by Angel Payne
And looking forward to moments like this.
The one advantage to being half Freddie Krueger was that a guy could go anywhere he wanted and do even more. Eyeballs on the entire guest roster at a Mexican Rivera resort known for its high security? No problem. The Ken doll side of the face, flashed at just the right angle, charmed the front desk agent out of her panties enough to turn it over. Getting past the guards at Cameron Stock’s suite? Presto magico. Out came the burned monster, long enough to remind the assholes what they’d look like once they were worm food, so he could slip in with two hired goons of his own and make off with the man before anyone noticed.
By the time Stock’s henchmen realized their boss was gone, Dan had the ass-wad drugged up, tied up, and loaded up into a private transport helo, set on a direct flight here. The timing was advantageous. Tait was already out in the canyon, playing best man at his brother Shay’s wedding over at Spring Mountain Ranch. Dan threw a stare over at the lights of the celebration, where the Elvis tune had become the Cha Cha Slide. He imagined the faces of so many friends in that glow, happy and smiling…and not worried about how to act with him or look at him, the burned husk serving as a reminder of the off-books operation where they’d all nearly died.
Due in part to the man now whimpering at him and Tait’s feet.
“You ready to do this, spook man?”
Dan chuffed at T’s use of the nickname. He hadn’t been a real spook for a while. Though he was still on the CIA’s payroll, his indefinite medical leave wouldn’t be lifted until he received clearance from one of their “approved” head shrinks—and he’d be damned if anyone was going to crack open his psyche for a guided tour anytime soon. He let the label slide, though. There was more important work here to be done.
“You know it,” he uttered back.
“Music to my ears.” Tait chuckled when Stock’s eyes popped wide, before his scream trickled from the edges of the cloth gag they’d given him in Mexico. “But that doesn’t suck either, Stock. You just sing all you want, because I’ve been waiting a long damn time for this—namely, from the moment I had to bury the woman I loved thanks to your terrorism.” He ran the knife over the sharpening stone again. “Learning that you extorted my mom for years, keeping her from my brother and me, really wasn’t a good helper for your case either, man. And oh yeah…the bit about my sweet little old lady neighbor secretly being your minion, assigned to kill Shay and me if mom ever tried to contact us? So not smooth in the karma department. Guess it’s a good thing you got some points back when Shay and I found Mom last year.”
Dan pivoted so he could plant one boot on Stock’s chest, his face directly in Stock’s line of vision. “Let’s not forget his unique monster-making talent, either. Maybe I’ll just stand here and remind you, asshole.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic idea,” Tait growled. “Nice little preview of hell. How sweet you are, Colton.”
“That’s me. Mr. Giver.”
“Good to hear. That frees me up to be Mr. Karma.” Tait’s voice had doubled in roughness. Dan could feel the tension rolling off of his friend. While he knew this was a day Tait had anticipated for a long time, the conflict in the man was palpable. For the first time, Dan peered directly at Tait. Hard.
“Well?” he prompted. “You ready, man?”
Tait rolled his shoulders then nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” But after he took two steps over, he paused. And returned Dan’s stare with just as much determination. “No, Dan.” He shook his head. “Not okay. Dammit, I’m sorry, but…”
Dan glared. Let his jaw plummet. “You’re sorry? Are you kidding me?”
A small smile jerked at a corner of his mouth. “Sometimes…you just have to let love win.” He tossed the knife to the ground then rolled his shoulders again. This time, the move was more a shrug. “Love’s the winner for me, Dan…the lightning bolt that just seems to keep hitting. I watched my brother declare the same truth for his life today. My mom was on one side of me, Lani on the other…lightning bolts number two and three for me, man. I have a feeling that Lani, Kell, and I will be working on number four in a while, too.”
Rage roiled through Dan’s chest. Every mottled inch of skin on the right side of his face began to burn with it, too. Logically, he knew the pain was only memory. Didn’t matter when memories were as true as reality.
