Hidden Sins

by Selena Montgomery

  Power sang through her veins and pulsed hot and strong. Only he could do this to her. Could make her forget and remember and not give a damn. Could cajole her into wanting what she could not have.

  Refusing to be seduced, she arched into him, wresting control. Now it was she who fed. In strokes of heady torment, she explored the nuances of a kiss. Soft, then sultry. Frenetic, then meditative. A benediction and a spur to race, to conquer. Unsatisfied, she lathed at the taut line of his neck, the strong muscles corded along his collar.

  He caught her breast on the edge of his palm, grazed its tip in search of the firm, delicate flesh. Victory mingled with a craving he hadn’t known before and he murmured her name into the air. “Mara. My Mara.”

  As her named floated up the cavern’s shaft, Mara bowed to give him greater access, her eyes wide with stunned pleasure. And she saw the flash of light at the top of the cavern before it gutted out. Lesley.

  Mortified, she wriggled free and unhooked her legs, jumping away as though scalded. In a hushed breath she hissed, “Lesley. She’s upstairs. Now.” And Lesley had seen her wrapped around Ethan, taking what didn’t belong. “Your girlfriend saw us.” Remembering the hushed endearment, she derided fiercely, burning with embarrassed anger, “Your Lesley. Your Mara. Why don’t you make up your damned mind?”

  Off balance, Ethan checked the precipice and saw the shadow disappear into the dim. Cursing steadily, he waited for his ardor to subside. Damnit, he hadn’t intended this—any of it. Not until he’d spoken with Lesley. He wasn’t a kid any longer, unable to control his urges. He was a man with responsibilities, and he’d allowed himself to forget. As he habitually did when he was with Mara. The real world fell away, and she became all.

  But his clumsiness wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own. At the least, he owed Lesley an explanation, certainly an apology. The latter, he realized, would be easier. But how could he explain what he barely understood himself. Reaching for Mara, another apology owed, he felt something in him break free. The last of his resistance to the truth. “We need to talk.”

  “No.” Mara stepped away, out of reach. She didn’t want to hear another speech about his affection for Lesley, about his antipathy toward her. Defenses down, she wasn’t sure she could survive another barrage of I want you, go away. Sinking deeper into the cavern’s protective shadows, she murmured, “That’s the third time, Ethan. I can’t do this again. I won’t.” A sob rose, but the barest of sound escaped.

  The wisp of pain echoed, and appalled, Ethan stopped his pursuit. “I’m sorry. Truly.” He snatched up the backpack and slung it onto his shoulder. When he turned, Mara still stood in the gloom, eyes downcast. Knowing he shouldn’t, determined he would, he crossed to her and forced her to meet his gaze. The wounded tumult he read in the shaded depths shamed him.

  And reminded him of the morning he awoke to find Mara gone.

  “We’re even now. I hurt you, and you’ve gotten your revenge. I want you and you belong to someone else. My fault. My mistake.” Mara jerked at her captive chin. “Let me go.”

  “I can’t.” Tipping her mouth up, he kissed her quickly, hungrily. “Give me a few minutes, okay? I owe her an explanation.”

  Before Mara could respond, he raced to the stairs. At the opening to the cavern, Lesley waited, spine stiff and proud. The passageway was empty, and in the distance he could see the glass doors that opened into the gift shop. Shadows moved in the store, signs that the park was preparing to open. An unwitting audience to the maelstrom he was about to release.

  Ethan approached her warily, uncertain of himself and her. If she decided to shove him down the vertical shaft, he wouldn’t blame her. Although no declarations had been made between them, he owed her more than the viewing of an enthusiastic, wild grope with his ex-girlfriend.

  Contrite, he laid a light hand on her arm, prepared for recoil. Instead, she gently lifted his hand from her skin then dropped it as though it were soiled. He half expected her to whip out a lace handkerchief and dab at the spot where he’d placed his soiled hands.

  “Don’t touch me, Ethan. Not just yet.” The request was frostily polite, but a flush of temper crested her cheeks.

  “All right.” He held his hands aloft and stepped away. “May I talk to you?”

  “Now that your mouth is free, I suppose so.”

