by Elisabeth Naughton, Alexandra Ivy, Cynthia Eden, Katie Reus, Laura Wright, Skye Jordan
He paused at the corner of the garage. The air was icy, but the snow had stopped and the moon had come out. Which was the only reason he’d managed to see the open window. Now he used the silvery light to ensure there was no hidden enemy waiting to ambush him. Once he was confident there were no lurking assailants, he jogged directly toward the open window and silently pulled himself into the house.
Instantly he was forced to choke back a cough as a cloud of smoke hit him in the face.
What the hell?
Taking a quick glance around the shadowed room he realized that someone had started a fire in a trashcan placed next to the Christmas tree. The same someone who was even now bent over as he shook a square can.
Holy shit. The intruder was dousing the room with gasoline.
Not taking time to think of the danger, Dylan rushed forward, grabbing a rug to wrap around the trashcan so he could grab it and toss it out the window. Hitting the snow, the flames were swiftly doused.
Using his momentum, he turned and ran straight toward the dark figure who’d dropped the gas can and was scrambling toward the front door.
“Oh no you don’t,” he growled, tackling the intruder from behind.
They landed with a painful thud, the man below him taking the brunt of the impact as Dylan made sure he ended up on top. Even then he continued to press down on the surprisingly gaunt body, bracing his feet against the floor to give himself leverage.
“Let me go,” the mystery male whined, his voice deliberately frail. “You’re hurting me.”
Dylan grimaced at the sight of the nearly bald head and deeply lined face. Still, he wasn’t fooled by the pretense of feebleness. The man might be scrawny, and older than Dylan had expected, but there was a wiry strength in his body.
The most dangerous enemy is the one you underestimate.
“Listen carefully.” He spoke directly in the man’s ear. “I’m going to put a bullet in your head if you don’t do exactly what I say, when I say it. Got it?”
The man desperately tried to roll Dylan off his back. As if he actually thought he might be able to get away.
Idiot.
Dylan waited for the intruder to wear himself out. At last realizing he was well and truly caught, the man glared over his shoulder.
“You have no right.”
“Actually I have every right,” Dylan assured him without hesitation. “I’m an FBI agent.”
The man gave a predictable gasp. “FBI?”
Dylan smiled. There were few people who wanted to deal with an agent. Not even if they were innocent.
“Yep.”
There was a short pause as the man frantically tried to come up with another way out of the shitload of trouble he was in.
“I wasn’t doing anything wrong,” he at last muttered.
Dylan gave a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, right. Nothing but setting the house on fire.”
“No. You got it all wrong,” the man insisted. “I’m a neighbor. I was passing by and noticed a fire. I was trying to put it out.”
“A neighbor?” Dylan taunted, wondering how the fool was going to explain the fact that he’d been tossing gasoline around the house.
“Yes. Edgar Donaldson,” the man babbled. “Just ask Meg if you don’t believe me.”
Dylan scowled. The name was familiar. But why?
With a grimace Dylan rose to his feet, grasping the man by the arm. “A good idea,” he said, yanking the man upright. “Let’s ask her.”
“Ow. I’m an old man,” the intruder groused, clearly determined to be a pain in the ass. “You’re going to break my arm.”
Reaching beneath his jacket, Dylan smoothly pulled out his gun, pointing it between the man’s eyes. He wanted to beat the bastard until he confessed why he’d been harassing Meg. Unfortunately, his position as an agent meant that he couldn’t pound an old man to a bloody pulp.
That didn’t mean, however, he couldn’t have a little fun.
“Remember what I said about a bullet in the head?” he growled. “Keep struggling and—”
“No. Please don’t shoot,” the man broke into Dylan’s warning, his body trembling with a sudden fear. Good. A terrified suspect was always easier to handle. “I’ll go wherever you want.”
Keeping a ruthless hold on the man’s arm, Dylan slid his gun back into its holster before he was dragging the man out the front door and toward the garage. In the moonlight Dylan realized the intruder was even older than he first thought.
