by Diana Duncan
Liam swiveled. “Fan-freaking-tastic. Wonder what Abby Normal has to say now?”
“He’s probably gloating over his mass destruction of my life.”
Everything she owned was gone.
The last straw in a long, horrible day. She clutched the wheel so hard it creaked.
Liam turned to look at her. “Kate?”
Her breathing was ragged. “I. Can’t. Take. Anymore.”
“And no wonder.” He put his arm around her. “Let ‘er rip.”
Pain crashed over her. “He ... he put a bomb in my car. Burned up my Paris and Vegas apartments.”
“Don’t fight the hurt, sweetheart. Ride it out.”
At his encouragement, her words picked up speed and began to tumble over one another. “He stole my photos. Destroyed my studio and my backups. He’s annihilated everything I own except the wet clothes on my back and two pictures you saved.” A knot of tears tangled in her throat. “He’s ruined the new life I worked so hard to build. Two years of struggle and sacrifice and agony ... gone!”
“I know.” He hugged her. “I’m sorry.”
“Worse, he’s put Aubrey in jeopardy.” Though she fought it, anguish swelled, choked her. “He al-almost killed you b-because of me.”
“Hey.” His thumb caressed her nape. “O’Rourkes aren’t that easy to kill.”
She swam against the overwhelming tide, but was wrenched under. “I have no control! I can’t stop him! It’s my worst nightmare!” Tears streamed down her cheeks. Ashamed, yet unable to pull out of the treacherous spin, she buried her face in her hands.
He wrapped his arms around her, lifted her over the console and sat her sideways in his lap. As she burrowed into his shoulder, he freed her chignon and stroked her hair. “I have you. You’re safe to let go with me, Kate. C’mon, turn it all loose. You’ll feel better.”
She had no choice. Everything tore free. Wrenching sobs racked her body.
Strong and sure, Liam rode out the storm, kept her from sinking. He pressed a tender kiss to her temple. “That’s it,” he whispered. “Get rid of it. All of it.”
Two years of repressed grief spilled out. She sobbed, and he rocked her, crooning comforting nonsense as she cried.
She had no idea how long she cried before the torrent finally slowed. Breathing in choppy gasps, she clutched his damp shirt and fought to regain her composure. “Liam?”
“Right here, babe.” Deep voice calm, capable hands steady, he rubbed her back.
Despair devoured her alive. “What are we going to do?”
“Everything will be okay,” his low, mellow voice rumbled into her ear.
“How can it be?” She sniffled, hiccupped. “How are we going to save Aubrey now?”
“I won’t give up until we get your photographs back.” He eased away and cradled her face in his hand. His emerald irises blazed with determination. “I refuse to accept the alternative.”
His faith and confidence had never wavered. While she ... Humiliated by her weakness, she ducked her chin. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t do that.” His warm breath feathered over her cheek. “The fuckhead who torched your life has reason to be sorry. I’m gonna make him the sorriest son-of-a-bitch on the planet.”
“I fell apart, acted like a big baby.” She’d behaved as horribly as her hysterical sister.
“You expressed heartfelt emotion after a staggering loss. Perfectly normal.” He tipped her chin up. There was no censure on his face, only kindness. “Feel better, don’t you?”
It was the first time since the dog attack she’d unchained her feelings from their anchor. Although terrified by her loss of control, the constant, dragging weight had lifted from her shoulders. And her headache was gone. She’d released her burden to Liam, and now he carried part of it. “Surprisingly, yes.”
“Seriously overdue.” He snagged bottled water from a cup holder, broke the seal and held it to her lips. “Don’t be embarrassed by your emotions. Your family expects an iron maiden, but you have a right to your feelings. No matter what they are.”
She glanced at him, reassured by his warm compassion. What a remarkable man. Capable, self-assured, two-hundred percent alpha male, yet unashamed to openly offer tenderness and mercy. She gulped water. “Thank you.” The words seemed so inadequate.
“Anytime.” He gently wiped her damp cheeks with the hem of his damp T-shirt.
“I bawled all over you.”
“No problem.” Full lips curved into an irrepressible grin. “I was wet anyhow.”
Murphy whined from the backseat, and she half turned. “Does he need to go outside?”
“No, he whined the entire time you were crying.”
