Captive Lies

by Victoria Paige

  The senator came over to greet Blaire and took her momentarily from his arms. Grant spied Sully and Viktor observing the happy reunion. Leaving the women with the senator, he walked over to the Guardians and extended his arm to shake hands with both men.

  “Thanks for getting my girls back,” Grant said gruffly.

  “They almost didn’t need us,” Viktor gave a crooked grin. “Your fiancée kicked ass.”

  “Can’t wait to hear all about it at the debrief,” Sully said. “Your office or the penthouse?”

  “Penthouse,” Grant said. “I want them to feel comfortable.”

  Both men nodded.

  Grant turned around and headed back to his woman and hugged her tightly. “Love you so much, Angel.”

  She stood on tiptoes, kissed him and mouthed, “Love you, too.”

  Blaire and Val finished their debriefing with Sully. Grant was still reeling from what he’d heard, but he couldn’t be prouder of his woman and sister. He didn’t think he could fall more in love with Blaire, but he just did. His woman was a badass. Sully smirked at him as the Guardian packed up the recording equipment. Blaire glanced helplessly over her shoulder as Val dragged her out of the room. His sister wanted to make Blaire her specialty drink.

  “Wow,” was all Grant said.

  “Your fiancée should consider a career change. The Guardians would welcome her.”

  “Not fucking likely.”

  Sully chuckled. “It was kinda embarrassing when our cavalry arrived. We hardly did anything. Our crew chased and rounded up Spencer and his men and retrieved the paintings. Not a single shot was fired.”

  Grant felt a corner of his mouth tip up. “I’m glad she has her old fire back. You heard what happened down in Miami?”

  Sully nodded.

  “Orlov beat the fight out of her and then she lost her best friend.”

  “She just needed that catalyst,” Sully said. “And your sister was it.”

  “I’m so proud of Val, too,” Grant said. “She has been spoiled all her life and she pulled through when it counted.”

  “Adversity brings out the best or worst in people. The best won.”

  They both fell silent for a few seconds in silent agreement.

  Grant exhaled a weary sigh. “What will happen now?”

  “Well, the senator and Viktor are in a meeting with the FBI and DOJ. We’re finding ourselves in a gray area. Legally, Viktor can’t hold Spencer and his crew, so they’re going to charge them with grand larceny, kidnapping, and conspiracy to murder Amelia Thorne.”

  “And the paintings?”

  The other man eyed him warily. “We’ll need Blaire to recover the account numbers.”

  “What will happen to the money?” Grant demanded. “I want it out of our lives as soon as possible.”

  “Our analyst will work on securing the accounts. That money is a culmination of thirty years of organized crime. Drugs, prostitution, arms trafficking—you name it. The agency will freeze the money or put it to better use.”

  “And Yashkin?” The mastermind of it all.

  The other man smiled enigmatically. “Don’t worry about him.”

  They walked out of his office and saw the joviality in the living room. Val was snuggled up against their mother. Blaire was talking to Jake and Tyler, while Colette was busy fluttering about in the kitchen.

  “I’m sure you can’t wait to get back to your family,” Sully said, extending his hand. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Thorne. We’ll be in touch regarding the paintings and if we have any more questions.”

  He gripped the Guardian’s hand firmly. “Thanks, Sullivan. For everything.”

  “Alone at last,” Grant murmured into Blaire’s ear as the last of their bodyguards entered the elevators. His parents and Val left ten minutes before midnight. It had been a stressful, emotional, long-ass twenty-four hours, and he was ready to put the day behind him.

  “Hmm,” Blaire hummed, leaning back against him and resting her hands on his arms that were wrapped around her.

  “Although I’d say,” Grant said. “I’m a bit hurt.”

  Blaire’s suppressed laugh made him grin like an idiot. She turned in his arms and looked up at him. “What has offended you this time?”

  “I’m no longer Val’s favorite person,” he teased. “She couldn’t stop gushing about ‘Blaire this’ and ‘Blaire that’ as if you were the second coming of Christ.”

