Dangerous Illusion

by Melissa James

A slow smile curved his mouth, as one of his hands cradling her moved in soft, heated promise against her bottom, the inner curve of her thigh. “Oh, baby, I’m gonna please you all right. All the rest of the day, and all night.”

  She gasped, so turned on it was pain inside her, the sweet, lilting throb of her blood a hard, hot thudding driving her insane. “Brendan!” she cried, all but reeling with the explosions in her body. “Brendan, now!”

  “Yes, now. We’ve waited too long.” He laid her on the bed.

  Arms feeling cold and empty within seconds, she opened her eyes and reached for him. His gaze was fixed on her, and she glowed at the hard hunger and raw male appreciation in his eyes, knowing that in his eyes she was beautiful, and more importantly, she was Beth. “Don’t ever try to run from me again, baby—you won’t make it a mile. You’re mine now, and I keep what’s mine.”

  She lifted her chin as her hands dragged him down. “The same goes for you, McCall. You’re my man, and if you try to leave, or even look at another woman—”

  He gave a low chuckle, lethal, sexual as he moved beside her, one leg trapping hers beneath him. “Yeah, you’ll scratch my eyes out. So long as you try it in bed, do whatever you want to me.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Her gaze, even to her, felt as if it would send metal into molten blisters. “I’m no princess, McCall, I’m a woman who’s—”

  “Possessive, territorial and a tigress who purrs like a kitten when I do this…and this…” Hands and mouth worked their magic on her, and that low, helpless sound ripped from her throat as she writhed under his touch, and the hot, wet pulsing was unbearable. “Yes, meu amado, yes…please, love me now!”

  With one smooth motion, he lay on her, his hands parting her thighs and his eyes hot and smiling at once. “Meu amado,” he said softly. “Meu querida. You know I speak seven languages, including Portuguese, and I know what you’re calling me?”

  She was beyond caring; her flushed face thrashed from side to side on the pillow, seeking coolness, seeking relief. She needed him so much she could barely breathe. “My love, my darling—you are, Brendan, you know you are. Please, now!”

  She’d been prepared for pain, but when he filled her, after the first second of tearing her virginity, all she felt was a surge of exquisite gladness and relief. A torrent of Portuguese came from her lips, words of love, of need, of joy; when he stopped, gazing down at her, stunned, she grasped his hips. “Não, não, meu amado, não pare, não agora, necessito-o…” No, no, my love, don’t stop, not now, I need you.

  “Beth, what the hell—Danny can’t be—”

  “No,” she cried, bucking beneath him in her anguish. “Be my Brendan now. Be the team commander later, I promise I’ll tell you everything. Just love me now!”

  But he held off, his eyes still glazed with shock. “Why?” It was as if he couldn’t say any more.

  She’d give him anything to make him love her body now, even the truth. “I couldn’t live for me, not after what I’d done to her, and Danny lost his mother. And—and the thought of being this intimate with any man but you was obscene,” she cried, twisting and writhing. “I couldn’t make myself look at any man after you. I’ve felt dead inside for so long. Don’t make me wait anymore. I want to live, and only you can bring me to life…”

  He frowned and blinked. “Obscene?” he said slowly, looking completely stunned. “You waited for me?”

  “Yes, I waited for you, and yes, obscene! When the people in my family love, it’s for life, and no matter what they said about you or did to separate us, I love you, I always have and I always will!” Her hands moved over his body as she spoke, with all the urgency she felt, all the glorious anguished sweet hot need. “Please, Brendan, this feeling is pain, it’s exquisite torture inside me. Can’t you feel my pain? I need you now!”

  Finally, oh, finally he moved in her, and she groaned with the release of exquisite pain into a pleasure so intense, so overwhelmingly beautiful she could barely stand it. She sought his mouth, letting him drown her cries with lips and tongue.

  And when the gentleness stopped and he set the rhythm—oh, the rhythm, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only feel and be and it grew, grew and shone like the sun, brighter and glowing, and her body took over everything, she wasn’t in control and it didn’t matter, for once nothing mattered but this moment and Brendan, her Brendan inside her, loving her—

  Her cry was wild and unstoppable as the whitewater rush of sensation gripping her, taking her up, up and then down like a cascade, a fast-paced explosion of feeling. His name, just his name. Then other words came, another torrent of love murmured into his shoulder as he groaned her name, harsh and guttural, and shuddered against her.

