by Diana Duncan
Flat on her back, plastered close to his side in the confined area, she stared at the lethal tangle of wires and metal bristling from the tunnel’s roof. Greasy dread churned in her stomach. “It will be fast, right? We won’t feel anything?” And they would go side by side. Together.
“I won’t let you down.” Liam turned his head and stared into her eyes. “I won’t let you die.” He brushed a gentle kiss across her brow. “We’re gonna neutralize Whacko.”
He looked up and focused on the bomb. As he broke the connection between them, the jagged blade of loss staggered her.
Drawing strength from his calm tone, she resolutely shoved away disabling terror. She’d seen him in action. She had faith in his abilities. “Good thing you own a Swiss Army knife.”
“Make the beam shine from the left.” His movements slow but sure, he unscrewed plates and cut wires. “Pop gave each of us boys one for our thirteenth birthdays. We always carry them.”
She went silent. He didn’t need distractions. Liam at work was a picture of dangerous masculine beauty. Thickly-lashed eyes intense as lasers, chiseled features sharp with concentration. His wide chest rose and fell evenly, and his measured breaths echoed softly in the enclosed space. His hard biceps brushed her arm with warm, measured strokes.
Her injury had given her appreciation for hands that performed with unfaltering skill. She’d seen a breathtaking display of his eye-hand coordination when he’d flipped the sword. Up close and personal, his long fingers wove a tautly intricate ballet with precise grace. His hands exhibited the same skill and assurance as when they’d danced over her body.
Her pulse fluttered. Who would have guessed that watching him disarm a bomb would be so sensual? Drat, she wanted her camera. Liam in action would create a breath-stealing portrait.
As the minutes ticked past, pain thrummed down her arm, and she fought to hold the light steady. Sweat beaded on Liam’s upper lip, and fear again gripped her. Perhaps things weren’t going as smoothly as he made it look.
Holding his breath, he severed a black wire with his knife. “Take this wire. Keep it immobile and level with the device.”
Anxiety made her go cold. “I-I’m not sure I can. Not and support the light at the same time.”
“You have to.” Or else. He didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t need to. His “no options” tone was enough. “Reach up and take it from me. Careful not to wiggle it.”
“But…my fingers don’t…” Either she helped him, or the bomb would explode. Her heart stopped. How could she possibly hold the wire still when her hand wouldn’t cooperate? When her entire arm shook from the deadly combination of distress and weakness.
She would fail him. They would die. Hundreds of innocent people would die. And it would be her fault.
“You’re here with me for a reason.” Liam’s low voice cut through panic, blanketed her with quiet assurance. “You can do this. I have complete faith in you.”
Kate blinked back tears. Well, heck. She squashed the doubt demons. She couldn’t give up and let the stalker win. Not without giving her all. In slow motion, she accepted the wire.
Liam briefly covered her ice-cold hand with his big, warm one, offering comfort and support. “That’s it. Keep it steady.” He quickly sliced wires. “Doing great, honey.”
She struggled to take in air. Why was he suddenly moving so fast? What hadn’t he told her?
“Interesting. Stalker Boy rigged this device differently.” He cut a small strip of duct tape and efficiently taped off the silver end of a red wire. “That’s unusual.”
He was distracting her so she wouldn’t be so scared. Her throat was too dry to swallow. “Oh?” was the most intelligent reply she could croak.
“A firebug normally sticks to a single design. They’re organized, and above average in intelligence. In their warped minds, they’re artists, who ‘sign’ their work by using specific materials and schematics. Once we figure it out, we can identify who built each individual bomb by the ‘signature.’”
She forced her focus to the conversation. The information could be important. “Why didn’t he put it directly in the boiler room? Wouldn’t that make a hotter, more deadly explosion?”
“It would, yes. I wondered about that myself. Along with why he planted the first device under your convertible’s seat. He’d have gotten a helluva lot more bang for his buck if he’d armed the engine. Not to mention a guaranteed detonation when the ignition fired.” His hands froze on the bomb. “Hellfire!”
“What happened?” She cringed. “Are we going to…?”
