The three shared a laugh that made Malcolm a little sick inside.
Two days later, he still hadn't heard from Darcy. He'd called, but she hadn't answered. When he'd cruised by her house, he saw her car in the driveway and the lights on, but he hadn't possessed the courage to intrude. She'd asked for time.
But time was up. In a little under four hours, he needed to have her to Snyder's house.
“Darcy? Sweetheart, it's time to wake up.”
Without opening her eyes, Darcy rolled toward the delicious sounds of his honeyed words. If she gave in and opened them, the voice would be gone and she would awaken to an empty room and pangs of loneliness.
Reaching out, she found warm flesh. She ran her fingertips over his cheeks and across his lips. Then she buried her fingers in his hair and pulled him down. With her heart and soul, she yearned for his kiss. She didn't open her eyes or say anything, though by this point she was awake enough to know Malcolm was in her bedroom.
He hadn't surrendered his key, and now he teased her mouth with the gentle pressure of his almost kiss. The entire week had been so horribly draining. Right now she wanted to forget any of it had happened. She wanted to drown in his arms.
Parting her lips in an unmistakable invitation, she managed a mewling plea. With a groan, he braced his hands on either side of her head, crushing her pillow flat and releasing the passion bottled inside both of them.
It exploded, liquid and hot. She moaned and clutched his shirt. She wanted him closer, and she wanted no clothing barriers between them. Still ravaging her mouth, he captured her hands and held them above her head. She arched, lifting her body closer, but since he stood next to the bed and she was trapped beneath the covers, it did no good.
Just when she thought she'd expire from the sweet bliss, he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. Her oxygen-starved chest heaved, and she was happy to see him similarly out of breath. He lifted his head, depriving her of that contact.
She tried to reach for him, but he still had her wrists pinned. “Don't go.”
“I'd have been here days ago if I thought this was how you'd greet me.”
Days ago she would have rewarded his bravery with a fat lip. Sometime yesterday, a few hours after she finished clearing the last of Scott's things from his workroom, the ache left by his lies had morphed into an ache for him.
Before she could say anything, her afternoon companion made waves in her stomach. She fought his hold. “Let me up.”
He didn't, and she didn't have time for an explanation.
She didn't know how else to call a quick end to the game they were or weren't playing. “Red.”
Not only did he release her wrists, he took a step back. That turned out to be fortuitous. She shot out of bed and through the bathroom door in record time. Fortunately she managed to slam it closed before she lost her lunch.
When she was finished, she stumbled to the sink to brush her teeth and wash the clamminess from her face and neck. The cool water always felt good.
The door's handle jiggled, but it didn't turn. Thank goodness the door had locked when it closed. She couldn't do that trick again if she tried it a hundred more times. Malcolm pounded on the wood. “Darcy? What's wrong? Are you sick?”
“Fine.” Her voice sounded weak and thin, but it had enough volume to carry. “I'm going to take a shower.”
He jiggled the handle again. “Open the door, Darcy. You don't get to call red and then disappear to take a shower.”
She patted her face dry and opened the door. Light from the bathroom spilled into the bedroom, illuminating how handsome he looked in a black suit. She braced her hand against the jamb. “It was either that or throw up on your nice suit.”
Those warm brown eyes roamed her body from head to toe. No doubt she looked pale. It always took her an hour or so to recover to the point she didn't look in the mirror and cringe. “You're sick. You never nap this late in the day, and that's twice you've...” He trailed off and gestured toward the toilet.
Though the nausea had been an evening companion, she didn't always vomit. She leaned to glance around him at the digital clock. It showed less than an hour before they had to leave the house if they wanted to get to Victor's on time. It wasn't polite to show up late at these formal occasions.
“I'm feeling a little under the weather, but I'll be okay tonight. Just don't be shocked if I don't eat much.” She stepped back into the bathroom and put her hand on the door to indicate she was about to close it. “Now if you don't mind, I need a shower.”
The argument in his head played out across his face, but at last he nodded. “I'll be downstairs.”
Darcy had never showered and dressed so quickly. Her hair wasn't going to do anything elegant without a lot of work, and she only had time to blow it out. So she opted to use barrettes to sweep it out of her face and let it fall freely between her shoulder blades.
The black dress wasn't new, but it looked good. The straps that went over her shoulders crossed in back. The neckline scooped down, but not too deep, and the long skirt was split up both sides to the knees.
Keith whistled as she came down the stairs. She hadn't known he was in the house. Dressed in a sharp suit, hair cropped close to his head, he looked exactly like Hollywood's idea of a hot federal agent that nobody should mess with. “That'll go great with some jewelry I have for you to wear.”
“She's not wearing a camera or a wire. If we're caught, then I don't want anything implicating her.”
Darcy turned to see Malcolm standing in the hall. Determination glittered in his eyes, and his hungry gaze roamed over her curves.
“Attending with you implicates me. I don't mind wearing whatever it takes to find Scott's killer.” She closed the distance. Her heels gave her enough height to kiss him. She studied his lips, but she didn't take advantage of the opportunity. She was no longer half-asleep, and there was too much at stake.