Christ. What would prompt a man who could be a grandfather into threatening a young woman?
Neither spoke as Dylan hauled him up the stairs, but as Dylan tapped on the door to alert Meg he was back, he leaned forward to whisper in the man’s ear.
“One wrong move and you’re dead,” he murmured.
A second later the door was yanked open to reveal Meg, who’d pulled on her clothes and twirled her hair into a messy bun on top of her head.
“Dylan, thank God,” she breathed, then her gaze shifted to the man standing at his side and her eyes widened. “Edgar? What’s going on?”
“I found this bastard in your house, tossing gasoline around to try and spread a fire.”
Meg took a horrified step back as Dylan thrust his captive over the threshold and shut the door.
“It’s out,” he assured her, glancing toward the sweating Edgar. “Thankfully he’s completely incompetent.”
“No, I was trying to put it out.” The man lifted a hand toward Meg only to abruptly drop it back to his side when Dylan sent him a warning frown. “You know me, Meg,” he instead pleaded. “I’ve always been a friend.”
Meg gave a shake of her head, clearly not believing his whiny words for a second. “Why?” she rasped, glaring at the man who was gaunt enough to look like a skeleton, with the yellowed teeth of a longtime smoker. “Why would you set my house on fire?”
“He’s lying,” Edgar muttered, flecks of white forming at the corners of his lips. Dylan grimaced. Christ. The man was literally foaming at the mouth. “There’s no proof.”
“No proof?” Dylan yanked the man around, forcing him to meet his glare. “What do you want to bet I find your fingerprints all over the gas can? And that I can match your footprints to the ones I found when I chased off the intruder earlier tonight.” The man’s face drained of color and Dylan pressed home his advantage. “I’d also bet that once I do a search I’ll find you recently purchased a disposable phone and spray paint that you used to vandalize Meg’s shop.” He allowed the words to sink in. He wasn’t entirely certain he could trace the phone and paint to the bastard, but most people assumed the FBI was omnipotent. “All enough to charge you with breaking and entering, arson, and attempted murder.”
“I…” The man’s words trailed away as he suddenly turned his head to glare at the silent woman standing in the center of the room. “Dammit. This is all your fault.”
Meg flinched before she was squaring her shoulders and glaring right back at her crazy-ass neighbor.
Dylan couldn’t deny a stab of pride. Although she’d been terrorized over the past months, she hadn’t run. Or given in to her fear. Hell, she’d managed to start a business that would soon be thriving.
He’d known she was intelligent, and driven to create something of her own. She’d often spoken of working for herself when they were together in Vegas. But now he was seeing her courage.
She was going to make a hell of a wife and mother.
“Mine?” she demanded in disbelief. “How could it be my fault?”
A sullen expression settled on the narrow face lined with wrinkles. “Why did you have to come back?”
Meg wrapped her arms around her waist, her chin tilted to a stubborn angle. “This is my home.”
“You were supposed to stay in Vegas.”
Dylan frowned. This wasn’t just one of those hermit-types who didn’t want a neighbor. Or a creeper who enjoyed stalking women.
There’d been a deliberate purpose and m
ethod to his madness. The phone calls, the vandalism, and finally the fire tonight.
“You didn’t want her in Holly,” he accused.
Edgar hunched a shoulder, still glaring in Meg’s direction. “First I tried to buy the house. If you’d just accepted my offer, none of this would have been necessary.”
Meg shook her head. “I don’t understand. If you wanted to buy the house why didn’t you just approach me in person?”
“I didn’t want anyone to know I was interested,” he muttered.
Dylan narrowed his eyes, watching as the man turned his head to the side, no longer meeting Meg’s gaze.
He was hiding something.
But what?
“When she wouldn’t sell, you started harassing her,” he said, carefully watching the man’s every twitch.
Edgar licked his lips. “I just wanted her to leave.”