  “I deserve that.”

  “You deserve a hell of a lot more, damn you. And I deserved better.”

  “You did. You do.” Ethan shoved his hands into his pockets. “I should have told you sooner.”

  She fumed, annoyed that he defused justified agitation with his admission. But she wasn’t satisfied yet. “Told me what? That you’re in love with her?”

  Ethan considered lying. Wanted to lie and wanted it to be the truth. “Yes. That I’m in love with her.”

  Hearing the anguish, the friend in her rose and Lesley muttered, “Why didn’t you?”

  “Because I didn’t know. Not then. And I don’t want to now. It makes no sense. She’s unpredictable and unreliable. She’ll lie and cheat and steal. Before breakfast.” Ethan paced away, embittered and baffled. “You’re incredible, Lesley. Brilliant, gorgeous. Honest. One of my best friends.”

  “Much like a golden retriever,” she retorted mildly. “But Mara is audacious. Bold.”

  “Reckless. Impractical.”

  “Smart.”

  “Sly,” Ethan countered. “With no capacity to follow the law.”

  “With a sense of honor that’s all too rare,” Lesley said softly. “You respect her.”

  “She’s got this screwed-up code, this integrity that needs a translation dictionary. She’ll steal, but won’t litter. Fight, but won’t curse. She’ll stand up for the weakest person, but will run if she might get hurt.”

  “You admire her.” Defeated, she tucked her arm into his and steered him to the gift shop. “I never knew you had a thing for the impish waif type.”

  Ethan exhaled glumly, relieved. “I’d hoped it was like the mumps, get it once and then you’re immune. Mara is a virulent strain of malaria. Once bitten, she stays with you forever.”

  “Lucky man.”

  Chapter 18

  Down in the cavern, Mara paced the uneven floor, waiting for Ethan’s return. Minutes passed and she could hear a smattering of voices filter through the shaft. A quick peek at her watch revealed that the Wonder Cave Amusement Park staff had likely begun to arrive.

  Which begged the question of what she was doing in the belly of a cave, when she’d already gotten what she came for. More, in fact.

  She shoved the key into the leather pouch and cinched it angrily. Once again she’d let herself go and found herself floundering alone. It helped to soothe the heat of temper when she thought of the verbal lashing Ethan was enjoying from Lesley. The pleasure dulled, however, as she thought of her complicity.

  Like the kisses before, she’d been a willing participant. And the first time, she’d been the instigator. Kicking at a pile of loose stone, Mara cringed. Lesley had every reason to despise her too. Though Lesley would have to work hard to outdo the job she was doing on herself.

  In spite of her relaxed moral code, she did have standards. Don’t take from those who couldn’t afford to lose it. Don’t con the helpless. Take credit when it’s due and blame where it’s warranted. And never compromise your code for a man.

  Even if the man in question was the love of your life, she chided herself.

  Screwing her courage to the sticking place, Mara sucked in a badly needed fortifying breath and ambled to the staircase. Ethan wasn’t the only one who owed Lesley an apology. As demeaning as it would be, she had no choice but to be a woman about it and face Lesley’s wrath. Determinedly, she trudged up the steep exit, preparing her mea culpa. If the princess was so inclined, Mara decided she’d even allow the lady a swing without ducking. Or decking her in turn.

  Prepared for anything, her mouth fell agape at the sight of Lesley and Ethan fawning over what appear
ed from a distance to be a crusty old slab of rock. Worse, Ethan seemed to have all of his teeth in place.

  Son of a three-toed lily-livered sloth. How had he talked his way around what Lesley had seen? Around what she could still feel coursing through her in seismic bursts of awareness? Advancing, she stopped at the end of the glass counter. Beneath the petrified rock, other fossils had been tagged and placed on display. Unimpressed by the centuries of scientific history, she asked silkily of Lesley, “Why is he still vertical?”

  “Because he grovels well and he’s buying me this.” She extended a jeweled hand to the calcified rock. “I’ve had my eye on it for months.” Reading the banked distress, hidden by the fierce glitter of anger, Lesley tugged Mara away from the counter.

  “What do you want?” Mara asked frostily, jerking her elbow free.