He didn't reach for her and he didn't move closer, but he did hold her prisoner with his gaze. “We're going to talk tonight, Darcy. We're going to clear the air.”
Trust would take time to reestablish, but she agreed it was time to talk. Over the past few days, she had done more soul-searching than she had originally anticipated. She straightened his tie, her hands steady despite her nerves, and nodded. “I've done a lot of thinking about us. We'll talk tonight, when this is all over.”
As she finished with his tie, Malcolm took each of her hands in his and kissed her fingertips. “Darcy, there's very little chance this will come to a head tonight. I'm looking to embed myself deeper into Snyder's organization. This investigation could take months.”
That might be his goal, but hers was much different, and it would probably blow his operation to bits. She didn't care about the money laundering or pump-and-dump schemes. The more she turned the situation over in her head, the more she could see this from Malcolm's point of view. If Victor hadn't killed Scott himself, he'd ordered that slimeball Halter to do it.
He set his jaw hard. “If anything happens, you abandon me at once. You didn't know. You're appalled that I could be so disloyal. Whatever angle you have to play to stay safe, you play it.”
She set her jaw to match and shook her head. “I'll play whatever angle I have to play to get him to admit to what he did to Scott. Agent Legato, you and I are going into this with different goals. I'll help you with yours, but I'll never forgive you if you stand in the way of mine. I can take care of myself.”
He closed in on her, pinning her against the railing with his proximity. “It's my job to take care of you. This isn't open for discussion, and disobeying me will have unpleasant consequences.”
She disregarded his threat. It didn't matter what he did to her afterward. It only mattered that she found out once and for all what happened to Scott. The stage fright she normally experienced was absent. Keith stepped forward and ran his finger over her left shoulder strap, effectively breaking Malcolm's spell. “I have something that'll
go here. It'll give us a visual. I'm going to replace your barrettes with jewelry to match. Those will have directional mikes that'll pick up conversations going on around you.”
She nodded. She'd wear anything to gain justice for Scott. “Okay. What should I be looking for?”
“Stay close to Snyder, but take your cues from Malcolm.” He clipped a thin brooch onto her shoulder strap just above her breast, and then he worked on her hair. “We'll have a team in the street. We won't be able to get onto the estate, so backup will be about four minutes away.”
Malcolm fit an earpiece into his ear. His hair was just long enough to provide cover. Then he slid a small gun into a holster around his calf and a knife into another holster on his other ankle. “Darcy, I expect you to run at the first sign of trouble.”
She had no intention of running until she got Victor to admit to what he'd done to Scott, but she just nodded at Malcolm and flashed her most benign smile. “Yes, Sir.”
He smiled tightly, not fooled for a second. Darcy looked away. She could almost detect the delicate tingle of butterflies brushing against her skin, and she couldn't decide if the feeling was disconcerting or soothing.
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
Chapter Sixteen
Victor's estate had never held any special charm for Darcy. She always wondered why anyone would want to live in a house so large it would incur roaming fees to call someone at the other end.
He lived in an exclusive neighborhood in a bedroom community southwest of Ann Arbor. Malcolm handed his keys to the valet and offered his arm to Darcy. She wrapped her arm under his, laying her hand loosely on his bicep. It flexed under her soft grip, and she didn't wonder how a computer geek came by such substantial muscles.
They arrived in time for cocktails. Victor greeted her with a kiss on each cheek. He shook Malcolm's hand and clapped him on the shoulder.
“I'm glad you changed your mind. Darcy, you do so much to benefit this community. It's okay to take some time to enjoy yourself. Come, I have a mai tai for you.” He gestured to his wet bar.
She favored Victor with a sweet smile. “I promised Theo I would go virgin tonight. We have plans later. You understand.” She refused to look at Malcolm to see his reaction to her response.
Shaking his head, he lifted a brow at Malcolm. “Stevenson, what's your poison?”
Darcy recognized several of the couples in the room, so she let the men go off to get drinks while she mingled. Keith had told her to stay close to Victor, but she figured that didn't include the times Malcolm was with him. Though she had been in the room a dozen times, she looked at it with new eyes. Somewhere in this massive house, information hid that could lead to the capture of Scott's killer.
She did what she normally did at Victor's dinner parties. She conversed with a variety of people on a variety of topics and ate a decadent meal. For once that week, her stomach cooperated and let her enjoy the fruits of the personal chef's labor. Still, she was careful to not overdo it.
Afterward they retired to the library and the conservatory for more drinks and conversation. Darcy stuck to sparkling cider. Malcolm didn't comment, and she noticed he didn't actually do more than take a few sips from each glass of wine given to him.
Malcolm left her side often. She suspected he was searching the house for evidence, but she didn't know what he was looking for or where he searched. She also didn't know what he hoped to accomplish without a search warrant. Far better to take her with him so she could rifle through drawers and cabinets. That way it wouldn't get thrown out of court. Because, really, he couldn't control her actions.
She did her best to keep attention to his absences to a minimum. Toward the end of the evening, she was nearly dead on her feet. A discreet glance at the clock showed the time to be just past eleven, two hours past her recently acquired bedtime. She leaned against the edge of the wing chair behind her and listened to a woman whose name she couldn't recall. She was the wife of one of the vice presidents. If Darcy wasn't so tired, she would be able to remember the woman's name.
