by E C Sheedy
“Then why call you in at all?”
He fired his finger at her. “Two points for the question. Another twenty if you have the answer.” Her question cut to the heart of this mess, and he’d been turning it over—and over—in his mind since he’d got the call from Holister. Why him?
Silence.
Laine paced a bit, shoved her hair behind her ears again. She stopped abruptly. “Plan B. Of course!” She nodded her head as if to herself. “Dad always has a Plan B, and that plan ‘must run parallel and be as fool-proof as the first.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide.
Tanner nodded. He’d heard Joe say those exact words a dozen times. “Now all we have to do is figure out Plan B.”
“Come with me.” She marched toward the door.
A few seconds later they were in the library with its walls of books, expensive carpets, and massive male-sized furniture.
Laine went directly to the fireplace, ran her hand along the carved mantel, and gave it a tug; the fireplace swung open like a gate. Tanner arched a brow in the direction of the many bookcases, the usual cover for secret rooms.
She followed his glance. “Too predictable. Dad had this”—she nodded toward the electric fireplace—“put in when we first bought in Mayfair.”
“And he told you about it?”
“Not exactly. I pay attention.”
“Remind me never to cheat on you.”
Before she ducked to enter the small space behind the fireplace, she shot him a questioning look.
A few seconds later, she emerged waving a leather notebook. “Here it is.” She plopped it on the desk and pulled the desk lamp closer.
He read over her shoulder, then cursed, and paced halfway across the room.
Her eyes followed him—like a pair of damning lasers. “He wants you to succeed him as head of Raven Force, and he’s putting a billion-and-a-half dollars at your disposal for its operational expenses. The papers governing the funds are all in Switzerland. That’s why you’re here! First you prove your loyalty by not killing him, then you take over after someone else does.” She slammed the book closed. “God, how serpentine is that. And so damn like him!” She turned on Tanner, eyes blazing. “And it gives you a powerful reason to want my father’s death.”
He strode toward her, pulled her to him, and kissed the spite out of her. When he finally lifted his mouth from hers, he said, “What I want, Laine Derek, is you. You figure I have a chance at that if I murder your father on the road to our happy ending.”
She shook her head. “Not a chance in hell.”
“Then shut up and let me kiss you.” The kiss was rough, then soft, and about the time he thought he’d drown in it, he pulled back. He was damn pleased that she looked dazed and confused. “I told you we couldn’t be friends.”
Silence. “So you did.” She gave him an unreadable look, half frustration, half confusion. “I just didn’t believe you.”
“And now?” He let out a long breath, frustrated that he didn’t have time to take the kiss where it was meant to lead. But—given he had a killer to stop—sex just wasn’t on the agenda. Yet. He stepped away from her.
She gave him a hard but thoughtful look. “I’m getting it. Not sure what to do about it, but I’m definitely getting it.”
“Then hold that thought, because right now we have to talk about your father.” He took a couple of steps. “He’s scheduled to go to the hospital”—he looked at his watch—“in thirty-one hours. Right?”
“Right.”
“Then the kill has to be set for tomorrow night.”
At his use of the word ‘kill’ she turned ashen.
He wanted to take her in his arms, tell her everything was going to be okay. He also didn’t want to make promises he couldn’t keep. Right now they both needed to think, not feel.
“No one wants to die a second before they have to, plus he’s planned a dinner for, according to Collier, his closest friends.” He looked at Laine, who’d put a hand over her mouth, as if to contain her distress. “Joe Derek doesn’t plan to wake up.”
Laine leaned heavily on the edge of her father’s massive desk. What Tanner said made perfect sense. Her father had been planning tomorrow night’s dinner for a month now. A reunion dinner, he called it. He’d flown old friends in from Chicago, New York...
Damn him, he was saying good-bye!
“What’s wrong?” Tanner asked, taking a couple of steps toward her, then stopping.
