by Lori Foster
“Right back at you.” She hesitated, voice tentative, and asked, “Speaking of love … what’s going on with you and Cameo?”
Surprised that Mercedes had held off this long without grilling him, Brax grinned. They were close and shared most everything, but never had Brax talked to her about his love life, and never did she ask.
Cameo was different, and Mercedes knew it, but he still wasn’t going to spill his guts to her. “I’ll tell you everything as soon as I figure it out. Now I’ve got to go. Take it easy, and don’t forget to call if you need anything.”
He hung up on her exasperated “Brax,” and gave all his concentration to the bushes on the perimeter of his property. He saw nothing more than a possible flash, maybe of something metal, maybe of nothing at all.
He didn’t take chances, not with this, not with Cameo in the house.
Before he went to investigate, he decided to have a chat with Cameo. She needed to understand what he expected of her, at least as far as security was concerned.
She was still in the shower when he walked into one of the upstairs bathrooms, breathed in the thick steam, and pulled back the curtain.
Head back, water streaming over her bare breasts, she remained oblivious to him.
Brax wanted to curse the bad timing of things. He needed to spend every available moment with Cameo. That’s what he’d intended before Uncle Amos had shown up with a psychotic lunatic likely trailing him.
To him, Cameo looked so beautiful, but it wasn’t just her slender body, her soft skin and womanly allure. It was everything about her—her intellect, her sense of responsibility and honor, her caring nature, and the way she reacted to him both emotionally and physically.
She looked asleep on her feet, basking in the warm caress of the water. It turned him on.
Hell, she could do nothing and he’d be turned on.
“I wish I could join you.”
She didn’t jump as he’d expected her to do. She didn’t even open her eyes. She just smiled. “Why don’t you?”
“Sadly, I have something more important that has to be tended to.”
Those beautiful blue eyes zeroed in on him. “Tell me.”
She showed no modesty, and that surprised Brax more than anything. Not that she had reason to hide her body. He was already hard just looking at her. But she’d always been so circumspect, so modest.
Maybe it’d wait after all …
A thunderous boom shook the house, jarring everyone and everything. Cameo faltered, slipped on the wet tub floor, and would have fallen if Brax hadn’t scooped her in close to his chest.
Snarling a curse, he shut off the shower and snatched up her towel. “Get dressed. Hurry.”
She wrapped the towel around herself with haste. “What was that?”
On his way out the door, Brax said, “That was an idiot, sealing his fate.”
EVEN through the thick smoke and the stench of sulfur, Brax saw that the office was in ruins. Scraps of paper floated in blackened air. Glass from cabinets littered the floor. Plaster dust mingled with smoke.
Amos charged in behind Brax. “What the fuck happened?”
Hands on his hips, seething with fury, Brax used the toe of his boot to nudge aside a chunk of broken pipe. “I’m not going to investigate right now, but I’d say a homemade bomb was somehow lobbed through the opening in the wall. It looks like a powerful firework, stuffed inside a can with sharp debris.”
“Effective.” Amos spoke loudly over the splintering peal of smoke alarms. “My guy is trying to lure us out.”
“It’s tricky, though.” Brax went out in the hall to a central control board and shut down the alarms. Silence fell like a dark curtain of doom. He dropped his tone accordingly. “How does he know we won’t just call the cops on him?”
Still wearing only a towel, Cameo said from behind them, “He’s probably far enough away that he can run if the police show up.”
Seeing her there in the damp towel and nothing more, Brax stared with disbelief. She looked … too damn sexy with her wet hair and dewy skin.
Amos coughed and turned his back on her.
Burning possessiveness crushed Brax’s calm. That she would show herself to his uncle like this infuriated him—until he noticed the trembling of her bottom lip. He had to remember that his world was not the same as hers.
He inhaled a calming breath. “Uncle Amos, why don’t you go get ready before the bastard slips away from us? I’ll join you downstairs in just a minute.”
“Right.” Amos disappeared with alacrity.
