by Diana Duncan
Zack swore. “You always were too smart for your own good.”
“I watched that woman railroad my brother into a super-max prison on planted, circumstantial evidence.” She’d repeatedly relived the unending nightmare since Connor’s arrest. “Only an idiot wouldn’t figure out she had ulterior motives of some kind.”
“You are running your own investigation. Right under our noses.”
“I’m not exactly a sit-home-and-knit woman.”
Stalking to the kitchen again, Zack threw away the crockery shards and rinsed out the rag. He poured himself fresh coffee before he strode into the living room to claim the sofa across from her chair. “Dammit, Delaney, leave the investigating to the pros.”
“Hey, I dug up stuff in months that apparently took Portland’s finest over a year. I found out Zinter sentenced a significant number of convicted junkies to participate in the Liberty Rehab Program, just prior to them becoming drooling human doorstops. I found the judge’s unregistered hideaway here on the coast, and photographed a string of creepy visitors nobody can identify.”
“What you did was risk your life! Our cover was solid, but we didn’t know a judge was the top player. Once we hit her radar, it wasn’t tough for her to make us as cops. We were circling too close, and she planned to kill us at that meet.” He glared at her over his cup. “But Connor caught the vibe. You know him and his Spidey sense.”
“I do,” she said quietly.
“Our superhero kept it to himself. He fed me a friggin’ false lead and went to the rendezvous early. Zinter was all set to sting us with the bad-cop-kills-good-cop scenario. Make it look like Connor had turned bad for real and was dealing, then killed me when I tried to shut him down. But Connor’s solo appearance torpedoed their plan.”
“So they turned on him.”
“Yeah. Zinter sent one of her own dealers to see a cop at the station who was on her payroll, and wrangle immunity as a confidential informant. The dealer ‘confided’ to the cop that Connor blackmailed him with arrest threats in exchange for product to sell on the down-low. The asshole produced all the necessary ‘proof’ to sew Connor up nice and tight. Then Zinter’s crew whacked their own snitch and planted more evidence to ‘prove’ Connor did him to keep him from testifying.”
Zack plunked his empty mug onto the coffee table. “The set-up was intricate and air-tight. The ‘evidence’ impossible not to believe. At the trial, you saw the lying junkies, the protected witnesses who claimed to be Connor’s clients. You saw the expertly doctored surveillance. Zinter is incredibly dangerous, Lanie. We don’t know the extent of her involvement. We do know she has other law enforcement personnel in her pocket, possibly even an FBI agent.”
“So you two decided to keep me in the dark. Even when Connor went to jail.”
“We couldn’t tell you. Especially after…”
“They threatened me.” Thunder muttered overhead, and her fingers tightened around the warm stoneware.
His wary gaze tracked the slight movement. “Yeah. They warned Connor if he didn’t comply, you’d have a fatal ‘accident.’” He glanced out the window as a savage lash of sleet skittered across the pane. “In order to keep both you and the case alive, I pretended to believe their twisted fairytale that my partner was on the take and had been plotting my murder. Connor saved my life. I had to break up with you. Had to transfer to Phoenix to forge new police connections outside Zinter’s circle.”
“You could’ve let me in on it. I could’ve helped!”
He massaged the bridge of his nose. “What part of ‘sworn oath’ don’t you get? Did you expect me to jeopardize not only your life, but Connor’s, and the lives of other undercover officers? And compromise a federal investigation?”
She sighed. “You wouldn’t be the outstanding detective I know…” —and had loved— “…if you did.”
“It was rough on you, and I’m sorry. It wasn’t easy for me, either. I hoped and prayed keeping your brother breathing, and eventually clearing his name, would go a long way toward earning your forgiveness.”
“I can’t believe you both sold me on the scam.”
A half-smile. “Admit it, we’re fucking awesome cops.”
“More like awesome liars.”
The smile vanished. “You can trust me, babe. With your life.”
“Okay, that I buy.” Her life, absolutely. Her heart? Maybe not.
