Never Coming Home

by Evonne Wareham

  All he could do was what he did. Keep her safe. That was his job. He didn’t have a shred of doubt that what was in this fucking envelope, that was right now burning a place in his chest, was going to lift the game to a whole new level. He rubbed his hand across his mouth. Better go and find out – and pray that he had enough in him to deal with it.

  He shoved away from the wall and went inside.

  It was a small office. Probably belonged to the housekeeper, from the lists and rotas pinned to the wall.

  Devlin wedged a chair under the door handle, testing the fit, before sitting down and taking out the envelope. He weighed it in his palms. Heavy. Rossi had done a good job. He fingered the seal, reluctant. For a second he let his hand drift over to the cell phone in his pocket, wondering if he could raise Bobby or if the guy was still AWOL. Oh, for fuck’s sake, Devlin. Let’s just get this done!

  He slit the seal, letting the contents fall out onto the desk. Paperwork. Phone and credit card accounts, bank statements, even copies of property deeds. Elmore’s life, in paper. Devlin scanned them, whistling softly before pushing them back into the envelope. They would take time to study.

  Which left – another envelope.

  The muscles of his back tensed. He ducked his head and undid the flap.

  He left the photocopied report alone, fanning the photographs onto the desk in front of him.

  It took a full second for his eyes to make sense of the shapes and colours. Then the bile rose in his throat, thick and acrid. He didn’t need the printed dates and locations to tell him this was a crime scene.

  He closed his eyes, then forced them open again. The thing in the photographs had once been a woman. A young attractive woman; Giuliana, Jeff Elmore’s girlfriend. Now she was meat, barely human. The slashed and peeled flesh had him swallowing hard. And that was nothing to what had been done to the child. She would have watched her boy die, before her own long, slow agony.

  Cursing in a flat monotone, Devlin crammed the pictures back into the envelope, away from sight, only to tip them out again a moment later. Rossi was right, Kaz should never see these. The police had spared her the grim details. She mustn’t get them from him.

  Quickly he assembled what he needed. The ashtray was on the windowsill, the matchbooks, bearing the logo of the hotel, stacked on the shelf. He tore the photographs in half, then in half again, before putting them to the flame, watching the grotesque images curl and burn.

  When all that was left was a pile of soft, clean ash, he scattered it out of the open window.

  He gathered up the envelopes and dragged the chair from the door, half-formed promises of revenge and atonement beating in his skull.

  Jeff Elmore had been scared.

  Munroe had been scared.

  Now Devlin knew why.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Bobby scanned the building, frowning. He was at the right address. Just across and down a way from the multi-storey car park where he’d left the car. He’d found that easily, following the PA’s instructions. Lowest floor, spaces specially reserved for O’Hara’s company. That was impressive enough, but this place, where the meeting was scheduled, looked disappointingly ordinary. Not what he’d imagined for his get-together with O’Hara. A nondescript office block, in some town that he’d never heard of, on the edge of Heathrow. The man had seemed more like the hotel-in-Mayfair type. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. Come on, what did you expect – 5 stars, and the guy swinging in with Scarlett on one arm and Keira on the other?

  The PA had been quite clear. It was probably like a tax thing, having a place out of town. This meeting was with the money, accountants and stuff. For that you needed an office. This was business, big time.

  Bobby yanked at his unaccustomed tie. He’d had to buy the damn thing and it was just about choking him. Now he remembered why he always shoved Devlin, kicking and screaming, into the meetings that needed the suited-and-booted stuff. The dude did that buttoned-down look so much better.

  Most clients didn’t give a shit about the Hoag laid-back style of doing business, which no way involved a suit and a tie. If they were that bothered about what the hired help looked like, they could go hire someplace else. But occasionally, with some, you did need that little bit more. He’d figured O’Hara for one of them, which was why Devlin should have been here.

  For this his partner was going to pay, and pay good.

  There was a brand-new cell nestling in Bobby’s pocket – they called them mobiles over here – and if he’d been able to remember Devlin’s frigging number, he’d have rung him, to tell him about the debt he was running up.

