The blade flashed in the light as Marcus whipped it toward Trace’s throat. “Freeze, you bastard,” Marcus growled. “Or it’ll be the last move you make.”
Trace lunged again, but the knife pricked his throat, drawing blood. “Don’t make me kill you, Trace,” Marcus said very quietly. “Don’t make me do it.”
Trace stilled, and Marcus shifted so he squatted on the floor next to him, the knife held firmly against the intruder’s throat. “You’re going to answer some questions for me, Trace.”
“Make me.” Trace sneered.
With a flick of his wrist, Marcus drew the knife along his cheek. Blood welled in bright red beads. Jessica felt her stomach roll, but Trace was apparently convinced that Marcus was serious. He lay perfectly still on the floor. “What do you want to know?” he finally asked, his voice sullen.
“When did Simon hire you?”
“About a month ago.”
“How did he find you?”
“It’s not hard to find the right man for the job if you know where to look,” he snarled. “And I have connections.”
“I bet you do,” Marcus muttered. “How did you find Tommy?”
“Simon had a list of Burke’s former employees. I started at the top and worked my way down to Tommy.”
“And why did you pick Ms. Burke?”
Their captive’s eyes flashed. “Because her father could pay the ransom money.”
“Who did you think Simon was?”
The man on the floor shrugged. “Someone who needed money. Or maybe someone with a grudge against Burke. I didn’t care. The only thing I cared about was the money.”
“And where is Simon now?”
“How the hell should I know? He said he was leaving the area.” Rage twisted his face again. “He said he could have used a man like me. I could have been working for him, and now he’s gone.”
Marcus tensed, and Jessica saw him shift closer to Trace. “This is important, Trace, so pay attention. And you’d better answer me straight. A knife can do a lot of damage to a man before it kills him. When did he say he was leaving?”
“Tonight. I called him.”
“From the phone in your apartment?”
“I called him from a phone in the market after I left the apartment.”
“Which phone?”
“How the hell should I remember that?”
“Try real hard,” Marcus said, grabbing Trace’s hair and pulling back his head. He laid the blade of the knife against Trace’s throat. “Because to tell you the truth, I’m getting tired of you.”
For the first time, Jessica saw real fear in Trace’s eyes. He stuttered out an address, and she quickly wrote it down. Marcus glanced at her and gave her a quick glance of approval. “Now call and tell Devane to get over here,” he said to her, and gave her the number.
Before she could move to the telephone, Trace jerked away from Marcus and lunged at her, ignoring the cut the knife left on his throat.
Marcus leaped on his back and wrapped his arms around his neck. Trace ignored him, still trying to reach her. His face was contorted with hatred, and his eyes were almost black with rage.
“Stop, Trace,” Marcus panted. “I don’t want to kill you.”
But the man was beyond reason. He struggled and Jessica could see it took all of Marcus’s strength to hold him. Finally, Trace made one mad lunge for her, and a loud crack echoed through the cottage.
Trace’s eyes widened suddenly, then he went limp. Marcus eased his body to the floor, then dropped the knife and stepped over to Jessica.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Sorry you had to see that.” He wrapped his arms around her.
She burrowed into the comfort of his embrace, shaking almost uncontrollably. “I was afraid he was going to hurt you.”
“It wasn’t me he wanted,” Marcus said grimly. “He wanted to kill you.”
“Shouldn’t we tie him up?” she asked.
“He’s dead.” Marcus’s voice was flat. “His neck is broken.”
She shuddered. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” He reached around her to pick up the phone and dialed a number. After a moment, he said, “Get back over here. And bring damage control.”
He drew her into the other room and positioned himself so he was in front of her. “I didn’t have a choice,” he said in a low voice. “I could see he was beyond reason and determined to kill you. And I would have died myself before I let him touch you.”
“I know.” She reached out and touched his cheek. “Thank you,” she murmured. “You saved my life.”
He wrapped his arms around her, dragging her against him. She could feel him trembling. “I can’t ever remember being that scared,” he whispered against her hair. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine. He never touched me. You made sure of that.”
He pulled away and looked at her, touching her face, smoothing his hand over her hair. It was almost as if he needed to reassure himself that she was still alive. “God, Jessica, I’m sorry you got dragged into this mess.”
She held him tightly as she thought of the dead man in the other room and couldn’t stop the shudder that rippled through her. But then she looked at Marcus and saw the pain in his eyes. Pain for her, she realized. And she had to tell him the truth. “Parts of it were awful,” she said frankly, “but I’m not sorry it happened. If I hadn’t been kidnapped, I never would have met you.”
“That’s a hell of a thing to say.”
“It’s the truth. The awful parts are over. And I still have you.”
His eyes cooled, and she saw regret mixed with determination. To stop him from saying the words she didn’t want to hear, she pulled his head down and kissed him. He stood rigidly for a moment, as if he was trying to stop himself from responding, then groaned and pulled her closer.
She had no idea how long they stood there in the kitchen, holding one another. She lost herself in the emotions that bubbled through her, the relief and love and joy. She lost herself in Marcus.