“Well, isn’t that just sweet and special?” He couldn’t spit it viciously enough. “So glad to know things worked out for you, dude. That traveling all the way to Mexico, finding this ass-nozzle, flying him out and bringing him right to your feet was so worth my fucking time!”
Tait’s face—still so surfer-god attractive that he’d turned girls’ heads during Shay’s bachelor party at Gilley’s the other night—tautened. “Calm the fuck down, Colton. Nobody asked you to play Dog the Bounty Hunter and traipse down to Mexico on a vendetta.”
“Shut up,” Dan snarled. He grabbed the knife and stomped over, thrusting the handle back out at the guy. “Shut the fuck up, Tait, and send this bastard to hell now—or I will!”
# # #
Coming in October 2014:
The acclaimed series by Angel Payne & Victoria Blue continues!
No More Masquerade
Secrets of Stone—Book 2
Behind every good man…is the love of an even better woman.
Those were just pretty words before I met Claire Montgomery. Before my fairy queen burst into my life, I didn’t recognize the bastard in my morning mirror—but her love has given me the strength to face the imposter, even embrace him. My tower in the clouds is no longer a sentence of isolation; it’s a jumping point to the stars. With Claire at my side, I’m the king I always wanted to be, the Killian Stone I always dreamed of becoming.
Which means for once, I want the mask guarding my secret to stay right where it is.
If you want the grown-up fairy tale…learn to love the dark side.
Profound sentiment. Wish I could get on board with it but the prince in pinstripes has other ideas. Life has been a dream since Killian burst into the ball offering the perfect fit—his heart and mine, not the shoes, the car or the jewelry—but the treasures have become his armor, hiding the man I yearn to know. I refuse to open his little velvet box until he opens himself, letting me see even the dark hallways of his soul…
Until he lifts all his masks for me.
Master of the masquerade…
Fate has always bowed to my bidding. I should have known it was simply picking its time to exact the best revenge, to reveal the secrets that will destroy everything. Without my disguise, am I still the man Claire fell in love with…or another penniless prince vying for an unattainable dream?
Mistress of his ruin?
He always told me to be careful what I wish for. By demanding his truth, have I not only demolished the dream we had…but the man I’ve loved more than any other?
Special Sneak Preview Excerpt
The world was exploding.
It was my usual reaction when getting swarmed by the paparazzi and their flashbulbs. It probably wouldn’t ever change. I wasn’t sure I wanted it to. Did anyone ever get used to this?
Eight months after I’d publically became Killian Stone’s girlfriend, the shutterbugs still enjoyed tracking me down when photo ops were thin up north, in the hallowed land of LA-LA. Their latest opportunity—and a Fellini-like horror straight from my nightmares—occurred on a Saturday morning when I got home with groceries in my arms, a sloppy ponytail on my head, and my rattiest beach shorts paired with a faded Queen T-shirt. The tee was a classic, Mercury not Lambert, so I could get away with the rip in the right sleeve.
“Good morning, Claire. You look great, girlfriend. Give us a smile? Just one?”
“Guys,” I protested, “aren’t the Oscars in a few weeks? There has to be someone in Hollywood being fitted or waxed or plucked…or whatever they do to get ready for that stuff. You have to know where all the salons are, right?”
“Pffft. They all hire privat
e stylists now. We’re not getting anything before the red carpet unless Syndra Sinclair decides to have some fun.”
Syndra, aka “Sin Squared,” was the media’s newest Tinseltown bad girl to hound. Despite the starlet’s wild behavior, I pitied her. The photographers were much nicer to me than her, and the experience left me frazzled. I could only imagine what her life was like.
“It’s a beautiful Saturday morning,” I persisted, “and we’re only going to have this Indian summer for a few more days. Take the day off. Go to the beach. I give you permission.”
They chuckled. Then kept clicking away.
“Speaking of you and the permissions you grant…you’ve captivated Stone longer than any woman before. Will there be a ring on that left hand soon, Claire?”
