She curled her fingers and punched him again square in that pompous, upturned nose before Adam could restrain her. Hubbard deserved so much more! Her inner devil had yet to relinquish hold, and she felt powerful. I am the only Reagan heir. I am Reagan Industries, Goddamnit. No one can touch me. They wouldn’t dare.
She sucked in a deep breath that should’ve cleansed the monster from her heart. It didn’t. “Let’s get out of here,” she snapped at Adam.
Instead of complying and following at her heels like the lap dog he wasn’t, Adam pulled her out of her intended path and pressed her gently against his chest. “Shannon, look at me.”
The tone in his voice caught her unprepared. “What’s wrong?” she asked, suddenly seeing him for the first time. His eyes were filled with blood where the white osclera should’ve been. The deep ocean blue was more black than blue. A large black bruise with a nasty cut colored his left cheekbone. Another cut bled over his right eye, dripping a thin line of red along his orbital bone. His clothes were drenched, still dripping on the marble floor. The poor man had nearly drowned. He was hurt. He needed help. She turned to order a medic to his side.
“Shannon,” Adam whispered hoarsely. “Do you know what you’ve done?”
“Of course I know what I’ve done. You’re both alive, aren’t you?” she bit out. It seemed so obvious. I’m not apologizing. Paul Reagan’s wrong. I’m right, and because of it, he’s dead. You’re alive. Problem solved.
“You’re hurt.” Adam fingered her arm tenderly.
Glancing down, she finally noticed the bright red stain soaking through Judy’s flannel shirtsleeve. Huh. She’d been grazed. Paul Reagan did that. He had meant to kill her. Funny. She hadn’t felt it until then, but it stung. “I guess he got me.”
Piercing blues stabbed her with the saddest remorse. Had she changed so much Adam no longer loved her? Was she looking at the first step away and goodbye? Irritation rankled at the back of her neck. She didn’t have time for this. She had a business to run. What the hell’s wrong with you, Adam?
“Look at me, Shannon baby. Talk to me. Do you know what just went down? Do you really understand?” He pulled her close until her breasts flattened against his chest, still looking deeply into her eyes, for what, she didn’t know.
“Of course I understand,” she snapped, not sure what the hell he was talking about. “I don’t need you to—”
A gurney rolled by, pushed by a somber member of the FBI forensic team now on sight. It passed beneath the elegant chandelier hung high above the Reagan family crest to the side of the entry doors. Until a moment ago, it had been her family crest.
Shannon blinked. Who is in that bag? Was it Brit? Had he died, too? Or was it Paul?
Half of her cared. Half did not. But with every squeak, awareness seeped through the adrenaline. The chaos in her soul stilled and her rage melted into shadow. She blinked again, unable to take her eyes from the body bag. It concealed a tall man. Two pointed bumps beneath the black vinyl betrayed where two feet laid.
Death rolled out the grand doors of Reagan Manor, leering, reminding, and stabbing a long pointed finger back at her.
Denial fled, and along with it, her magnificent power. Her knees buckled. If not for Adam’s strong arms, she would’ve stumbled. Still she watched, riveted to the passing of the evil she’d wrought within the house where a lonely, little girl had once lived with her nanny. She whispered the truth at last. “I killed him.”
Another gurney came forth from the dark hallway. It had eight shiny wheels with black rubber tires, and it squeaked a rhythmic ‘screech, squeak, screech’ as it rolled along. Not loud. Just soft sounds, like the little girl crying within her now. The men who pulled and pushed it along the grand marble entry didn’t smile. No one did.
“I killed my father,” she whined, “the man I thought was my dad. What have I done?”
Adam pulled her tight, his hand strong at the back of her head as remorse hit fast and hard. His strength anchored her, smothering her to that broad chest that could pass for body armor all by itself. If only she could crawl inside of him to save herself now. Somewhere on his body he still harbored the evil thing she had used to take a life. How could he love her now that he knew? I’m a murderer.
“It will cut you low the first time,” he muttered into her hair, “but always remember. He gave you no choice. You did what you had to do.”