“Thinking about him... planning all this, while I fussed and worried about him coming through the surgery.” She shook her head. “Bringing you here. Hiring his own killer! Damn it, I could kill him myself! When he gets home, I’m going to call him on it and—”
“No, you’re not.” He came to stand in front of her, lifted her chin. His blue eyes were dead serious. “I need to know if he’s hired a Raven for this job. You tip Joe off and that won’t happen—he’ll find another way. Maybe cancel the surgery.”
Her stomach sank. He was right. If her dad was anything, he was determined. “Then what? How do we stop this insanity?”
He took his hand away from her face. “We play his game. But starting tomorrow night, after the dinner, your father doesn’t leave my sight until he’s on that operating table, meaning whoever he’s hired has to get to him through me. And that’s not going to happen. That’s a positive. Okay?”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. But judging from that look in your eye, you’re not. So you’re welcome to keep those suspicious eyes on me—if it will make you feel better.”
“It will.”
“Fair enough.” Brushing her hair back, he took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead in the way he’d done so many years ago. Then he touched his lips to hers, and her knees turned to rubber.
“I don’t entirely trust you, you know.” She sounded too breathy. “No matter how much you kiss me.”
“I wouldn’t trust me, either.” He kissed her then, softly, slowly, his mouth whispering over hers. Her arms went around his neck, pulling him closer, until the hard length of him was flush between her hips.
He felt so good, so right...
“Have I told you how beautiful you are,” he whispered, taking the kiss deeper. “How much I love your mouth, that soft sound that purrs from the back of your throat when we kiss.” His mouth hovering over hers, his voice hoarse, he said, “I want to make love to you, Laine. I ache with wanting you.” He lifted his head, looked into her eyes. “When this is all over... is that going to happen?”
She should have hesitated, done at least a second or two of the I’m-not-that-easy routine. She didn’t. “Yes. That’s most definitely going to happen. If—”
“Shush.” He put a finger to her mouth. “I know the ‘if’.”
The dining room was immense, the table a mile long, and the guests formal. Tanner donned the tux which, thankfully, was soft-structured. He was comfortable enough at the dinner party in the role of ‘old friend’, and the swirl of conversation, clinking glasses, and occasional bursts of laughter provided enough distraction for him to keep a close eye on the dinner guests. Other than an initial clap on the shoulder, Joe Derek kept his distance. No surprise.
Wearing some kind of soft pink body hugging satin thing that had him drooling, Laine sat at the far end of the table near her father. Tanner feasted his eyes on her every chance he had.
Definitely going to happen. If... her father stayed alive.
Speaking of whom, Joe Derek was one hell of an actor. Watching him in the role of gracious host, you’d think he was planning a holiday, rather than a meeting with the grim reaper.
Collier stood in shadowy attendance, his face grim.
Holister was the last to arrive, and not surprisingly he was seated next to Tanner. They’d played casual acquaintances for the last couple of hours. Finally, Holister leaned closer and whispered, “Everything on track, Cross?”
Tanner didn’t answer, just picked up his water g
lass, took a sip, and asked. “I assume you’re staying the night.”
“No. I’m heading for the airport. As a matter of fact”—he glanced at his watch—“I’d better move on. Say my good-byes to Joe and Laine.”
Tanner watched him go, greatly relieved he could remove him from the suspect grid.
Holister’s departure initiated a flurry of leave takings and within a half hour, Joe and Laine were in the grand foyer saying good-byes to the last of the guests.
The Derek staff descended on the table like a school of piranhas on speed, and within minutes the table was cleared and its brilliant floral table center perfectly repositioned.
Tanner intended to be equally as efficient dispatching Joe’s hired killer. He headed for Joe Derek’s room on the third floor and let himself in. Not a second later, the barrel of a gun was lodged against the back of his neck. “What the fuck are you doing in here? Nosing around where you don’t belong.”
“Collier. I was really hoping it wasn’t you. Figured we might get to be pals, you know?”
