Viper's Kiss

by Shannon Curtis

  A log shifted, and Maggie whipped around in time to see Tiny poke at the logs, pushing the brand into the heart of the fire.

  “What about your daughter?” Make your enemy see you as a person, she thought. She knew she was clutching at straws. “You said I reminded you of her.”

  Bates’s face darkened, and his hand shot out to wrap around her neck. Maggie fell back onto her wrists, her eyes bulging as he cut off her air supply.

  “How dare you talk about my daughter,” Bates shouted. “

  Maggie struggled, thrashing her body in an effort to fight off the man choking the life out of her. The pounding in her head grew louder as pressure built inside her skull.

  Gagging noises came from her throat as his grip loosened, and she tried to breathe. She’d struck a nerve.

  “What—happened—to—her?” She managed to choke the words out.

  Bates let go and stood back, breathing hard from his exertions.

  “She died in Iraq.”

  Maggie rolled to her side, gulping in deep breaths as she tried to think. Iraq? His daughter had been in the service? But why would he steal a weapon that could help the military? Or be used against it?

  “I don’t understand,” she admitted hoarsely. “Why do you want the suit if your daughter fought for our country?”

  Bates snorted. “She wasn’t in the military, you fool. She was there for business when the war started. They called her a casualty of war.” He made a noise of disgust. “Friendly fire. The man got away with murder.”

  Pieces started to fall into place.

  “You want the suit for revenge against the military for the accidental death of your daughter?” Horror seized Maggie. She wasn’t sure she had it right. How could he blame the very people who were fighting on his behalf? The whole country’s behalf. What did he plan to do with the suit? And how could he hope to get away with it?

  Bates remained calm, impervious. As though what she was saying didn’t bother him in the least. Realization hit.

  “It’s not the whole military, though, is it? You’re a wealthy man, one with connections. You found out his identity, didn’t you?” Her eyes widened. “You want to go after the man who pulled the trigger.”

  “He dropped a bomb, actually. And the pilot will never stand trial for my daughter’s murder.”

  Goosebumps broke out over Maggie’s arms. All this was a complex plan for murder. There were no international interests for the suit. No fanatical belief system spawning a diabolical plan of annihilation. It was revenge, pure and simple.

  “You want to kill him with your bare hands, is that it? In a way that no one will be able to prove it was you. It’s hard to witness a murder if the murderer is invisible, is that it?”

  “Something like that,” Bates admitted, nodding to Tiny. Maggie twisted to see what the man was doing.

  He pulled the poker out of the fire, its tip glowing red against the dark-walled background, like an evil eye glaring from the depths of hell.

  Tiny approached her, his intent obvious.

  “No,” she pleaded, learning a new level of fright. They were going to kill her over something she had no control of.

  She thought of her mother, of not giving her mother a proper mourning, of the things she’d planned to do with her life and hadn’t yet had the opportunity to do. And she thought of Luke, wishing she’d had more time with him to explore the new emotions he’d inspired. She wished she’d had the opportunity to discover if they really had something special between them.

  “Now, suppose we try again? Where is my suit?” Bates asked, his tone polite. As though he hadn’t just tried to kill her.

  Maggie shook her head, her pulse racing as panic swamped her. Tiny brought the glowing poker close to her face.

  “I told you, I don’t have it,” she cried.

  Tiny’s beefy hand grabbed her chin, holding her head still as he brought the poker toward her eye.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sweat broke out on her upper lip and brow. She blinked at the heat radiating from the poker, trying to hydrate her eye as Tiny brought it ever closer.

  “This is your last chance, Kincaid. Tell me where the suit is, or my friend Tiny here will start branding you like a heifer.”

  Her vision filled with the red tip looming closer and closer.

  “I didn’t take it,” she yelled, trying to pull her chin out of Tiny’s grip, struggling against her bonds.