My gut clenched. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been asked the question before. I was sure Killian had been asked twice as many times. But he wasn’t asking that question until a lot more of mine were answered. Until he exposed those shadows I could still see in the depths of his gaze…
“Answer’s the same, Hal.” I shrugged. “No comment. Can you make yourself useful and shut my car door, please?”
“Need it locked?”
“It’ll do that by itself.”
Of course it did. The winter white Audi A8 did everything on its own except yell at idiot drivers and levitate over traffic jams. After Killian gave it to me, I’d told him my name wasn’t Captain Picard and refused to drive the thing for a month. But then he took me for a long weekend in Santa Barbara in it. And showed me how it detected every Starbuck’s within a five-mile radius. And gave me a couple of hours in its back seat, parked in a eucalyptus grove overlooking Goleta Beach, that still made parts of me tremble with need…
Now I needed a cold shower.
I settled for a glass of ice water, retrieved after putting away the groceries and enjoyed on my favorite chair in the house, an old leather recliner I’d had since college. The chair joined the Napa-style décor in my rented Mission Hills bungalow, where I’d lived since graduating college. I didn’t care that planes flew overhead all hours of the day and night; the neighborhood was my favorite part of the city—and the chair like a friend who knew all my warts and still loved me. It was just what I needed right now. A reminder of closeness on its most basic level.
A nag about the piece of intimacy I was still missing with Killian.
I sighed. This feeling sucked. He’d given me so much already—and I didn’t mean the material things. While being his queen was sometimes like walking through a luxury living magazine, all of it was simple background to the magnificence of him. His power, grace, sensuality, intensity…it had all sharpened every day between us, even over the miles, getting better with every consuming kiss, every sinful look, every tingling touch.
It scared me.
Too good to be true.
How many times were those words more right than wrong?
The doorbell couldn’t have butted in with better timing.
I gratefully left my insecurities behind in the chair, despite the discomfort of what I faced. I liked Hal and his buddies but having to shoo them off like magazine salesmen wasn’t fun.
My door didn’t have a peep hole but I slid back the small peek-a-boo door set into the heavy wood, double-checking it really was Hal and not some magazine peddler.
I blinked in surprise. No Hal. A small woman stood on the porch, neatly groomed and shyly smiling. I tried to make out the logo on her T-shirt but the sun blasted me in the eye, bouncing off the neighbor’s clay tile roof from across the street.
“Can I…help you?”
She nodded in respect. “Hi. I’m Christina. From Mystic Maids?”
I frowned. “Well, I’m mystified.” I laughed, unable to help myself. She’d pitched it right over the plate but I was still down in the count. I hadn’t hired a cleaning service. She glanced at her paperwork, clearly certain she was at the right address.
We stood there trying to figure each other out…then it hit me.
Killian.
“Dear Lord,” I muttered, before unlocking and opening the door. “Please come in. Christina, right?” I looked back over my shoulder while the young woman followed me in.
“Do you mind if I put my lunch in your refrigerator?” She was so adorable. It was going to kill me to tell her she wasn’t going to be here long enough to eat the meal.
“Listen, Christina…I didn’t actually hire you. While I’m sure you do a great job, and I appreciate you coming all the way up here…” I grimaced as her brows met in confusion. “Please, if you can sit tight while I make a quick phone call to my over-the-top boyfriend, we’ll get this straightened out.”
On cue, Justin Timberlake’s Sexy Back blasted from my phone. Heat crawled across my face. Christina erupted in a giggle. Again, adorable to the power of ten. Dammit, she was growing on me by the minute.
“Speak of the devil.” I gave her a commiserating wink. “Excuse me for one sec.”
I picked up the call after walking into the front sitting room.
“Good morning, fairy queen. How’s my girl today?”
God, he was so perfect.
And frustrating.
“Good morning to you, too. I was just about to call you.” I caught Christina starting to move things in the kitchen, dusting into the corners. Better talk fast, girlfriend.
