by T. M. Cromer
“A little, but only because your brother is a cunning wanker.”
She hit the speaker button so she could continue to prepare the pie. “He is at that. I’m going to murder him.”
“I take it you are alone right now?”
“I am. And you?”
“Yes. In my bedroom, fantasizing about a gorgeous blonde I met some time ago.”
“Really? Was she hot?”
“Very. What are you wearing?”
GiGi grinned. Men were so easy. “Nothing but a sheet.”
“And that dumbass husband of yours hasn’t made a move? Trouble with his plumbing?”
A prickle of awareness tickled her spine. Turning, she spied Ryker in the doorway. His arctic stare was felt to the bone. Slowly, with great deliberation, he stalked to where she was rooted to the spot. She was like a damned squirrel in the middle of the road—unable to retreat to save its own life.
“GiGi? You there, love?”
“I… uh, I’ve got to go,” she stammered.
“I think that’s a very good idea,” Ryker bit out. He reached her phone before she did. “Don’t call back until after the divorce if you value your life, Drake.”
“I think Gi—”
Ryker disconnected before Sebastian could finish his protest. Without lifting his gaze from the smartphone in his hand, he said, “I came back to try one more time to make you see reason. Imagine my hurt and surprise to find you joking with your new lover about my plumbing.”
“He isn’t. We weren’t. Not like that.”
The eyes he lifted to her were the eyes of a stranger. A cold, dead-inside stranger. “You succeeded in making me see the truth. Congratulations.”
He glanced back at the device in his hand. A quick scroll found him the number he searched for. Ryker left it on speakerphone, and when Alastair’s voicemail message echoed in the kitchen, her husband growled, “Game over, Alastair. Remove the spell, or I’ll set fire to this fucking house. You have ten minutes.”
He hit the disconnect and dropped her phone on top of the pie crust.
“You may want to gather anything you don’t want burned to a cinder,” he said. All emotion but iciness was gone from his tone.
“Ryker, please.”
“I’m done. In ten minutes, you can call Drake back and apologize for my rudeness. I’m sure you’ll both have a blast laughing at my expense. Be sure to tell him how pathetic I was to think we could salvage our marriage. That should get a chuckle.”
“No, Ryker! It wasn’t like that!”
In all the time she’d known him, there was never anything but adoration for her in his expression. Now, seeing his countenance wiped clean of all but dispassion and borderline hatred, she realized what she’d thrown away in her stubbornness.
“I love you,” she whispered with dawning horror that she’d truly lost him.
“I don’t care.”
6
As Ryker thumbed through his papers, deciding what to keep and what could be left behind, GiGi rushed into the room.
“I don’t want to be done,” she declared.
Snorting his disbelief, he held tight to the fury he’d felt in the kitchen. Hearing her tease and flirt with Sebastian had brought to light their real circumstances.
Truth one: inasmuch as it cut out his heart, Ryker recognized they were done. He could never repair what was broken because she wouldn’t let him. She didn’t want to bridge the gap. She enjoyed being a free agent.
Truth two: she liked Sebastian Drake for more than friendship. In the minute of conversation Ryker had overheard, he recognized her interest in another man. Maybe that’s why his anger had morphed into a living, breathing thing.
“Christ, GiGi! Just accept that you’ve won. You wanted to crush my heart and pay me back for all the wrongs you think I’ve committed. You did what you set out to do.” He started to blindly fling papers into his briefcase. “Leave me the fuck alone.”
“No, I—”
“What will it take? Huh? What?” Ripping the wedding ring from his finger, the band she’d lovingly inscribed, he flung it away. She flinched when it clattered to the floor. “There. Maybe you can melt it down and have it remade for Drake or whomever the hell you want next.”
“Ryker, I made a mistake.”
“Swap the name from Ryker to GiGi, and you have the same excuse I offered.” He looked her in the eye and said the one thing he knew she’d never forgive. “I lied. I did sleep with Marguerite the week I was there. More than once. Just as I’m sure you’ve slept with Drake.”