  The sudden sound of breaking glass echoed through the room and the burgundy curtains billowed and collapsed to the floor. Tiny and Bates whirled around. Maggie took advantage of the moment to scuttle backwards until the hard contact of the desk stopped her. Her wide eyes flicked around the room. She didn’t know what had caused the disruption, but she was glad for the reprieve.

  Thud! Tiny’s head snapped to the side. Another thud and he bent over, wheezing. Tiny lifted the poker, but it flew out of his hand and across the room. Maggie stared, confused. Something was happening, but she had no idea what. It was as if a poltergeist had entered the room.

  Bates roared as Tiny stumbled back, his head jerking from one side to the other. The sound of invisible fists striking flesh and bone were a rhythmic partner to his spasmodic movements.

  Bates ran to the poker that lay on the floor, swept it up and yelled as he ran toward the phantom assaulting Tiny.

  Maggie screamed. She couldn’t even try to make sense of what her eyes were seeing.

  Bates stepped closer to Tiny and started swinging the poker with a viciousness that looked maniacal, even comical, as he struck the air in an effort to hit something, anything.

  His face was purple with rage, his eyes wild and bulging. Tiny fell back onto the floor, struggling with an invisible opponent, and Bates growled in triumph. He raised the poker and brought it down forcefully. The poker struck home, but not the target he’d intended, its hooked tip piercing Tiny’s forehead. Bates stopped as Tiny’s body jerked, then slumped. Life left the man’s eyes, blood streaming from the head wound.

  Maggie gagged in revulsion.

  Bates’s body was knocked flying, and he fell in a heap in front of the fire. The poker slipped out of his hands.

  His shoulders rose off the floor, his head lolling as his dazed eyes stared upward. Then his face jerked to the side, blood spurting from a cut that opened up on his lip. The poltergeist thingy held him in its grip.

  Maggie tried to scoot behind the desk, her breath coming in choking pants.

  Bates snarled as he grabbed the air in front of him, raised his legs and pitched his invisible foe over his head and into the fireplace.

  Invisible. Maggie’s eyes rounded as a roar of pain filled the room.

  Flames detached from the fire and stumbled into the room.

  Maggie gaped. The air shimmered as the flames licked at a silhouette.

  Another bellow, and Luke’s face appeared above the flames, then his broad shoulders and torso as he shrugged out of the flaming suit, shucking it over his hips and down his legs before kicking it off his feet. With a sweep of his leg he kicked the burning garment into the fire.

  Bates charged Luke and Maggie held her breath as they grappled.

  Luke used his forearm to block a punch from the wealthy CEO, then jabbed him in the kidneys with the heel of his hand, following with a brutal roundhouse kick that caught his opponent squarely in the chin.

  Bates stumbled back and tripped on the poker. He fell, landing in the blazing hearth.

  Maggie flinched as Bates roared in pain. He launched himself out of the fireplace, his expensive suit erupting into flames. Luke dodged several fiery blows. He whirled, grabbed one of the fallen curtains and threw it over the burning man, tackling him to the ground and smothering the flames.

  Sirens wailed in the distance. The door to the study was kicked in with a crash, and Maggie sagged in relief as Drew burst into the room.

  He paused briefly at the sight of Tiny’s body, pooled blood around the head staining the gold
en pattern on the carpet. Maggie watched as Drew hurried to help Luke restrain a shaking Bates, who spat abuse in between agonized groans.

  “He’s burned pretty bad,” Luke informed Drew.

  Drew shook his head as he surveyed the burned flesh on the now-unrecognizable man.

  “You bastards,” Bates snarled, his charred lips twisting in an unnatural line.

  “Shut up, Dick.” Luke let Drew take over and turned to face Maggie.

  She was trying hard not to blubber, but she was just so damned relieved. Relieved that she was alive, relieved that Luke was alive.

  He strode over to her and squatted by her side, untying the ropes around her wrists and ankles in quick succession. As soon as her hands were free, she threw her arms around his neck. “Are you okay?”

