Collision Point--A Brute Force Novel

by Lora Leigh

  Amara lifted her hand quickly to the ear that held the earbud, but she knew it was too late as she heard the snickers coming through the link. She couldn’t hear Riordan speaking though, and she prayed he wasn’t listening.

  “I could have done without that information.” Riordan definitely didn’t need it, but she lightened the protest with an attempt at a grin.

  Syn sighed heavily, her hands linking together at her knees.

  “We were all totally jealous,” she said a bit wistfully then. “The few times we saw your gazes meet, we could tell there was something there, Amara. Silent but incredibly deep. I’ve never seen that before, and we all agreed that was what we were searching for ourselves.”

  There was an edge of regret in Syn’s tone though, as though she felt she’d never find it. And perhaps she was right, Amara had never needed Riordan to declare himself to her, or for her. She’d known how he felt, she realized. Her father wasn’t right to demand that he deserved to know who was sleeping in her bed. He didn’t. She would have told him when she was ready to, when she was ready to share Riordan with the world and accept that he wasn’t just hers.

  She’d been greedy, she realized. Allowing others to know meant that when they were out, other women, or her father, or a myriad of other people would demand his attention. The fact that they’d kept their affair secret ensured she didn’t have to do that.

  The time for it would have passed, she knew. The moment she realized she was pregnant, she’d also realized how dissatisfied Riordan was with the secretiveness and how dissatisfied she had been growing as well.

  “I don’t like your father,” Syn sighed when Amara didn’t respond. “I just think you should know that. He nearly got us all killed by skidding into the coffee shop and grabbing me the way he did. His friend should have shot him as he threatened.”

  “He and Ilya have a complicated relationship,” Amara told her with a slight smile. “They’ve been friends forever. Since they were boys actually.”

  Syn snorted at that. “They didn’t sound too friendly, I have to tell you. They sounded like they wanted to kill each other.”

  Amara leveled a rueful look at the other woman. “As I said, complicated.”

  Her lips pursed thoughtfully for a moment. “Are they lovers?” she asked.

  Amara nearly choked on the strangled laugh that nearly emerged and shot her friend an amazed look. “Do they act like lovers?” Now this was funny. She’d never had a woman ask if her father was gay.

  Syn only shrugged. “Sometimes it’s hard tell.”

  “Miss Delaney?” Riordan chose that moment to step over to them. “The comm link I’m wearing is very sensitive and I should warn you, Ivan heard every word.”

  That was amusement in his voice. Amara could hear the muttered curses through her link, but she’d been ignoring them. She hadn’t expected Syn to go in quite that direction or she would have covered the link at her own ear again.

  Syn merely rolled her eyes. “He’ll survive. As long as he keeps any weapons out of my hand that is. I’d enjoy shooting him, I think.” She gave her head a little toss before sitting back on the couch and throwing Amara a subtle little wink.

  How could she have forgotten Syn’s habit of pricking the male ego every chance she had? It was one of the things that made her so fun to be around. Though Amara doubted her father would see it that way.

  “Ivan’s on his way up,” Riordan told them then. “Miss Delaney, would you like a drink before they arrive? I have a feeling all of us may well need one.”

  Syn shot him a mocking look before grimacing. “Sure,” she drawled. “But just to be social. You might want to leave the bottle out for Resnova and his dragon though. They may well need it before I’m finished.”

  And Amara had a feeling Syn wasn’t talking about the insults she could deliver.

  chapter twenty-one

  Amara had been certain her abduction and the torture inflicted on her had been due to one of her father’s enemies. Even he was certain that was where the threat lay. For six months, she knew, he’d worked with his contacts in that shadowy underworld to uncover the person, or persons, responsible. But Syn had a far different story.

  One Amara listened to in silence as she felt those shadows in her mind shifting, twisting together warningly.

  “The first intern to disappear was Shelly Mitchell. She worked with assistant DA Parrick.” Crimsyn turned to Amara, her expression tight with renewed fear again. “Do you remember her?”

