Irresistible Deceptions

by Mackenzie Crowne

  “Four boys?” Nicky shuddered. “Dear Lord. Your poor mother.”

  Rhy’s bark of laughter bumped her head against his shoulder. He rolled his head to look at her. “If you knew my mother, you’d understand. Brian used to call her The Mominator. She takes no prisoners.”

  The smile dimmed on her lips at the mention of his brother. “I never told you how sorry I was about Brian.”

  He rolled his head back and stared at the ceiling. “He loved being in the military. I still miss him like hell, but knowing he died doing what he loved helps.”

  Nicky nodded against his shoulder. “Dad loved it, too.

  “You were close?”

  “He was my rock.” She tiptoed her fingers over the raised veins on his forearm. “My mother died when I was ten, so it was just the two of us for a long time. He was so happy and proud when I married Jonathan and devastated when we learned the truth about him. Dad blamed himself for pushing us together.”

  Rhy grunted. “Jonathan fooled a lot of people.” Himself included, and having made love to her without admitting he, too, had fallen for Everson’s lies clawed at the festering wound of guilt he hadn’t quite managed to put on hold as he’d planned.

  “Yes, he did.” Her fingers stilled on his arm. “Dad hated the thought of Jonathan getting away with…everything.”

  He raised his head to meet her gaze. The hesitation had been slight, but it was there. She didn’t look away from the question in his eyes, but she didn’t expand, either.

  A shallow sigh lifted her chest. “The situation was complicated, but ultimately I just wanted to be free of him. Dad made that possible. He held Jonathan at bay, and though I was in hiding, we saw each other whenever we could.” A flash of anger followed the sadness dimming her eyes. “He needs to pay, Rhy.”

  He levered up so her head rested in the crook of his arm. “We’ll get him. I promise.”

  As if mentally shaking away the gloomy subject, she nodded. “I thought you were from Atlanta.”

  Rhy sifted his fingers through her hair, spreading the long, silky strands out on her pillow. Evidence he hadn’t been as sated as he thought swelled and nudged her hip.

  “I grew up in Atlanta and settled in DC when I left the service and started Global Shield. My brother, Garrett, followed in Dad’s footsteps and ended up in the DC office of the FBI. Mom accepted the position in DC about the time my youngest brother, Jake, went off to med school. Dad was already spending half his time in the capital, and with three of their boys living there, it made sense for them to make the move. My brothers and I had a pool going on how long Mom would hold out until she packed up and followed us.” He laughed. “She never could stand to be out of the loop.”

  Nicky smiled, easy and happy. “You love her.”

  “Yeah.” Grinning, he brushed the backs of his knuckles over her jawline and down her neck to her collarbone. “It’s hard not to. Even when she’s nosing her way into your business, she does so with such style you can’t help but appreciate her interference.”

  It pleased him to note the goose bumps breaking out on her skin, thanks to his exploring fingers.

  She cleared her throat. “She sounds fun.”

  Rhy trailed his fingertips down her chest until he cupped a breast. Her nipple reacted immediately, puckering into a tight bud. His smile grew wicked, and he dipped his head to investigate. “Do you really want to talk about my mother?”

  A slight gasp sawed through her teeth. “No. Not really.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Through the bedroom window, Nicky scanned the thick forest beyond the snow-covered yard and pressed a hand to her belly. They’d been at the cabin for nearly thirty-six hours, and the waiting was becoming unbearable. If Jonathan didn’t appear soon, she was going to do something drastic.

  The only bright spot was the time she’d been given with Rhy, as she’d taken to calling him. Sometimes. Those occasions she referred to him as McLean inevitably landed her beneath him. A win-win situation she sought out as often as possible.

  Ever alert to her mood, he seemed to sense each time her tension built to the breaking point, and his solution was to drown her in sensual pleasure until her mind knew nothing but him. She had to admit, as bright spots went, Rhy McLean was a supernova. His sensuality was brash and earthy and revealed a matching carnality within her. With Rhy, she was free to be bold and natural, two unexpected traits she happily embraced.

  She shivered and turned to make the bed.

