by Jenna Ryan
Saying nothing, McCabe did what he had to do. He tied up Mockerie and his mother, ignored Bert’s softly uttered gibes and, reaching down, drew Rowena to her feet.
“You’re a cruel man, Ryan McCabe,” Bert whispered in Robbie’s tearful voice. “What son ties his own mother up?”
McCabe didn’t reply. He simply couldn’t.
Rowena had snapped the locket closed. Pulling it over her head, she handed it to him.
“This belongs to your great-aunt,” she said. “She should have it back.”
McCabe stared at the heart in his hand and felt his own crack. But then had he expected anything less?
In front of him, Rowena tilted her head sideways to regard his face. “For a man who’s spent his entire life hiding everything under the sun, moon, and stars, you’re ridiculously transparent at this moment. That’s Amanda’s heart. This.” Stepping up to him, she slid her arms around his waist. “This,” she repeated, putting her hand on her chest, “is mine.”
And holding onto him tightly she helped him walk across the floor to the elevator.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It could only end one way in McCabe’s mind. Mockerie would be locked up for the rest of his life, and he would leave Rowena. Again.
Her son was safe. Absolutely and without question. Robbie would be sent to prison as well, or more correctly to a hospital ward where psychiatrists would do their damnedest to figure out where the hell Bert had come from and discuss at length whether there was any chance of…what? Destroying her? Exorcising her? Crushing her into submission?
He’d driven to Mockerie’s desert home outside Las Vegas two hours ago. A million stars shone overhead and cactus stood like black statues beyond the front porch. Ignoring them, McCabe knocked back his third shot of tequila and watched a meteor streak through the sky.
He had the locket he’d given Rowena—and which she’d given back—open in his free hand. Ryan and James. Two young boys. Brothers if never friends. They’d worn their hair differently, even as children, and God knew their facial expressions had been polar opposites. But the resemblance was glaring to anyone who really looked.
It wasn’t quite so obvious these days, he reflected, setting down the glass and picking up the bottle next to him. In fact, in most people’s opinion it didn’t exist at all.
He sat with his feet propped and tried his damnedest not to think about Rowena. Instead, he needed to remember James. Recall vividly what his brother had become, how out of control he’d gotten in recent days, ever since he’d learned Rowena was alive. Years ago, he’d helped Bert kill their father, or so he and Bert claimed. Of the two hands that had performed the deed, McCabe suspected Mockerie’s had been the heavier one. However, back in those days, Bert had been able to manipulate to some degree the darkness that was obviously consuming his soul.
Had he enjoyed ending his own father’s life? Had the act been orgasmic in some monstrous way?
Could he have done anything to prevent Max’s death…?
McCabe had pondered that question countless times over the years. He’d had nagging suspicions about Robbie possibly being Bert for quite some time. Not his whole life or even close to it, but for a while now.
He’d seen Robbie change in subtle ways, become harder even though she continued to smile and carry on as if nothing was any different. If he’d been closer to her, maybe the changes would have been more glaring. Unfortunately…
The best he’d been able to do, given his uncertainty, was enlist Beckett’s help. And Beckett had been a willing watchdog, half in love with, but fully aware of what his distant cousin might be.
Poor damn Beckett. Robbie, or rather Bert, had used her wiles to catch him off guard. Dancer had discovered him gagged and bound, locked in the basement of the hotel in Carmina. There’d been a rat sniffing around his ankles and two more staring at him from a crate near his head…
Rowena would have been mortified.
He made an impatient sound. Not going there. Rowena deserved a life free from the insanity that ran like wildfire through his family tree. Great-uncle? Crazy. Two cousins? Crazy. Mother? Crazy. Brother? Incontrovertibly insane. And viciously homicidal. No fucking way was he going to drag the woman he loved into the quagmire of a world like that. She’d have enough to worry about watching for signs of the family trait in her son.
He heard a small sound, a whisper of fabric, from the doorway behind him. Instead of turning, he picked up the tequila bottle again, raised it to his mouth, and took a long drink.
