DEADLY GAMES Jaycee Clark 1

by james

  this scar?” A long slash ran from there to his armpit.

  “Knife.”

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  “Hmmm.…” Her hands swirled through his hair to his other pec. Many wanted a

  complete beefed bull. Not her. Men with too much muscle had never been her thing.

  Athletic, yes, muscled, yes, and Ian was…. He was…. “Bloody damn perfect,” she

  muttered, leaning down and kissing him.

  His hands ran down the backs of her thighs, pulling her closer to him.

  “My way,” she said, licking his lips.

  “Rori,” he mumbled.

  She grinned and cradled his head in her palms, kissing him as deeply as she could,

  hoping he could read in that act what she couldn’t put into words.

  She ran her hands down his face, the water trailing her, down his corded neck. She

  gasped when she felt one of his hands playing near the back of her thighs, so close …

  so…

  She moaned as his fingers slid deeper.

  “M-m-my…way…” She leaned her head back, heard his chuckle gravel on the

  wet air between them.

  His other hand, ran up her stomach, her abdominal muscles tightening in his

  wake. He grazed his thumb over her breast.

  With his arm around her, he all but jerked her forward.

  She stared down at him. He looked up at her, through wet spiky lashes, and slowly

  leaned forward. She watched as he circled her breast with his tongue, then pulled the

  center into his mouth.

  She gasped, and held his head.

  She wanted to make him lose control, not her.

  She shoved his head away and wiggled out of his arm. “You can put your hands

  on my hips, and only my hips unless I tell you otherwise.”

  His grin was slow, but still she could see pain in his eyes. “And if I don’t.”

  “It will be very bad for you, boyo.”

  He leaned back against the wall, his hands on her hips and pulled her with him.

  She stepped up on the ledged and lowered to her knees.

  His grin turned wicked.

  She shook her head, and slid off his lap, ran her hands down his thighs. They

  tightened under her fingers. She looked up at him, as she ran her hands up the insides of

  his thighs until she cupped and fondled him.

  Grinning herself, she leaned in and kissed him, licking him and finally, taking him

  in her mouth.

  He hissed, his hands holding her head.

  “Rori.”

  She slowly licked her way back up to the tip of him, around and around, and then

  released him. “What? You don’t like it?”

  He jerked her to her feet. “Too damn much.”

  Shaking her head, she once again straddled him. “You know what your problem

  is, Mr. Kinncaid?”

  He watched her, reached between them and those wicked fingers of his danced

  over her.

  “No, Mrs. Kinncaid, what is my problem.”

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  She paused. Mrs. Kinncaid. Shaking off the stupid thrill that had shot through her,

  she mumbled-moaned, “You’re too bleeding controlled.”

  He grunted.

  She reached down and pulled his hand away. “My way. Or I’ll get you just to the

  point and then go to bed.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’d only do it once.”

  She leaned back to study him, even as she took him in her hand and slid herself

  slowly down on his erection. “Is that a threat?”

  His eyes darkened, and his arms came up to hold her, but then he dropped them to

  his side. “It’s a promise, babe.”

  She grinned. “One day when I don’t want you so badly, I’ll have to try it.”

  She closed her eyes, moving as gently on him as the water falling on them.

  One day?

  One day….

  She had no idea how long they kissed, their hands running over wet skin as she

  made love to him in the shower, but soon, the tempo increased, his features hardening, a

  slight blush staining his cheeks. He reached between them and raked his fingers over that

  one spot that would shatter her.

  “Come with me,” he said, his other hand, wrapping around her nape to pull her

  down for his kiss.

  His fingers did a wicked dance, his tongue parried and forayed with hers, his

  thrusts hit deep within her… And through it all, she just wanted to hear him…

  He groaned, thrusting again, his finger pressing her small bundles of nerves

  against him buried deep inside her.

  She shattered, yelling out his name.

  One day….

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  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Elianya, or rather Alla as she was calling herself, looked over the files she’d

  found. Mr. Dimitri Petrolov, with a dozen or more aliases was no more than a rich boy.

  His family owned high-class hotels all over the globe. She herself had stayed in

  several of their more exclusive resorts.

  Ian Kinncaid.

  What a little family man.

  Four brothers, all but one married with families of their own. Two parents, still

  married and a little great grandmother in Ireland.

  She grimaced. Alla simply did not work with the elderly. They terrified her with

  their eyes seeming to look either through you or all the way down to your soul.

  Old people made her very nervous.

  Alla wondered at Mr. Ian Kinncaid. What had made him leave the security of that

  home, that family to become the person she knew as Dimitir Petrolov.

  Did his family know he worked for his government in places the general public

  wanted to forget existed.

  Probably not.

  So how could she get to him?

  She’d heard that the attempt on him had failed.

  Idiot. She’d thought the contact would be intelligent enough to handle this

  situation, but since that was not the case, Alla would handle it herself.