“No!” He swore. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He took the black wire from her. Her aching arm flopped to her side, and she sighed. He twisted the black wire to a white one and taped them. “It just hit me why he put the bombs where he did. He must have to keep his explosive matter cool. It probably grows as unstable as its maker at higher temperatures.”
“Lovely. In other words, if the bombs get too hot, they might go off by themselves, even without a detonator?”
“Right.” He eased out what looked like a slice of pale green plastic. “Fascinating chemical composition.” He slowly set it beside him. “Almost there.” He cut and taped more wires, then put down his knife. He flexed his fingers and exhaled. “Clear.”
“Wow.” Relief made her giddy. “Impressive.”
He shrugged. “All in a day’s work.”
“You just saved half of Las Vegas. What do you do on a second date?”
“This is our second date.” He turned his head and his sinful grin flashed. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our first?”
She fumbled with the book light and avoided his gaze. “I wish you would. It was my most humiliating experience…ever.”
“Yeah, we need to discuss that.” He sat up, urged her up beside him. “It’s been a long time coming, Kate.”
Panic surged back full throttle. “I don’t think—”
He shoved his knife into his right front pants pocket. “Unfortunately, there are more incendiary devices to disarm before we can deal with our personal fallout.”
It was stupid to feel relief. To prefer facing a bomb instead of a heart-to-heart with him. Call her crazy, but she’d almost rather die than expose her ugly secrets and deepest hurts. At all costs, she tried never to let anyone down. And she refused to disappoint Liam. Once he knew the extent of her disability, he’d never again look at her the same way.
Personal demons aside, there was her fear of Murphy. She’d never trust the huge dog.
Involvement with the daring cop and his fierce partner was too dangerous—to her body and heart. She wasn’t a risk taker. Not anymore. She’d sustained all the damage she could bear.
He stood and tugged her to her feet. “We have to get to Treasure Island.” He flicked a glance at his watch. “Less than two hours left. One bomb neutralized, two to go.”
Chapter 11
10:00 p.m.
They left their street clothes in the trunk of the car parked on the strip. Kate shook off melancholy. No time to navel gaze. She’d figure out how to avoid the talk with Liam later. If there was a later.
Followed by Murphy, they dashed across the pedestrian overpass between the Venetian and Treasure Island. Night shrouded the desert, and the Strip’s rainbow-hued lights sliced a glowing corridor through the darkness.
The pirate show was already underway. Thanks to their borrowed costumes, a hotel employee readily rattled off directions to the cast entrance. They had no trouble slipping aboard the pirate ship floating atop the two and a half million gallons of water that comprised Buccaneer Bay. On the opposite side, the seventy-five-foot long Royal Navy British frigate rode the gentle swells.
Aboard the ship, a crewmember frowned at Kate. “When did production cast a girl?” He did a double take. “And a dog?”
Liam tossed off a shrug. “Equal opportunity employment.”
The captain shouted, and the actor ran to the foredeck. Liam located a hatc
h, and she followed him down a ladder…not easy in the poofy dress. Murphy, equally hampered by his lack of opposable thumbs, also required Liam’s assistance.
In the vast compartment, her commandeered book light was a godsend. Fascinated, she watched Liam and Murphy’s seamless teamwork. The two communicated without effort, sharing one mind, one heart as they searched for a bomb. They didn’t find one.
She peered out a porthole at the spotlights reflected off the bay. “Maybe he put it outside, under the waterline?”
“It’s probably aboard the British frigate…the ship that sinks. If it blows, the audience will assume it’s part of the show. Employees will think the pyrotechnics went wonky.” Liam rubbed his stubbled chin, the epitome of a dark, sexy buccaneer. “Abby Normal is playing his evil head games. We’ll nab the envelope first, then find a way over to the other ship.”
Up top, amidst throaty male shouts and earsplitting explosions, the pirate ship commenced firing on the frigate. The boards beneath her feet trembled and the ship rocked. Kate grabbed Liam’s arm. The staged battle felt disconcertingly real.
Liam slid one arm around her waist and his other hand shaded his eyes against the erupting flares as he looked upward. A small plastic bag dangled below the Jolly Roger, flapping at the top of the aft mast. “There’s our target.”