She tipped her face up to his, needing desperately to explain, but needing absolution more. “And he was killing you.”
Loving eyes gazed down at her. “He tried,” Adam said quietly.
Shannon reached for Alex, needing his forgiveness, too. “I love you,” she stated. There was no other way to put it. He might as well know. She loved all her heroes. Did they still love her?
“I know.” He lifted her knuckles to his lips and kissed them, his eyes full of the same sadness as Adam’s. “Real families are like that. We hang with you when no one else will.”
“I had to do it,” she explained again, a hint of hysteria climbing up the back of her throat. “He was killing you. I… I had no choice.”
Alex shot Adam a curt, dark glance. “Get her the hell out of here.”
He complied instantly, ushering her swiftly through the front doors and out into the chilly evening. The need to defend her actions persisted.
“I had to do it,” she told him again, hating the edge to her voice, that falling-off point she might never be able to return from. She’d come so close to losing herself until this very morning when Adam had turned her life around. Could he do it again? Better question, could she?
He guided her to Connor’s SUV. The door was no more than shut when the awful thing she’d done exploded in her mind. Long vicious tentacles of horror squeezed the false pride out of her. “I had to do it,” she cried. Hysteria crept closer.
“Look at me,” Adam commanded, his palms to the sides of her head, pulling her into his view.
The blackest panic filled the vehicle. She couldn’t meet his gaze. Not yet. “I had to do it,” she repeated, unable to stop the relentless chant in her head.
“Shannon, damn it. Look at me.”
She did, afraid of the condemnation she’d see in those gorgeous eyes that used to light up with so much love. Before tonight. Before she’d taken a life. Her internal thesaurus provided the ugly word and the shame of—patricide.
“Let it go. You did what you did to save me,” Adam said softly. “Get it straight in your head right damned now. Know it in your gut. You aren’t a murderer, and you aren’t a sinner. You put down the dog who most likely killed your mother.”
She nodded vigorously as the words tumbled out. “He did. He said he did. He drowned her, and he would’ve killed you and Alex.”
“And you,” he added softly. “Paul Reagan would’ve killed you if you hadn’t got him first.”
“It was Brit’s twin brother on the island who you killed. It was Bart. You killed Bart, not Brit.”
“And I’d do it again,” he hissed.
“What... what happened to Brit?”
“Don’t worry about him, he’s—”
“You did it, didn’t you? You killed him? He... they… they killed their own grandfather.”
Adam accepted that bit of unsubstantiated information, too. A single tear glinted at the corner of his eye. “What else, Shannon baby? What else do you know now?”
“He never loved me.” She choked. “I was blind. Brit was Bart and Brit. They were twins and they... they tricked me. Paul Reagan tricked me. He... he never loved me and he killed my mother. All these years... I wish I’d had the chance to meet her. Just once. I don’t want to live here, Adam. I don’t want the manor, and I don’t want any part of Reagan Industries. I don’t want to be his heir!” She spat the venom out of her mouth and out of her soul.
“Do you know how much I love you?” Adam ran a warm palm down the side of her face. “Do you have any idea how thankful I am for the tough choices you made ton
ight?” The single tear fell free from his eye, rolling down her arm like a crystal diamond before it remembered it was only water and lost its shape.
“I killed him,” she said simply, her angst diminished and her strength gone. “I did it because he would’ve killed us.”
“That’s right.” Adam rubbed a gentle circle over her cheekbone with his thumb. “He was the evil one. Never you.”
Shannon took a deep, cleansing breath. Black fog faded as the weight of too much deceit and too many lies lifted from her soul. “I’m going to marry you,” she reminded Adam quietly.
He breathed his answer into her hair. “You’d better believe it.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The minute they’d hit the Mortimer’s, Shannon got to see that mother bear side of Judy Mortimer in action. “Damn you, Harley,” she cussed when she met them on the front porch, her green eyes throwing sparks. “Get her inside. You guys were supposed to keep her safe. You know where to take her, Adam.”
“I did keep her safe,” Harley muttered. “She’s here, isn’t she?”