  “The novelty will pass,” she patted his arm as if reassuring a child. “You’ll be her favorite person again, but I hope we’ve bonded over our shared ordeal for it to be lasting.”

  Grant snorted. “Well, I hope you won’t need something this intense for future bonding.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “My heart couldn’t take it.” His mouth found her lips and they shared slow drugging kisses. After the adrenaline and intensity of the day, he wanted to make slow love to her. They rocked back and forth like lovers in a slow dance with him expertly moving them closer to the bedroom. He lifted his lips a fraction. “Thanks for saving my sister.”

  “She drove the getaway car. In that moment, we worked as a team. We saved each other.”

  The events of the day suddenly overwhelmed him with need, and, with a growl, he pressed her against the wall, snaked his hand under her skirt and found her wet behind her panties. Groaning his approval, his button and zipper were opened in a flash. “I can’t wait to have you. I wanted to go slow, but, fuck, I need to be inside you now.” He freed his cock, lifted her up, pushed the scrap of lace aside and surged inside her.

  “Grant, the bedroom is right there,” Blaire gasped as her legs struggled to find purchase around him.

  “Don’t care,” he buried his face in the glorious skein of her hair as he thrust in deliberate measured strokes, savoring the tight, wet pussy and fighting against the urge to take her hard. She’d experienced too much violence that day, she needed a calmer pace, so he loved her with a gentleness he hadn’t used before.

  “Grant,” she whimpered. “I need more.”

  “No, Angel, let me give you this,” he raised his head to gaze at her. Their breaths mingled as he teased her with the smooth glide of his cock as he rocked her against the wall. He moved inside her for long minutes, the build to their climax slow, until they came together in a sigh of emotions. Faith overcoming uncertainty, courage overcoming fear, and love overcoming all.

  46

  Blaire

  It was early November and the leaves turned bright yellow and burnt orange. The grass had lost its vibrant green and had begun to fade to brown. Fall’s sunlight dappled the marble gravestone with specks of gold. I wasn’t sure why I was there. It had only been a few weeks since Liam’s funeral, but the doubt Agent Wilkes planted in my head compelled me to visit Atlanta.

  The stark letters on the headstone slashed my heart, but it held together because I was stronger. I sat beside the plot and stretched out my legs, picking at the twigs and leaves that had littered across it.

  “Well,” I said gruffly. “Here I am checking to see if you’re still dead.” My voice cracked. “I would hate you because you put me through such grief, but I would forgive you in a heartbeat if you’d just show up right now.” I took a few moments to suppress a rising sob. “Anyway”—I held up my ring as if to show him—“I’m getting married this spring. I know, I know, you told me not to be easy, but have you met Grant?” I snickered as if it was an inside joke. “Truth is, I love him, Liam, and he loves me. He can be too much and crazy protective.” I let out an irritated breath. “All right psycho protective, but after everything I put him through, I can’t blame him. If he’d been in the same danger I was, I would be a nutcase too.” The sun moved and I closed my eyes, tilting my face up and enjoyed the warmth on my skin for a minute. I lowered my head and cracked my eyes open. “You’d be proud of me. I was afraid I’d lost the will to live after the number Orlov did on me, but all I needed was time and Grant’s love to show me I had a lot of fight left in me. The thing with
Orlov was only the tip of the iceberg. So many things have happened since then, but the gist of it is … your girl is scott-free.”

  Footsteps sounded behind me.

  “My girl.”

  I smiled and turned to look at Grant. He accompanied me to the graveyard. I’d asked him to give me a few minutes alone with Liam. He walked over to me now and held out his hand. “Ready to go, baby?”

  “Yes.” I smiled as he pulled me into his embrace. With his arms still wrapped around me, he stared at Liam’s headstone. “I’ll protect her with my life, Liam. Count on it.”

  It was a bittersweet visit. Liam made it possible for me to have a full, normal life with Grant. I wouldn’t let my friend down.

  As Grant and I cleared the cemetery gates, I looked at the man I loved and looked forward to days and years ahead of us.

