Killian's Passion

by Barbara Mccauley

  “You will,” the woman said and lifted a gun. “Very soon.”

  They all turned at the sound of the ringing phone.

  “Don’t answer it,” Peter snapped.

  After three rings, the machine came on…

  “Cara, pick up this phone,” Ian’s voice said. “This is important, pick it up…”

  “She’s still in there,” Gabe told Ian. “Lucian’s watching the back, but no one’s come in or out all morning, except for the landlady and a tenant on the first floor. You want me to come up with you?”

  “Better stay down here. It might get ugly, especially after I tell her a few things about myself.” Ian saw Gabe’s eyebrows raise, but this wasn’t the time to elaborate. “Don’t be surprised if she throws me out of her living room window.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me at all.”

  The two men shook hands, took measure of each other. “But if you hurt my sister,” Gabe said, “I’m afraid I’ll have to kill you.”

  Ian smiled. “I’ll do my damnedest not to call your hand on that one.”

  Dodging a white delivery van as he crossed the street, Ian slipped inside the building, then moved cautiously up the stairwell. The only sound was a radio playing Led Zeppelin from a downstairs apartment and the muffled voice of someone singing along. The aroma of Italian food wafted from the bottom floor, reminding him he’d had nothing more than coffee today.

  There was no answer when he knocked on her door. He called her name. Still no answer.

  Retrieving Cara’s hideaway key that he’d watched Gabe slip back into its cubbyhole yesterday morning, he opened the door. When he stepped inside, he froze at the press of hard steel against his temple.

  “Come in, Mr. Shawnessy.” The man holding the gun kicked the door shut. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  The man patted him down for a weapon. Ian could easily take the guy, but at the sight of Cara sitting at the kitchen table, his blood went cold.

  Her arms were tied behind her; a woman with red hair stood over her, a gun in her hand that she held pressed to Cara’s head. Her face was pale, but he saw something in her eyes that gave him hope: anger. Red-hot anger. He wasn’t certain who it was directed at, probably everyone, but the fact that it was there gave him a balance he might not have had otherwise.

  That’s my girl, he thought. Just stay mad and we’ll fight them together.

  “Well, if it isn’t the honeymooners,” Ian quipped when the man shoved him into the room. “We never had the privilege of an introduction, did we, kids?”

  “You should have left when you were supposed to, cousin.” Uncrossing his legs, Peter rose from the living room sofa. “It would have been so much easier.”

  “It was him all along.” Cara glared at Peter. “He hired these two morons to kill me in Wolf River.”

  Ian winced as the redhead backhanded Cara across the cheek, whipping her head to the side. And with a gun stuck in his back, Ian didn’t dare move. Cara’s eyes spit green nails as she stared at the other woman.

  “You can’t get away with this.” Ian turned his attention back to Peter. “There are two men watching the front and rear.”

  Peter’s brows lifted in surprise, then he shrugged. “All the better. We came in through the service entrance on the side. With both of you dead, there’ll be nothing to connect me to any wrongdoings. In fact, I’m at my office right now, in a meeting. I’ll slip back in through my private entrance in the rear, and no one will be the wiser.”

  “Margaret changed her will, Peter.”

  Peter’s head jerked up. “What are you talking about?”

  “The will she had drawn up dividing everything between you and Cara? She changed it already. Her new will leaves half of her estate to a foundation she’s starting for single mothers.”

  “That’s a lie.” Peter’s face drained of color. “She wouldn’t.”

  Desperately wanting to draw the redhead away from Cara, Ian inched toward the table. “Margaret knows the money doesn’t mean anything to Cara, and she thinks you have your own inheritance from your father. She doesn’t know how seriously in debt you are, or that you’ve been embezzling from her company.”

  One of Ian’s phone calls from the cell phone had confirmed his first accusation, but he was guessing on the embezzling part. Based on the angry flush on Peter’s face, he’d guessed right.