  Luke flinched, but wouldn’t let her go. “Just a little singed, nothing to worry about.” He tightened his hold on her. “How are you? You’ve damn near taken ten years off my life. God, when I saw that lug holding that poker to your face, I almost died.” He pressed his lips to her forehead.

  “Me too,” she admitted, a small smile curving her lips. “But I didn’t, thanks to you.” She pulled him to her with gentle arms, enjoying the feel of his body warm against hers. He was so solid. So comforting.

  Police swarmed the study, and the large room seemed to shrink with the amount of activity that followed.

  An attending paramedic patched up Maggie’s forehead as Bates was strapped to a gurney. An officer read him his rights as the gurney was wheeled from the room. Bates yelled the entire time. Maggie shivered as his vitriol echoed down the hallway outside the room, and Luke rubbed his hand up and down her arm to give her comfort and warmth.

  That man has a whole lot of hate trapped inside him. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost. So many people had died in his thirst for revenge—the security guard at Tek-Intel, the two police detectives, and a stripper whose only crime was to resemble a librarian.

  Drew approached them, hesitant.

  “Uh, Luke, they’re asking about the suit.”

  Luke nodded toward the fire. “It’s ashes. The damn thing nearly fried me to a crisp.”

  Drew shut his eyes in a grimace. “They’re not going to be happy. Viper has just admitted to destroying the research.”

  Maggie frowned. “It was the first prototype. Obviously it was flawed. It would have failed the first stress test.” She glanced up at Luke and smiled. “But I’m glad it lasted as long as it did.”

  Luke stared at the still burning fireplace. “I think it’s for the good. I don’t think the world is quite ready for the Visi-suit.”

  Drew put his hands on his hips and sighed. He glanced at the fireplace, then back at Luke. “Okay, but you’re definitely the one telling Reese.”

  “In time.” Luke buried his face in Maggie’s hair and took a deep breath. “In time.”

  Relief calmed the dragons fighting in her stomach. They were alive, that was enough. She closed her eyes and sat. At peace, in the arms of the man she loved.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Luke trailed a finger up Maggie’s arm, loving the soft glide of silky skin. She must be exhausted. The FBI had “interviewed” her for several hours, until he’d called for a break. They were due to return the next day for a final debriefing, but she would avoid arrest. His finger traced her collarbone. She trembled. He smiled. Maybe not that exhausted.

  A sigh left her lips as his hand slid under the sheet to cup her breast.

  “Why the big sigh?” His eyes closed as he inhaled her vanilla scent. Beautiful. She was beautiful. She was everything he hadn’t known he’d wanted in a woman, in a partner. He thumbed a pebbled nipple, feeling himself swell as passion stirred to life between them. Again.

  “I’ve been thinking,” she said, her voice hesitant.

  His movements stilled. His eyes opened. Uh-oh. “Thinking? About what?” He knew what could happen when she used her brain. Thankfully there were no smoke bombs or forklifts in their hotel room.

  He lifted his head to gaze down at her. Her gray, slumberous, just-been-loved expression changed to a pensive, let’s-talk-about-serious-stuff look.

  “About us.”

  His eyebrows rose. “What about us?” His internal alarm bells started to jingle.

  She pulled herself up on her elbows to face him, and she grasped one of his hands.

  “You’ll be going back to Chicago.”

  He toyed with her fingers. “And you’ll be coming with me, right?” They’d only spent a short time together, but he couldn’t think of not being with her.

  Seeing Tiny hold a hot poker to her face was like a switch flicking on inside him. He’d been swamped with emotion. Yes, he’d felt protective. And angry at the men who held her, but there was more. Something fiercer, something undeniable. He’d fallen in love with Maggie. She calmed him inside. Made him think of things, like a home and family.

  “I’m not sure,” she whispered.

  He sat up slowly, feeling cool air brush across his torso as the sheet slipped down to pool around his hips. Yep, those alarm bells were definitely ringing.

  “What do you mean, you’re not sure?”

  Her chin wobbled. She looked like she was about to cry. Good. He felt like he was about to cry, too, damn it.

