by Jenna Ryan
She didn’t fight his kiss right away. That would be shock. Once it wore off…
“You son of a bitch!” She tore her mouth from his and likely stopped just short of ramming her knee between his legs. “You knew I was in here, didn’t you?”
How a pair of ice-blue eyes could flash fire baffled him, but hers definitely did. She’d have slugged him if he hadn’t trapped her hands and held them firmly at her sides.
“Stop calling my mother names, and yes, I knew you were here.”
“How?” she demanded with the fire still flashing and her gaze locked on his.
“Let’s call it a strong hunch based on a week of observation, gut instinct, and deductive reasoning.”
She swore again, then struggled in his grasp. With the kiss lingering like fine wine on his tongue, McCabe released her and took a good long look.
She hadn’t opted for the traditional black of a cat burglar. Who could blame her in blistering hot Bogota? Instead, she wore a pair of tight faded jeans, a tie-dyed halter, and a cheap pair of sneakers. Her ball cap had seen better days, but then so had the Los Angeles Dodgers, whose barely legible logo still adorned it. She’d pulled her long black ponytail through the back and fastened a spiky silver bracelet just above her right wrist. It would do damage, he thought, if she had a chance to use it on someone’s face.
“You look good, Ro.” His gaze skimmed up and down her exquisitely toned body. “Really, really good.”
She turned away, then back to glare at him. “Did you know I was alive, specifically, or just that you were being followed?”
“I thought it might be you. Hoped it was. The opportunity was there—your body was never discovered—but I didn’t actually see you if that’s what you’re asking.”
She released a deep breath. “If you had suspicions, he will, too.” In two angry strides, she was back in front of him. Bunching his shirt in her fists, she said, “I can’t let that happen, McCabe.”
Something in the way she spoke had his eyes narrowing. “You’re worried about more than your own life.”
When she merely continued to stare, his stomach muscles tightened. “Your son’s?”
The fire faltered, though nothing else about her did. “His name’s Parker. He’s not even two years old yet. I hid him, or thought I did. I was so sure he was in a safe place. But somehow…somehow, James found him. He found him and he took him. I don’t know why. He never showed any particular interest when Parker was born. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, the man who’d been caring for him was dead, and Parker was gone.”
McCabe was curious. “Who was caring for him?”
She breathed in and closed her eyes, then breathed out and opened her eyes. “Buddhist monks. In India. I grew up with a friend who converted. There was no trail and no one knew except me and him. Even the Abbot at the monastery wasn’t told, not in any detail. Acceptance is their way, and they accepted Parker with open arms. I know this all sounds melodramatic, but there was no one else I could turn to. I wasn’t about to put anybody else’s life at risk because I screwed up.”
Something flickered in McCabe’s heart. He understood that she couldn’t put the grandparents who’d raised her at risk. They were older now and not as healthy as they’d been back in the day. But still… “You could have come to me.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You left me, McCabe. Just left. At first I was stunned, and then I was furious. I’m still angry. I probably always will be. You have so many responsibilities, so much going on in your secret world. I never understood any of it, because you never let me in. There was always a line I was never allowed to cross with you. No way was I going to burden you with my mistake.”
“Parker was a mistake?”
He thought for a minute she was going to slap him, but she refrained, balling her fists at her side. “No, you ass. Choosing to be with James was. He’s a monster.”
“So I’ve heard.”
She set her jaw. “There’s a quality you share with him, McCabe. Sarcasm. How long have you been after him? Back when we first knew each other, all I ever visualized was a phantom you felt compelled to destroy. In my mind he was a faceless, nameless person, a bit like the Invisible Man. But you were obsessed with him. He was your X factor, a brilliant shadow you couldn’t quite pin down.” She whirled, hugging her arms across her chest. “I had no idea until after I’d gotten together with James that he was that shadow, that obsession.”
