Triple Dare

by Candace Irvin

  She didn’t get it.

  His ragged breath bathed her throat as he dragged his mouth to her ear, filling her with his voice instead of him. “Abby, I—” She felt him swallow, pull his air in deep. Then he started again. “This isn’t a good idea.”

  Wrong. This was a great idea. The best he’d had all morning. Instead of arguing, she turned her head and answered the need still burning within her. His entire body quaked as she brought her mouth back to his, deliberately trailing the tip of her tongue along the scar on his bottom lip—slowly, sensuously. Soothing, tasting.

  He caved in to her brazen invitation with a groan and captured her mouth once more. Three glorious, molten moments followed, and then he tore away. This time he dug his fingers into her shoulder, using the leverage in his arm to wrench her firmly several inches away from him. He held her there as he sealed his mouth to her ear, his ragged breath searing in along with his plea, “Honey, we have to stop. It’s too dangerous.”

  He was right.

  She struggled to find her own breath as she nodded. “Okay. Let’s get down from here so we can finish.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.” His breathing slowed, began to even out as he shifted against the rope, the narrow ledge. He pressed his forehead to hers. “We shouldn’t be doing this at all. Not out here. It’s not safe. I—” He broke off. “Damn. I did not want to do this today. Let alone here.” He broke off again, but this time to draw in a deep, steadying breath. “Honey, I know you don’t understand, but you will. Soon. It’s just…I can’t think when we’re this close. I can’t feel. Not anyone else. Just you and me. Us.”

  But that was a good thing, right?

  Before she could question him, he stiffened. Cursed. Before she realized what had happened, Dare had shoved her into the side of the cliff, covering her body with his. She groaned as her forehead accidentally connected with rock. To her shock, his hand snapped to her mouth, sealed it. Panic blistered in. She was about to jerk away when she heard it.

  Saw it.

  A mother of a boulder. It was ricocheting down the cliff—straight for them.

  Before she could loose her scream, Dare clamped his hand tighter and pushed them both out of the way—straight out from the side of the cliff. Nausea surged as they swung back. But before she smacked into the rock, Dare twisted his entire body, taking the brunt of the impact along his left side as the boulder bounded safely past them. Though she barely heard his terse grunt, she knew the blow had to have hurt like hell, because his arms were trembling.

  And his feet were no longer hooked to that narrow protrusion of rock.

  She ignored the taut, groaning rope. “Are you—”

  “Shh.” His harsh whisper slashed through her. “The bastard’s still up there.”

  Bastard? What? Who—

  Good God, no!

  Dare nodded as he released her mouth. She craned her neck instinctively. She could see the upper ledge of the cliff, but that was it. She couldn’t hear anything either, not even the birds. Was that it? Was the eerie silence telling him something? That she could understand. But how could he possibly know someone was up there? The boulder could have been knocked loose from a higher level up the stepped side of the quartzite wall. And then she heard them.

  Footfalls.

  Terror grabbed her as the rhythmic thumps drew closer, breaking just above the distant rustle of leaves. Memories of the other night crashed in. Her brother getting smashed into the limo’s window. That gleaming knife. The scarlet puddle Officer Ryder had escorted her past. That poor driver’s glassy stare. She shuddered even as Dare finally relaxed.

  “It’s okay. He’s gone. He must have wanted it to look like an accident.”

  Because he didn’t cut the rope.

  Dare didn’t say it. He didn’t have to.

  The knife slashed into her brain once more and this time it refused to leave. What if Dare was wrong? What if that monster hadn’t left? What if he was lying in wait, just as he had with Stuart, lulling them into a false sense of security so they’d come up? By the time Dare cleared the ledge that knife would be slicing in.

  “Honey? Did you hear me? You can relax. I need you to let go of me so I can climb up—”

  “No!” She grabbed Dare’s arm, digging her fingers into his bicep as she buried her face into his chest. “Don’t.”

  That bastard had already killed one man because of her, and Stuart, she knew because Dare had called the hospital before they left, was still hanging by a thread. She couldn’t let anything happen to Dare. She wouldn’t. Even if that monster didn’t have a knife, he could have another boulder handy. What if Dare let go of her and the rope and it came crashing down?

