Ashes, Ashes, They All Fall Dead

by LENA DIAZ,

  Tessa, sweetheart, I could have grown up bitter about being abandoned by my mother. I could have been rebellious and blamed my actions on the bad blood running through my veins. But my father is a decent man, an honorable man. His blood too runs through my veins. I chose not to let my mother’s bad blood rule my life. I chose to live the kind of life my father would be proud of. And I challenge you to do the same. Don’t let your father win. You have your mother’s blood in you too. She fought like a lioness to protect her cubs. She fought to the death, and because of her honor and her love, you’re alive. You’re a good, decent person. Live the life you choose, not what was chosen for you.

  P.S. Just to make sure you have all the facts, I looked up the colloquial definition of cougar. Apparently I need to be at least eight years younger than you for you to qualify. I’m only six years younger, so you can’t throw that label around anymore.

  P.P.S. Madison was being her usual nosy self (ouch, she just hit me) and read over my shoulder while I was looking up the word cougar. She told me you’re actually a puma, which apparently is any woman who likes a younger man. But since there’s no age difference on that definition, I suppose it could apply to someone who dated a man even a week younger than her. Are you really going to let an age difference of one week matter? (Hypothetically speaking.)

  Tessa smiled at Matt’s outrageous statements. He should have been a litigator like his father.

  She sat on the bench for a long time, thinking about everything Matt had said, about everything that had happened over the past couple of weeks, and about her career. She sat until the shadows grew long and the sun began its journey across the other side of the sky.

  For the first time since finding out about her father and brother, the guilt and fear inside her began to ease. Matt was right. She wasn’t responsible for the blood that flowed through her veins. But she was responsible for the actions she made, for the decisions that affected not only her life but the lives of those around her. It was time to make her own choices about how to live her life instead of allowing others to make the choices for her.

  MATT CHECKED HIS watch and shifted against the oak tree beside his brother. Over half the FBI agents and their families had already left the park, including Pierce and Madison, who’d made the rounds showing off their newborn daughter an hour earlier. The pony rides were over. The bouncy houses had been taken down. And the tables that had once been full of barbeque were nearly empty. He was a fool to have stayed this long.

  She obviously wasn’t coming.

  He checked his watch again.

  Devlin gave him a sideways glance. “If you want to go, I’m more than ready to play chauffer again.”

  “You were ready the moment we got here. Why are you always so nervous around law enforcement?”

  He glanced away. “I’m not nervous. I’m bored. You know, the cemetery is only a few minutes from here.”

  Devlin was right. If Tessa was going to Casey’s get-together, she’d have been here a long time ago. All the research Matt had done, all the data he’d compiled, and even the silly attempt to sway Tessa by teasing her about cougars and pumas had been for nothing. She’d chosen her future and it didn’t include him.

  He straightened, then froze.

  Devlin followed his gaze, his dark brows arching in surprise. “When did she get here?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Near another stand of oak trees less than thirty feet away, talking to Casey and half a dozen other agents, was Tessa. Any remaining hope Matt might have had evaporated when she looked right at him, nodded as if he was nothing more than a stranger, and went back to her conversation with the agents.

  “Devil?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You still have that hundred-proof rotgut you call whiskey at your place?”

  “You don’t call me Devil for nothing. I’ve got three bottles left. Why?”

  “Because I’m about to get roaring drunk. Let’s go.” He shoved away from the tree and headed toward Devlin’s truck in the parking lot. Hampered by the sling on his right arm, he awkwardly used his left hand to open the passenger door.

  “Matt, wait!”

  He stiffened at the sound of Tessa’s voice behind him.

  “Matt, turn around. Please.”

  He didn’t want to look at her. He didn’t want to look into those beautiful sea-green eyes or see that luscious red hair while she told him they could be “friends.” Maybe he really was the immature youth she’d always thought him to be, because right now he had no desire to be her friend. Hell, he’d probably have to move away from Savannah, because the day he saw her with some other guy, he’d probably kill him.

  He was about to step around the door and get in when it slammed shut in front of him. Tessa. She leaned against the door, her perfect brows knitting. “Is something wrong?”

  “Nothing a bottle of whiskey won’t cure,” he growled.

  “What?”

  He blew out an exasperated breath. “Spare me the let’s-be-friends speech. I get it. You’re moving on. I’m moving on too. Get in the truck, Devlin. Let’s go.”

  Tessa put her hands on her hips. “Make one more move toward the truck, Devlin, and I’ll shoot out your damn tires.”

  Devlin coughed, looking suspiciously like he wanted to laugh. “Sorry, Matt. Those tires are expensive.” He moved back from the driver’s-side door.

  Tessa directed a glare at Matt. “What do you mean you’re moving on?”

  He frowned down at her, wondering what kind of game she was playing.

  “Mr. Buchanan?”

  Matt looked past Tessa, surprised to realize the agents she’d been with earlier were all standing behind her. The agent who’d spoken looked vaguely familiar.

  “What do you want?” Matt demanded.

  The agent’s face turned a dull shade of red. “I want to apologize for the prank I pulled on Tessa. I promise it won’t happen again.”