Her arms folded across her waist, and a harsh sob escaped her lips. “You’re just saying that to be cruel. You didn’t.”
“Do yourself a favor and stop being a delusional fool, sweetheart. Men are bastards who cheat. That’s what you tell yourself on those cold, lonely nights, isn’t it? If you’re with good ol’ Sebastian long enough, he’ll do the same. Or maybe he won’t. Either way, good luck.” A sharp snap of the locks, and he lifted the case. He closed his eyes and brought up the image of Alastair’s living room. His cells warmed as his magic ramped up, but still he couldn’t teleport. “Goddamn him!”
Drawing on his metal element, he picked up a small steel paperweight and expanded it to create a baseball-sized sphere and packed it with all the power he possessed. A hard lob at the study window knocked out the frame with its bulletproof glass.
Freedom, at last. As he turned to bid sayonara to his soon-to-be-ex wife, the sun glinted off an object the distance.
Intruder? Enemy? Then it clicked—Sniper!
Ryker’s instincts kicked into overdrive. He dropped his case and lunged for GiGi. “Get down!”
His order caused her to jerk, and that small movement, combined with his tug on her hand, was enough to remove her from the bullet’s trajectory. The vase, which had been in direct line with her heart, shattered.
“Get to the panic room, GiGi,” he ordered briskly.
“What about you?” Her eyes were wild, darting around in an attempt to find the threat. The ironclad grip she had on his arm was on the verge of painful. “I’m not going without you.”
“I’ll be right behind you. Now go. I need you to get to safety.”
She nodded and crawled for the door. Two more bullets splintered the wood of the doorframe. Freezing in place, she shot him a frantic glance.
“One sec.” He kicked the front panel of his desk and exposed a small arsenal of weapons. Checking the safety was off, he handed her a small .32 caliber Beretta. “It’s got hollow-point tips. It’ll do some damage. Now go.”
He didn’t bother to watch her leave, instead packing as many weapons as he could carry wrapped in his sheet: four knives, two 9mm guns, a few smoke grenades, and an assault rifle. The Thornes tended to rely on magic, but Ryker found in his line of work there were times he needed something a little more substantial in the event Blockers were present. He didn’t care to be caught with his ass out in a fight, but with no clothing to tuck his weapons into, his sheet sling would have to do.
He could hear shouting and the sound of feet pounding the ground. Daring a glance outside, he could see a handful of uniformed men closing in. How they’d discovered where he lived was anyone’s guess. Why they had targeted GiGi in the first shooting attempt was a little easier to reason. By taking her life, their assailants believed they could strike at the heart of him. That perhaps he would be so devastated he failed to fight back. But they hadn’t counted on the couple in question. Ryker would annihilate anyone who hurt his wife.
Grabbing a roll of clear fishing wire, he quickly rolled out fifteen feet and tied the end to the pin of the smoke grenade. He jammed the panel of his desk in place as the first soldier crested the low stone wall surrounding their garden. Resting the barrel of his gun on the flat surface, he sighted and squeezed off three rounds. Two to the chest to slow the guy’s approach and one to the head to take him out. One down, Goddess knew how many more behind him. Concentrating his magic, he lifted the window frame
back into place. It wouldn’t stop anyone, but it might slow them down when they had to pull it back out from its mooring.
Wasting no time, he wove the wire around the closest chair and across the opening the attackers would need to traverse to get inside the house. It wasn’t the best trip wire Ryker had ever rigged up, but it would have to do.
He snatched up his briefcase and took off at a run toward the center of the house. He turned the corner and stopped short in the entry of the panic room. GiGi had her back to the wall and her gun pointed directly at his chest.
“Now’s your chance to be rid of me. No one would know it wasn’t our attackers.”
“Shut up, you damned fool, and get inside.” She pointed to the television monitor. “They are coming en masse. I’ve already placed a call to Alastair, but I got his voicemail.”
