by Kat Martin
A soft glide, the faint shift of air. How had the intruder gotten inside the house undetected?
Beau flattened himself against the wall, his gun in a double-handed grip, legs braced slightly apart. He stood stock-still, letting the intruder get closer. Clearly the man was heading for the hallway leading to the bedrooms at the other end of the house.
Beau waited. Waited. If this was the assassin, he would be deadly. He sorted through his options, the most dangerous rising to the surface. He needed to take the man alive, needed to find out if it was Vaughn who was paying him, or if it was someone else. But if he made a mistake, it could get him killed, maybe get both of them killed.
His fingers tightened around the pistol grip. He was a good shot, better than good. He brought the gun up into position, aimed it toward the dark shape moving through the shadows. The pool lights lit the room with an eerie blue glow, but it wasn’t enough to see. For an instant, the clouds parted, and a shaft of moonlight slid into the living room. A lean figure stepped into Beau’s line of fire.
“Stop right where you are!”
The man darted and fired. At the same time Beau pulled off two quick rounds, ducking to the right, dodging the dull thump of the silenced bullets hitting the wall where he had just been standing. He heard the sound of running feet, heard the double tap of Cassidy’s pistol, a shot striking the intruder in the knee and sending him crashing to the floor. The man’s big black semiauto landed with a clatter and slid across the polished hardwood floor out of reach.
Beau and Cassidy both stepped out of the shadows, the barrels of their weapons aimed at the intruder, who lay on his back in a spreading pool of blood. Beau had aimed a little high, going for the man’s shoulder and upper chest, determined to keep him alive. Cassidy’s shots had both been aimed low.
Clutching his shoulder, the man groaned as Cassidy flipped a switch and the room lit up.
“Move an inch and I’ll finish you,” Beau warned.
The man didn’t flinch, just lay there clutching his shoulder, his other hand reaching toward his bloody knee.
Cassidy hurried toward the phone in the kitchen. “I’ll call security, have them call 9-1-1 while I check on Frank.”
Beau fixed his attention on the assailant. “Did you kill Marino?” His gun remained steady as he studied the man’s face, covered in black greasepaint beneath a black wool cap.
“I wasn’t paid to . . . kill him.” He took a ragged breath. “Since I don’t work . . . for free, I loaded him up with . . . ketamine. The voice was high and soft, a female voice, Beau realized in shock. “He’ll be out for a while but . . .” The woman sucked in a heavy breath of air. “He’ll live.”
“Who are you?”
Instead of answering, the woman hissed in pain and let her head fall back on the floor. “Look . . . it wasn’t personal. A girl’s got to . . . make a living, okay?”
“No, it isn’t okay. Who do you work for?”
She took a ragged breath but didn’t reply.
“We need an ambulance,” Beau said. Whoever she was, they needed her alive; the FBI needed her alive.
“Ambulance is on its way,” Cassidy said as she walked back into the living room.
Beau looked at her, thought how she could have been killed, and his chest clamped down. He forced himself to focus, push away thoughts of what might have happened.
Security arrived. Worried about the hit, Will Egan had been spending his nights on a cot out in the cabana. He strode in with a group of his men, silver hair sleep-rumpled, semiautomatic pistol pointed at the intruder.
“Frank’s out cold,” Cassidy said. “He’s been drugged. I found a needle on the floor in his room. His breathing’s even and his pulse is strong.”
Beau felt a sweep of relief. He tipped his head toward the assailant. “Our hit man’s a woman. According to her, Frank should be okay.”
“I’ve got this,” Egan said, gun held steady. Several other security guards had their pistols aimed at the intruder, enough men that Beau finally felt comfortable lowering his weapon.
He turned to Cassidy. “We need to call Taggart,” he said.
Cassidy nodded. “I was hoping with everything out in the open, we’d be safe. Apparently, the assassin didn’t get the message.”
