Deadly Games

by Cate Noble

  Several rustic wooden tables and benches were shoved against the far wall. Wood was scattered near the fireplace.

  A message was painted in Spanish on the wall. “Can you translate that?” Rocco asked Gena.

  She squinted. “El Brisa ruin. Private property. Leave or die.”

  “That last was probably added by the local drug lord,” Clay said. “They’re notorious for taking over these older sites. Great place to process drugs.”

  Rocco looked around. “Doesn’t look like they’ve been here in a while. I say we take our chances and trespass for the night.”

  “No argument from me,” Clay said.

  Rocco opened the door at the farthest end of the room. “Looks like they bunked in here.” Cots were stacked against one wall.

  “Place looks like heaven to me,” Clay said. “Why don’t you folks take this room? I’ll drag a cot out there for me. I want to see if I can get a fire going. Maybe we can get our clothes dry.”

  “Sounds good.” Rocco helped Clay move a cot and then he returned to Gena.

  She had already moved two cots into the middle of the room. “I found a couple that don’t have holes. There are blankets stacked over there, too. Just not sure if they’re clean.”

  Rocco tugged several blankets from the middle of the stack and shook them open. “These aren’t too bad. We’ll need to strip down, Gena. If I put our clothes by the fire, they’ll be dry by morning.”

  “But, what do I wear?”

  Rocco held up a blanket. “It’s better than sleeping in wet clothes. You’re already shivering. Take off everything and wrap up in the blanket.”

  He moved to the far corner and began stripping off his own wet clothes and shoes, keeping his back to her. “You decent?” he asked a minute later.

  “Yes.” She had a blanket wrapped sarong style around her as she untangled her clothing.

  “Be right back.” Rocco took her clothes out with his.

  Clay had a roaring fire going now. “Just as well I’m sleeping alone. I’d roast with clothes on.”

  Rocco tossed a couple blankets on Clay’s cot, then moved a bench closer to the fire and draped his and Gena’s clothes across it. Clay had stacked up more wood near the fire.

  “You need anything else?” Rocco asked.

  “Room service?” Clay joked. “Nah, I’m good. Try to get some rest.”

  “Holler if you need anything.”

  When Rocco returned to the rear room, Gena hadn’t moved. She stared at the flickering oil lamp, looking more vulnerable than when Rocco had first arrived two days ago.

  “Lie down, sweetheart,” he encouraged. “There’s nothing we can do till morning.”

  She nodded but instead moved closer to him. “Rocco, please hold me.”

  He enveloped her in his arms, squeezing her as tight as he dared. “Better?”

  She shook her head. “When I found the pilot, I was so scared. I was afraid I’d never see you again.”

  “That you were worried about me means a lot, Gena.” He pressed a kiss to her head. “I was frantic to find you, too. Quite frankly, I couldn’t imagine a world without you in it. What would I dream about every night?”

  “You … you dream about me?”

  “Never stopped.” He probably never would either. “Let’s get you settled.”

  “Rocco, make love to me.”

  Her words stunned him, even as his body sprang to life, ready to make her words true. He lifted her chin, so he could look into her eyes. The flickering lamplight emphasized the hollows beneath her eyes, but her gaze was steady.

  “Are you sure, Gena? Remember this morning?” Had it really only been that morning that they’d been in the Holiday Inn? It seemed light-years ago.

  “I’ve been miserable remembering that I had a chance to be with you this morning and I blew it.” She tugged at the blanket at his waist. “I’m sure this time.”

  Rocco caught her mouth and kissed her with a ferociousness that startled him. The adrenaline that he’d felt before the crash suddenly seemed to spring back to life.

  Gena’s movements were as rushed and eager as his. She broke the kiss and loosened her blanket to stand naked before him. As soon as he tossed away his blanket, her hand closed over his erection. She began to stroke him, moving back against him to rub him with her abdomen as well.

  Rocco’s hands closed over her breasts, plumping, massaging. When his fingers tapered down to her nipples, she moaned softly and whispered, “I want you now.”