“So weird the way he seems to understand human emotions.”
“He knows you’re upset, and he’s upset.”
The dog was curled on the backseat with his muzzle between his paws, his ears lowered. When she glanced at him, he whimpered. She stared into his liquid brown eyes and could’ve sworn she saw the same compassion expressed by his owner.
Her gaze fell on the envelope, resting on the seat. “The note!” She gulped. “I don’t want to read it.”
“Give it over, Murph,” Liam said.
Murphy picked up the envelope and delicately placed it on Liam’s outstretched palm. Surprise again winged through her at the depth of the dog’s comprehension. Perhaps she’d underestimated both Liam and his partner.
Liam read the note out loud. “Katherine, my sweet flower, I’ve hidden bombs in three highly-populated locations in Las Vegas. I can detonate them at will. Play by my rules, and win back your photos. No police, no bomb squad, no public evacuations. Or the photos burn ... and thousands die. Black and white, the key is in plain sight. One man’s Silver is another’s gold. You have until midnight. Tick tock.”
Liam scowled. “Sick fuck! I’ll detonate him at will.” He shook his head. “Not exactly Yeats, is he?”
“I think better on my feet.” She flung open the car door and stepped out into the lavender twilight. Her shaky legs barely held her up.
“Likewise. And Murphy needs to stretch ... and pee.” Liam followed and let Murphy out. “Good boy, Murph. You found the bomb.” He strode around to the trunk to retrieve a knotted cloth, which he waved at Murphy.
She stepped back as the dog growled fiercely, caught and pulled on the cloth. “What’s he doing?”
“All ‘working dogs’ are trained to do the job for a reward. He loves to play tug-of-war. Tug it, Murph!” He pulled on the cloth and Murphy yanked back, nearly toppling him. Liam let go and the dog ran around on the grass, viciously shaking the toy. Liam pursed his lips. “Black, white, and gold could mean the blackjack table at the Golden Nugget.”
She stared at the note, searching for clues before it disintegrated. “Would he put something in such a visible place?”
“I think Whack Job would post a neon ad in the middle of the strip. He craves your attention.” He moved to her side, pointed. “Why is the word silver capitalized?”
“I didn’t notice that. Good catch.” The paper shriveled, dusted into ashes. “Why would silver be capitalized?”
“A place?”
“There’s a Silver Nugget, but it’s in North Las Vegas. And a Silverstone Golf Club, but this says silver and gold.”
“A name, then.”
“Silver ...” Her heartbeat fluttered. “Long John Silver? The middle of the strip. Maybe black and white doesn’t represent my photos, maybe it points to the Jolly Roger—the pirate flag!”
Liam nodded. “Gold could mean treasure. Treasure Island. Tonight’s the final show, before they close it for good.”
Her pulse tripled on a surge of fear-laced adrenaline. “He’s put ‘the key,’ near the pirate flag on the ship, and we have to retrieve it to get my photographs back?”
“One fast way to find out.” He found her phone in the car and dialed. “Con, still at the Venetian? Excellent. Confiscate a pair of binoculars and hi
ghtail it to the roof. Then call me back.” He recited her cell number before hanging up.
Less than five minutes later, the phone rang. These SWAT guys didn’t mess around. “Hey, bro,” Liam said. “Look across to Buccaneer Bay, at the pirate ship’s mast, it should be lit up and visible. See anything near the flag?” Listening, he tapped his booted foot. His brows rose. “Thanks. Stand by.” He disconnected. “Con says a small plastic packet is dangling from a rope near the top of the mast.”
She held Liam’s calm gaze, struggling to maintain her hard-won control. “What if the stalker tries to kill us again?”
“That’s a given.” He smirked. “But he’s outnumbered, three to one.”
She reached for his warm, steady hand and held on tight. “Why are you willing to risk your life to help me?”
“That little girl in the hospital needs a transplant.” He squeezed her fingers reassuringly. “And there’s a woman here who loves her. A woman with heart, and strength, and courage.”
She’d thought herself all cried out, but tears again threatened. “I don’t feel strong or brave. And my heart’s been frozen for two years.”
