by Cynthia Eden
Oh, why the hell not?
Now she knew why not. Because that kiss had made her want him more. And in the madness of her current life, she didn’t have time to want anyone.
Not even her special agent.
Victor Monroe. Victor of the golden, tanned skin. Victor with the incredible blue gaze that she could never forget. Victor—dark and dangerous and with the FBI.
The hand that had been gently stroking her suddenly rose and his fingers curled around her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “This is why you can’t run. Your life is on the line.”
“I thought…you said it was safer…that people believed I was dead…”
“Yeah, well, that was the general idea. I was circulating the idea that you’d been killed, but turns out…someone at the FBI isn’t exactly on your side.”
Her breath heaved out. “An FBI agent sold me out?”
“I don’t know who, not yet, but my boss is working on that.”
She jerked away from him. “I have to get away from you.” She reached for the door handle.
But Victor caught her wrist and pulled her right back toward him. “You need to stay with me! I’m the one saving your ass!”
“No, you’re not.” She twisted her wrist, yanked hard, but the guy didn’t let go. “You’re the one who got me shot at! If you’d just left me in that bus stop, I would have gotten on the bus, driven away, and been all safe and sound. Instead, you played your kissing game—”
“Kissing game?”
“You dragged me out of that place and you got me shot at!”
Headlights appeared in the distance—only, not a very big distance away. The lights were already illuminating their SUV.
“Um…Victor…” She licked her dry lips. “Why did you stop here?”
“Because it was a secluded spot and I needed to make sure you were safe!”
Those lights were coming closer. “Is that some agent who is supposed to rendezvous with you? Please, tell me it is.”
“Fuck.” He jumped out of the vehicle.
Wait—why had he jumped out of the SUV? “Victor!” She lunged into the driver’s seat and shoved her head out of the side of the vehicle—he’d left the door open in his haste. “What are you doing?” Because that other car was coming close, too fast, and Victor was now crawling around under the SUV.
“Got it!” Then he was rolling from beneath the vehicle and—he tossed something away into the dark. “SOB tagged my ride, but he won’t be following us any longer.”
Someone had tagged them? She slumped as low down in the front seat as she could. “Tell me that’s not the shooter closing in on us.”
“You drive.” He’d run around the vehicle and leapt into the passenger side. “And I’ll keep him busy.”
“But—”
Glass shattered. The other driver had stopped. His lights weren’t moving, and since the guy wasn’t busy driving—he is shooting at us again! Zoe stayed slumped behind the steering wheel but she stretched out her leg and shoved the gas pedal down. They lurched forward and as they did—oh, sweet Jesus—Victor was half-way climbing out his window. He was firing his gun at the other vehicle.
She just kept a death-grip on the wheel and prayed that they’d both make it out of that shoot-out alive.
Each time he fired, it sounded like thunder, echoing through the vehicle.
“Don’t slow down!” Victor bellowed.
She wasn’t planning to slow down—and definitely not planning to stop.
“I got his tires. The bastard won’t be following us any time soon.” He slid back in the SUV, fully back in. “I’ll call my team and get them to pick him up ASAP.”
Right. Wonderful. Call in the team. She drove straight ahead, now on a narrow country road, and Zoe had no idea of where she was headed.
“I can’t risk going back with you to try and contain him,” Victor said. “I don’t know what kind of firepower that guy has in his ride, and I don’t want to put you at risk.”
Did he think she was going to argue? “Call in your team. Let them handle him.” The last thing she wanted was to have some kind of face-off with the guy back there.
So Victor yanked out his phone and talked to his team. She drove like a bat out of hell. Zoe kept glancing back in the rearview mirror. No other headlights appeared. The road was empty and she should have started to feel safe.
She didn’t. Zoe actually couldn’t remember the last time that she’d felt safe.