  Amara nodded, swallowing tightly. Shelly was young, filled with dreams, and newly engaged.

  “She was supposed to go on vacation with her fiancé. She was supposed to be back the day after you were abducted. A week later her body washed up on some beach in Jersey. She’d been shot in the head. Her fiancé still hasn’t been found.”

  Inhaling a shuddering breath, Syn pushed her fingers through her hair as Amara and the five men who sat around the room watched her silently, waiting.

  “The day after Amara’s rescue was announced, I had to work late to finish up a brief for ADA Parrick. I only live a few blocks from the office, so I normally walk. That night though, I took a cab.” She linked her fingers tight and stared at them as her hands lay on her knees. “About an hour after I arrived home I heard my lock being picked.” Her lips trembled. “I called nine-one-one but the call wouldn’t go through, so I slipped from my bedroom to the fire escape and hid on the little ledge to the side of it.”

  She’d been hiding there, she explained, as she heard her apartment being ransacked, and through the small opening she’d left as she reclosed the window, listened to the two men as they went through her home. They were searching for information on where to find her because someone was certain she saw something, and might remember it.

  They wanted her dead, she’d heard them say, just like that Mitchell girl, then they’d find a way to take care of that Resnova bitch. By killing Amara, one of them stated, they’d take care of the threat and seriously weaken Ivan Resnova as well.

  “‘Two birds with one stone,’ one of them laughed. ‘Eliminate the threat and distract Resnova long enough to destroy him. But first, we have to make sure this Delaney bitch is dead. Then no one can tie the girls together or tie them to the boss,’” she recalled. “As I was waiting for them to leave, they opened the window, checked the fire escape rather quickly and when they ducked back in they left the window open. That’s when I heard one of them say they’d just wait for me to call nine-one-one about the break-in. They’d have one of their officers take care of me then. And if I used my cell phone to call anyone for help, they’d track me with my phone.”

  A shocked laugh left Crimsyn’s lips as she looked up again and stared back at all them in amazement.

  “One of their officers,” she repeated, the fear and outrage she felt reflected on her face. “When they left, I took what I could fit in my backpack, left my phone there, and ran.” She was trembling as she stared at her hands again, then into the gas fire Ilya had lit as she spoke. “They’ve nearly caught me twice. And now, they’re in Boulder. I was too scared to call your cell because they could’ve had a way to track the call.” She looked back at Amara. “I was waiting for you to speak to me, thinking you must know who I was, but someone was always with you. I don’t know what’s going on, Amara. Or why. But Shelly’s dead, they tried to kill you, and if they’d managed to grab me, they would have killed me too. That I know.”

  Two birds with one stone …

  “Let Resnova’s men get close. The prized stud he picked for his bitch daughter will be with them. Kill them. She’ll never breed again…”

  The memory swept over her. She knew the voice. As she listened to Crimsyn answer her father’s and Riordan’s questions, whispered voices began to emerge from those hidden memories.

  Questions. Her abductors had questioned her, and they hadn’t liked her answers. In a fit of rage, one—he wore a mask, but she could see his eyes—had pulled her from the
floor by her hair and threw her into a chair. There, he’d hacked her hair off as she fought to remain conscious while he’d laughed at her. Laughed at her because her father and her lover seemed so proud of her pretty hair.

  Her lover.

  Who had known Riordan was her lover? Even her father hadn’t known. But even more important, who had known she was pregnant?

  “Why didn’t you try to contact me?” her father’s voice was a low, brooding sound of anger. “You obviously knew who I was.”

  “A Russian mobster?” Incredulity filled Crimsyn’s voice. “The only redeeming quality you have is your obvious love for your daughter. It’s also considered your only weakness. Besides, you were a target though I have no idea why.” Crimsyn snorted with an edge of disgust. “You and him.” She nodded to Riordan.

  Two birds with one stone—her father and her lover.

  Why?

  She would never breed again …

  The memory, as faint as it was, played through her mind over and over again.

  She knew those eyes. She remembered thinking she knew his eyes. The way he stared at her, their color.