“You slashed her tires? And broke into her house? And spray-painted her shop?” Dylan demanded.
“I thought if I scared her enough she might go away. I didn’t want to have to hurt her.”
Meg made a small sound of frustration. Obviously she was torn between relief that they’d at last discovered who was responsible for troubling her, and confusion at why a man she’d no doubt known most of her life would go to such lengths to get rid of her.
Dylan resisted the urge to cross the room and pull her into his arms. Right now he couldn’t afford to be distracted for a second. Until the sheriff arrived, he was responsible for making sure this man couldn’t hurt Meg any further.
“You still haven’t told me why,” she said.
Edgar shifted his feet, pretending to sway in an effort to break free of Dylan’s grasp. Instantly Dylan dug in his fingers, pressing hard enough to make the idiot flinch in pain.
“I wanted the house,” the man finally said, sending Dylan a frustrated scowl.
There was a measure of truth in his words, but he was still hiding something. Suddenly Dylan sucked in a sharp breath, struck by a sharp realization.
Now he remembered why the name Edgar Donaldson seemed familiar. Meg had mentioned him when they were standing in her basement just a few hours ago.
“No, you wanted something in the house,” he said, glancing toward Meg. “You remember you told me it was Edgar here who bricked up the door?”
“Door?” Edgar gave a short, grating laugh. “What door? I don’t know anything about a stupid door.”
Dylan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The older man might as well have admitted that there was something suspicious in the cellar.
“He did,” Meg slowly agreed, her brow furrowed as she tried to put the pieces together. “Do you think he put something down there?”
“I do,” Dylan said.
Meg’s eyes widened, her hand lifting to press against the center of her chest. “Oh my God. The new furnace. The workmen were going to open part of the wall to run the ductwork,” she breathed.
Dylan gave a nod of his head. “That would explain why the bastard escalated from phone calls and vandalism designed to get rid of you, to actually trying to sneak into the basement. Obviously he hoped to get out whatever was down there before it was discovered, but we kept interrupting him,” he murmured, speaking his thoughts out loud. “Tonight, he reached the point of desperation and tried to burn down the house.”
Meg shuddered, her face pale. “Why would he keep something hidden in my grandmother’s house?”
Dylan debated the matter for a long moment, considering the various reasons a man of Edgar’s age would go to such lengths.
“I doubt it’s a treasure, so my guess would be a body,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “Did anyone go missing around that time?”
Meg’s brow furrowed even as Edgar stiffened, assuring Dylan that his wild guess wasn’t so wild. Dylan tightened his grip, reaching to pull his gun out of its holster. If the bastard tried to attack Meg he was going to shoot him in the ass.
At last Meg sucked in a sharp breath.
“His wife,” she said, glancing at Edgar in horror. “I remember Gran talking about how shocking it was that the woman would just up and leave.”
An approaching siren suddenly echoed through the room. The sound seemed to steal Edgar’s hope that he could somehow talk himself out of his inevitable fate. Lifting his arm, he waved a fist in Meg’s direction.
“I didn’t have any choice,” he rasped. “I had to get rid of the body and your grandmother wanted her cellar sealed up. It was the perfect solution.”
“What kind of monster kills his wife and hides her body?” Meg breathed.
The older man hunched his shoulder. “The bitch deserved everything she got.”
“And now you’re going to get what you deserve,” Dylan assured him, glancing toward Meg who looked like she was going to be sick. No surprise. She’d been living in a house where a dead body was hidden. That would unnerve anyone. He needed to get her away from the nasty creep who was responsible. “Why don’t you go get the sheriff so he can get rid of this trash for us?”
She gave a short nod, inching her away around them so she could pull open the door and hurry down the stairs.
Slumping in defeat, Edgar gave a shake of his head. “It wasn’t my fault. She wouldn’t listen—”
“Only a bully blames his victim,” Dylan interrupted, his voice thick with disgust. “You were a coldhearted brute to murder your own wife, and a spineless coward to hide the body in the home of a helpless old woman.” A smile twisted his lips. “Thankfully you’re about to pay for your crimes.”