  “Please, don’t go.”

  “Hey, now. It’s okay, I promise. He’s gone.”

  She swore she could feel Dare pleading with her silently as well, trying to soothe her. She ignored it. She ignored him.

  She had to.

  “Sweetheart, please. You have to let me go. I’ll climb up, then pull you up. It’ll be quicker.”

  She shook her head and clung harder.

  “Abby, look at me.” His tone brooked no argument.

  She obeyed.

  “The man is gone.”

  She shook her head. “You can’t know that—”

  “Yes, I can. I do. You have to trust me.”

  She wanted to. But how could she?

  To her horror, Dare tightened his grip on the rope with one hand, then reached behind his back with his other to peel her arm from his torso. But instead of letting go, he tugged her palm to his chest and sealed it directly over his tattoo.

  His heart.

  “Honey, I’m certain he’s gone…because I can’t feel him anymore.”

  Zeno eased up on the gas of his rent-a-wreck Jeep, allowing the Blazer to ease completely out of sight. There was no need to speed up. He’d only risk exposing himself, especially since he knew exactly where his mark was headed.

  Sending a boulder down the cliff had been a lousy idea.

  Thankfully, it hadn’t been his.

  But this new plan? Hell, he’d even called the boss and run it past him, just in case. The boss had agreed. It was perfect. Guaranteed to split up the lovebirds. Then he’d get to drag out ol’ Sally and go to town on one he’d been given permission to kill. And leave the other for the boss.

  Chapter 10

  He should have told her when he had the chance.

  Dare braced his forearms against the balustrade of his balcony and stared down at the city through the lengthening shadows of late afternoon. He didn’t need to turn around to know Abby still lay on his bed in too deep a sleep to turn from the position he’d placed her in four hours ago.

  He was still kicking himself over that sin, too.

  It had started out innocently enough. After all, the time might have come for him to bare his soul, but the Gunks sure as heck weren’t the place. Not given the situation they’d been in at the time. Even after he’d managed to extricate himself from Abby’s terrified arms so he could scale the cliff and pull her up, he still had other priorities. Namely, her safety. While he hadn’t sensed the bastard, he was also reluctant to stake Abby’s life on his suddenly intermittent curse. It had failed him too many times around her for him to risk it.

  So he’d lied.

  A lie by omission, true. But a lie just the same.

  Namely, he hadn’t corrected Abby when she’d assumed he was relying on some highly honed outdoorsman’s sense. And then he’d deliberately held her hand all the way to the car. Yes, he’d done it to steady her shaking footing as well as to ease her fears. But he’d also taken advantage of the contact to suggest to her over and over that she shouldn’t fight the natural exhaustion that followed a massive flood of adrenaline. By the time they’d reached the interstate, she was all but snoring softly against his side in the front seat of his Blazer. A quick call to Jerry as they reached the city and he hadn’t needed to wake her
to bring her inside the Tristan. The doorman had left the service elevator unlocked enough times in the past for him and Charlotte. No one had seen him carry Abby into the lift at the rear of the parking garage. From there, it had been a straight shot into his apartment.

  He’d never even considered leaving Abby at hers.

  After that boulder incident, he had no intention of leaving her alone again. Not even if she walked out on him. He might not be sure how he’d manage that, but he would. Either way, he sure as hell wouldn’t be kissing her again until this was over.

  That kiss.

  He was still trying to absorb it. Kissing Abby had been all he’d known it would be and more. It was the more that scared the hell out of him. He’d known that by climbing even that short a cliff, his sense would be dulled, but since there were no throngs of city-goers around to further mask an intruder’s presence, he hadn’t been worried. He should have been—but for a completely different reason. That kiss. For a moment there, his essence had merged with hers so completely, he’d forgotten where they were. What they’d been doing. Worst of all, he’d forgotten about the looming threat. He could have easily gotten Abby killed for the sake of one passionate encounter, however mind-blowing that encounter had been.