  Until Rhy, she hadn’t known she could be so physically comfortable with a man. With Jonathan, that certainly hadn’t been the case. Then again, not knowing if you would survive more than a few more days had a way of freeing up inhibitions. However, she didn’t attribute her awakened sensuality to impending danger. She laid the blame—or accolades—squarely on Rhy’s broad shoulders. He’d barreled into her life and made her fall in love with him.

  Nicky stilled, her fingers clenching one of the pillows, and she hugged it to her chest. Rhy’s feelings were a little more difficult to decipher. Despite the intimacy they’d shared, first and foremost, there was the mission. At times, she caught him watching her with a cold intensity that alarmed her, but there was no disguising the pleasure and easy affection in his eyes when the job fell away and it was just the two of them.

  Still, she never forgot the reason he was with her. Apparently, neither did he. The radio he kept close at hand to check in with Tim every hour was a brutal reminder of the dangerous game they played. The painful memories Rhy had shared with her that first day exposed just how strongly he took his responsibilities. While she detested his ex-wife’s use of their daughter against him, she wasn’t completely unsympathetic to the woman’s plight. What must it have been like for the woman, coming in second to his sense of honor and commitment to his team and clients?

  For Rhy, the job came first, and like his ex, Nicky feared for his safety. Though she’d argued the plan was too risky, Rhy insisted he be the one to take Jonathan down while his team neutralized any muscle he brought along. Considering Rhy’s love for his brother, she understood his reasoning, but the plan worried her. So much could go wrong.

  With a sigh, she dropped the pillow beside its mate and smoothed the quilt into place. As nervous as she was at the idea of seeing Jonathan again, and at Rhy facing him without his team at his side, each passing hour left her more and more antsy until she was about to come out of her skin. At this point, she barely cared how the situation resolved itself, as long as it did soon.

  Okay, that was a big fat lie. She’d pinned all her hopes on this crazy plan working. Hope that both she and Rhy would survive. That once this was over, Jonathan would never again be a threat. That she would finally be free to build a normal life for Alex, and that the irresistible pull between her and Rhy was more than just a case of “any port in the storm.”

  Her heart soundly rejected the possibility. For five long years, she’d believed herself incapable of ever falling in love again. With his sexy charm, strength of character, and keen sense of justice, Rhy had proved her wrong, and as if she hovered between past and future, she chafed at the delay in claiming the life she hadn’t thought possible until he’d burst onto the scene.

  “Nicky?” Rhy called from somewhere downstairs.

  “Up here.” She straightened and grasped the handle of his black duffel shoved halfway under the bed. The bag didn’t budge, despite her gentle tug. Dropping to her knees, she leaned down to discover the tab on a side compartment zipper had somehow become wedged between the frame and box spring.

  The bottom step creaked, telling her Rhy was on his way. She smirked. So much for making the bed. If the last thirty-six hours was any indication, straightening the sheets had been a wasted effort. They’d be twisted again in a few minutes.

  Grinning, she used her shoulder to lift the mattress. As she freed the zipper tab, a sheaf of papers slid from the opened compartment and scattered on the floor. She shoved the bag to the side, gather
ed the pages, and rose to her feet. She turned at Rhy’s approaching footsteps—and froze as her gaze swept over the handwritten top page.

  You were right. The documents Everson produced to send you after Nicky were bogus.

  The papers crinkled in her clenching fingers, and her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Horror and fear clawed at her airway as she continued to read.

  I’ve attached Everson Plastics’ financial reports for the three years surrounding her supposed embezzlement. Nothing shows up. Likewise, Everson never reported a theft to the DOJ or any local departments, and the arrest warrant is a forgery. The judge whose name appears on the order confirmed the signature isn’t his. He’s pissed, by the way, and expects your call.

  I spoke to your brother. The FBI added Everson to their most-wanted list this morning, and the team and I leave for Flagstaff in an hour. The asshole doesn’t stand a chance. Brian will be avenged.

  Tim

  P.S. She’s innocent, buddy. Crash and burn. Wouldn’t want to be in your shoes when she finds out.