Before the man could respond, the apartment was abruptly filled with the sheriff as well as his deputy. Dylan happily handed over his prisoner, promising to visit the sheriff’s station along with Meg the next morning to give his eyewitness account.
Within half an hour Edgar had been whisked away in handcuffs and Dylan was finally alone with his woman.
He held out his arms, his heart filled with a soul-deep pleasure as she walked forward and leaned against his chest. Instantly he wrapped her in his warmth, fiercely relieved she hadn’t hesitated.
Resting her head on his shoulder she heaved a shaky sigh. “It’s over.”
Dylan buried his face in her curls, hope for the future making his heart soar. “Actually, it’s just about to begin.
* * *
The Parisian hotel offered a stunning view of the Eiffel Tower, along with being located close to the Champs-Élysées. The perfect place for Meg to give Dylan his Christmas present.
A smile touched her lips as she slipped the chic black dress over her head and wrapped the belt around her waist.
It was her suggestion that they spend Christmas at an exotic location. After all, her grandmother’s home was now a crime scene. And if she was honest, she was happy with Dylan’s plan to build a new home on a plot of land outside Holly that would offer her plenty of space to construct her greenhouses. Dylan, meanwhile, had agreed to be a consultant for the FBI, as well as his friends at the ARES Security firm. It would mean some traveling, but there was no reason she couldn’t eventually hire someone to help at the shop so she could go with him.
The future was brighter than she ever dreamed possible.
Tonight, however, was all about the past. Or at least, Dylan’s past.
And the fantasy that he’d had as a young boy.
With a last glance to ensure that her hair was smoothed into a neat bun at the base of her neck, she stepped into the five-inch pumps and left the hotel room. Moving down the hushed elegance of the hallway, she paused as she reached the top of the curved staircase.
Her heart came to a breathless halt as she caught sight of Dylan standing on the bottom step.
Dressed in the tux that she’d had waiting for him in the room, he had his long hair brushed back and his face freshly shaved. He still looked dangerously male, but with a hint of sophistication.
Gorgeous.
Holding his gaze that’d darkened with intense male appro
val, Meg slowly walked down the stairs, ignoring the admiring male glances that came from the guests who filled the nearby lobby.
As far as she was concerned, there was only one man she wanted to impress.
It’d been that way since the moment Dylan Cain had entered her life.
“Hello, handsome,” she murmured, placing her hand on the arm he held out. “Do I know you?”
“Bond,” he said with a smile that filled her with joy. “James Bond.”
Author’s Note
I’d like to take a moment to thank all my lovely readers. I never forget that it’s because of you that I can follow my dream and I never take your support for granted. I’d like to offer all of you a special wish for a happy holiday season filled with love, peace, family, and wonderful books!
About the Author
Alexandra Ivy is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Guardians of Eternity, as well as the Sentinels, Dragons of Eternity and ARES series. After majoring in theatre she decided she prefers to bring her characters to life on paper rather than stage. She lives in Missouri with her family. Visit her website at alexandraivy.com.
Books by Alexandra Ivy
GUARDIANS OF ETERNITY
WHEN DARKNESS ENDS
May 26, 2015
ISBN: 9781420125177
DARKNESS ETERNAL
March 31, 2015
ISBN: 9781420138979
HUNT THE DARKNESS
May 27, 2014
ISBN: 9781420125153
ARES SERIES
KILL WITHOUT MERCY
December 29, 2015
ISBN: 9781420137552
BAYOU HEAT SERIES
BAYOU HEAT COLLECTION ONE
July 19, 2013
ISBN: 2940148435235
BAYOU HEAT COLLECTION TWO
November 2014
ISBN: 2940149957668
ANGEL/HISS
ISBN: 9780986064173
MICHEL/STRIKER
June 9, 2015