by Cynthia Eden
“Why?”
His smile dimmed.
“When we first met…” Not a happy memory. Not even close. She’d been held captive in a basement, with a bomb strapped to her chest. Another of her father’s enemies had been planning to kill her. “I asked you to just let me vanish. I wanted to disappear, not get sucked into the FBI’s web.”
“My boss had other plans.”
“And just who is this boss of yours?”
“Assistant Director Percy Chase.”
“Yes, okay, that name means nothing to me.” But the fact that he was finally talking to her—actually sharing information about the FBI—that mattered. “Why didn’t you just let me go? Why didn’t the FBI let me disappear?” At first, she’d thought she was safe, but that illusion had been shattered fast.
The FBI had always been watching her.
Always.
“Your father…he’s supposed to be working with us, did you know that?”
Now she was shocked. “Luther Bates never works with the cops.”
“He does…if we have something he wants badly enough.”
No, no, no. The plane jostled then, hitting some turbulence, and her heart shuddered.
“Do you know what Luther wants?” Victor asked her, voice completely devoid of emotion.
“Luther wants his freedom.” This she knew. “He wants to be back out on the streets and back in full power.”
Victor nodded, but he said, “Don’t hold back, Zoe.”
“He wants me.” She said those words in a quick rush, like they were a dark secret that no one else should hear.
“He does. You’re his family, Zoe. He wants to make sure that you’re protected. The FBI pulled you back in…because that’s part of the deal we have with him.”
“I don’t think I want to hear anymore.” She didn’t. Not another word about her bastard of a father. She’d already figured this out, anyway. After all, she’d known there must have been a reason she had FBI guards. Why they were trying to keep her alive. Why—
“As long as you stay alive. Luther has promised that he’ll cooperate with us. And he has been…giving up some bits and pieces about his empire. Telling us about his enemies. Their organizations. Helping us to make drug busts. To stop cartels. To find shipments of weapons.” He gave a grim shake of his head. “Luther may be behind bars, but he still knows exactly what is happening on the streets.”
“Because he still has control.” Another jostle of the plane had her whole body tensing.
Victor started to speak. She saw his lips part, but then he stopped.
“What?” Zoe asked.
No answer.
“Victor…”
He unhooked his seat belt and came to sit beside her. “You’re afraid.”
The plane jerked again. “The plane won’t stop bouncing.” And to think, she’d been so impressed by the fancy jet. Not anymore.
He checked her seat belt, then twined her fingers with his. “You’re safe.”
Sharp laughter escaped her. “You tell me that a lot, but…” She squeezed his hand. “I don’t always believe you,” she confessed.
“I know.” He lifted their twined fingers and kissed her knuckles. “I’m working on that issue.”
He was so confusing. “You want me to feel safe?” Zoe asked him. “Then distract me. Tell me something. Tell me about you.” Because she’d been the one doing all the talking. All the sharing.
“Fine. You ask me anything—anything at all—and I’ll answer you honestly.”
Okay. “Why did you join the FBI?”
Silence.
“Victor…”
“Because I would have made too good of a criminal.”
What?
The plane bounced, she squeezed his hand harder, and her attention stayed on him.
“I grew up hard,” Victor told her. His eyes seemed to turn darker with whatever memories he experienced. “I was on the street most days, and I spent plenty of nights literally fighting to survive.”
At those words, her gaze dipped to their joined hands. She looked at his knuckles—really looked at them—and saw the faint scars that lined his hands.
“The fights weren’t exactly sanctioned. You stayed in the ring until your opponent couldn’t move or until you were the one who got dragged out.”
That couldn’t be Victor’s life. He was…
That isn’t him.
“I was barely skirting the law most days. Going down a path I shouldn’t take. A path that was too easy, but I fucking didn’t want to end up a criminal. I had a choice. I figured, maybe if I was so good at the criminal life…if I could think like them…maybe I could stop some of them.”
