Rescue Me: A Novel

by Christy Reece

  Without moving a muscle or even looking directly at her, she sensed his tension. He knew she was lying and if there was one thing her boss hated, it was lies. Though they both did their fair share of lying when appropriate, doing it to each other was taboo.

  Settling deeper into the comfortable chair, she blew out a small sigh. “Fine. I had a few disturbing dreams. You know I always do this time of year. They'll be gone in a few days and everything will be back to normal.”

  “Not nightmares?”

  “You know I don't have nightmares.” Dreams happened during sleep; nightmares occurred when a person was wide-awake, so they were able to fully appreciate the experience.

  He granted her a small reprieve by giving a nod of acknowledgment and not pursuing the discussion. Why should he when Noah knew better than anyone what those dreams were about and what triggered them?

  “You ready for your lunch with Georges tomorrow?” Noah asked.

  Eden watched with curious eyes as he fiddled with a pen on his desk. For some reason, she got the idea he was nervous. Ridiculous. Noah wasn't any more human than she was when it came to those kinds of emotions.

  “More than ready. I'm just hoping he doesn't blow me off again. I just knew I was going to get an invitation from him last week, and then his father called him in for a family meeting. Hopefully the meeting included big brother Marc. If the bastard's concentrating on family business, at least he's not raping a child somewhere.”

  Noah's mouth flattened in a grim line. “It's been over a month since Christina was kidnapped.”

  “Yes, and she would already be at home, safe and sound, getting the help she needs if her father hadn't tried to handle this on his own. Thank heaven her mother came to us.”

  Pushing his chair back, Noah stood and stretched his big body. There was no telling how long he'd been at his desk.

  With ten operatives under his wing, not to mention all the other branches, it was a wonder he got away from his desk at all. Today, for some reason, he seemed more tense than usual.

  “I'll get her back, Noah. From what her mother told me, Christina's a fighter. She'll do what she has to do to survive until I can get to her. She won't be the innocent child she once was, but she'll be alive and she'll learn how to function.”

  As her friend and mentor walked around his office, stretching out stiff muscles, Eden couldn't help but admire him. Though she felt no attraction, she was still woman enough to appreciate exquisite craftsmanship. And Noah McCall was a superb specimen.

  Standing well over six feet tall, shoulders NFL-broad, with slender hips that might be the envy of many a woman, and long, muscular legs that could be considered lethal weapons. She should know. How many times had he wrapped them around her and tried to squeeze the life out of her in a training exercise? There was little about Noah that wasn't lethal. And all those solid steel muscles were covered in a swarthy darkness. In another lifetime, Noah would have been a pirate … ruthless, invincible, and deadly. Not really different than he was today.

  “What time's your meeting with Georges?”

  “One o'clock. I'm hoping to at least get him to talk about some locations we can check out. He's been frustratingly closed-mouth, but if I can get him to boast about his family's wealth, perhaps he'll give us something we can use. What I really want is an invitation … something I can sink my teeth into.”

  A small smile lifted Noah's lips again. “Just don't bite off more than you can chew.”

  Eden turned up her nose at the thought of having to put her mouth anywhere on Georges's body. “Trust me, I'd spit him out before I became infected.”

  She stood and bent her head back and forth, wincing at the small pop from her stiff neck. Her poor night's sleep was beginning to make her feel itchy and out of sorts. “If you've got no more words of wisdom, I think I'll head back home and regroup before my meeting tomorrow. I don't mind looking a little peaked, since Georges can be so protective, but neither do I want to look like a zombie.”

  “Actually, I have a couple of new cases to discuss with you, but I need to do a little more research before bringing you in.”

  Eden nodded, trusting that when the time was right, Noah would brief her. She'd trusted the man with her life, so she rarely second-guessed him on his decisions. She had more than enough to occupy her until her next assignment.

  Not until Eden blew a kiss and walked out the door did Noah allow the tension in his body to relax. He hadn't been wrong in his assessment. She did look rough and worn-out … or at least as rough as Eden could look. With beauty like that, even exhaustion looked good on her. She was right, Georges would eat up that kind of fragility.

