by Lora Leigh
No, he wasn’t in love, but she wouldn’t be the one to disillusion the little romantic.
Tehya looked into the mirror again. This dress was a beautiful confection of silk and dreams. It was the romantic heart that had envisioned it, that had created it.
But when it was all said and done, Jordan would walk away from her just as he had countless other women before her. He didn’t believe in love. It was an illusion as far as he was concerned.
“You know, Nik hasn’t told me what’s going on.”
Tehya’s head lifted as she stared back at the other woman.
Mikayla gave a little shrug. “I don’t just love my husband, I know my husband. He gave me a nice little story to tell anyone if they asked about the dresses I was making for you, who you were, who Jordan was, the whole nine yards.” She waved her hand expressively. “Then this morning he gave me another story about someone close to you dying. He promised me when he retired from whatever it is he was doing, that there would be no more missions. Then he came to me and told me you were in trouble and he had to help. Whatever that trouble is, Tehya, I want you to know, I make a very good friend. And I know how to listen.”
Tehya glanced away, her throat tightening with the tears she had refused to allow herself to shed.
“I had hoped I was hiding things better,” she whispered,
“I doubt anyone but another woman who’s in love, and feared losing that love, would notice,” Mikayla stated. “We’ve only met a few times, but I’ve never looked into your eyes that I didn’t want to cry myself. The worst thing you can do is cry alone. So, if you need a friend.” She gave a little lift of her shoulder, an endearing gesture of a woman afraid of overstepping a boundary, but one whose compassion knew only one way.
“Thank you, Mikayla,” she answered softly. “And I won’t forget the offer.”
She would never forget it, but she knew there was little chance of being able to take her up on it. She couldn’t allow herself to ever be caught again. That meant disappearing again and learning to ignore the hunger to put down roots, to own anything, to have friends, family … or the lover her heart longed for.
“Good. Now, show my awesome dress off tonight and tell everyone how totally unique and expensive I am.” Mikayla flashed a warm smile as she moved to the bed, grabbed her oversized workbag, and headed for the door. “And don’t be a stranger.” She stopped after opening the door. “I’d like for us to be friends, Tehya.”
Tehya gave a quick nod as she battled her tears again. She hated crying. She hated being on the verge of crying because it still puffed up her eyes and her nose and made her look washed out.
Which, she imagined, would be good for the overall impression of grief.
Breathing out roughly, she moved closer to the mirror, pulled at several curls until they draped over her shoulder from the jewel-encrusted clasp that held a mass of curls at the top of her head, allowing them to fall haphazardly around her head, to mix and mingle with the heavy strands that hadn’t been pulled up.
Rather like a Grecian goddess, she thought, as her fingers trailed over the tiny sequins that ran along the bodice of the dress.
Glancing at the clock, she drew in a deep breath and searched for her courage. It was a trick her mother had taught her when she was very young.
She closed her eyes and imagined Jordan this time, rather than a bird flying free. His smile, the sound of those deep, amused chuckles, the way he touched her, the way he held her.
And she imagined his courage, just as her mother had taught her to imagine that bird’s courage when it first took flight. How high it went, and how brave it must be. And how it wouldn’t survive if it couldn’t fly.
If she didn’t fly, she couldn’t survive.
And now, if she didn’t have Jordan, if he didn’t live and breathe, then there was no way she could bear life herself.
She would face whatever came tonight. She had no choice but that, to ensure Jordan survived. He had been targeted because of her. Someone had tried to kill him, and now he had to pretend to be dead.
Because of her.
Because she hadn’t had the courage to run when she should have.
Because she hadn’t had the courage to disappear in a way that would ensure Jordan never found her either. Now, tonight, she had to find the courage not to run, to walk into that party and to dare whoever or whatever had haunted her all her life.
She had never done that. She had always run, because she had always seen what happened to the strong, confident, self-assured military-trained men who had done just that in their attempts to protect her and her mother.
Her hand jerked up, covered her mouth and her nose as a sudden sob nearly escaped, as she felt something inside her beginning to crack, attempting to escape.
A vicious shudder raced through her, nearly obliterating her ability to hold back a wave of fury and blinding pain.
Where the hell had it come from?
Her breathing was shaking, almost shuddering through her as she seemed to gasp for breath.
She blinked desperately, finally, mercifully gaining control and unable to understand exactly what had happened.
It terrified her, though.
The sense of panic, of impending doom grew stronger, and finding the strength to gather her courage enough to walk out of the room took everything she had, because every instinct she had was screaming at her to run. To hide. To ensure no one else died because of her.
She felt like a coward. Like that little girl who had begged her mother to just send her back to her father so no one else could ever be hurt again.
Her eyes closed.
She hadn’t remembered that, but now that event was so vivid in her mind, so fresh it might have happened only yesterday.
She remembered sobbing after she had learned Sister Mary was dead and how the Reverend Mother and sisters had died at the convent. Her mother hadn’t meant for her to know. Tehya had slipped out of bed and crept to the top of the stairs and listened to her and Matthew Thomas talking.
