Midnight Action

by Elle Kennedy

  Maurice and Nik exchanged an indecipherable look, and then the former addressed her as if she were a small child.

  “You don’t know what you’re saying, Catarina.”

  A hysterical laugh popped out of her mouth. “I don’t know what I’m saying? I met him! Yesterday, at the Eiffel Tower.”

  Nik’s eyes clouded over. “How is that possible?”

  “I lied to you,” she retorted, her tone defiant, satisfied. “When Bruno and Christian were following us? It wasn’t me walking around with Gabriel—it was a decoy. Morgan arranged it!”

  Her grandfather glowered. “Are you saying you had contact with that man?”

  “My father,” she corrected. “Not that man, my father. And yes, I did. We didn’t talk about much because there wasn’t a lot of time, but I did glean one thing from the meeting, which is that he’s not dead. You lied to me. You’ve been lying to me my whole life.” She gasped for air as the horror returned. “And you killed Gabriel. Oh God. Oh my God. Morgan was right—you are dangerous. You...”

  She stumbled backward. Swaying, shaking, unable to think clearly anymore. She stared at the two men who’d raised her, the two men she’d trusted most in the world, and she didn’t recognize them anymore. They’d transformed into strangers right before her eyes, and the mere sight of them made her feel like throwing up.

  “I don’t know who you are,” she mumbled. “I don’t know either one of you.”

  Nik took a step toward her, slow and cautious, as if he were approaching a feral animal. “Cate...”

  Her hand flew up, palm out. “Don’t come any closer.”

  He kept inching forward.

  “No! Don’t come near me, Nik!”

  Gabriel’s face flashed in her mind. Morgan’s face. Ariana’s face.

  Ariana. God, had her mother really been shot during an assassination attempt gone wrong, or was that another lie they’d told her?

  Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing was real.

  “Catarina, get back here!”

  She hadn’t even realized she was running away. But she was. Running so fast her lungs burned, so fast that her surroundings were nothing but a blur, a whiz of doors and windows and expensive art, all disappearing in the blink of an eye.

  She tore down the hall with no idea where she was running. She heard footsteps pounding behind her. Nik called out her name, but she didn’t stop, didn’t turn around. She kept going, bare feet slapping the marble floor until finally she lurched into the sunroom and had to halt for a moment to catch her breath.

  “Cate! Stop! Just listen to me!”

  When Nik appeared in the doorway, her panic returned in full force, squeezing her chest like a vise.

  “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say,” she choked out, and then she dove through the French doors and hurried across the stone terrace, making a beeline for the stairs.

  The sun had set, but the cobblestone pathways winding through the gardens were lit up, illuminating her way. Her gaze landed on the entrance of the hedge maze, several yards away and shrouded in darkness.

  “Goddamn it, Cate! Come back here!”

  Without looking back, she ran toward the maze as if her life depended on it.

  • • •

  Adrenaline surged through Nik’s blood as he raced after Catarina. He hadn’t experienced fear this strong since he’d cradled Ariana’s body in his arms the night the Dietrich estate had been attacked. He still remembered the chaos—gunshots exploding through the house, the air thick and gray, thanks to the smoke bombs. Carrying the woman he loved to the tunnels beneath the house, fleeing the scene of the ambush with Walther at the wheel.

  Now that same paralyzing terror had seized his bones. He caught a glimpse of Cate’s retreating back as she disappeared into a sea of green, and he had to draw a much-needed breath in order to regain his composure.

  He needed to talk to her.

  He needed to make her understand.

  He hurried through the two massive hedges marking the maze’s entrance, then took a moment to orient himself. He’d completed the maze more than a dozen times, knew its layout like the back of his hand. He also knew that Cate had never had the patience for it, and she always took the same path when she was inside.

  He immediately dove to the left, his brown leather loafers thudding on the hard-packed ground. Hedges loomed on either side of him, nearly ten meters tall and emanating an odor that was a mixture of earthy evergreen and a hint of cat urine. He welcomed the distinct scent of the boxwood leaves; it served as a reminder of where he was, where he had to go. Some people found mazes claustrophobic, but Nik could solve this one in his sleep.

