by Debra Webb
…he’s an infiltrator. He can get in and out of places no one else can.
Right now, Kate hoped with all her heart that Raine really was the best in the business.
RAINE HAD ONLY to wait until the perimeter guard made his rounds. Twice an hour, one guard walked the grounds inside the security fence and another outside. The one outside could always be counted on to be the newest and probably the youngest member of the security staff. He would be considered the most expendable, and walking outside the fence certainly represented the greatest risk to surviving night shift.
While he waited he considered the chance he had taken bringing Kate along. But he couldn’t leave her as he had planned. Though it pained him to believe that she might be working for the enemy, he had to trust his instincts. Instinct told him not to risk her alerting anyone to his plans. Outside locking her up or killing her—and he could not do either—he’d had no choice but to bring her. He never took that kind of risk—he wouldn’t now. No matter that some small foolish part of him wanted to take Kate and run. Leave it all behind. Disappear where no one would ever find them. Raine silently laughed at himself. Great plan. The only problem was, what happened when she got her memory back?
Before Raine could consider the answer to that question, the guard stopped to check the side gate. Raine pressed the barrel of his Beretta against the man’s temple and stepped out of the shadows. “Take me to the old man,” he said quietly.
The guard tensed. Raine could imagine the man’s short life was passing before his eyes at that precise moment. “I can’t do that,” he replied in a clipped tone. “You could blow my head off for all they care, man, and they still wouldn’t let you in.”
Raine clenched his jaw, then forced himself to relax. “Just tell them Jack Raine is here to see Mr. Ballatore.”
A few minutes later Raine stood in Sal Ballatore’s private study. No one had roughed him up as he had fully expected. The head of security had thoroughly searched him, however, and taken his Beretta, but other than that, things had gone rather smoothly. Raine was alone now. Four men waited outside the closed doors to do Ballatore’s bidding. There would be others somewhere inside and at least two still patrolling the grounds. There was always a minimum of eight men on duty. The old man had grown a bit paranoid in his twilight years.
Of course, in this business, operating a crime syndicate in a city the size of New York, it paid to be a little on the paranoid side.
A sense of déjà vu shrouded Raine with memories of another night much like this one. The night he’d had to pass Ballatore’s personal inspection. As sharp as the old man was, he had accepted Raine almost without question. But that was what he did best, Raine reminded himself. He made people trust him. At one time that particular skill had meant a great deal to him. Now it only disgusted him.
Raine turned at the sound of the opening door. He felt the muscle in his jaw jump when his gaze met Ballatore’s. The loss of his only son evidenced itself in every line on his face, but the eyes were the worst. Those gray eyes no longer held the spark of life, or the power that had once radiated from their world-wise depths. They were empty. Regret, unbidden, trickled through Raine. He had experienced remorse over few things in his life, but he truly regretted the senseless death of Michael Ballatore.
Sal Ballatore, clad in silk pajamas and matching robe, crossed the room to stand directly in front of Raine. He held Raine’s weapon in his right hand.
“Dillon and my men have been searching for you for quite some time now.” He lifted one gray eyebrow a fraction higher than the other. “How is it that in all this time they could not find you, yet you waltz into my home in the middle of the night of your own free will?”
“I didn’t come here to discuss the lack of skill possessed by the men you employ,” Raine told him, careful to keep his tone as unrevealing as his gaze. “I was told that you wanted to ask me a question. I’ve driven all night for this little tête-à-tête, so let’s get on with it.”
“You never were one to waste time on idle chitchat,” Ballatore noted aloud, then focused his attention on the weapon in his hand. “Before I end your worthless life, I would like you to tell me why you killed my son.” The old man’s voice wavered slightly when he continued. “Michael was a good boy, and he did not deserve to die by your hand, Jack Raine.” He lifted his gaze back to Raine, something primal shifted in those lackluster eyes.
Vengeance. Raine recognized and understood the desire for vengeance that suddenly filled that empty gaze.
“I despise killing.” Ballatore grimaced. “It’s so messy, especially when you shoot a man in the head with a weapon like this at close range.” He glanced around the elegant study then. “But Michael was born in this room.” He smiled, remembering. “His mother waited too long before she told me it was time to go. So my son took his first breath right here in this study. And you—” his gaze lit on Raine once more “—will take your last here.”
“I did not kill Michael,” Raine offered quietly, firmly.
Contempt stole across Ballatore’s grief-stricken features. “You are a liar,” he spat. “I know who you are, Jack Raine, and you killed my son. You and that bastard government you work for!”
“Dillon killed Michael for the money,” Raine countered.
“You took the money. Danny and Vinny have attested to that fact.” Rage darkened his cheeks. “My money.”
“I took the money only to keep Dillon from taking it.” Raine opened his hand and held out a small brass key. “It’s in a locker at the Port Authority bus terminal.”
Ballatore slapped away the key with the back of his hand. “You think you can come here and buy redemption with my own money?”
Raine allowed his hand to drop to his side. “I don’t need your absolution, old man, I didn’t kill your son. I only came here to set the record straight.”