  There would be others, dammit. He had to believe that. But only if he kept his distance long enough. Only then could he keep her safe.

  He had to tell her. There was no other way.

  Abby had to know who he really was. What he was. Most of all, she had to understand what she was capable of doing to him. Perhaps then she’d understand that he didn’t want to distance himself from her, he had to.

  Just do it. Wake her. Tell her. It was the only way.

  His resolve strengthened, Dare pushed off the balcony and turned his back on the city, taking in Abby’s slender form as he reached the French doors leading to his bedroom. He nudged the doors open, drawing her essence in freely as he entered the room. She lay on her side, curled into his dark gray pillow, the silken rope of her hair tangled in her hands. He stopped beside her shoulders to extricate the braid and tuck it behind her back, taken as always by her serene beauty as she slept. Unable to stop himself, he drew his gaze to the bow of her lips, mesmerized by the sound of her breath washing in and out. In many ways the gentle rhythm mimicked the cleansing effect she had over his soul whenever she was this near.

  And when he touched her?

  Dare clenched his fingers against memory, lest he cave in to the urge to renew that sweetest of sensations again. Here. Now. He slipped his gaze down the lithe curves of her body, struck with how fragile she truly was. It was easy to overlook, given the steady strength of her spirit. He could only hope that spirit was as forgiving and accepting as he prayed. Dare opened his mouth to rouse her and find out—and froze.

  Someone was near.

  A man. One whose essence he’d never met before. He couldn’t be sure of much more, due to the distance as well as to the oversized pictures he’d hung along the walls of his living room—specifically for the glass that covered them. Whoever the man was, he was still in the main elevator, approaching Abby’s floor. Why hadn’t Jerry buzzed up a warning? Unfortunately, there was no time to find out. Dare turned away from the bed, heading down the hall and out into the living room as the lift violated the buffer he’d established on the nineteenth floor. By the time the elevator reached the penthouse level, Dare had reached his apartment door. He still had no idea who was on the other side, but he did know the man wasn’t seeking Abby.

  His uninvited and unannounced guest was seeking him.

  Dare opened the door a split second before the bell chimed. Feigned surprise filled his guest’s dark-brown gaze—but not his aura as the man pulled his oversized paw from the buzzer. Dare sketched a smile he didn’t feel as he stared up into a set of dark, clipped features that were a dead-on match for the description Abby had given Pike the day before.

  “Detective Hook, I presume…or not.”

  The guy flushed. An intriguing sight, given the man had a good two inches on him. He nodded. “Good evening, Mr. Sabura. I apologize if I’ve caught you at an inconvenient time. By the way, don’t bother firing your doorman. I badged my way up.” The man withdrew a black bifold wallet from the inner pocket of his suit jacket and passed it over.

  Dare swallowed a curse as he studied the credentials within. It appeared the one man he’d been trying to reach on the phone these past two days had deigned to pay him a visit…after scaring the hell out of Abby. He tossed the badge back. “Special Agent Brooks, I’m sure you’re aware there’s penalty for impersonating a New York City detective, even for a member of the FBI. And then there’s that pesky offense called theft.” The cognac glasses, the magazine. The flicker of guilt Dare felt proved Brooks had taken them—without a warrant.

  The agent returned his nod with a cool clip of his own. “I’m aware of the penalties. Just as I’m sure you’re aware that, while what you do for a living isn’t technically illegal, some of the ways you and your associate accomplish your goals are…questionable at best.”

  Touché.

  “So, where do we go from here, Agent Brooks?”

  “Your living room?”

  Not his preferred option.

  The man might not be after Abby, but she was still asleep in his bedroom. She’d suffered another serious shock this morning. He didn’t need her waking and finding this gorilla in his home, especially when he’d yet to get a decent read on the agent’s intent. On the other hand, according to his father’s sources with the New York police, Brooks was reputed to be the one man who might be able to provide him with information concerning that designer drug as well as the thug who’d attempted to inject it into Abby. The need to protect her drove Dare into his own apartment. He swept his hand toward his dark-brown leather couch set and glass coffee table.

