Shadows and Silk Page 15

  “What about outside of Mexico?” he asked, watching her instead of the computer screen now.

  “That’s a little easier. The ruins of Kaminaljuyu are located in Guatemala. It’s not far from Guatemala City, but it’s surrounded by valleys and volcanoes. It’s beginning is estimated to be from around 1500BC. And as far as the temples and kings turning to dust, then it would be accurate. Kaminaljuyu today is only a few mounds and remains of carvings. Though one of those carvings is of a jaguar king beheading captives with an axe while jaguar deities float above him. The carving is just a fragment from the larger piece.”

  “Guatemala,” Brant said, rubbing his eyes. “Fuck. You’re sure?”

  “As sure as I can be. Nothing else in Mexico makes sense. Is it so outside the realm of possibility that Ramos has control in Guatemala as well.”

  “No, it’s very much a possibility. But it makes our jobs a hell of a lot harder.” He took the cell phone from his pocket and typed in a number that had way too many digits for a normal call, and Darcy listened as he relayed the information to who she assumed was Declan.

  Brant gave her a long, steady look, and she raised her brow in question, knowing Declan must have been discussing her in some way.

  “Fine,” Brant said and hung up.

  “What’s he going to do?”

  “He’s suspected Ramos might have power in Guatemala, but there hasn’t been any hard proof. No deaths or deals. He’s keeping the territory clean. Which makes us think we might have a match for our lab location. Declan is seeing if we can get an aerial shot of the area you described. He’ll get back to us soon.”

  Darcy closed the laptop and moved away, wondering what she was supposed to do trapped inside the room with Brant. There were things she needed to say to him. Things she had to say to him. But she didn’t have the courage, or even the right words.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and turned back to face him. He was exactly where she’d left him and he was watching her closely, trying to use that cunning mind to dissect her every thought.

  “Let’s go get some dinner,” he said, surprising her. “I’m starving, and it’ll be at least a couple of hours before Dec gets back to us.”

  Darcy nodded, grateful for the reprieve, and then she escaped to the bathroom to change.

  ***

  Darcy was thinking too hard about something, which in his opinion, always meant trouble was coming. She also looked as beautiful as he’d ever seen her, and something in his chest stalled as she stared at him with eyes that held too many secrets, and shadows of pain.

  He knew he’d never forget the way she looked—the impression of her would be stamped on his mind when he was old and withered. She wore blue. And the dress gathered at one shoulder and fell in a straight column to her thighs. Her skin glowed, and the spiked heels on her feet made her legs look a mile long. Her hair flowed down her back in soft curls, just how he like it best, and he imagined the way they’d look spread across his pillow as he buried himself inside of her.

  He shouldn’t want her again. Not after the intensity of the lovemaking that had happened between them that afternoon. But it seemed like the wanting never really stopped.

  Brant took her arm and covered them with an umbrella as they made their way from the villa to the main restaurant. They were shown to a table on the covered balcony so they could hear the wind and rain and waves. White candles flickered between them, making the shadows in her eyes even harder to read. It should have been a night for romance—for loving softly and lazily as the rain fell around them. To talk with each other easily as they once done, sharing common interests or funny stories about the members of their families. But that wasn’t to be.

  “What’s wrong, Darcy?” he asked after they’d ordered and were sipping on chilled wine. She hadn’t looked at him since they’d sat down. She’d just stared at the direction of the ocean, even though it was too dark to see the waves.

  He watched as he inhaled deeply, gathering her courage. “I don’t want to go through with our six month plan. I’ve changed my mind.”

  Her words were like a slap in the face—his biggest fear come to life. She wanted to leave. So her words of love must have been shallow at best. He kept his expression blank even though his hands fisted in his lap.

  “I see,” he said for lack of anything better. He cleared his throat and took a drink, trying to think of the right thing to say without doing more damage to their strained relationship.

  She turned those big, sad eyes on him and tried to smile. “I just think it’s time we stop playing a game no one is going to win. There’s no reason to prolong it. You have everything to gain here, and I have everything to lose. And frankly, I’m tired of being on the losing end when it comes to you. It’s just not fair—” her voice cracked on a sob before she took a deep breath and continued. “And I’m tired. I deserve better than you’re willing to give me. I don’t want your half-assed marriage proposals and the if I could love anyone it would be you speech. I love you, Brant Scott. I’ve always loved you. And it’s time for you to either be man enough to love me back or to walk away for good. I’m not settling for anything else.”

  He exhaled a slow breath when she said the words he’d wanted too badly to hear. She still loved him. She was just giving up on him. Panic had a cold sweat snaking down his spine. It was the first time she’d said the words while looking him straight in the eye. She meant them, he could see that she did. But he couldn’t give the words back, even though the thought of losing her forever made him want to break things with his own two hands.

  He could say the words. And he knew if he said them he’d mean them. But he was terrified about what came after the words. If he opened himself like that to her, she had the power to hurt him more than even his wife had.

  “And you think you’ll be able to just walk away.”

  He was surprised at how smooth his voice was. How controlled. He didn’t know how to convince her that he’d been relying on her to give him another chance. To see him through the darkness in his heart and show him that only their love would be enough in the end. He just knew he was out of chances.