  Fragile. Exactly what she didn't need to be. Extracting Christina Clement would take her full concentration. She could afford no weakness. Unfortunately, this time of year always brought any remaining weakness in Eden to light. The anniversary of her worst nightmare was on the horizon and with it came the requisite torturous dreams.

  And if what he believed he'd set into place weeks ago was about to happen, then those dreams would become even more real.

  Returning to his desk, Noah clicked a couple of keys on the keyboard. As the familiar image appeared on the monitor, he stared hard at the strong, masculine features of the man who could very well destroy one of the bravest women he'd ever known. And if that happened, it would be Noah's fault. But he hadn't seen any other way.

  Eden was twenty-eight years old now. Seven years ago she'd gone through one of the most horrific events any person, woman or man, could face. She'd triumphed and become more than she ever thought she could be. She'd even surprised him and he was hard to surprise. But the decision he'd made all those years ago was beginning to nag at him. Noah was well aware of his tendency to play God with people's lives. He rarely regretted it because he was really quite good at it.

  On her last birthday … or the date they always acknowledged as her birthday, which was her first day as an LCR operative … he realized that unless things changed, Eden would remain with LCR for de cades. Which wouldn't be bad for LCR. She was one of the best he'd ever had. But it also meant, at some point, she would either get herself killed or burn out. He wanted neither of them for her.

  She had no friends other than him, no social life. The few times he'd urged her to take time off, she'd scoffed and refused. Once, after being forced to take out two vile, evil creatures who'd stolen a child from a playground, he insisted she take a small vacation. She reluctantly agreed, but then returned the very next day, insisting she just couldn't do it.

  The man about to come back into her life would either give her absolution and peace or harden her even more. Noah was willing to take the risk … he had to take the risk. This man had been looking for Eden for seven years and Noah had personally seen to it he wouldn't find her. That decision should never have been his. Eden deserved the chance to put her past to rest.

  He only hoped it wasn't too late.

  Pushing aside her half-eaten meal, Eden stretched a slender hand across the elegant white tablecloth and touched the manicured, masculine hand. “It's so wonderful to see you again.”

  Georges Larue brought her hand to his mouth. “My darling Claire, how I've missed you. Please tell me the truth… How are you, really?”

  Her fingertips caressed Georges's too-soft skin as she pulled away. Settling back into her chair, she flipped her hair over her shoulder. Triumph hit her as his hot gaze followed the feminine movement, desire darkening his eyes.

  “Last week was difficult, but we survived. Jacques seemed to be in such pain, but the doctors assured me his condition hasn't changed. Of course, my Jacques is so strong, so courageous, he would never tell me if he was truly hurting.” Tears welled in her eyes. Just a small amount to make them glisten, appear more luminous.

  “Oh my sweet, I wish I could have been here for you.”

  Her mouth formed into a brave smile, the bottom lip quivering just a bit. “It is no matter. I knew you were busy and t
hings are better this week. He seems to be resting more comfortably.”

  “I'm so glad for you. I worried all week.” His light blue eyes gleamed with a mixture of affection, adoration, and lust.

  A wicked, teasing gleam entered her expression as her mouth puckered into a moue to draw attention to full, luscious lips. “Now tell me, what was so important to drag my Georges away from me last week.”

  His broad shoulders lifted in a careless shrug. “Business … boring business.”

  “But Georges, it had to be more than just business. Please say it was… I couldn't bear it if you left me in such need when only business called you away.”

  “Ah darling, business for me is so often a family obligation. One I can't always escape.”

  She shook her head, all sympathy. “My poor Georges. Your father is such a slave driver.”

  “That he is.”

  “Would mademoiselle care for more wine?”

  Eden tore her attention from Georges's adoring face to glance at the attentive waiter. Dammit, she didn't need a distraction right now. “No, thank you.”

  “Nonsense, darling, have another glass.”

  “I can't. You know I have to return to Jacques soon.”

