by Lee Taylor
He’d promised she’d see him again. Three months and no phone call, no scrawled note, nothing. She’d learned of his release from jail through the papers. Johnson with the FBI had called several days later to tell her that Grayson had been cleared of all murder charges. Whitfield, it seemed, was cooperating beautifully.
While Six-Star Enterprises was crumbling and the FBI went about arresting a larger and larger net of criminals involved with the Spider organization—though regional organizers like Finn Kayne were slipping through the holes—Vega had waited. She had to be a fool. The connection she’d made with Grayson had been magical, but surely it hadn’t been real.
Even so, her heart ached whenever she found reports of Spider in the headlines. They reminded her of Grayson. She’d allow herself to be vulnerable around him…what a damned fool.
“So?” Fiona asked, nearly bouncing in her seat. “What do you think this means?”
Vega shook her head as she read the article.
“Mega-Mogul of Whitfield Investments Murdered in Jail Cell,” the headline read. The article went on to detail Joshua Whitfield’s rise in the investment banking world and his connection to Spider. All the facts where laid out: how he’d provided a financial safe-haven for Spider; how he’d conspired with Butch to murder Greg Harper when he’d found out to much; and how they’d set Grayson up to take the blame. And the article praised the indomitable Vega Brookes—their words—and described how she had single-handedly discovered Whitfield’s dirty dealings and exposed the Spider crime organization.
“Before her, we had a vague idea that there was something building in the country,” Agent Johnson was quoted saying. “The FBI now has a name to put to the activities. Unfortunately, Whitfield was only one tentacle on this monster. There’s still a considerable amount of work to be done.”
Whitfield had been stabbed by one of his inmates with a sharpened butter knife just a week before he was to testify before a grand jury. “Authorities inside the prison suspect Spider’s involvement,” the paper quoted Johnson again.
“Whitfield’s death won’t get Butch off,” Fiona said over Vega’s silence. “They’ve got enough evidence on him to keep him locked up forever.”
“I know.”
“They didn’t mention my name once. I did help, you know. They said you single-handedly…”
“I know you helped.” Vega smiled. “That’s why I gave you half of Grayson’s bounty.”
“Four million dollars.” Fiona’s green eyes sparkled with excitement. “I still can’t believe Butch was going to be paid four million dollars to kill me. They were scared of me, Vega. Four million dollars scared.”
“Not just you.” Leave it to her sister to turn a brush with death into a victory. “We were a package deal…you, Grayson, and me. And you shouldn’t be so smug about it.”
“Smug? Me? Never!”
They both laughed. Vega couldn’t help but feel awe at how close they’d grown in such a short time.
“Vega! What in the world are you wearing?” Her mother scolded as she approached the table. They had plans with Gillie to spend the morning shopping followed with an extravagant lunch at the club. Vega glanced down at her short jeans skirt and slightly worn brown wool sweater, and wondered what was wrong with it. It wasn’t as if her mother had invited another bachelor to lunch for her to…
“Who’s coming?” She fought an urge to run for cover.
“No one. I just wish…oh, nothing. I just want you to be happy, dear.” Amazingly, since Grayson’s capture, the parade of bachelors had virtually stopped.
“I am happy,” Vega insisted.
Gillie gave her daughter a maternal once over and sighed. Things weren’t perfect with her family. Her mother had even started to take an interest in Vega’s life. Hell, normal be damned…they were getting closer as a family.
It felt pretty good.
“You look nice, Fiona.” Gillie took a seat at the table and fiddled in her purse for a moment before producing a small golden compact. “How is your arm feeling today?”
The morning flew by, as did the afternoon. After an exhausting day shopping and being friendly at the club, the three of them returned to their mother’s mansion for a refreshing bout of ‘girl-talk’.
Things were certainly changing.
And Jack. Well, he was still Jack. He arrived at Gillie’s sometime around four and promptly settled in a large velvet-covered armchair. Sipping on her mother’s best brandy he looked just about as pleased with himself as a cat bringing a plump, dead rat home to present to his owners.
“You’re not going to work alone anymore,” he announced out of the blue. “No more scaring the shit out of me, Vega. I’m teaming you up with a partner.”
