RELENTLESS: An Option Zero Novel

by Christy Reece

  “What?”

  “I was about to ask if you wanted the rest of mine.”

  She laughed, and oh, did it feel good. This man, this wonderful, beautiful, giving man could make her laugh when she’d thought she never would again.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything this good.”

  “Aw, that’s because you haven’t seen what I brought for dessert.”

  His stretched his arm out and snagged the bag from the counter. Placing it in front of her, he said softly, “Enjoy.”

  Expecting some sort of spectacular sight, she peered inside the bag at the ugliest cookie she had ever seen. Of all the things she’d thought it could be, a homely cookie hadn’t been it.

  “What is it?”

  “Taste it.”

  Curious at the mischievous glint in his eyes, she pulled the cookie out and took a small nibble. Myriad tastes, textures, and flavors exploded in her mouth. Humming her approval, she took a bigger bite and then another.

  “Oh my gosh,” she said with her mouth still full, “what in the world is this?”

  “The bakery calls it their miracle cookie.”

  Miracle was the perfect name for it. She tasted chocolate, coconut, possibly cherry or raspberry, cinnamon, and a couple of other spices she couldn’t identify. Combined, they created the most delectable taste she’d ever experienced.

  She looked at the empty bag. “Where’s your cookie?”

  “I just brought one.”

  “You didn’t want one?”

  “I wanted you to have a miracle.” He gave her a sweet, sexy smile. “I already found mine.”

  The lump in her throat grew without warning. She swallowed hard and said huskily, “You’ve been my miracle for twelve years.”

  He took her hand and kissed it softly. “I’ve missed you.”

  She knew he wasn’t talking about being away from her for twelve years, but her absence over the last few days.

  “I’m sorry. I—”

  “No. You have nothing to apologize for. What you’re dealing with is unimaginable. I just want to help in any way I can.”

  “You are helping. I just—” She paused for a moment. “Have you ever had something hurt you so much that you couldn’t even articulate how bad the pain was?”

  “Yeah.” The look he gave her told her what that pain had been. The day they’d taken her out of that cell, and he’d believed she’d been tortured because of him. Yes, he definitely understood her pain.

  Standing, he held out his hand. “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable.”

  He took her to the family room with its deep sofas and retro game machines. Flipping a switch, he turned on the gas logs of the fire, and then they settled onto a sofa.

  She put her head on his shoulder and for the first time in days, felt her body relax.

  “Ready to talk about it?”

  “Not yet,” she said. “Soon. Just not yet.”

  Instead of pressing the issue, he squeezed her gently and said, “Okay.”

  He settled them deeper into the sofa. “My dad,” he began quietly, “was the greatest storyteller I’ve ever known. This was one of the first stories he told me.”

  Aubrey listened intently. His dad had passed away when Liam was a young teen and from the few stories he’d shared about him, Aubrey knew he had been his hero.

  “A long time ago, there was this family of angry squirrels.”

  “I didn’t know squirrels could get angry.”

  “Well, most of them are pacifists. You know, gathering nuts, climbing trees, doing squirrely things and living their lives like proper squirrels should. But there are a few, a very few, angry squirrels. And this family. They were the angriest of them all.”

  Aubrey relished the timbre of his voice, the thud of his heart, the warmth of his body against hers, and felt perfect peace.

  Liam figured she fell asleep around the time the youngest of the angry squirrels met the youngest of the happy squirrel family.

  He remembered his dad’s story like he’d heard it yesterday. He’d realized years later that the tale was his father and mother’s story. His dad’s family had been the angry family, bitter and mean. He’d said he figured he would have ended up like the rest of them if he hadn’t met Mary Sue Murphy, who had changed his life.

  Just as Aubrey had changed his. The day he’d met her, his life had become infinitely more meaningful. And even though it had taken twelve years to find her again, everything in his life had led him to her.

  Their problems were far from over. This organization or whatever the hell it was wanted to kill her or stop her from making the documentary. He would fight to his death to keep her alive. And if something happened and he wasn’t around, the OZ team would always protect her. It was what families did.

  Aubrey thought she’d lost hers, but she had gained a stronger, more powerful one that would do whatever was necessary to keep her safe.

  Holding her close, Liam closed his eyes with the comforting knowledge that no matter who or what came after them, she would be safe.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  She woke to the most delicious sensation. Liam’s mouth was moving softly on her neck, nibbling at hidden erogenous zones she’d had no idea existed.

  Moaning softly, she languidly wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer. She existed in a sensual twilight state for several more moments, unaware of anything but Liam’s warm, hard body lying next to her. She didn’t think she’d ever been this relaxed or content. Nothing was real except for this moment in his arms.

  Cool air skimmed her body, and she realized that her blouse was halfway off her shoulders. She blinked her heavy lids, trying to discern where she was.

  Finally opening her eyes, she realized she was in his bedroom, on his bed.

  “How did I get here?” she murmured.

  “I brought you here a while ago. You’ve been asleep for hours.”

  Sleeping had been almost as difficult as eating the last few days. And now, because of Liam, she had eaten a nutritious meal and had taken the longest nap of her life.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  “Better. Much better. Thank you.”