She stared at the trio of crow’s nests towering thirty feet overhead, and her throat constricted. “That’s awfully high.”
“No taller than the oak in our backyard where my brothers and I built a tree fort when we were kids.” He stepped back and saluted her with his sword. “A stroll in the park.”
“I can’t imagine raising four daredevil boys who grew up to be SWAT cops. Your poor mother.” She shuddered. “Not enough antacid in the known universe.”
“Our family motto is, ‘Fortune Favors the Brave.’” He laughed. “Mom hauled timber and nails up the tree and helped us hammer Castle O’Rourke together.”
Her mother would have hyperventilated at the thought. Kate would love to meet Liam’s mom. Maureen O’Rourke had attitude, strength and character. Kate strove to be that kind of woman. Would her fears thwart her? She studied Liam’s twinkling eyes and confident grin. He’d followed his mom’s example. While Kate had given up expecting too much, he lived life to the fullest.
He gestured upward. “If anyone approaches, run interference while I climb to the crow’s nest and retrieve the note.”
Kate glanced at the performers, rapidly loading cannons. Orange and red flashes scorched the black velvet sky, and white smoke boiled over the bay. She ignored the spear of uncertainty. She had the easy part. He had to climb the mast.
“Arr. Avast, me hearties!” a rough male baritone bellowed behind them. “Scurvy landlubbers!”
They whirled, and Kate gasped. Four pirates challenged them. Tall and beefy, built like Schwarzenegger before he got politics. The first man’s pate was shaved bald. The second had long stringy hair, the third a bushy red beard, and number four sported a greasy blond mullet. Redbeard and Longhair wore crimson do-rags. All were outfitted in ratty leather pants and open vests that revealed tattoos and interesting piercings on sweaty bare chests. The motley crew was either a victim of bad pirate central casting, or a biker gang gone very wrong.
Baldie swung the thick chain dangling from his right hand. “You’d be here to hijack me matey’s treasure.”
Kate sidled closer to Liam. “Who’s your matey?”
“Someone who pays cash up front and doesn’t ask barmy questions.” Staying scarily in character, Baldie ogled her cleavage and smiled lewdly. “Nice ballast, wench.”
She swallowed hard. The stalker had hired them. Their stroll in the park had just turned into a midnight hike through Central Park.
Both Liam and Murphy rumbled out low, threatening growls. Suddenly grateful for the dog, she nudged Liam. “Now would be a very good time to draw your gun,” she whispered.
His lips quirked. “Bloodthirsty wench,” he muttered beneath the kaboom of the cannons. “We’re surrounded by innocent bystanders. Bullets have a nasty habit of ricocheting.”
She flicked a wary glance at the audience ringing the bay. She’d been so intent on the mission, she’d forgotten them. Luckily, Liam hadn’t. Yikes! What now? “How about the sword?”
“I was theater trained to toss it around on stage,” he muttered. “Which looks impressive as hell. But if you want a man who can actually fight with the damned thing, call Aidan.”
He eyed the scruffy band and arched a mocking brow. “Ahoy, dudes. Axl Rose phoned. He wants his wardrobe back.”
She shuffled on the swaying deck. “We need a man who can go toe-to-toe in a brawl, not someone who has fast hands and faster quips. Maybe I’m with the wrong O’Rourke brother?”
He chuckled, but didn’t move his gaze off the pirates. “Watch and learn.”
Without warning, Mullet swung a meaty fist. Liam dodged, but not quite quickly enough, and the punch grazed his jaw. Kate winced at the impact.
Liam staggered. Murphy’s muscles bunched, and he snarled.
And then everything hurtled to hell in a handcart.
Mullet pulled a switchblade. Vibrating with fury, Murphy bared his fangs and growled. Liam shook his head. “Now you’ve royally pissed off my partner.” He gestured. “Murphy, bite.”
The canine sprang and clamped powerful jaws on the man’s bare right arm. Mullet screamed and stumbled backward. Murphy hung on and shook him like a rag doll. The weapon dropped from the man’s torn hand, and blood spattered the boards underfoot.
Sick and paralyzed by the horrifying déjà vu nightmare, Kate stared at the bloody carnage.