Adam knew better than to argue. A registered nurse by profession, Judy tended to take over when injuries struck too close to home. Because of the nature of their business, she’d patched up a few tough guys and gals over the years. The only downside was they usually got an earful while she did it. He steered Shannon into the kids-off-limits room aside the kitchen, otherwise known as Judy’s office.
“I told you to take her to the emergency room,” she snapped at her husband even as she opened drawers and set up a sterile work area. She nodded at the wooden stool next to the counter. “Shannon, take a seat. Adam, help her out of that bloody shirt and into the clean scrub hanging behind the door. Wash your hands, Harley. A gunshot wound should be reported. You know better than this. You too, Adam. Your eyes are bloodshot. You’re soaking wet. What happened to you? Where’s Alex?”
Adam filled in the details, how Alex, Connor and Rory were still talking with the FBI and police, but specially the part where Harley busted in Reagan’s basement door and saved his life. All Harley got for being the hero of the night was an eye roll. In between Judy’s magnificently sharp-tongued opinion of his faith in her medical skills, they were treated to more headshakes and icy glares, but best of all? She made Shannon smile the way she bossed the men.
“Honestly. These guys think they’re invincible,” Judy muttered as she flushed the bullet crease, making Shannon flinch. “Thank God this is a superficial wound. I need a size five suture, Harley. Steri wound closure strips, too. Four of them. Adam, don’t just stand there. Get out of those wet clothes before you get sick.”
“I will when we’re done here,” he said evenly. He wasn’t about to leave Shannon’s side, not even or an angry mother bear.
“I mean it,” Judy grumbled. “You’re dripping on my floor.”
“And I’m not going anywhere. I’ll mop later.”
Judy huffed, but relented. Adam hovered as close as he dared without getting in the way. Harley assisted while Judy stitched Shannon’s upper arm, her sharp eyes not missing a beat. “You guys are going to be the death of me yet. Damn you both, you could have lost her. Am I hurting you, honey?”
“No, but Harley did save Adam, Judy, and then Adam saved me,” Shannon said quietly. “We’d all be dead if it wasn’t for your husband. Thank you Harley. I owe you my life.”
Damned if he didn’t turn shy and shrug it off with a cute blush “It was my pleasure, darlin’.”
Judy shook her head. “You should’ve stayed here and let the guys take care of that bastard. That’s what they do.”
“No, Judy.” Shannon earned a spiked brow for that one. “He killed my mother. He had to pay.”
“I know that, honey. It’s just too bad you’re the one who had to do it.” Judy glared up at Adam. “You’d better take good care of this girl.”
He winked at Shannon, so damned proud of her. “Only for the rest of my life.”
The second round of tacos was just as good as the first, but the pretty lady at Adam’s side was a million times better. Man, even with taco breath, Shannon tasted good. He’d sampled her lips enough since they’d gotten back to the Mortimers’. He would know.
She hadn’t gone far from his side after Judy doctored her, only to shower and change clothes while he did the same. For now, Adam and Shannon occupied one of the many leather loveseats in the great room, crowded together like two teenagers who couldn’t bear to be apart. Judy was right. He’d almost lost Shannon and he knew it.
Shannon had more family than she’d realized. God bless him, Raul Ortega showed up with his wife, Margareta, and God bless her, too. She brought enough flan to feed a small army. Little man Squeaks was happily lost somewhere in the crowd, and Shannon seemed okay with it. If Judy, Ember, or Izza didn’t have him tucked away, one of the guys or their wives did. Adam had even seen Alex and his wife, Kelsey, along with their daughter, Lexie Rose, cozied up in the kitchen with the little tyke.
Adam was proud of Shannon. She wasn’t the innocent little ball of fluff he’d once thought, and tonight proved it. This kitten snuggled under his arm with her hand on his chest had some deadly claws, sheathed for the moment. What she’d faced in the Reagan study was damned tough, but once again, she’d met the challenge head-on.
So what if she got a little too pumped with adrenaline and the self-righteousness that often followed a fiercely fought battle. Most guys did—until they had time to think about what went down in combat. That’s where Adam came in. He had a plan to keep her from thinking too hard. He just needed everyone to go home.
