by Cynthia Eden
Carly didn’t speak.
Anger flashed on Victor’s face. “Dammit, a man’s life is at stake here! You need to help—”
“Dr. Nelson can’t tell what he doesn’t know.” Her voice was low. “I’ve always been very careful with my shrinks. They know I was raped—”
Victor’s face tensed.
“But they don’t know what else happened.” Her hand caught Ethan’s. “Some things, no one else knows.”
“Enough,” Ethan snarled. “Get the fuck out of her hallway and come inside. You want to question us, fine, then do it. But you aren’t putting her pain on display for the world to see.” Her courage was humbling him. She’d always done that, though. Fucking humbled me.
Did she realize it?
Victor came inside. Charles followed him. Ethan made sure the door was shut and the alarm reset.
“How can I help Dr. Nelson?” Carly asked. “Because I don’t want him suffering for me. I don’t want that happening to anyone.”
Victor nodded. “Then I need a list, Ms. Shay. I need a list of the people who might be gunning for you. I need to know who would be so desperate that he’d abduct a shrink, just because he wanted to know your secrets.”
But it wasn’t really Carly’s secrets that Ethan believed the attacker wanted. “There’s one man you need to be investigating.” His smile was bitter. “I mean, investigating more than me.” Because he’d known he was on the FBI’s radar for years. “Curtis Thatch is the man you need to be looking at...”
He saw recognition flare in Monroe’s eyes.
“That’s right,” Ethan told him. “Quincy’s younger brother.” One who had smartly changed his last name so as not to be painted by that infamous brush. “Sometimes, families can be fucking killer.” Ethan knew that with utter certainty. “You think the psycho apple fell far from the tree? Just because Curtis got himself an MD and a job in a fancy hospital? Think again. The need for revenge can lurk in a man’s heart for years, and when the opportunity presents itself…” He smiled. “Vengeance erupts.”
Chapter Six
The club was dark. Cavernous. Carly stood in the middle of the place as the lights flashed on all around her. Reflections. The new club that she was supposed to be promoting. Ethan’s club.
They were alone in that club, and she should have felt safe.
She didn’t.
Agent Monroe had revealed to her and Ethan that Curtis Thatch had taken a sabbatical from his job as a trauma surgeon at Glenlake Hospital in upstate New York. None of his acquaintances seemed to know exactly where Curtis had gone. He’d locked up his house and headed out.
Five days ago.
“We don’t have to do this now,” Ethan said as he strode from the back. The bar gleamed to his left. A long, marble bar that she could easily imagine packed with men and women on opening night. “Trust me, this shit can wait.”
But Carly shook her head. “Trust me, waiting is the last shit I want to do.”
His lips quirked.
“I need to stay busy. If I’m not busy, then I’m just thinking—again and again—about Dr. Nelson.”
“The guy is a prick, Carly.”
“Whatever he is—he doesn’t deserve to be tortured.” And she kept seeing that in her head. Him, being handcuffed. Threatened. Killed? “I never told any of my shrinks specifics. It seemed safer that way. None of them can give up info on me.” But now she wondered—were the others at risk, too? Was everyone she’d come in contact with over the years in danger? Her breath caught as she had that thought and Carly surged across the club toward Ethan. She grabbed his arm. “My sister! Julianna, she’s—”
“Safe, Carly. Julianna is totally safe. Did you forget, her new lover happens to own his own bodyguard business? I briefed Devlin on the threat before I left D.C. There’s no way he will let anyone get close to her.”
Her breath eased out, but her heartbeat didn’t slow down.
“Nothing will happen to her. I promise you that.”
Julianna was her step-sister, and she was the only family that Carly had. Carly’s mother had died when she was a baby and her father—he’d finally drank himself to death years ago. Literally right after her nightmare with Quincy. She’d needed her father to be there for her. Needed it so much.
But he’d been in a bottle instead. And then he’d just been—dead. Only a few days after her time in hell with Quincy.