  Thank you, my friend.

  47

  Cam Murphy

  For a few days now, Cam had blended into the shadows of Chester Square in London. It was an affluent neighborhood decked with rowhouses made of warm-hued limestone in an Italian baroque style. Arched entrances were lit with cast-iron lanterns. But he wasn’t here to admire the architecture; he was here for one of its residents.

  Ivan Yashkin was a man of habit. He rarely left his house nowadays because he’d made enemies everywhere. He’d gone from one of the most powerful men in Russia to one of its most maligned. He took money from the mob and other Kremlin bureaucrats, thinking he’d have twenty-six billion to buffer the investments he’d made for them. He was one of the masterminds who wanted the U.S. financial market to crash but, without the money from those lost accounts, he had no buffer, the investments tanked, and he lost everything.

  Still, Cam considered him a threat. With this third chance for a new life, he would clean up the loose ends he’d left with his last one. He was no longer Liam Watts nor was he Lucas Myers. Leaving Liam behind was necessary. He’d tortured and eventually killed a dirty FBI agent who had the final pieces of evidence necessary to bring down Orlov and the ROC. In his rush to get Blaire back, he’d become sloppy. He’d realized his mistake too late and a tenacious FBI agent—a friend of the one he had killed—had linked all his aliases together. But Liam had been offered a second chance by AGS and, by extension, the CIA. The agency couldn’t actively operate in the homeland so they strategically placed some of their agents undercover with local first responders. What happened to Amelia Thorne had exposed the missing piece in the AGS investigation into the shakeup of the oligarchy and its plot against the United States. One of his crew during the Orlov sting was working for Viktor Baran—the AGS top man. He’d been given a shot of a life-saving drug by another undercover agent who worked as an EMT, the same one who covered him with a white sheet, so no one would notice any signs of life until the scene was completely processed. The drug jump-started his heart but kept it at an almost undetectable rate while preserving organ function. It was rarely used because agents have come back with no brain activity or brain-damaged. Luckily, as far as Cam was concerned, he was mentally stable, if not a bit homicidal.

  From there he was whisked by a fake coroner and kept at a CIA medical facility; all paperwork and records doctored to show that he had died. The only regret he had was that his daughter buried a body that wasn’t his, but it was for the best. He also regretted putting Blaire through agonizing grief. He’d been conflicted, wanting to let her know that he was alive, but Blaire had come back from her experience from Orlov a stronger woman. And maybe, just maybe, letting his broken wren fly was the right thing to do. He’d been teaching her survival skills for two years, preparing her for a life without him. Maybe Liam was holding her back in a co-dependent way and he needed to cut the ties.

  So he kept away.

  Movement at the front door of one of the row houses caught his attention. His prey had emerged.

  Ivan Yashkin would die today.

  International Business Wire

  Ivan Yashkin, CEO and owner of Yashkin Global Enterprises, died in a freak car explosion while leaving his home in Chester Square. London authorities are still investigating the cause of the incident. Witnesses report they heard a boom and saw a vehicle go up in flames at the corner of Elizabeth Street and Chester Row. Foul play is suspected. YGE is a Russian energy company specializing in the exploration, production, refinement, marketing, and distribution of oil and gas with subsidiaries involved in mining and speculative research in technology. There’d been rumors of recent financial difficulties stemming from charges of fraud and money laundering.

  Epilogue

  Grant

  Grant pulled the Escalade in front of Blaire’s log cabin. Thanksgiving was in four days and they’d decided to spend some time together locked away from the world before they joined his family in their Vail mountain home.

  He could feel Blaire’s excitement and anxiety. It was like a homecoming of sorts for her. She hopped out of the car and stared at her house.

  “Go on inside,” Grant urged. “I’ll bring the stuff in.”

  She shot him a dazzling smile before moving up the steps. He walked to the rear of the vehicle and lifted the tailgate of the SUV. This week was about them. It was easy to head out into parts unknown, but this place held a special meaning. They’d come without bodyguards. They’d left the luxury of their Manhattan and Boston residences behind. They were simply Grant and Blaire.