  “Yes,” she said with a finality that chilled him to the bone. “It’s over, Brant.”

  He ignored the tears that escaped her eyes, wishing he could shed a few himself. “Do you think I have nothing to lose by having feelings for you?” he asked.

  “Since you’ve never said what those feelings are, then no. I think you have nothing to lose.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that Vivian spent months watching and learning you without you or your brothers being aware? Your brothers, Darcy, who are some of the finest damned agents I’ve ever met. She could have killed you and no one would have ever known. All because you were my obsession. The one thing I could never get out of my system. Any time you spent with me would be taking a chance on your life. I’d have everything to lose by loving you.”

  “Even after all this, that is the excuse you’re going to use? You can’t even be honest with yourself.” Anger had brought color to her cheeks and her eyes lit with fire. “Considering what my brothers do for a living, those chances happen every day. I’m not going to live in a bubble for them or for you. I’ve lived my life the way I’ve wanted to, with many objections from the overbearing men in my life. But this time I’ll be living it without the hope that I can spend it with you.”

  Frustration ate at him. He was being more than honest with himself. He no longer had blinders on about his feelings for Darcy. He loved her. All of her. But how could he tell her after all the misery he’d put her through.

  Their food arrived by waiters who looked at them nervously. It wasn’t difficult to feel the tension between them. But their appetites seemed to have disappeared since both of them did nothing more than push the food around on their plate.

  The rain had stopped by the time they left to head back to their villa. The paths were well lit, and drops of water dripped from the palm trees.
Brant heard the furious whispers before he saw anyone, and he put his hand on Darcy’s arm to pull her back some as they made their way around the bend.

  Darcy looked at him, and he inched forward slowly, his steps silent so he wouldn’t alert whoever was there. This wasn’t an argument between one of the other couples at a resort. It was the kind of argument that could go from bad to worse in a second.

  What he saw once they rounded the corner was Marco Luna and his son squared off face to face. The elder Luna held his son by his shirt collar, and whatever threat he delivered made Enrique pale considerably. When Marco finished he let go of his son and stormed off in the opposite direction. Enrique stood there for a moment with his hands on his hips, the anger surrounding him like a live current. He kicked once at the pebbles on the path and let out a stream of Spanish vile enough to raise both his and Darcy’s brows. It wasn’t often one so young was that creative with language.

  Brant started walking and pulled Darcy with him, and Enrique turned suddenly at the sound of their footsteps. The look in Enrique’s eyes was enough to make Brant was glad he was armed. Enrique didn’t bother to say anything or acknowledge them. He just took off in the opposite direction of his father.

  “Well,” Darcy said. “That was interesting. A kid that young shouldn’t have eyes like that.”

  “Maybe it would be a good idea to look a little closer at the Lunas.”

  ***

  Darcy had told Brant the truth. What she felt for him was too strong—and it hurt too much to not have him feel the same way in return. There was a time to fight for the things that mattered in life, but there was also a time for self-preservation. And six more months of this would be the end of her. It was time to finish this once and for all and disappear for a while so she could lick her wounds in private. It would only be natural that the hurt would lessen over time.

  Brant was quiet beside her, and she didn’t know what to think of his silence. Whatever his feelings, he hadn’t seemed all that upset with her declaration. Not that she’d be able to tell even if he was upset. He was like her brothers as far as keeping their feelings close to the vest. Maybe it was for the best if neither of them said anything for a while.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket just as he unlocked the door to the villa, and he ushered her inside and out of the way while he did a quick walkthrough to make sure they’d had no visitors. He held his gun in his right hand and answered the phone with his left.

  The conversation was short and to the point with whoever was on the other end.

  “That was your brother,” Brant said. “It looks like you were on target with the ruins in Guatemala. Dec couldn’t get an aerial shot because they’ve restricted flight access, and satellite imaging isn’t helping much because of the dense coverage of the jungle. What satellite did pick up was about two square miles of military grade fencing, and soldiers on a guard rotation. Dec says it looks like a military operation instead of drug lord territory.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  He gave her a steady look as he put away his weapon and tossed the phone on the bar. “Dec says we’re all going in, but I’m still undecided on whether or not I should tie and gag you and have you shipped off to safety. How well do you know that area?”

  “As well as anyone. I did my dissertation on that site. I spent six months living and breathing every hill and valley where the ruins used to be.”

  Brant rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. “That’s what your brother said. You’re coming with us this time. We can’t afford to leave Jade behind to protect you. She’s too important on a mission like this. And we can’t afford any misinformation from what Dec has managed to glean in the last couple of hours. You’re going to have to get us into that compound.”

  “I can do that,” she said feeling the rush of excitement spread under her skin. They needed her. And she wasn’t going to be left behind. “Like I said, I know the area well.”

  “Goddammit, Darcy,” he said, pounding his fist against the counter. “This isn’t going to be a walk in the park. We’re dragging you into the lion’s den, and I can fucking see the excitement in your eyes.”