Rely on yourself, Carly. Trust yourself. Everyone else lets you down. But…Julianna hadn’t let her down. Carly had learned—too late—that her sister had paid a terrible price for Carly’s crimes. She wouldn’t let Julianna suffer again.
“Do you have your men searching for Dr. Nelson?” She suspected that he did, and she needed to know the truth. She just didn’t know how much information it was safe for her to ask about. Before, he’d worried about listening devices at her apartment, but what about this club? Since it hadn’t officially opened yet and access to the place had been limited, did that mean it was safer than her home?
Or was the FBI already monitoring every single inch of Reflections?
“I have teams looking for him,” Ethan said.
That was good to know.
“And teams are also looking for Curtis.”
The name made her tense as she eased away from Ethan. “Have you met him?”
“Years ago. On the second anniversary of his brother’s disappearance, he came to see me.”
That was scary. “What did you tell him?”
“I didn’t tell him anything, not at first. He told me that he’d make me pay. That he figured I was the one behind Quincy’s disappearance.”
She paced a few feet away. Her hand touched the top of the bar. The surface felt cold to her.
“I told the guy he needed to wake up and smell the damn coffee. He was acting as if Quincy was some noble hero, when the world knew what a piece of shit he was. I asked Curtis if his life was better or worse without his big brother…”
She glanced back at him. “What did he say?”
“He left. I didn’t hear from him again, not directly, not until Duvato started trying to make deals with the FBI.”
Carly absorbed that information for a moment, then said, “But Curtis isn’t part of his brother’s criminal group, right? I mean, that gang is all gone now.” She hoped. “And you said he was a doctor—”
“I don’t know exactly what Curtis is. But I will.”
She had no doubt that he’d learn plenty. Her gaze returned to the bar. Focus on business. Stop being so afraid. “We’ll, ah, we’ll get promos going on all the major TV and radio stations and we’ll make sure that people understand opening night is—”
“Are we going to talk about it?”
Her shoulders tensed. “It?” She looked into the mirror that waited a few feet away. People who came to the bar would see their reflections in that mirror as they drank and partied. The mirror served to make the club look even bigger on the inside—actually, there were mirrors everywhere. That was where the name came from.
Reflections.
On the ceiling. On the walls. Mirrors nearly enclosed the club.
She stared at her reflection and saw a pale woman, one who had eyes that seemed too big. Ethan walked up behind her. Dark and dangerous Ethan. Handsome in such a killer way.
“It,” he said again. He didn’t touch her. “You know, the awesome sex we had last night.”
Her lips curled. “It was pretty awesome.” Amazing. And she hadn’t been afraid, not with him. He’d been right—it had just been her and him. No ghosts.
“Don’t overwhelm my ego.” His head inclined.
Laughter slipped from her. “I don’t think your ego has any problems. I don’t—” She broke off because his expression had altered so completely. Hardened—nearly turning to stone. She whirled toward him, alarm flaring in her. “Ethan?”
He caught her around the waist and lifted her up, sitting her on that bar. Then he moved his hands away from her, f
ast, almost as if he didn’t trust himself to touch her. He slapped his hands down on either side of her body. “You haven’t done that in a long time.”
“Done what?”
“Really laughed.” He cleared his throat and said, “I think I’d forgotten what your laugh sounded like.”
Her hands rose and settled along his shoulders. “And I can’t remember the last time I heard you laugh, and honestly mean the sound.”
“My life isn’t about laughter.”
“Then what’s it about?”
“Being a tough SOB. Staying two steps ahead of the competition. Showing no weakness.” He shook his head. “But I screwed up.”
“How?”
“You.” His golden gaze seemed to bore right into her. “You’re my weak spot, and I think too many people know it.”
“Ethan—”
The lights that he’d turned on suddenly flashed off. She tensed, but didn’t cry out. The building had recently been renovated. A few lighting issues should be expected. Typical. Nothing to worry about.
Right?
Then her phone rang, vibrating in her pocket. The vibration made her jump.