“I’m not giving up, on you or Connor. I’ll see this case through to the bitter end. And you need to understand why you have to stop investigating.” He leaned forward. “Zinter’s reach is even longer than we knew. I suspect even the prison warden and some of his officers are in her employ. Connor was scheduled for a parole hearing. Zinter quashed it, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Her guys got to Connor inside the prison, drugged him.”
“There weren’t any drugs in his system.”
“Nothing the docs could trace. But I’ve seen someone else in his condition before.”
She cast aside her untouched drink. “Where? When?”
“While I was in Phoenix, I recruited an officer nobody from Portland would recognize. Newbie earned his way inside the cartel, started feeding back intel. We were paranoid, covered our asses every which way. But recently, he broke contact.” He paused. “We found him in an alley, unconscious, not a mark on him…just like Connor. Until a couple days ago, he was laying in a hospital bed, unresponsive, hooked up to a vent…just like Connor. We think Zinter’s guys juiced him up with a substance we can’t identify yet.”
“What— What happened to your officer?”
“He woke up. Hospital had standing orders to call me. I blue-lighted it over there. He…” Zack scrubbed a trembling hand over his face. “Phil was screaming. I’ve seen some bad shit in my time but— God Almighty, I’ve never heard such animal suffering wrenched out of a human being. The nurses sedated him, but he screamed for more than an hour. The only thing we could make out was his name. He kept shrieking it over and over…‘Phillip Chambers’. Then he went into violent convulsions and his heart stopped. He’s dead.”
All the blood drained from her head. The room whirled. “What did you say his name was?”
“Phil. Phillip Chambers, why?”
Balor, looming over the altar. I command forth your name.
Phillip Chambers.
Unholy, unending screams.
Delaney wrapped her arms around herself. She and Zack had watched the same man die at the same time…on two separate planes. A man who’d been investigating Connor’s case. “My brother,” she whispered. “No!”
Zack strode over to crouch in front of her. “Someone from the cartel must’ve breached the hospital and finished Phil off. That’s not gonna happen to Connor. We’re guarding him 24/7.”
“Wasn’t the department guarding Chambers?”
“Yes. However, now we’re on red alert. Nobody’s slipping through the net. Only pre-screened personnel are allowed to touch Connor, and they’re checked and double-checked before they’re let into his room.”
Zack stroked her cheek. Outside, the storm raged. “Delaney, I won’t hurt you again. I won’t lie to you. I promise, never again.”
He reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a ring. Her engagement ring. The one she’d left on his desk at the precinct the day after he’d called off their wedding. “I bought this for you, and you should have it. Sell it, hell, throw it in the ocean if you want. I don’t expect you to wear it…at least not right now. Maybe never. But after this is over, if there’s any part of you that still loves me—” He inhaled a harsh breath. “If you can forgive me…well…I’d like to start fresh. Someday.”
Delaney stared at the glittering diamond solitaire Zack placed carefully in her palm, as stunned if she’d never seen it before.
Even a week ago, Zack’s soul-baring confession would have melted her heart. Now all she could think about were the implications. Was it possible people weren’t being brain-damaged and killed by a new drug…but by being drai
ned of their essences by preternatural methods human law enforcement couldn’t rationalize any other way? If so, she could never tell the pragmatic cop. Never explain.
Mind reeling, she looked into her ex-fiancé’s steadfast, hopeful eyes.
Zack would never believe her.
But the century-old Scottish Mage waiting for her in the bedroom would.
Chapter 9
Delaney closed the front door on Zack’s reluctant departure and rested her forehead against the wood. Every limb felt leaden, and the inside of her skull clanged so loudly she could barely think. Persuading him to go had required concerted effort. She’d convinced him she was all right. Promised to call or text him, Archer, or Vanessa every day to check in. He’d insisted on leaving his netbook so she could email when she didn’t have phone service.
Zack had actually pulled Archer’s tattered Bible from the bookcase and made her swear she would stop running a solo investigation.