Had it been before she’d first been abducted? Because that was how her relationship with Victor had begun. She’d been abducted and held in the dank basement of some rundown house. A guy named Hugh Rowe had taken her, as part of some big elaborate revenge plan that he’d created against her father. Hugh had kept her prisoner, threatened her, hurt her.
She’d been sure that Hugh intended to kill her. After all, he’d strapped a bomb to her chest. She’d been so very certain that death was coming for her—
And then Victor had appeared.
We got out of that mess. We survived. How many more escapes do we have left?
Cats had nine lives. She was pretty sure she’d used up far more than nine already. How much longer could this really go on? How many more times was she supposed to escape death?
“Zoe?” Victor said her name softly.
She still flinched.
“Zoe, do you want me to drive?”
When had he gotten off the phone? She blinked and realized that she might be crying. How embarrassing. She hadn’t even been aware of the tears sliding down her cheeks. “No…no, I don’t want to stop.”
If she stopped, maybe that guy would come—
“He’s out of commission. My team will be swarming on his location soon. You’re safe.”
She laughed and the sound was so bitter, even to her own ears.
As she drove, she could feel the weight of Victor’s stare on her, but Zoe didn’t glance his way. “What would it take,” she asked him, aware that her voice was even huskier than normal, “for you to just let me go? I mean…I’d give you anything you wanted.”
“Letting you go isn’t an option, you know that.”
No, she didn’t know it. “I’ve never deliberately hurt anyone. I paid my taxes. I went to school. I had a job. I didn’t break any laws…I didn’t do anything wrong.” But she was still being hunted. Still being kept a prisoner.
“I know.” His voice was softer, gruffer. “Sometimes, we’re just dealt fucking bad hands by fate.”
She swiped the back of her hand over her wet cheeks. “What would you know about a bad hand? I bet you grew up with some kind of silver spoon in your mouth. You probably never had to worry about anything or anyone. I bet—”
“For someone who lived in Vegas for so long, your bets are shit.”
Now she did toss a fast glance his way.
“One day, I’ll tell you about the way I grew up. The fights and the blood and the lines I crossed.”
Mr. Follow-The-Law had crossed lines? What lines?
“But that day isn’t today. Today, we’re going to keep driving for forty minutes and then we’re seeking refuge at a safe house.”
Not another one.
“It’s more of a safe motel,” he muttered. “But it’s been vetted, and we’re crashing there so that I can get a full report from my team.”
He meant so that he could hand her off to another team member. Because that was his usual MO. Swoop in. Stop her from vanishing. Pass her off.
“I’m sick of being passed off.” Her hands tightened on the wheel. “Why don’t you ask me the reason I was getting on that bus? Why don’t you ask me—”
“Fine. Why were you getting on that bus?”
“Because my friend needs me.” The words exploded out of her. “You know my friend Michelle Lane has been missing—missing too long.” She’d gone to Vegas weeks ago to try and find Michelle, but the woman hadn’t been there. “She was my only friend. I know someone took her to get to me.
I know—”
“FBI agents are searching for her.” His fingers were tapping against the door panel. “I told you that when I got you in Vegas.”
When he’d swooped in…and passed her off yet again. “That isn’t good enough. It’s been too long. I’m worried that she’s dead.” Just saying that fear aloud hurt. “I have to find her. So if you pass me off to another agent, well, guess what? I’ll break and run again. I will keep running until I know where Michelle is. Until I know what happened to her. Until I find my friend. Dead or alive.”
Okay, wow, she’d gotten a little passionate there. Passionate and loud but she was not going to be passed along again.
He wasn’t speaking.
“Say something,” Zoe ordered. “Say—”
“If the agents searching aren’t good enough, then I’ll be the one to personally help you.”
She shook her head, pretty sure she’d misheard.
“I’ll help you,” he said again. “But you’ll have to help me, too, okay, Zoe? You were promising me anything before, weren’t you?”
Um… “Yes.”
“Then I think you and I will be able to work out a deal.”
Her heart stuttered in her chest.