The club wasn’t in total darkness. It was daylight outside, so she could still see fairly well, since some of the sunlight trickled inside Reflections, but unease slithered through her.
“The breaker,” Ethan said. “I’ll go check it.”
Her phone kept ringing. Was it so wrong that she wanted to grab him and say that she’d come with him? He’s just checking the breaker. Relax.
When he moved back, she jumped from the bar and pulled her phone from the pocket. But when she saw the caller ID on the screen, shock and relief rocked through her. “Dr. Nelson!”
Ethan froze, just a few steps away.
She put the phone to her ear. “Dr. Nelson! Where are you? Where—”
“He’s…coming for you…” Static crackled on the line. “Get…out…”
Get out? “Where are you? The FBI is searching for you!”
“Bomb…wants to take out you…and Ethan…knows…”
That one word went straight through her. Bomb. “Ethan.” The phone nearly fell from her hand as she stared at him. “Bomb. Nelson says there is a bomb!”
But where was the bomb? At her apartment? At the PR Firm?
Dear God…at Reflections?
“Get out…” Nelson’s words were a rough tangle of sound in her ear. “Of…club…”
How did he even know she was in the club?
But Ethan was grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the front door. She ran with him, desperate to escape. If a bomb was inside, just how much time did they have? Carly feared the explosion would go off at any moment, rocking the building and killing them both.
Ethan shoved open the door. He pushed her out front, then followed but—
A man was in her path. A man with blond hair and green eyes. Eyes that were familiar to her.
Those eyes widened when he saw her. “Ms. Shay. We need to talk.”
He needed to get out of her way. They all had to get out of there.
“You don’t know me,” the guy continued, side-stepping when she tried to get around him. “But I’m Curtis Thatch. And—”
He didn’t get to say anymore. Because Ethan had just driven his fist into the guy’s face. Curtis went down, slamming into the ground. And Ethan wrapped his arm around Carly’s waist. “Move, move, move…”
Only he wasn’t giving Carly the chance to move. He was carrying her and running and Curtis was stumbling after them.
Then Reflections exploded. She and Ethan hurtled toward the ground, and even when they hit, he was on top of her, shielding her with his body. She could feel the lance of fire against her skin, and for a moment, she stopped being able to hear anything at all. The boom had been so loud and the sudden silence after it was startling—no terrifying. At first, she feared that her ear drums had burst.
She could see Ethan above her. His mouth was moving. What was he saying? What—
“—Baby, where are you hurt?”
His voice hit her like a drum, each word pounding through her. Carly shook her head. She didn’t feel particularly hurt. Maybe some bumps. Maybe some bruises, but she was okay. She hadn’t burned alive so that was a serious win in her book.
Ethan rose slowly and pulled Carly to her feet. Her shoes crunched on something and when she looked down, she saw shattered pieces of glass littering the ground. Not just glass—mirror. Broken mirror chunks were everywhere. So much more than seven years bad luck…
“Is she hurt?”
Her head whipped to the left. Curtis Thatch was there. His clothes appeared ash-covered and blood dripped from a cut on his cheek. He started running toward her. “Is she okay?”
Before he could reach her, Ethan grabbed the other man. He shoved Curtis to the ground. “Stay the hell away from her!”
But Curtis didn’t stay down. He surged right back to his feet. “I’m a doctor, dammit! I can help her!”
She didn’t need help. Her ears were ringing, but she was fine. Her gaze slid to the burning building. So much for Ethan’s new club, but at least they were okay. Alive.
Ethan caught her hand in his. His fingers threaded with hers. “We have to get out of the open…It’s not safe like this.”
But bystanders had gathered around them. A thick crowd, seeming to come from nowhere. A cop was there, too, trying to control the scene, but madness was taking over. So much madness.
A dark SUV slid to a stop near the curb. She wasn’t surprised to see Agent Monroe leap from that vehicle. He rushed toward her and Ethan.
