by Debra Webb
She inclined her head and stared at him in amazement. With complete certainty she knew that what had happened between them in that hotel had affected him, maybe not to the extent it had her, but he’d felt something. And yet, he still appeared prepared to kill her. Or maybe the suggestion was his offhanded way of trying to save her.
“Still think I’m worth saving?” he taunted.
She looked him straight in the eye and said what she felt in her heart…in her gut. “Yes. I do. Despite the kind of man your father is—despite everything he did to you—I know there’s something good inside you. It’s just buried under so much pain and cynicism that I can barely see it.”
He made another of those humorless sounds. “You don’t know anything about my father. He was responsible for the death of an innocent family and caused all of this.”
She’d tried hard to keep her emotions in check—to keep an objective prospective—that went out the window. “I know he did everything in his power to turn you into some sort of unfeeling monster. But it didn’t work, did it?” She pushed to her feet, circled him slowly. He held very still, not even breathing. When she faced him again, she crouched down and peered into that feral gaze. “You felt something when we were together. I know you did. I felt it, too. So don’t try and play dead with me, Seth. I know better.”
He pushed forward as far as his bindings would allow and with heart-gripping sensuality and intimacy whispered, “Just because I fucked you and liked it doesn’t mean I won’t kill you and like it just as much.”
The words were a direct hit to her more fragile emotions. Hurt hurdled through her, and she drew back slightly before she could stop the outward reaction. He smiled, the expression sinister.
“See, Tasha, that’s the difference between us. We both have our causes, but I’m prepared to see mine through no matter what it takes. Can you say the same?”
For one long moment she stared into those eyes, knowing with complete certainty that he spoke the truth. He would kill her here and now if given the chance. Whatever it was about him that her instincts urged her to believe in, she damn sure couldn’t see it at the moment. No matter the atrocities he’d faced as a child, as a man, he was still a killer.
And it was her job to see that he didn’t fulfill his mission.
Long minutes passed in silence. There was more she wanted to say, but it wouldn’t matter. The only thing she could do was wait.
He looked away abruptly…appeared to listen intently. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Every fiber of her being went on alert as his gaze returned to hers.
“He’s here. Cut me loose and I’ll protect you.”
She gave her head a little shake and rolled her eyes. “I think I’ll take my chances on my own.”
“Then you’ll die.”
Ignoring his comment, she stood, tucked his weapon in her jeans at the small of her back, and, at the same time, heard what he’d likely picked up on five seconds earlier. Leberman had come in through the back. The slightest shuffle of a single step touched her auditory senses. Moving away from the dim light of the entry hall and into the darkness of the dining room, she listened intently for more movement.
The kitchen.
A faint scuffling sound.
Moving in the direction, she frowned. What the hell was he doing? Trying to give himself away?
“Turn on the light, Agent North.”
She flinched. The haughty sound of his voice grated across her nerve endings.
“Put your weapon down, Leberman,” she ordered. Squinting, she could barely make out his silhouette in the darkness. Something was wrong…
“Turn on the light or she dies now,” he snapped. “You see,” he went on in a much calmer voice, “after your call I picked up a little insurance.”
She. Tasha’s senses charged to a higher state of alert, she eased toward the wall nearest the door leading into the entry hall, where the light switch was most likely located. The fingers of her free hand located and activated the switch. She blinked quickly to adjust to the brightness and then her heart surged into her throat.
Leberman shielded his body with a young girl. Sixteen or seventeen, tops. Her eyes were wide with fear. Judging by the way she was dressed she was probably a prostitute. New at the profession, Tasha immediately determined. Her hair was too shiny, too full of body and life, her skin still looked clear and smooth. Dammit. Where the hell were her parents?
Leberman held a knife, probably from this very kitchen, close to her throat. She cried out as he pressed the sharp stainless steel even harder against her soft flesh. The swift bloom of bright red tears beneath the shiny blade jerked Tasha from the stunned spell.
“All right,” she relented. “Let her go and I’ll put down my weapon.”
Leberman laughed with the same haughtiness that he’d spoken. “You put down your weapon and I’ll let her go. That’s the way it works. You see, Agent North, I’m in charge of this game. Not you. And certainly not Lucas Camp.”
She now had the distinct feeling that both Leberman and Seth had known from the beginning who she was…it couldn’t simply have been since she’d planted the tracking device in his car to give herself away. Leberman exuded the kind of confidence that went with knowledge held over time…not recent, surprising news. He wasn’t the least bit surprised. He’d known. She was sure of it. She just didn’t know how.
She didn’t want to give up her weapon…but those bloody tears slid down the girl’s long, slender neck.
“Put it down now!” Leberman commanded.
Slowly Tasha laid her weapon on the closest counter. The thought of dying left a bad taste in her mouth, but at least she’d managed to distract both Leberman and Seth while Victoria and Lucas escaped to safety. That was something.
Then again, she wasn’t dead yet. She looked straight at Leberman. “Your turn. Let her go,” she said pointedly.
He shook his head. “Not quite yet.” He nodded to the counter. “Lay the weapon on the floor and kick it over here.”