Her mother had been crying, blaming herself, and Matthew had been struggling to comfort her when he glanced up and saw Tehya.
For just a second, she had seen a look of resentment, of accusation in his gaze. He had blamed her for the danger her mother faced, and the deaths that had followed them.
Tehya had broken down then. She had screamed, sobbed, demanded her mother call Sorrel to come for her. Demanded that they let her return so everyone would be safe again.
In a way, she felt as though she were now coming full circle, even though he was dead.
And she knew it would explode around her tonight.
She just prayed. She prayed as she had never prayed in her life, that no one died.
As she finally pushed back that terror and gathered the frayed threads of her courage together, a quick knock at the door had her flinching so viciously her teeth jerked together.
She was a mess tonight, and she knew it.
Moving to the door, she paused. “Yes?” Caution weighed heavily on her shoulders now. The knowledge that so many were willing to risk their lives for her made her second-guess every move.
“It’s John, Tehya.”
She opened the door slowly until she stared back at the handsome form of one of the men she had worked with for the past six years.
Dressed in a black silk tux and startling white shirt, he looked both dangerous and charming. Dark blond hair fell over his brow as he watched her with somber concern.
“I believe I’m escorting you to the party,” he informed her with a quick smile.
She glanced behind him. “Where’s Bailey?”
His wife was normally right at his side.
“She’s waiting in the foyer just outside the ballroom with Kell and Emily,” he informed her. “I’ll escort you both in.”
“I guess I’m ready, then.” She knew her smile was tight, the tension radiating through her body not as well hidden as she would have liked.
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br /> It would lend weight to the illusion they were attempting to portray, though, she told herself as John held his elbow out to her.
Curving her fingers beneath his arm, she drew in a deep breath and turned with him to walk down the wide hall to the curved staircase that led to the foyer.
The dress whispered around her, sliding against her flesh and reminding her of Jordan’s touch even as the derringer strapped to her thigh reminded of the gift he had given her several Christmases ago. Extra protection, he’d told her with a small quirk of his lips.
“Everything’s in place,” John assured her as they neared the stairs. “We have all our bases covered.”
She nodded. She knew Jordan and his penchant for building in layers upon layers to his plans.
It wouldn’t matter.
The thought didn’t catch her off guard, though she would have preferred to escape it.
Still, it was the truth. It wouldn’t matter. Tonight the culmination of a lifetime of running, of a mother’s death and the destruction of friends and loved ones, would end here. One way or the other.
As they descended the stairs, she could feel the eyes on her. Dozens of guests were lingering in the foyer along with Bailey, Emily, Kell, and Senator Richard Stanton. She felt as though they were all staring at her, though she knew they weren’t. At least not overtly. Just as she knew that the malevolent gaze that made her skin crawl couldn’t possibly be in the foyer as well.
Still, she felt it, like a whisper of death over her flesh.
It was all she could do to keep moving forward, to hide the fear flashing through her from the man at her side.
“Okay?” John asked as they neared the marble entrance area.
“Fine,” she assured him. She would pretend. She had been pretending all her life, practicing for this night.
“Courage is facing your demons,” he whispered at her ear as they took those final steps. “We all feel it, Tey.”
She didn’t have a chance to argue the point. They stepped into the foyer and were immediately joined by Kell, Emily, Bailey, and the senator.
Bailey wore a deep emerald silk sheath cut high to the knee and revealing the chiffon confection of her slip. With her hair arranged into artful waves and emeralds glittering at her neck and ears, she looked sedately festive.
Emily’s rich sunlit dark blond hair was pulled back from her face to reveal her graceful neck and high cheekbones. Her black silk strapless gown smoothed over her more petite form and emphasized her breasts. Black silken lace covered the bodice and fell in dark shimmering waves to her feet over the silk, while hundreds of tiny crystals winked within the delicate cobweb design. Between the gown, the heels that added to her height, and her diamond-and-sapphire jewelry, she looked like a soft midnight star, while the compassion and concern in her gaze nearly had tears filling Tehya’s eyes again.
Both women had their own unique tastes that were excellently presented in their gowns, accessories, and kind demeanors.
Senator Richard Stanton, though nearing sixty, was still fit and handsome. The laugh lines at the corners of his blue eyes and the strength of his expression had drawn constituents to him for decades. Now, he was grooming his son-in-law for politics, and, Tehya knew, eventually taking his senatorial seat. It was the reason for the glamorous balls he’d been throwing for several months now. Allowing his backers, his business associates and friends, as well as other potentially powerful friends, to meet the former SEAL and, hopefully, decide to contribute to his run for office.
Kell would make a wonderful politician in some ways, she thought. He was a man who could command when needed and one who could lead effortlessly. He was also quite adept at seeing through the bullshit to the lies below and sidestepping them effectively.
“You look absolutely exquisite, my dear.” Richard bent and kissed her cheek fondly before enfolding her in a quick hug. A major gesture in an atmosphere where affection was normally hidden.
“Thank you, Senator,” she whispered, blinking again.
What the hell was wrong with her? Her stomach was trembling as though she had never faced danger before, as though this particular specter of evil hadn’t been shadowing her for her entire life.
