DEADLY GAMES Jaycee Clark 1

by james

  Ian closed his eyes and Rori laid her hand on his, leaning over to whisper. “Relax.

  He’s difficult, but not that bad.”

  He jerked his head and looked at her.

  Jock cleared his throat again and said, “I’m getting Darya a gift.”

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  Ian didn’t say a word. Rori looked at him, squeezed his hand, then took the ball.

  “Thank you, Jock. What did you have in mind?”

  Jock shifted on the couch. “Well, I thought a doll at first, but … oh, by the way,

  she was up.”

  “What?” Ian asked.

  “Darya. I went upstairs to check on her and she was standing in the hallway. I

  coaxed her back to her room and read her a story.”

  He looked from Jock to his mother, whose brows rose.

  To Jock, Ian said, “You don’t speak Russian.”

  Jock shrugged. “She didn’t seem to mind.”

  Ian stood. “I’ll go check on her.”

  Jock waved him back down. “She’s fine. Went to sleep before the end.”

  He looked to the door, he should probably go check on her.

  “I left the door cracked,” Jock said.

  Ian looked back at his father, shoved his hands in his pockets and remembered

  times when Jock had read him and Aiden stories of Celtic warriors…. Roman centurions.

  History lessons and bedtime all rolled into one.

  Taking another deep breath, he sat back down.

  Kaitlyn cleared her throat and set her coffee cup in it’s saucer with a faint clink.

  “What did you read her?”

  Jock shifted again, then muttered. “Sleeping Beauty.”

  Rori chuckled. “All this time I was trying to decide if you were just an ass or an

  oaf, but you’re all bark and no bite, Mr. Kinncaid.” She chuckled, then looking at him,

  said, “Did she like it?”

  Jock studied her for one long moment. Ian couldn’t believe she’d said that.

  “Don’t blame you there, Rori,” Jock said. Then his eyes shifted to Ian. “We need

  to talk.”

  “Those words make me cringe.”

  Rori punched his arm.

  “In a bit, or tomorrow,” his mother said. Her head tilted and looked at him. “Why

  did your car explode?”

  “Mom, always straight to the point.” To lie or.… “It’s being handled.”

  Her eyes hardened. She opened her mouth. Jock sat forward. “Your car exploded.

  Someone was shooting at you and all you can say is, ‘it’s being handled’?” Jock took a

  deep breath and blew it out through his mouth, shaking his head. “We thought you were

  dead, boy. Do you have any idea….” He blew a breath out again and raked a hand over

  his white hair.

  Darya….

  Ian closed his eyes, licked his lips and stood. When he’d come to, it had

  thankfully been to Roth, and Ian had immediately come up swinging. He always reacted

  that way when coming too. Never a healthy thing more than one medic and nurse had

  discovered. Darya had been crying, her wails slicing through his brain, and Rori was still

  lying over her.

  God.

  He rubbed his hands over his face. “Yes. Believe me, I know what went through

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  your minds.” Walking to the windows he said, “I can’t talk about it. Not all of it.”

  “What do you do?” his mother asked.

  He chuckled and reached for his cigarettes. The breast pocket was empty.

  “You’re quitting,” Rori reminded him.

  Damn woman could read him like no one else.

  “No one thing, Mother. Anything I’m told to do, go where they send me and that’s

  about all I can say,” he finally said looking out into the night. Nothing moved, and the

  moon wasn’t even half yet. To hell with it. “I’ve been undercover for the last five years.

  And two weeks ago someone killed the man I was working for and blew my cover.”

  He waited. No one said a word.

  “There’s a leak and they’re trying to find out whom.”

  “And if they don’t?” Jock asked.

  Ian ignored the question, or tried to. Looking over his shoulder he studied his

  parents both watching him with intense expressions, questions and worry in their eyes.

  Rori on the other hand was eating another cookie

  If the mole wasn’t found? He’d leave. He had to. He’d gambled thinking they’d

  use his family anyway, but it was clear to him now they were after him. Of course if they

  couldn’t find him, who knew what they’d do to draw him out.

  “Did you know about this?” his mother asked her.

  “What he does?” Rori nodded. “Yes.”

  “And it doesn’t bother you?”

  Rori slowly grinned. Looking from his mother, then to him, her green witch’s eyes

  twinkling, she shook her head. “I’d be … lying if I said it did. He is who he is.”

  “And just who the hell is he?” Jock asked.

  Rori tilted her head, the line of her neck lengthening. He didn’t want to be here.

  He wanted to be upstairs making love to her, kissing her pulse in that little shadow of her

  jaw.

  “He’s someone who risks it all for those he loves. I thought you, as his father,

  would have known that, Mr. Kinncaid.”

  Ian opened his mouth to tell her that was enough.

  A scream pierced the air.

  Darya.

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  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Ian tore out the door, Rori right behind him. He jerked his gun free of the holster

  as the screams kept on and then abruptly stopped.