He wrapped his arms around her, enfolding her in warmth. “Bravery isn’t always about bringing down bad guys and disarming bombs.” He kissed her forehead. “Real courage is having the guts to climb out of bed in the morning and say, ‘I’ll start all over again today.’ You resurrected your life after it got trashed. That takes strength and heart, Kate.”
She’d thought his compassion and mercy remarkable, but his intelligence and insight were amazing. “I can’t take a chance with Aubrey’s life, or on this stalker detonating those bombs. He said no police, no bomb squad, no evacuations. We’re on our own.”
“No worries. You have your own personal bomb guy and his faithful partner.”
For once, she didn’t hesitate to share her feelings. Liam would understand. Her voice trembled. “I’m scared.”
“You think I’m not afraid when I’m faced with a jumble of wires and C4 that could turn me into pink mist? But I can’t let fear control me.” Resolve pulsed off him. “Fear is a necessary survival instinct. Accept it. Own it. Use it to give you the edge you need.”
She dragged in a deep breath. Acknowledged her fear. Commanded mastery over it.
And a miracle happened.
Icy terror surged into raging fury.
Rage felt wonderful. Empowering. The stalker might force her to play his deranged game, but she was in control of her responses. He couldn’t take that away.
“Who does he think he is? How dare he play God with Aubrey’s life? With innocent people?” she snarled. “He wants a scavenger hunt? Bring it on. We’ll find my photos. Then we’ll send him to prison, where he can play games for the rest of his sorry life. Like hide the soap with Big Bubba.”
Liam’s fierce laugh made her supremely glad he was on her side. “There ya go. Take back the power. Then, no matter what he does, we’re playing by our rules.” He glanced at his watch. The Treasure Island show will be in full swing soon.”
“How do we sneak aboard the ship without being noticed and stopped?”
“Know a fast place to rent costumes?”
“I only know of one costume shop and it’s way downtown.”
“Huh. We might have to ad lib and borrow some.”
She groaned. “I have a sinking suspicion the Gambler is about to play a wild card.”
* * *
Outside Madame Tussaud’s wax museum, Kate’s anxiety spiked. Liam had aborted his short-lived campaign to convince the night manager to rent out costumes. The thin, balding supervisor was humor impaired, and definitely not female. A Riverside, Oregon PD badge hadn’t impressed him. In fact, he’d gotten huffy, and ordered them off the premises.
Mighty O’Rourke had struck out.
Plan B: sneak in undercover, mingling with a busload of senior tourists. Murphy also slipped in amongst the throng.
The only perk of the stifling heat, their clothes were mostly dry. Once inside, no one gave them a second glance. Kate’s nerves twitched. Tourists were encouraged to “interact” with the exhibits, but she and Liam would be interacting more than management anticipated.
He assessed the restrooms, located in a central area visible to both the entrance and gift shop. “Restrooms are too public. After we procure costumes, divert to Plan C.”
Kate wrinkled her nose. “Exactly what is Plan C?”
“I’ll brief you as soon as I figure it out.”
As they rushed ahead of the seniors into the exhibit areas, she shot him a dubious glance. “Isn’t ‘borrowing’ costumes a murky area for a cop?”
“Mission Critical. Lives are at stake. We can’t attract attention and risk Psycho burning the photos or detonating bombs. The museum will be reimbursed, no harm, no foul.” Liam jogged past a familiar rock-and-roll icon in a white sequin jumpsuit. “The King on a pirate ship? Don’t they have anyone older?”
She glanced around. Keith Richards? Older and seemingly immortal. “We need to find the right section. She hurried through another doorway. “Here, in this room!”
Liam followed, and grinned. “Errol Flynn works for me.” He strode across the floor to a four-poster bed draped in opulent blue curtains. Beside it, a female wax figure wearing a red silk hoopskirt was being embraced by a taller male figure wearing an old-fashioned brown suit. “Scarlett O’Hara here looks about your size.”
“Not quite the same era.”
“Vegas, babe. Nobody’s gonna scrutinize us that closely. Pardon me, Rhett. Need to borrow your woman for a minute.” Grunting, he flopped Scarlett onto the bed. “Take her dress.”
She started unweaving the intricately laced bodice. “Dear Diary. Tonight, I snuck into Madame Tussaud’s and stripped Scarlett O’Hara buck naked.” Despite the tense situation, or perhaps because of it, she giggled. She hadn’t giggled since she was sixteen. “I’d rather do Errol.”
