by Debra Webb
Her legs wouldn’t move fast enough.
He was pulling her.
Not fast enough.
The boom blasted in her ears a split second before the ground shook beneath her feet.
The ground rushed up to meet her.
Eve grunted with the impact.
A few seconds passed before she could move.
Move!
She scrambled to her feet.
Where was J.T.?
He was getting to his feet right behind her. He staggered.
“You okay?” She shook her head, hadn’t heard her own words. Her ears felt stuffed with cotton.
He looked her over, then turned back to the house. Fire had engulfed the middle section of the enormous house. The kitchen. The explosion had been focused in the kitchen—right where she and J.T. had been busy assessing the body.
The enemy had known that they would linger where the body had been left.
The police would come after the explosion and find them injured or dead, at the very least, looking even more guilty of more than one crime.
Whatever was left of her weapon was in there…. A body…
“We have to get out of here.”
He stared at her. “What?”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the far end of the house.
At the front corner she hesitated, checked the street.
“Damn it.” Neighbors were pouring out of their houses. The cops would be here soon.
He turned her around to face him. “We have to call the police.”
“What we have to do,” she fired back, her patience thinning, the words sounding a mile away, “is get the hell out of here.”
She ran for the car. People pointed, shouted. She didn’t understand the words, didn’t care.
Her butt hit the driver’s seat at the same time J.T. reached the driver’s-side door.
“Get in the car,” she ordered.
She started the engine, not caring whether he got in.
The car dipped with his weight, and she hit the accelerator.
A few seconds, tops, the police would be here. She and J.T. had to disappear before then. They couldn’t investigate this case from behind bars.
The best way to get lost in a crowd of this size was in plain sight. She picked a side street and parked the car.
J.T. grabbed her hand to get her attention. “What are you doing?”
She shook her head, wishing the muffled sensation would go away. But she knew from experience it would take a few hours.
“We’re going back to watch for your friend.”
He stared a moment, an argument in his eyes. Then he got out and rounded the hood.
They took the side of the street lined with the most trees and shrubbery. As they reached the fringes of the crowd, they started pointing and asking questions just like everyone else.
Within another minute or so they had worked their way back to the house. The police had arrived, and crowd-control measures were in place.
Firefighters were preparing to hose down the flames. Sirens wailing, lights throbbing.
But no sign of Ms. Rebecca James.
Eve folded her trembling arms over her chest. The bitch had tried to kill them.
Chapter Fifteen
Crystal Lake, 8:30 p.m.
J.T. checked the perimeter of the cabin.
Clear.
He sat down on the front steps and heaved a breath. What the hell was going on? Rebecca hadn’t shown. He’d tried to call her half a dozen times but had gotten her voice mail every time.
O’Brien had picked them up a few blocks from Arenas’s house. Or what was left of it.
After he’d briefed Victoria, she had touched base with her contact at Chicago PD. She would give J.T. a heads-up on what was going on as soon as any information was available.
In the meantime he was to lay low.
His mother wouldn’t be released from the hospital until tomorrow. His colleagues had her under twenty-four-hour surveillance.
Victoria had assured him that he didn’t need to worry about anything, how could he not?
His house had been invaded. A numbered account connected to serious embezzlement had been set up in his name. He’d been chased, shot at and nearly blown up.
And his mother had been beaten within an inch of her life.
After he’d had time to collect his thoughts, he’d realized that someone had to have been watching the house to know they’d gone inside. They’d been given time to get distracted by the body, and then the remote for the explosives had been triggered.
As big as the boom had felt up close, it hadn’t been enough to destroy the house.
That hadn’t been the intent.
The blast had been intended to kill or wound him badly enough to ensure he was discovered at the scene.
And Eve.
She had been a target, as well.
Yet she’d risked her life to ensure he got out first, which was another confusing element of the scenario. Why would she put his life before hers?
The same way, now that he thought about it, she had at the warehouse. And at his house when he’d been ambushed on Friday night.
And what about her reaction, almost like jealousy, to Rebecca.
Was it possible she did have feelings for him?
He scrubbed a hand over his face. He was borrowing trouble. When this was over, she would be gone.
Just like before.
There were no words to accurately explain how he’d felt that day in the chapel when she hadn’t shown. His whole world had felt as if it were ending.
The agony that night…the night they were supposed to have spent here…had paralyzed him.
Then he’d diverted all that pain into anger and the need to find the truth.
Had he found it? He still didn’t even know her full name. Just Eve.
And yet he knew more about her after the past seventy-two hours than he had in two months…before.
“Whatever.”
He pushed to his feet.
Tonight he needed to get some sleep so he could take care of business tomorrow. He had to find some answers. And he had to take care of his mother.
Eve…would take care of herself. She’d definitely proved capable of doing that.
He went inside, closed and locked the door.
She was standing by the kitchen island. He froze.