  He raced up the stairs, heard people behind him and ran down the corridor.

  Let her be all right He should have come up here himself. He turned the corner.

  He should have…

  He all but flew into the room, his gun held down near his thigh as he flipped the

  lights on.

  The room was empty.

  His heart slammed in his chest. Think. Pain beat behind his eyes. Think.

  “She’s here somewhere,” Rori said.

  He lifted his head and shot her one look. She stepped back, hands out and he

  noticed she too held her gun.

  Tanner and Roth both stood in the doorway. Roth stepped forward and looked at

  the balcony doors. “They’re still locked.” Roth frowned and jerked them open, looking

  out onto the balcony.

  “Darya?” Ian said. “Darya!”

  He checked the bathroom. Rori looked under the little bed. Nothing.

  He took another deep breath. No way could they have gotten to her.

  He could see Brayden in the hallway and heard Tanner talking to him. He shoved

  a hand through his hair, the Czech curse falling off his tongue as easily as English.

  Rori stood and shook her head. “She’s not under there.”

  “The bear’s missing,” Jock said.

  Ian looked to his father, then back to the bed.

  His brain flashed images over each other.

  Empty beds. Beds of whores. Beds of young girls. Girls trying to breathe. Darya

  hiding … Empty beds.

  He shook his head and focused.

  The bear wasn’t there. Which means she took it with her.

  Rori strode to the closet and pulled the door open saying, “We’ll find her.” She

  looked over her shoulder at him. “Ian. You check the bathroom. We found her before.

  And this is a bloody mansion. Talk about hide and freaking seek.”

  He went
back to the bathroom, checked the tub, the shower stall, under the sink,

  the middle linen closet He noticed his hands trembled. God.

  He jerked open the bottom double doors of the linen cabinet.

  And there she was curled up atop the extra towels. Her eyes staring sightless, her

  thumb in her mouth.

  Ian sat on the floor, relief flooding through him more than even the first time he’d

  found her. He shook his head and reached out. His heart fluttered and beat like a

  floundering bird against his chest.

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  Horrors so real, from sleep they chased one so small to hide.

  Some parents told their children monsters weren’t real.

  Darya knew monsters existed, thundering and slinking through the darkness to

  prey on children.

  “Oh, baby girl” He eased his hands under her and pulled her out, several towels

  following her and tumbling to the floor. He tucked her in his lap. As before she was

  clammy, limp.

  He put her head on his shoulder and rocked her, shaking his head.

  “If it’s the last thing I ever do,” he said softly to her in English, “I swear on all I

  hold dear I will find each and everyone and kill them.” He didn’t look up when he felt

  someone behind him. Didn’t turn around, just rocked the little girl in his arms. “You’re

  safe. I promise I’ll always keep you safe.”

  His heart hurt. He wanted to make it better for her, take all the pain away, but he

  didn’t know how, and he knew he never really could. Not completely. Not like he wanted

  to.

  At least she hadn’t been raped, but what had happened to her? Those black

  thoughts pushed the rage through him faster and harder.

  She tensed in his arms and still he rocked her. Finally, she pushed back from him

  and looked up. Those big round blue eyes, her curly hair a riot around her face. Confusion

  shifted as she blinked and glanced around.

  “You had a bad dream, do you remember?” he asked her in Russian.

  She frowned, then nodded.

  “Do you remember getting out of bed and hiding?” he asked.

  The lines between her little black brows grew. Then she shook her head.

  Wanting to lighten the mood, he took a deep breath and said, “Yes, well,

  apparently, you decided to play hide and seek in your sleep. You just about gave me a

  heart attack, Pumpkin.” Still holding her to him, he stood.

  Ian kept her clasped against him and met his father’s eyes. Rori stood there, with

  that look of compassion in her eyes that he’d seen in fleeting moments. Like she knew….

  Jock moved out of the doorway as Ian stepped through. His mom stood to the side

  and opened her mouth to say something, but Jock put his hand on her shoulder.

  Good. The last thing he wanted was questions, because right now, he might not

  keep his mouth shut about things he needed to keep his mouth shut about.

  Ian gently laid her on the bed, her eyes still clouded with fear, but heavy with

  sleep. He saw the book on the nightstand and picked it up.

  “You want to read this one?” She tucked the blankets under her arms and nodded,

  sniffing.He reached out and wiped at a tear track with his thumb.

  He didn’t look as the others walked out, didn’t turn to see if Rori stayed. He felt

  her. Ian opened the book and wondered if they’d always had it. Jock was a bit of a

  bibliophile. He might have collected it through the years. Not exactly the normal

  children’s book.

  Ian shook his head, read the words, then transcribed them into Russian for his

  daughter.

  As he read he realized this was what he wanted. Things he’d never allowed

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  himself to even hope for.

  He looked over his shoulder to see Rori putting the towels back in the cupboard.

  Ian kept reading.

