by Sara Fawkes
I stood my ground as he approached, leaning against the car for support. My legs were jelly, threatening to collapse from the fear, but I faced him head-on and tried to emulate Jeremiah’s stoic stare. No mean feat, especially when he finally stopped close enough to for me to touch. He examined me silently and I met his gaze, my breaths coming quick, but I was unwilling to back down anymore.
“It’s rare I actually meet one of my targets face-to-face,” he said finally, quirking one eyebrow. “Of course, it’s also rare that they see me and live to tell the tale. Truth be told, I prefer it this way, watching a person’s face in those final moments.” He chuckled, the sound hollow of any real mirth. “Of course, you were never a target until you survived my poison. Tricky girl.”
The fake smile on his face didn’t reach his eyes and sent a shudder through me. His eyes were dead, dark pools that held nothing else beneath. I struggled to keep myself under control, clamping my lips tightly together so I wouldn’t make a sound. As determined as I was not to beg, the prospect of dying left me faint and I clung to the car mirror to keep from collapsing.
“Not that I don’t enjoy our time together…”—he glanced at his watch—“but we have less than ten minutes until the cavalry arrives. Six, if they have a method in place for physically tracking either one of you that I don’t know about. These factories are a maze, tough to get through even with a map.” The assassin reached behind him and pulled out a black gun, caressing the barrel with his free hand without taking his eyes off me. He saw me watching and shrugged. “It was a blow to my professional ego when both of you survived my poisoning attempt. That won’t be a trick I use again, but still, I need to correct my mistakes.”
I kept my eyes on the other man’s, trying desperately to control my breathing. A dozen scenarios flitted through my head on how to get away: hand-to-hand combat, running away, diving off into the water. In every scenario however, I lost. Badly. The quiet confidence in his face told me everything I needed to know, that his skills in pursuit of prey were far greater than my skills at fleeing, especially out here in the open. A detached numbness spread through my body as I watched him prepare his weapon. Is this really it? Am I merely ending up as bait to lure Jeremiah to his death?
A narrow tube appeared in one of the man’s hands, and he casually connected it to the end of the gun, spinning it in place. He cocked his head to one side and studied me. “You’re very brave,” he commented. “Most targets would be begging for their lives right about now.”
I’d do it if I thought it would mean anything. The wind picked up from the water, waves crashing into the wooden supports beneath us, shaking the ground beneath my feet. My own shivering ceased with the numb realization that I was about to die.
“I prefer it face-to-face like this,” he continued, “but most people run away and I have to shoot them in the back. Annoying business, that—almost takes away the dignity and pleasure.” He raised his weapon and leveled it with my face. “Don’t worry, my dear, you’ll see your beloved billionaire again soo—”
Something whistled past my ear and the assassin spun around, collapsing onto the ground. I stared down dumbly as he thrashed at my feet, grunting in obvious pain and holding his shoulder, then common sense flooded back with a vengeance. I spun to flee but hadn’t taken a step yet when a hand grabbed my ankle and I toppled to the ground. I managed to catch myself, skinning my knees for the first time since childhood, but was immensely grateful that Ethan had bound my hands in front of me. I squeaked as my hair was grabbed and I was hauled backward and over the assassin until I was all but laying on top of him.
“That son of a bitch,” the assassin muttered, and I didn’t know who he was talking about until a small device appeared in his hand. It had two small buttons, one blue and one red, and looked much like an electronic car key. I realized, horrified, it was probably the one to detonate the bomb around Celeste.
“No!” I grabbed his hand, wrestling for the controls. Something had obviously gone wrong—Ethan had betrayed him, or the cavalry had arrived early on its own—but it didn’t matter; I couldn’t allow him to press that button. All I could see was Celeste’s panicked expression when she saw me, her cries not to leave me even as Ethan hustled her away, and I couldn’t think of letting her die. Not without a fight.