  And have a hell of a time doing it.

  So who could she get to? Any of them. She could become his mother’s new best

  friend. Probably couldn’t seduce the father. If he’d been married to the same woman, that

  long, he might not be that easy. Then again, maybe he would. She’d keep her ideas open.

  The brothers? The oldest was married to some writer and had twins. She pulled up

  their picture. Lovely happy little family. He might be doable. Handsome enough.

  The next on her list was Gavin. A woman’s doctor. She immediately nixed him.

  He might see through some of her lies. Then again, he might not. But a man who saw

  women’s bodies as landmarks and made a living out of noticing deficiencies was not

  someone she wanted to bed.

  The next.… Brayden. Newly married as well within the last year. And what a

  lovely little girl he had.

  Her business brain tallied what she might get for the girl on the market. Maybe

  that’s the angle.

  But then she remembered the girl had been kidnapped before with some cousin,

  which meant her parents probably kept a very close eye on her anyway. Maybe not. But

  she’d think about it.

  The last brother’s face flashed on screen.

  Wasn’t he the changeling? He looked nothing like his other brothers who were all

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  black haired and blue eyed. This one, she checked his name--Quinlan--took after his

  mother. Green eyes, dark brown hair
with tints of red. Handsome himself, just different

  from his brothers and just a bit … innocent looking. She grinned. Oh, she could have fun

  with this one. Her source confirmed that he lived in the DC. hotel.

  She still thought he was probably her best bet on getting an ‘in’ with the family.

  He wasn’t around the others much. And even if he had a guard, she didn’t really look like

  Elianya Hellisnki with the different colored contacts and new hair color and style.

  “The things I will teach you,” she muttered, tapping her long red nail on computer

  screen of his picture.

  She looked over at the file folder open to a photo of both Ian Kinncaid and Dimitri

  Petrolov. Even knowing they were the same man, they were so different, she might never

  had put them together.

  Dimitri simply looked different, to her. Harder, colder somehow. The Reaper.

  Ian Kinncaid was The Saint.

  She smiled. “Your time is coming, my friend.”

  No one rejected her, especially no man, and no one betrayed her, the way he had.

  Taking a hit on her….

  She shook her head and looked back at the computer screen. “Quinlan Kinncaid.”

  * * * *

  Ian sat in the chair he’d sat in years ago and looked at the man behind the dest.

  Jock sat, dressed in his normal chinos and a cable knit sweater, his shoulders more

  stooped, his hands atop each other on the blotter, and those once leveling eyes seemed

  almost lost.

  He shouldn’t care.

  But he did. Damn it.

  “Is everyone all right this morning?” Jock asked.

  Ian nodded and shifted, putting his ankle on his other knee.

  A heavy silence thickened the air between them.

  Ian sat, not saying a word and wishing he knew what to say. His skin itching, he

  stood and walked to the window looking out the back lawns. The workers had arrived

  already and were working on replacing window panes. Should keep them busy for an

  entire day.

  The lawns were brown, dormant for the cold winter to come. The leaves, he knew

  had vibrant shades of red, orange and yellow only a month before were a dull brown upon

  the ground beneath their bare branched trees.

  His mother rose bushes were bare. He’d forgotten how she’d like to plant a new

  one every year.

  “I’ve called all your brothers. Your mother wants her damn dinner tonight. Quin

  doesn’t know if he can make it.”

  Ian smiled. “The workaholic wouldn’t know what to do without a timetable.”

  Jock grunted and Ian looked over his shoulder at him.

  “And you don’t think family dinners are important?”

  Ian closed his eyes and shook his head. “Jock, don’t start.”

  Silence again. This time longer than before. Ian needed to call Johnno and check

  again to see if he’d learned anything else. He needed to get to the office and meet with

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  Pete, there were things he needed to see to ahead of time.

  A lawyer. He’d call Millbanks and see if he could draft up a new will. Never

  before did he care what happened to his stuff. He’d just left it all to Aiden.

  Now?

  Now he had someone to look after. Darya. And legally Rori … and then...

  “Why is someone trying to kill you?” Jock broke the silence.

  Ian sighed. “We’ve been over this, I can’t talk about it.” He didn’t turn from the

  window.

  “You said your cover was blown.” A pause. “What cover?”

  Ian finally turned from the window and walked back to sit in the chair. Steepling

  his fingers, he looked at his father. “Do you really want to know?” He held his father’s

  stare. Not that he could tell him.

  Jock stared at him, then blinked and finally shook his head. “I guess not.”

  Ian looked at his watch. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I have meetings. Did you

  need something?”

  Jock started to shake his head, then he tapped the top of his desk. Tilting his head,

  he said, “Do you remember when you were a boy?”

  Where was this going? “Yeah.”

