by Kylie Brant
The four of them had no sooner gotten in the other room than Declan surveyed them grimly. “Lexie Walker’s family could never have a claim on Royce, even if they knew of his existence. But bin Osman is a loose end.”
Eve crossed to one of the beds, sat on the corner. “Too many people here know about Malsovic’s claims of Royce’s parentage. Although neither Pascal nor Megat seemed eager to share the information with bin Osman.”
“Have to wonder if their relationship with bin Osman’s daughters means they don’t want a male heir showing up,” Kell suggested. He leaned a shoulder against the wall beside the door.
“We can’t count on that.” Declan’s expression was sober. “It’s too much risk for Royce.”
“If you’ve got a plan,” Finn put in, “now is the time to share it.”
“Declan got access to Pascal’s computer through some Trojan horse thing,” Eve said, never taking her eyes off the man. He had something up his sleeve, she could tell, and it had to have something to do with Pascal’s files and communications they’d gone through.
“Our best bet is to thoroughly discredit the men who were contacted by Malsovic and Shuang regarding Royce.” Declan moved to the laptop on the desk. Sat down in front of it. “If we destroy their credibility with bin Osman, he’ll never believe anything they say.”
“So you’re going to send the man damning communication from Pascal’s computer?”
Declan through Finn a wicked grin. “He’s going to get a passel of email copies, showing just how closely aligned Megat and Pascal are with the bin Osman daughters. And maybe a couple of emails I add that disparage bin Osman’s leadership ability. That should be enough to have the man cutting ties with both of them. And the beauty of it is that all of the communication will appear to be coming from Ahmed Pascal’s computer.”
“What are you waiting for?” Kell drawled.
He was fast. Eve had known that, from the other occasions when Declan had worked his magic on the computer. She helped when it came time to composing the phony messages in Malay, but the task was finished in less than an hour. When he finally leaned back in his chair, Kell pushed away from the wall.
“The heroics of the day have me famished. Let’s get something to eat.”
“Maybe you could go downstairs, get something from the dining room.” Declan suggested.
“Why?” Kell frowned. “They’ve got room service. We’ll just order something.”
“I wouldn’t mind a drink with my meal.” Carstens crossed the room, opened the door and steered the other man through it. “Sure you two don’t want anything?”
Eve should have been embarrassed by the speed with which Declan was getting rid of the other two. Would have been, if she didn’t have an overwhelming desire to be alone with him. Finally. “Bring me something back,” she called over her shoulder. Then Declan had the door shut behind them. Strode to where she was sitting and tugged her to her feet, into his arms.
His kiss was explosive, a flood of desperation too long pent up without release. Eve recognized the response. Returned it. Her fingers raked through his hair as her mouth twisted against his, pouring everything too long suppressed into the contact. It had steadied her during the long hours of the debriefing, when she’d needed to keep a tight rein on her emotions. But the desire to feel Declan against her again had simmered inside her, gathering heat and strength until she’d felt as though she’d combust from it.
Her fingers danced up his shirt, releasing buttons until she could slip a hand inside and rest it against his warm skin. Nipping at his bottom lip, she took a long shuddering breath and could feel something inside her calm at the strong steady thud of his heart beneath her palm. His hand skated under the back of her tee and her bones went to water.
A haunting thought had the breath shuddering out of her, and she tore her mouth from his. A little light-headed. More than a bit weak. The possibilities she’d refused to let herself linger on when Malsovic had her remained at the hem of her mind like determined ghosts. But somehow being in Declan’s arms took a step toward banishing them. She could have lost him. So easily. They could have lost each other.
His hand stroked up and down her spine in long velvet glides that had the remaining strength streaming out of her. “You gave me some bad moments for a while there, Evie.”
“There were one or two,” she admitted. Because they were there, she slipped the rest of the buttons on his shirt out of the buttonholes so she could rest her cheek against his chest. Flesh to flesh. The contact was soothing. “I was a big fan of the hat,” she said suddenly, as she brushed her fingers along his ribs. “Reminded me of Indiana Jones.”