The assassin hadn’t expected my resistance, and I almost pried the device from his grip before he fought back. One of his arms was all but useless—blood poured from a large wound in the man’s shoulder—so between his wounded arm and my cuffed hands, we were almost evenly matched. I also realized quickly he was using me as a shield against the new sniper and didn’t want to compromise that, but he still looped one leg around my waist and jerked me down, trying to wrench the controller from my grip.
A flash of triumph shot through me as I snagged the small plastic device from his hand, but before I could throw it into the water nearby, an elbow exploded across the side of my face. Pain exploded through my skull and, stunned, I hesitated too long and his hand was back over mine, trying to pry the controller from my fingers. Ears ringing, I tried to hold on to it but another elbow, this time to my chest, knocked the wind out of my lungs. Dazed, I struggled to breathe and faltered long enough for him to wrest the small implement free from my grip. Anger and triumph contorted his face, and I watched helplessly as he pressed the red button.
Nothing happened.
He blinked, then looked down at the controls. His finger slid again over the red button, but whatever he was expecting clearly didn’t materialize if his expression said anything. “Well, fuck,” he said, shoulders slumping in defeat.
I snapped my head back, catching my skull against his nose and mouth. The impact again stunned me, but his grip loosened and I rolled sideways away from him. Our eyes met as his good arm raised up, pointing the gun directly at me.
Then the back of his head exploded, and he collapsed back to the asphalt.
Body quaking, I struggled for breath but couldn’t take my eyes off the grisly sight. Hysterics threatened, sobbing breaths forcing themselves from my lips as I pushed myself upright, chest aching from where his elbow had impacted. Tears, however, didn’t come; a pervasive numbness overwhelmed me and all I could do was stare at the slack face of the assassin, the hole in his skull, and the…the mess behind his head. I think I’m going to be sick.
I didn’t know how long I sat there, staring at the bloody mess before me, before I heard car tires approaching our location. Too numb to move my head, I nevertheless watched dark sedans and SUVs move in, surrounding us on the narrow waterway road. People exited the vehicles, milling about the scene and wearing the familiar dark uniforms I’d seen for nearly a week now. None of Jeremiah’s people approached me, although one man did gently pick up the remote that had skittered out of the assassin’s hand when he’d been shot. As much as I wanted to say something, tell them what it was, I couldn’t take my gaze off the assassin’s face, the man’s expression forever frozen in astonishment.
An unfamiliar whooping sound drew closer, and I finally turned my head to see a helicopter appear through the fog over the water. A tall man stood on one of the skids, and as it approached land’s edge he leaped off, landing effortlessly and running straight toward me. The long rifle hooked across his shoulders bounced with his loping gait, and when he came abreast of me he fell to his knees and immediately folded me into his arms.
My body shook, the action uncontrollable and fierce, and a sob burst its way out as I finally gave way to the emotions I’d kept bottled inside. I clung to Jeremiah as he picked me up gently, keeping me pressed firmly against his body, and loaded us inside one of the waiting SUVs.
The ride home was quiet, for which I was eternally grateful. Jeremiah kept me on his lap, his hands caressing my back and arms in a rhythmic pattern that helped calm me. There was no demand in his touch; perhaps a touch of possessive protection but I desperately needed that form of safety. The earlier numbness had worn off but I was too tired to
cry or scream. All I wanted was to curl up in a dark room, safely away from society, and try to forget the past several hours.
My brain, however, kept reliving horrible scenes: the guard dying in front of me at the house, Anya’s final moments, Celeste’s wails as she was carried away to a safety I’d been denied, the assassin’s head exploding in a splash of gore. When I’d found a drop of what I thought was blood on one sleeve while in the SUV with Jeremiah, I’d almost gone crazy trying to strip out of the contaminated clothing. Only Jeremiah’s deep voice, his hard hands deftly peeling the offending layers from me, kept me from falling into the hysterics in which I so desperately wanted to indulge.
Any hope of solitude, however, was dashed when I saw the vehicles lining the front of the mansion, unfamiliar shapes and uniforms standing guard at the entrance. I whimpered when Jeremiah’s car door opened, not wanting to be in the middle of yet another circus, but only clung to his neck as he carried me out of the vehicle. His lips grazed my ear, breath warm along my skin as he asked, “Can you walk on your own?”
