The Ultimate Romantic Suspense Set (8 romantic suspense novels from 8 bestselling authors for 99c)

by Lee Taylor

  “I had it under control,” Vega said.

  “You had it…?” Grayson stomped away. “You were bound up tighter than a Thanksgiving turkey…and scared…and at that bastard’s mercy.”

  “I had it under control,” Vega repeated. She was about to blast into Grayson when Fiona doubled over and vomited. Vega’s heart dropped straight to her toes. She wrapped her arms around Fiona and brushed the strands of hair away from her sister’s face.

  “I’m okay,” Fiona muttered. She sounded anything but okay.

  “I know it hurts bad, Fiona. You don’t have to be brave for me. I’ll get you help.” Vega started to lift her sister, but Grayson pushed her aside and took Fiona into his arms.

  “I’m hoping you can navigate the marsh in the dark?” Vega asked. She plodded along in the sand beside Grayson. Fiona had closed her eyes and may have passed out. The bleeding wasn’t heavy, but the pain might push her into shock. She required immediate medical care.

  “Don’t worry,” Grayson said without slowing his stride. “She’ll be okay. The wounds aren’t serious, and I do know my way around this area.”

  “I’m okay,” Fiona muttered without opening her eyes. “I’m not worried.”

  The boat bobbed and jostled Fiona as Grayson lowered her to a cushion in the front of one of Butch’s boats. Whitfield was lying on the fiberglass floor of the boat near the engine, moaning. Fiona remained uncharacteristically closed-mouthed.

  With Grayson and Fiona settled in the boat, Vega untied the rope and gave it a push into the channel. Water swirled around her pants, making the material cold and heavy. She put her hand on the side of the boat to steady herself for a moment.

  Grayson took hold of her wrist. “You’re coming too.”

  “I’ll follow in the other boat.” Her wet hand easily slipped from his grasp. “I’m going to sink the third boat, so Butch and his pal won’t be able to get away.”

  The look Grayson gave her overflowed with mistrust.

  “Go. Get Fiona medical care. I’m like a homing pigeon. Once I take a route, I have no trouble following it back,” she lied smoothly. “I’ll be ten minutes behind you.”

  Vega backed up onto the shore. Her boots sloshed. Another pair ruined. She watched Grayson watching her. He stood in the silent boat as it glided away, caught in the tide’s strong current.

  “Ten minutes?” he called before starting up the engine.

  Ten minutes…give or take however long it would take to find Butch. A lack of transportation wouldn’t stop him from getting back to the mainland. Leaving the island without him would be handing Butch a ticket to freedom.

  She had no intention of doing that.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Grayson steered the boat and steamed. The dangers on Mamma Etta’s island were too great. Leaving Vega alone there, even for a few minutes was just wrong. He kept the engine low and looked back over his shoulder, watching for Vega.

  Whitfield had finally settled down. It had taken a heavy blanket and several threats to get him to stop crying, but the silence was worth it.

  He flicked a glance toward Fiona. Her eyes shined in the dim light. Her resolve impressed him. Like biting the bullet or taking it all in stride, she embodied those kinds of sayings.

  “You okay?” he asked her.

  “I’m dying because of you,” Whitfield moaned. Everyone ignored him.

  “She’s not coming,” Fiona said. Her voice sounded oddly calm in the dark.

  “What?” Grayson asked. He took a quick look over his shoulder again without realizing it.

  “This boat’s going at a snail’s pace and you’re watching for her. But I know my sister. She won’t leave without Butch.” Fiona paused for a long time. “I think she believes she’s defending me.”

  The winter air suddenly hit Grayson. This was his mess, not hers. She’d only gotten wrapped up in it because it had been her job to bring him back into the justice system. The wet cold sank deep into his bones.

  He turned off the boat’s engine and tossed over the anchor. Once he felt the line bite and pull snug, he left it to check on Fiona. The blood was just beginning to seep through the fabric strips Vega had fastened around the gunshot wounds, but she was alert and strong.