  Rocco looked around the room. The cots wouldn’t hold two thrusting, driving bodies. And he wasn’t about to lay her on the ground. Which only left one option.

  “Hold on.” He lifted her straight up.

  Gena wrapped her legs around his hips. She still had his cock in her hand and guided him between her legs.

  He hadn’t been prepared to enter her so soon, but the feel of her, moist and hot, had him swelling even more. He pressed up and in. Her body was tight, resisting him at first, until Gena surged back against him, pressing her pelvis down.

  She gasped as Rocco slid in fully and buried himself to the hilt. Gena pressed kisses across his shoulder, then started raising and lowering her hips.

  Rocco could do nothing but hold her. He wanted her breasts in his mouth, he wanted to touch her clitoris, but he couldn’t do any of it. Holding her, letting her control the pace was a divine torture.

  He was close to the edge but refused to come until she’d satisfied herself. Gradually she increased the pace of her movements.

  “Please help,” she whispered against his ear. “I’m … I’m so close.”

  “Me too.” He turned, easing her just slightly against the wall, which allowed him to shift his weight and gain leverage. He pulled his cock out, then drove it back into her. “Better?”

  She nodded, writhing in his arms. When her orgasm exploded, he felt her sheath tighten around his cock, bathing him in pleasure.

  Rocco began pistoning his hips, slamming in and out of her body, loving the feel of her fingernails and teeth on his flesh, amazed as she launched into a second orgasm.

  And then he was coming, too. He had the brief thought to pull out, aware he wasn’t wearing a condom, but he couldn’t stop.

  He selfishly reveled in the moment. If Gena was to get pregnant, she’d be bound to him. And then— All thought ceased as his hips pumped and flexed into her one last time.

  He hugged her close and felt her tears against his neck. That she was crying broke Rocco’s heart. “Talk to me, Gena. What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. In fact, it all feels very right.” Gena lowered her legs and Rocco eased her to the ground. As they uncoupled, his semen dripped down her legs.

  He kept her pinned against the wall. “Gena, we didn’t use protection. If you’re pregnant, I want you to—”

  She cut him off, her voice low. Hurt. “Don’t say it! I know I screwed up last time. If I’m pregnant, I’ll do everything in my power to take better care.”

  “Last time? Had you gotten pregnant with Harry?”

  “No!” She shoved at his shoulder, wanting to move away. But Rocco wouldn’t let her.

  “Are you saying you were pregnant … by me? Talk to me, Gena! Damn it, I have a right to know.”

  “You did know! When Harry told you I was pregnant, I was there, Rocco! I know you denied it. I know you were with Brandy.”

  Rocco felt as if he’d been transported to another universe where he didn’t speak the language. “What are you talking about? Harry never told me you were pregnant. And who is Brandy?” He groaned and shook his head as it became obvious. “Was that why you married Harry? Because he got you pregnant?”

  “It was your child, Rocco. Not Harry’s. He married me to give the baby a name, to help me out. But— I lost the baby.”

  Rocco didn’t know what to say. His shock was tempered by her loss. His sister, Adele, had suffered a miscarriage after having Billy and she’d been devastat
ed.

  He relaxed his grip. “I’m sorry about whatever happened.”

  Gena moved away to grab a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  Rocco picked up his blanket, then motioned toward the cots. “Can we sit down and talk? It feels like there is something neither of us is getting, though it sounds like Harry lied to both of us.”

  Gena opened her mouth. “Why would he do that?”

  “Who knows? Let’s stick to what we do know. About us. I’ll start. After that last time I saw you, I was pissed and I shouldn’t have been. I went on a deep undercover job in the Middle East thinking you’d be glad to see me after six or eight weeks. But then I heard through the grapevine that you’d married Harry Gambrel. I went ballistic, Gena. In fact, I picked a fight with Harry after he told me the two of you had been seeing each other for months.”