The urge to answer no, to stay safely against him as long as possible, was a strong temptation. I nodded, however, a spark of independence goading me to take control of myself. Jeremiah still didn’t release me for several more seconds as we walked through the unfamiliar crowd, then he gently set me to my feet once we were inside the entryway. I teetered for a moment, keeping my grip tight on his arm, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Who are these people?” I said finally, clearing my throat. My voice sounded thick to my own ears, likely due to my earlier crying.
“They’re government officials, here to take my brother into custody.”
Jeremiah’s lips were a thin line and I couldn’t tell whether or not he approved, but the idea of Lucas going to jail was disheartening. In the lobby, the scarred man was staring at a nearby body bag, a tired look on his face. Lucas’s gaze followed the body as two men in Coroner uniforms hefted it up and eased it outside, then he looked up at me. Relief flashed in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re safe, my dear,” he said, giving me a small nod. “There are already too many casualties in this debacle.”
“Thank you for your help,” I replied, sighing. “I wish it didn’t have to end this way for you.”
“It was the risk I took in coming here.” Lucas hitched a shoulder, one side of his mouth lifting in a smirk. “I appreciate your concern however. It’s…sweet.”
I frowned, trying to determine whether the statement was a compliment or an insult, and my dilemma seemed to amuse him. “Good-bye, fair lady,” he said as the officials in suits tugged him out of the house. “Hopefully we will meet again soon.”
Jeremiah stepped sideways, blocking the path through the door. “Brother,” he started, but Lucas shook his head.
“Don’t. Whether you’re apologizing or condemning me, I don’t want to hear it. The truth is out and now we each live with our own consequences.”
The brothers stared at one another for a moment, two matching profiles against the fading light outside. Finally, Jeremiah stepped out of the way, and Lucas was led silently out to the waiting vehicle. I watched, disappointed, as the car containing him and the various officials rolled out toward the main gate.
Jeremiah looked around the lobby. “Where’s my mother?” he asked a nearby guard.
“The officials took a brief statement, then said she was free to go, sir.”
The CEO’s lips thinned very briefly, and he sighed. I frowned; I’d hoped for more from the odious woman, but I guessed the habits of a lifetime were difficult to give up. I put a comforting hand on Jeremiah’s arm, then tensed as I recognized another familiar figure walking toward us.
Ethan had a wary look on his face but, to my surprise, he wasn’t wearing any handcuffs. Celeste was nowhere to be seen, and while I very much wanted to know if she was all right, I kept silent. “I’m glad you’re okay,” the bald man said to me.
I moved closer to Jeremiah, suspicion and mistrust echoing through my brain. Despite knowing why he kidnapped me, the impossible situation into which he’d been placed, I couldn’t bring myself to forgive his actions. Seeing him now only brought back memories of a cloth over my mouth, the sickly aroma of the sedative seeping down my throat, and the terror of him abandoning me to my fate.
“Thank you,” Jeremiah said from beside me, his arm pulling me tighter against his body. His body remained stiff as he addressed the bodyguard. “This could have turned out much different without your help.”
Ethan nodded. “I managed to find a heavy freezer inside one of the buildings. It kept any signal from getting in long enough for me to disarm the bomb around Celeste.” His gaze turned to me. “I hear I have you to thank for the extra delay.”
Confused, I turned to look at Jeremiah. He helped? How?
“The Kosovo reference,” Jeremiah said, answering my silent question. “Our informant on that mission led us into a trap, giving us faulty intel that got several men killed. However, he dialed the new coordinates on his cell phone so we could complete the mission anyway.” His powerful gaze never left the bald bodyguard’s. “I’m glad the outcome was better this time around.”
Ethan shrugged, but his eyes crinkled in a wince. “Celeste isn’t happy with how I handled the situation.” He glanced at me. “Leaving you behind with that assassin might be the one thing that costs me my marriage.”