“We’re square then.” McCabe kept his tone easy, though it cost him. “I had no idea you’d fall for his load of bullshit.” He held up both hands. “Sorry, that was out of line. I know how good an actor Mockerie can be.”
“I wouldn’t have fallen for anything, McCabe, if you’d been halfway truthful with me. You made me doubt myself. Or, no, I’ll rephrase that. I let you make me doubt myself, so damn it I’m angry at both of us.”
“Be angry at me, not yourself.” He caught hold of her before she could spin away. Her reactions had fascinated him back in the day—hot Irish blood, controlled but never completely caged by the cool Swedish ice of her grandmother. Looking into those incredible glacial eyes, he told her the truth flat out.
“Mockerie’s a bastard, Ro. A snake, with no conscience, no compassion, and only two goals in life. To make money and to kill me.”
…
Now that truly did sound melodramatic, or would have if Rowena hadn’t come to understand James Mockerie very, very well over the past three years. Three long years, during which time she hadn’t once laid eyes on Ryan McCabe.
She’d thought about him a great deal. Wished repeatedly that their feelings hadn’t been so intense, so overwhelming. He might have been a man of mystery, but he hadn’t left her because of his work. He’d run, at least in part, from emotions he couldn’t handle and a background he’d flatly refused to talk about. There’d been trauma in his past, she was sure of it. But beyond that… Who knew? And truthfully, as much as she loved solving a good mystery, McCabe’s secrets had been more than she could handle.
So, here they were, face-to-face once again in Bogota, Colombia, cocaine capital of the Western world and the last place on earth she wanted to be.
Her lips still tingled from his kiss. Her mind continued to reel, and every one of her senses was electrified. But she didn’t dare lose herself in any of that. An overwhelming physical attraction was all they’d ever had. She needed to hold on to the anger, remember what he’d done to her, how he’d left without any explanation. Parker’s safety was paramount. It was all that mattered. For her baby’s sake, she needed to concentrate on slipping away, on joining the land of the dead once again. McCabe could help her. He’d made people vanish before. Unfortunately, what he could do and what he would do might prove to be two very different things.
He took her to a crappy little bar in an alley that smelled like a compost bin from hell. None of the dozen or so people inside even bothered to lift their heads as the two of them walked in.
“I came for the phone I sent you.” Rowena stepped over the legs of a man propped up against the wall with an empty beer bottle in his hand. “I wasn’t banking on a side case of dysentery.”
“Tequila’s safe enough.” McCabe nodded at a table near the back of the room, away from any openings and people. “I wouldn’t trust much else.”
“I don’t like tequila.”
“They cut the rest with tap water. Only tequila’s sacred. The pricier the better.”
“In that case, bring on the gold.” She waited until they were seated on a pair of sticky chairs before she brought her gaze fully in line with his. “What’s in the phone is all I have to use as a bargaining tool for Parker. There’s information inside that James will want back. I’m not saying it’s enough to crush his little empire, but it could hurt him. Quite a lot. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s all I have. I sent you the phone so that if everything worked out for Parker and me, you’d have something that could start you on the path to bringing James dow
n. Now I need it back.”
McCabe merely stared at her. Taking that as a cue to continue, she sighed.
“I can’t be alive for any length of time, you understand that, right? My appearance changes quite frequently. Whenever I let myself be seen, which isn’t often, I have to become someone else.” She removed her sunglasses. Even with the dusty shadows swirling around her, she felt naked. “It may sound paranoid, but I always suspect that James has people watching me. Or watching for me. And now there’s you. Does he watch you, McCabe? Should I be worried about that as well?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
McCabe adjusted his ball cap. The bill blocked his eyes from her view. Probably for the best in the end. He had mesmerizing eyes. Deep, dark, and insightful. She wished she’d never seen them. Almost.
Once the tequila had been ordered—a fully sealed bottle—Rowena set her chin on her fisted hands and looked past him at an old woman who was almost ready to topple sideways out of her chair.