  Bobby cursed softly. He didn’t even have that satisfaction. Shit – you lost a phone and you lost, like half your frigging life – phone book, speed dial. Of course, he should have known Dev’s number. Getting lazy. Sloppy. A wake-up call to sharpen up. In the old days he’d never have relied on a mess of plastic and micro-chips to do his thinking for him. As it was, it was going to take hours to reprogramme all that crap, not to mention the numbers of all those babes that he’d never get again. Some lowlife kid was probably going down the list right now – and he was standing on the sidewalk waffling inside his own head.

  Truth was, although he’d set up the deal, just like he’d set up a hundred others, he’d kind of relied on Devlin being around to help him close it. Mr Cool, he just looked the business. Impressed the hell out of the suit-and-boot clients, all that silent menace stuff.

  Well, tough shit. Devlin is in Italy, chasing after his woman – which in itself is a pretty weird concept – and this deal is gonna be done, and Bobby Hoag is going to do it. So get your butt in there.

  Bobby straightened his shoulders and gave the tie another yank. Showtime. Pretty soon he was going to have a whole new list of babes in that brand-new phone – Hollywood babes!

  Devlin was back in the courtyard. The envelope was safe in the car, buried deep in his overnight bag. His gut was settling, but he didn’t want to go in just yet. He scraped one hand through his hair and then the other, making it stand on end. He had to forget what he’d seen, what he knew, before he could face Kaz. He had to get things straight in his own mind, before he could think of telling her. And if he told her, would she even want …?

  He flattened himself against the wall as a door at the back of the hotel opened and a maid emptied a bucket of water into an outside drain.

  Devlin leaned into the cool stucco, concentrating on the pattern that was emerging in his mind. It seemed too incredible to believe. What he was groping towards chilled his blood, but he just couldn’t see what else –

  He thumped his palm against the wall. He needed to run this by someone. To find out if it still sounded just as crazy when you said it out loud. He’d got used to kicking things around with Bobby.

  The thought had him reaching for his phone.

  It went straight to voicemail.

  Swearing under his breath, Devlin gathered his thoughts. ‘I don’t know where the hell you are Hoag, but it had better be a good one. Call me as soon as you can. As soon as you get this.’ He hesitated. ‘Rossi came through with some stuff.’ He glanced round, eyes sharp. ‘Looks like Luce isn’t as dead as everyone thought he was. And he hasn’t lost any of his skill with a knife.’

  Bobby stalked into the murk of the multi-storey car park, where he’d left the car. His shoulders were hunched, his stomach seething between fury and panic. He couldn’t fucking believe it! He’d come to the wrong fucking place! Cold sweat dripped down his spine. He wanted to hit something. He’d made a stupid, stupid mistake. Right now O’Hara was sitting waiting someplace else, ready to close the deal with Bobby Hoag … And Bobby Hoag was stuck in some fucking parking lot, at the back end of nowhere.

  He stared around, trying to locate his car. Maybe it wasn’t too late to fix this. He dragged the piece of p
aper with the address out of his pocket. If he could just figure out …

  He stared at the paper, squinting in the dimness of the parking lot. The overhead lights were out and the lowest floor, this one, seemed to have been dug into the back of a hill. He didn’t remember it being this dark when he drove in. But then he’d been buoyed up and buzzing, ready to get to the meeting. He turned the paper until he could make out the words. The address wasn’t wrong. He’d checked it twice, got the girl to spell it out for him. And the place existed, as he’d written down. He’d just been there. Except O’Hara could never have had an office there, because the address that he’d copied and checked was the local police station.

  Fury of a different kind powered through him as realisation dawned, making him see red. He hadn’t fucked up. He’d been set up. The whole thing was an elaborate scam. He’d fallen, like a prize asshole. Let himself be sucked right in. Hollywood megabucks and movies stars! Christ, was Devlin going to laugh, or what?

  He stopped. Why would someone –

  The slight sound of a footstep behind him made him turn, so the first blow missed connecting with the back of his head. Instead the padded cosh cracked down on his shoulder, breaking bone, sending him to his knees.