A hand slid around her waist to rest on her hip. She leaned into Malcolm's body. His touch was so familiar, so good. It felt as if nothing was different.
“Are you all right, sweetheart?”
Her heart beat faster to hear him call her by that name again, but doubt niggled at the back of her mind. She smiled up at him. “Fine. Just tired.”
The woman offered her hand to Malcolm. “Mr. Stevenson, I'm Marlene Shaw. My husband, Jack, has raved about you so often lately that I feel like you're a regular dinner guest.”
Malcolm slid his arm from behind Darcy and greeted the lady. “It's great to meet you, Marlene. Jack has told me a lot about you. Please call me Theo.”
Now the woman's identity clicked. Darcy had worked with Jack briefly several years ago on a project for Victor. She couldn't recall him ever mentioning his wife, but he had several photographs of her, one a wedding portrait that had to be a couple of decades old, on his desk.
Marlene leaned closer to Darcy, making it obvious she wanted to impart confidential information, probably juicy gossip. “It gets better in the second trimester. The fatigue disappears almost overnight, and you feel like you have boundless energy. Take advantage of it to get everything ready for the baby before you feel like an elephant tromping around the house. Are you experiencing any other symptoms?”
Horrified, Darcy stared at Marlene. What possessed people to ask such personal questions? Nobody but Amy knew about the pregnancy, so Marlene's assurance was based on pure assumption. Being tired late at night didn't mean someone was pregnant.
The silence stretched on for too long. Marlene looked from Darcy to Malcolm and back to Darcy. “I'm sorry. Sometimes I say things I shouldn't.” She looked at Malcolm again, squeezed Darcy's wrist reassuringly, and fled.
Malcolm wrapped his hand around her arm, an iron shackle she had no hope of escaping, and stalked from the room, dragging her after him. With the fatigue temporarily displaced by anxiety, she lengthened her stride to keep up with him and to lessen the appearance that he was taking her away for a private argument.
He pulled her into a vacant room and turned on the lights. Darcy recognized Victor's home office. She stood in the center of the room and watched as he closed the door, sealing her fate. She hadn't wanted to tell him like this. After last weekend, she wasn't sure what to say or how he'd take the news.
He stalked toward her, a man on a mission. He removed the discreet earpiece that let him communicate with Keith, turned it off, and slipped it into his pocket.
Darcy held up a hand. “This isn't something we have to talk about right now.”
“No.” He shook his head.
She didn't know if he was agreeing with her, denying the pregnancy, or something altogether different. He continued closer. His predatory bearing made her heart beat from somewhere in her throat. She swallowed, urging it down, and backed up. When her behind hit the rear of a sofa, she was forced to stop moving.
Malcolm rested his hands on top of the couch, parking them on either side of her body and caging her in his arms. His dark eyes, less than six inches from her face, glittered with a dangerous light. “You're pregnant?”
Unable to speak, she nodded.
He closed his eyes and exhaled harshly. She could feel the tension radiating from his body.
“I don't expect anything from you.” Until that moment, she had actually expected something from him. Whether or not they decided to stay together, she never took him for the kind of man to walk away from his child. She was more than a little miffed at his reaction.
His eyes popped open, and she saw layers of anger and fear behind the steely determination. “You don't expect anything from me?”
She shook her head slowly, not certain it was the right thing to do.
“This is my child, Darcy. My baby. Our baby. And you don't expect anything from me?” He spoke in a low tone that only underscored his vehemence.
She lifted her hands to his chest and shoved hard, but he didn't move an inch. “I only meant that I'm having this baby no matter what happens between us. If this isn't what you want, I'll understand. I'll resent you and hate you, but I'll understand.”
Stiffness left his shoulders, and he gathered her in his arms. “I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart.” He smoothed his hand over her hair and massaged the base of her neck. “This explains why you've been throwing up and why you're tired and moody.”
She tried to jerk from his arms at that crack, but he held her tighter. “Finding out the man I love isn't who I thought he was definitely has something to do with all those things.”
He smiled. She felt his grin stretch against her temple, and he peppered kisses there. “But seeing me doesn't make you sick, and you're not so depressed that you just lie in bed all the time. I love you, Darcy. I know this is fast, but I think we'll make good parents. My family is going to love you so much.”
He sounded too satisfied with himself. Still, she had needed to hear him say those things. She needed to know he still loved her. Since her arms were pinned between them, she couldn't hug him back. She rested her cheek on his shoulder, closed her eyes, and basked in his embrace. “This doesn't mean everything is okay between us.”
“But it will be.” He kissed her temple again, and then he trailed his lips down the side of her face. “It will be.” Then he released her and took a step back. Tilting his head to the side, he studied her critically. “I'm going to have to rethink how I'll punish you for this.”
Partly shocked and partly worried, she put her hand over her heart. “I haven't given you back the right to punish me, and besides, I've done nothing needing punishment. You, on the other hand, you lied to me.” She jabbed her finger at his chest to emphasize her point.
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