  “Of course, my sweet. What was I thinking?” Georges tossed an arrogant glance at the waiter. “Our check, if you please.”

  Eden forced herself not to slump in her chair. She wasn't ready to end their meeting, having learned almost nothing, other than that he'd had to take care of urgent family business.

  “Come back to my hotel room with me, chérie, and I'll make that little frown disappear forever.”

  She struggled not to shudder. His kiss on her hand was almost more than she could bear. Taking it any further would be the ultimate in revulsion, though if it would get her the information she needed, Eden would allow that and more to accomplish her goal, no matter her distaste. Not that Georges wasn't attractive. Most women would look at him and see only his model good looks. Wavy blond hair, sky-blue eyes, high cheekbones, and square jawline. At six feet of sleek slenderness, he was probably many women's and some men's idea of a wet dream. To Eden, who knew way too much about what he and his family dealt in, he was the slime of the earth.

  “You know I cannot betray Jacques in this way.”

  Georges nodded sadly and blew out a long sigh.

  It never failed to amuse her that evil people actually had ethics. While the entire Larue clan had murdered, raped, kidnapped, stolen millions of dollars, and God only knew what else over the years, they had a surprising moral code when it came to certain things.

  His father, Alfred, was known to be totally devoted to his wife of forty years. Georges had somehow inherited that small amount of honor. As much as he desired Claire, he respected her refusal to cheat on an invalid husband. Faithfulness in a spouse was something he greatly admired. Before arranging her chance meeting with Georges, she'd studied the family extensively. Georges's profile had yielded this valuable tidbit. And Eden used it with skillful glee.

  Though his brother, Marc, was the real person she wanted to reach, he had been impossible to attract. Unfortunately only young girls, ten to fifteen years of age, appealed to the scum-sucking Marc. She'd passed looking like a fifteen-year-old years ago. The best she'd been able to do was make contact with his brother. Hopefully … soon … she would get an invitation to meet more of the family. Specifically, his pedophile brother.

  “So, your demanding father needed you. This problem was solved to his satisfaction?”

  “It involved my niece. She is turning eighteen in a few weeks and insisting to live on her own. She no longer listens to Marc, her father. My family thought I could talk sense into her.”

  Eden refused to consider why Marc's daughter no longer listened to her father. Marc Larue had five children, three of them girls. He'd probably molested them all. Though it sickened her, that was not her mission. However, if something happened to Marc during the course of her mission, something fatal perhaps, it would be no loss to anyone.

  “Eighteen. What a wonderful age. Were you able to help her?”

  For the first time ever, she saw a flicker of what looked like shame in his eyes. So he knew what his brother was, might not condone it, but hadn't bothered to stop it, either. Most likely his entire family knew about Marc's twisted obsession. How could they allow his sickness to go unchecked?

  “I agreed to discuss it again with my brother if she would remain with the family six more months.” His expression lightened as he chuckled. “Of course, the little minx coaxed a larger birthday party than what we'd planned. Now it's going to be a three-day weekend at my brother's vacation home.”

  Ears perking up, Eden allowed no excitement or anticipation to show, but did allow a small tinkling laugh to escape. “Well, you only turn eighteen once. How wonderful to have such an amazing party.” She said the last part somewhat wistfully. When his eyes darkened further, she worried she'd overplayed her hand.

  “Why don't you come with me, as my guest?”

  Though relieved at his words, she drew away and sighed, regret shadowing her expression. “Oh, how I would love to, but I can't leave Jacques for that amount of time.”

  “But didn't you tell me last week, before I left, that he encouraged you to take a trip, relieve some of the pressure of caring for him?”

  Satisfaction made her toes tingle. So he had remembered. She'd let that little comment drop last week, in hopes he'd take the hint and offer to take her to one of his family's many houses. Though her chances of finding any information were slim, it would have given her an opportunity to snoop. If anything was to be found there, she would find it. But this was so much better. To be in the midst of the entire Larue clan, at Marc's home. She kept her excitement buried and admitted haltingly, “Yes … he did … but …”

  “But nothing, my darling. It will give you a much-needed rest and me the opportunity to be with you. You'll also get to meet my family, and I know you will love them as I do.”