  She lay in his arms, beneath him still, holding him there as he kissed her face, her hair. Feeling the candle glow of exquisite happiness, reveling in being a woman with her man.

  “I know it sounds trite, but—are you okay?” he murmured once he had his breathing under control.

  She smiled up at him. “What do you think? I didn’t exactly hide my feelings.”

  He rolled off her, but kept her in his arms. He was flushed, his body glistening with a fine coat of sweat, his hair damp and tousled from her fingers. His smile was bright as sunshine after clouds, rich and strong and free. “Does it hurt at all?”

  She bit his neck softly. “I liked it, even the pain. It made me belong to you.”

  He groaned, lifted her face and kissed her, long and slow and hot, and the lovely tingling started again, the anticipation of more loving to come. “Hold that thought.” Another kiss, soft and clinging, took her higher, damp and whimpering and needing. “I can’t believe you waited this long,” he murmured, his voice filled with wonder. “You waited for me.”

  She shrugged, smiling. “I told you, amado. We de Souzas love like that. Even when you were gone, I couldn’t make myself want to, even when I knew it was dangerous to remain a virgin with Falcone so obsessed with the virginal Delia. And after Dan was, well, I couldn’t allow myself to trust any man, or want them. I haven’t looked seriously at a man since you left me, meu amado.” She stretched against him. “It feels so good to call you that, to be able to speak in my own language again. I’ve worked so hard on my accent. I couldn’t even let myself think in Portuguese.”

  He nuzzled her neck. “You want to talk about it, or play some more first? Do you need time to recover? It’s your call.”

  He was ready again, and her body, already tingling, began the climb upward, the delicious pounding and languid heat. She arched against him, then tangled her hands in his hair. “Guess,” she whispered as her mouth met his.

  This time he was even more gentle, the tenderness beyond anything she’d ever known. Her big, dark Gypsy held himself in, touching and kissing every part of her, taking the time to give her slow-boiling pleasure so intense that she had to plead with him to take her…and oh, he did, just as slow and delicious and burning-bright. She turned and twisted beneath him, kissing and touching and filling herself with him, shadows and light, secrets and truth, bad boy and good guy and tortured hero. Loving every single part of him, McCall and team commander and her Brendan.

  And after, she slid into sleep. A gentle, drifting sleep of peace and tiredness and trust, lying sprawled over him, her head on his chest, over his heart. “I love you,” was the last thing she said, a sweet whisper as she fell like rose petals into the first deep sleep she’d known in a decade.

  And the man holding her, the man of shadows and secrets, moved one hand slowly toward his pager. Subject took bait. Has confirmed ID Delia de Souza. Son with Skydancer and Countrygirl. Subject did not run. Location, Nighthawk training facility in Breckerville. Repeat, ID Delia de Souza. Will interrogate ASAP.

  Moments later, he saw the screen light up. Roger that. ETA 1945 with team. Heidi okay. Good work, Flipper.

  His face twisted as he shoved the pager in a drawer. Yeah, the complete career man, he thought ironically, and gat
hered her dreaming form close to him in the closing light of day. He watched the sun go down through the west windows, just looking at her face; and he wondered if he’d ever hold her again, when she knew what he’d done.

  Chapter 19

  “N o! Ana, don’t be stupid, he’s not following us. He doesn’t know you’ve gone. He won’t take Robbie! Ana, stop it! No! Ana!”

  McCall, who’d jerked awake only moments before from his own dark dreams, gathered her close, soothing and caressing her until she fell back into quieter dreams.

  So that’s why she never sleeps a whole night through.

  Yeah, they were kindred spirits, even more than he’d known. Her past walked the night with her just as it did with him, haunting them like ghosts unseen, darkening dreams, allowing no rest, no peace or freedom. Challenging every waking moment, shaping them as people. Keeping them in chains.

  And with those few words, she’d just confirmed what he’d believed to be true from the moment he took her virginity.