“Fat chance. Turn around, Cross, and make it fast.”
Tanner never argued with a gun—particularly one in a position to splatter his brains over Persian rugs. He turned.
The sound of voices filtered in from the hall. “Fuck!” Collier appeared to panic, glancing left, then right. He grabbed Tanner’s shoulder, spun him. “The window. Behind the drapes. Now!” He shifted the gun to Tanner’s back.
“You’re kidding me. Behind the curtains?”
“Shut up and move.”
He moved. In seconds they were both hidden by rich damask, a second later Derek and Jacobsen walked into the room. Tanner had a half-assed view of the room through the panel break in the draperies. He guessed Collier had about the same.
Joe said clearly, “Have you got it?” He took off his jacket, placed it on the bed, and started rolling up his sleeve.
“Yes, sir.” Jacobsen opened a small box and pulled out a syringe.
“You can leave it.” Joe said. “I’ll do it myself tonight.”
What the hell...
Ignoring the gun Collier had parked on his left kidney, Tanner threw back the curtain. “Stop right there.”
The men froze in place; Joe with his hand holding his shirt up above the elbow, Jacobsen, the hypodermic in his hand, and Collier, his gun now pointed at empty space.
Tanner strode to Jacobsen and grabbed the needle. Turning to Joe, he said, “Game over. Nobody’s dying here tonight.”
Jacobsen looked faint. Fainter still when Collier stepped from behind the curtains, and pointed a gun at his gut. “Stay put.”
Joe Derek closed his eyes a moment, then let out a long breath. “Let him go,” he said to Collier. “He thinks it’s a B12 shot. I’ve been taking them for months now.”
“But this one’s not B12, is it?” Tanner said.
“No.”
“Let me guess... a heavy-duty barbiturate. Like maybe enough to kill a elephant?”
Joe rolled down his sleeve and did up his cuff. “I knew you wouldn’t kill me, Tanner, but I didn’t expect you’d ride in on a damn white horse—figuratively speaking.” He glared at Collier. “What the hell are you doing here? And get rid of that.” He nodded to Collier’s gun.
Collier shrugged, holstered the gun. “I didn’t like the way this guy’s been sneaking around. Plus he made one too many trips to buy pharmaceuticals. I figured whatever he was up to, it wasn’t good.“
“I have not been ‘sneaking around’ as you put it. I have been following instructions.” Jacobsen came to life and turned on Joe, his back valet-straight. “Mister Derek, I have been happily in your employ for ten years, and it pains me to submit my resignation, effective immediately. But what pains me more is that you would use me in such an underhanded way. You were selfish to do so, and cowardly in the extreme. Before I go, may I suggest you do the honorable thing. Face your fate from your surgery with courage and resolve. And, as they say, let the chips fall where they may.” He looked around the room, his chin high. “Gentlemen, I bid you good-bye.”
Three pairs of eyes watched Jacobsen leave the room. Then, Collier gave a curt nod and followed him.
When they were alone, Tanner nodded to Joe. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Joe gave a shaky laugh. “Looks like Robbie Burns was right—‘The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.’ Including mine.” He walked to a cabinet near the window, atop it was a decanter of brandy and some glasses. He lifted the decanter. “Drink?”
“Sure.”
Joe brought him his drink and they sat in the two chairs in front of the fire. “Does Laine know?”
“Yes.”
He cursed softly, put his head down, rubbed his forehead with the glass. “Now what?”
“You’re asking me?”
“About now I’m supposed to be a dead man, so I’m fresh out of ideas.” Joe downed his scotch in one jerky movement.
He’s finding it harder to face the unknowns of the surgery than death itself. Tanner got that, figured he might be the same in his shoes.
“You want a plan, here it is. First, I don’t leave your side until they wheel you into that operating room. Then”—he took a drink, leaned back in his chair—“we take Jacobsen’s advice, ‘let the chips fall where they may.’” He gave Joe a steady-on look. “And if you’re concerned about the Raven Force, don’t be. I’ve got your back, for as long as it takes.”