  “Have a seat.”

  “Thanks. I’ll stand.” But Brooks did enter.

  He took his time, however, openly casing the entranceway and beyond as he walked the perimeter of the sparsely decorated living room in a subdued stroll more suited to a Sunday in the park—or a deserted museum. Brooks paused to study the five-foot-tall-by-three-foot-wide, black-and-white blowup of the photo Dare had taken of the Limestone Pinnacles outside Guilin, China, three years ago, then moved on to an equally oversized shot of the haunting cliffs that framed the entrance to Norway’s Sognafjorden. The man passed a five-by-five-foot landscape of Victoria Falls taken from a Zambian vantage, before coming to a complete halt in front of the panoramic shot resting at the edge of the cream carpet, propped up against the wall. Figures. Dare had decided to rotate that particular photo back into his collection three days before, but hadn’t yet gotten around to hanging it.

  Dare waited none too patiently as Brooks hefted the oversized frame, appearing to admire the snowy peak commanding center view as the guy turned to face him. That dark, razor stare sliced up, straight through him.

  “Mount Everest, right?”

  “Yup.”

  “You climbed it when you were what? Sixteen?”

  “Seventeen.” And again at twenty-nine. Shortly after 9-11.

  He’d have scaled a cliff to the moon that year if one had been available. Everest had been the best he could do.

  Brooks tipped his head back toward the final black-and-white hanging on the wall. “That last one. That’s Mount Kilauea, isn’t it?” The man waited, Everest frame still in hand. That damned obscuring slice of glass covering it, between them.

  Why?

  Surely he didn’t know…did he?

  Impossible. Yes, the man was FBI. And, yes, based on the agent’s visit with Abby, Brooks had probably read that police report along with his juvenile record, even though the damned thing was supposed to be sealed. But the glass wasn’t in there. He might have been stupid enough to confide his curse to Pike’s partner all those years ago, but he’d been smart enough not to reveal the existence of his surcease, as well as his Achilles�
�� heel, much less its source.

  “Well?”

  Dare frowned into the man’s stare. “Mauna Loa. Kilauea spews her lava on the southeastern slope. Speaking of which, I presume you’re ready to spew whatever it is you came here to say—or are you waiting for me to serve up a couple of aperitifs along with the current copy of National Geographic? If so, let me save you the trouble. I rarely drink and never with strangers.”

  That stare remained steady, piercing. “Yeah, I heard that about you.”

  That gave Dare pause. Hell, even Pike hadn’t burrowed that deeply into his background this quickly. Perhaps Brooks did know. Either that, or the agent was hellishly lucky. Because that blasted glass-encased photo was still in hand, firmly centered between them, shielding the bulk of Brooks’s emotions from him. While Dare’s receptors were picking up the faint whisper of feeling seeping about the edges of the glass, the result was more frustrating than revealing, taunting his inner sense with a ghostly impression he couldn’t quite focus on.

  “What do you want, Agent?”

  “Answers.”

  “Then start posing the damned questions.”

  Before Abby woke—

  Too late. She’d begun to stir. Great. If Brooks kept this waltz up much longer—

  “What do you know about genetics, Mr. Sabura?”

  Genetics? This was about the drugs, then?

  Dare relaxed, though not by much. “I know about the DNA narcotic and its instant addictive quality, if that’s what you’re referring to. I also know the drug in the syringe used to inject Van Heusen was originally intended for my neighbor, Abigail Pembroke. Detective Pike stopped by the symphony last night and filled the two of us in. It appears, however, that you and Pike are not on speaking terms, since Pike had no idea you’d already shown up at Abby’s apartment and interrogated her.”

  Brooks didn’t bother feigning embarrassment over his less-than-by-the-book procedures. Dare caught the man’s shrug over the top of the Everest frame. “To be honest, my sources in the NYPD informed me that Pike was slightly biased when it came to you. I needed objectivity. However, I’ve since informed Pike that I was by here yesterday. He won’t be bothering Ms. Pembroke again regarding the phantom Detective Hook.”