  What was that color?

  Staring at her hands as they lay in her lap she tried to remember, to force the memories from hiding.

  She could feel them so close, teasing her, tormenting her.

  Terrifying her.

  She listened to the questions her father and Riordan threw at Crimsyn, listened to her replies. There wasn’t much more information that her friend could give them though. She’d been waiting on Amara to contact her, thinking she’d have answers instead since she was so heavily guarded.

  She felt like a failure. She’d failed to keep her unborn child safe, failed to remember the bastards who killed her baby, who nearly killed Riordan. And she knew the answers were there in her memories, just waiting for her to find the key to unlock them.

  Why couldn’t she remember? Everything else was coming back. Everything but those hours between her abduction and her rescue.

  Goddammit, Micah … we’re losing him … Don’t you do this to me, Rory … The words echoed through her head and sheer terror nearly stopped her heart.

  Riordan.

  She’d tried to warn him that he was targeted, but she’d been in so much pain and trying so hard to keep him from seeing it. He had to get away from her.

  She looked up at the man running beside the carrier they’d strapped her into. Eyes like Riordan’s. His voice harsh, scraping.

  He’d been there. Micah had been there.

  Amara could feel her heart racing now, panic, hope, building inside her.

  “They said they’d get two birds with one stone…” Crimsyn was telling her father again. “They wanted you as well. But there was nothing Shelly, Amara, and I had worked on that involved you. ADA Parrick never mentioned you.”

  “Parrick can’t touch me and he knows it,” her father snorted in contempt. “I warned Amara about working for that bastard.”

  He had. Her father had warned her that Parrick was a bastard who refused to play by the rules.

  A memory flashed through her mind, too quickly to catch details or know what it meant. Three men, two with their backs to her, but Parrick was there. A door barely opened and Parrick glancing up as they walked by …

  Oh God.

  She, Crimsyn, and Shelley. The other two with her, but they weren’t paying attention. Amara had just glanced at the door. It had been opened just enough.

  But she remembered the ADA’s expression. Parrick had looked sick to his stomach as their gazes met.

  She remained silent, still. Her father would just kill Parrick, she knew him. He’d never allow the assistant district attorney to live. He’d sworn he’d kill whoever hurt her. She’d heard him, several times.

  The memory flashed again. The men turning, turning as Parrick’s head jerked up.

  Faces. Who were they?

  Just that fast, it was gone. Had she seen their faces?

  “Amara?” she heard her name called, but the past held her, the memory of a moment out of time held her as she fought to remember if she’d seen the faces of the men with the assistant district attorney.

  “Amara!” Her father snapped, but his voice simply joined the memories clashing in her head now. A jumble of visions and voices that made no sense, that she was unable to separate.

  “Amara?” Riordan touched her. His hand on her shoulder, its warmth sinking into her skin and causing her to jerk from her chair.

  Staring around the room frantically her gaze met Noah’s … God no, brathair, don’t leave me … brathair. Brother. Riordan had said his brother Nathan had died.

  Did he know?

  She watched Noah’s gaze narrow, suspicion gleaming in them.

  “We were together,” she whispered, turning to Crimsyn and seeing the expression of fragile hope on her face that Amara had actually remembered something. “You, Shelley, and me. We were at Antonio’s. You and Shelley were arguing over the work schedule.”

  “Shelley wanted a few days off unscheduled.” Crimsyn nodded as she rose to her feet. “We were heading out.”

  “I saw a meeting,” she whispered. “We passed a door, it was partially opened.”

  Crimsyn looked confused then. “We did?”

  “Who?” The single word, so quietly spoken, terrified her.

  “I don’t know.” She was lying to her father now. God help her, he would never forgive her for lying to him. For protecting him. “I saw a meeting. One of the men looked scared. So scared, it frightened me.”

  It was the truth. That sick look on Parrick’s face as he looked up at her and as the two men started turning. Then, she’d brushed it aside. She hadn’t seen who he was with, so what did it matter?