  Possible answers snaked through Lesley’s mind, including several that would have Mara squirming. But she recognized the look of resignation and the hopeless tone in the throaty voice. The sneak thief was braced for the worse, expected it. A deep, almost imperceptible hurt glittered behind the fierce stare, belying the belligerent set of her shoulders. Feeling generous, she relented. “The same thing you do.”

  Mara squared her shoulders. “What exactly is that?”

  “Let’s not play word games. Ethan told me everything, and I’m okay with it. We’ll be fine.”

  “Fine?”

  “You really did a number on him, Mara. For years no one has been able to get within striking distance. Friendship, sex, sure. But both with the same woman? Ethan wouldn’t permit it. It took me years to get him to tell me what had ruined it for the rest of us.”

  “He told you about me?”

  “Not exactly.” Lesley chuckled lightly. “But sufficient detail to show me that you were my version of Excalibur. Prying the story of your teenage romance out of Ethan was damned near impossible. It was nothing compared to getting you out of his heart.”

  Mara had no retort. Or reaction. Surely, she thought dimly, having your heart ripped clean of your body would remove the possibility of sensation. Though she hadn’t realized it until now, she thought his kiss downstairs had meant something. Had meant everything.

  Refusing to collapse, she nodded once. Feigning humor, she managed tightly, “I’d make him throw in a snow globe or something.” She clutched the leather pouch in one hand and fished the car keys out of her pocket with the other, numbed fingers. “While he finishes his penance, I’m going out to the car.”

  By the time she reached the sleek, green convertible, insentience had worn off, to be replaced by a shaking, driving fury. She jammed the car keys into the lock, ripped the door open. The kiss, the kisses, she fumed, had meant nothing to him. To either of them. Here she was, racked by guilt, and to Ethan and Lesley she was a means to an end, with side benefits for him.

  A light touch landed on her shoulder, and she rounded on Ethan, fist cocked. “Don’t you dare touch me. Never again.”

  “Mara?” Warily, he stepped away, hands raised. “What’s wrong?”

  “Better question is what in the name of Charles Dickens is wrong with you?” Holding Bailey’s key like a talisman, she dangled the pouch between them. “Did you two plan this with Davis? Lure me here, seduce me into helping you find the keys?”

  “Are you crazy?” Ethan searched her eyes, looking for signs of trauma. Maybe she’d hit her head when he left her in the caverns. Once he’d spoken with Lesley, he intended to fetch Mara, but they’d been distracted by the shop owner and her fossil collection. Mara had joined them before he could break away. He’d followed her out to the car to explain, but now he was more concerned about the bloody murder he could read in the bitter amber depths.

  Palms out, he explained slowly, “We’ve had this discussion once already, Mara. Davis is using us both. And Lesley came to help me. She had nothing to do with any of this until I asked for her help. You know this, Mara.”

  “I don’t know anything,” she countered. “I don’t know why you kissed me, and I’m at a freakin’ loss as to why I care. You are a two-timing slug who can’t seem to remember which woman he’s with. Even with the lights on.”

  Because she wasn’t completely wrong, Ethan couldn’t take offense. In the past week he’d taken advantage of Mara and of Lesley, and it chagrined him to acknowledge his cavalier actions. But in the dim of the caverns he’d found clarity. Light. He’d found Mara.

  “I’ve made mistakes since you returned, yes. I’ve apologized to Lesley, and now I’m apologizing to you.”

  “For what? Kissing me or lying to her?”

  “Both.” Ethan eased closer, and Mara retreated. “Lesley and I are over. We’re just friends.”

  Friends? Is that what Lesley meant? Afraid to believe, she remained hidden behind the safety of the door. Sneering, she taunted, “What happened, darling? She refused to take you back?”

  “I didn’t ask her to.” He leaned forward, caging her between the door with its lowered window and the car frame. A breeze drifted past, stirring the black curls that framed a face he’d never been able to forget. “I told her the truth. That I want you.” Pausing, he searched for the right way to tell her the rest. That he loved her.

  Mara went still, eyes narrowed. Want. So pallid a description for the storm that raged between them each time they touched. Nausea rose, a sickly surge. A week ago having Ethan want her again would have been more than she dared imagine. Was it too little for her to accept?