He heard the fear in her voice. “Call Knox Carlyle. He’s closest and the most level-headed. He’ll know what to do.”
Turning around, he slid the faux-wall panel used to hide the room back to its original position, magically sealing the edge to blend with the existing wall. The long, three-inch-thick metal rods locked into place and secured them inside.
GiGi became more agitated as she failed to reach Knox. “Do you think whoever is behind this has attacked the others first?”
Christ, he hoped not.
“We can’t think like that right now, sweetheart. Let’s get dressed and use the escape hatch, okay?”
* * *
“Dressed?” GiGi wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “How the hell can we get dressed when all our clothes disappeared last night?”
Ryker didn’t answer but went to a keypad and entered a code. A long, deep drawer popped from the wall. Inside there were two sets of clothing: his and hers.
“Those were here the entire time?”
“Yep.”
She felt as if her head was going to explode. For the last eighteen hours, she’d been forced to wear a freaking sheet, and he knew there were clothes stashed in the panic room? In short, jerky motions, she dropped her sheet and pulled on her underwear.
He stopped in the process of dressing to watch her.
“What?” she snapped.
“I like watching the jiggly bits.” He smirked, and GiGi fought an answering grin.
“In case you forgot, the enemy is about to penetrate our defenses. How about you hurry it along?”
He tore his hot gaze from her semi-naked body and scrambled into his own clothing. Squatting, he untied his bundle and started hiding weapons on his person. He handed her a knife. “If you’re attacked, pretend it’s me and go for the jugular.”
“Funny,” she muttered as she pulled on a pair of combat boots. “How did you know these would fit?”
He lifted a brow as he dragged on his own footwear.
“Never mind. What now?”
“Now we wait. Hopefully, we’ll overhear something important or at least be able to tell how many soldiers are out there.”
“Soldiers? What makes you think they are military?”
Ryker tapped the closest screen. “See the emblem there? Witches’ Council.”
Horror flooded her being, and she broke out in a cold sweat. Escaping the Council would become a life-long pursuit. She spun to face him. “Why?”
“Maybe spies aren’t allowed to quit.” He shrugged. “Or maybe Beecham is behind this. It’s possible they aren’t truly Council military but are dressed to look like they are. Who knows?”
He slid another drawer open and removed a set of keys, two passports, and money.
“Ryker, couldn’t we conjure what we need?”
“I have no idea if Alastair’s spell will carry past the boundaries of the walls. I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
“Why are you bothering to see to my safety?” she asked quietly.
He froze in tucking the passports into the black duffle he’d dug up. With a snort and a shake of his head, he resumed packing the bag.
She laid a hand on his arm, and he flinched.
“Ryker, look at me. Tell me why you’re bothering.”
“If you don’t know the answer, you’re an idiot, GiGi.”
“Fifteen minutes ago, you were ready to exit my life for good.”
“Yep. But leaving you alive and safe, is a whole helluva lot different than leaving you dead, isn’t it?”
She heard the hurt and anger in his voice. By speaking to Sebastian, she’d crossed a line in his book.
“He could never be you,” she said softly. “No one could.”
He stilled.
For a long moment, she thought he wouldn’t say anything, but then he turned burning eyes to her.
“How the hell can you say that to me now? Is this a game to you?”
“No.” She shook her head to emphasize her denial. “Never.”
Her heartbeat maintained a hard, rapid thudding until he spoke again.
“None of that matters right now. If we get out alive—and that’s my fervent hope—then we can discuss this.”
“No, Ryker. You need to know how much I love you.” GiGi clutched his arm, desperate for him to understand. If they didn’t make it out of this, she wanted no more lies or regrets. “And I don’t care if you… slept with Marg—”
“She-who-shall-not-be-named,” he inserted.
“Right. Her. I don’t care. It’s in the past.” Goddess, those words were hard to say. In fact, they felt ripped from her very vocal cords just to voice.