  “He told you that?” Gena went pale. “I thought Harry was my friend. I knew I was pregnant when you came over that last time. My father had just cut off my trust fund and was pressuring me to return to Texas. I had made up my mind I’d tell you the truth the next time you called. But then I got an e-mail from someone named Brandy. I don’t even recall her last name, but she basically accused me of having an affair with you. She sent photos of you with her. And copies of text messages. I had pretty much decided to go back to Texas to have the baby. But Harry came by. He called you for me, said you denied the baby was yours.”

  Rocco hugged her as she wept. “It was a lie, Gena. Harry and I never spoke about your being pregnant. And I didn’t date anyone after first laying eyes on you in Mexico. Whoever sent e-mails from Brandy was in league with Harry. Or maybe Harry did it himself. I wish I could have seen the photos because I bet they were doctored.”

  “I guess I never realized how much Harry disliked me,” Gena said. “But honestly, I don’t remember much of my marriage. After I miscarried, I fell into a horrible depression and drank to drown the pain. Which is no excuse.”

  “Maybe you were drinking to drown other pain, too,” Rocco said. “Harry’s abuse was more frequent than you told the police, wasn’t it?”

  She nodded. “At the time, I thought I deserved to be punished for losing the baby. Our baby. I shouldn’t have stayed with Harry as long as I did.”

  “That time you went to the emergency room. A warrant was issued for Harry. When I heard about it, I kicked Harry’s ass and hauled him in. But you dropped the charges.”

  “I dropped the charges when Harry agreed to grant me a divorce and stay away.”

  Rocco reached for her hands, held theminhis. “God, Gena, I know there’s more. And if I had realized—”

  “If, if, if. We can’t go back.”

  He watched as she pulled the blanket closer around her. “Come here. You’re exhausted.”

  Gena stood and moved closer. “Rocco—”

  He shifted her onto his lap and kissed her forehead. “I never stopped loving you, Gena. Ever.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “And I’ve always loved you, too.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Richmond, Virginia

  October 6, 5:00 A.M.

  I am not Taz.

  I am Logan.

  Mission incomplete.

  Logan dug the ice pick more deeply into his thigh but got little relief. Erin was right. He needed to do something different.

  When she had told him about the data chips earlier, the pain had spiked worse than ever. But in that moment of extreme agony, he’d had a breakthrough.

  He’d remembered.

  Everything.

  Right now he could count the data chips inside his abdomen and beneath the muscles in his thighs. He also recalled Rufin’s instructions.“Find me. Save me. Or Bettina dies. She is with me.”

  Bettina.

  Those bastards had stolen Taz’s sweetest memory of love. And then they had invented others. Imaginary brothers. Fictional sisters. Children he’d dreamed of but never had.

  But Bettina had been real. And she had loved him like no other.“I’ll wait for you, however long it takes. I intend to be Mrs. Logan Treyhorn.”

  He’d had that inscribed on her tombstone. Bettina had died from pneumonia. Logan had been on a mission when she’d taken ill. By the time he’d reached the hospital, she’d been on life support for seven days.

  “I’ll wait for you.”

  He’d sat beside her bed, holding her hand, begging her to get better. “I’ll never leave you again,” he had said.

  Bettina had died a few hours later. And his life had sucked ever since.

  “Pull over here.” Logan’s voice was hoarse. “We’ll get gas.”

  “We just stopped.” Erin’s voice was gentle.

  He knew she wondered if he was losing it. Actually, he’d found it.

  Now that Taz knew about the data chips, it all made sense. Rufin had felt trapped, had expected to be killed. Hell, part of Logan still wanted to find Rufin, just to fulfill that expectation.

  But a bigger part realized the danger he was now in. People would slaughter him to get the data.

  “Pull up at the pump,” Logan said. “I’ll top the tank off anyway.”

  When Erin shut off the engine, Logan held out his hands for the keys, but instead of taking them, he grasped her hand.