“How’d you get in without me knowing?”
“I lived here once, remember? I know all the ways in and out.” There was no condemnation in her voice, only curiosity. “Why here, McCabe? This isn’t the first place most people would expect you to come.”
“Obviously you anticipated it.”
He caught the faint smile in her tone. “I went to the Lily Koi first. It’s being quietly closed down. For repairs is the story. For closer inspection of all its nooks and crannies is more what I’m thinking.”
McCabe shrugged. “The Lily Koi’s probably clean enough. The Silver Nugget was Mockerie’s Las Vegas mecca of drug and weapons lines. In and out. Cellar’s enormous.”
“I can imagine.” Her hand appeared and snagged the bottle. “Do you mind?”
“Be my guest.”
Strolling past him, Rowena settled on the porch rail. “It’s a beautiful night. I’ve just came from seeing Amanda. I wanted to take Parker with me, but your guard dogs said you felt it best to keep him hidden away a little longer. James knows a lot of people, and while they might not give a damn about him, his crumbling businesses interest them very much. Apparently, so do the more official individuals responsible for the current devastation. I’ve counted three men watching my every move. Discreetly, but close enough that it’s difficult to miss them.”
“Look closer, sweetheart. There are seven.”
“Yeah?” She drank and handed him the bottle. “Well, I’ve been distracted. Amanda’s going to be fine by the way.”
“I know.”
She stared at him from under the bill of her black Nike ball cap. “Why didn’t you tell me you and James were brothers?”
He regarded her at length. “Would you tell someone you loved about a brother like Mockerie? I disassociated years ago. Robbie and Amanda understood but… Don’t go there,” he warned when she opened her mouth to speak. “Yes, I suspected Robbie was Bert. Yes, I worked hard to deny it. But, no, I wasn’t stupid enough to believe that that need for denial came from a valid place inside me. She was well monitored. Not well enough as it turns out, but after Max’s death, all she ever gave Mockerie was advice. Believe me, Ro, if Robbie hadn’t been there as Bert, Mockerie would have invented his own support system. Hell, he’d have probably given it my name.”
Rowena sighed. “And now you’re convinced you’re infected, that because of Robbie and James and the other relative Amanda told me about, something horrible’s going to burst from inside you.”
Rather than explain why he did indeed believe that, McCabe simply nodded and drank again. “Yep.”
“How old are you, McCabe?”
“Thirty-seven. And don’t pretend to psychoanalyze me. I’ve talked to the best in the field. The possibility exists. I could wind up like my brother, my cousins, my great-uncle, and God knows how many others on Robbie’s side of the family.”
“Bullshit, McCabe.”
“Right, and that brilliant medical conclusion is based on what? Your feminine intuition?”
“To some degree, yes. I know more than you think about your family. Granted, I have no idea why you call James Mockerie, or where that name even came from, but I know your real surname is in fact McCabe.”
“That’s hardly an intuitive deduction.”
Sliding from the rail, she circled his chair slowly. As she did, she ran a finger over his shoulder. When she came to a halt behind him, she leaned over and said, “I’m aware of that. The fam
ily name thing was easy. Amanda confirmed it. What she didn’t say—probably because you made her swear not to—is that those two little boys in the locket who were very obviously brothers were actually much closer in age than some might think. In fact.” She set her mouth close to his ear. “Those two boys were and still are twins.”
…
Although Rowena couldn’t see his face, she had a feeling his expression would be dark and probably a little scary. He’d be pissed that she’d guessed the last snippet of his secret.
Not unexpectedly, he didn’t move or make a sound. Didn’t snap his head around. Didn’t react in any way. What could he do? Or say? Rowena had studied the photo of two five-year-old boys. There might have been a year between them, but every instinct she possessed said that simply wasn’t the case. And, God, how much worse must that have made all of this for McCabe?
“Say something,” she prompted him at length. “Tell me to fuck off if you have to, but give me some response. Some reaction.” She circled back around to face him. Strong, sexy, and-oh-so controlled. The antithesis of James in every possible way.
