Deadly Secrets, Loving Lies

by Cynthia Cooke

  She nibbled on her bottom lip. Smart. Even from up here, the angle was such that she couldn’t get to them. These guys were pros. And they’d done their homework.

  Kiddo, I’ve always known.

  Was it Cameron? Had he sent this team to take her out, or to be assured she’d leave with Kyle?

  Kyle. Oh, God.

  Dark brown hair. Deep blue eyes. Wide generous smile. Strong, warm embrace. Wanted to love her forever. She pushed thoughts of him from her mind and focused on the men hiding within the circle of vehicles. She counted nine. Nine big men to come after little ol’ her?

  She smiled.

  One of the men inched forward. She waited, counting under her breath as he moved steadily into the center of the crosshairs on her scope. She pulled the trigger aiming below his vest. He collapsed to the ground, blood spreading across his thigh.

  “One down,” she whispered. “Eight more to go.”

  His cohorts quickly pulled him back behind the wheel of the closest vehicle.

  Almost like a military operation.

  She crinkled her brow.

  They quickly reformed, and then a man crouched wielding a large mirror in his hand. Before she could react, a sharp blinding light hit her. Pain stung her eyes. She squeezed them shut. Then she heard it, the pounding of footsteps on her staircase.

  Shit! She opened her eyes, but for a few seconds saw only white pinpricks before her vision refocused.

  Wood splintered and her house shook beneath her as someone kicked and pummeled her steel-reinforced front door.

  “Damn!”

  Her cell rang again. This time, she answered.

  “Genie, where are you?”

  Kyle. She hated the little flutter that hit her chest when she heard his warm, gravely self-assured voice. Flutters like stupid, happy little butterflies. “I’m in the crow’s nest. They’ve breached my perimeter.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m almost there.”

  “Who said I was worried?” she added, faking nonchalance.

  “And why would you be worried? I’m sure you can handle this. Should I just go back to Vegas, belly up to the bar and grab myself a cold one?” Irritation pricked his voice.

  She hated that it had to be him coming to her rescue. Of all the people on their team, and it had to be him. “You do whatever you have to do.”

  “That seems to have become a specialty of mine.” The line clicked and he was gone.

  She sighed. She always pushed him away. Even when they’d been together, she’d kept him at an arm’s distance. A long arm. He’d loved her, but it hadn’t been enough. Could never be enough. Because he could never know the truth of who, of what, she really was.

  Becca’s voice mocked her. “God forbid Genie should let herself find happiness and love. It would mean she had something to lose, a weak spot, an area of vulnerability.”

  But for the three Marsters girls, what choice did they have? What choice did she have?

  Even so, Becca’s words still burned, but this time they were tinged with sadness. Her sister had been right all along. Only now Becca was dead, and Genie knew what loving and losing really meant.

  With her dad missing, she was quickly learning what it also felt like to be vulnerable, scared and completely alone. And she didn’t like it.

  Something crashed. The house shook beneath her, rattling her teeth. The men, whoever they were, had gained access. She searched the horizon, looking for a cloud of dust on the road, for any sign that Kyle was coming. That no matter what she said or did, he wouldn’t abandon her.

  He wouldn’t. Not Kyle.

  Not this time.

  Or would he? After all, hadn’t she abandoned him first?

  She cringed as she felt and heard her house being torn apart below her. Who were these men? What did they want? Suddenly, they were pounding on the door beneath her, shaking her little perch until she wasn’t certain how long it would withstand the abuse.

  “Who are you? What do you want?” she yelled.

  The pounding continued. She heard a shot fired into the metal. They’d reach her soon. There wasn’t much that could withstand the degree of force they were dishing out. She pulled the necklace her father had sent her out of her pocket and placed it around her neck, tipping the crystal inside her shirt. Then she closed her eyes and tried to get a reading through the metal door of the men below. Were they Cameron’s men or Emerich’s? She reached out with her mind, but got only vague impressions that were absolutely no use. She couldn’t determine why these men were after her, or who had sent them.