  Peter dragged a shaky hand through his hair, then glanced up at Bob. “I need a few minutes to make some phone calls before you take care of them. Tie him up and wait until I’m finished.”

  “The police are on their way now,” Ian lied. “I called them on the way over here. You can’t get away.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” Peter pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, dialed, then nodded to the man standing behind Ian. “Dead wrong, as a matter of fact.”

  Ian felt the drop of the gun butt on the back of his neck, heard Cara’s cry as he sank to his knees. His head swam with white stars as Bob jerked him back up, then tossed him in the chair beside Cara and tied his hands. With a smile on her face, the redhead ran the gun over Cara’s jaw, silently inviting Ian to make a move.

  “Hey, Shawnessy.” Cara looked directly into his eyes. “That record I told you about, I think I broke it.”

  Record? What record? He pushed through the fog in his brain, slowly brought his head up as he realized what she was talking about.

  The ropes.

  He couldn’t see behind her back, but he knew she’d broken loose of the ropes holding her. He also knew she was planning something he didn’t like.

  Peter’s face was a tight mask of rage as he turned back to them and snapped his cell phone shut. “My sources tell me that my dear cousin here is telling the truth.”

  Ian smiled. “Ain’t life a bitch?”

  “This changes a few things:” Peter’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Ian and Cara. “But not everything. The headline story tomorrow will still be about a lovers’ quarrel gone sour. You’ll both have your five minutes of fame, and after Margaret’s untimely demise, well, I’ll still get half of a great deal of money.”

  “Peter,” Cara appealed. “Just walk away now and no one’s been hurt. We’ll all just forget about this.”

  He shook his head sadly, moved next to her and cupped her chin in his hand. “You are my biggest regret, Cara. I truly am sorry.”

  Her eyes leveled with his. “Not as sorry as you’re going to be,” she said evenly, then slid her gaze to Ian.

  Dammit! Ian recognized that look, that bull-dogged determination. He watched her suck in a breath as Peter turned away, saw her body tense. No, he told her with his eyes, but she only nodded.

  His hands were bound tight enough to cut off circulation at his wrists, but Bob was still working at his ankles. Ian braced himself.

  Cara shot out of the chair like a cannonball, fists flying as she whirled on the redhead at the same time Ian slammed his head downward and rammed Bob’s nose.

  That’s when all hell broke loose.

  The redhead’s gun exploded; the bullet blasted the ceiling, raining plaster all over them. Peter raised an arm to cover his head while he ran for the front door, but at the moment, Ian had other, more immediate problems than Peter’s escape. Bob was gushing blood from his nose and mad as hell as he reared up from the floor.

  Ian kicked out with his half-tied feet, made direct contact with the man’s groin. Doubling over, Bob toppled into the dining room table, sucking in air. Ian kicked out a second time, catching the man in the nose again. Howling with pain, he crashed into the wall, knocking down pictures and a shelf with china. Plates and teacups smashed onto his head; his eyes rolled backward, then his head dropped limply onto his chest.

  Whirling, ready to help Cara, Ian couldn’t help but smile when he saw her kneeling on the facedown, laid-out redhead.

  “You all right, Blondie?” he asked.

  “Just fine, Flash.” Breathing hard, she reached for the rope she’d escaped f
rom, then twisted the moaning redhead’s arms behind her back. “You?”

  Ian glanced at the unconscious man lying on the floor and nodded. “Peter got away.”

  The door burst open with a splintering roar. Both Ian and Cara whirled, ready to fight. Gabe stormed into the room, his body crouched and ready for battle. He slowly relaxed as his gaze darted around the shattered dining room.

  “You guys all right?” Gabe moved behind Ian and untied the ropes holding his hands.

  At the sound of crunching wood, they all tensed and turned again.

  Lucian stepped through the doorway, shoving a battered Peter in front of him. “Look who I found coming out the side,” he said, then took in the disarmed man and woman on the floor. “Gosh, looks like I missed all the fun.”