“I guess not,” Beau said. Arrests hadn’t yet been made, though the case was rapidly progressing. He slid a glance toward the woman groaning in pain on the floor. “I think she got the message now.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Federal agents swarmed the house, along with EMTs and Dallas PD, but Agent Quinn Taggart went directly to the hospital where the female assassin was admitted to surgery for three bullet wounds: one to the upper chest, one to the shoulder, and one to the knee. A groggy, semiconscious Frank Marino was admitted for overnight observation.
Since the house was a crime scene, Beau and Cassidy packed overnight bags, grabbed their laptops, and Beau drove them to the nearby Highland Dallas hotel, taking a suite there instead of holing up in his private rooms at the Tex/Am office, where he would have to deal with employees in the morning.
The sun was coming up by the time they’d checked in at the front desk and taken the elevator up to the room. The suite was well furnished and spacious. Beau pulled the curtains in the bedroom, blocking out the early dawn sunlight, yawning as he stripped off his clothes and padded over to the bed.
“These all-nighters are getting to be a habit,” Cassidy said, stripping off the T-shirt and jeans she had put on after the shooting.
Beau paused to watch her. Surely he was way too tired to be thinking of sex. Surely. But when Cassidy unhooked her bra, setting her pretty rose-tipped breasts free, when she shook her mane of dark curls back from her face, he felt a shot of lust that went straight to his groin.
No way, he told himself. Both of them needed rest even more than the hot wash of sexual release.
He glanced up to see her watching him the way he’d been watching her, her green eyes drifting over his chest, his abs, lower.
Beau bit back a groan as he started getting hard. “You’re killing me here. You know that, right?”
Cassidy just smiled. “You’re right. We need to get at least a few hours of sleep before we go home.”
He loved that she enjoyed sex as much as he did, was smart and practical, yet in every way was a soft, sexy woman. He loved a lot of things about Cassidy Jones.
The thought made him frown. He slid into bed and pulled her close, but sex was off the table, at least for now.
Instead, as he stared up at the ceiling, he remembered the moment gunfire had erupted, the instant he had spotted Cassidy behind him in the hall and known she was putting her life on the line.
She was an investigator. Even if she weren’t, Cassidy would never be willing to stay safely on the sidelines. She would live her life to the fullest, grab hold by the balls and hang on for the utter challenge of it.
He thought about Sarah, a homebody who had wanted nothing more than to have his babies, take care of him and the family they planned to raise together. Sarah shouldn’t have died, but she had.
The odds were stacked even greater against a woman like Cassidy, a woman out in a tough world, not protected and sheltered at home. She could have been killed tonight, could have died so easily. Dread washed through him, terrible memories of death and loss.
Beau turned on his side, determined to block them, finally succeeded. Eventually exhaustion swept over him and he fell asleep. He didn’t know how long he slept before he started to dream.
Footsteps echoed in the hall, a dark shape moved toward him. Someone was in the house! He turned, saw Cassidy in the passageway behind him, a pistol in her hand. Gunfire erupted. When Cassidy turned, he saw a neat black hole dead center in her forehead. A trickle of blood turned into a river of crimson, washing over her beautiful face.
A strangled cry locked in his throat and his chest clamped down. The image changed and the face no longer belonged to Cassidy. It was S
arah. His beloved Sarah, and she was dead. “Sarah!” he cried out. “Sarah!”
Then the woman was Cassidy again, and the agony of losing her was more painful than he ever could have imagined.
“Beau!” Someone shook his shoulder. “Wake up, Beau, you’re dreaming!”
Jolted awake, he shot upright in bed.
“It’s only a dream, Beau. Just a dream.” Cassidy rested her palm against his cheek. “Everything’s okay.”
Perspiration covered his chest. He raked a hand through his sweat-damp black hair. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s all right. Go back to sleep.”
Beau nodded, still thinking of Cassidy and the dream. His breathing was still a little ragged. He wasn’t sure he could fall asleep, but as soon as his head hit the pillow, his tired body had other ideas and he drifted back into slumber. This time he didn’t dream.