“First Dirty Harry and now Indiana Jones.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “I think you have a thing for iconic action heroes.”
“I appear to have a thing for heroes. Or one in particular.” Slipping her arms around his waist, she leaned a bit away so she could look up at him. “And I have been remiss for not thanking you for the rescue you mounted. I’m bloodthirsty enough to have relished seeing my buyer writhing on the floor of the elevator in pain. And glad you were able to have a few minutes with Malsovic before the authorities swooped in.”
“You and me both.” There was a thread of dark regret in his voice that he hadn’t been able to prevent her being taken in the first place. “That intention actually got me through some rough patches…thinking of what I’d do to him when I had the chance. Guess we’ll have to be satisfied thinking about him spending the rest of his miserable life rotting in a Malaysian cell as the various countries fight for the right to try him.”
She tipped her head to look at him. The whiskers on his jaw gave him a slightly dangerous look. Certainly he’d been dangerous to her equilibrium ever since she’d known him.
“We’ll be home in a day or two.” His gray gaze was focused on hers, the look in them intent. “This part will be over. But you and me…we’re not. I’ve never been in love.” His hand rose to cup her cheek. “At least not the death do us part kind. But that’s how it is for me, Evie. The whole time you were missing…it was like someone carved a hollow through my chest. I don’t want to think about how close I came to losing you through circumstances I couldn’t control. I’m not about to risk it now. I love you.” There was something in his eyes that might have been surprise. “Wasn’t looking for it. But you sort of sneak up on a person. And damned if I’m going to let go of this—or you—once we get back in the States.”
Her heart stuttered hard once, before doing a slow easy spin. “I come from practical stock. I know that love grows over time.” Shared interests. Common goals. That’s how it had been for her parents. Her siblings. But then, she’d never had all that much in common with her family. “It’s not supposed to happen like a lightning bolt is it? Because that’s what it feels like with you. You pack a helluva punch, Declan. I’ve loved you since the first time you apologized, for real. The first time you kissed me.” Her smile went a bit misty at the memory. The man saw too much, despite the smokescreen she’d put up to prevent exactly that.
“It’ll be a different sort of Christmas this year. For both of us.” He trailed a finger down her cheek. “I’ll have to teach you the intricacies of gift buying without links involved.” His smile was indulgent. Then it faded, as he sobered. “You’ll be the first woman I’ve ever introduced to my family. I think that alone will have Gran considering you the best gift I’ve ever given her. And then there’s New Year’s Eve to consider.” His eyes glinted. “I already know what you’re going to wear.”
Yesterday she’d feared she’d never see this man again. And now…now she was in his arms, planning a future she’d never dared contemplate. And that would be the real blessing of the season. “You’re just full of plans,” she teased.
“As a matter of fact…” His head lowered and this time when their lips touched it was less urgent and more of
a promise. After a long moment he said, “Since we’ve been pretending to be married for over a week already, I’m thinking we should just…” The panic she felt then must have shown in her expression. Being a wise man, he just smiled. “I’m Scottish. We’re a pretty romantic lot. Irresistible, really.”
The flare of panic had ebbed, to be replaced with amusement. “Is that so?”
“We’ll take it slow,” he decided. “But I feel the need to warn you that my powers of persuasion are legendary.”
She didn’t doubt it. Just as she didn’t doubt this utter certainty inside of what she wanted. Her lips brushing his, she murmured, “I look forward to being persuaded.”
Look for book 8 of The Mindhunters when
What the Dead Know
releases December 1, 2015.
OTHER TITLES FROM KYLIE BRANT
THE MINDHUNTERS
Waking Nightmare (Ryne and Abbie’s story)
Waking Evil (Devlin and Ramsey’s story)
Waking the Dead (Zach and Caitlin’s story)
Deadly Intent (Kellan and Macy’s story)
Deadly Dreams (Nate and Risa’s story)
Deadly Sins (Adam and Jaid’s story)
CIRCLE OF EVIL
Chasing Evil
Touching Evil
Facing Evil
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