Her breath left her in a quick rush. “So you risk your life every day—”
“Because I’ve seen firsthand just how many lives are destroyed by monsters. By men like…”
But he stopped.
She didn’t. “Men like my father.”
His head inclined toward her.
“Thank you for telling me,” she whispered.
Once more, he raised their joined hands to his mouth and pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles.
It took her a few moments to realize… “No more turbulence.”
“No. It’s stopped.”
But he didn’t let her hand go.
And she didn’t mind.
***
When the plane touched down in Vegas, Victor escorted Zoe out of the airport, and he found a sleek limo waiting for them.
His brows rose at the sight. Drake Archer was leaning against the back of that limo, dressed in a high-priced suit and wearing dark glasses. His blond hair was tousled, and a smirk rested on his face.
Drake smirked well.
He was a tough sonofabitch. Smart. Dangerous. Victor hadn’t much cared for him when they first met, mostly because Drake had been too interested in—
One of the limo’s back doors opened. “You think you can come to Vegas, use my husband’s jet and not call me?” Jasmine Archer demanded, her red hair shone under the airport lights.
Jasmine. Jazz. The closest thing to a sister he’d ever had.
Beside Victor, Zoe had stiffened. She probably wondered what in the hell was happening. He should explain things to her. Only—
Jasmine rushed forward and gave him a hug. “Seriously, I should kick your ass,” she muttered. “Coming to our town and not calling me. Trying to leave me out of the fun.”
“It’s not about fun.” Dammit. She wasn’t working with the FBI any longer. He was trying to keep her safe. “I’m working a case.”
Jasmine eased back. She glanced from him to Zoe, then back to him. Speculation glinted in her eyes. Then she smiled at Zoe, flashing the dimples that always made her look deceptively innocent, and offered her hand. “Hello, there. I’m Jasmine, Drake’s wife.”
Shock flashed across Zoe’s face. “I’m Zoe. Zoe—”
“She’s just Zoe,” Victor interrupted, knowing that he sounded too gruff, but he’d busted ass to give Jasmine a safe life. The last thing he wanted was for her to get too involved in the mess that was his case with Luther Bates. He tossed a glare at Drake. “I asked for the plane. The plane and a low profile.”
Drake shrugged.
Zoe was still shaking Jasmine’s hand.
Victor tugged her free of the other woman and pretty much pushed them all into the limo. Just standing around outside wasn’t the safest plan ever. When the door shut behind them and the driver started the car a few moments later, Victor tossed a hard glare at Drake. “Is it so much to ask that you keep Jasmine safe?”
Drake’s eyes turned to slits. “You know I’d give my life to protect her.”
Actually, yeah, the guy almost had done that very thing.
Jasmine cleared her throat. “We don’t have secrets, Vic.” Her fingers twined with Drake’s. “It’s kind of our thing.”
He could feel his cheeks flushing. Only Jasmine could do that to him. He’d met her
so many years ago. When he’d been a different person. When she had been.
He, Jasmine, and their third damn Musketeer, Saxon Black. They should never have formed that weird ass family unit. They should have hated each other. Or at least, he and Saxon should have.
He and Saxon had been fighters, in a match that had been far from legal. They’d been kids, too big and too strong. Rough teens. Their job had been to pound each other until only one guy was left standing. Too bad he and Saxon had both been very good at giving punches—and taking them.
Their fight had gone on too long. And in the end, they’d both still been on their feet, staggering.
Everyone else had left. He and Saxon had been about to collapse, then Jasmine had appeared. She’d patched them up. Kept them both alive.
And the three of them…for a long time, it was the three of us against the world.
But Jasmine was with Drake now. And Saxon…the guy had cut ties with the FBI and moved out to California…where he was currently settled with his new wife.
A wife who had some very, very personal ties to Zoe. I can’t tell her about those ties.
More secrets. More lies. Because that’s our thing.
Victor’s gaze darted around that darkened limo. Traveling via the private jet had definitely saved them a whole lot of time. Now the big goal would be to keep Zoe out of the spotlight. He cleared his throat and said, “The fewer folks who know Zoe is in Vegas, the better it is for her.”