  The second blow tumbled him into the dark.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Her hair clean and dried, Kaz sat down on the bed, wondering where Devlin was. She shifted uneasily. Could he have taken off again? There was nothing at all of him here. The few articles scattered around the room were hers. Devlin had turned up yesterday and they’d spent the night in the place he’d found near the vineyard. He’d never even been in this room

  She gathered her knees up under her chin, rocking slowly, gradually relaxing. She didn’t have to worry about it. Her mouth curved slightly. She’d forced herself not to be reliant, not to expect anything. And then, when she needed him, there was Devlin.

  He’d just been there. Waiting outside the police station, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Even when he’d left her before, and gone back to the States, he’d been putting all that information together. About Jeff.

  She shivered. She wasn’t going to think about that now. Or analyse what it meant that Devlin had come for her. She would simply be grateful that he had. It didn’t have to mean anything at all.

  When she’d recognised him outside the Questura and realised she didn’t have to go out alone to a grave site in the corner of a quiet field …

  Her lower lip quivered. She controlled it ruthlessly. She couldn’t look back, and she wasn’t ready to look forward. All she could do, for the present, was be. Minute by minute. She stared into space, watching dust motes dance in a column of sunshine, slanting in from the window.

  Devlin’s knock made her start. She slid off the bed and went to the door. He looked pale, eyes smoky. The line between his brows was more deeply etched. She put out her hand to draw him in. Pushing the door closed, she raised her arms to his neck, resting her head against his chest. They stood like that for a while. Then Devlin stroked his hands down her back.

  ‘We have a couple of hours yet, before we have to get to the airport. Do you want …’ His voice faded. She could feel him holding himself together. Puzzled, she ran her hand over his chest, probing the tension of muscles held rigidly under control.

  ‘I want whatever you want,’ she said cautiously.

  ‘Right. Good.’ The way his breath exhaled made his chest rumble under her ear. She snuggled in, inhaling him, comforted, content to stay, until something happened. They could both just be, for a while.

  Devlin dipped his head, nuzzling his face into her hair. She was warm and real and she had nothing to do with pictures of tortured flesh. He shifted to hold her more tightly. He’d been out of it too long. Once he’d been able to wade through that sort of crap without being touched. But this …

  Mothers, and children. Lost children.

  He thought of his own mother, then stopped. No need to go there.

  ‘What is it?’ Kaz must have sensed a change in him. She tipped back her chin to look up into his face. He just shook his head, dumbly. She shifted her hands until they were splayed at his hip bones. Abruptly the tension dropped out of his shoulders. He studied her neck, and the scoop of rosy skin revealed by her slim-fitting cotton top. There was a sweet spot, just there, at the curve … he could taste it already, on his tongue. He bent his head …

  Kaz let her head drop back, enjoying the kiss. The feel of this man’s mouth was something she was never going to tire of. He’d relaxed, muscles smoothing out under her fingers, holding her, just poised, against him. His lips whispered up over the length of her neck, to find her mouth, probing gently until her whole body was humming with it. Her whole body. Shivers. All over.

  When he picked her up and deposited her on the bed it groaned and so did she. The creak, when he knelt beside her, made his eyes widen. ‘Christ, is this thing going to hold?’

  ‘I don’t care.’ She was laughing, pulling him closer. He could feel her smile on her mouth and it went through him like a drug. His lips moved on, her jaw, her chin, the tiny soft cleft of dimple. She wound her arms around his neck, still smiling, welcoming him into her warmth.

  The bed hadn’t collapsed. Miracles still happened. Kaz was lying sideways across it, Devlin sprawled half on top of her. His eyes were shut, but he was grinning. Kaz felt a proprietary glow. She’d put that grin there. With a groan he flopped onto his back, eyes still shut.

  Kaz leaned over to look at him. With guilty indulgence she examined his body, drinking the perfection as well as the flaws. There were a few. Most of the skin on view was mouth-wateringly firm, smooth and slightly tanned. Everywhere. All over. Hmm.