  And she should have known better. She knew she should have known better. She was her father’s daughter, she’d grown up with such lessons drilled into her mind. Watch everything. Discount nothing. But she’d just wanted to leave. Riordan was waiting on her just ahead, his gaze pulling her, reminding her of their plans that evening.

  The promises he’d made of all the sexy things he was going to do to her when Elizaveta and Grisha left for Russia. He was going to make her scream for him to take her, he’d promised her.

  “I thought it was nothing,” she whispered, trying to breathe through the knowledge searing her.

  It hadn’t been nothing.

  Parrick’s expression should have warned her of that. She should have never forgotten what she’d seen. She should have told Riordan. She should have called her father. But she’d forgotten about the meeting. And she hadn’t known when Shelley had disappeared. She was supposed to be off work anyway.

  “Riordan, get her out of here,” Noah told his brother.

  It wasn’t an order, but the suggestion was firm, indicating that at one time, Noah had given the orders. “Ivan, call your contacts at Antonio’s. Those rooms have to be reserved,” he reminded her father. “Get the reservation lists from two weeks before her abduction. Let’s see who’s on it.”

  That would take more than a night, Amara consoled herself as Riordan’s hand lowered to her back and led her from the room. Led her away from the suspicion in her father’s eyes.

  Oh, Poppa knew she was lying. He knew, and the look on his face promised her he’d be talking to her very very soon.

  * * *

  Brathair.

  As Amara and Noah had looked at each other, Riordan heard the word as though in the lightest whisper. Barely there. More sensed than heard as he felt a sensation he’d only felt a few times in his life. Each time he’d felt it, Amara had been involved.

  When she’d been abducted. The few times something had drawn him from the near coma after he’d been wounded rescuing her. When Noah had told him about the miscarriage. And again, now.

  Brathair.

  The warning look Noah shot him wasn’t lost on him either. For some reason, somehow, Amara knew Noah was the brother Nathan whom everyon
e believed was dead. And that wasn’t something he’d ever told Amara. Just as he hadn’t told her about the miscarriage.

  But she knew. That sensation he’d felt? It was the one his grandpops had often warned him about. The sensation that accompanied that moment when a Malone touched the soul of the woman who owned his own soul. That moment when Irish eyes saw past reality and into the heart of true love. The woman who loved. The man who loved. That moment their souls touched.

  Checking her room quickly, he returned to the entrance, nodded to Micah who stood with Amara, then pulled Amara in and closed the door firmly before sliding the lock in place.

  He watched her for long seconds as she moved to the gas fire and stared at the flames. The way her pants hugged her slender hips and pert ass, the line of her back beneath the sweater. His dick was so damn hard, he wanted nothing more than to throw her to the bed and tear those clothes off her. The need to touch her, to feel that bond again, deeper, stronger, was almost overwhelming.

  “What happened in there?” he asked her, knowing what had happened, feeling it to the depths of his being.

  “Nothing happened.” Her voice was low, uncertain. “I told you what I remembered.”

  “Did you?” Stalking to her, he gripped her arm, pulling her to face him, and saw the truth in her eyes, her uncertainty and fears. And she broke his heart. “What did you remember?”

  Her lips trembled for a second. “Brathair.” The word was but a whisper of sound. “I heard him call you brathair as you died. You died, Riordan… I felt you die…” Her beautiful eyes filled with tears. “I felt you die and I wanted to die with you…” Her voice broke, a ragged sob that sent a jagged slice of pain across his chest.

  “God, Amara.” He jerked her into his arms, his head bending to her, his lips against her ear. “Never say that word again,” he murmured for her alone. “Ever.”

  She nodded as he spoke, knowing the secret, sensing the danger in it.

  Her voice had been low enough that this time no ears could have heard what she said. He couldn’t chance the word ever being heard. Noah couldn’t chance it. Dead men didn’t talk, but he knew in that moment that his heart had stopped on that chopper, a dead man had forced him back. His brother, as well as the bonds that held him to the woman in his arms now.