“It’s pretty easy to disappear in Sin City,” Jasmine murmured. “I’ve certainly done that a time or two myself.”
Zoe leaned forward, her shoulder sliding against Victor’s arm. “That’s why we’re here, actually. One of my friends has disappeared. I came out to find her before but…” He felt her gaze land on him. “Someone cut that search sort.”
“Because I was trying to save your sweet ass,” he said, too aware that his voice had become a rough growl.
Drake gave a low laugh. “So…what? Something changed for you? You’re not worried about her sweet ass any longer?”
Drake could be such a bastard. If the guy didn’t make Jasmine so ridiculously happy…I would totally kick his ass.
“We have a deal,” Zoe said, her voice soft but carrying easily in the back of that limo. “Victor promised to help me find her.”
Drake’s fingers tapped against his knee. “I’ve had some experience with Victor and his…deals.”
Was the guy still furious over their past? So Victor had lied to Drake. Betrayed him. Let that shit go, man.
“Victor helps you…” Drake mused. “But what does Victor get out of that deal? What’s in it for him?”
I made her promise me anything. Would she admit that? No, no, Victor didn’t think she’d reveal—
“That part is between us.” Again, her voice was still soft. “But I know I can count on Victor. He hasn’t let me down. In fact, he’s the reason I’m still alive.”
Jasmine was silent. A dangerous sign. Jazz was definitely not the silent type.
“Give me the name of the missing woman,” Drake said. “I’ll get my security team to start running down leads. If you’re trying to stay out of the spotlight, let them do most of the recon work while you take refuge in my hotel. Trust me, you’ll be safe there.”
“No offense,” Zoe said. “But trust isn’t going to enter the equation for me.”
“I trust him,” Victor told her. And he did. It wasn’t like he would have let the guy marry Jasmine otherwise. Drake Archer was ruthless, demanding, and dangerous, but he was also one of the good guys.
Semi-good, anyway.
“I trust him,” Victor repeated, lowering his voice, wanting Zoe to know that he wasn’t leading her into any kind of trap.
But I am. Sonofabitch, I am.
“Tell me the missing woman’s name,” Drake said.
Zoe hesitated. The car kept eating up the distance as it headed toward those bright Vegas lights. “Michelle,” she finally said. “Michelle Lane.”
Chapter Seven
Drake took them to a private entrance at the hotel. There were definite perks involved when you arrived with the hotel’s owner. A private entrance, a private elevator. A quick trip to a reserved suite on the top floor that kept them away from prying eyes.
Drake opened the door to the suite and escorted Zoe inside. Victor started to follow them, but Jasmine reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him.
“What in the hell are you doing with Zoe Peters?”
Ah. Right. Figured that Jasmine would recognize her, even though he’d only let Zoe give her first name during the big introduction moment. Considering that Jazz had worked plenty of undercover assignments, she would have definitely been circulating with folks who knew Zoe…and her father, Luther Bates.
“I’m keeping her alive,” he said, turning to stare down into her eyes.
“Bull. You’re using her.”
Now he was the one to turn his hand and grab her wrist. He pulled her away from the door. “What the hell?” His words were whispered. “Zoe might hear you!” Because she hadn’t been whispering.
“Good. Maybe the woman needs to hear me.” Jasmine jerked her hand free of him and glared—and no one could glare quite like her. Her eyes went all icy on him. “You do this. I’ve seen you do this crap in the field. You get all focused on the FBI and what it wants and you forget that real people are paying the price. Real people are getting hurt—”
“I’m helping her!”
She gave a hard shake of her head. “Victor, sell this story to someone who hasn’t known you as long as I have. Let me guess…you told her that the two of you were a team? That you’d help her to find her missing friend?”
“Seriously, Jazz, lower your voice!” He threw a quick glance over his shoulder. Luckily, Drake still had Zoe somewhere in the back of that suite.