  She searched the horizon for Kyle once more but he was nowhere to be seen. She stashed the Ka-bar into the sheath at her waist and her Glock back into the holster at her ankle, and set down the rifle. She quickly scanned the yard. No one remained at the vehicles.

  They were all inside. All coming for her.

  Time to move. She unlatched the bulletproof bubble and pushed the top open. She had a motorcycle stashed out back. Once she got down to the ground, she’d flatten their tires and take off for Vegas. It was the best chance she had.

  The acrid scent of burning metal warned her time was running short. They were torching the latch off her trap door. They’d reach her within seconds. She climbed onto the small landing on top of the roof. She was very high up. Too high to survive a fall to the desert floor. She picked up the end of a repelling cable hooked at the ready onto the roof and attached it to her belt.

  It was a long drop to the ground, but nothing she hadn’t done before. She just hoped there wouldn’t be anyone down below waiting for her.

  Chapter Two

  Kyle stared in disbelief at the odd, mushroom-shaped structure rising up from the cracked, dry earth of the Nevada desert.

  “There she is,” the voice of Johnny Garino, his crew chief and closest friend, buzzed in his earpiece.

  Genie stood on the roof of the strange house. Three black SUVs were corralled on the ground far below her. She looked incredible, breathtaking, silhouetted against the brilliant blue sky. Kyle sucked in a breath as she clipped a cable to her belt.

  “She’s getting ready to fly!” Johnny called out, his voice rising in pitch.

  “Hold on, baby. I’m almost there.” Kyle pushed down on the throttle urging the bird faster, even as he willed Genie to turn and see him, to hold on until he could sweep her away from the danger.

  And once he did, once he had her safe and secure in his cockpit, then what?

  Then he’d try not to kill her himself.

  The bird lurched forward. Genie turned toward him, the wind whipping her hair into a gold halo around her head as she stared at him. His jaw twitched unhappily. She was still able to steal his breath. Even after everything she’d done to him.

  He steeled himself, narrowing his eyes and hardening his defenses. He would rescue her sorry ass, but he would not let her get under his skin. Not again. As far as he was concerned, the woman he’d once loved had died in the warehouse explosion and was buried alongside her sister.

  Liar.

  Even as he gave himself the harsh warning, a part of him wanted to see her again. To be near her. To hold her. His right leg ached, reminding him of the broken bones, the weeks in the hospital, the months of physical therapy.

  And she’d never come.

  Not once.

  At the time, all Cameron would tell him was that Genie was gone. Off the grid. No longer a part of CTA. But he’d heard the whispers all along. Voices that said that, before the explosion, Sean Emerich, known terrorist and the bastard they’d been after for eighteen months, the man who still dealt in everything from gun running to human trafficking, had been shacking up and working with Genie’s sister, Becca.

  Hell, Kyle hadn’t even known Genie had had a sister. And to make matters worse, he’d since found out she had another one. They’d been goddamn triplets! He’d loved Genie. Been closer to her than he’d ever been to any woman, and yet she’d kept so much from him. Secrets and lies.


  Even if he wanted to—which he definitely didn’t—how would he ever be able to trust her again?

  Especially if the rumors were true, and Genie had known her sister was with Emerich and had done nothing. Said nothing. Or worse, had warned Becca of the case the CTA was building against him. And what had been her involvement with the warehouse explosion? Why had she even been there? Why had she wanted Kyle to meet her there if she was just going to disappear afterward, without an explanation of what in the hell had been going on?

  So much destruction and pain had followed. Becca’s death. His own broken body. And still Genie had not come. Not for Becca. Not for him.

  He pulled his mental armor tight, zipping it up and closing the lid on the coffin that had once held his feelings for the beautiful, dynamic woman standing on the roof of the mushroom-shaped structure in the desert, and buried them even deeper.

  “Whoo-ee, that girl can still scorch the skin off your eyeballs,” Johnny called as he opened the door and readied the ladder. “Twenty degrees to your left.”