  Since loving pedophiles and murderers was not her cup of tea, she doubted it. “Oh Georges, that does sound wonderful.” She allowed her gaze to drop slightly as if she were torn. Then, seeming to come to a difficult decision, she lifted her head and said, “I'll do it.”

  “Excellent, darling, I'll—”

  “Devon? My God, is it you?”

  The gravel-rich masculinity of that voice could never be forgotten. Years ago, it filled her innocent dreams with delight. Later, it filled her nightmares. Now, today, her in-sides shredded to pieces.

  Everything within her froze. Time stopped. Breath stopped. Her heart stopped. Barely a second later, life resumed. She lifted a cool gaze to the man standing in front of her. “Je crois que vous vous trompez.” (I'm afraid you are mistaken.)

  four

  Jordan stared down at the beautiful woman shooting sparks of irritation at him from vibrant green eyes. She looked nothing like Devon. How ridiculous to have thought otherwise. This woman, though stunning, could never have the pure innocent loveliness of Devon.

  With long, reddish-blond hair, eyes like clear green glass, aristocratic nose, and softly pointed chin, this exquisite creature screamed maturity, aloofness, and experience. Nothing like the lovely woman/child Jordan had known all those years ago.

  “Excusez-moi. Je me trompe. Pardonnez-moi s'il vous plaît.” (Excuse me, I am mistaken. Your pardon.) Backing away, Jordan returned to his table.

  He noticed the woman never missed a beat as she resumed an animated conversation with her companion, her lovely shoulders twitching as she laughed. Her shoulders … that's what had drawn his attention. Rather her right shoulder. Bare and gloriously creamy looking, it sported a small, vivid tattoo—a hummingbird. The same kind of tattoo Devon had, and it was on her right shoulder, as Devon's had been.

  But this woman wasn't Devon. Had nothing in common with her other than the tattoo.

  Jordan stared morosely at the meal he'd been enjoying. He hadn't made
a mistake like that in years. When Devon first disappeared, he'd seen her everywhere. On every street corner, in every restaurant, in every bar. It became an obsession.

  When he realized the police were never going to find her, he took a leave of absence from his job. With his experience and contacts, finding one young woman should have been a cakewalk. Six months later, after exhausting every lead, he'd come to the same conclusion as the police. Devon Winters could not be found.

  Whether something nefarious had happened to her or she'd somehow evaded the hundreds of people searching, he didn't know. Jordan finally concluded she either didn't want to be found or she was dead. The first scenario angered him and the second one filled him with anguished guilt.

  He remembered clearly the things he'd said to her, the agony on her face. His fury immense, the words that spewed from his mouth surprised even him. Known for his control, few things ever drew a sharp word from him, much less the pure rage that erupted that day.

  He shook his head, refusing to go down that path again. If allowed to go back in time and change one event in his life, that would be the one he'd change. But he couldn't. He might never know what happened to Devon, and he lived with the knowledge that what ever had happened, it was his fault.

  He could blame Alise. God knew Devon's mother had been one of the worst mothers in the history of motherhood. The lies she'd spouted had fanned his fury, leading him to treat Devon with unparalleled cruelty.

  No one was innocent. Even Devon. She'd set out to deceive him. Her immaturity and tender heart led her to believe she was in love with him. A small part of him still felt the anger. He'd been deceiving people for years. Hell, he lived in Washington, D.C., where lies were told with every breath. The fact that an inexperienced twenty-one-year-old schoolgirl had seduced him not only infuriated him but also shamed him.

  How had he not seen through her disguise? Jordan knew the answer, though he would have liked to deny it. He hadn't seen through Devon's disguise because he hadn't wanted to see anything other than a beautiful, sensuous woman. The alcohol he'd consumed, along with his exhaustion, had blurred his judgment and weakened his instincts. Even the somewhat startled looks she gave him when he said something explicitly sexual hadn't dented his radar. He'd been intent on getting her into bed, not discovering her secrets.