“In return for your help, what will you get? You think you’ll get her to talk to her dad? Get some kind of family moment going so Luther Bates—Luther Fucking Killer Bates—will start playing friendly with the FBI?”
“He’s already talking to us.”
Her gaze widened. “Because you’re protecting her.”
Yeah. “He was supposed to keep cooperating. Supposed to turn on the other SOBs he’d worked with, but recently, he’s started pulling back. There’s some rumbles that he’s working to get a new trial. The guy thinks he’s going to get out.”
Her breath expelled in a quick rush. “You suspect he’s been stringing you along, huh? Just feeding you small fish as he bided his time.”
That was the fear, yeah. “So we need something big on the guy. We need to get the power and make him cooperate.”
Her attention shifted toward the suite. “I didn’t think Zoe was supposed to be involved in her father’s work.”
“She isn’t.” His immediate denial. And, yeah, maybe it was a hot denial.
Jasmine’s brows shot up at his response.
“Zoe isn’t a criminal. The FBI is not looking to bust her for anything.” Hell, no. “But…but we believe she may know a bit more about his activities.”
“Using her.” She nodded, looking sad. “How many lies have you already told that poor woman?”
“You don’t understand us.”
“There is no ‘us’ here. There’s you, doing your job, and then there’s Zoe…falling for you.”
His heartbeat quickened.
“Don’t act as if you don’t see it happening. It’s in her eyes. In the way she watches you. Touches you. Zoe doesn’t realize that it’s all just business for you, though. She doesn’t understand that when you have what you want, you’ll walk away.”
Walk away…from Zoe?
“God, Vic, how can you be so cruel? How can you hurt her like that?”
He took a step back. “Hurting Zoe isn’t part of my plan.”
“That’s the only way this ends. You get so caught up in the mission. In bringing down the bad guy. You don’t see th
e collateral damage that you leave in your wake.”
“I’m not hurting Zoe.” He wasn’t. He…didn’t want to hurt her. He…Zoe can’t be hurt. I can make sure she’s okay. I can—
“Victor, I love you, but you are playing with too much fire on this one.”
He glanced over his shoulder once more. Only Zoe was there now. Staring at him with—fuck me, with hurt in her eyes. Her gaze slid from him to Jasmine, then back.
No, no, no. Victor immediately hurried to Zoe’s side. “I can explain.”
But she backed up a step.
“It’s okay.” The words came from Drake. “She’s his sister, just not one by blood.” A mocking laugh slipped from him. “You think I’d let my wife’s ex-lover borrow my jet? Hell, no.” He strode toward a watchful Jasmine. “He’s her family, and we all know…family can be a pain in the ass.”
Zoe’s lips curled in a weak smile. “You have no idea.”
Yeah, she’d rather dominate in any My-Family-Is-The-Worst game.
“You two get some rest,” Drake said, inclining his head toward them. “As soon as my team makes progress, I’ll contact you right away.” Then he and Jasmine were walking away. Their damn steps were even in perfect sync.
Victor glanced away from the couple and back at Zoe. Her gaze was shadowed. Before he could speak, she turned around and headed back into the suite. Victor hurriedly followed her. He locked the door and ditched his coat. Then he took a moment to take off his holster and put the gun on the entrance table. “Zoe…”
She stilled. She was near the big windows that looked out over the bright Vegas lights.
“I want you to be clear on this. If you…if you heard Jasmine saying she loves me—”
“I caught that part.”
Okay. “She’s like a sister to me. I don’t have a real family. I mean, a blood family. Jasmine is real. She and Saxon Black—they are the only family I have.”
She turned toward him. “I remember Saxon.”
He sucked in a deep breath and knew that he had to tread very, very carefully here.
“Saxon,” she repeated the name, as if tasting it. “He was the other man who came to my rescue when that damn bomb was strapped to me. The two of you were quite a team. Rushing to the rescue.” She looked down at her hands. “Until he got shot.”