Another hand grabbed her, trying to yank her away from Ethan. She looked up and into Curtis’s eyes. No wonder they’d seemed familiar. They were the same shade of green that Quincy’s had been. For just a moment, past and present blurred for her. She screamed and kicked at him.
“No, no, I want to help you!” Curtis said. He swore and tightened his grip. “Let me—”
He didn’t say anything else. Because Ethan attacked. Not just a punch this time. Not some shove. Ethan launched his body at the other man and tore into him with a fury. Violent. Hard. Primal. Again and again, Ethan slammed his fist into the other man.
Curtis didn’t hit him back. Carly wasn’t even sure if Curtis could fight.
“Ethan…” Carly barely whispered his name.
His head swung toward her.
And that was when Agent Monroe grabbed him. Victor yanked Ethan away from Curtis and pushed him to the side. Only Ethan didn’t seem to realize that an FBI agent had grabbed him. He whirled and lunged right for Victor.
“No!” Carly cried. But it was too late. Ethan had driven his fist right at Victor. And blood had just poured from the agent’s busted lip.
“That’ll do it,” Victor snarled. “Assaulting a federal officer. Ethan Barclay, I think your ass is finally getting locked up.”
Carly glanced behind Ethan. Reflections was still burning. And the cops—they were all closing in. Not on her.
On Ethan.
***
Ethan was used to being inside an interrogation room. Over the years, he’d gotten plenty of interrogation experience. So he sat back and made himself comfortable as he waited. He glanced at his hands. His knuckles were red. Scratched. And he still smelled like fire and ash.
My club…destroyed.
But it had just been a building. Wood, bricks, and mirrors. Reflections could be replaced. If something had happened to Carly, if she’d been hurt—there would have been no replacing her.
The door opened. Agent Victor Fucking Monroe stood there. The guy looked cocky and arrogant. That wouldn’t last long.
Ethan just lifted a brow as the other man approached him and sat down at the little table in the room.
“For someone who just committed a major screw-up,” Victor drawled. “You don’t look particularly concerned.” He tilted his head to the side. “No lawyer?”
“Sophie is
in D.C. If I need her, she’ll be here immediately.” But he didn’t think he needed Sophie Sarantos, not just yet. He also didn’t want to pull her into this mess, not until he figured out exactly what was happening. He and Sophie had been friends since they were kids, but the woman was happy now. All snug and in domestic bliss with her fierce bastard of a lover. While Ethan didn’t always like the guy, he respected the hell out of Lex Jensen. Lex was fanatical about Sophie’s safety, so if Victor called in his lawyer and Sophie came to New York, he knew that Lex would be in tow, too.
“Oh, I think you’ll need her,” Victor said. He touched his lip. Yeah, it was busted. So what? “You assaulted a federal officer, and I got about ten witnesses who say you also assaulted Curtis Thatch, when all the guy did was say he was a doctor who wanted to help.”
Ethan laughed. “I don’t believe in coincidences. They just don’t happen.”
A furrow appeared between Victor’s eyebrows.
Did he really have to break this shit down? Fine. “My place explodes, and just who happens to be standing outside my door? Curtis Thatch. Standing there, just waiting for us to run right out after Dr. Nelson calls with his desperate warning…”
“We’re still trying to locate Nelson,” Victor said. “I’ve got techs trying to track his phone.”
“Good for you,” Ethan murmured.
Victor’s blue eyes narrowed.
“Coincidences,” Ethan continued, giving a shake of his head. “No, it wasn’t by chance that Curtis was out there. He was waiting for us. Maybe he planted the bomb and he wanted to see for himself when Carly and I both were blown to hell. Maybe he’s one of those hands-on types.” He shrugged. “You’re the FBI agent. You figure that crap out.”
Victor leaned toward him. “You’re right. I am the FBI agent. And I’ve definitely figured out one thing in particular. You’re dangerous. Unstable. You can’t be trusted to keep Carly Shay safe, and I think you’re a threat to everyone you meet.”