  He picked up his pace, and it wasn’t long before he heard her footsteps several feet ahead of him. He was gaining on her.

  “Cate!” he shouted.

  Her muffled response reached his ears. “Leave me alone!”

  He could smell the sweet fragrance of her shampoo now. She was close.

  He ran faster, turned right, then left, then raced down the narrow path, all the way to the end. He spotted her the moment he rounded the corner, her blue cotton pajama pants and loose white tank top reflecting the shards of silvery light from the sky above them.

  A moment later, he’d grabbed hold of her arm and was yanking her backward.

  “Listen to me!”

  “No!” she spat out, trying to shrug out of his grip. “Get away from me!”

  He planted both hands on her shoulders and shook her hard. “Goddamn it! Let me explain!”

  “Explain what?” Venom dripped from her words. “Explain how you killed Gabriel? You know what? Fine! Go ahead and explain! Tell me how you did it, Nik. Tell me how you mowed him down with your car!”

  His chest constricted when he glimpsed the tears in her eyes.

  “Did he die when you hit him?” she panted. “Or did you snap his neck afterward? Come on, tell me!”

  The guilt that poured into him was so powerful it blurred his vision. She would never know how difficult it had been for him to kill that boy, but he’d had no other choice. He’d left the boy with a warning and gotten into his car, all the while knowing that Gabriel would hop on his scooter and go to Cate.

  And then he’d gone after him, eliminating the threat with a heavy heart.

  He hadn’t derived any pleasure from the task. Lord, how could he? He wasn’t a killer. He oversaw smuggling routes, for Christ’s sake. But someone had needed to silence the Traver boy, and unfortunately, that someone had been him.

  He had to make her understand. He had to make her see that he’d only done it to protect her. That was all he’d ever wanted—to protect Ariana.

  “Please,” he pleaded. “Please, sweetheart, don’t look at me like that.”

  He tried to touch her face, but she batted his hand away. When he noticed the flicker of fear in her eyes, something inside him split apart.

  “Don’t look at me like that!” he howled.

  Her eyes widened as he backed her into the prickly wall of the maze and slammed his thigh between her legs.

  “Stop looking at me like I’m going to hurt you! I would never hurt you!”

  “Wh-what are you doing?”

  He grabbed her chin with both hands. “I love you! Don’t you understand? All I’ve ever done is try to protect you!”

  “Let go of me,” she whispered.

  “Damn it, Ariana! I love you! Don’t you see it?”

  His mouth crashed down on hers before she could respond. He registered her horrified gasp, but it sounded like it had come from far away, and he ignored it, because the pleasure that flooded his body was too overwhelming. He kissed her with everything he had, years of pent-up passion exploding inside him.

  He groaned into her mouth, vaguely aware of the sensation of something hitting his chest.
But he ignored that too, because the kiss was too incredible, too beautiful.

  He’d ached for this moment. He’d missed her so much.

  His hand trembled as it slid down to cup one firm breast. Another groan ripped out of his throat. Lord. So sweet, so beautiful.

  “Ariana,” he moaned.

  A jolt of pain slammed into his nose.

  “Don’t ever touch me again!”

  Nik blinked, his vision rapidly coming into focus to find a pair of blue eyes blazing fiercely at him.

  Blue eyes. Not chocolate brown.

  “Catarina,” he choked out.

  Her voice was low and deadly. “Don’t come near me.”

  “Cate...I didn’t mean to...I didn’t mean...I...”

  He couldn’t hear himself over the loud pounding of his heart. He’d kissed her. He’d fondled her. Bile coated his throat as the full weight of his actions sank in. He’d disgraced himself in front of Ariana’s daughter.

  “I’m so sorry,” he stammered. “I’m so sorry.”

  When he took a step toward her, her fists snapped up in a defensive stance.