Brax saw the shadowing fear in Cameo’s eyes as he approached her. “It’ll be okay.”
Her gaze searched his with incredulity. “Brax, your home was just bombed.”
Damn it, he did not want her to get spooked. If she did, she might not want to stay with him.
And he couldn’t let her go.
With an arm around her, he steered her back to his bedroom. He had little time to spare, but he couldn’t leave her like this. “Let’s get you dressed. Then I’ll take care of everything.”
“I don’t have any other clothes here.”
“We’ll take care of that tomorrow.”
“After you annihilate a lunatic today?” Her raw laugh quivered with trepidation. “Do you really think it’s that easy?”
Giving himself time to choose his words carefully, Brax took her towel, hung it over a chair, and took one of his own shirts from the closet.
“Trusting me should be easy because I’d never harm you, or allow you to be harmed.” As he would a child, he pulled the soft cotton T-shirt over her head and worked her arms through it. It hung on her like an oversized dress, half covering her knees.
“You promise?”
He held her face and made a solemn pledge. “I swear to you, Cameo, I will care for you. Always.”
She slowly nodded. “All right.” Her arms went around him in a ferocious hug. “Go, then. Do what you have to do. But Brax? Please be careful.”
God, her concern touched his heart and made him ache with tenderness. “I’m always careful. Now promise me the same.”
She leaned back to smile at him. Her voice steadier, she said, “I keep reminding you that I’m intelligent, not foolhardy.”
“It’s a fine quality.” He patted her backside. “You look very tempting in my shirt.”
She held out the material. “I’m lost in it, but thank you anyway. It’ll do for now while I dry my hair.”
“Get whatever you need and take it downstairs. The smoke isn’t as stifling there. I’ll come back as soon as I can and then I promise to get everything cleaned up.”
“As your assistant, that’s my job. I’ll make some calls.” Agreeing with a nod, Brax walked with her while she gathered her clothes, her purse, a blow dryer, and a brush.
When they got downstairs, Amos was waiting impatiently at the door. He wore all black and had a leather bag in his hand. “He’s here, I feel it. Let’s go.”
Before Cameo could start asking more questions, Brax kissed her. He touched her cheek, kissed her again—and left without a word. He’d already said what needed to be said.
He’d asked for her trust, so he’d just have to trust in return. She’d be there when he got back.
She had to be.
UNTIL Brax returned, Cameo planned to keep very busy. She would launder her clothes, put on makeup, eat, and make phone calls to repair the damage from the bomb. She would eat up the time with errands to give herself less time to think, less energy to worry.
Nervous about another bomb, she steered clear of the windows as she carried her washables into the laundry room. Along the way, she checked the security monitors. Outside Brax’s expansive home, nothing stirred but an occasional bird.
And still her heart pounded too fast and hard.
With the example she’d been given today, it would be hell loving Brax Jardine. But what choice did she have? Giving him up now would be impossible.
Whe
n the phone rang, it startled Cameo so badly she gasped aloud. Hand to her heart, she went to the receiver, checked the caller ID and then picked up with a smile of relief. “Mercy. Hello.”
“Shh, Cameo, I don’t want Brax to know it’s me.”
“He’s not here right now.” She heard something in Mercy’s tone and went on alert. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
“I’m sure I am, but … I’m having some unusual cramps and it … well, it scares me.” She sniffled, as if fighting tears. “I’m just so emotional lately and I keep thinking that if something is wrong with the baby …”
“I’m sure everything is fine.” As she spoke, Cameo pulled on her wrinkled skirt under Brax’s shirt, stepped into her shoes, gathered her purse, and found her keys.
Normally her first move would be to call Brax. But this time she knew exactly what he was doing, and she hesitated to interrupt him, never mind his staunch rule that Mercy always came first. “What can I do? Where are you?”
“I’m glad Brax isn’t around. I don’t want to worry him, or Wyatt for that matter. I definitely don’t want either of them to see me being such a … a woman.”