“Not Fiona.” The words popped out of her mouth before she could think how hurtful she must have sounded. How like her father… “I mean, I don’t think she’s ready yet. Soon, but not yet.” No matter how good her sister became at defending herself, Vega doubted she’d ever be comfortable with her sister following in her footsteps. Fiona would always be the younger one, the one to be protected.
“Not Fiona,” Jack said softly with a broad smile in Fiona’s direction. “Someone else.”
And that was all he’d say.
No amount of prodding would get him to talk.
Not even a gentle threat of violence.
* * * *
Vega didn’t return to her apartment until pretty late that night. No matter how hard she tried, the surprise of meeting her new partner just an hour away still bounced around in Vega’s mind as she pushed open the door of her apartment.
She sensed his presence even before she saw him. He’d stolen into her space like the thief in her dreams.
He’d promised he’d come. But that had been three months ago. Her trust in his word had faded. And now there he stood, in the middle of her darkened living room no more real than a shadow.
“Should I think I’m dreaming?” Vega asked cautiously.
Without speaking a word or breaking the magic, he silently crossed the room and took her into his arms, crushing her against his chest.
She had enjoyed the sense of safety those erotic dreams of hers had given her. In the darkness, she could open her heart; confident he’d always return. Confident he’d never do anything to hurt her.
“You are real, aren’t you?” she said, reaching out to caress his rough jaw.
He nodded as he lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. Her heart pounded in her throat. True to his word, though painfully late, he’d come for her. He’d come to make love to her, to reawaken the emotions she’d discovered during that brief interlude on the island.
Having him finally here, in her apartment, was terrifying.
“You’re late.” She wiggled out of his embrace and crossed her arms high on her chest. “Several months late.”
“I know.” He drew his thumb across her lower lip. The simple gesture was so very intimate. She leaned forward and let him trace the outline of her upper lip. Her mouth opened slightly, anticipating. A warm shiver spiraled through her chest, settling low in her belly.
No. He wasn’t going to draw her in so easily. She backed away. “Why stay away? Why didn’t you at least call?”
“Why?” He raked a hand through his short, dusty brown hair. “Damn, this is going to be harder than I thought.”
Vega waited. Oh, it killed her to not just let him kiss away those twisting feelings of distrust.
“Mirna,” he whispered. “I needed to face her death. All these years and I’ve never really accepted… I was afraid that if I returned to work with you, I might make the same mistakes and get you killed.”
He took her back into his arms and buried his face in her hair. His hands traveled up and down her spine. “I went to Colombia after the feds let me go. That’s where I’ve been… putting the past behind me.”
He kissed her then, leaving her head spinning. “I had to find peace there, Vega, before I co
uld explore a future with you.”
* * * *
Two days later, Vega dragged Grayson from her bed to give him a tour of the city. He’d exhausted her—not physically, but deeper, in a nameless dark place—and she used the tour as an excuse for a break.
“It’s still overwhelming you?” he asked as she drove him through the Rivertown District and spouted off useless tidbits of information about the age of the converted warehouses in the area and the industries that used to rely on them.
“A little,” she admitted.
“Flirting with love can do that.”
Vega wasn’t ready to admit to such a problematic emotion.
“I don’t need the words,” Grayson said after several silent minutes. “I wasn’t fishing for them, you know.”
“I know.” Suddenly the interior of her Jeep felt too cramped for the both of them. Vega turned into the Civic Center Promenade, a riverfront park, and parked. She jumped out and gulped a deep breath of air. This being in love business was much more frightening than facing down a room full of hard-edged drug dealers.
“Let’s go for a walk along the water,” she suggested.
Grayson’s eyes widened as he looked up at the heavy-laden clouds above them. It was cold, and windy and about to rain buckets.
Vega didn’t give him the chance to protest. She forged down the path, not slowing until Grayson caught her hand.
“Don’t run away. I’m not trying to rush anything, I swear.” He linked his fingers with hers and walked beside her down the path. He didn’t have a jacket on, only a heavy cotton sweater. Vega’s new leather coat—the third one in as many months—kept her reasonably warm against the spring’s damp chill.
“I do like having you around,” Vega admitted. Jack had made a good choice with making Grayson her partner. She looked forward to their first assignment. “We’ll make a good team, you and me.”