“Oh, yeah?” His voice descended to a growl that would tempt a nun. “Were you dreaming about me again? Wait one sec while I close my office door and you can tell me all about it.”
“Why are you in the office on a Saturday?”
“And you’re not working today?”
“Not…right at the moment.”
“The door’s closed. Better idea. Let me video call you. Then you can act out your dream for me. Go to the bedroom. I’ll wait.”
I swore I could hear his eyebrows waggling across the line…and it made my blood dance in delicious ways. A lot of things mesmerized me about the man, but his lighthearted side neared the top of the list. He showed it to so few, and since things were damn near perfect between us, I was becoming the leader of that privileged crowd. I liked that spot. A lot.
Where the hell was I?
Frustrating. Him. Same sentence.
“We have to switch to serious for a minute.”
“Okay, but only a minute.”
“This girl showed up at my house this morning. From Mystic Maids?”
“Hmm. Good. She’s right on time. They came highly recommended for their thoroughness and punctuality.”
“So you not only hired a service, but researched the whole thing.”
“Yes and yes.”
“Dammit, Kil.”
“What? The new acquisition has been a boatload of extra work for your team. Then with the unexpected damage control from Father’s episode and your propensity for perfection…you’ve been working too fucking hard.”
“Said the pot to the kettle?”
“The last thing you need to be worrying about is keeping the house clean.”
“How is Josiah doing, by the way?”
“They released him yesterday. Simple heartburn, as everyone knows thanks to you. Don’t change the subject.”
“It’s my subject, buddy. You’re on the hot seat here, not me.”
“You’re not Cinderella, for chrissake. In spite of the wicked stepsister and the questionable stepmother, the mice on your hearth don’t get to gawk at your cleavage if I don’t.” There was a beat before he got the humor of his own line and started snickering.
“Stop it,” I snapped. “You’re violating our agreement and I’m peeved.”
“We didn’t have an ‘agreement.’ We had a talk. I’m not violating a damn—”
“I don’t need you to keep doing stuff like this for me! I’m sending her home.”
“Don’t. You. Dare.”
Shit. Now I’d pissed him off. Big time. And damn…was it hot.
“Really? Or what? What
are you going to do, Chicago? Hmmm. That’s right. You’re all the way in Chicago. Oh, boo.”
Why the hell was I goading him? You know damn well why. He makes your panties twelve kinds of wet when he’s in prowling panther mode, that’s why.
“I could be there by this afternoon, Miss Montgomery. Then I doubt you’d have such a pert little attitude.”
Miss Montgomery. Shit. When he called me that…using that dark, dangerous tone…
“I’m perfectly capable of cleaning my own house, Killian. This is ridiculous.”
“But I don’t want you to.” The line rustled. I imagined him straightening in his Odin’s throne chair at the office, leaning over his big desk, the long fingers of his free hand pushing at the wood as his face hardened with command. “That should be enough of a reason. Do you understand?”
More heat suffused my face. My eyes slid shut, letting the heat of his imperative tone wreck all kinds of chaos on my bloodstream. I had no idea what to do with him when he was like this. While it was infuriating as hell, he elevated caveman to a whole new level of sexy. If he commanded me to jam my hand down my shorts and touch myself while he spoke I would’ve complied, even with Christina in the next room.
“Claire?”
“What?” I retorted.
“If you send her away, I will be very disappointed.”
“Tell me.” It was more a breath than anything else. “How disappointed?”
“Don’t push me.” He let out a rough grunt. “Goddammit, why do you make this shit hard? I like doing things for you. It’s important to me. And I won’t be questioned over every single decision I make.”
I stared out the window, feeling pulled by an undertow then slammed by a ten-foot breaker. After eight months, he could still do this to me. I seethed at him. Burned for him. Hated him. Wanted him.
Loved him.
“Claire? Are we done here?”
I fumed for another long moment. “Fine. Yes. We’re done here. Jerk.”