  Whitfield was pretty healthy too, if the strength of his lungs were any indication. He started to scream the moment Grayson killed the engine. “Whatever you do, make it fast,” Whitfield finally sputtered.

  “I can’t leave Vega,” Grayson said to Fiona. “You understand that?”

  Hell, he didn’t understand the feelings he had for that spitfire huntress of his. That round of sex with her had only muddied his mind. But he did know he couldn’t leave her to fight alone. Although Fiona and Whitfield needed medical care, their injuries weren’t life threatening—not yet.

  “You’re a much better man for Vega than Butch ever was,” Fiona whispered. The pain was getting to her again. “Butch was an ass from day one. Don’t know what my sister ever saw in him.”

  Grayson didn’t ask. He cranked the engine and pulled up the anchor. There was just enough room in the creek for the boat to circle around. He opened up the engine and roared back toward Mamma Etta’s island.

  Damn, damn, damn. He’d wasted too much time.

  Her arrogance might have already gotten her killed.

  * * * *

  Vega plodded deep into a tangle of scrubby oaks and prickly vines. Butch had been a fool to stay out in the open near the boats. She understood why he had. He’d been worried that she’d do exactly what she’d just finished doing. She’d pulled the drain plugs in the hulls and set the boats adrift, leaving him with no quick escape route.

  But to remain in the clearing only made her too tempting a target. Vega got as deep into the woods as she could before taking a breather to organize her gear and plan.

  Defeating Butch wouldn’t be easy. They were well matched. She’d trained with him a few times. In hand-to-hand combat, he could best her two times out of three. Of course, at the time, she hadn’t been thinking about how he’d just ordered a man to shoot her sister or how he’d played with her emotions.

  Things were vastly different out on this island. She was royally pissed, for one thing.

  Butch’s voice carried in the darkness. She could hear him talking quietly to the other man with him. They were just a few yards away. Vega hunkered down and waited. From the sound of it, they were heading in her direction.

  Perfect. She intended to confront Butch before he stumbled over the other killers Vega and Grayson had left tied up and scattered around.

  “I said don’t worry, damn it. Vega’s rushed off with that stupid sister of hers. You heard the boat. I heard the boat. Everyone’s gone.” Butch must not have been totally convinced though. He spoke softly and kept a cautious stride, stopping every few feet to listen.

  He took another step and stopped again.

  Vega put her father’s Glock back into its holster. She had no intention of killing anyone. The game would play out hand to fist. Her first move would be to get the guns away from Butch and his man.

  She lowered the night vision monocle over her right eye and prepared for the attack. Her heart fluttered in her chest with anticipation.

  Butch took a step and stopped mid-stride. He cocked his head, listening intently.

  “What?” Jasper asked. His voice quivered.

  “Shush.” Butch didn’t move. He was waiting.

  For what?

  Then it hit her, sending cold fingers of dread shooting down her spine. Butch was waiting for her. He knew she was here. Was expecting her attack and was waiting for her to fall into his clutches again.

  Perhaps she should give him what he expected. He tended to get overly cocky when in the winning position.

  A seagull cried out overhead. In the distance, a motorboat engine roared. Something in the air had changed. Night would soon turn into morning.

  Vega felt around the sandy ground until she found a heavy shel
l. With a quick throw, the shell sailed through the air and bounced off a tree. Jasper spun around and blasted apart the poor tree that had just been smacked by the shell. His M249 clicked. It was finally empty.

  Butch wasn’t as easily fooled. He had the night vision goggles on over his head and had latched his gaze onto hers in no time.

  He smiled.

  Vega kept her focus. His cockiness would hurt him.

  He made the first move. With his head low, he charged like a football player. She held her crouched position until he was nearly on top of her.

  She then sprang up with a flying kick to his face, which Butch easily blocked. She followed up with a roundhouse kick aimed for his midsection. Again, he had no trouble blocking her. She tossed a few punches, telegraphing them far in advance of the actual blow. She moved quickly, not giving him time to do anything but block moves he’d expect her to toss his way.

  Frustrated by the lack of progress, Butch ducked a right cross and jabbed Vega in the ribs with a bruising upper cut. She staggered back, but since she’d kept her abs tight, the air stayed put in her lungs.

