Last Chance

by Christy Reece

  “Twenty-six,” she said.

  “How long have you been in the business?”

  She wrinkled her brow in a deliberate frown of confusion. “What business is that?”

  A slight flare of temper in his eyes told her he hadn’t liked her answer. Tough. There were only certain things she could tell him.

  “The rescuing business.”

  “I’m not in the rescuing business. Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “You rescued me, for one. Helped the young woman you mentioned. You obviously know the head of Last Chance Rescue, since barely an hour after I leave Noah McCall’s office, asking for his help in finding you, you appear before me.”

  “I know many people. That doesn’t mean I’m in their line of business. I’m acquainted with Mr. McCall and I’ve assisted his organization on a few occasions. However, I’m not in the rescue business and am not employed by LCR.”

  There. She’d told him a version of the truth.

  He looked at her for the longest time without speaking. McKenna once again felt those nerves she really didn’t know she still had. This man made her feel way too much. Emotions and feelings she hadn’t been aware of in years, if ever, were surfacing. Maybe coming here had been a bigger mistake than she’d thought.

  “No. Don’t leave. I won’t ask anything more personal. I promise.”

  Shit. That was scary. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t changed her expression, yet somehow he’d guessed. His ability to read her thoughts put her on even higher alert.

  The promise not to ask anything more personal was also a surprise. Not the words themselves, but his attitude. He seemed nervous, almost vulnerable. Her stupid, irresponsible, unwise heart thumped harder in her chest. Stiffening her body, she forced herself to ignore the urge to go to him and soothe him. Just how dangerous would that be?

  “I don’t mind questions…I just don’t like certain questions.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll ask one more and then you can question me.”

  “All right.” She tensed. Would it be the one to make her get up and leave this insanity?

  “What’s your name?”

  Laughter burst from her before she could control it. After all that had happened, she realized, that was one thing she hadn’t told him. She could give him one of the names she had on her passports, or even make up a new one. She could, but she wouldn’t. Having him say her name in his beautiful, crisp British accent was an indulgence, but one she desperately wanted.

  “McKenna.”

  “McKenna.” He said it like a caress, and warmth flooded her again. “It’s a beautiful name. I’m assuming you’re not going to give me a last name?”

  When she just looked at him without answering, he nodded his agreement. “Okay. Your turn. Ask away.”

  She stared at him for several seconds more. If this were the last chance she’d ever have to get to know a man who had fascinated her from the moment she’d heard of him, then she would take advantage of his openness as much as possible.

  “You’re British, but you seem to have some very American mannerisms and language.”

  He nodded. “Two of my stepmothers were from the States. They were with me during my most impressionable years.”

  “Two stepmothers?”

  “All totaled, six.”

  “Wow.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Do you have siblings?”

  “No. Closest I came were step-pets.”

  “And your parents?”

  “My father died a few years back. My mother died only a few weeks after I was born.”

  “So your father was always trying to replace her?”

  “Doubtful. The photos of her look nothing like the exceedingly attractive and, shall we say, voluptuous women my father married.”

  “Oh.”

  He smiled then, and McKenna caught her breath before she could sigh. His smile was like sunshine. Not only was it beautiful, it created a warmth that permeated her entire body. Only a deeper, more intense warmth went to certain areas and heated them even more. Something fluttered deep inside her. Oh, my.

  “Are you okay?”

  She shook herself, suddenly becoming aware not only of his concerned gaze but that she was almost lying on the couch. Maybe she was hungry. Her croissant and coffee had been hours ago.

  “I’m hungry. Can we have lunch?”

  He laughed, but McKenna cringed. Blurting out her thoughts was a side effect of being alone too much. Social skills eroded quickly.

  He stood and walked over to a table that held a phone. “What would you like to eat? Any preferences or things you dislike?”

  “Anything is fine.”

  Lucas picked up the phone and gave an order that sounded large enough to feed ten people. Either he was very hungry or he was under the impression that she could eat like a linebacker. And that bothered her again, because she did indeed have an extraordinarily large appetite.

  Lucas returned to his chair. “It’ll be here in about fifteen minutes. While we wait, tell me all of your favorite things.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you won’t tell me anything personal about yourself, but I still want to know you. Just tell me the things you don’t mind me knowing.”

  She didn’t know why the question made her uncomfortable. He was asking for innocuous things that meant nothing to her, yet somehow she felt that if she told him anything at all, he could see everything.

  “Okay, let’s see…” Her mind searched for something that was insignificant but didn’t sound completely lame.

  Apparently understanding her difficulty, he asked, “What’s your favorite food?”

  “Cheeseburgers.”

  “Good, since that’s one of the meals I ordered.”

  He seemed so approving, McKenna suddenly felt stupid for not wanting to tell him trivial things. What would it hurt? So, one by one, she began to name her favorites, from flowers to movies, from songs to books.

  Lucas settled against the cushions of the sofa and watched a wonder unfold before him. McKenna’s eyes gleamed and her face became animated, beyond beautiful. She looked like an angel…as he’d often thought of her. He felt as if he were being given a gift. There was no trickery involved; she didn’t seem to realize that naming these favorites of hers gave him a tremendous amount of information.

