Shadows and Silk Page 18

  “I’m assuming there’s a wedding in our future?”

  Brant felt Darcy still beneath him, and he leaned back so he could see her face. She looked at her brothers, her annoyance plain for them both to see, and then she looked at him and her gaze softened. He almost gave in and kissed her swollen lips again, but he wanted to know how she was going to answer Shane.

  “We’ve decided to elope,” she said, giving him a heart-stopping grin. “We’ll send you a postcard.”

  “You heard her,” Brant said, wondering what he’d done to ever deserve her. “Now get lost. I was in the middle of something.”

  Shane and Declan both grunted and walked away, leaving them alone.

  “You’re mine, Darcy MacKenzie. From now to eternity. No more running.” He leaned down and touched his lips softly to hers, whispering the words he’d been so afraid to say against them.

  He felt her smile and then she finally said the words he’d been waiting to hear again.

  “I love you too, sugar.”

  Epilogue

  Six Weeks Later

  “Congratulations, Mrs. Scott,” the nurse said, handing Darcy a sample packet of pre-natal vitamins and the DVD they’d taken of the sonogram.

  She was still in shock, so she only nodded dumbly at the nurse and put the items in her purse. The nurse left her alone to dress, and Darcy felt the sudden urge to burst into tears and start laughing hysterically all at one time.

  A baby, she thought, pressing her hand over her flat stomach. She was already six weeks along. It looked like Brant had been right. The broken condom had been fate lending a hand.

  They both wanted a family, not to mention they’d been trying pretty regularly since they’d said their wedding vows. Brant loved her to distraction. He cherished her. And he never let a day go by without telling her how he felt. They talked and made love for hours on end, and she knew he and her brothers were cooking up some kind of business venture that would keep him closer to home.

  Darcy grinned to herself in excitement. She couldn’t wait to tell him and see the reaction on his face. It would be the ultimate surprise. And it’s not like she could keep it a secret for very long.

  Her doctor’s office was inside John Hopkins Hospital, which was where Max Devlin had been in ICU for the last six weeks, and where the girls who’d been kidnapped had also been treated and released. Smith and Huxley’s bodies were never recovered and assumed destroyed in the explosion, but she’d attended his funeral and watched his wife sit on the front pew next to Declan, stoic and pale, as man after man eulogized him with honor. But she’d seen something in the way her brother watched the widow that made her worry, and she hoped he knew what he was doing.

  Max hadn’t been doing so well. He’d taken a shot to the shoulder and another to the head, and amazingly he’d survived both of them. His doctor said Max’s head must have been like granite, because the bullet bounced right off. Unfortunately, Max was still in a coma, and there hadn’t even been the smallest sign that he was closer to regaining consciousness.

  Darcy gathered her things and went to the desk so she could pay and schedule her next appointment. She waved goodbye and then decided while she was here she might as well check on Max. She’d developed a soft spot for her husband’s friend during their time in Mexico. He might look like a CFO, and he had a bawdy sense of humor that reminded her of her brother Shane, but he was a damned good agent and a good friend.

  She headed to the elevators that would take her up to the ICU level. They’d all taken turns coming to talk to him, hoping he could hear them, and she decided she could practice telling Brant about the baby on Max. That way she wouldn’t be so nervous when it came time for the real thing.

  Butterflies bounced around in her stomach the more she thought about it, and she started to feel a little queasy, which was ridiculous because she hadn’t had even a little bit of morning sickness over the last weeks.

  “Buck up, Darcy. Women do this every day.”

  Except when the elevator doors opened on the eleventh floor and she stepped out into the hallway, she wasn’t expecting to see her brother and her husband in deep conversation across from Max’s room.

  They both looked up when she got close, and she got lost in the way Brant looked at her, all the love he had shining right there in his eyes.

  “It’s like I’m invisible,” Declan said.

  “I’m sorry,” Darcy said, her mouth quirking in a smile as she finally looked at Dec. “Did you say something?”