  “Don’t you fucking come near me, Nik.”

  Tears stung his eyes. “I didn’t mean to do that, Cate. I...got confused.” He blinked rapidly, then cleared his throat. “It’s time for us to go back inside.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  As the broken pieces of his composure fused back together, he looked at her with genuine regret. “You don’t have a choice, sweetheart. You know it as well as I do.”

  Cate’s panicked gaze darted around them as she considered her options, but they both knew she had nowhere to run.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I really am, but you’re coming back inside with me. Your grandfather will be wanting to speak with you.”

  Her bottom lip trembled.

  “I’m not leaving this maze without you.” His voice cracked. “So either you walk out with me on your own two feet, or I’m afraid I’ll have to carry you.”

  “No! You’re never touching me again!” she blurted out.

  Shame spiraled through him. He wanted to apologize again for his indiscretion, promise that it would never happen again, but he knew it wouldn’t make a difference.

  After a few long moments, her face collapsed in defeat.

  “Let’s go,” she mumbled.

  He kept three feet of distance between them as he guided her out of the maze, and when they emerged into the garden, she froze in place, her expression clouding over as she gazed at the house.

  “I don’t want to be here,” she whispered.

  Nik swallowed a lump of pain and met her helpless eyes. “This is where you belong,” he said simply.

  Chapter 29

  Noelle didn’t get back to the penthouse until later in the evening, after spending an exasperating day talking to various contacts, all of whom had zero intel for her. With that bastard Charron turning on her, she’d had to take even greater precautions before and after every meeting, and she was tired and annoyed as she stalked into the living room.

  Jim’s newest recruit was sprawled on the couch, his green eyes popping open at her entrance.

  “Where’s Jim?” she said in lieu of greeting.

  Ash hooked his thumb at the corridor. “Bedroom.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Sulking again?”

  “Not sure. He’s been holed up there for a couple hours with a bottle of tequila.”

  Fucking hell.

  Noelle scowled at the dark-haired rookie. “And you’re—what?—just catching a little nap while he drinks himself stupid?”

  “I drew the graveyard shift tonight. Gotta get some sleep before I go.” His voice contained a southern drawl that was no doubt a big hit with the ladies. “And if the boss wants to drink himself stupid, there ain’t much I can do about it, darlin’.”

  She raised her eyebrows. Not many men had the balls to use sugary endearments in her presence. Clearly this kid was fearless.

  “Go back to sleep, darlin’,” she said mockingly. “A growing boy needs his rest.”

  She heard him snickering as she headed for the bedroom, and she fought a smile. How did Jim always manage to find the most charming guys to work for him? She wondered whether it was a requirement for joining his team of scoundrels.

  She wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she strode into the bedroom, but it certainly wasn’t the sight of Jim sprawled on the bed, bare-chested and barefoot, with his eyes wide-open and a bottle of tequila tucked at his side.

  “Hey, baby,” he rasped. “Took your sweet-ass time getting home, didn’t cha?”

  Noelle sighed. “You’re drunk.”

  His sensual mouth formed a smirk. “Just a li’l bit.”

  “Wow. You’re a real bastard—you know that? Lying here shit-faced while everyone else carries out your mission.” Jaw tight, she gestured to the bottle. “Where’d you get that?”

  “I sent Ash to the liquor store.” Disbelief entered his voice. “Did you know you don’t have any tequila in the house?”

  Of course she knew. She purposely didn’t stock her bar with it because the blasted drink reminded her too much of this asshole.

  Even in his drunken state, Jim proved that he was still more than capable of reading her mind. “Shit,” he blurted out. “You don’t keep it around ’cause it makes you think of me, eh?”

  Noelle went to the foot of the bed and crossed her arms. “Get off your ass, Jim. You need to sober up and take control of yourself.”

  He ignored the command. “Why do you have to pretend you don’t think about me? We both know you do. You remember everything.”

  She shot him a cool look. “Remembering and thinking isn’t the same thing.”