  His mind formed a profile of McKenna, and while he enjoyed learning these things about her, he acknowledged it also made him want to know more. Such as why would someone so young seem to have no family, no one to care for them? She was clearly American. Her mannerisms and speech pattern gave that away. When he’d first met her, he’d thought midwestern, and he hadn’t changed his mind.

  She had an artful innocence about her. If he hadn’t witnessed it himself, he would never have believed that she could swat a fly, much less take out a psychopath like Victor Lymes. How had this McKenna come to be?

  The things she liked were very American. From food to movies and books, all reflected her American heritage. How long she’d been in Europe he didn’t know, but her core desires and heart were still with her native country. So why was she here in Paris, seemingly all alone?

  A chime at the door indicated their lunch had arrived. And with it, her wariness returned. Lucas felt a punch that went straight through to his gut. In that instant he realized something deeply disturbing. The captivating and enchanting McKenna was not only wary, she was absolutely terrified. Question was, What was she terrified of?

  Palm Beach, Florida

  Damon Hughes stared at the glittering water of his Olympic-sized swimming pool. Loneliness and rage made an odd combination, but it had been part of his life for so long, he had become used to its burning presence. This pool was for her. He’d had it built just for her, because she loved to swim. He remembered taking her to the lake when they first started dating. She’d been so sweet, so cute in her new bikini. The one her mother had told her she couldn’t buy. He’d given her the money and she’
d gone back the next day and bought it. She hadn’t liked being told what to do. He’d loved that hint of defiance and independence. Had seen it as a challenge.

  The emptiness of the pool taunted him. She should be swimming in it, enjoying herself. Instead, she continued to run from him. When would she learn her lesson? When every person she cared for was gone? Why hadn’t he seen that selfishness in her when they first met? When would she understand that he would never give up looking for her, wanting her, loving her? Years might have passed, but his love for her would never die.

  Her defiance against her parents had been funny. He’d encouraged it, nurtured it. It had worked so completely with his plans. However, her defiance against him had been another matter. Something he hadn’t been able to tolerate.

  “Mr. Hughes, the investigators are here.”

  Damon stood, resigned to hearing yet another of their failed reports. If he hadn’t been quite sure that everything was being done to find her, he would have had every one of the bastards ripped apart and fed to the sharks. But he believed them. The last couple of years, she’d become excellent at hiding. Where she’d gotten the help and the training to do such a thing bothered him almost as much as not being able to find her. If he ever found out who had assisted her, they’d be screaming for death long before he granted it to them.

  As he headed to his offices, he paid little attention to the opulence that surrounded him. He’d become accustomed to such things in the last few years. Though he had worked hard for his money and stature, they hadn’t brought him the happiness he sought. Happiness couldn’t exist until she was back in his arms, where she belonged.

  Delaying the inevitable, Damon bypassed his office and headed upstairs. His investigators would wait…they worked for him. He had a need to feel close to her for just a short period. If he were to hear, as he fully expected, that there were no leads, he wanted to have this peaceful memory in his head.

  He pulled the key from his pocket. He and his trusted housekeeper, Margret, were the only two who had access to this room. No one else dared come in here; they knew their lives would be over. He stepped inside and leaned against the closed door. He inhaled deeply, the scent of light floral perfume washing his senses in memory. Her favorite. He had it replaced each month so it wouldn’t lose its fragrance. Each day Margret would come in and dust the room, and before she left, she would spray just a hint so he could come in and enjoy it when he pleased.

  The room was pink and feminine. An exact replica of the bedroom she’d had as a teenager. And it was such a representation of her. Fair and delicate as a flower. That was one of the things he loved the most about her. She was all girl, pure femininity. No bows or frills, nothing silly. Just a soft, lovely fragility that literally made him ache.

  The first time he’d seen her, at a theater in Omaha, Nebraska, his heart had raced. He had sneaked in to watch the movie and had ended up watching her instead.

  She’d worn a blue sundress with white flowers on it. Her soft, golden brown hair had been long, reaching just above her beautiful bottom. She hadn’t giggled like so many other girls her age. She’d seemed serious, mature but oh so innocent. And though she was only sixteen, he knew from the moment he saw her that she was his dream come true.

  As usual, he was drawn to the photograph of her he’d had enlarged and framed. It was the first thing he’d put in this room; the only thing that was different from the original room. Sometimes he’d come in here and stand for hours, just gazing at her loveliness. Often, knowing no one was around to see him, he would let his tears flow freely. Tears of heartache; tears from her betrayal.

  Sighing, Damon turned from the portrait and gazed about the room again. A shrine to her. Out of his love, he had replaced everything she had lost. This was what she’d had before all the troubles started. Before her family intervened and ruined everything. Before she broke his heart.

  He had few regrets in his life. They were useless and insignificant, and they changed nothing. However, if he had to admit to one regret, he might have told her to leave the house. Years ago, he’d had a volatile temper and little discipline. Now he could control his rage and react with reason. Still, he had no remorse for what had happened. It had to be done.