“Now who’s a pervert?” Grinning, he dragged Errol over. He untied the blue curtains from the posts and pulled them shut, creating a makeshift dressing room inside the bed. “Behold, Plan C.”
Murphy sat on guard by the footboard while she and Liam climbed inside. They stood upright on the “mattress,” which was a wooden platform draped with bedding.
Her hand circled. “Turn around.”
“Spoilsport.” Smiling, he complied. “I’ve seen you naked.” His voice roughened to a sensual growl. “A beautiful picture I still carry in my head.”
Her pulse leaped, and she lurched, dropping the gown.
Back to back, they undressed. The whisper of discarded clothing and Liam’s soft breathing winched the tension to unbearably erotic. Even after a dunking, he smelled clean and fresh, and all male. She’d never forgotten how awesome he looked naked, either. Never forgotten the skill and strength coiled in his lean, powerful muscles. The supple warmth of his skin, dusted with dark hairs. The tenderness of his soft lips and clever tongue. Her abdomen clenched. She gripped the bedpost, overcome by the temptation to whirl around and press her nearly bare body to his.
“You ready?” he asked. “We need to hurry before the rest of the tour catches up.”
Caught in a smoking hot PDA by a busload of seniors from Yuma. Wouldn’t that be special? Forgoing the hoops, she tossed petticoats over her head, followed by the dress, and fumbled with the bodice back. “Darn these laces.”
“Let me.” He scooped her hair across one shoulder, and his nimble fingers tied the dress closed. “All set.”
She heard him pull the curtain and jump down. She turned and her breath hitched. A sexy pirate awaited her. One big hand brandished a gleaming sword. His tousled hair lent roguish appeal, and dark stubble dusted his cheekbones and framed that delicious mouth. The billowy white shirt open to the waist revealed a spectacular chest and washboard abs. Knee-high black boots showcased strong calves and long, long legs. Tight brown breeches, complete with a red sash tied above his gun belt, hugged m
uscular thighs. And oooh, what those formfitting pants showcased.
She searched for words. “Aye, matey, that’s a fine mizzen mast ye have there.”
A laugh burst out of him. “Lookin’ damn tasty yourself, Miz Scarlett. Red is a terrific color on you.” He dropped his sword and lifted her, then spun her around before setting her down and claiming her mouth in a quick but thorough kiss.
More dizzy from the kiss than the spin, she put a hand on his broad shoulder and inclined her head at the mannequins on the bed. “We can’t leave porno dummies for the seniors to find. Or to tip off management that their costumes are missing.”
“If the seniors are anything like our neighbor, Letty, they might get a kick out of it.”
They tossed the dummies into the bed. She jerked the comforter over them while Liam stuffed his and Kate’s street clothes into shopping bags he’d “borrowed” from the gift shop. Kate stepped back. Errol and Scarlett lounged nude between the sheets, while Rhett watched from beside the bed. She giggled again. “That is one disturbing tableau.”
Liam grinned. “Judging by Flynn’s satisfied smirk, he should be puffing on a cigarette.” He passed her the bags, then kicked his sword from the floor into the air, gracefully catching it by the hilt.
Whoa! A thrilling swashbuckling move straight out of a Hollywood blockbuster. If they had time, she’d have surrendered to the urge to kiss him again.
He took her left hand in his. “Let’s beat feet.”
They’d run halfway to the door, when he checked. “Hellfire!”
The distinct babble of female voices floated nearer. “Ooh, Shirley, I can’t wait to see Errol Flynn. He’s my favorite.”
“Freeze,” Liam whispered. “Murphy, sit. Stay!”
Caught red-gowned and pirate-bound, they froze in place as two elderly women strolled into the room.
Chapter 10
9:00 p.m.
Liam remained motionless and unblinking while the senior duo explored. In the enforced stillness, his thoughts wandered to Kate. He’d quashed his raging fury at the demented fuckstick who was tormenting her and putting her and a gravely ill child at risk. Along with hundreds of innocent bystanders. Anger would cloud his reason. Compromise his effectiveness. Psycho wanted to play? Liam’s tense muscles winched tighter. He’d play. To the endgame.