“You came here all those months ago,” Ballatore growled, “to destroy my family. You ingratiated yourself into this household and then you destroyed my only flesh and blood.” His body trembled with the rage Raine could see building in his eyes. “You were like a second son to me. I trusted you with my life—with Michael’s life.” Ballatore shook his head slowly from side to side. “First you betrayed my trust, then you killed my son.”
“I came here for you, old man, not your son,” Raine said pointedly. “The organization that hired me had no interest in Michael. Dillon killed your son. Somehow Dillon found out who I was and used that knowledge as an opportunity to make himself a couple million and to get rid of me at the same time.” Raine leaned closer to the shorter man. “Think about it. With Michael and me out of the way, that puts Dillon at the top of the food chain.”
Ballatore considered Raine’s words for several long, tense moments before he spoke. “Why should I believe what you say?” His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized Raine’s face for the truth in the response he was about to give.
“I could have taken your money and disappeared.” Raine held his gaze. “And, trust me, you and your men would never have found me.”
“You don’t want my money and you didn’t kill my son, so why are you here?” Though some of his conviction had dissolved, sarcasm still weighted Ballatore’s tone.
“I want Dillon. He has information that I need.”
Realization dawned in the aged gray eyes. “You want to know who sold you out?”
“That’s right,” Raine agreed.
Ballatore snorted his disbelief. “What does it matter? Your cover is blown for this operation. Why do you care?”
“I can’t walk away knowing that someone might be selling out others like me.”
The old man nodded then. “Ah, I see. You think I give one damn what happens to the others like you?”
“No, but I’m sure you want to punish the man who killed your son.”
“And you want me to believe that it wasn’t you?” He smirked. “Again I ask, why should I believe you?”
“Because I’m tellin
g the truth.”
Ballatore regarded Raine warily for another beat or two. His expression slowly relaxed, as did his posture, and finally he spoke again. “What do you want from me?”
“I want Dillon,” Raine said simply.
The older man’s chin went up a notch, unaccustomed to acquiescing to anyone’s demands. “You ask a great deal for a man whose life means nothing to me, and who has less than nothing to offer in return.”
Raine mentally acknowledged his new standing with Ballatore. He hadn’t come here tonight to make amends. He’d come, Raine reiterated silently, to set things straight with the old man and to set up Dillon. “You asked what I wanted, that’s what I want,” he replied.
Ballatore lifted his silk-covered shoulders and then dropped them in a careless shrug. “That could be arranged.”
A new surge of adrenaline rushed through Raine, anticipation of the hunt. “You keep this meeting quiet for the next twenty-four hours. I’ll call in a location for you to pass along to Dillon. Tell him I’ve asked for a meet to explain what really happened. When he comes for me, I’ll be ready.”
The old man’s gaze locked with Raine’s once more. “There are two conditions.”
Raine’s tension escalated to a new level.
“When you have extracted your information, Dillon is mine.” He paused long enough for Raine to absorb the impact of the statement. “And, you tell your people that the next man they send for me will die a slow and painful death. Salvador Ballatore doesn’t make the same mistake twice.”
Raine nodded, then extended his open hand. “Done.”
Ballatore placed the butt of the Beretta into Raine’s palm. “Good. Maria will be glad.” He gave a short, wry chuckle. “There will be no mess for her to clean up in here tomorrow.”
His relief near-palpable, Raine tucked the Beretta into his waistband at the small of his back. “I’ll contact you in the next twenty-four hours.” He gave Ballatore one final glance, then strode toward the door.
“One more thing.” The voice of the man who still held Raine’s life in his hands echoed across the room.
Raine paused at the door and turned back to face him.
“Find a new line of work, Jack Raine. This one will get you killed.”
Chapter Eleven
Kate sat in the near darkness of the hotel room and watched Raine sleep. It was the first time she had actually seen the man with his guard down completely. She remembered thinking that maybe he was a machine and didn’t have such basic needs as sleep. She smiled and hugged the cool sheet more tightly around her naked body. She definitely knew better now. Raine was all too human. He had needs. Needs so strong they were almost frightening. Like her own. She shivered at the thought of how important he had become to her in the last few days. More important to her than remembering the truth about who she was and why she had been sent to find him.
When Raine had returned to the truck, alive and unharmed, from his meeting with Ballatore, Kate had been beside herself with relief. She had no idea if in her past life she’d been a spiritual person or even attended church, but she had thanked God over and over the moment Raine had appeared out of the darkness.
Raine hadn’t given any details about the meeting, only that everything was set. Whatever that meant. Then he had driven straight to a hotel in Manhattan, checked into a room and dragged her into bed before she could so much as get a good look at the place. Like the first time, their lovemaking had been hot and frantic, neither of them taking the time to undress, only pulling down or pushing aside the absolute essentials.
Kate had sensed his desperation, the same desperation she felt even now, that this might be the last time they were together. The unrestrainable instinct to celebrate life and survival when mortality threatened. She could have resisted and he would have stopped, but she hadn’t. Instead, she’d urged him on with her own frenzied response.