With her hair damp, she wore nothing but a towel. Her long, toned legs made his throat ache. The creamy skin of her shoulders enticed him for a taste.
“Sorry. I thought you were outside.” She gestured to the sink. “I was thirsty.”
He held up a hand. “It’s okay. I need a shower anyway.”
Without a backward glance, which wasn’t an easy feat, he strode to the bedroom. He crossed to the en suite bath and closed the door. Her discarded clothes were scattered over the floor. Jeans. T-shirt. Skimpy panties.
He focused his attention on setting the water temperature.
After he’d stripped off his clothes, he climbed into the shower. The hot spray of water felt good on his sore muscles. The impact with the ground had left him achy. But they were both damned lucky to survive with nothing but a few bruises.
Damned lucky.
He stood beneath the hot spray for a while after he’d gone through the cleaning ritual. His body needed the heat…. Or maybe he was just avoiding Eve.
When the water started to cool, he shut it off and climbed out.
Eve was standing in the open door. She thrust a pair of jeans at him. “I thought you might need these.”
The towel was gone.
His gaze traveled the length of her naked body, then lifted to meet hers.
“Thanks.” He reached out, accepted the jeans.
She didn’t move.
He didn’t move.
“You…” She licked her lips.
His throat tightened, his chest squeezed.
“You were a mistake,” she confe
ssed.
He flinched and felt the pain radiate down his body.
She shook her head. “I don’t mean the way you think.” She drew in a big breath, and her chest expanded, lifting her firm breasts…drawing his attention to pert, soft nipples he longed to touch.
“I was wrong to let things go so far.” She looked away. “I should have maintained better control, kept it simple.” Her gaze lifted to his. “I hurt you and I didn’t mean to.”
He dropped the jeans, took a step in her direction. “Things have been out of control since the day we met.” He couldn’t deny that. She wasn’t the only one who had let things go too far.
She stood very still. Let him close in on her.
“You—” she looked up at him “—don’t know me. I don’t even know me.”
He touched her hair. He loved her hair. So long, thick…beautiful. He loved to feel it between his fingers…gliding over his skin. “I know this.” He bent his head down, pressed his lips to hers.
Her taste, the feel of her lips, awakened his senses as nothing else could. He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, wanting to be inside her. She opened for him, drew him in.
His arms went around her narrow waist, pulled her body to his damp one. He groaned at the heat of her skin, the silky softness of her body compared with his hard-muscled frame. She fit against him perfectly.
The kiss went on and on until they melted together. He lifted her against his chest, scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
He laid her down gently, her head resting on the pillow, her sleek body arranged languidly on the crisp white linens.
She was so beautiful.
She held her hand out to him. He laced his fingers with hers and pressed his palm to hers.
With one firm tug she pulled him down on the bed beside her. Neither of them cared that he was still damp from the shower. He didn’t hurry. He took his time. He wanted to touch every part of her, to authenticate every memory already imprinted on his very soul.
EVE KNEW SHE SHOULDN’T allow this to happen. But she couldn’t resist his touch. She needed this one night with him.
The concept of stopping was unthinkable.
No one had ever touched her the way J.T. did. Making love with him had been like making love for the first time. He’d brought the woman in her to an emotional pinnacle she hadn’t known existed.
He’d given himself completely, had offered her his entire being.
Not once in her life had she ever wanted that much of anyone.
But she wanted it now. At least for tonight.
His fingers trailed down her torso, tracing, teasing, tempting.
He kissed her throat, followed the same path his fingers had taken with his lips. He circled one taunt nipple, tugged on it with his teeth, then sank fully onto it, drawing it into his hot mouth.
She moaned and lost herself to his touch until they were one. He moved inside her, filling her completely. Nothing mattered then. Not the past…not the future.
There was only now and the way he could blur it all with his tenderness.
This would prove her biggest mistake of all.
Not the making love…but the thinking she could just walk away.
Chapter Sixteen
Chicago, 11:30 p.m.
Victoria sat on the side of her granddaughter’s bed. The child slept so peacefully, without a care in the world. So trusting.
She would not see that taken from her granddaughter, not the way it had been taken from her son. Victoria closed her eyes and fought back the memories. She failed miserably; the memories came in a deluge. The misery that accompanied each one making it impossible to breathe normally.
Jim had been seven years old, barely a year older than Jamie was now, when evil had snatched him away.
Errol Leberman.
The devil himself.
He’d taken Victoria’s child and tried his best to turn him into a monster. He’d kept Jim chained in a basement for years, treated him like an animal, tortured him physically and mentally. Then he’d sent the child away to serve as a slave at a mercenary training camp.
Victoria had read the psychiatric reports during Jim’s treatment and recovery. It was only by the grace of God the boy had survived the horrors he had suffered.
But he had survived. Victoria gathered her courage around her. As had she. Her son was a good, strong man now with a wonderful wife and a beautiful daughter.