  Prank? Matt narrowed his eyes as recognition stole over him. This was the agent who’d seen him save Tessa from a fall back in the South Carolina police department. “Carter, right?”

  He nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m the one who left the pacifier on Agent James’s desk. I didn’t mean anything by it. It was supposed to be funny, but Agent James just explained to me that it wasn’t taken that way. I promise I won’t do anything like that again. I apologize if I offended you.”

  Matt shook his head, not sure what to think of this bizarre conversation. “Why the hell would I take offense? You should apologize to Tessa, not me.”

  The man scratched his chin, a look of confusion passing over his face. “I did. And she told me I should apologize to you too. I think her exact words were that if I pulled a stunt like that again, you would probably break both my legs.”

  As one, all the agents surrounding him nodded, as if to underscore what they’d heard.

  Casey shot Matt a grin.

  Tessa arched a delicate brow.

  “Why, exactly, would I break his legs, Tessa?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Because you care about me, you stubborn man.” She moved closer, stood on tiptoe, and pulled his head down. Then, right in front of half her office, she kissed him. Matt was so stunned, he didn’t respond.

  For about a second.

  After that, the feel of her luscious curves and her sweet, hot mouth moving against his sent the blood racing to another part of his anatomy that didn’t give a damn why she was kissing him. All he wanted to do was kiss her back. He deepened the kiss and slid his one good hand down her back to the upper curve of her bottom.

  Laughter and whistles had his eyes flying open. He’d totally forgotten they had an audience. Tessa grinned up at him, which confused his oxygen-starved brain even more. The Tessa he knew would have blushed and hurried to put distance between them because of her co-workers.

  Matt frowned at his unwelcome audience. “Devil, get rid of them.”

  Devlin cracked his knuckles. “My pleasure
.”

  Casey rolled his eyes. “Come on, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s give these two some privacy.” His voice was ripe with laughter as he led his agents a short distance away. Devlin followed, looking ridiculously disappointed that he hadn’t had to fight anyone.

  Tessa tried to kiss Matt again, but he pulled her arms down from around his neck and took a step back. “Tessa, what are you doing?”

  She winked, something he’d never, ever seen her do. “I’m embracing my inner puma.”

  Her words sent a surge of hope through him, but the memory of her calling him “pathetic” at the airport, and her shunning him when they’d escaped the mine, were still too recent, too raw, for him to trust her now.

  She must have sensed the struggle inside him because her smile faded and her eyes clouded over. “Matt, I know I hurt you. And I’m so, so sorry. But I’m here now. Doesn’t that count for something?”

  He wanted to pull her against him, to kiss away the worried look on her face. But if she rejected him again, he didn’t think he could survive. He looked past her to Casey and the others.

  “You realize your fellow agents, including your boss, are watching us?”

  She stepped closer, until her breasts brushed against his chest. “Yes. I do.”

  He drew an unsteady breath. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

  She slowly shook her head. “No. It doesn’t.” She smoothed her fingers down the side of his face, then played with the hair at the back of his collar. Then she kissed his neck.

  He drew in a sharp breath. Focus, focus. “You . . . read the research information I gave you?”

  “Every word. Three times.”

  He wanted her so badly he almost gave in, right then. But he didn’t want any misunderstandings between them. “Tessa, I need you to be extremely clear because I sure as hell am not thinking very clearly right now.” His voice was raspy, raw. “Why, exactly, are you here?”

  She laughed and pulled back to look at him. “I want to start over. I want to date you, Mr. Buchanan.”

  The sharp edge of disappointment sliced through him. “Start over?”

  She nodded. “We’ve never dated. We went from not liking each other to—”

  “I’ve always liked you.”

  She swallowed, hard, and her gaze dropped to his mouth. “Okay. We went from me not liking you to jumping into bed at warp speed.”

  He leaned down, closer, closer. “Nothing wrong with warp speed,” he whispered. “I like warp speed.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with impulse power every once in a while either.”

  He laughed. How could he doubt her now? She was the perfect woman for him, able to quote Star Wars and Star Trek. This time he was the one who kissed her.

  When he pulled back, she was clinging to him.

  “You okay, baby? You seem to be having trouble breathing,” he teased.

  “Don’t call me baby.”

  “Okay, sweetheart.” He kissed the side of her neck.

  She shivered. “Matt?”

  “Hmm?”

  “About that dating thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “Can we start right now?”

  “That depends.”

  She drew back, suddenly looked worried again. “On what?”

  “On exactly what you mean by ‘starting over.’ Do we get to skip first base?”

  Her mouth curved into a sexy grin that drained the last of the oxygen from his brain.

  “Baby, we get to skip all the bases.”

  He grabbed her hand and they ran toward her car, leaving a trail of laughter behind them.

  Can’t get enough of Lena Diaz’s heart-stopping

  Nursery Rhymes series?

  Keep reading for an excerpt from

  SIMON SAYS DIE

  available now from Avon Impulse.

  An Excerpt from

  SIMON SAYS DIE

  Prologue

  * * *

  FEAR HAS A smell—sharp, tangy, with a biting edge—like sweat, but more intimate, more powerful and addictive than any drug.