On her way to the front door, Cameo repeated again, “Where are you?”
“I’m at my apartment,” she said, and then in a rush, “but I already called my doctor and he wants me to meet him at the hospital. Just as a precaution so he can check things. My cab should be here any minute, but … I don’t want to be there alone … just in case.”
“Of course you don’t.” Holding the phone to her ear, Cameo checked the monitors again and saw that the grounds were clear. There were no bogeymen lurking behind the trees or waiting to pounce on her. “Try to relax. I’ll find you at the hospital as soon as I get there. I’m already on my way.”
“Don’t rush. I’m sure the doctor will keep me waiting for a while. You know how these things work.” Mercy took a breath. “And Cameo? Thank you.”
“I’ll have my cell on me if you need to reach me. Try not to fret. I’ll see you in just a few minutes.” She hung up, unlocked the front door, secured it again, and then hurried toward her car. Brax would be very upset with her for not calling him, but knowing where he was and what he faced, combined with Mercy’s request that he not be told, made her decision easier.
Out of the safety of the house, it took all Cameo’s concentration not to run. But she was afraid that if she did, if she gave in to the fear, she’d be lost in total panic.
Brax was so calm about it all, but for her, dire threats and evil beings were brand-new and quite horrifying.
A breeze stirred the air, dissipating the scent of smoke from the homemade bomb and ruffling the drying tendrils of her loose hair. She seldom wore her hair down, and she absolutely never went out in public dressed so ridiculously, but these were extenuating circumstances.
On her way to her car, she tried to listen for any sounds of pursuit. She heard only gurgling water from the enormous fountain and the rustling of leaves from sturdy branches in tall trees.
After checking the backseat for unwelcome occupants, Cameo unlocked her car and got in. Immediately she started the ignition. Not until she left the long driveway and turned onto the main street did she start to relax.
It was only a ten-minute drive to the hospital, eight if she hurried. Now that she felt secure again, she said a quick prayer for Mercy and the baby. Having no children of her own, her knowledge of pregnancy pains was sorely limited. But one thing was certain—if the doctor said there was a problem, she’d call Brax immediately, regardless of the job at hand. His sister came first with him, definitely before a vile creep.
Her thoughts had just veered to Brax and Amos’s safety, and she was wondering if they had found the man yet, when suddenly an older, slightly beat-up sedan showed in her rearview mirror. Why it alarmed her, Cameo couldn’t say. Maybe because Brax resided in an affluent neighborhood and disreputable cars were seldom seen. Maybe because of everything that had happened that morning.
Whatever the reason, her instincts jangled and fear soured her throat. Swallowing convulsively, her every muscle clenching, she held the steering wheel tighter as the car closed the distance between them.
There was no one else on the road. The grand houses were all set so far back, shielded from passersby with thick, meticulous shrubbery, that no one would see her if the unthinkable happened.
The sedan roared up closer behind her, and Cameo braced herself, unsure what would happen, what she should do.
Suddenly the car lurched forward at full speed. It clipped her back left fender. Cameo tried, but she couldn’t keep the car from spinning out of control.
Her scream resonated within her brain, but never left her tight throat. Before she could draw in a necessary breath, the car careened off the road and collided with a sturdy oak at the end of a very long, isolated driveway.
The air bags deployed with a painful, smothering blast.
Her ribs hurt. Her throat hurt. She tried to slap the air bags away but couldn’t. A trickle of blood trailed down from her forehead. She didn’t even remember hitting her head.
Struggling to get her bearings, Cameo groaned—and the door jerked open. Dazed, sick to her stomach, she turned her head toward the intruder.
A maniacal-looking woman, hair and eyes wild, laughed with glee. “Gotcha!”
Horrified, Cameo tried to shrink back, but she couldn’t. Dizziness pervaded her entire body.