  Ian knelt beside Cara, touched a nasty welt rising on her forehead. “You could have been killed,” he said around the lump in his throat.

  “What are you doing here, Ian?” Her eyes slid over his face. “You’re supposed to be gone.”

  He held her steady gaze. “I came back.”

  “Did you?”

  “Yeah.” He smiled slowly. “I did.”

  Thirteen

  Police sirens set every dog howling within a two-block radius. Guns drawn, uniformed officers crowded the stairwell, then swarmed into the apartment. Good guys were sorted from bad guys, statements taken, with only a few moments of excitement when Bob woke up and decided he didn’t want to be handcuffed. Fortunately the police convinced him otherwise.

  When the adrenaline pumping through Cara’s body turned her numb, she let Ian lead her away from the garbled static of police radios, away from the rubble that had once been her dining room, and into the quiet of the bedroom.

  He made her sit on the edge of the bed. When she started to protest, he pointed a finger under her nose.

  “Stay here,” he ordered. “I’ll be back.”

  “That’s what Arnold Schwarzeneggar says just before something explodes.” Her sarcasm earned her a smile, but he said nothing, just turned on his heels and left the room.

  When he came back no more than two minutes later, first aid kit and wet washcloth in hand, she was humiliated that he found her shivering.

  “Oh, baby,” he murmured, wrapped the bedspread around her, then sat on the bed and gathered her in his arms.

  “I think there’s a window open somewhere.” The warmth of his strong arms felt wonderful, and she burrowed herself into his chest.

  “You don’t have to be embarrassed, Sinclair.” He rocked her, brushed his lips against her temple. “It’s normal to go into shock after someone points a gun at your head.”

  “I’m not in shock,” she insisted, was furious when her teeth started chattering. “And why do you know so much about guns and what’s normal, anyway?”

  “I know.”

  She went still at the sober tone of his words, then pushed away and looked up at him. “How do you know?”

  He sighed heavily. “I’m not exactly who you think I am, Cara.”

  Her hands were trembling now, and she pulled the bedspread tightly around her. “Go on.”

  “I work for a high-level government agency,” he said evenly. “My assignments are normally out of the country, usually dangerous and always covert.”

  Either she’d been hit on the head too hard or he had. “You mean top-secret?”

  “Yes.”

  He was teasing her, she decided. Trying to lighten a serious situation. “So now that you’ve told me,” she said, forcing a smile, “you have to kill me, right?”

  He didn’t smile back.

  She blinked, looked for the lie in his eyes, but found none. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  It took her a minute to let his words, then the reality sink in. He was a government agent. Undercover.

  Her mind was spinning and she closed her eyes, drew in a slow breath to steady herself. It would explain so much. The gun he carried, his reaction to her when he’d caught her spying on him by the lake, the way he’d handled Bob the hit man.

  It had been there all along, right under her nose. She’d been so focused on her goal, she’d never seen the obvious.

  But she knew she’d missed it for another reason, too, and the truth of it stung. She’d fallen for him, hard, and her emotions had blinded her.

  She felt like a fool.

  “Cairo,” she whispered, and the shiver she felt now had nothing to do with guns or bad guys. “You aren’t going to Cairo for your company. That was a lie, too, wasn’t it? You’re going on an assignment.”

  “Not anymore.” He took her by the arms, turned her to face him. “I missed my briefing. It’s going to get a little complicated, but Jordan is going to have to send someone else.”

  “Jordan?” It took a moment, but she remembered the woman who’d called him at the cabin was named Jordan. “Your business associate?”

  “My boss.” Brushing her hair away from her face, he reached for the wet washcloth and pressed it to the fiery welt on her cheek. “At least, she was my boss.”

  “Was?”

  “I’m going to choose another assignment. One she has no jurisdiction over.”

  Her heart sank. Three times already she’d had to prepare herself for his leaving: at the cabin; their first night in Philadelphia; then last night again. How could she survive a fourth?