  Yeah, she was a looker all right. But she was also a traitor. A liar. And as far as he was concerned, she could rot right here in this isolated tomb of her own making. But he had orders to rescue her from the unknown enemy in the black SUVs. Pick her up and bring her in to Cameron.

  Alive.

  And Kyle always followed orders. If he was anything, he was a good soldier. First. Foremost. Always.

  Damn Cameron and his orders and the whole CTA to hell.

  …

  Genie looked up and sucked in a breath as a helicopter approached at full speed. Kyle? Or the bad guys?

  She scanned the helo as a hot whirl of wind almost pushed her from her perch. Her hair whipped around her face, momentarily blinding her. She held on tight to the roof railing. The chopper was flying low, real low and real fast. She looked down. Men were filing out of the house below her, all staring up at the helo in the sky. Killing her chance to repel to safety.

  Trapped.

  The helicopter hovered above her. “Genie, let’s go!” The voice boomed from a bullhorn.

  Her eyes widened as she saw Johnny Garino waving to her from the copter’s open door. She couldn’t help the smile of relief that split her face. “Kyle.” She didn’t know why she was surprised. He’d said he was coming. And the man always had known how to make an entrance.

  A rope ladder dropped. Within seconds she had it in her grasp. She unhooked the repelling cable from her belt buckle as the metal door in the hatch below her banged open. Two men pushed up into her crow’s nest less than ten feet away.

  “Roll it,” she yelled, and gave the thumbs up sign.

  The helo lurched forward, pulling her off the roof. She held on tight, the ladder lodged in the crook of her elbow as she flew through the hot desert air, away from her home, her sanctuary, and the men standing on her roof pointing H&K MP5s at her.

  She tensed, instinctively ducking her head as she clung to the ladder, the searing air thrashing her face as she waited for bullets to start flying. But they never came. She turned and glanced over her shoulder. The men were watching her escape, their guns pointed her way. And yet they did nothing. What the hell? Why send nine armed men to storm her fortress home only to calmly watch her slip away?

  The reason hit her with a stinging smack to the face.

  They wanted her alive.

  Gripping the rungs of the ladder, she slowly climbed as the helicopter soared over the barren Nevada desert. She pulled herself up into the belly of the helo and smiled wide at Johnny before launching herself into his arms.

  He hugged her back, a forceful bear hug. The lines around his green eyes crinkled. “Good to see you, doll.”

  “Back at you, tubs.” Her nickname for him ever since the academy days, when he’d come into their unit a little too heavy and a little too happy, rolled easily off her tongue. Even though he’d been bigger than the rest of them, he’d always been the first around the track and the first over the wall. He handled whatever they threw at them with a smile on his face and a joke on his lips.

  Johnny could always be counted on.

  Just like Kyle.

  Anxiety twisted inside her at the thought of her former lover. She stole a peek toward the cockpit. Kyle sat rigid in the pilot’s seat, not saying a word, not even turning to look at her. The sharp edges of his handsome profile hit her hard. She supposed she couldn’t blame him for not acknowledging her. But it pissed her off anyway.

  She buckled into one of the four back seats as Johnny pulled up the ladder and shut the door. No reason to pour salt into the wound by having to deal with Kyle now.

  “Oh no, sugar,” Johnny said with a wink and a smile. He jerked his head toward the cockpit. “You go right on up front.”

  “What? And miss the chance to catch up with you? No way. How you been, Johnny?”

  “Exhausted. So, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna sit back here and get me some shut-eye. Alone.”

  She stuck out her lower lip and pouted.

  “It’s not that I haven’t missed you, doll. ‘Cause I have. A lot. More than I should have, I reckon.” He leaned forward and placed a hand on her knee. “In fact, maybe later after my nap we can spend a little alone time together, eh?”

  “Darling, you and I, we’re just not meant to be.” She grinned as she repeated their old joking repartee, glad to see some things, some people, never changed.