“The past has been our present for a long time. You’ve made it so. How do you expect to exist without all the crosses you bear?”
A lead weight settled in her stomach, and her mouth dried up along with all the excuses and denials she wanted to hurl in his direction. She dropped her hand to her side.
“I suppose we should go.” She forced a small smile.
Ryker stared at her for another long moment, but GiGi couldn’t meet his eyes. She sensed his desire to speak, but in the end, he turned away. Squatting, he lifted a trapdoor that had blended so seamlessly with the floor, GiGi had overlooked it.
“Follow the stairs down and pause at the bottom. I’ll be down momentarily.”
Every few feet a motion-detector picked up her movement and illuminated the tunnel. She was curious where it led but waited for Ryker instead of exploring.
True to his word, he arrived shortly after her.
“Where does this lead?”
“To a hidden garage.”
She nearly stumbled. “The hidden garage? The one with the Corvette you’ve always refused to let me drive?”
His lips quirked. “That’s the one.”
“Ryker? Doesn’t it seem odd to you that we can leave now? Or do you think Alastair didn’t know to charm this tunnel?”
“This is part of our house, as is the garage. It could be we get there and can’t leave.”
“Surely, he’s set up for some contingency in the event of an emergency.” She tried to keep the alarm out of her voice and failed.
“I don’t know. I find it odd anyone found our house to begin with, but to break through the wards surrounding the property required strong magic. All things we’ll need to take a look at later. My first priority is to get you to safety.”
They walked in silence, keeping a brisk pace. It wasn’t long before they reached the trapdoor leading to the garage.
“I’ll go first. Count to twenty, and if you hear no gunfire, come out. If you do, throw the bolt from the inside and haul ass down the corridor on the left. It leads to the clearing and comes out by the standing stones.”
The stones he referred to were the ones hidden deep within the earth surrounding the clearing. When the Thornes needed powerful magic, they were able to call up the formation and altar with an ancient spell. GiGi went there often to meditate and commune with nature. It was one of the only places she could go to exorcise the ghosts of the past and soothe her overactive mind.
“If you have to, hide i
nside the altar. You can use your magic to create the oxygen you need for a few hours. No one would think to look for you there.”
“You’re making me nervous.”
“I believe in contingency plans, sweetheart. They’ve kept me alive this long.”
He turned to go, and she laid her hand on his arm.
“Ryker.”
With a deep sigh, he faced her.
“Please be careful. I…” She faltered. The set look on his face didn’t allow for sentiment. The spy had returned, and he was all business.
7
Ryker did his damnedest to keep his expression emotionless and his hands to himself when what he really wanted to do was crush GiGi to him and assure her everything would be fine. She was feeling sentimental because of their circumstances, that was all. He’d seen it hundreds of times before. Upon embarking on a mission, soldiers would become downright maudlin. They would have their friends promise to take care of this loved one or the other. Those same men would be the first to turn back into hardened assholes when they returned unscathed.
GiGi would rethink her stance when they were safe. She’d throw him right back into the bad guy column and go back to flirting with the likes of Sebastian Drake. Ryker couldn’t allow himself to care anymore. If it messed with his head, he’d be vulnerable in the field. He had to shift into complete business mode to survive. Cold and clinical saved the day—always. Emotion had no place in war games.
But dammit if her crestfallen look wasn’t getting to him. She lifted her chin and put on a brave face. Her courageous spirit struck right at the heart of him.
“For the record, I’ve always found she-who-shall-not-be-named repugnant,” he said gruffly. Without waiting for a response, he threw open the trapdoor and crawled through.
Ducking low, he ran for the far wall by the entrance and peered out the windows. Careful to keep close to the wall and out of a sniper’s line of sight, he checked each of the four directions. Keys in hand, he popped the hood of the ‘Vette to do a fast check. Everything seemed to be in working order. No added devices to blow up his car or rig it to breakdown. He quickly scanned under the frame.