“I’m afraid James’s intention might be to turn Parker into a mini version of himself. I don’t know why that idea would suddenly have occurred to him, but he’s a man of unpredictable moods and hare triggers, something I discovered far too long after the fact to backpedal.”
She felt McCabe studying her. “So you went on the offensive.”
“Yes, and once I started to realize what James was, I made the decision to infiltrate his files. We’ll call them his dark files. It took me months to get past his firewalls. Even then, I only reached the first level. When he became suspicious, I had to stop. I downloaded what I could as a precaution. I’d already made plans to get Parker to safety.”
“Yeah, I got that part. Buddhist monk, monastery. Your friend’s dead.”
Her stare returned to his face and became a glare. “You still don’t mince words, I see. Yes, my friend’s dead. I’m just grateful that whoever kidnapped Parker didn’t harm anyone else at the monastery.”
“Look, I’m sorry about your friend, but the bottom line is, Mockerie has the child. Now, I have a question.”
“How did I do it?” She shrugged. “I’m going to say there was a lot of luck involved. I had my back to the water. And I’d already damaged the railing. I knew it wouldn’t take much of a hit for the wood to break and me to fall through. James walked toward me. I was wearing a long dress that blew in the breeze. What he didn’t see was that I had a rope tied to myself under the dress. Before James showed up, I secured the other end of the rope to one of the pylons below the dock. When he pulled the trigger, I had a small device in my hand, attached to my ring. All I had to do was squeeze my fingers, and it sent a signal to pop the vial of blood I had hidden under my dress. I fell back against the rail and into the water. It stood to reason he’d send Carson down after me, so I used the rope to hold on to the pylon because there was a strong riptide that night. I hid until Carson gave up searching—which wasn’t much of a wait since Carson’s not a fan of adverse water conditions.”
“And you knew James’s bullets would miss because?”
“I loaded blanks into the gun he always, always uses. I know how his mind works, McCabe, at least in certain, sadistic areas. He was never going to let me go. Possession is one of his obsessions. I’d become a possession. Killing me would have been his choice. Me leaving him would’ve been mine. No way was he going to let that happen. Once I was dead and I was sure Parker was hidden where he couldn’t be found, I was going to take him and disappear. Obviously, my plan didn’t work.”
McCabe was silent for a moment. “If it helps, I don’t think he knows you’re alive. Gut feeling,” he said when her brows went up. “I can probe a little if it’ll help. Mockerie’s been lying low since his number one, Ben Satyr, died three months ago.”
“I’ve heard of Satyr. He was scarred like James. Same ruthless nature, but minus the charm.”
She saw the corners of McCabe’s mouth quirk up into a faint smile. “You think Mockerie has charm?”
“When he chooses to, he has more than you might imagine.”
“I can’t imagine any.”
Amusement was so foreign to her these days she almost didn’t recognize it as it rose in her throat. “I’m hardly surprised. You not being a woman and all. Plus, he hates you, which, by the way, I didn’t realize at first. I would have if you’d bothered to give your phantom target a name, but constantly calling him ‘that bastard’ didn’t provide me with much of a clue as to his identity. And then, of course, just as things were getting serious between us, poof, you vanished.”
McCabe leaned forward. “I took an assignment, Ro.”
“To hell with that. You bolted without a word, not a single word of explanation. And you took my heart with you.”
“Not all of it, apparently.”
Her fingers longed to curl into a ball and take a swing at that too-tempting-for-words jaw of his, but in the interest of retaining her anonymity, Rowena checked the impulse. Instead, she responded with a cool. “No, not all of it. Are we done now?”
“That depends.”
She couldn’t read him, wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know what was running through his mind. Probably nothing good, not in terms of her at any rate.
“Look, just let me go, okay. No harm, no foul. What’s inside that phone I sent you was enough to point you in the right direction where James’s illegal activities are concerned. Bringing him down all the way will take time. I don’t have that time anymore. He has Parker and not a strong enough paternal instinct for me to believe he wouldn’t hurt him if he felt cornered. I need the phone back so I can trade what’s on it for Parker. Yes, I know James is unlikely to go for that, but it’s all I’ve got. I’m afraid of what James will do to Parker the longer he has him.”