  “Only in my dreams, sugar.” He winked and leaned back in his chair. “Now go face your demons before they get the better of you.”

  “Nope, we can’t have that,” she muttered, and stepped toward the front of the copter and strapped herself into the co-pilot’s seat. She settled the headset onto her head and adjusted the mic. Finally, she turned to face the man who’d gotten too close to her, and suffered the consequences. And yet here he was, still being there for her when she needed him. Not sure what she should say to that. Thanks? I guess I needed you after all?

  I’m sorry I left you.

  I’m sorry I lied.

  Nothing seemed right. So she said nothing at all.

  He still hadn’t turned to look at her. She took advantage of the moment to peruse his face. He looked the same—drop dead gorgeous with his dark, almost-black hair, deep blue eyes, and strong chiseled jaw. The man had always managed to make her toes curl with just a look.

  But not anymore.

  What they’d had was dead and gone. She’d killed it and there was no bringing it back. No matter that her pulse was racing like a roadrunner and her heart was doing a weird little happy dance. That was just the adrenaline from her near death experience coursing through her veins. Nothing more. She had to focus on what was at stake now—her dad.

  Nothing else mattered.

  Really.

  “Who were those men?” she asked, making her tone flat and professional.

  “Not even a ‘thanks for the rescue?’” Kyle responded. His voice was deep, strong and exactly the way he sounded when he stole into her dreams at night.

  She turned away and stared out the concave window at the endless sea of sagebrush and scrub land below, and tried to ignore the old ache in the middle of her chest. Unfortunately, she could still see his reflection. “I was managing the situation but if it makes you feel better, yes, thanks for the rescue.”

  Something twitched in his jaw. “You’re welcome.”

  She braced herself as his subtle scent filled the cockpit—citrus and spice—and she had to grit her teeth against a sudden flare of longing. Why could she not spend five minutes around this man without her senses going into hyperdrive? “They looked and acted military.”

  “I noticed.” Was that concern? Yeah, right. She gave herself a mental shake. He wasn’t concerned. He no longer cared. And why should he? She’d gone MIA on him for the past eight months. Eight long, lonely months. She’d thought she was over him, and yet, here she was staring at his large and capable hands expertly handling the throttle as easily as he h
andled his emotions.

  If he still had any emotions where she was concerned. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was completely over her, and she was just sitting there, torturing herself thinking about what might have been. What had been. She should tune into him and find out one way or the other what his real feelings were for her now. But she wouldn’t. She was too much of a coward even to consider it. She really did not want to know.

  Anger burned in her gut. Damn Cameron for not sending someone else to extract her from her tree house! She didn’t appreciate having to face Kyle Montgomery and dredge up all these old feelings again. They were better left dead and buried.

  Straightening, she turned back to him. “What exactly do you know about what’s happening with my father?” she asked, her voice sounding harsher than she’d intended.

  The brilliant blue of his eyes flashed as his gaze met hers and held. She clenched her fist against the jolt of attraction shooting through her and quickly glanced away again. What was wrong with her?

  “We got a distress call from the island yesterday afternoon. We sent a team immediately, but by the time they arrived, the estate was empty.”

  Fear squeezed her, cutting off her breath as she tried to imagine her father’s huge house empty. This was worse than she’d thought. “Conclusions?”

  “Hard to tell. No witnesses. Surveillance systems had been deactivated. Everything looked in order.”

  “Except my dad wasn’t there.”

  He nodded. His hands gripped the stick tightly, his neck and jaw stiff. “There was no sign of a struggle, nothing to show forced entry. If anything, it looked as if he’d left voluntarily.”

  “But he didn’t.”

  “We can’t tell. The only indication of trouble was that the distress switch on the alarm system had been activated.”

  And that he’d sent her the necklace, letting her know that he didn’t have her back. Implying he must have known they were coming. Whoever they were.

  “We have agents in the area,” he added. “If there’s anything to be found, we’ll find it.”