Grayson nodded absently. His hand tightened around hers. Without any more noticeable change than that, his manner went from playful lover to killer on the prowl.
“What?” Vega asked.
The attack came from behind. A blade tore into the front of her jacket. She chopped the attacker’s wrist before the steel tip could bite into her skin. The dark-haired attacker shouted a pained sound and looked up in shock.
“Finn?”
He tore away in a hard run.
She pulled her father’s Glock out of her purse and took pursuit. Finn was fast, but she was faster. Even Grayson struggled to keep up.
At the water’s edge, she closed the gap, grabbed the back of Finn’s shirt, and spun him around. He kicked out and knocked the side of her hand. The Glock spun end-over-end sailing over the railing, falling toward the dark, swirling Detroit River.
“No!” Vega watched helplessly as her last link to her father spun away. Finn slipped from her grasp.
“You okay?” Grayson asked as he leaned over the railing. Her father’s gun landed in his outstretched hand.
She drew a deep breath and held it while staring dumbly at the pistol.
“My dad’s Glock,” she said at last.
“Yeah?” He gave her a queer look. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” Vega shook off the ghosts of the past. Grayson had given her what she’d been chasing all those years. By being there for her, she finally found safety in love. She trusted him not only with her life, but also with her heart. “Nothing’s wrong at all.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Vega smiled. “Let’s go follow Finn.”
They traced his trail down a long stretch of the promenade to a dim, narrow alleyway leading between a row of brick buildings.
“I think I saw him take off that way,” Grayson said and insisted on going first.
She didn’t argue. Finn would be long gone.
At the end of the alley, behind a new green dumpster, they found him. Color her wrong. He hadn’t gotten very far at all. His body was sprawled out in a muddy puddle. His own stiletto knife stuck obscenely into the center of his chest. The first thing Vega noticed was a glossy photo of a neon green spider that appeared ready to leap lying on his forehead.
“Spider,” Grayson said.
“Looks like they’re cleaning up loose ends.” She called the police and gave them the briefest of details. They would arrive on the scene within a few minutes. There was no need to stand guard over the body, and Vega had no desire to stare at it.
“They better not consider you a loose end,” Grayson grumbled as they walked away.
“My guess, Finn was acting alone today. After losing Six-Star as a financial base, Spider will need to regroup. According to Snitch, the organization’s gone to ground. Finn coming after me would naturally cause problems. I’m a danger to them. They don’t want me interested.”
Grayson stopped her then. “Are you?” he asked.
“Interested?” A smile warmed Vega. She could not seem to take her eyes from Grayson’s open expression. His concern touched her in places she’d once thought untouchable. “Not today,” she said. “I think I’m distracted.”
Grayson slipped his arms around her shoulders. “Good.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. Exquisite shivers hummed down her chest and spread a seductive heat throughout her body. “Let’s go home then.”
Vega snuggled closer, burying her face in his thick cotton sweater. The soft fibers tickled her nose. She ignored the sirens, growing louder and the drizzling rain that had begun to fall, and breathed in Grayson’s spicy low-country heat.
Her world felt so very safe and quiet here, wrapped in his arms. And for the moment at least, safe and quiet suited Vega just fine.
Thank you for reading
THE HUNTRESS
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About the Author
For Regency and mystery author, Dorothy McFalls happily-ever-after is more than just a fictional ending, having enjoyed every day of marriage to her sexy sculptor husband. Formerly an environmental urban planner, she now writes full time. For information about Dorothy's upcoming books, visit her website at http://www.dorothymcfalls.com/
Dorothy also writes cozy mysteries as Dorothy St. James, including the White House Gardener Mystery series, which critics have called “spunky” and “fast-paced.” Learn more about her mystery releases at http://www.dorothystjames.com/
Acknowledgments
I'd like to give a special thanks to Tracey West and Luisa Pugliano for helping this book finally make its way into publication.
And to Judy Ashley for helping revise this book and giving me the encouragement to stick with it!
Copyright
THE HUNTRESS
Copyright (c) 2006 by Dorothy McFalls
Cover art and design (c) 2012 by Razzle Dazzle Stock
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.