  Her hand moved in an aimless gesture. “I have very strong feelings for you,” she said softly. Thank God for that. He nodded.

  “I have very strong feelings for you too.” This was good. They were getting somewhere.

  “I just don’t know how genuine those feelings are,” Maggie said, her big gray eyes serious. “Or how permanent. We’ve been thrown into a dangerous situation. Strong emotions are a common side effect of dangerous situations.”

  “Are you talking about your damn Disaster Recovery Syndrome?” he asked, his muscles clenching.

  “Disaster Relationship Syndrome,” she corrected. “Yes.” She took a deep breath. “I have never felt this strongly for anyone before. Naturally, I’m cautious. I want to make sure it’s real before we do something we’ll regret later.”

  Luke sat back, stunned. He felt like she’d slapped him. “I know what I’m feeling, Maggie, and it’s not some Disaster Recuperation Syndrome.”

  “Relationship.”

  “Whatever.” He grabbed her hand and held it to his chest. “Do you feel my heart beating for you? That’s real.” He lowered her hand to his groin so that she was cupping him. Her jaw dropped. “Do you feel my desire for you? That’s real.”

  He raised his other hand and clasped the back of her neck, pulling her toward him. “Do you doubt this?” he asked, before he kissed her. He poured everything into that kiss. All the emotion, all the love, all the passion she raised in him.

  He drew back, meeting her gray gaze. “Do you doubt me?”

  Tears gave her eyes an added luminosity. “I want to be sure,” she replied, her expression pained. “I’m sorry, Luke. I just need time. I need to bury my mother, figure out what I want to do. I need to make sure this is real.”

  Luke understood. He did. She’d been through so much. He also felt as though she’d taken the hot poker from Tiny and stabbed him with it. He breathed through pursed lips. She doubted her feelings for him. She doubted his sincerity. He wanted to yell. He wanted to punch the wall. He loved her.

  He rose from the bed, his heart pounding as he jerked on his pants.

  “Wait,” she said, lifting her hand toward him. He grabbed his shirt and shoes and turned to look at her. Her tresses fell in wild disarray, her gray eyes were worried, and her mouth pulled down at the corners.

  “You want time. Fine. Take all the time you need.” He reached over and wiped the tear that trailed down her cheek. “Just let me know when you’ve figured it out.” He left the room, shutting the door behind him and leaning back against it, closing his eyes against the pain.

  He could hear her crying on the other side of the door, her sobs tearing his heart into smaller and smaller pie
ces. He opened his eyes.

  And left.

  Chapter Twenty

  Maggie paused, pen in hand. Could she do it? She took a breath. She’d weighed her options, looked at it from every angle. She’d even written pros and cons lists. I can do this.

  She signed her name with a flourish before sliding the contract back across the desk to the man who sat behind it.

  She could understand why Luke, Drew and Noah all held Reese McCormack in such high esteem. He was charismatic, wearing power with the same comfort as his dark tailored suit. His shoulders and chest hinted at his core strength and a vigor that she recognized could not be attributed solely to time in a gym, but to a lifestyle of physical work.

  His teeth flashed white and bright beneath a brown moustache as he slashed his pen across the page in one efficient movement. He was good looking, too, in a dangerous-beneath-the-suit kind of way. Not that Maggie was attracted. She seemed to have developed a preference for blonds.

  “Good. I want any woman who can single-handedly capture an international spy and give three of my men the slip not once, but twice, working for me.” Reese winked at her across the desk.

  Maggie’s lips curved into a smile. Reese had introduced himself to her the day after Bates’s arrest. Once all the debriefing was completed with the various authorities, he’d offered her a job. She’d had to sit down at the mention of the salary. As a data analyst at the McCormack Security Agency she’d be paid more than four times her librarian’s wages at the university. She’d be able to pay off her mother’s medical bills within a year. The job would involve travel, Reese had warned her, but he would compensate her for that. Go figure. He thought she should be paid to travel!