He knew her too well, or at least the woman she’d been. A sigh heaved out. She’d taken the oath with a clear conscience. Zack and Connor weren’t the only ones who could lie by omission. She no longer had to investigate solo.
She had Rowan’s help.
All clear. She used the easier method of communicating with Rowan. He’s gone.
A blurry form wavered in her peripheral vision and Rowan appeared beside the fireplace. She slowly turned. He’d put on a gray sweatshirt and black boots with his jeans.
“How did you— You didn’t wait in the bedroom.”
His silent glower was darker than the thunderclouds.
“You were out here the whole time. That was you throwing a tantrum with the storm when Zack kissed me.”
He prowled toward her, shoving up his shirtsleeves. “I don’t like him touching you.”
“Don’t like—” It was too much. Too many damned proprietary men. She snapped ramrod straight. “Who died and left you in charge?”
He planted his palms on either side of her, trapping her between sinewed forearms. Heat radiated off him in waves. “Too many to count have died. I’m your mentor. You do what I tell you to.”
“Mentor this.” She slammed her knee upward.
He whirled, avoiding the blow. Long fingers clamped her forearm, spun her around to face the door. Implacable hands cuffed both her wrists on either side of her head as Rowan’s considerable weight pinned her against the cold wood. His big body was as hard as granite along her back—all over—and his Power flared hotly over her every nerve ending. “You’re mine, now,” he growled, his breath warm on her neck. “I protect what’s mine.”
Delaney’s fury flashed into arousal. Her nipples tightened as delicious shivers sparkled up her spine. She couldn’t scrounge up a scrap of her own Power. Yikes. Deep in over your head, much?
She tried to speak with a throat gone dry. “So. You’ve proved you’re the man.”
His husky laugh vibrated through her, flooding her with need. Warm satin lips brushed her ear. “I’ve barely begun, luv.”
Her breath hitched and her toes curled in her boots. A few more seconds, and she’d be having another—
“Aye, you can,” he whispered. Feather-light lips roved to nuzzle the sensitive spot behind her earlobe. His erection teased the crease in her leggings over her bottom. “Is it pleasure you’re wanting from me, then?”
She shivered again. Summoned every ounce of self-control. “N-no. No.”
Instantly, Rowan’s weight and warmth disappeared.
She was free. Cold. Empty.
Delaney cautiously turned to see him watching her, heavy-lidded eyes molten jade beneath thick lashes. She inhaled. “Okay… What was with the rip tide at Testosterone Beach?”
“Rule Number One.” His sensual mouth curled at one corner. “Never underestimate your opponent.” He turned his back and sauntered toward the kitchen. “Want some food? I’m famished.”
“That was a lesson?” She sputtered. “You…” Her brain short-circuited, and she charged him, at the same time slinging her Power.
Without looking around, he raised his hand, flicked his fingers. A bump of his Power staggered her. “Rule Number One,” he said. “Again.”
She swore. Regained her footing. “Teach me well, oh Obi-Wan MacLachlan. Because one of these days, I will kick that gigantic ego down the coastline and back.”
Smiling, he opened the fridge and extracted a carton of milk, left over from the perishables she’d stocked during her earlier solo stay and forgotten to toss before her hasty departure. “You can try.”
“‘Do…or do not. There is no try.’” She shook her head. “Geez, Connor is the sci-fi nut, and here I’m the one preparing to do battle with the evil Empire.” She studied the stubborn set of Rowan’s chin. “You were furious in the living room. And then you…weren’t.”
“I’ve had a long time to learn not to let temper best me. Your own emotions are your worst enemy, Delaney. You remind me of—Braden.” He tugged a pot from the drawer beneath the stove, filled it with water. “My cousin struggled with control when he was younger. Got burned, literally. Time and time again. I’d like to see you avoid that.”
“Yeah, I’d rather avoid it myself.”
He fired up the gas and stared at the blue flames for a moment before settling the pot on the burner. “You have a headache, do you not?”