“Keep driving, Zoe,” he told her. “Everything is going to be all right.”
Was she really supposed to believe those words?
***
Lauren Ward didn’t want to screw up her first assignment. She’d busted ass to join the FBI, and the last thing she wanted to do was start off her Bureau career with a screw up but…
Her hand tightened on her gun. “The guy isn’t here.”
She and her partner, Russell Aiker, had made it to the location Victor had given them—they’d gotten there in near-record time. When they’d arrived, the truck had been exactly where Victor had said but…
No driver. The shooter—he’s gone. She glanced up at the dark line of trees. “You think he headed out on foot?”
Russell was at the back of the truck. “No. I think the guy just took a back-up ride and hauled ass.” He shone his flashlight down at the ground—and there, in the dirt, was the clear impression of a wheel. “Motorcycle,” he said, his voice flat. “Probably had it in the back of his truck. This guy was definitely planning ahead. If one ride was disabled, he wanted to be ready to continue his pursuit.”
Lauren swallowed. “He sounds—”
“Professional. Yeah, all the guys after Zoe are.” He had his phone out. “Better call Victor. The guy is going to be pissed.”
Lauren bit her lower lip. Having Victor Monroe pissed was not the way she’d wanted to start the job.
“And…just so you’re aware…when you meet Zoe Peters, it’s a good idea to handle the woman with kid gloves. Even if she does manage to piss you off.” He laughed roughly. “’Cause it will happen.”
She blinked. “Why the kid gloves?”
“Let’s just say Victor doesn’t like it when Zoe gets upset.”
“But—”
“You upset Zoe, and you will find your ass reassigned. Hell, how do you think you got this gig in the first place?”
She’d had no clue.
“Kid. Gloves.” He put the phone to his ear. “Vic? Yeah, we’re out here but…no, you aren’t going to be happy…”
***
Kyle watched the agents as they searched his truck. He had his night vision goggles on, so he could monitor them. They were standing by his abandoned truck. Just out there, no cover at all. If he’d wanted, he could have taken them both out.
But their deaths wouldn’t have helped him. He also wasn’t getting paid to off them so…why bother?
He’d taken out his motorcycle. Left a path that made it look as if he’d driven back to the road. Then he’d stayed near the tree line. Gotten cover. He’d wanted to wait and see what the clean-up team looked like.
He’d also wanted to use that team.
Because sooner or later…those two out there would lead him to Victor Monroe. Kyle knew that with certainty. And as he’d already learned that night…
If Victor is around, then Zoe has to be close by. The rumors he’d heard about those two had to be true. And the words he’d just heard the FBI agent say—damn, didn’t that guy realize sound carried at night?—they just backed up what he’d already suspected.
Victor Monroe had a personal involvement in Zoe’s case. That was why she was such a priority for him. Kyle knew exactly what Zoe looked like, so it wasn’t a big surprise to him that Victor was screwing her.
She was hot.
But she wasn’t a woman worth dying for. Victor should learn that shit, before it was too late.
Chapter Three
As far as motel rooms went…Victor knew the place they were in pretty much counted as a dump. Definitely the no-tell-motel variety. The bed was sagging, the desk was scarred and wobbly, the door to the bathroom wouldn’t close completely, and the carpet was thread-bare.
A dump.
But…at least the dump had a clean bed. He’d made sure of that. Victor had paid extra for fresh bedding because he hadn’t wanted Zoe sleeping on someone else’s dirt. He’d wanted to make the best of the place for her.
He was always wanting to make things better for Zoe. A weakness, an issue that he had. But there was just something about the woman that got to him.
Maybe it was her eyes. The first time he’d looked into them, he’d almost thought he’d lost part of his soul. But then he’d remembered…he’d given up his soul long ago. He cleared his throat. “Sorry about…this.”