  No, he would never regret killing McKenna’s parents. They’d deserved to die. He did, in his weakest of moments, wish that he hadn’t made her watch.

  three

  Careful not to touch her, Lucas replaced the blanket around McKenna’s shoulders that she’d knocked off during one of her nightmares. Settling back into the chair he’d sat in all night, he watched as she seemed to sleep peacefully. Seemed. Ha. When was the last time McKenna had slept in peace? In the three hours she’d been sleeping on the sofa, she’d tossed and turned, mumbled and cried. He had only understood a few of her mutterings. The words had made little sense, but the emotion in them had broken his heart.

  Before she’d fallen asleep, they’d talked for hours…most of the night. He’d told her things he’d never told another living soul. Concerns and worries he’d always kept to himself came out of him as though she were his therapist. Of course, he’d kept some vital information back. He hadn’t told her about his once secret life.

  When he’d joined the agency, he’d sworn an oath, and when he’d left the agency, he’d sworn the same oath. Never talk about the organization few people in the world knew existed. Having her know his background wasn’t pertinent to the here and now except for one tiny detail. He wanted to know who she was running from, because he wanted to find him.

  Would telling her make her trust him? She’d told him many things but almost nothing about where she’d come from or why she was so frightened. The information he’d gleaned about her had come from her likes and dislikes and reading between the lines. She was young, afraid, trying so hard to be strong and brave. And the obsession he’d had since meeting her had grown.

  She’d fallen asleep around four. He’d been in the midst of describing a sunset he’d experienced the last time he was in Tangiers. And like that setting sun, she’d sunk into the cushion of the sofa and drifted into slumber. It was one of the sweetest sights he’d ever witnessed. And one of the most humbling. She trusted him. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t be lying on his sofa, vulnerable and open.

  Lucas closed his eyes as arousal surged. Hell, having her trust him was one thing; having her trust him enough to make love to her would be altogether different. His angel would probably turn into a tigress if he made one move in a romantic direction. He’d have to take it slow, lure her with cheeseburgers and ice cream.

  Arousal surged harder. He’d watched her devour both, and it’d been a stimulating sexual experience beyond his understanding. Watching a woman who looked as ethereal as a specter consume a massive amount of food brought an unexpected lust to the surface. The pleasure she seemed to derive from eating made him wonder if she would make love with the same amount of energy and enthusiasm.

  He shifted in his seat again. Thinking about that was getting him nowhere. Lucas closed his eyes. A fifteen-minute snooze, then he’d resurface to stare and to figure out how the hell he could hold on to a woman he knew would never willingly be held.

  McKenna blinked, returning from the deepest sleep she’d had in years. Used to bounding out of bed and getting the hell out of wherever she was, this feeling of lethargic contentment was unprecedented and scary as hell. Nevertheless, she savored the sensation.

  Shifting her head on the pillow, she saw Lucas sitting across from her. His eyes were closed, their silver-gray depths hidden from view. Oh man, was she in trouble. Lucas was the only man she’d ever met that she would love to just sit and be with, talking about anything, everything, or nothing. She just wanted to be near him.

  He’d talked about his childhood, about the various schools he had attended, and about Kane Enterprises. He had seemed open, no shadows apparent. And then she’d asked about his father. He hadn’t minded talking about him, but the shadows had emerged. Dark, o
minous, and full of pain. There was love there and a hell of a lot of guilt.

  She wanted to know more; she wanted to know everything. He was a dangerous lure. One she damn well could not afford.

  Regret pulling at every cell and muscle in her body, McKenna put her feet on the floor. She would refresh herself in the bathroom and then get the hell out of here. She wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye. Not because it wouldn’t be the polite thing to do. Politeness had disappeared from her life long ago. However, they needed to get one thing straight before she disappeared from his life for good. He had to stop looking for her.

  Stepping quietly into the bathroom, she gazed around at the temptation. Lavish and expensive toiletries filled the room. Cursing herself for her one major weakness didn’t stop McKenna from taking advantage of such luxury. Though she refrained from taking a bubble bath in the giant Jacuzzi, she showered, taking advantage of the fragrant shower gel, expensive shampoo, and wondrously decadent body lotion.

  Twenty minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom, feeling like a new woman. Though she’d had to put on the same wrinkled clothing, beneath her jeans and T-shirt she felt feminine and pretty for the first time in years.

  The fragrance of breakfast assailed her senses the moment she opened the door. She’d told Lucas many things about herself last night. Nothing that would give him any real knowledge of her past, but he’d learned more things about her than anyone else on this earth. And from the scents of the breakfast he’d ordered, he had made use of that knowledge.

  Breakfast was her favorite meal. Her mom had been a wonderful cook and her father had been a breakfast lover. Every Sunday the family had shared what her dad referred to as a good old-fashioned country chow-down. Her heart clutched as she remembered what she’d once taken for granted, rolled her eyes at, and disdained. Oh God, how she wished she could take it all back. She would give anything and everything if only she could.