She had one split second to make the decision.
Tasha reached for her weapon. It was cocked already.
She bent at the knees as if she planned to do as he’d asked.
Instead she fired.
He jerked when the shot hit his right shoulder.
The knife clanged to the floor.
Shrieking, the girl scrambled away from him.
When Tasha would have taken a second shot, one aimed right between his beady eyes, the muzzle of his weapon stared right back at her.
He’d been holding a gun in his left hand. The girl’s blouse where he’d held her anchored to him by her waist had covered his hand and the weapon.
Shit.
Tasha straightened to her full height, kept the weapon leveled carefully between his eyes. “I guess we have the proverbial Mexican standoff.”
Leberman smiled sardonically. “Well, I do have a bit of leverage, Agent North.”
“Really?” She lifted a brow in question. “And what would that be, scumbag?”
“The man standing behind you.”
She held perfectly still, allowing the rush of goose bumps over her skin to tell her that Seth was, in fact, right behind her. She’d tied him securely, but somehow he’d managed to free himself. He tugged his weapon from her waistband and she cursed herself.
Curled in the fetal position, the young girl sobbed quietly in the corner. That was the worst atrocity of all, Tasha told herself in the next moment. She was a trained agent. She’d known going into this thing that death was a possibility. But the girl—she was innocent on that score. Tasha’s call had dragged her into this. For that she suddenly felt a truckload of remorse.
“You know,” Tasha said, deciding she might as well get her dig in while she could, “I
just can’t figure out why Seth would do your bidding after all you’ve done to him.”
Leberman laughed again, that ugly, evil noise that erupted straight from hell. “Didn’t he tell you? I rescued him…saved his life. He owes me everything. Without me…he wouldn’t exist at all.”
None of what he said made sense. “Saved him from what?” she demanded, unconvinced and allowing him to clearly see her doubt and disgust.
“Why from his negligent parents, of course. They didn’t care what happened to him…left him all alone and lost. But payback is always a bitch, isn’t it, Seth?” Leberman said the words to Seth but never took his eyes off Tasha. “You see, Agent North, we’ve both waited for this for a very long time. Final vengeance is close at hand, and you’re not going to stop it. Neither is Lucas.”
What was he saying? If he wasn’t Seth’s father, then who was? “I’m afraid you’ve lost me,” she tossed back at him. “Call me dense, but I just don’t get it.”
Fury streaked across the slight man’s face. A ferret, she decided. If not for the gray hair, he’d look just like a weasel-faced ferret. She shook off the thought no doubt spawned by hysteria and focused. She had his attention. He would want her to fully understand before she died. One didn’t have to be a psych major to know his type. She had his number already. He only enjoyed the kill if the proper emotional impact was achieved.
“I told his father all those years ago before I killed him what I planned to do.” Leberman laughed, his gaze suddenly distant. “You see, I knew watching her suffer from the loss of her husband would never be enough. So I waited all these years for her to finally put the past behind her and fall in love again before I staged the grand finale. But I told her beloved husband every detail fifteen years ago. He died with those horrible images in his head. God, it felt so good. It was almost enough…but not quite.”
James Colby. He had to be talking about James Colby. Lucas had said that they suspected Leberman had killed Colby fifteen years ago. But what did that have to do with Seth?
“My God,” she murmured as the realization rammed into her brain like a bull charging toward a taunting matador. Seth was…James Colby Jr. He was Victoria’s son. Her gaze focused back on Leberman and a new kind of rage went through her. “You son of a bitch, you stole him away from his parents and then you did…” All those despicable things to him.
“I didn’t have to steal him,” Leberman lashed out, his control slipping marginally. “They left him all alone in those woods. He would have died from exposure or drowned in the lake if I hadn’t rescued him. I saved him.”
That’s why he’d taken her to the woods…that’s why he kept coming back to this place. It had once been his home. A dozen sensations whirled inside Tasha all at once. She so wanted to face Seth and make him believe the truth that she knew. But she couldn’t risk turning her back on Leberman.
“You’re a liar, Leberman,” she said flatly. “Maybe you’ve got Seth fooled, but I know the truth. You stole him from the people who loved him. Victoria still grieves for the son she lost…the one you stole.”
“No! She left him, just like his father did. And now, the son she threw away will have his vengeance, as well as mine. He owes me that. I kept him alive…made him what he is. He will finish this. Kill her now!” he shouted at the man behind her.
She might be headed to hell but she was taking Leberman with her. Her finger tightened around the trigger.
The gun blast echoed in the room.
CHAPTER 35
Lucas stared out over the dark water as it rushed toward the shore. The moon and blanket of stars overhead cast down an ethereal glow which only made the water look more menacing. The isolation suddenly pressed down on him…made him feel small and completely inadequate in the scheme of things.
He had chosen this location precisely because of its isolation. Well north of Chicago, the small waterfront property was owned by the doctor who’d allowed Lucas to use his clinic for his covert meetings with Victoria’s people. But not even the good doctor knew that Victoria and Lucas were here now. He’d long ago given Lucas a standing invitation as well as a key to the property.