  “Give me a hand, damn it,” Butch shouted as he worked hard to block another round of punches.

  “He’s run away, I think,” Vega said between panting breaths. She scanned the area just to make sure. If he was still around, the kid was doing a good job hiding.

  “You can’t win.” Butch kicked, the execution sloppy. His frustration was getting the better of him. “I always let you win at the dojo.”

  “Funny, I thought I’d been letting you win.”

  Vega got blindsided with a quick left jab for that smart remark. She closed her mouth. Her energy was beginning to wane. She’d been running on high for too long and needed to take Butch out before his helper found himself a fresh dose of courage or another gun.

  She feinted a blow to Butch’s kidney, getting him to block low. That gave her an advantage. Her right jab to his nose hit home. He stumbled back, but she didn’t give him a chance to recover before swinging a left jab to the stomach that bent Butch slightly over. A spinning kick to his face finished him off.

  A heavy cloud moved and the stars brightened the night as she stared down at Butch’s crumpled body on the ground. Now that it was over, rage bloomed like a poison in her veins.

  He’d professed his love and proposed just to get her to find Grayson for him. When that failed, he’d tried to kill Fiona. He’d used every emotional trap he could to trip her up…and had damn near succeeded.

  “It’s a good thing you’re unconscious, Butch,” Vega managed to get out from behind her clenched teeth.

  “Vega!” Grayson’s voice carried through the trees.

  He was the last person she wanted to see right now. This emotion business was fraught with too many landmines.

  “Vega!” Grayson charged through the forest and pulled her into his arms. “Damn you, I was so worried.” His lips found hers. The kiss was hard and demanding. He squeezed her till she thought she might break.

  It felt rather nice.

  “Oh hell, you do something to me. If we’re not careful, this attraction could lead somewhere…to love even,” he said as he peeled his lips away.

  Love? Go figure.

  Vega gave Grayson a friendly punch in the chest and wiggled out of his embrace. “Wait till the adrenaline wears off. I’ll be plain old Vega to you again.” She laughed. It was do that or cry. Her emotions were bubbling up all over, now that her worries were gone.

  Butch groaned.

  “Jasper,” Vega said, pulling herself together again. How did she manage to have forgotten Jasper?

  “I’ve got him tied up at the dock. Found him drowning in the water. Guess he thought he could teach himself to swim while trying to get away from you.”

  * * * *

  A half hour later, Vega sat perched on the edge of the crowded boat. Grayson had dropped Butch and Jasper next to Whitfield at the stern of the boat and had told the three of them to keep their mouths shut. He seemed to have known that she needed the silence. Her phone had picked up a signal twenty minutes into the ride, and she’d been able to arrange to have an ambulance and the police meet them at the dock in McClellanville. She’d also called Jack to let him know that it was all over.

  She closed her eyes and leaned back to enjoy the cool air blasting against her face. Grayson pushed the boat to its limit, slowing only for the sharpest corners.

  “I still have to turn you over to the police, you know,” she said without opening her eyes. She tried to imagine her father beaming with pride at the news of her successful capture of Grayson and of the men trying to frame him.

  Fiona got hurt in the process. You should’ve protected Fiona first and worried about work second. Her father’s scowl wrecked her fantasy—old habits were hard to kill.

  She peeled her eyes open long enough to check on Fiona, who appeared to be sleeping. Her chest rose and fell with deep regularity.

  “The feds will have a lot of questions, too,” Vega added.

  Whitfield groaned at the mention of the federal authorities.

  “You have something to say?” Grayson asked. He stopped the engine and let the boat drift. He stepped over Jasper to get at Whitfield. “Do you have something to say?”

  Whitfield turned his head. His pale skin glowed in the early morning gray light. “I intend to sue you for ruining Six-Star, Grayson. Getting mixed up with a terrorist organization and trying to make me look like the guilty one? I should have expected it from someone like you…a murderer.” Whitfield’s boardroom voice replaced the frightened, whiny one he’d been using, stupid man.