McCabe sat back. “You think he’d harm his own son?”
“He might. He gets furious. Kids cry, old feelings surface. He’ll hate the memory of me by now. Parker’s part of me. I think he might very well kill his own child in a rage. And wrong or right, I don’t want to take the chance… Don’t,” she said when he reached for her hand across the table. “I like my heart where it is right now. Dead to all men.”
“Except one.”
“Parker’s not a man. And stop looking at me like you want to eat me. I’m not Red Riding Hood.”
“And I’m not a wolf.”
“But you are big and bad. Or, you can be.”
“More bad than big, I think. Two of my best agents have helped me blow down a couple of integral houses recently. The last one’s going to be the bitch.”
Rowena couldn’t help laughing. “You’re mixing your fairy tales, McCabe. But I get the point.”
She also experienced a painful tug in her chest when he shoved back the bill of his cap and she saw him clearly in the dusty bar light. Ryan McCabe had the most intriguing face she’d ever beheld. Every aspect of it was totally changeable. His eyes could slash, beguile, and seduce, all in the space of thirty seconds. His mouth could be both hard and sensuous, riveting when he smiled and a danger to her on every possible level. That mouth had roamed all over her body once and driven her to more climaxes than she could count. Or remember.
Don’t want to remember. Not his mouth, not his lean, muscular body, and not his dark wavy hair that was just long enough to be sexily messy. And then there were those shoulders that any athlete would kill to possess.
“Are you done?” Mild humor danced in his eyes.
Jolting slightly, she returned to the moment. “What? Yes. I got sidetracked.”
“I noticed.” This time he captured her hand and held tight. “We didn’t end things properly, Rowena.”
“We didn’t end them at all.” Leaving her hand in his, she went for the jugular. “We got too close. You panicked and ran.” Temper flared, but only enough to heat her words. “You smashed my heart into a thousand pieces. I knew I’d never be able to put it back together so I…”
“Married James Mockerie?”
&nb
sp; “Oh, for God’s sake.” She snatched her hand free. “Give me a break and a bit more credit than that. I’m not, and never have been, a needy female. I’m not weak-minded or weak-willed. You left, I dealt. I didn’t meet James until you’d been gone for six months. I wasn’t all that interested when I did meet him— And why am I telling you this anyway? My son’s in the hands of a monster, I’m determined to remain dead, and anything more we have to say to each other can wait until I come back to life. If I ever do.”
“You can’t get Parker back from the grave.”
“Thanks for the negative spin, but I say I can.”
“Yeah?” His gaze, shielded and contemplative, held hers. “How?”
She had no idea, but damned if she’d admit that. “I was able to orchestrate my own death in a believable fashion. It stands to reason I’ll find a way to liberate my son.”
He grinned and a piece of her heart melted. “Sounds like a big ‘I don’t know’ to me.”
It melted then froze. She scraped her chair back and tugged her ball cap down. “Leaving now, McCabe. Enjoy the tequila that’s evidently being served on Colombian time. If you do happen to bump into James at some point, kick his reptilian ass for me.”
“Not yet, sweetheart.” He stood as she did, blocked her path, and eased her into the deep shadows. “Before you go, don’t you think you should make sure you have the right phone?”
She blinked, then realized what he was saying. “You bas—” she began and raised her hand to slap him. Catching hold of her wrist, he swore and yanked her forward into a kiss that happened too quickly for her to sidestep.
Her head spun and took the entire bar with it. All the sins she’d ever committed swam through her mind. McCabe was decadence and danger and one more dagger to her badly wounded pride.
She fought past the onslaught of emotions and actually succeeded in yanking free. Breathing heavily, she regarded him close up. He was holding her by one arm. The other remained free. She could slap him or…