Instead of drinking this time, McCabe swirled what remained of the tequila. “If it’s in him, Ro, it’s in me.”
“Not necessarily.” She dipped down to look at him. “You’re not identical twins. And fraternals are no different than any other siblings. So, family, yes. Exactly the same, no.”
“It’s a close enough connection to scare the shit out of me.” He squinted into the amber liquid. “I’m going to the Middle East in two weeks. I just want to get Robbie settled, make sure Amanda’s back on Laurel Key under guard, and that you and Parker are safe. One hundred percent, no need to worry safe.”
“Really? Huh.” She plucked the bottle away. “Must be nice to be God.”
“Ro…”
“At the very least, you’re acting like a demi-god. Last I checked, I was still capable of making my own decisions.”
McCabe dropped his feet. She could tell he was controlling his anger. “This isn’t about decisions.”
“No, it’s about you thinking you can run my life. And Parker’s. He’s not going to become what his father is. I won’t let that happen. You don’t want to be James, then don’t let it happen. You’ve done a fine job of it for thirty-seven years. What makes you think you’ll suddenly change? From what everyone’s told me James never did. He was born bad and he’s bad today.”
Standing, McCabe stared her down. “The son of a bitch had the ability to charm a snake when he chose to, Ro. How would you know if I was or wasn’t putting on the same act?”
“Because I know you. I know exactly what you’ll do when I push you to the limit of your control.” Unafraid, she grabbed him by the front of his T-shirt, rose on her toes, and set her lips on his. Sliding her body up against his much harder one, she waited for him to respond. Or shove her away if he could.
The first thing he did was swear at her. Then he hissed out a breath, wrapped his hand in her hair, drew her head back, and covered her mouth.
He didn’t kiss her so much as devour. No teasing nips, no seduction. He simply took from her and let her do the same to him.
Rowena’s head swam, her blood sizzled, her skin felt hot enough to burn.
When he released her, it took several seconds for her vision to clear. Forget her brain. That was totally gone.
“Well, wow.” Her fingers continued to clutch his T-shirt. “I’m uh… What were we talking about?”
“We were talking about you being a fool. And me thinking about being an ever bigger one. It’s a dangerous game, sweetheart, and more than your life’s on the line here.”
Still a little off balance, she managed a smile. “I lived with James and survived. I had to ‘die’ to do it, but I did survive. Parker’s good. James is behind bars, and Robbie’s going to get the help she needs. I still don’t know exactly what happened in James’s white dungeon, what all the lights and music were about, but…”
“Carol Chambers,” McCabe interrupted. “She knows the hotel inside and out. When James killed her sister on the Irish Lady, she decided he needed to pay. So she did what she could to make that happen.”
“She hacked into the security system? Holy crap!” Rowena laughed. “Good for her. That’s how we got down into the white dungeon the first time, isn’t it? She bypassed the entry codes for us.”
“She also created that musical light show after Mockerie and Bert trapped us down there. Before that, she got a man named Martin Hood, who was apparently coerced into helping Mockerie, out of the country with his family. Hood had reasons for doing what he did. His wife is dying. He needed money to fund some very expensive treatments.”
“Sounds like she was a busy woman after her disappearance.”
“She wanted Mockerie to be beaten. It was Carol who sent me that text telling me that James was at the Silver Nugget. Unfortunately, the message was intercepted by Bert. As out of control as he was at that point, Mockerie killed the new manager of the Lily Koi to taunt me. I suppose in a way the guy he murdered got lucky. A few weeks ago, he would have been tortured for three days first.”
With her arms wrapped around his waist and random stars shooting all around them, Rowena tipped her head back to regard McCabe’s shadowed face. “Why do you call him Mockerie?”
“Amanda used to say he’d made a mockery of life, and of family. I thought it was the perfect description, so I started calling him that. It was meant to be a taunt. Unfortunately, he liked it.” McCabe quirked a brow at her. “When he was old enough to make the change, he took it as his surname.”