  Vega rose from the edge of the boat, prepared to stop Grayson from doing something stupid.

  “What—did—you—say?” Grayson asked.

  “I said, you killed Greg and refuse to admit it, even to yourself. Stop accusing others for your crimes.”

  Grayson moved quickly. He yanked Whitfield up by the collar and punched him. Vega lunged forward and grabbed hold of Grayson’s arm before he could hit Whitfield again.

  “You need him alive,” she said.

  “Really?” Grayson shrugged off Vega’s hand and punched Whitfield in the side of the head. She turned away, not willing to watch Grayson do this.

  “Please,” Whitfield whined, “I’ll talk.”

  “Shut up,” Butch said.

  Grayson hit Whitfield several more times. The sound of flesh slamming against flesh caught in Vega’s throat.

  “Please stop,” Whitfield whined even louder.

  “Why? The man you paid to kill Greg didn’t stop, even after he was long dead.”

  “That wasn’t how it was supposed to be! Butch was supposed to make it look like an accident! He wasn’t supposed to torture him! Please! Butch is a maniac! He even killed a bounty hunter he worked with, saying he’d gotten too close!”

  “Shut up, damn it!” Butch shouted.

  “He—he said he could handle things. He was the one who wanted to kill you. Please don’t hit me again! I swear I’ll talk to the police!”

  Even the cicadas were shocked into silence after that outburst. Vega turned back to Grayson and held her breath. She watched as he tightened his grip around Whitfield’s collar, curled his hand into a tight ball, and slammed his fist into Whitfield’s bony jaw. Whitfield dropped to the bottom of the boat.

  “That’ll be the end of Six-Star,” Grayson said and cranked the motor. “I’m not exactly sure what Whitfield was into, but if it’s as bad as I suspect, the feds will seize all company assets. I’ll be unemployed.”

  “Jack’s always looking for new blood. Ever consider bounty hunting?”

  He frowned at her for a moment, but the dock was fast approaching so he had to pay attention to the waterway. “Depends,” he said.

  Nearly an hour passed as Fiona and Whitfield were loaded into an ambulance and Butch and his minion into a squad car. The police put a boat in the water to return to the island to pick up the guards th
ey’d left tied up in the boat shed.

  “Depends on what?” Vega asked, while Sheriff Townsend—the same man who’d released her from those chains in the convenience store—hovered nearby.

  “What?” Grayson asked.

  “Bounty hunting. I told you Jack is always looked for new talent.” Vega wanted to kick herself for pursuing it. She didn’t know why she wasn’t ready to let Grayson out of her life. “And you said—”

  “It depends on whether you’re included in the deal.”

  “Hmmm…” Vega couldn’t think of anything more intelligent than that to say without committing herself. Her knees suddenly felt a little weak.

  “Miss Brookes,” Sheriff Townsend called out. “Isn’t that the same man who…?”

  Vega tossed her arms around Grayson’s neck and gave him a kiss guaranteed to keep him thinking about her while he was locked away and answering endless questions poised by the feds and the Atlanta PD.

  “Yes.” She was slightly out of breath when she landed on her feet again. Grayson looked a little wobbly himself. “Yes, Sheriff. This is the same man. He needs to be returned to the authorities in Atlanta. I’ve got a bounty to collect.”

  “You won’t get rid of me that easily,” Grayson promised.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Did you see this?” Fiona asked. Her nose was buried in the morning newspaper. A steaming caffe latte sat untouched on the table in front of her.

  Vega settled in the painted metal seat across from her sister and gave her glass of organic grapefruit juice a sip. This was a new routine for them, gathering in the coffee shop across the street from the dojo after spending the early morning hours training together.

  Fiona was taking training seriously. A real change in attitude. For the last two hours, she’d worked with a killer’s focus.

  “Whoa, you’ve got to read this.” Fiona folded the paper in half and handed it across the table. “And don’t you dare tell me you already knew.”

  Vega stared at the headline.

  Three months had passed since she’d caught Grayson hiding on that small marsh island and realized she’d been chasing the wrong villain…in more ways than one.