Part of me desperately wanted to comfort him—I’d seen firsthand how much he adored his wife—but I couldn’t get any platitudes through my lips. It was all too fresh, too many bad memories and sensory links to work through before I could ever feel comfortable around the man. I think he saw that because regret etched across his face. “I wish I’d seen another way,” he said, eyes on me.
Before I could react, Jeremiah stepped forward. His arm was already moving and his fist cracked along Ethan’s jaw with a sickening snap. The bald man staggered back, falling to the ground, as Jeremiah towered his prone figure. “You’re fired.”
A protest lodged in my throat as I stared between the two men. Something silent passed between them, then Ethan nodded. “I expected worse.”
Jeremiah stepped forward, extending his hand, and helped Ethan to his feet. “You still have my respect, but I can’t afford to trust you again.” He stepped away. “Get your things from the bunkhouse and be off the property in half an hour; we’ll deal with the business end of things later.”
Ethan nodded soberly then turned to me. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for how I acted.”
“Your wife was kidnapped,” I replied, surprising myself. “You did what you thought you had to do, and managed to alert the cavalry to rescue me.” I struggled to find the words to continue, still conflicted about the day’s events. Was I really forgiving the man? “I hope you and Celeste can work things out,” I finished lamely, unable and unwilling to absolve him yet. His presence still made me nervous, and I shifted closer to Jeremiah.
Ethan saw the movement and sadness flickered through his eyes. “Take care of him,” he told me, the statement a surprise, then turned and walked back out the door.
I peered up at Jeremiah who was watching the entryway his old friend had just exited through. He must have felt my gaze because he turned his head to look at me. My lips parted as I was struck yet again by how beautiful he was, and lifted one hand to caress his face. One large hand slipped up and covered mine, and he placed a soft kiss on my palm that sent sparks through my body. Without thinking, I threw my arms around his torso and buried my head in his chest, tamping down the sobs that threatened to form. I’m safe.
And I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I was irrevocably, madly in love with the man before me. The emotion burst through me, leaving me lightheaded at the realization that I was head-over-heels for the hard yet tender man I’d met only a short time before. Even the logical side of my brain, the part that had railed against such a silly notion before, was in silent agreement.
Jeremiah’s arm came around my shoul
ders and he kissed the top of my head just as another guard came through the door. I peeked sideways to see that the younger man looked nervous. “Um, sir…”
“Yes, Andrews?” Jeremiah replied, keeping me tight against his body.
Andrews swallowed, seeming reluctant to speak. “Government officials just arrived at the gate,” he finally said, placing his hands behind his back and standing straighter. The military stance seemed to give him more confidence. “They’re here to collect your brother.”
I blinked, confused, then looked up at Jeremiah. His face was blank for a moment, then he began to curse.
Ducking my head against Jeremiah’s torso, I hid my smile at Lucas’s deception and marveled at the day’s events.
5
The restraints around my wrists pulled tight, the cool leather holding me fast. The restraints were supple, designed not to cause any irritation, but I’d had them on all night and most of the morning. There was some discomfort, but I was too caught up in other sensations to really notice. Light streamed through small cracks in the heavy drapes, but the room stayed dark and secluded, the perfect getaway for what we were doing.
Jeremiah’s lips traveled up my spine, teeth grazing my naked skin as he moved back up my body. Fingers skimmed over my hips, tracing along the sides of my breasts against the mattress. My breath caught as his knee slid between my legs, and I felt his hard length press along my thigh. A hand smoothed my hair to one side as he rained kisses along my neck and up to my ear, teeth tugging gently at the cartilage. My hips rose in silent supplication; he nipped my earlobe but obliged my need, slipping easily inside me.
I sighed, my eyes fluttering closed. Our lovemaking had been frenzied and passionate before, but now, hours later, the edge had worn off and it was much easier to enjoy ourselves. Jeremiah insisted I stay bound to the headboard, subject to his every desire, and it never occurred to me to deny that demand. His authority and domination helped chase away the bad memories; I was safe, secure in his grasp, and focusing on that allowed me to enjoy the pleasure of the moment.