* * *
Cassidy lay awake. Her eyes burned. Her throat felt tight. Her chest ached as if she had been running for miles. She fought not to cry, but tears leaked from beneath her lashes and slipped down her cheeks.
She had no one to blame but herself. She’d known the way Beau felt about Sarah, known he would always be in love with her. Known he had no room left in his heart for her. But hearing him call out Sarah’s name in his sleep had brought it all home.
If she could, she would get dressed and leave the suite, get as far from Beau as she possibly could. She was in love with him. She had known it for some time. He was everything a woman could want in a man. Strong, brave, smart, capable, sexy as hell. He was everything Cassidy had ever wanted.
But he belonged to someone else, and that would never change. She closed her eyes and finally managed to block thoughts of him. She couldn’t leave until this case was completely over and she knew for sure Beau was safe.
If you loved someone you didn’t abandon them, no matter the reason. You stayed. You protected them. You put their life before your own.
Eventually, she fell asleep. But when Beau awoke and began to kiss the side of her neck, cup and caress her breasts, she pretended to be deeply asleep. Eventually, he gave up and padded in to the shower.
Cassidy started crying, turning into the pillow to muffle the sound of her tears. She couldn’t have Beau. It didn’t matter that her heart was broken. She had to accept things the way they were and move on.
When the shower went off, she took a shuddering breath and steeled herself. She thought of Beau, climbed out of bed, and silently began making plans to move back home.
* * *
Beau paced the floor of the living room in the suite, waiting for the call that would tell them the CSIs were done and they could go home. He glanced over at Cassidy, who sat at the walnut dining room table, sipping a cup of coffee, quiet, as she had been all morning.
Beau was worried about her. Clearly she was more upset about last night’s shooting than she had first appeared. A tray loaded with pastries sat mostly untouched. Instead, the first stainless pot of coffee was empty and they were halfway through the second.
Beau poured more of the dark brew into his cup and sat down at the table just as his phone rang.
“Thought you’d appreciate an update.” Quinn Taggart’s deep voice rolled over the line.
“You bet. Let me put you on speaker.” He set the phone on the table so both of them could hear.
“The shooter we arrested last night was a woman named Eliza Spears.”
“A female assassin,” Beau said with a shake of his head. “She confess to the murder attempt?”
“She confessed to a lot of things. The woman’s a professional contract killer known as The Spear. Until last night, we thought The Spear was a man.”
“Who’s she work for?”
“Most of it’s going to go public soon, so here’s where we are. Clifford Jennings hired The Spear. We arrested him this morning. We’re offering him a deal in return for testifying against Malcolm Vaughn. If he accepts, which we’re fairly sure he will, we can arrest Vaughn for conspiracy to commit murder—among other charges.”
Beau’s pulse was thrumming. “You think Vaughn will give you something that will help you nail Jamal Nawabi?”
“Vaughn’s a sleazeball. He looks out for himself—first, last, and always. He’ll make whatever deal it takes to stay out of prison. I’m not sure he can help us with Nawabi, but it doesn’t matter. We’ve got most of the members of the cell he was involved with in custody. Turns out they’re not the loyal bunch you might imagine. A couple of them have already implicated Nawabi. This morning he was arrested for terrorism.”
“That’s good news,” Cassidy said.
“Nawabi’s lawyered up,” Taggart continued. “But he’s considered a flight risk, so he’s cooling his heels in jail and he isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.”
Beau smiled.
“So far, the only one who’s managed to escape the long arm of the law is Luca Reichlin. He’s hightailed it out of the country to parts unknown.”
“Always one snake able to slip off through the grass,” Beau said.
“As far as the two of you are concerned, Reichlin’s no longer a threat. Not with his boss in jail. The Spear is in custody and Vaughn likely will be by the end of the day. Aside from some additional questions that might come up, this is over for the two of you.”
Beau sagged back in his chair. “Thank God.”
“The CSIs have cleared the crime scene at your house. Your man Egan had a cleaning crew brought in this morning. You can go home anytime you want.”