Of all things, CIA Agent Atchison had the nerve to show up like he’d been invited. Judy pre-empted a TEAM versus CIA confrontation by inviting him in, then stuck a platter of delicious food under his nose like he deserved it. Adam wasn’t sure if she knew that Atchison had labeled Shannon a traitor months earlier, but she had a funny way of showing her TEAM spirit by asking the wolf in.
The one-big-family mood in the great room cooled. Harley made it worse when he handed Atchison a frosty root beer, then offered up a round of introductions instead of tossing him out on his ear.
Holding his tongue was no longer an option. “You were late,” Adam growled when the introductions got around to him.
“No, I wasn’t. I was there all along,” he answered with his mouth full of taco.
“What? Watching? Like you did in South Dakota?”
“We’re always watching.” Atchison’s brow arched when he spied Shannon. “Miss Reagan, I’d like to talk to you about your father’s residence and business when you’re up to it. I’m sorry about what happened with your father.” He almost sounded contrite.
“I’m not,” she declared boldly. She shifted, her body aligned with Adam’s but her shoulders squared. “What do you want to know? Ask.”
“Not now,” Atchison said gently. “Any day next week will be soon enough. Mr. Stewart already turned over the taped conversation. I think we’ve got what we need for the moment. Call my office when you’re ready to discuss your way forward.”
“My way forward? You mean if I intend to continue the drone research? Is that what you’re asking?” She stiffened, and Adam smoothed his hand down her bicep, letting her know he was there.
Atchison nodded, his eyes narrowed and steady on Shannon. “That among other things.”
“So, Shannon darlin’,” Harley drawled from his comfy chair near the fireplace. “You’re now one of the richest women on the eastern seaboard, and I for one am damned glad to know ya. I’ve got an idea for a canine drone I’d like to talk to you about. It fetches beer and it even barks.”
Leave it to Harley to add a touch of levity to what had become a serious discussion.
“Kin I have a drone, Mama?” Little Alex asked from his man-cave under the coffee table.
“No, son. Get ready for bed,” Harley teased.
“Aww, Daddy.”
“I’m not keeping Reagan Indust
ries or the manor,” Shannon declared stiffly, her body tensed. “I’m selling it all. Maybe Jed McCormack’s engineers can take over the drone project. Maybe Jed can do something good and decent with the company for a change. He’s got the clout.”
The more she talked, the more she trembled, and the more Adam tightened his grip on her shoulders. Not once since she’d left the manor had she made the mistake of calling Paul Reagan father. That betrayal had cut deep.
“I’m a simple person, Agent Atchison,” she told him in no uncertain terms, her chin tilted in defiance. “If I meet with anyone next week, it will be with my attorneys to begin divestiture of all Reagan holdings, personal and otherwise. As of tonight, there is no Paul Reagan and there is no Reagan Industries.” She turned to Alex. “Can you help me with that?”
His answer came without one second of hesitation. “Anytime, anywhere, Shannon.”
Adam nodded at her rock solid assessment of her future. This woman meant to put her nightmare of a father in the past where he belonged. Good on her.
“It won’t be that easy. You have stockholders to consider,” Atchison said quietly.
“Maybe not. Shannon was Mr. Reagan’s only heir,” Mother piped up from the corner where she sat chatting with Terrence. “According to his will, Shannon now holds the majority of stocks in the company. She’s a billionaire. I think she can do whatever she wants with her assets.”
Adam slanted a frosty bottle of the real stuff in a silent salute to Mother, thanking her for her support. She winked back. So did Terrence.
“So you’re Sasha Kennedy,” Atchison asked, his gaze zeroed on Mother. “I’d like to talk with you later, too.”
She had the good sense to smile and keep her mouth shut for a change, smart strategy for the master hacker Adam suspected she was.
“Miss Reagan,” Atchison leveled a piercing eye back at Shannon. “You might as well know. The Agency’s had an ongoing investigation into Reagan Industries for years. There were too many unexplained deaths among his competitors, too many disappearances, and too many coincidences. I’d be glad to give you a full report when you’re ready.”
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