The woman seized her arm in a deliberately painful grip. After cackling another laugh, she backhanded Cameo hard. “Stop squirming around, you bitch. I’ve got you—and I’m not letting you go.” She flashed a lethal blade in Cameo’s face. “Now get your ass out of the car. We have some fun ahead of us.”
Was this the woman who had cut Amos? Was that the same knife she’d used?
Cameo didn’t know what to do. Terror held her in its grip, and her mind refused to function rationally. She had to do something. She couldn’t just go with the woman.
But what?
As the woman yanked her from the car, she tripped and went down on her knees on the hard ground. The jarring pain helped revive her.
Cameo looked around and saw only trees and the occasional entrance to a long driveway. She was on her own here.
That knife flashed in front of her face again, spurring her to instinctive action. She jerked free of the woman’s hold and scrambled back as fast as she could. In the process, she tripped up the other woman as she tried to grab for her.
When a few feet separated them, Cameo jumped up and ran. Her head pounded with every step, but she didn’t slow. She headed back the way she’d come. She hadn’t driven that far before she was forced off the road. If she could just make it back to Brax’s house, she could barricade herself inside. His home was like a fortress.
The woman screamed and threatened her, but she’d be damned before she’d willy-nilly leave with a nutcase bent on torturing her.
As Cameo raced up the road, she prayed for another car to come. She prayed for Brax to somehow know her predicament, to save her. She saw the end of his driveway and pushed harder.
And then she got tackled from behind. She hit the ground hard and felt the knife slice along her upper right arm. It wasn’t a deep cut, more like a thin scratch, but it hurt. And still she fought—until a gun pressed into her ribs.
Her entire body ached.
If Brax didn’t find her, she knew she’d end up dead.
Or worse.
SIX
IT took a little more than half an hour to track their prey. He had moved from Brax’s backyard, but he’d left a trail, and he hadn’t gone too far. Amos had known that the man remained nearby. They found him about a mile away, in the backyard of a mansion, cowering behind a pool house. The fool didn’t realize that once Amos had tuned in to him, his instincts would guide him right back.
Brax motioned for Amos to circle around the yard from the other direction. If the man ran, they’d have to chase him,
and even though the main house was a good distance from the pool, pursuit might draw attention. As long as they trapped him where he now hid, they’d be completely concealed—free to handle matters as necessary.
Together, they closed in, tightening the space around their quarry. Brax saw the sweat streaming down his face and neck. He huddled low to the ground, his back against the outside structure, a gun squeezed in one hand while he ruthlessly chewed his bottom lip.
Brax tipped his head to study him. Fear robbed him of any menace. He looked like any other man, albeit dirtier, more panicked. Few would guess him capable of executing extreme torture on innocent women.
Brax could smell his anxiety, could nearly taste the blackness of his being.
He waited until he knew Amos was near enough to control things, then stepped into the open to draw the man’s attention. The idiot lumbered to his feet but got no farther than that before Brax snatched his control.
He was weak, very weak. Not a nice or honorable man, but did he have the fortitude to carry out immeasurable torture?
Brax had a moment’s doubt.
Motionless, his gun hand held out, the man’s expression froze with austere terror.
Brax said nothing. This was Amos’s kill, and never would he poach on that unless absolutely necessary.
It wasn’t.
Amos moved up to the man with an anticipatory smile.
“How accommodating of you to come looking for me.” He circled the man, each pass sending acrid terror burning through the man’s veins. “What is your name?”
“It’s … it’s Bradley.”
“Bradley what?”
“Bradley Edgers.”
Brax felt the fear accumulating, as did Amos, until it consumed the man’s thoughts.
“You know, Bradley, I’m not used to that type of consideration.” Amos smiled. “Especially from a miserable worm who would hurt innocents. Thank you for making it easier.”
The man wavered on his feet, but he couldn’t fall; Amos didn’t allow it. The man was held in his grip as surely as if Amos had tethered him.
With a look of pure scorn, Amos dropped him to his knees, bowed his back painfully. “But you know, Bradley, you aren’t the only one I want.”