  “Brat,” he said, affectionately.

  “What were you guys talking about so seriously?”

  “Christmas,” Dec said. She could tell he was lying, but she let it pass. They’d been having a lot of secret meetings lately, and not even her best tries as seduction had gotten Brant to crack under pressure. She narrowed her eyes at him and decided against asking more questions. She was in too good of a mood to let her brother annoy her.

  “Everyone will be there,” Darcy said instead. “Mom’s ecstatic. It’s been a long time since everyone was home for Christmas.”

  “If she mentions the damned firecrackers in the fireplace again I’m going to start looking for another family to adopt.”

  “Serves you right,” she said, laughing. “I hope someday you have children who are as dangerously creative as you were.”

  Dec smiled at her, but she could see something in his eyes that made her a little sad. She didn’t know much about her brother’s personal life, but she knew he wasn’t completely happy either.

  “Stay out of trouble,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. He and Brant shook hands and then Dec disappeared down the hallway and got on the elevator.

  “What are you doing here?” Brant asked, putting his arm around her and pulling her close. He nuzzled his lips against her neck and said, “This isn’t the day you normally come.”

  She pulled back and looked at his chin as she felt the heat flush over her cheeks. “I was here anyway for a doctor’s appointment. I figured I’d stop by and see how Max was doing.”

  “Oh, yeah?” he asked curiously. “And what did the doctor have to say?”

  The way he asked had her examining him a little closer. She narrowed her eyes, curious about the hint of laughter she saw gleaming in his and then she gasped. “You already know. You dirty rat. How could you possibly know? I just found out.”

  He laughed and pulled her closer, and Darcy sucked in a breath as she felt his hand cup her breasts like he was weighing them.

  “I should say I suspected. I’ve made it a point to become an expert on your body, so I notice even the smallest change. And you’ve definitely changed—here,” he said. His thumb rasped over her nipple and she felt it bead, even as she felt the throbbing need of arousal begin between her legs.

  “We’re in public,” she said, moaning as his nail scraped across the sensitive bud.

  “Mmm,” he said. “Then maybe we should go home and celebrate the good news. I’ve heard expectant mothers need to be pampered. Preferably on your back. With your legs over my shoulders.”

  Darcy gasped at the image and then nipped at his bottom lip before dancing out of his grasp.

  “First one home gets to be on top,” she said, laughing as she ran for the elevator. There was no doubt in her mind he’d be right behind her.

  ***

  Inside the hospital room, the sound of beeping machines and the scent of disinfectant were driving Jade crazy. She sat next to Max, holding onto his hand, as she carried on a one-way conversation with him.

  “Don’t die on me, Max,” she said, rubbing soothing circles in his palm with her thumb. “You’re the best partner I’ve ever had. Though I wouldn’t admit it to Donovan if he were still alive. You know how he liked to try and protect me instead of letting me do my job.”

  She let out a sad sigh, thinking of the good times she had with her husband that always equaled out the bad. She’d loved him. And then he’d pulled some macho stunt and had gotten h
imself killed. And Max had been there for her through it all. He’d let her grieve, and then he’d kept her busy so she wouldn’t get lost in the grief. And now he was a step away from death too.

  “You’re going to miss out on the fun stuff if you stay in here too long. Declan has big plans for all of us. There are changes coming.”

  She stood up and brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Just—just don’t die on me. I don’t think I can go through it again. I’m not strong enough.”

  Jade squeezed his hand and then left the private room, the door shutting softly behind her. So she didn’t see the small bump in his heart rate on his monitor or the way the corner of his mouth kicked up in a smile.

  Enjoy the next MacKenzie novel, SECRETS AND SATIN, coming in February of 2013.

  Here’s a preview of Liliana Hart’s exciting new romantic suspense series, KILL SHOT, releasing in June of 2013.

  By her calculations, Grace Meredith had exactly five and a half seconds to take out six targets before an alarm sounded. She had a round in the chamber and five in the magazine of her M40A5. Piece of cake.