  There were silver, puckered lines of old scars, visible above the elbow and just under the rib cage, and another high on the thigh. Kaz winced. That had to have caused a few moments of panic. She shook her head. She wasn’t going to think about how the marks came there, of the blows and the pain. Devlin was here, warm, breathing. Reality was out there, on the perimeter, stalking, but she wasn’t letting it in here. She traced the curve of his hip. Warm, sexy. A man’s hipbone as an erogenous zone? Who knew?

  ‘You keep doing that and we’re not going to make that plane.’ His eyes were still shut. His voice sounded hoarse. Obediently she removed her hand. With a groan Devlin found it and moved it back again. Not quite in the same place.

  What she could see of the room was spinning. And dark. In the late afternoon? It took a second to realise that her hair was all over her face. Pulling in the deepest breath, she raised herself on one elbow, scooping curls out of her eyes.

  ‘Damn, but you’re good at this!’

  Devlin’s eyes were closed and he was flat on his back again. He raised a hand in acknowledgement. ‘Ditto, sweetheart.’

  ‘Have you ever –’ She stopped, shocked at what she had been about to say. How could her mind even go there?

  ‘Have I ever –?’ Devlin prompted. He’d found a pillow from somewhere and propped it at his back. The rest of them were on the floor.

  ‘It’s nothing.’ She knew her face was flaming. ‘Doesn’t matter. Stupid.’

  Her hand fluttered. Devlin caught it and kissed the knuckles. ‘Have I ever done this as part of my job?’ he supplied softly.

  Kaz shook her head, appalled at the way he’d read her mind. ‘I have no right to ask that sort of question. I shouldn’t even have thought it.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because … ’ She was floundering. Devlin had turned her hand to kiss the palm.

  ‘You can ask, Kaz. I might not always tell you, but you can ask. We do this.’ He glanced around the tumbled bed. ‘I reckon that gives you the right to want to know things.’ He hesitated. He was still holding her hand. ‘Yes. I have had sex as part of the job. Not often. I wasn’
t pretty enough for the honey-trap stuff. Thank God.’ He shrugged. ‘And not recently.’ His mouth quirked. ‘These days any of that stuff is down to Bobby. He adores the ladies and they adore him right back, so there’s no harm done.’ He leaned against the headboard, exhaled. ‘I can’t believe that I’m sitting here, naked, talking about Bobby Hoag’s sex life.’

  Kaz smiled. ‘You’re fond of Bobby, aren’t you?’

  ‘Don’t know if fond is the word.’ He grimaced. ‘I’ve got used to having the stupid asshole hanging around.’

  ‘Will I meet him?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Devlin thought about it. ‘Yeah. Why not?’ He shrugged off the bed and began to gather up crumpled garments. ‘You want first shower?’

  ‘We could share.’ She could see that the hopeful look in her eyes almost convinced him, before he decided that someone had to be the tough guy around here. ‘Uh – not if you want to be on that plane. Go on. Shoo –’ He handed her a bundle of clothes, as she scooted off the bed.

  ‘Kaz.’ She paused in the doorway to the bathroom. His eyes lingered on her silhouette, then up to her face. ‘You want to know anything, you ask.’

  Kaz turned on the shower and stepped under it, soaping herself absently as her mind wandered. Her body was still vibrating. She raised her arms above her head, luxuriating in the warmth of the water.

  Devlin was an incredible lover. Whoever amongst his bosses had decided that sex wasn’t his metier – well, it certainly wasn’t a woman. Hell, the man oozed sex appeal from every pore.

  She paused to let the thought develop. No one could be that stupid. Devlin hadn’t been called on to play the seducer by his bosses, because he simply wasn’t good at it. She knew it as clearly as if she’d been told. He wouldn’t play those sort of games at someone else’s bidding. She stifled a smile. Devlin knew plenty about seduction, but for him it would be something personal and private. There was a guardedness about him. An inner core that was the real man, something she suspected that had its own morality, its own sense of decency. That core was his and his alone. Devlin didn’t share it, didn’t share himself. And now he’s let you reach in and touch some of that part of him, just brush your fingers over the edge. And told you that you can have more.