  Ana de Souza was the one who’d married Falcone. Beth had gone to save her, even after Ana had, it seemed, stolen Beth’s identity and married Falcone under her name; and Beth had been in the accident that took Ana’s life. She’d saved Danny, given him a life free of Falcone’s filth, even if it meant sacrificing her own wants and needs.

  And it wasn’t Beth who’d ignored my calls, who’d refused to see me. It was Ana—Ana, who didn’t have a clue who I was.

  Freedom…sweet, beautiful liberty. Delia—Beth—had loved him then. She’d remained faithful to his memory, even while believing that he’d betrayed his country. She’d come with him today, made love with him, given him the priceless gift of her love and trust and virginity, still not knowing who he was, or whether he would betray her.

  And I did.

  And as fast as that, the walls slammed between them, even as he held her naked body in his arms, sated from their loving. There was no way back. He’d chosen the path he’d walked the past decade, the road of shadows and lies…and in doing so, he’d destroyed any hope of forgiveness. He’d tricked her into marriage, let her perform her innocent seduction, made love to her twice, all the while knowing he had betrayed her, and would again. He would take every piece of knowledge she’d given him and hand it to the relevant authorities, knowing she’d hate him for that.

  Two roads. One betrayed her, Danny, and even himself, everything he’d ever wanted or dreamed of in life; the other destroyed every code he’d lived by since he’d joined the SEALs and the Nighthawks. Honor. Courage. Commitment. The greater good, the bigger picture—the faceless innocents who needed him to walk in the shadows, to not exist as a person, to kill if he had to, so that their daily survival was ensured.

  The needs and hopes of three people, as against the thousands who would face Falcone’s guns and bombs and drugs. There wasn’t a choice. If he had to do it again he would, without hesitation.

  That didn’t mean he was proud of it; but self-hate was no stranger to his life. Neither was being alone.

  He was what he was. A sealed juvenile file, courtesy of the navy, only locked the truth inside his heart. Yeah, he’d turned his back on his world, clawed his way through college and became a SEAL, then a Nighthawk; but he was still that kid beneath. The man only had a thin veneer of decency, honor and courage. He was the son of a dirty drunk, birth to death, the kid not even good enough for his own mom to love. He had to earn his place in the sun, had to fight every day to remain a man of integrity, and if that meant sacrificing the dream of home and love and family he still craved in his heart every day and night, so be it. He couldn’t allow himself to hope that Beth, the original earth mother and fierce warrior-goddess for her son, would understand the bigger picture.

  The guttersnipe eternally in love with the princess was a fairy tale with no chance of a happy ending. One day of happiness with her was all he was ever going to get, despite what he’d said about her being his woman—and he’d taken it.

  And as soon as Beth awoke, it would be time to pay the piper.

  Beth felt bubbles of happiness seeping through her soul as she came back from sleep, joy coming directly from the heartbeat beneath her ear, and the strong arms holding her close. And from feeling absolutely and thoroughly loved…

  She sighed, feeling more content than she could have believed under the circumstances. For she knew what was coming. It might have been Brendan who’d taken her to bed today, but McCall the operative was always there, a part of him he wouldn’t leave behind for long—not even for her sake. His sense of duty was too great a part of his makeup to submerge for love. It was intrinsic, undeniable, and she wouldn’t love him so much if he didn’t have such a strong code of honor, even if it meant he’d hand her over to his boss tonight. She had to trust in that sense of honor, to know he would never betray her.

  “Mmm…” She stretched catlike over him, smiling at his body’s immediate reaction, and knew he was awake. “I haven’t slept that well in years.” She allowed him to see the smile now, sweet and languorous, asking blatantly for more loving.

  He didn’t smile in return. “I gathered that, from your dream about Ana’s death before.”

  She stilled. “All right. I was expecting the inquisition to start soon, anyway. Fire away. I’ll tell you everything I can.”

  “No, baby,” he growled with a brief, hard kiss. “You’ll tell me everything. Period. We’re out of time. Falcone’s left his island, Beth—he’s coming for you personally. We have to do this now, or not at all.”

  Beth sighed and nodded. “All right.” Feeling oddly shy, she pulled the sheet against her bare breasts. “Can I get dressed first? I don’t think this is your standard procedure to interrogate someone.”