  “Thank you for telling me the truth. About Rufin.” Logan took a deep breath, struggling to hold back the pain. “When I was with Dr. Winchette, I saw his thoughts before he died. A man’s life doesn’t flash before his eyes, only his regrets. Winchette had many. He felt guilty for not warning your father. Winchette worried he’d be murdered, too, and kept copies of all his records on a hard drive. It’s in a bank box in Springfield. Number 803 is all I got.”

  Erin blinked back tears. “Now I need to thank you.”

  “For what it’s worth, Winchette regretted deceiving you, too. And he planned to take his own life if anyone tried to force him to take action against you.” Logan grimaced and dug the ice pick in more deeply, seeking a few additional minutes of relief.

  Erin shifted her hand, gripping his more tightly, and he wondered when their grasp had changed. She held him now.

  He also noticed there were different cars at the gas pumps. He’d been talking, unaware of time or even what all he’d said.

  No matter. He tugged his hand free of hers. “Go inside and pay for the gas. Then call Hades … Max. Tell him I remember. And tell him where you are.”

  “Please don’t leave! I can help you, Logan. Max will help you, too.”

  Logan.

  Mission incomplete.

  Logan could feel the insanity inside his skull frantically changing tracks as it tried to take over again. He knew he couldn’t fight it much longer.

  He panted through the pain. “I’m not leaving, Erin. Just go. Pay for the gas, then use the phone at the back of the store.”

  Delving into Erin’s thoughts one last time, he read her indecision. Her concern for him was genuine. She wanted to help him.

  Suddenly desperate, Logan opened fully to her and let himself feel the power of her caring. Her innate goodness. And her total love for Max. The same love Logan had once shared with Bettina.

  Dropping his defenses and opening to Erin allowed Max to charge into Logan’s thoughts. She’s mine! If you harm her, I’ll destroy you.

  Logan opened his car door. “Go on,” he said to Erin. “Pay for the gas and call Max.”

  As she hurried inside the store, Logan moved to the back of the car and began to loosen the gas cap. He watched Erin pause at the counter to prepay before moving toward the phone near the coolers.

  She’s calling you now, mate. Taz projected the message to Max. I let her go.

  The sense of relief Logan received in return was profound. You’re doing the right thing, Max replied. We can help you.

  I’m beyond help.

  Not true. Erin will fix you. She fixed me.

  But the chips, mate. No one can be trusted with them. The stuff th
ey did to us should never happen again.

  Logan lifted the gas pump nozzle and flipped the lever. Then he doused himself with gasoline.

  Don’t do it! Max’s voice reverberated in his head. Erin, stay back!

  She’s a keeper, Logan thought. Don’t be a fool like me and lose her.

  Bettina had asked Logan to stay, but at his hesitation, she’d withdrawn her request. “Pay no attention to me, love. I know you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. Just hurry back to me.”

  Logan walked away from the car and withdrew the Zippo lighter from his pocket, feeling free for the first time in years.

  “I’m coming, Bettina.”

  Logan flicked the lighter and felt the wonderful ease of relief as his clothes and skin began to burn.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Minh Tran’s Compound, Thailand

  October 6, 9:00 A.M.

  Maddy was in the formal dining room, waiting for Minh Tran to join her for breakfast. Dreading it actually. What would she do if he made any advances?

  She’d been drugged last night with a powerful sedative. This morning Sunlee had woken her early for a bath. Afterward Maddy had been given a gauzy pantsuit and heels to wear.

  “I can’t wear this,” she’d protested. “It’s practically see-through.”

  “It is important you please Master Tran,” Sunlee had insisted. “It is important I please him as well.”

  That Sunlee was simply following orders made it no easier for Maddy to walk down the staircase. One guard stood near the front door but he’d ignored them. She’d been relieved that the dining room was deserted and prayed that Minh Tran would oversleep.

  Now all hell broke loose. The early morning quiet was decimated by ringing phones and harsh alarms. People started shouting. Maddy didn’t understand their words, but total pandemonium transcended language.

  The house came alive with frantic activity. A half dozen of Minh Tran’s guards ran down the hall, toward the front entrance, as household staff ducked out of their way.