  “Why the hell do you even care?” she shouted back, finally having enough of his pretending that she mattered. “I’m just a quick fuck. Don’t stand there and pretend like you really give a shit. You know what you are? You’re a coward.”

  She saw the vein throb at his temple and the way his eyes darkened so they were almost black with fury. She’d crossed the line, but she didn’t care. At least she could tell he was angry this time. He couldn’t be a robot all the time. Anger and hurt were one emotion now, and she couldn’t seem to stop the rollercoaster she’d started on.

  “You say I was your obsession for years? Years! And then you tried to push me out of your life by marrying the first standin you could find, someone who looked like me and acted like me.”

  She saw the wine glass on the bar next to her and grabbed one, throwing it at his head.

  “What the hell?” he said, ducking so the glass shattered against the wall behind his head. His eyes narrowed in warning, but she didn’t care and grabbed another glass.

  “Don’t give me some excuse about me being too young. I was yours. I’ve always been yours.” Another glass left her hand and smashed against the wall to his right. “And you pissed that away because you’re terrified of what loving me makes you feel after the wife—who you didn’t love and who didn’t love you by the way—stabbed you in the back and betrayed you.” He moved again, and she could see he was trying to close in on her. She threw two more glasses in rapid succession and he took cover behind the couch.

  “A wife that should have been me in the first place,” she yelled. “So yeah. You’re a coward, Brant Scott.”

  “Jesus, Darcy, get a grip.”

  “Get a grip?” She was running out of glasses, and glittering shards littered the floor. “After everything you’ve put me through you want me to get a grip?” She threw another glass, but her aim was fading along with her rage. “I waited for you. For years I waited. And I kept loving you. But now you don’t even have the courage to fight for me even though I know how much you want me. Well, you can go straight to hell.”

  She moved toward the kitchen since he was slowly circling the room, trying to trap her. Another glass left her hand, and she noticed the small trickle of blood running down the side of his face. Good, it served him right. The look in his eyes was dangerous, but she wasn’t finished yet.

  “And I’m going to tell every one of my brothers the things you’ve done to me,” she said, throwing down her trump card. “There won’t be a place in this universe where you can run and hide. I hope they cut your privates off and shove them down your throat.”

  He rushed her and she threw the final glass in her hand, but he swatted it away so it bounced against the soft rug and rolled under the coffee table. Darcy turned to run through the kitchen and out the front door, but he leaped over the bar that separated them and she knew she’d never make it. There was no escape. He swiped at the blood on his face, and she tried not to flinch as he backed her into a corner.

  Her back hit the wall, and she had nowhere else to run, so she stuck out her chin and glared at him defiantly. She had nothing to lose. This was the end, and by God, she’d rather go out fighting than for him to remember the tears she’d shed at dinner.

  “So you’ve always belonged to me?” he asked, his voice dark and dangerous. “It should have been you I married?”

  He stood directly in front of her now, so close that every breath she took made their bodies touch. She tilted her chin even higher, the dare in her eyes, when she answered. “Yes.”

  “Maybe you’re right. And if you were always mine, then I guess it’s my right to take what belongs to me.”

  His mouth slammed down on hers in a kiss that was more anger and pain than lust, and she struggled against him, trying to hurt him as much as he’d hurt her. Teeth and tongues collid
ed, and she tasted the coppery tang of blood in her mouth. She pulled at his hair and clawed at his face and neck, but he held her arms immobile even as his body slammed her against the wall.

  Their breaths came in short pants, and Darcy felt the moisture pooling between her thighs. He could always make her want. That had never been the problem. He lifted her arms above her head and anchored them with one hand, and she gasped as he pulled the top of her dress down, tearing it as he exposed her breasts.

  “This won’t solve anything,” she cried out as his mouth fastened over her nipple. Fire shot straight to her pussy and she arched away from the wall and toward him, seeking desperately what she’d decided to walk away from.

  “Then think of it as a going away present. Because I swear to God you’ll never feel what you have with me with any other man. Remember this was your choice to walk away. Not mine.”

  The anger and hurt in his voice were like lashes whipping against her skin, and he was right. No other man would ever make her feel this way.

  “I won’t settle for anything less than what I deserve from you. So take what you want and then leave me in peace.”

  He growled low in his throat, a primal, angry sound that had her flesh pebbling. His hand skimmed up her thigh, raising the ruined dress so it hung at her hips, and she gasped when he ripped the panties she wore and plunged his fingers inside of her.

  “Ahh,” she cried out, clenching around him and drenching his fingers with a hard, fast orgasm that left her limp and breathless.

  Her head dropped and rested on his chest, and she was barely aware he’d released her arms. His fingers dug into her hips and he jerked her against him, so she could feel the hard ridge of his cock straining against his slacks. Her legs lifted and wrapped around him, and Brant worked at his zipper and let his pants fall to his hips. And then he was inside her, rocking high into her, and she forgot everything except how right he always felt.

  It was a fast and frantic race to the end. No finesse or soft words. Just the slap of flesh hitting flesh and the groans and grunts of good, sweaty sex. Her nails dug into his shoulders and her head flung back as she felt him swell inside of her. He thrust one final time and her world exploded.