  Nicky gulped in air. Embezzlement? Arrest warrant? Neither reference made sense, but they didn’t matter. She couldn’t get past the first line. Jonathan had sent Rhy after her? She swallowed convulsively at the nausea burning the tender membranes of her throat.

  No. There had to be another explanation. Not Rhy. Oh, please. Not Rhy. Let there be another explanation.

  Rhy’s footsteps reached the top of the stairs, and she lifted her eyes. He paused in the doorway, his gaze locked on to the papers in her hand. One look at his face killed any hope that Tim’s note wasn’t what it seemed. Rhy’s brow creased, and his Adam’s apple clicked on a swallow.

  Oh, dear God. The room spun. How could she have been so stupid? After everything she’d learned during her short marriage, she’d believed another man’s lies, and this time, she wasn’t the only one who would suffer the fallout.

  Alex. Get to Alex, now!

  She barely recognized her own cracking voice, not much more than a whisper. “Move away from the door.”

  “Nicky, let me explain.” Rhy’s deep voice held a desperate appeal.

  A crushing sense of betrayal threatened to steal her sanity, and she had to lock her knees to keep from sliding to the floor. “Move!”

  She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t heed her demand. He stood rooted to the spot, his big body filling the doorway as effectively as a wall. Her heartbeat tripled. Even if she could get past him, then what? Could she get to a vehicle before he caught her? She had no idea where Tim and the other members of the team were posted, but although she doubted they’d let her go without trying to stop her, she had to try.

  “So you can run?” Frustration gleamed in the blue eyes that held her captive. “That won’t accomplish anything other than to put you and Alex in danger.”

  “We’re already in danger, thanks to you.” She cast a furtive glance around the room in search of a weapon. “I knew it. I knew the minute you arrived at the Hawleys’ condo you were one of Jonathan’s thugs.”

  “You’re wrong about that.” He held out a hand. “Give me a chance to explain.”

  She had a letter opener in the top drawer of her dresser. If she could only get to it before he reached her. “Explain what? That you led Jonathan to my son?” Her heart shuddered in her chest “If anything has happened to Alex—”

  “Alex is safe.” Rhy took a step forward. “Lyndsay won’t let anything happen to him.”

  She stumbled back several steps, and Rhy stopped short.

  “So you say.” She held out the papers. “But these say something else. How do I know you and your team aren’t just another ploy in Jonathan’s vicious game?” Tears of terror burned her eyes. “How do I know Lyndsay hasn’t already turned my son over to him?”

  Disappointment flashed in Rhy’s eyes, and he took another step, cautiously moving toward her. “Because I gave you my word I’d keep Alex safe.”

  “Your word?” Hurt and anger squeezed her heart until it ached. She twisted her lips into a sneer. “Your word isn’t worth the breath that carries it.”

  His chest expanded on a cursing growl, and he paused several feet away. Shaking his head, his eyes held a plea for understanding. “You have every right to be pissed. I fucked up, Nicky, and Everson played me like a rookie. I’ll tell you everything, like I should have from the beginning, but Everson is responsible for my brother’s death.” Utter loathing twisted his lips and turned his voice harsh. “You once described him as a monster, and that’s what he is. Do you honestly think I’d let him get anywhere near Alex?”

  Images flashed through her mind. The instant concern in Rhy’s eyes as he searched the motel room for Alex the morning of Jonathan’s text. Rhy’s promise to Alex that the bad man would never get to him. Alex gripping Rhy’s hand in total trust.

  No, she couldn’t see him turning her little boy over to Jonathan, but the fact remained, Rhy would do whatever it took to catch his brother’s killer—even if it meant screwing his enemy’s ex-wife. Pain lashed at her galloping heart, and she dropped her arm to her side. Tim’s note and the accompanying reports fluttered to the floor. “I don’t have a clue what to believe anymore.”

  Rhy glanced at the scattered papers, his mouth pinched in a frustrated line. Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he held it out. “Call the Maxwells and check on him. You’ll see he’s safe.”

  Suspicious, she hesitated then took the phone. He remained silent as she punched in the number she’d memorized.