  He lifted their suitcase and her little carry-on and loped to the cabin. The news frenzy about their engagement had died down, but their wedding next spring was sure to ramp up interest again. Blaire suggested eloping, much to the horror of his mother. He didn’t want to put too much pressure on his woman, but Grant wanted to have a big wedding. He’d admit to male pride. He wanted to declare to the world that Blaire was his.

  Possessiveness surged through his veins as he dropped the suitcases to the floor. Every muscle and pulse was already responding to the idea that they were alone, no one could hear her when he made her scream with pleasure and he could fuck her to his cock’s content without their security intruding. He was already in full predator mode by the time Blaire switched the circuit breakers on and returned from the kitchen to the living room where he stood motionless.

  “Well, I’m glad your brief stint in B&E didn’t mess up this place,” Blaire teased, still unaware that he’d already gone through several filthy images in his head of how he wanted to fuck her. Lately, she’d been wearing dresses that hit mid-thigh. She called this particular one a tunic dress. Grant called them easy-access clothes. Her tall soft boots that came up above her knees only added to the sexiness. His mouth was already salivating at the thought of spreading her open and burying his face between her thighs. His dick hardened behind his jeans, but anticipation was half the pleasure, so he watched her some more as she made her way to the farm table. She crouched beside it to straighten the tassel of the rug. When she stood and turned to look at him, her eyes widened, and her lips parted on an inhale. She finally realized she was about to get ravished.

  “Uh …”

  He stalked toward her. “No morning sex and it was a six-hour plane ride, baby. You know me enough by now that I aim to be buried inside you first chance I get.”

  “Grant …” she whispered on a shaky laugh. “The place needs some dusting and airing out.”

  He crowded her against the kitchen wall, his hands slipping under her dress.

  “Later,” he murmured against her lips as his fingers went behind her panties. “Your pussy needs some eating.” He delved into her tight heat, groaning at how her slick inner muscles gripped him. “Fuck, you are ready.” He dropped to his knees, his hands sliding up the back of her thighs squeezing the globes of her ass, before he gripped the edges of her panties and tore them down. He heard her gasp and he smiled against the dress right above her pussy. He inhaled her arousal through the fabric. Grant slid a hand back down her left leg and lifted it over his shoulder, and with the other, he tossed her skirt up and dove right i
n.

  She cried out as her back arched, forcing her pelvis out and practically shoving her core into his mouth. He growled in approval and devoured her wanton offering. Blaire moaned, burying her hands in his hair as her juices gushed right onto his greedy tongue. When she came down from her high, he stood up and released his aching cock. He hoisted her into his arms and without further warning, plunged inside her.

  He pounded her mercilessly against the wall. Grant had tempered his lovemaking those past few weeks, giving Blaire and him a chance to experience their love without the desperation and angst brought about from nearly losing her twice. This time his need was brought about by the instinct to possess, to claim, and to mark. He rooted deeply and she squirmed and gasped.

  “Oh!” she whimpered.

  He growled, pulled out, and thrust in hard.

  “Ah! I’m gonna come again,” she cried out. When her muscles clenched around his dick, Grant lost his mind and started rutting like a beast, grunting, snarling, his thrusting sliding her up and down the wall.

  She screamed and pulled his hair as he continued moving inside her. He came and groaned into her neck, staying embedded inside her while keeping her pinned until the last tremors of his release left him.

  “I love wall fucks,” she murmured against his ear.

  He smiled against her skin.

  Blaire

  After Grant spectacularly fucked me against the wall, he lowered my legs to the floor and held me steady. I didn’t think I could hold myself up for a good few minutes. He led me to the couch, stripped off the cover, sat, and pulled me across his lap. He continued nuzzling my neck as we recovered from our carnal activity. This vigorous coming together was long overdue. Grant seemed to know when I needed gentle and he definitely knew when I needed him to take me with fierce possession.