  It was what she dreamed of on empty nights, sneaking from town to town. Someone to want her, to need her. For Ethan to forgive her and hold her close. Some days she had been willing to beg. But now she wanted more. Needed more. Would have more. Tone dry, she replied quizzically, “For how long? Until we find the gold?”

  Disconcerted by her lackadaisical air, he replied, “Is that an offer?”

  “Depends.” Mara relaxed against the car, the metal warm from the risen sun. Over Ethan’s shoulder she could see Lesley hovering near the entryway. “Where does she fit in?”

  Ethan didn’t ask whom. He tossed back, “We’ve reached an understanding. She’ll help us decipher the remaining clues on the way to the San Marcos airport. Lesley’s taking a sabbatical for a while.”

  “Because of this?” She glanced at the key that hung from her fingers. “Is it safe?”

  “I didn’t tell Conroy she was coming, and Linda doesn’t think she was followed. Her trip is merely a precaution.” Ethan reached out to grip her shoulders, careful not to hurt. But it was imperative that she hear him. That he give her fair warning. “Lesley gets on that plane, and it’s just you and me, Mara. Us. No one else between us—not your father or your grandfather or our past. Are you ready to deal with that? With us?”

  Mara heard the words and the passion raging beneath. She lifted her hands to where his fingers dug into her skin and pried them away. “I’ve been running for twelve years, Ethan. From everyone and everything. And I’m tired.” Unconsciously, she threaded their hands, palm to palm. “I ran because I was afraid for you. Afraid of what being with me could do to you.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Flexing her hand, she measured the steel beneath his skin, the firm, solid strength of him. Ethan was strong. Resilient. So was she. Strong enough to stay. To fight. To win. She lifted his hand, brought it to her mouth. Pressing a kiss to the work-roughened skin, she swore an oath. “I’m not going anywhere, Ethan. This time, you’re stuck with me.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  “Destroyed?” Davis Conroy softly repeated the news delivered by Rabbe, who slowly shifted away from the glossy metallic desk with its polished surface. The explosion he expected would be more terrifying than the one that had ravaged the warehouse.

  Coming to the headquarters in Austin hadn’t been his choice. He’d left Guffin behind in Kiev to dig up what he could on the cause of the fire. Though left was a generous term. They’d flipped a coin and arm-wrestled for the pri
vilege of hanging back rather than facing their employer’s ire. Guffin, the bastard, managed to cheat him out of both tries.

  “We were watching the place like you said to, Mr. Conroy. Twenty-four-hour surveillance.” Hearing the nervous tremor in his words, he braced himself. “’Round ten-thirty or so we heard a series of pops. Loud ones, like big firecrackers. We rushed the building, but by the time we made the door, flames were everywhere.” He and Seth decided to omit the actual details. Like the fact that they’d initially fled the area, hightailing it toward Louisiana. Then Guffin reminded him of the reach Davis Conroy had. Convinced they could salvage the debacle if they brought him good information, they returned to Kiev, stashed the SUV in an alley, and crept back on foot to watch the drama.

  Sirens had wailed on the street, too late to save the warehouse. Firefighters tarnished with blackened ash had stormed the facility, and when Rabbe—playing the innocent bystander—asked after the condition of the building, one grim-faced man explained it to him.

  “Somehow, the fire started in the lab where Dr. Stuart was working. Seems his chemicals got mixed together and caught fire,” Rabbe now repeated dutifully to Conroy. “One of the chemicals acted as an accelerant and the flames made their way up to the loft level.”

  “Stuart and Ms. Reed are dead?” Again the question was subdued, almost meditative.

  “Yes, sir. I think so.” As were his chances of making half a million dollars. “The fireman said no one could have survived.”

  “Did they carry anyone out? Any bodies?”

  Rabbe nodded. “Two bags. Man said the heat was so intense, it must have incinerated the bodies.”

  Conroy perked up at the comment. “Incinerated? Why would he mention that?”

  Shrugging, Rabbe explained, “Guy said the skeletons barely had flesh on them. Had to figure the heat and the chemicals burned it off.”