  He raised his head and smiled down at her. “My pleasure.”

  Cupping his jaw, she caressed it softly, relishing the sting of beard stubble against her palm. “What did I do to deserve you?”

  “And I was just thinking the same thing.”

  “Seriously. You’re like a dream come to life.”

  “Ask my sisters when you meet them. They’ll tell you I’m more of a nightmare.”

  “I’ll bet they adore you.”

  “They do now, I guess. They didn’t when we were living in the same house.”

  “Were you overprotective?”

  “After my dad was gone, I decided it was my responsibility to be the man of the house and interrogate every guy my sisters brought home.”

  “Aren’t you younger than two of them?”

  “Yeah.” He grinned as he added, “I learned early to never let age override arrogance.”

  Knowing what she would have done in the same situation, she winced. “How bad was it?”

  “Let’s just say when three sisters gang up on you, no matter how big or arrogant you try to be, they can bloody your nose pretty good.”

  “Did you learn your lesson?”

  “I tried to tone it down a bit. But I still checked the guys out.” He shrugged. “They’re my sisters.”

  “And you’re a good guy.”

  “Sometimes.” He lowered his mouth over hers. “Sometimes not.”

  With a groan, she gave herself up to the incredible taste and texture of his kiss. How many times had she dreamed of this? Fantasized about how he would taste, how he would feel? The fantasy had nothing on reality.

  She wanted to feel his body against hers, she wanted him inside her, loving her. She wanted to love him the way she’d always dreamed.

  He
raised his head. “I need to go lock up. Be back in a few minutes.”

  The second he disappeared through the door, she was out of bed and stripping off her clothes as she headed to the bathroom. She hadn’t showered today, hadn’t washed her hair in days. Could she do all of that and be back in bed before he returned? She didn’t know, but she was going to try.

  She quickly brushed her teeth and then jumped into the shower. Hot water sluiced down her body as she reached for the shampoo bottle. A noise behind her had her turning. Liam stood in the doorway of the shower. Completely nude, his eyes gleaming with heat, and a sexy smile on his face, he said, “Mind if I join you?”

  Breathless, her heartbeat double-timing, she held out her hand in invitation. He was beautiful. With broad shoulders, a slight sprinkling of dark hair on his chest, hard abs, and long muscular legs, Liam Stryker exuded male perfection.

  Aubrey was suddenly self-conscious. She was far from perfect. She rarely thought about her scars. They had been part of her for so long, and she had survived the ordeal. But now, with Liam, she wanted to be beautiful for him, to be as perfect to him as he was to her.

  As if unaware of her hesitancy, Liam walked purposely toward her. Cupping her face, he set his mouth on hers and gently, thoroughly devoured her lips. Moaning her approval, Aubrey gave him everything in that kiss—her love, desire, need, and devotion.

  He lifted his mouth from hers and spoke softly, emphatically, “You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful creature in the universe.”

  Tears filled her eyes at the complete adoration in his expression. He believed that—he really believed that. Fear and anxiety evaporated into wisps of nothingness. This was the man she had loved for twelve years. Liam Stryker, her Lion, was her soul mate. They had become one long before this intimacy they were about to experience. He was hers, she was his.

  Fully confident in her beauty and his love, she forgot everything but how very much she adored this man. And how long she had been waiting for this moment.

  Liam gently turned Aubrey around. “I’ll take care of your hair.” He grabbed her shampoo and squirted a quarter-sized amount of liquid onto his palm. Inhaling deeply, he smiled at the scent. The mystery of why her hair always smelled like peaches was solved. Lathering the mass of thick, golden strands in his hands, he rubbed her scalp, careful of the sore spot on the side of her head from the car crash. When she moaned her delight and leaned against him, he figured he was doing it right.

  When he finished, he pulled them both under the pulsing water. Rinsing her hair thoroughly, he then added a dab of conditioner. She turned and looked up at him in wonder. “You’re very good at that.”

  He grinned down at her. “I worked in my mom’s salon after school until I joined the Navy. Shampooing and floor sweeping were my specialties.”

  “I would imagine you were very popular with her clientele.”

  “Let’s just say I probably made more money there in tips than I did my first couple years in the Navy.”

  He turned the water off and opened the shower door. Stepping out, he snagged a towel from the warming bar and held it out for her. Yeah, he knew she was hesitant. Not only was this new to her, the uncertainty in her expression was easy to read. She thought the scars would bother him. They did, but not in the way she feared. He wished once again that he’d been the one to find the man who’d done this to her and do the very same thing to him. But in no way did her scars do anything but make him love her all the more.

  Enveloping her within the warmth of the towel, he thoroughly dried her, and then brought her close, murmuring against her ear, “I love you, Katarina Aubrey Starr.”

  With that, he picked her up, towel and all, and carried her to the bedroom. Laying her on the bed, he took a few seconds to drink her in. She was lovely, curvy, and luscious.

  She held out her arms to him, and he joined her on the bed. Kissing and caressing up and down her body, he paid particular attention to her scars. He refused to pretend they didn’t exist. There were eight of them—one on each extremity, two on her abdomen, one on her shoulder, and the last one, possibly the deepest one, was on her left breast.