Zoe gave a faint laugh as she glanced over at him. “Don’t worry, Special Agent. I wasn’t expecting the Ritz.” She dropped the massive coat she’d been carrying around. “I’ve stayed in worse rooms. Better ones, too, but definitely worse.” She sat on the edge of the bed. It gave a long, low groan, and her eyebrows shot up.
He didn’t want her staying in that place—he would have fucking loved to put her up at the Ritz, but they were in the middle of freaking nowhere, and their options for a safe place to crash were severely limited. No questions were asked at this motel, and he’d been given the room on the far end—the most private one. One that also provided him with a view of anyone who might try to come his way.
A safe enough place, for the night. They’d been signed in under fake names, a married couple. And the motel sign-in log had been full of other fake names.
Celebrities. Dead presidents. Plenty of interesting names had been on that list at the front desk.
“So I heard you talking to your FBI buddies,” Zoe murmured. “He got away, huh?” She wasn’t laughing now and her gaze held fear.
He hated her fear, and he hated having to say, “Yeah, he was gone.”
She nodded. “So I guess he’s still on the hunt.”
He was…and other hitmen were out there, too. “The bounty on your head just keeps rising.”
Zoe glanced away from him. Her stare went to the little TV that was on a stand near the foot of the bed. Judging by the look of it, Victor figured that TV hadn’t worked in years.
“So many people hate Luther,” Zoe mused. “And they never seem to think…I hate him, too. I want him to pay, too. It’s not like Luther Bates will win the award for Father of the Year.” Her eyes closed. “Everyone knows he was a monster. So what the hell do people think he was like when I was a kid?”
He’d been curious about her life with Luther, but she hadn’t told Victor jackshit before. He leaned against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest, and wondered if this was the turning point for them. Was she finally lowering the wall she’d kept up? Finally trusting him?
“At first, when I was younger, I wondered why he hadn’t married my mom.” Her eyes opened and she turned her head, meeting his gaze. “That’s what a five-year-old wonders, you see. Why don’t mom and dad live together? Is something wrong?”
He waited, silent.
“When I was ten, when I barely saw him at all, I thought…we’re h
is dirty little secret. He’s ashamed of me. Of my mom. So he keeps us away from everyone else. He doesn’t take us out to dinners or on trips. He doesn’t come to my school to see my plays because he’s embarrassed. I’ve embarrassed him. I’m a disappointment. That’s what a ten year old thinks.” Her lips curved down as sadness chased over her face.
You aren’t a disappointment. You could never be a disappointment.
“Then, when I was fifteen…I saw his face on the news. I wondered…why is my dad on the news? And then…then I heard what the reporter was saying. That he was a criminal. A killer. That he was some kind of suspected mob boss. My mom was in the room with me, watching the news, and she was crying. That was when I knew…”
When her voice trailed off and Zoe didn’t continue, Victor waited a moment, then pushed, “When you knew what?”
“That my father was a monster. My mother was always so careful around him because she was terrified of him. And he kept us hidden because…” Now her laughter came once more. Sad. Painful. “Because he knew we would be targets. He knew people would hurt us in order to get to him. That’s what his world was, you see. The an-eye-for-an-eye mentality ruled there. Survival of the fittest dominated. Good and evil—those concepts didn’t matter at all.”
“You confronted your father. About what he…was.” This was the part he needed. He had to learn what secrets Zoe had been keeping. And he suspected there were plenty of secrets.
“Of course, I confronted him. When you’re fifteen, you think you can change the world.” Her smile stretched. “You think that maybe you can still get the happy life you always dreamed of. You think you can change the monster.”
Nothing will change Luther Bates. Victor had spent too many hours staring into that man’s cold, dead eyes. Luther was evil. Pure and fucking simple. Luther had ordered the deaths of so many people…and never even hesitated. “What happened?”
She pushed off the bed, rising to her feet. “Oh, the usual. My crime boss father instantly became good and charming. Everything that a girl could wish her father to be.” Zoe hurried toward the bathroom. “I need to shower.”