  “Yeah, guess you’re right.” He raised the bottle to his lips and took a hearty swig. “Case you were wondering, I think about you.”

  She masked her surprise. “Yeah?”

  “Uh-huh. I think about you whenever someone passes me a saltshaker.”

  Noelle couldn’t stop the laugh that popped out of her mouth. “And why is that?”

  “’Cause you always oversalt your food.” He narrowed his eyes. “Do you still do that?”

  “I like salt,” she said defensively.

  He threw his head back and laughed, and the deep rumble made her heart skip a beat.

  Goddamn it. A sober, surly Jim she could handle, but an intoxicated, scarily candid one? She wasn’t equipped to deal with it, and she feared this encounter was veering into very dangerous territory.

  “Oh, and I think about you when I jerk off.”

  Her breath caught. “Really.”

  His blue eyes smoldered. “It’s the fastest way for me to come.”

  She didn’t know whether to be insulted or flattered. Or maybe a bit of both. What she did know was that Jim was positively plastered. The alcohol had brought a flush to his cheeks and a slur to his words, and she knew that when he sobered up, he’d probably regret every word he was saying to her.

  “Admit it,” he taunted. “It’s the same for you. No man has ever fucked you the way I do.”

  Noelle briefly closed her eyes, trying to tamp down her rising desire. “Why are you in here drinking?” she said quietly.

  He barked out a laugh. “What else am I s’posed to do? Watch Dietrich’s house like a pathetic fool hoping to catch a glimpse of my kid? What’s the point? My daughter doesn’t want to see me. She’d rather live with a criminal than be with me.”

  “What did you expect? Dietrich is the only parent she’s ever known.”

  Bitterness hardened his tone. “Shoulda been me.”

  Noelle arched a brow. “I take it you’re about to blame me again?”

  “Nah. Not your fault. My fault,” he mumbled.


  This time she couldn’t hide her surprise. “Since when?”

  “Since always.”

  He struggled to shift into an upright position, the muscles of his chest bulging and flexing. With a grumble of annoyance, he finally slid up against the headboard and tried to place the tequila bottle on the nightstand.

  He wasn’t successful—the bottle wobbled, bobbled, and toppled right off the table. Amber-colored liquid spilled all over the floor, forming a puddle next to the bed.

  “Shit,” he muttered. “Sorry.”

  She stifled a groan. Wonderful. First a fistfight that had left the bedroom a glass-covered mess, and now tequila soaking into the hardwood—she and Jim were well on their way to destroying her home.

  “Anyway...not gonna blame you,” he went on, rubbing his eyes with his fist. “I used you, remember? I used you, and you got your revenge by warning Ariana about me.” His powerful chest rose as he drew a breath. “She needed to be warned. I was using her too, y’know.”

  Noelle took an irritated step away from the bed. “I’m not in the mood to attend your pity party, Jim. Come find me when you’re sober.”

  His husky voice stopped her before she reached the door.

  “Don’t go.”

  When she turned to face him, she saw that his hand had moved to his waistband, uncoordinated fingers fumbling with his zipper.

  She sighed again. “You’re in no condition for that.”

  “Says who?”

  And then he pulled out his cock, leaving no question as to whether or not he was up for it.

  His erection, long and hard, jutted out enticingly. Noelle glimpsed the drop of moisture pooling at his tip, and her body responded accordingly, growing wet and achy and unbearably hot.

  “C’mere and ride me,” he commanded.

  She ignored the desire tingling between her legs. “That’s probably not a good idea right now.”

  “Sure it is.” He yanked off his pants and boxers, and threw them aside. “C’mon, baby, I need the distraction.”

  She supposed she could have said no, but how often did an opportunity this delicious come along? There was nothing sexier than the sight of Jim stretched out on the bed, gloriously naked and hers for the taking. The tight ripples of his abdominal muscles, his sculpted pecs, the dusting of dark hair that arrowed down to his groin—everything about him radiated potent masculinity.