  Grace answered on the third ring. “Mr. McLean, is everything okay?”

  “It’s Nicky.”

  “Nicky. What’s wrong?”

  She met Rhy’s watchful gaze. “Nothing. Jonathan hasn’t shown up yet. I just wanted to check on Alex.”

  Grace’s chuckling sigh eased Nicky’s blinding fear. “He’s fine, sweetie. He’s out in the foaling shed with Devin, Drake, and Lyndsay. One of the mares is having twins.”

  Relief shook Nicky in a rolling shudder, and she slid her eyes closed. They popped open to the sound of crinkling paper. Squatting at her feet, Rhy gathered the pages of Tim’s report.

  “If you’ll hold on a minute, I’ll call down to the shed,” Grace offered.

  “No.” Nicky shook her head. “Let him be. Just tell him I love him and I’ll call him later.”

  “Are you okay?”

  More tears stung Nicky’s eyes at Grace’s simple question. She sucked them back. No, she wasn’t okay, but she’d survive. She had more important things to worry about than a broken heart. “I’m fine. I’ll call when I can.”

  She ended the call. Rhy straightened, and she passed him his phone.

  Shoulders tense, he tucked it into the pocket of his jeans. “He’s okay?”

  She nodded and, having no clue what to do next, sat on the edge of the bed. Rhy was right about one thing. Running now wouldn’t help, not if she wanted Jonathan out of their lives for good. Although she ached with the need to go off somewhere and begin the process of rebuilding the walls Rhy had destroyed with his lies, she had little choice but to proceed with the plan. But later…

  She flinched as Rhy moved suddenly and released a breath when he stepped away. He dropped into the chair beside the bed.

  His chest swelled on a breath before he spoke. “You once commented how you were surprised Everson hadn’t called in the debt I owed him.” He scraped a wide palm over his mouth and jaw. “He called the debt in with you.”

  She held his somber gaze in silence. He claimed Jonathan was responsible for his brother’s death. Even Tim made mention of Brian in his note, but was that just another lie designed to muddy the waters?

  Rhy leaned forward, propping his forearms on his lower thighs, and stared at the floor. “I fucked up, Nicky. Fucked up bad. I know better than to take on a job without vetting the facts, but I let my personal biases cloud my judgment. I saw you as no better than my ex-wife, and I was so anxious to put the debt behind me, I never questioned t
he documents claiming you’d embezzled millions from Everson Plastics.”

  Millions? She choked on a silent laugh. She’d have gladly paid Jonathan millions rather than live with his twisted sense of possession in those last few months. She linked her fingers together in her lap. “And later, when you learned the contents of my father’s disk?”

  “I had my doubts, but by then it was too late.” Rhy lifted his head. Eyes dark with remorse, his gaze clung to hers. His chest expanded on a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, Nicky. You deserved the truth, but I was afraid once I told you, you’d take off, and I’d lose my best chance at bringing Everson in.”

  Each word of the admission hit her like a stone, bruising in intensity, but no more than she deserved for her blindness. She and Alex were a job, nothing more. They were on their own, as they always had been and always would be. Foolish dreams of happily ever after and fairy-tale princes didn’t exist. Hadn’t she learned that lesson on a rainy night five years past?

  “Say something, please.” His shoulders slumped, and he shook his head. “Yell at me. Tell me I’m an asshole. Hell, throw a lamp at me if it’ll help, just say you understand and that you can forgive me.”

  Forgive him? When she had no idea if what he said now was the actual truth or just more spin control? She wrapped her arms around her waist. “Swear on your brother’s life, when Jonathan shows up you won’t hand me over to him.”

  “Jesus.” Rhy straightened, his eyes full of heated disbelief. “How could you even think I would—”

  “Swear it, McLean, because if that’s your plan, I’d rather you put a bullet in my head.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rhy paused in the doorway to the kitchen. His gaze roamed the rigid line of Nicky’s back where she leaned against the counter. Utterly still, she stared out the window into the backyard. She hadn’t said a word, had barely glanced his way, since stalking from the bedroom three hours ago and leaving him alone with his guilt.