  She ignored the mosquitoes the size of hummingbirds searching for exposed flesh, and she ignored the sweat that dripped steadily down her spine as she looked through the scope of her rifle. The temperature was in the mid-nineties, but the canopy of trees that blanketed the area held the heat in like an oven and slowly baked anyone who didn’t have shelter. Her body and mind were disciplined, so the discomforts didn’t register.

  Colombia wasn’t known for its gentle climate. Or gentle anything for that matter. Gemino Vasquez was Colombia’s baddest arms dealer, and lately his biggest client had been North Korea. But Vasquez had something Grace wanted very badly. Something that would bring in a big, fat paycheck from the South Korean government.

  She shifted slightly, and the bark of the large tree branch she’d laid on for the last four hours ground against her stomach. But her focus was absolute. Not even the hundred and fifty foot drop to the ground could distract her.

  The orange sun blazed just over the tops of the trees, but it would disappear completely in another twenty minutes. By the time it was gone, she’d have the flash drive in hand and already be across the border to Venezuela.

  Grace did one final check of all her equipment and took a deep, steadying breath, slowing her heartbeat so her pulse would be in time with each shot. She’d hit the sentry at the top of the Vasquez compound first and then take the rest in order from left to right. She pushed her feet against the tree for balance. The clock ticked in the background of her mind as she put the slightest amount of pressure on the trigger.

  “One,” she whispered. She didn’t wait to watch him fall, but moved to the next target. Five seconds until the report from her rifle reached their ears. Five seconds for five more kills.

  Two…

  Three…

  Four…

  Five…

  Six…

  Grace didn’t stop to check the accuracy of her shots. She never missed. She hung her rifle on a tree branch, already missing the feel of it in her hands. Time was of the essence now, and she couldn’t afford to be burdened with too much equipment. The new guards would be driving up soon for the shift change, and she had to be long gone by then.

  She took the crossbow she’d hung on another branch, lined it up with the tree that hovered over the roof of the compound, and fired. The bolt buried itself deep in the tree, and she held tight to the crossbow as the cable attached to the bolt threatened to jerk out of her hands. She pulled until the cable was taut and secured the crossbow in the crook of two sturdy branches, tying it down with rope from her bag just to be safe. Falling to her death wouldn’t bring her the money she needed.

  Fifteen minutes until all hell broke loose.

  Grace slipped on her harness and clipped herself to the cable. She pushed off from the sturdy branch that had been her refuge that afternoon and soared through the treetops like a phantom. And when her momentum died, she put hand over hand on the cable and pulled herself with pure strength to the compound roof.

  The body of the first sentry she’d shot lay face down in the greenish-blue water of the swimming pool. A hazy cloud of blood ballooned from under him, and his arms and legs floated like waving ribbons.

  Her eyes and ears were alert, but all that greeted her was growing darkness and silence. Even the animals and birds in the jungle knew bad shit was about to go down.

  Grace unhooked the harness and pulled her Sig from a thigh holster. She stood silently next to the gray door that led from the roof down a set of stairs to the main floors of the house. Two heartbeats passed before she opened the door and slipped inside. It was quiet, but that wasn’t unusual at this time of the day according to her intel—six sentries on duty surrounding the compound, only two guarding Vasquez’s private suite of rooms.

  Vasquez’s stupidity only made her job easier.

  Grace walked silently down the thickly carpeted hallway as if she weren’t about to steal the schematics for a new super weapon—a weapon that used state of the art laser technology—and sell it to another country. But the closer she got to Vasquez, the more her spine tingled in awareness that something was wrong. That tingle had saved her life more than once, and she never ignored it. The hallway opened up into a landing just as she reached Vasquez’s private rooms. Weak light filtered through the windows and cast rainbows as it pierced the glass chandelier that hung overhead.

  She saw firsthand exactly why her spine was tingling.