“I arranged for you to take charge, you know. The money, the contacts, all of it.”
“I know.”
Joe raised a brow.
“Laine found your notebook.”
He cursed, rubbed his forehead again. “That girl is so smart it’s scary.”
“Won’t argue with that.”
“About the surgery...” Joe looked at him a long time, his expression that of man who wanted to be convinced, but wasn’t. “The best ‘chip’ would be my dying on the table. Better for the Ravens.”
“Negative that. The best chip is your waking up at a hundred percent, and a few months from now, giving me your blessing to marry your daughter.”
Two months later
Laine rested the back of her head on the tub’s porcelain rim and closed her eyes, fragrant minty bath oil wafting up her nose. “I think there’s a law against this. Has to be. Somewhere.”
Tanner, occupied with massaging one of her soapy feet, said, “And what law would that be?”
“I don’t know... something about not being allowed to be this happy. Like, ‘Thou shalt not have more than your share of bliss.’”
“Nope. No such law. You can have all the bliss you want.”
“We’re not really right for each other, you know.”
“I know.” He gave her foot a nip before releasing it back into the water, and resting his arms along the sides of the tub. “I knew you were wrong for me the minute I met you. Trouble, that’s what I thought.”
Laine pulled herself up, happy to see Tanner’s attention gravitate to her naked breasts. Breasts were a nuisance when you were trying to fit a damn bra—but absolutely great at times like this. “You like trouble, Tanner Cross.” She lowered herself over him, and he did what she wanted him to do, cupped her breasts. So good...
He licked each nipple, kissed them. “That I do.”
“I taste like soap.”
“You taste like heaven.”
She knelt between his legs, and took the length of him in her hands. His inhalation was sharp and powerful. “God, damn it, ” he whispered, “I love your hands on me.” He closed his eyes, and she stroked him until his broad chest quaked under his short, rapid breaths. Finally, he grabbed her hand, inhaled deeply, and in an urgent tone said, “Let’s get out of this tub and—”
Her own breathing no better than his, she managed a smile. “—go find some trouble?”
Returning her smile, he said, “All you can give me.”
Two hours later, the only li
ght in the room from the dying fire, Laine woke up to find Tanner looking at her. Did his dark blue gaze wake her? She didn’t know, but with the firelight dancing across his features, she’d never seen him more... beautiful—or intense. His face, cast in shadow and gold, appeared almost stern.
She touched his cheek. “Tanner?”
“I love you, Laine.”
The words took their place between them, whole, fresh and full of promise.
What took you so long, you mule-headed male! But oh, she loved him for waiting. “I love you, Tanner,” she said, her heart near to collapsing under the weight of it.
“Thank, God. I’d have felt like an ass, if you’d said I was just your boy-toy.”
“Well, you’re that, too.”
He grinned, took her hand from his cheek to his mouth and kissed her palm. “I’ve been waiting to tell you. Actually, I’ve been biting back the words since that kiss in Harrods dressing room.”
“Why?”
He propped himself on an elbow, looked down at her. “I thought if I said it too soon, the words would... lose value. And because I wanted to be sure your father was in good enough health for us to make plans.”
She laughed at that. “My father, it seems, is indestructible.”
He nodded, turning serious again. “You understand I’ll be taking over the Raven Force? Your father asked, and I’ve accepted.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You know what that means?”
It means danger, separations, distance, and endless secrets. It means I have to share you with your job—your calling. “Yes, I know what it means.”
“You’re good with it?” He held her with his eyes. So blue, so intense, they burned.
“Negative that.” She smiled, touched his jaw. “But if my boy-toy promises to spend every hour of every day that he’s not saving the world with me, I’ll make it work.”
“We’ll make it work,” he said, kissing her again.