Victoria would not allow this child to suffer those trials. She would protect her.
No matter the cost.
Merri had been right about Jamie’s favorite toy. A cutting-edge tracking device had been added to each of the stuffed bear’s eyes. The manufacturer had been unable to trace the serial numbers to a buyer. The paper trail had been so muddled that determining the source had been utterly impossible.
The question now was how had anyone gained access to the toy in the first place? The bear was always one of two places, at Victoria’s home or in Jamie’s arms. Since the toy wasn’t permitted at school, it was only with Jamie when she was with Victoria or a member of her staff. There was never an opportunity for it to fall into the enemy’s hands.
Unless the tracking devices were, as Ian and Simon suggested, integrated at some prior date. Before Jim and Tasha had left for their vacation.
Which meant that the threat had been planned well in advance and had been carried out by an intimate.
Someone Jim and Tasha knew…well enough to trust the person in their daughter’s presence.
Or in their home.
Chapter Seventeen
Crystal Lake, 1:00 a.m.
Eve sat on the end of the bed watching J.T. sleep. But she couldn’t sleep, not until this was done.
Eve had told herself over and over that this ultimately would have happened, with or without her involvement.
But that didn’t absolve her conscience.
If she had turned down this job, perhaps J.T. would not have gotten dragged into this dangerous game of blame and kill.
His superior, Victoria Colby-Camp, had called. The police wanted J.T. to come in for questioning. He planned to go at nine this morning.
Next Rebecca James would make her move. She would report the fraud and point a finger at J.T. He wasn’t totally convinced of that scenario just yet, but Eve knew. She had no proof, but she knew.
She’d sensed something sinister in the woman. That didn’t make her smarter or better at reading people than J.T.; it only proved her pathetic childhood had been good for something.
Eve’s aunt had been like Rebecca James. She showed one side of herself to those who could provide some advantage or opportunity. But in other settings with those who offered nothing of consequence, she turned into an evil bitch.
Rebecca was the one behind this high-stakes game. There was no way to know for sure how she had persuaded Terrence Arenas to go along with her.
Sex? Money? Both maybe.
Eve had narrowed down her theories to two: either Rebecca was planning to stay and ensure that J.T. and/or Arenas were charged with her crimes, or the whole situation was a smokescreen until Rebecca could get her ducks in a row and disappear.
Eve couldn’t speculate as to Damon Howe’s involvement—if any—in the scenario.
Rebecca had had a good thing going for quite a while, maybe longer than they knew. What had made her take these abrupt measures? Had someone caught on to her scam? Paula Jamison? Maybe Arenas himself?
Or had Jamison’s threat of legal action been the straw that broke the camel’s back?
One thing was certain—the usual methods wouldn’t get to the bottom of what had gone down. Rebecca would lie. She’d likely taken great pains to cover her tracks. It would be her word against J.T.’s. The court proceedings could take years. His legal fees would mount. All for nothing more than to prove his innocence.
The only way to get to the truth was to extract it in a manner the bitch would understand.
The
police weren’t going to do that: it was illegal. J.T. and the Colby Agency might bend the rules, but they would never break them.
Eve walked a different line when it came to rules and laws. She would do whatever it took.
All she needed was a weapon.
Facing the enemy unarmed and unprepared was just stupid.
She eased off the bed and went in search of her shoes and the keys to their borrowed car.
J.T. had a weapon at his place.
The only caveat was getting in and out without getting caught.
Chicago, 2:30 a.m.
J.T.’S HOUSE WAS DARK. The garage door was closed. Someone from the Colby Agency had come by and secured the place.
But Eve knew where he kept his spare key.
She made her way through the dark to the barbecue grill. Beneath the gas grill’s fuel tank was the key. With it clasped in her hand, she hurried across the backyard and to the rear entrance.
As soon as the door was open, she entered the security code to deactivate the system and stop the chime that signaled the alarm was armed.
Moving through the darkness, she made her way to his bedroom. He kept his Beretta on the top shelf of the closet beneath a handful of baseball caps. She grabbed the holstered weapon and an extra ammo clip.
Taking advantage of the resources available, Eve packed a plastic shopping bag with certain necessities and checked J.T.’s home-office Rolodex for the address she needed. She then hurried out of the house, rearming the security system as she went.
After loading back into the car and driving away, she realized that the fact that she didn’t encounter the enemy was yet another indication the game was winding down. The enemy was confident enough in its position that it was no longer maintaining all levels of surveillance. It now boiled down to whether J.T. could hold his own with Rebecca James.
Eve drove straight to the Lincoln Park address and determined her strategy.
A sign near the stoop indicated there was a security system. Eve didn’t have the necessary equipment on hand to deactivate it. All she had was the few items she’d collected at J.T.’s.
Ground-floor windows were all locked. From the kitchen window she could see that the security system was armed. Great.