  After he’d kissed each one, he returned to her breast and paid special attention to the scar.

  “I know the scars are ugly. I thought about getting plastic surgery, but going back under the knife wasn’t something I wanted.”

  “You see scars, I see badges of courage. What you endured, what you survived….you’re one of the strongest, most courageous people I’ve ever known. Do not, for one moment, think otherwise.”

  Tears glistened in her eyes. “I love you, Liam. With everything that I am, everything that we are together, I love you.”

  Lowering his mouth to hers again, he delighted in every sigh, every gasp. He wanted to take away her nightmares, erase all memories of every horror she had endured. When they were both at the shattering peak, Liam rose above her and held still for a moment. He watched her face, looking for any signs of fear or hesitancy. What he saw made his heart turn over. Love, like he’d never known, shone in her eyes.

  “You’re my everything,” he whispered, and with that, Liam slid inside her, making her his own in the most elemental way possible.

  She had been his from the beginning. She would be his until his last breath. Together, they were one.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  New Port Beach, California

  Rudolph Ulrich’s Estate

  Bringing a killer inside one of his homes wasn’t something Rudolph took lightly. However, things were getting dire and he needed the privacy. No one here would talk, as his servants were eternally loyal. Tying him to any murder would never happen. Conducting the meeting here would ensure complete privacy and anonymity. That didn’t negate the fact that the man before him had killed dozens of people. He had to tread carefully, but he also wanted to get his point across.

  Rudolph put as much anger as he dared into his accusation. “I don’t have to tell you how disappointing the outcome of your last job was.”

  “Disappointing?” The killer raised an arrogant brow. “I made the kill. That’s what you hired me to do.”

  “You were hired to take both of them out. You failed.”

  “Hey, it’s not my fault Starr survived the wreck. The other one died. It was a good, clean kill.”

  “How is it a good kill if your target is still alive?”

  A dangerous light entered the man’s eyes, and Rudolph swallowed hard. Perhaps he was being a little unfair. The other man was right. One of them had been killed.

  “I still don’t understand why you couldn’t take out Syd Green. My solution worked perfectly.”

  “You know that’s not my type of kill. It had no creativity, no panache.” He shrugged and added, “Poison is so blasé.”

  Hard to believe this man could say those words with a straight face, but he knew the guy actually believed them. He had known from the beginning that retaining the acclaimed killer Promethean might cause problems. He was proficient in his kills, and that was what was needed. Unfortunately, he liked to be creative. When Ferante had told him the snakes in Lawrence Medford’s house had been Promethean’s idea, Rudolph had been intrigued. It had definitely worked out well. No one had suspected murder.

  He’d contacted Promethean with a couple of job offers. The undetectable bomb on Ferante’s yacht had been successful. Authorities had already closed the case, blaming faulty wiring that had likely started a fire that had reached the fuel tank.

  If he had learned anything in his life, it was to clean up any mess he made. As he had made Ferante, Rudolph had taken care of him. Problem solved.

  Hiring the team to take out the men Ferante had hired to kidnap the child in Iowa had been handled with one easy phone call. Ferante and his twisted perversions were now merely a bad memory.

  But there had still been the residuals. When he’d told Promethean he wanted Syd Green dead, too, and offered the way, one would’ve thought he’d been aske
d to walk barefoot through glass. The man had looked horrified and had refused point blank.

  If ever there was a diva in the assassin world, it was this man.

  Syd Green had had to go for many reasons. He had defied orders on numerous occasions, and everyone was tired of his defiance. Taking out his daughter Becca had been Green’s final punishment before his death.

  Not that it had been difficult to find another killer to do away with Green. Rudolph had plenty of people from which to choose. But still, it had been one more thing about the whole ordeal that he’d wanted over quick and fast. And it had worked perfectly. He’d even had the same man deliver the fake request for Green’s immediate cremation. He would definitely put the other killer on top of the list for next time. There had been no dramatics, no excuses. He’d done the job, received payment, and that was that.

  There was one last piece of business to handle. Aubrey Starr had to go—there was no choice in the matter. The infuriating filmmaker was one last loose end and then the whole debacle could at last be put to rest. The hit-and-run had been the perfect solution, taking out both Green and Starr. Yet, Starr still lived.

  “I still need you to take care of the filmmaker.”

  “She’s in hiding.”

  “I’ll lure her out. You just need to make sure you succeed this time.”

  The killer glared at him and while Rudolph tried to maintain a hard expression, he was sure fear showed in his eyes. Getting his hands dirty this way turned his stomach. He was in the highest tier, much higher than Green or even Ferante. He should not have to be involved in this kind of low-level planning.

  They were punishing him because of Ferante. That much was obvious. And the level of their punishment would only increase if he didn’t get this right. For the first time in his long career, he realized how expendable he really was. He’d come too far, done too much, to allow this bump in the road to be his end.

  “I’ll make the arrangements to bring her back to LA, and I’ll let you know where and when. How you get it done is your problem.”