  His mouth quirked a little. “I don’t remember seeing it in the manual, or hearing it in Interrogation 101. James Bond might favor the approach, but it’s too distracting.” He walked into the living room to gather their clothes, naked and beautiful and mussed, musky with the loving they’d shared.

  Beth ached, watching every step, wanting him so badly. Thank you, God, for sending this man to me once again. Thank you for giving me the man I love to be my husband, and Danny’s father…

  He came back dressed in his jeans and tossed her clothes over to her, turning his back while she dressed. When she made a soft coughing sound, he turned, a small tape recorder in one hand. He pressed “record” and spoke into the machine, his dark, musical voice cool and clipped, standing about six feet from her—the requisite distance in that damn manual, no doubt. Team Commander McCall had returned, the ultimate professional, and even expecting this from him, it hurt her in a way she couldn’t explain. “Nighthawk Team Commander One, on Operation Falcon. This is a voluntary interview given by Delia de Souza Falcone—”

  “No.” Her interruption was sharp-edged. “That is not my name. I never married Robert Falcone. My cousin Anabella did, using my name, my birth certificate and my forged signature.”

  “Interview with subject Delia de Souza. Do you, Delia de Souza, give this information of your own free will?” he went on, relentless, but dropping the Falcone, at least.

  She lifted her chin, sitting on the still-mussed bed with quiet defiance. “Yes, I do.”

  “Please answer the questions for the record.” He moved the small microphone between them, but keeping his distance. “You confirm that you are Delia Isabella de Souza, the only child of the late Brazilian ambassador to the U.S.A., Eduardo de Souza, and his wife, Cristabel de Souza?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “You now live by the name Elizabeth Anne Silver?”

  “Yes.”

  “State your last known address for the tape, please?”

  “Lot 66, Parkfield Way, Renegade River, New Zealand.”

  “Were you living there legally?”

  “No.”

  “For the record, are you the Delia Isabella de Souza who married Robert Falcone?”

  “No, sir, I am not.”

&nb
sp; “Are you the Delia de Souza Falcone who is the natural mother of Robert Falcone’s only known child, Roberto?”

  Beth felt the blood drain from her face so fast she swayed. “Brendan, don’t ask me that,” she whispered. If he knew the consequences of what he’d asked…the possible consequences to Danny’s life…

  “Please address me for the tape as Team Commander McCall. Are you the birth mother of Robert Falcone’s child, Roberto?” His beloved voice was cold, relentless—the voice of duty.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the stinging tears trickle from between her lids. “No, I am not the birth mother of the child. My cousin, Anabella de Souza Falcone, who married Robert Falcone under my name, gave birth to Roberto.”

  “This is the child you now call by the name Daniel Silver?”

  Agony gripped her. “Yes.”

  “Please speak up for the tape.”

  “Yes,” she growled from between gritted teeth.

  “For how many years did Anabella de Souza Falcone pass herself off as you, Miss de Souza?”

  With a violent struggle, she regained control. She’d always known this interview would be hard, but with the man she loved, her tender lover being the cold-faced interrogator, she felt violated—humiliated. “Just over three years.”

  “Was this substitution of lives done with your permission, Miss de Souza?”

  “At first,” she replied, now calm and cold. “My parents had just died. I wanted time to recover, and my work commitments didn’t allow for that. I was under contract, so I had little choice…but Ana wanted to try my life. She’d just finished her final rounds of therapy for scoliosis—and she’d had a nose job that made her look almost exactly like me. I agreed to let her try modeling for a few weeks, and if anyone in the business knew about the switch, they didn’t make a fuss. Maybe because I’d made it evident that I was no longer happy modeling. But Ana had always hungered for attention and reveled in the life, so much so, she wouldn’t swap back. She ruined my reputation, made men think I’d sleep with anyone. I foresaw consequences I wasn’t prepared to face. So I retired from public life, gave her my identity and took hers. I lived quietly in England for three years as Anabella de Souza, then after I took Danny I spent two years in England as Christina Le Mons, and for the last five years in New Zealand as Elizabeth Murray, then Beth Silver.”