“Kate!” Liam yelled from behind her. “Down!”
His shout snapped her to awareness. She jerked her gaze up to see Baldie advancing, whirling the chain. She dropped to the deck, and Liam leaped over her. He stepped into the assault and whipped up his sword. The chain wrapped around the blade, and Liam tossed the sword and tangled chain into the drink.
Baldie’s face mottled red and he shouted an obscenity. Fists flying, he charged Liam. Liam blocked the punches, and threw a right cross that slammed into the big man’s chin. The spectators, thinking it was part of the show, cheered loudly.
Brandishing a long, curved blade, Longhair rushed Liam. They were ganging up on him! As she scrambled to her feet, Redbeard grabbed her arm. Laughing, he crushed her to his chest and groped her butt. “I want in on the fun and games.”
“Great. How about kickball?” She rammed her knee upward. Groaning, he crumpled. Kate’s gaze spun over the deck. She needed a weapon! She snatched up a folded sail and a heavy metal hook attached to a rope.
She ran up behind Longhair, who slashed at Liam with the machete. Liam swerved as Baldie shoved him forward. The blade sliced Liam’s side, and a line of scarlet blossomed on his shirt. She threw the sail over Longhair’s head, blinding him. Left-handed, she swung the rope and smacked his spine with the hook. He dropped to his knees, and she used the hook to clobber him in the back of the head. He pitched forward and lay still.
Liam chuckled and thrust a thumbs-up. “Way to go, Miz Scarlett!” His eyes sparkled like he was having the time of his life as he danced away from another attack by Baldie.
She panted for breath in the restricting bodice and returned his thumbs-up. Gad, if she was going to hang out with a SWAT cop, she would have to work out more.
Baldie charged Liam, and he pivoted, putting his back to the rail. At the last moment, Liam crouched and grabbed the big man around the waist. Using Baldie’s momentum against him, Liam surged to his feet and flipped him overboard. An Olympic-worthy triple gainer was followed by a geyser that splashed Kate. Raucous encouragement erupted from the audience.
With Longhair out for the count, Baldie in the bay, Redbeard cradling his family jewels and Murphy standing on a whimpering Mullet’s chest, all four attackers were subdued.
The intense war between the two ships was reaching a cre
scendo. Kate barely noticed the thundering battle as she watched her sexy pirate shinny up the mast to retrieve the bagged note. Wow! Those pants were amazing. The man was amazing.
Was there anything he couldn’t do?
She was so distracted by Liam’s graceful athleticism, only a gasp from the audience warned her. Heart in her throat, she whirled. Redbeard was on his feet. Fury distorted his features as he grabbed Longhair’s fallen machete and advanced on her. His pronounced limp didn’t make him appear any less menacing. “Knee me, will ya? I’ll carve my initials into your face, bitch.”
She retreated, but bumped into the rail. An anxious glance over her shoulder showed Baldie treading water. She stared at the madman lurching toward her. She wouldn’t make it past him.
Kate glanced at Baldie again, and he leered. Nowhere to go. She had to jump. Burdened by the gown and petticoats, she didn’t stand a chance of outswimming him. At least he was unarmed. She looked at Redbeard. His eyes smoldered, and the knife gleamed red from the reflected firefight.
She gulped, swung a leg over and straddled the rail. Mouthing a fast, silent prayer, she forced her clamped fingers to let go. Forced her stiff body to lean sideways and fall.
She never hit the water.
Instead, she was swooped up midtumble. Speechless, she stared at Liam, who’d swung from the mast by a long rope and scooped her out of midair. He held her securely in one iron-muscled arm as they sped high across the bay in a breathless arc. Flame-bright fireworks sizzled around them. Wind whipped through her hair, and the stars blurred.
Her stomach dropped from the dizzying ride. Liam whooped, and then they landed neatly on the British frigate’s deck.
The bystanders roared approval drowned out the booming artillery. Liam grinned. “Talk about a head rush.” He spun and executed a sweeping bow at the crowd.
Her mouth opened and closed three times before a croak emerged. “Holy crow!”
He cocked a glossy brow. “Wrong brother my ass.”