Complete secrecy was essential.
He hated like hell to think that there was a leak of some sort or, worse yet, a mole in either his or Victoria’s agency. But there were far too many factors weighing in at the moment to deny that possibility.
Leberman was all too aware of Victoria’s every move, as well as Lucas’s.
As soon as the bastard was taken care of, looking for that inadvertent leak or, God forbid, mole would be Lucas’s next order of business.
No, that wasn’t right.
His next order of business had to be the assassin.
He had already briefed their security detail. Logan, Ferrelli, Callahan and Drake already knew that the assassin was Victoria’s son. No one had questioned the announcement, they’d merely nodded gravely. Ian and Simon knew, as well, both were keeping watch on things at the Colby Agency.
Maverick and Ramon were still searching for North.
Lucas hoped like hell that little girl kept herself alive. For the first time in his career, he wasn’t quite sure he could live with the weight of her death on his shoulders.
And then there was Victoria. How was he supposed to tell her the truth? She had finally accepted the past for what it was—the past. She was ready to move on, to love him. Now that very past threatened not only that love, but also their very lives. How could fate be so cruel? How was he supposed to tell her that her own son wanted her dead?
That he was a brutal, relentless assassin who cared nothing for human life.
Lucas remembered the small boy…had kicked himself over and over for not recognizing him as a man. He’d felt there was something familiar about him, but hadn’t been able to nail down just what it was.
Now he knew.
And he had to figure out some way to tell Victoria.
More important, however, he had to keep her safe. Her son wanted her dead, would likely stop at nothing to see his mission to fruition.
Lucas had recanted his previous order and had issued a new one, that his and Victoria’s people were to maintain visual contact but not to engage the assassin unless absolutely necessary if they located him. As much as he wanted to stop him, he wanted him alive. He couldn’t imagine having to tell Victoria that one of his people had killed her son.
He shuddered at the thought…told himself it was the cool breeze wafting in off the water, but he knew better. The quake he’d felt was one of uncertainty…of fear. Fear for the woman he loved. Fear of losing her.
There was no way to even guess how this would end.
As much as he loved Victoria and wanted to ensure her safety, he knew with complete certainty that she would not survive losing her son a second time.
For one fleeting moment the possibility that he could conceal that truth from her flashed through his mind. If keeping her safe meant killing her son, was there any real reason to tell her the truth? What would it accomplish, other than to bring her more pain?
“Lucas.”
The sound of her voice tugged him from his troubling thoughts, and one look into those dark, caring eyes gave him the answer he sought. He would tell her because he couldn’t lie to Victoria. There had never been a lie between them; he wouldn’t start now.
“Are you coming inside?” she ventured hesitantly.
She looked so lovely with the gentle breeze lifting those loose tendrils of hair around her throat. He longed to see it down again. Longed to touch her…to kiss her. This was the first time he’d seen her dressed so casually. Petal-soft, pale yellow slacks and matching sweater and low-heeled slip-on shoes made her look like a fragile flower.
This was the Victoria he had yearned to know for so very long. The vulnerable, soft side tha
t lacked the tough professional veneer she wore at the office.
Yet he loved both personas more than life itself.
“The bread is warm and the wine has had plenty of time to breathe. Everything’s ready.”
She’d insisted on cooking, swore it would take her mind off things. He’d offered to help, but she’d wanted to do it alone. She’d been right. She looked more relaxed than he’d seen her in months. Since before those horrifying hours on that island when Leberman had been close on that last occasion. The total change, considering all that had happened the past few days, abruptly unsettled him. Had she resigned herself to some fate she’d decided inescapable? Had the presumption that her son had suffered a violent death pushed her over some unseen precipice? Should he tell her right now that her son was alive?
If only he knew the right words to say….
“I won’t let you down, Victoria,” he felt compelled to say as he reached for her, unable to restrain any longer the need to touch her. “I swear to you that I won’t let him harm you in any way.”
The smile that spread across her lips warmed his heart despite his seemingly overwhelming concerns. “I’m not afraid, Lucas,” she said quietly, patiently. “I’m not resigned, either, if that’s what you’re thinking. I have complete faith in your people as well as my own. Leberman won’t win.” She took his hands in hers. “What I am at this moment, more than anything else, is determined.” She let that sink in for a moment, then continued, “Determined to get on with my life. To put the past firmly behind me. I can’t live with it anymore.” She looked deeply into his eyes, the hurt there evolving into need. “Now, come inside, Lucas. We’re going to eat and then we’re going to make love.”
“But—” he began, his body already racing full steam ahead on the very course she’d drawn in his active imagination.
She shook her head, cutting him off. “No buts. Tonight nothing else in this world matters except us.”
* * *
Victoria brimmed with nervous anticipation, so much so she’d scarcely eaten the meal she’d gone to so much trouble to prepare. When Lucas had offered to make coffee, she hadn’t been sure she would be able to contain herself. Finally she’d simply had to spell it out for him.