  She should be furious at him. She’d certainly earned the right to give him a big piece of her mind. He’d lied to her, deceived her. She should demand he leave right now, tell him she couldn’t stand to even look at him.

  But she loved him. She’d be the liar if she pretended anything else. After what they’d gone through together, she only loved him more. Nothing else mattered. Not that he’d lied, or who he was. Or what he was. To her, he was simply Killian Shawnessy. He was everything.

  “Will you come back?” she asked, hating the pathetic sound of her voice.

  “It’s a long assignment,” he said solemnly. “Very long.”

  “How long?” She didn’t care if it was a hundred years. If he wanted her, she’d wait.

  “The rest of my life.”

  Confused, she frowned at him. “The rest of your life?”

  He nodded. “The thing is, I need a partner. But it’s a dangerous and very risky assignment. I wouldn’t ask just anyone. It takes a very special woman.”

  She had to remind herself to breathe. “What’s the assignment?”

  He cupped her chin in his hand and tipped her face up to his. “Marriage.” There was a slight tremble in his voice. “To me.”

  Her heart, which had felt like lead only a moment before, skipped lightly into her throat. He wanted to marry her?

  If he was teasing, she couldn’t stand it. She swallowed, forced a light tone to ward off the threatening tears.

  “Gosh, I don’t know, Shawnessey. That is dangerous. Does this position come with fringe benefits?”

  “A house, probably. Maybe a dog.” He brushed his thumb over her lip. “But the hours will be long, well into the night, every night.”

  She raised her brows. “Every night? That’s an ambitious assignment, Flash.”

  “Okay, most nights.” He smiled, then sucked in a breath. “And kids, Blondie. God help me, I want kids. You up for the job or not?”

  She hesitated, still uncertain if she were asleep and this was a cruel dream. But the warm touch of his hand on her skin was real, the feel of his body pressed against hers solid.

  He wanted to marry her. Have children.

  A giddiness overtook her, one of those silly, female outbursts that she’d always abhorred. She caught them both off guard when she flew at him, sent them both tumbling to the floor wrapped in the bedspread and each other. Her mouth found his, and she kissed him soundly, deeply, luxuriating in the feel and taste of him.

  “Say it.” She rolled on top of him, pinned him underneath her. “Say it, Flash.”

  He g
rinned up at her. “I love you, Sinclair. Will you marry me?”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, yes, yes. And I love you, too.”

  He kissed her again, deeply, tenderly, and she felt the heavy thud of his heart under hers.

  “I’ve lived alone all my life,” he said carefully. “I thought that was enough, all I’d ever need. And then you showed up, all fire and sass, and you had me hooked from that first day.”

  “The first day, huh?” She raised a brow and smiled. “So you are into tying a woman up, are you?”

  He rolled his eyes at her nonsense. “When you walked out of that bathroom so damn smug, laughing at me with those incredible eyes of yours, I was a goner, Sinclair.”

  His admission took her breath away, and also brought the tears she’d been struggling against. “I think I loved you from the first minute I laid eyes on you, Shawnessy. Standing on that cabin porch, looking like the lone hunter. Daring anyone to invade his territory. You were magnificent.”

  She’d never seen him blush before, didn’t know he could, but there was pleasure in his eyes, as well.

  “I thought I could walk away,” he murmured. “Thought that I’d be able to let you go. I was a fool.”

  Grinning, she brushed her lips with his. “Don’t forget pigheaded and stubborn.”

  He grinned back at her. “I may not be easy to live with.”

  She laughed at that. “And you think I will?”

  He laughed, too. “We’re quite a team, Blondie.”

  “You got that right, Flash.”

  He kissed her as he never had before—with love and a promise for tomorrow. There were details, so many details, she thought dimly as she kissed him back. But what did they matter?

  After all, details were her specialty.

  * * * * *

  eISBN 978-14592-5842-6

  KILLIAN’S PASSION

  Copyright © 1999 by Barbara Joel

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.