  Simon was an addict, and it had been too long, far too long, since he’d had his last fix.

  That was about to change.

  He stood by the computer desk and picked up the pile of paper from the printer. He ran his finger down the profile of the woman in the photograph on the first page, across the pale skin of her arms, the upper swells of her breasts. Her dark hair was silky, shiny, barely brushing her shoulders. Laughter filled her deep blue eyes, crinkling them at the corners. Who was she thinking about when she smiled that way? Someone she cared about? Someone who cared about her?

  “Simon, was there anything else you wanted me to print?”

  His gaze slid reluctantly from the photograph to the blonde, slightly overweight woman sitting at the computer. Her muddy brown eyes were framed with makeup she probably hadn’t worn in years. Her dress was bright yellow, new. She must have looked forward to tonight all week, thinking he’d invited himself to her house to finally take the next step, to become her lover.

  He was definitely ready to take the next step.

  Her hands hovered over the keyboard as she looked at him expectantly.

  “No, I have what I want.” He set the pictures back down. “You’re sure no one will be able to tell you hacked into those Web sites?”

  She grinned. “I didn’t have to hack in after all. I just created a fake profile and got some of them to friend me. From there it was easy to get access to the others, and all their information.”

  Stupid woman. “Erase the profile.”

  Her grin faded. “What’s wrong?”

  At her wary look, he forced himself to relax and give her a smile meant to charm and reassure. “I don’t want them to know. Not yet. What’s the fun of a practical joke if they find out too soon, right?”

  Her smile returned, but it wasn’t as bright as before. “Um, right.”

  He closely watched her this time, as she undid everything she’d done, deleting her profile from the site.

  When she was finished, she pushed back her chair and stood to face him. “You’ve made me curious. What kind of joke are you going to play?”

  “Curiosity can get you in trouble, my dear.”

  She gave a little laugh. “What, like curiosity killed the cat?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Actually, I was thinking more of something a bit . . . different. Have you ever played the game Simon says?”

  “Simon says?” She gave another laugh—a nervous laugh. “A child’s game. Isn’t that a bit silly for adults?”

  “Not the way I play.” His voice was deep, seductive.

  He edged behind her and she half turned, looking up at him. Her body tensed as her subconscious began to sense the danger that her conscious mind wasn’t ready to accept.

  He settled his hands on her shoulders.

  She jumped and tried to pull away. “Stop that. You’re making me nervous.”

  “Hush, now,” he whispered. “That’s not how you play the game. You can’t do anything unless Simon says you can.”

  Her swallow was so loud he could hear it. She jerked her head, looking around the room, as if she’d only just realized how alone they were, how vulnerable she was. “Wh—what does Simon say to do?” she croaked, her voice shaky.

  He leaned to the side so he could see her face. Like a frightened rabbit, staring into the eyes of the snake that is about to strike, she stood unmoving, paralyzed. He inhaled deeply, briefly closing his eyes, reveling in the scent of fear oozing out of her pores.

  Oh, he was going to enjoy this one.

  Very much.

  He squeezed her shoulder with one hand as he slid his other hand down her spine, delighting in her shiver. He reached behind his back, lifting up the edge of his jacket to pull out his knife.

  The poor little rabbit didn’t even try to get away. She stood frozen, her breaths coming out in short little bursts. He tightened his hand on her s
houlder.

  She shivered again, tensing . . . as if to run.

  Too late.

  He caressed the cold steel of the knife’s blade behind her, closing his hand around the hilt. Leaning down, closer, he softly pressed his lips against her taut cheek. Some of the fear left her eyes, replaced with a pathetic spark of hope.

  “Simon?” Her mouth curved in a tentative smile.

  He moved his lips next to her ear. “Simon says . . . die.” He plunged the knife into her back.

  Chapter One

  * * *

  FBI SPECIAL AGENT Pierce Buchanan could think of only a few of his experiences more pathetic than standing on his former lover’s front porch, waiting for her to answer the door. Like having the woman he loved dump him, as he was reaching into his pocket for an engagement ring—the same woman whose porch he was currently standing on.

  Yep. Pathetic.

  If his best friend hadn’t begged him to check on his kid sister, Pierce sure as hell wouldn’t be here right now.

  As he raised his hand to knock on Madison’s door again, a man darted around the corner of the house from the backyard and ran to the road out front. A woman with shoulder-length dark hair ran after him.

  Pierce clenched his jaw. No point in knocking again. Madison wasn’t home.

  She was chasing a man down the street.

  He narrowed his eyes. Was that the bulge of a gun beneath the edge of the man’s jacket? A sinking feeling settled in his stomach. What was she thinking? Was she trying to get herself killed?

  He vaulted over the porch railing, landing in a painful crouch on the brick walkway, three feet below. His knees throbbed in protest, an insulting reminder that a thirty-five-year-old agent shouldn’t pull stunts as if he were still a twenty-year-old kid fresh out of the academy.

  Madison didn’t react when he shouted a warning about the gun. Either she didn’t hear him, or she was too stubborn to listen.

  He’d put his money on stubborn.

  His GTO was parked down the street. His 9mm was in the glove box. But the car was in the opposite direction from where Madison was running.