Rowena offered him an amused smile. “I wonder why? So.” After giving him another head-spinning kiss, she asked, “Where in the Middle East are we going, and for how long?”
“Seriously? You want to go to Abu Dhabi?”
“I want to go anywhere that isn’t here. With you and Parker. You’ll like him, McCabe. I’m hoping you’ll love him.”
His eyes narrowed. “And you’re not afraid? For either of you?”
It didn’t surprise her that he wasn’t convinced of his own mental and emotional strength. Not after everything that had happened. However… “Good thing for you, I’ve got enough belief in all of us for all of us.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “One step at a time, okay? One day at a time. We’ll be fine.” Reaching up, she teased the corners of his mouth. “And now that we’ve more or less resolved your problems, maybe I should tell you about my family. I have an uncle in Austria, McCabe, who swears his forbearers go all the way back to Vlad the Impaler…”
Epilogue
Mockerie sat quietly in a white room. The walls were padded, of course, and when he got violent, the restraints came out full force. But so far, he’d only gotten violent once. When an attendant had accidentally uttered McCabe’s name.
Since then, he’d been sitting in placid silence, cursing Bert for fucking up his life. For not being here with him. For allowing McCabe to be born. For not putting a bullet in Rowena’s knees when she’d had the chance.
During those few loud and confusing moments when he and McCabe had been fighting. Damn Bert. Damn Rowena. Damn McCabe!
He’d come into the world three minutes before his holier-than-thou brother. His brother who was deemed fit to be out there while he was stuck in here. Maybe he’d be able to find a way to bring McCabe in here with him. Not physically, of course, but after all, they were twins. They had the same specific gene pool. He could be both of them at the same time, and no one would ever know. Let the shrinks think he was recovering. Maybe eventually they’d let him see the light of day. And once he’d done that… Well, anything was possible. Anything at all.
He was plotting and planning when a blank-faced doctor came in accompanied by two guards. “How are we feeling today, James? Are we up to having company?”
Dr. Blank-face wore khaki pants and a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Using the royal “we.” All friendliness and ease. Well, two co
uld play that game.
“We’re good,” Mockerie answered in a pleasant voice. “Who’s the company?” Not McCabe, he prayed. He’d go all red and enraged if he saw his three-minutes-younger brother right now. “Not my mother, surely.”
“No, not her.” Dr. Blank-face smiled. “Your aunt Amanda.”
“I—” Mockerie frowned. He hadn’t expected this. “Where is she?”
“Outside, in the visitor’s area. You’ll have to talk to her through a glass barrier, I’m afraid, but you’ll be able to see and hear her. We’ll use headsets.”
With his answering smile fixed in place, Mockerie allowed himself to be brought to his feet and led to a sterile room that contained a row of hard chairs and several individual panes of thick glass.
He spotted Amanda instantly. Who could miss those pop-bottle glasses and that sweet eighty-plus-year-old face.
She already had her headset on. Once he’d donned his and sat, she smiled at him.
“Hello, dear. You look thin. I’d have brought you some of Beckett’s famous french toast, but he’s still recovering from a touch of rodent-phobia.”
Mockerie breathed deeply, in and out. “What brings you here, Auntie Am?”
“Oh, I just thought you might like to see a familiar face. I’ve already paid Robbie a visit. It seems she’s having trouble finding herself. I’m not sure she ever fully will. That makes me sad.” Her eyes behind the glass appeared curious. “Have you found yourself yet?”
“I’m getting there.” His teeth remained locked in a smile. Hopefully it didn’t resemble a grimace. What would it be like, he wondered, to slice into octogenarian flesh?
“I think you still have evil thoughts, James. Nasty tendencies that involve blood and pain. I want to condemn you for it, but you really do come by it honestly. Do you remember your great-uncle Edward? He was my brother, as you’re probably aware. You and Ryan met him several times. He was a beast of a man. Made you look like a mischievous angel by comparison.”