Beau glanced at Cassidy but couldn’t read her face.
“We appreciate everything you’ve done,” Taggart said. “If you ever need me, you know where to find me.” The FBI man ended the call, and they both rose from their chairs.
Cassidy said nothing, just went in and started packing. Beau joined her a few minutes later. He tried to start a conversation in the car on their way back to the house, but Cassidy seemed distant, so he left her alone. He’d been worried about her all morning. He wasn’t sure what was wrong, but something was on her mind.
“Hey,” he said as he parked the Ferrari, got out, and walked into the kitchen. “You okay?”
She just nodded. “I’m fine, just tired.”
“You sure?”
“It’s been a long couple of days. I need a little time to work things out.”
A long couple of days, to say the least. It was early afternoon. He had more than enough to do at the office. Maybe giving Cassidy a little time to herself wasn’t a bad idea.
“Listen, if you’re sure you’re okay, I think I’ll make a quick trip into the office. It’s Saturday. Nobody’ll be around. I can go in, get some stuff done, and come right back. What do you think?”
She smiled, but it didn’t look quite real and she seemed strangely sad. “I think it’s a good idea. I’m a big girl, remember?”
Fresh worry filtered through him. He bent his head and kissed her, wishing he knew what was wrong. “You’re my girl. That’s all that matters. That’s something we need to talk about when I get back. Okay?”
He’d been thinking about it all morning, and one thing he knew, he wasn’t ready to end things with Cassidy. There was no reason they couldn’t continue to see each other. Maybe she’d even want to move in with him. It was a big step, but they could at least discuss it.
“I’ll see you later.” He gave her another soft kiss, but when the kiss ended, Cassidy pulled his head down and kissed him long and deep.
“Bye,” she said softly. There was something in her voice . . . He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he almost changed his mind and stayed. Would have if he didn’t think a little time on her own might be exactly what she needed.
Plus, he hated to abandon Linc completely. A couple of hours of catching up and he could be back at the house. He’d stop and pick up Chinese takeout. They both liked Chinese. Open a good bottle of wine and they’d make it a celebration. After everythin
g they’d been through, they deserved a little fun.
He was smiling as he backed the Ferrari out of the garage and headed down the road. It was crazy, but he and Cassidy had spent so much time together, by the time he reached the office, he was already missing her.
There was a mountain of work on his desk when he arrived. The first thing he did was check his calendar. He sat back in surprise when he discovered it was Valentine’s Day.
Perfect, he thought, smiling again. He’d like nothing better than to buy Cassidy a gift. Something pretty and feminine. A necklace, maybe, with a heart-shaped diamond pendant. No, she might take that the wrong way.
Maybe a bracelet. Something elegant. Emeralds would match her pretty green eyes. Didn’t matter how much it cost. He called a jeweler friend, the owner of the Cartier store in the NorthPark Center, and told the man what he had in mind.
His friend said he had something he was sure Beau would like. It would be ready for him to pick up on his way home.
Beau returned to his schedule, made note of a couple of important client meetings, then planned some necessary staff updates. He managed to concentrate, but he was eager to give Cassidy her special Valentine’s gift. She was special to him in every way, and he wanted her to know it.
Three hours after he’d arrived at the office, he left for home. Instead of Chinese, he’d ordered a gourmet dinner from Piero’s, an Italian restaurant he and Linc favored, and had it delivered to the office.
He loaded the meal into the car, then stopped at the flower shop to pick up a bouquet of pink roses he had ordered and had waiting. Not red, that came too close to the L word, though he’d considered it for a while.
From the flower shop, he drove to Cartier to pick up his gift, a diamond and emerald tennis bracelet. He hoped she would like it.
He was smiling as he rolled up the driveway, clicked the opener, and drove into the garage. Unfortunately, Cassidy’s little Honda wasn’t parked in the Lamborghini’s spot, where it had been moved. He wondered if maybe she’d had the same idea and gone after a gift for him. They thought so much alike it wouldn’t surprise him.