  Bedtime stories to a little girl who could easily pass as his, a wife that understood

  where he came from, why he often reacted the way he did and accepted him anyway.

  He shook his head. It was all just a ruse. A ruse until they learnt who Darya really

  was, who she belonged to and if she needed to go back.

  Rori?

  Time would tell on that.

  For now, he had a death to fake--no Dimitri Petrolov did--and a mole to find.

  He felt something on his hand he had rested beside Darya. Her small one lay atop

  his as he read.

  Something in him settled and smiled.

  Tomorrow, he’d look again. If no yellow notices had still shown up. If no reports

  in the data bases matched Darya’s description, then screw it. The papers said she was his.

  And that would be the end of it. He’d made certain that the documents both for his

  marriage and the adoption of one Darya was in his legal name. As was Rori’s.

  He wondered if she’d even thought of it yet.

  Somehow he didn’t think so.

  He kept reading and then realized Darya was back asleep. He gently closed the

  book and watched her sleep. He felt Rori’s hands on his shoulders.

  “We need to get one of those baby things.”

  He frowned and looked up at her.

  “You know,” she whispered. “Transmitters. We can hear her. Forget the cutesy

  ones. Don’t you have any in your bag of tricks we managed to get out of the car?”

  He grinned. “Yeah. We do.”

  Her brows rose. “It’s late. I told your parents to go to bed. Why don’t you stick

  one in here and then come to bed?” She continued to rub his shoulders.

  He took a deep breath and nodded, rising and wondering why he hadn’t thought of

  that sooner.

  * * * *

  Rori washed the shampoo out of her eyes, the hot water stinging her back where

  whatever the hell it was, had landed. She was bruised and sore and had an eight inch long

  burn down the middle of her back. At least it hadn’t been Darya.

  The stall door opened and she grinned.

  He was really magnificent naked. Long lean lines of him, all hardened muscle. His

  chest had a swath of dark hair across the front, and a scar … several scars, she amended,

  wondering how he’d come by them. This was the first time she’d seen him in full light,

  she realized. Long fingered hands that could kill as easily as most men signed their

  names, she knew could also be as caressing as a gentle breeze.

  A man so in control, he was practically frozen. The more enraged, the softer,

  cooler he became.

  She wanted him to lose that control.

  And right now, he looked tired. No, more … weary, a headache in his eyes.

  She took a deep breath. “I’d ask you to wash my back, but it’s a bit sore yet.”

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  He stepped in, pulled the door close and said, “Turn around.”

  Her stomach fluttered. Bloody stupid is what it was.

  She turned and gave him her back. He didn’t touch her, but she could feel his eyes

  on her. Knew he was looking down her as she had him.

  “You have a beautifully sexy back,” he said and she felt his fingers graze around

  the edges of the bruise and burn. “Why did you take the bandage off?”

  “Don’t care for them.” She started to turn back around to him, but he put his

  hands on her hips and kissed the curve of her neck between her shoulder and jaw. “I’ve

  wanted
to kiss your neck all damn evening. I’d look across the room at you and think, I

  don’t want all this to be going on. I wanted to be up here with you. Kissing you right

  here.” He nudged her chin up and kissed just beneath the side of her jaw.

  This man could make her feel.

  She turned in his arms, leaning up she kissed him. “I want to make you feel

  better,” she heard herself whisper. Not knowing where it came from, but knowing it was

  the truth. This would never last, but she would damn well enjoy the ride.

  Water poured over his face as her mouth met his, the water sluicing over the both

  of them. She kissed him, nipped his lips and when he reached for her, she locked his

  wrists in her hands. Of course, he could get out of he wanted to.

  “What game are you playing?” he asked her softly.

  She started to be cheeky, but kissed him again, saying against his mouth, looking

  into his eyes, “No, game, Ian.”

  Rori kissed him with all that was in her. He saved everyone else, worried about

  everyone else, made certain they were all safe.

  Who saved him?

  The thought all but pierced her heart.

  She leaned into him and rubbed her breasts against his chest, until he pulled out

  the kiss staring at her, his nostrils flaring. “I want to touch you.”

  She slowly shook her head. “No.”

  Then she stepped closer and rubbed her enter body against him. Her groin cradling

  his, his friction against her.

  There was a tiled bench in the shower big enough to wash four people.

  She nudged him backwards, and without looking he stepped back until his knees

  hit the bench.

  “I put the transmitter in Darya’s room,” he said as he sat down, his hands on her

  hips again, pulling her to him.

  “I would assume so, yes. I’d never distract you otherwise.” She ran her hands over

  his much shorter hair and wished that she’d been able to run her fingers through his long

  locks as he’d been Dimitri.

  She leaned over and cut another faucet on, this one raining down directly from

  little showerheads all lined along one pipe directly above their heads. Rain showered

  down on them.

  Ian looked at her. Not smiling, not frowning, the deep lines bracketing his mouth.

  She ran her hands over his chest. Stopping near his right nipple. “How’d you get