She rubbed her tender forehead. “How did you—”
“You used Power in Zack’s presence. Consequences happen when we visibly wield Magic in front of humans. It’s called Discord. Discord can be different every time, even for the same person, and run the gamut from minimal, to dangerous, to lethal. It can rebound on you, can rebound on anyone or anything. Discords can change. Grow less or grow worse. Usually, the stronger the Magic, the more serious the Discord. Apparently, you get sick.”
“That’s why you pack a gun. For use on…human enemies.”
“Aye.” He opened the cupboard and reached for the carton of oatmeal. “You must leash your Power, lass.”
“You can teach me, right?”
“Only if you’re willing to learn.” He dumped oats into bubbling water, stirred. “Come here.”
“Why?” She eyed him warily. “You seem to be doing fine with breakfast.”
“I wasn’t asking for help with the porridge. ‘Tis one of the few things Mum managed to teach me to cook.” One dark brow arched in challenge. “Afraid to get too close?”
“Of course not.”
His smile widened. He crooked his index finger in a come hither.
Delaney hesitated. The rat had purposefully backed her into a no-win corner. If she stayed put, she’d appear leery of getting close to him. If she went, she was obeying his beck and call. And he knew it. Nobody could fault MacLachlan’s tactical skills.
Cowardice didn’t run in her veins. Teeth clenched, she marched over and planted herself in front of him. But when he unexpectedly reached for her face, she couldn’t stop an instinctive flinch.
Rowan’s hands froze a millimeter from touching her, his rugged features shocked. “Are you afraid of me?” he asked gently.
Not for the reason you’re asking. “No! I mean… I know you wouldn’t hurt me. I just… I don’t want another—”
“Ah.” He frowned. “I need you to trust me. As your mentor. As your protector. The day is coming when you will have to obey me instantly and without question. Or one—or both of us—may die. You ken?”
She tensed. “That’s a giant pill for me to swallow, MacLachlan. You ken?”
“There can be only one general, or even the best plans disintegrate into pandemonium, aye?”
“Agreed. Grudgingly.”
“And I have the battle experience and tactical skills, aye?”
“Damn you, do you have to be so logical?”
His sumptuous mouth quirked. “With you, luv, I’m thinking I do. Flawlessly so.” Holding her gaze, he slowly brought his hands forward, until his fingertips rested on her forehead, his thumb
s cupping her chin. “I will never force myself on you. In any way.” His deep brogue was soft, reassuring. “What happened after our shower was unintentional. I won’t do it again…” His thumbs stroked her jawline. “Until you consent.”
In other words, she only had to ask, and he would give her an orgasm. Her stomach flipped as green spilled into his irises, and she tensed further.
“Relax,” he murmured.
Easier said than done.
I know. His lips twitched. But what did I hear from you? Do or do not. There is no try.
Every time she thought she had the stubborn Scot pegged, he tossed her another curveball. Her own smile sneaked out, and she relaxed.
Her headache vanished.
Rowan dropped his hands, returned his attention to the simmering pot. “How about if you make the toast?”
Toast. She gathered her scattered wits. “Sure. And I can crisp some bacon in the microwave, if you want.”
“Mmm.” His wolfish grin made her stomach do another tap-dance. “I want.”
Once they were seated at the table, Delaney ate her breakfast while Rowan consumed three bowls of oatmeal, four pieces of toast and half a pound of bacon with impeccable manners…and the single-minded attention of someone who relished every morsel.
As he polished off his second glass of orange juice, realization hit, and she set down her own glass. “Rowan? You were starved, weren’t you?”
He went still, surprise in his gaze. Considered her for long moments. “Among other things.”
He’d mentioned being betrayed, helpless, and hurt, and wanting to die. He’d been tortured! A flash of anger shook her, rattled the dishes. At his warning glance, she concentrated on dissipating it before speaking. “Would you…can you talk about it?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw, the only show of emotion. “I’ll tell you what you need to know. Not now. Right now, I need intel about this judge, and the people who framed your brother.”
“I have it stored in remote encrypted files on a secure online server. With an auto-send to Archer and the DA in the event of my death...just in case. Let me pull up what I’ve got so far.”