Suddenly he straightened and moved away from her. He headed for the front of the cottage, and she heard the sound of running feet.
The door burst open, and Russell Devane ran into the room, followed by three other men. They all froze when they saw Steve Trace’s body on the floor.
“What the hell happened?” Devane said in a cold, deadly voice.
“It’s Trace. He wanted Jessica. So he came to get her.”
“And you had to kill him?”
“Yes.”
Jessica heard the implacable, emotionless tone of his voice and shivered.
“But he told us what we need to know before he died.”
Quickly he repeated what Trace had told them, including the information about the phone call to Simon. “Get to that phone and get the number, then find out who he called. There aren’t going to be many other calls from that phone at this time of night. We still have a chance to grab the bastard.”
“I’ll do that.” Devane turned to the other three men. “You take care of the body. The usual procedures.”
“Call me as soon as you have anything,” Marcus said.
Devane nodded. “Will do.” He ran out the door and disappeared into the darkness.
In a matter of minutes the three men had removed Steve Trace’s body and disappeared, as well. Jessica stared at the room, disoriented. It looked exactly as it had just an hour ago. There was no trace of the violent death she had witnessed.
“It’s okay,” Marcus murmured. “We can move to a different cottage.”
“No,” she said, transferring her gaze to Marcus’s face. Resolve hardened inside her. “We don’t have to move. But I do want some answers.”
He nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll tell you everything I can tell you.”
He sat at the kitchen table, and she sat across from him. Almost absently, he reached out and took her hand, and she curled her fingers around his.
“I work for a governme
nt agency,” he began, then he hesitated.
“Are you a spy?” she asked, her eyes lighting up.
“I wouldn’t be quite so melodramatic about it.”
“But you are a secret agent?” she insisted.
“If that’s what you want to call it,” he answered.
“What agency do you work for?”
He stared at her for a long time. “You haven’t heard of us. Very few people have.”
“And no one will hear about it from me.”
Slowly he nodded. “I believe you, Jessica. I know I can trust you.” He took a deep breath. “I work for an agency called SPEAR. We’ve been in existence for a long time. Abraham Lincoln started SPEAR during the Civil War, and we’ve been around ever since. We handle problems that are too delicate to give to the more publicity-hungry agencies. We operate in the background, and very few people know we exist.”
“Is Devane an agent, too?”
“Yeah, and the other men who’ve worked with us.”
“And who is Simon?”
He hesitated for a moment, and she could see that he wanted to brush her off. But finally he nodded. “You deserve to know that, too. We believe Simon used to be one of us. But he’s been trying to destroy the agency for the past year. We’ve been trying to catch him for a long time.”
Her heart contracted painfully in her chest. Marcus trusted her with information that few other people knew. “Why did he try to kidnap me?”
“He needs money very badly. We’ve managed to foil his schemes lately, and he’s running out of cash. He probably figured your father would pay a lot, with no questions asked, to get you back.”
“He was right. My father would have paid anything. But how did he decide to kidnap me?”
Marcus shrugged. “We’re not sure. He’s been in this part of the world for a while and he probably heard about your father. I suspect you were his fall-back plan, and he put your kidnapping in motion after his last scheme fell through. We got a tip that he was heading for Cascadilla, although no one knew why. I came here to wait for him.”
“So when I told you that Steve and Tommy talked about Simon, you knew exactly who I meant.”
He nodded, and his gaze never flinched. “I couldn’t tell you the truth, Jessica. I had no idea who you were. I knew nothing about you or your possible connections to Simon. But as soon as I knew Simon was behind the scheme, I got SPEAR involved.”
“I understand,” she said softly, and caught a look of surprise in Marcus’s eyes. “I’m not angry at you for not telling me the truth. But you might have told me sooner.”
“I should have.” She saw a whisper of regret in his eyes. “But I’m not used to trusting anyone. It’s a hard habit to break.”
“Not many people have given you reason to trust them,” she murmured. “And I suspect that includes women you’ve known.”
He looked away. “I don’t get involved with women. Asking them to share this life isn’t fair.”
She wanted to protest, to tell him that wasn’t true, but instead she studied him for a moment. “What happened?” she finally asked.
He turned his face to hers, surprised. “What do you mean?”
“It’s obvious something happened.”
He shrugged, but his eyes got hard. “It was a long time ago. And it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“I think it does matter.” Clearly it had left scars.
Marcus hesitated, running his hand through his blond hair. Then he sighed.
“Her name was Heather,” he said, his mouth tightening. “I fancied myself in love with her. But she didn’t want to marry a spy. She came from money and she wanted me to quit my job and find one that was more…socially acceptable, more mainstream.” He looked away. “She made me choose, and I chose my job.”
“Foolish woman,” Jessica murmured.
“Practical,” he corrected. “She knew I wouldn’t be around very much. She knew my job was dangerous. She was just being pragmatic.”
“You’re not practical and pragmatic about a man you love,” she said hotly.
“It really doesn’t matter,” he said again. “It was a long time ago.”