“Are we ready to make our entrance, then?” he asked the small group quietly before lifting his gaze to survey the foyer. “Most of the guests who have arrived are already in the ballroom, and I’d like my daughter and son-in-law to greet them and begin tonight’s festivities.”
His gaze was eagle sharp as he glanced back down at her, then extended his elbow to her. “Would you like to accompany me, Tehya?”
Tehya managed a small smile. “I would love to accompany you, Senator Stanton.”
As they stepped into the ballroom, Tehya noticed the small amount of whispering. The rumors had already circulated that something had happened between her and her lover.
As they walked through the room, Bailey moved closer. “We just had a report from security that there was activity at the back gate,” the other woman murmured in her ear. “Stay alert.”
Tehya gave a small nod, very aware of the small derringer tucked into the specially designed garter belt that she wore around her thigh.
It wasn’t much, but at close range it could mean the difference between life and death. Between captivity or freedom.
It had happened too quickly though, she thought desperately. The party hadn’t even truly begun yet.
The band was still warming up in the center dais, the buffet tables were still fresh, and the men were lining up at the bar for drinks as champagne circled on trays carried by eager black-coated waiters.
The senator escorted her to one of the tables set up along the wall of balcony doors that led out to the gardens. The glass doors had been thrown wide, a gentle autumn breeze filling the brightly lit ballroom and whispering around the exquisite fabrics and gowns that filled it as conversation began to fill the cavernous room and the senator stepped up to the center dais with Kell and Emily following.
John, Bailey, Travis, and Lilly took their seats at the table with Tehya, their gazes seemingly inattentive, though Tehya knew better. She could see the signs of their suspicions, their careful regard of each and every guest.
“Ms. Johnson.” Despite appearances and her demeanor of being less than cautious, Tehya still gave a start as Stephen Taite, his son, Craig, daughter-in-law Lauren, his granddaughter, Journey Taite, and the quiet, darkly brooding Beauregard Grant, stood just behind John’s chair as he sat in a protective position. “I heard Mr. Malone’s left. I had hoped to speak to him for a moment. Will he be returning?”
That was the cover story, that Jordan had left, only those associated with the assassin would believe he was dead.
That wave of agonizing anger and pain washed through her again, cramping her stomach and tightening her face.
She could feel her lips trembling as she tried to come up with a smile, too aware of the sudden interest when she couldn’t control her response.
“I don’t think…” she cleared her throat as her voice roughened.
“Mr. Malone was called away unexpectedly.” John stood and turned, his tone cool, brooking no questions. “Ms. Johnson is understandably upset that business concerns have dictated her inability to follow along with him.”
She swallowed tightly.
“Tey?” Journey moved around John, ignoring the sudden frown on his face as he attempted to block her.
She merely gave him an irritated look as Tehya rose slowly to her feet.
So innocent, so ignorant of the pure evil they shared the world with.
“I’m fine, Journey,” she assured the other girl, almost wishing they could go back to the day when their biggest worry was the landscaping scheme for a difficult client. “Jordan’s departure has simply left me upset, I guess.”
Stephen sniffed at her response to Journey. “A man has to do his business.”
Arrogance filled his gaze; it was a natural landscape for his expres
sion. Her grandfather, as her mother had described him, was much different. Bernard had been openly generous, warm and compassionate, where his brother was more prone to hide his emotions beneath that cool exterior.
Francine Taite had dearly loved her uncle Stephen though, as well as her first cousin Craig. Though Craig, Francine had always stated, may have believed in his own arrogant facade.
But before her death, during the times Francine and Tehya had had together, Francine had seemed to live on her memories of her family and the laughter she had once shared with them.
“We’re not certain when he’ll be returning,” John answered for her. “I believe Tehya is actually considering joining him once her business concerns are taken care of here.”
Stephen’s hawk-like gaze swung back to her as a brooding frown centered his brows.
“You’re leaving?” Journey’s voice lowered until Tehya was nearly forced to read her lips instead. “I need to talk to you.”
With her eyes, she gestured as though trying to glance behind her.
To Beauregard Grant.
He stood tall, brooding, and watchful behind the other girl.
Tehya glanced back at John. “I need a moment with Journey.”
“Journey can wait…” Stephen began to protest.
“But I can’t, Mr. Taite,” she informed him.
Family or no family, she’d come too far in her life to ever bow down to his arrogance, or his sense of superiority. It was one of the things her mother had always seemed amused by, Stephen’s sense of self-worth.
“I believe Journey has a previous appointment with me.” There was a sense of desperation filling the younger girl’s gaze and Tehya stared at him coldly.
“I really don’t care.” Keeping her voice soft she looked at his hand, then back to John with cool demand.
“I’m sure it won’t take long.” John turned to Beauregard, his expression confident that the other man would heed the order in his gaze.
And he did.
Beauregard slowly released Journey’s arm, but not before he bent his head and whispered something in her ear.
Tehya watched as Journey seemed to pale, her gaze darkening in distress as her companion’s head lifted and he stepped back slowly.