  A smile lifted one side of Jock’s lips and a chuckle danced out. “You used to pull

  so many pranks I didn’t know if I wanted to strangle you or if I wanted to laugh.”

  Ian laced his fingers over his stomach and listened, frowning.

  “You were going to work side by side with Aiden. Always were since you two

  were little. I’d take you to the hotels with me. Your mother and I used to argue over what

  you’d do when you’d grow up. She wanted more kids in medicine. I said more hotels.”

  Jock’s smile turned nostalgic and he looked not at Ian, not at himself, but at some

  memory Ian couldn’t see.

  “You boys grew up on us. Faster than we ever imagined. Aiden went to the hotels

  and.…”

  Ian took a deep breath. “And I didn’t.” He grabbed the arm rests, intent on

  standing.

  “Sit down for a damn minute.” Jock barked, his eyes their old sharp self.

  Ian leaned back.

  “I know you’re busy. I know you haven’t been back here in years and when you

  do finally return, we don’t have three words to say to each other.” Jock frowned, and

  twirled the gold band on his finger. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I never meant.… That

  is.…” He raked his hand through his hair and stood. “Hell.”

  Ian waited.

  “What made you come back now?” Jock asked, looking out the window Ian had

  vacated earlier.

  Ian licked his lips and shifted. “I had to.”

  “Because of your job?” Jock looked at him.

  Ian shook his head. “Partly. Mostly to make certain everyone was all right.”

  Jock nodded, looked down and ran his fingers along the window sill. “Ryan said

  something the other day and I’ve heard him and Tori whispering.”

  Damn.

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  Those eyes pierced him to the chair. “This isn’t the first time you’ve been back is

  it?”

  Ian thought about lying. He propped his elbow on the armchair and his temple on

  his fist. “No.”

  Jock nodded then shook his head, his shoulders rose on a deep breath. His voice

  so quiet, Ian had to lean forward to hear him, Jock said, “Did you really think I meant

  what I said that day?”

  Ian didn’t move, didn’t speak. Another lie rose easily to his mind, but he shook it

  off. “No.” He shrugged and sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’d hoped not, but I

  wasn’t about to test it.”

  Jock walked back and leaned against the desk. “You said some things that day that

  pissed me off.”

  Ian cocked a brow. “I remember it the other way around.”

  Jock crossed his arms and glanced down then back up. “But what you said that

  day was right. I was wrong.”

  Ian blinked and stared at his father. Hell had frozen over and he’d missed it. Not

  because his father was wrong, but because the great Jock Kinncaid had admitted he was

  wrong. Ian took a deep breath and knew that was as close to an apology as it could get.

  “None of the other boys ever knew, but your mother and I.…” Jock shook his

  head and waved his hand, walking back around the desk.

  “You and Mom what?” Ian asked.

  “She figured ou
t what happened and weedled the rest out of me.”

  Damn. Ian stared at him, then grinned, then started to laugh. “I bet that was fun.”

  Jock didn’t grin, but narrowed his gaze at him. “I don’t remember it too fondly as

  it’s the only time in all our years of marriage she made me sleep somewhere else.”

  “Oh.” What else could he say?

  “Where’d you go when you left here?”

  Ian leaned back as Jock sat in the chair beside him. “Around. I dropped the car

  off, checked my bank accounts and had Aiden put anything I made from then on into

  stocks, since he’s so good at that sort of thing.”

  “You never touched those accounts after one large withdrawal that first

  afternoon,” Jock said.

  Ian grinned. “Checked that out, did you? Figured you would. I took out what I

  wanted to that first day and opened a Swiss account.” He shrugged. “Between interest and

  work, I made enough.”

  “And after that?”

  “Joined the army. Became a Ranger.”

  His father pulled back a bit. “You were a Ranger?”

  Ian nodded. “Yeah. For awhile”

  A slow smile started across his father’s face. One some part of him had hoped to

  see again, and another part that had always said he didn’t give a damn if he did or not--

  pride.

  “And?” Jock asked leaning closer. “I always wanted to do that. But your

  grandfather had no use for a soldier in the family.” He waved his hand. “Things were

  different then. So I took the road paved for me and found your mother and the rest is

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  history.”Ian had never known that. “You wanted to join the army?”

  Jock shrugged. “I wanted to be a paratrooper like my father. Fought in WWII.

  You’d have thought he wanted a son in the military. Grandfather was even against it. But

  to be fair to them, they’d both lost family members in both World Wars.”

  Ian tilted his head. “Learn something new every day.”

  “So you’re a Ranger?” Jock asked again, shaking his head.

  “Retired. Went to work for a different … branch,” he supplied.

  Jock frowned. “What does that mean?”

  Ian chose his words carefully. “I do undercover work. That’s all you need to

  know. And this is the last of my last assignment.”

  “This?”

  Ian waved the question away and sat up. He looked into Jock’s eyes and said, “I