  Both sentries were slumped against each other—a dead man’s embrace—one with a broken neck and the other with a hunting knife in his carotid. Efficient work considering the size of the sentries.

  She pushed the bodies out of her way with her foot and eased the door open, her finger on the trigger of her Sig. All that mattered was the flash drive. If she didn’t produce it then she didn’t get paid.

  The smells of new death were thick and cloying in the heat, and she could taste the fresh blood in the back of her throat with every breath she took. Dust mites danced in the air and long shadows were cast in the fading sunlight.

  Grace waited for her eyes to adjust and listened for sounds of footsteps, but all she heard was the gentle whir of the wicker fans that rotated slowly on the ceiling. She moved silently, staying close to the wall as she checked each room.

  Vasquez’s bedroom was bigger than her whole apartment—the furniture oversized and ornate—the colors garishly red. He was set up for sex. The interesting kind of sex by the looks of it. Restraints and various whips and other tools lined one whole wall, and torn condom packages littered the floor. It looked like Vasquez had had a busy morning. Too bad his afternoon hadn’t turned out so hot.

  Gemino Vasquez’s body laid spread eagle on his bed. He was naked, and his eyes were open and unseeing. A single gunshot wound to the heart bled sluggishly. He hadn’t been dead long. She couldn’t stop the bitter disappointment when she saw the flash drive was gone from the chain on his right wrist.

  “Dammit,” she whispered and moved to check the covers of his bed just to make sure it hadn’t come off in the struggle. But she knew in her heart it was long gone. She knew the signs of a professional hit, and this job reeked of it. What pissed her off even more was that whoever did it managed to sneak in right under her nose. He had to have known she was watching and snuck in through the one blind spot she had at the back of the compound.

  The stir of air behind her was the only warning she had as an arm locked around her throat.

  “Looking for this?” a deep voice whispered in her ear, holding the flash drive in front of her face.

  He pressed close against her back and squeezed his arm tighter around her throat so she had to breathe shallowly through her nose. Grace winced as he pressed his fingers against the pressure points of her wrist and her pistol fell uselessly to the floor with a dull thunk.

  Fear never had a chance to take hold. It was anger that drove Grace. Anger that had
kept her alive the last couple of years. And she knew how to wield it. She threw her head back and aimed her heel at his knee simultaneously. He dodged her blows as if he’d been expecting them, but the distraction was enough for him to loosen his grip. She swept her leg and brought him to his knees, reaching down for the knife in her boot. The knife gleamed once in the fading sunlight just before it was knocked out of her hand and across the room.

  He outweighed her by close to eighty pounds, and he had a good eight inches on her in height. They grappled and rolled, each one blocking the other’s strikes with only seconds to spare. It was a well choreographed dance.

  A familiar dance.

  The surprise of recognition took her off guard, and she looked up into laughing blue eyes framed by thick, dark lashes she’d always been jealous of. She had time to register that he’d let his hair grow—a shaggy mane of ink black that curled just over his ears and collar, and a face that was covered in a short, stubbled beard—just before her legs went out from under her. She hit the carpet with a thud. A hard body pressed her into the floor, and he held her wrists captive above her head.

  “Hello, Grace.” His breath whispered against her skin, and she couldn’t stop her traitorous body from reacting to his familiar scent. Her nipples hardened and she arched against him. “You’ve been practicing. Who’s your new sparring partner?”

  “What do you want, Gabe?” She tried to act as if his growing erection against her thigh wasn’t having any effect, but she could tell by the way he shifted against her that her attempt failed. She bit her lip to stifle a moan as he pressed against the very heat of her. He knew exactly how to weaken her resolve. They’d always been able to read each other much too well.

  “I want you, of course.” His lips glanced across her cheek to the corner of her mouth, and she sucked in a breath that brought her body even closer to his. After everything he’d done, he was still the only man who could make her feel less than whole when their bodies weren’t fused together. She hated him for it. She hated herself for it.