Afterward Raine seemed to regret that he had taken her so crudely, with no pretty words or proper foreplay. As if to make up for his actions, he’d gently removed her disheveled clothing, then carried her to the bathroom, where they had showered together. Slowly, chastely, he had washed every square inch of her body. Later, when he’d tenderly tucked her into the wide, inviting bed, Kate had given in to the exhaustion almost immediately.
Surprised at finding Raine asleep when she had awakened, Kate had pulled the sheet around her and moved to a chair so she could watch him. Dawn was still hours away, but the soft glow of light from the bathroom filtered through the room’s darkness and caressed his bare chest. The ivory brocade coverlet concealed his lower body, leaving the rest for her admiration. His strong arms were flung over his head and draped across the pillow. Kate’s gaze slid over his handsome profile and down his tanned throat, across his muscled chest, and then down the lean terrain of his stomach. His navel peeked above the edge of the rich cloth.
Kate’s insides warmed from just looking at him. She had no memory of making love before Raine, but she could not imagine anyone else making her feel quite the way he did.
But they had no future together. Though she still didn’t know all the details, Kate knew enough to be certain about where she would stand when Raine discovered the truth. Would the man, who had made love to her only a few short hours ago, kill her when he found out she had been sent to find him? To bring him in?
As she scanned his beautifully sculpted body once more, she decided that in repose he looked almost vulnerable. But Jack Raine was anything but vulnerable.
Dangerous. A man who lived by a different set of rules.
“See anything you like?”
Kate’s breath caught when her errant gaze collided with eyes so blue and piercing they seemed to reach past her defenses and touch a place no one else could. Longing welled inside her, shoving away all other thoughts.
She managed a smile despite the blood roaring in her ears and the tremble of her lips. “I see a good many things I like,” she told him.
Raine threw back the cover and stood in one fluid motion. Kate’s heart lurched when he moved toward her. His body was already, or still, semi-aroused. She shivered when she considered the mild discomfort associated with his size. He was a big man, his body strong and powerful. In the brief moments required for Raine to take the three steps separating them, her body moistened in anticipation of the desire evidencing itself in his.
Raine crouched in front of her and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was lingering, undemanding. Kate’s fingers found their way into his tousled blond hair and she urged him closer. With her movement, the sheet fell away from her shoulders, freeing her breasts so that her nipples grazed his bare chest. Desire stung her core and Kate moaned low in her throat, the sound echoed between them, intensifying her need.
He broke the kiss, pulling back despite her groan of protest. Kate frowned her frustration that their lips were no longer touching. He smiled, the expression wicked and insanely sexy. “This time’s going to be different,” he assured her. His deep, sensual tone raised goose bumps on Kate’s skin.
Raine stood and offered his hand. When she placed her hand in his and rose, the sheet slid down her body to puddle around her ankles. His gaze followed that same route, leaving a fission of heat wherever it lingered. Kate stepped into his open arms and he pulled her against him, maintaining the contact of their bodies as he eased her down onto the bed.
“This time,” he said, pausing to place a kiss along her throat between each word, “we’re going to do this right.” When he reached her collarbone, he lifted his head to smile down at her and repeated, “So right.”
The utter sweetness of that smile touched a place deep inside her. Kate closed her eyes and absorbed the impact to her heart. She loved this man. There was no denying it now. Whether they were enemies or not, whether she lived or died come sunrise, she loved Jack Raine. No matter who she was or what he had done in the past, nothing could change how she felt.
Not even a husband.
Ho
ney, it’s Nick.
Kate tensed, her eyes flew open. That man’s voice. The one who had answered when she’d called the number…he’d called her honey. What if she did have a husband, children?
“What’s wrong?”
Only when he spoke did Kate become aware that the tantalizing movement of his lips on her skin had stopped. She blinked rapidly to mask the fear of uncertainty in her eyes as he moved back up to lie alongside her. He propped on one elbow and swept a wisp of hair back from her cheek with his fingertips.
“What’s wrong?” he repeated.
Kate forced her lips into a tremulous smile, but quickly averted her eyes from the ones examining her so closely. She focused on his broad chest. “I’m fine,” she said, then struggled for something else to say when he remained silent, waiting. Her attention suddenly lit on one of the thin, jagged lines marring his tanned flesh. “I…was just wondering how you got these scars.”
He chuckled, a short, breathy sound, then pressed a kiss to her temple. “Talking isn’t exactly what I had on my mind, but if that’s what you want to do…” His words trailed off as he captured her gaze, his own full of mischief but still hot with desire. “A few of those hundred men someone told you I’d killed didn’t go down without a fight,” he teased.
Kate felt suddenly helpless when faced with the reality that he had likely skated close to death numerous times. Her pulse quickened at the thought, panic tightened her chest. “What you do—” with the tip of her finger she traced one pale pattern that angled downward just beneath his right nipple “—is it always this dangerous?” Kate held her breath as she waited for the answer she already knew.
“Yes.” There was no humor in his tone now.