But it did matter. No wonder he was so reluctant to get involved. No wonder he tried so hard to keep her at a distance.
But she wasn’t going to let him brush her aside, she told herself fiercely. She wasn’t going to let him throw away what they had together.
He glanced at her, then stood to look out the window. “It’s going to be light soon,” he said without looking at her. “As soon as the sun is up, I’ll take you back to your parents’ island.”
Chapter 17
Her throat constricted, and her heart lurched in her chest. “I’m not ready to go home.”
“I’m sure your parents are anxious to see you.” He spoke without turning.
“And I want to reassure them. But I’m not ready to say goodbye to you.” She knew that if he left, she would never see him again.
“We’ve said all there is to say, Jessica. I’ve told you all along that you deserve someone far better than me. You deserve someone as young, as fresh and as alive as you. You deserve to spend your life with someone who can give you everything I can’t.”
“And what would that be?”
He spun toward her, and she saw the pain on his face. “You got a taste of my world these last few weeks, and don’t tell me you liked it. My world is betrayal, ugliness and death. I can’t tar you with that brush.”
“Marcus, I’ve only known you for three weeks,” she said, her voice level. “But we met under pretty unusual circumstances, and I thought I had learned a lot about you. I’ve seen you under a lot of stress. I’ve see you in dangerous situations. But I’ve never see you do anything cowardly.”
She leaned over the table and fixed her gaze on his eyes. “If you take me back to my parents’ and run away, you’re a coward.”
His eyes hardened, and she thought for a moment that she had pushed him too far. But then he shook his head and sat back. “That was very good, but I’m not falling for it. After everything you’ve seen the past few weeks, and especially after what happened here tonight, you can’t tell me that you want to be part of this world.” His face looked like it had been carved from granite. “I saw your face tonight. You were horrified.”
“Of course I was horrified,” she said impatiently. “A man was killed here tonight. But if you hadn’t killed him, he would have killed both of us. I understand that, and it has nothing to do with you and me.”
“It has everything to do with you and me,” he said grimly. “That’s what I do for a living.”
“I know that,” she said gently. “And I’m not saying I wouldn’t worry about you. Of course I’ll worry. But I would worry if you were a city cop. I’d worry if you worked in a factory.” She leaned back but didn’t take her gaze off his face, and her mouth curled into a smile. “I’d worry if you dived into the ocean for a living.”
He scowled, but she thought she saw a spark of hope in the back of his eyes. “We’re not talking about what you do for a living.”
“Why not? My work is dangerous, too.”
“That’s different.”
“Different how?”
He scowled again. “It just is. Don’t try to confuse the issue here, Jessica.”
“And what exactly is the issue?” she asked.
“The issue is whether I’m what you need in your life. And the answer is no.”
“You’re wrong, Marcus. You’re exactly what I need. And I’ll prove it to you.”
He crossed his arms. “I’d like to see you try.”
“I’m sure you would.” She stood and took his hand, drawing him to his feet. He stared at her, his eyes uncertain and wary. But the hope she’d seen earlier was more than a spark now. It flickered brightly in the blue depths of his eyes.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed herself against him and pulled his mouth to hers. He stood rigidly for a mom
ent, then he groaned and gathered her close.
The scared girl who had awakened in his bed three weeks earlier had disappeared completely, she realized. In her place was a woman who knew what she wanted and was willing to fight for it. She and Marcus belonged together. They fit together perfectly, in every aspect of their lives. And she was willing to risk herself, risk humiliation, to make it happen.
“I want you, Marcus,” she said. “Will you make love to me?”
He opened his eyes and stared at her. She saw passion and need glittering in his eyes. And something more, something that squeezed her heart and sent joy rocketing through her veins.
“When you touch me, I can’t think of anything else,” he muttered, weaving his hands through her hair. “I need you more than I need my next breath.”
Wordlessly she kissed him again as he traced his hands over her face. His hands were gentle, caressing her with a touch as light as a kiss. It almost felt like he was memorizing her. Then he groaned and deepened the kiss, and she tasted his desperation and his need.
His hands trembled as they raced over her, and a fire leaped to life in her belly. When she began fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom.
She wanted to seduce him, but suddenly their roles were reversed. As his fingers loosened her clothes, his mouth trailed kisses behind them, tasting her everywhere. When she pulled at his shirt, needing to feel his body against hers, he trapped both her hands in one of his and held her still. And he continued to kiss her, his mouth tasting and suckling until she writhed on the bed beneath him.
“I need you, Marcus. I need to touch you.”
He lifted his head, his eyes bright with desire. “You’ll get your turn,” he murmured. “You have to learn a little patience, Jessica.”
“Maybe you can teach me,” she said, pulling her hands free from his and rolling him over. She straddled him, then lightly held his wrists. “It’s my turn now.”
He twined his fingers with hers and smiled. “That’s only fair, I suppose.”
“You suppose right.” Still holding his hands, she bent to kiss him. When she moved lower and swirled her tongue around his nipple, he tensed beneath her. She smiled against his skin, loving the male taste of him, the hardness of his muscles, the way he trembled when she touched him.
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