Triple Dare

by Candace Irvin

  As she closed the door to Dare’s bedroom and padded down the hall to his guest room, she realized it was. Unfortunately, another realization snapped in as she opened that door.

  Brian was gone.

  She blinked at the tangle of bedcovers, certain she was seeing things. She wasn’t. Nor could she find Brian anywhere. Not in the guest room, its bathroom, the living room, the half bath in the hall or the kitchen. Not even in the room that looked to be Dare’s office. Her brother simply wasn’t there.

  Dare. Shouldn’t he have said something?

  Unless he didn’t know.

  Mount Everest.

  Somehow making love with her had drained Dare of his empathic ability. But for how long? It didn’t matter. They weren’t in the middle of the Gunks. They were in a New York City apartment building. A building with a doorman. Even without Dare’s amazing sense, he could help her track down one sleepwalking brother. She was about to wake Dare so he could help her search when the intercom buzzed in the foyer.

  Jerry.

  She spun around, heading for the two-way speaker that matched hers as the doorman’s hushed voice confirmed what she suspected. Brian had taken the elevator down to the lobby. Her brother was fine, though surprisingly he’d curled up on the lobby couch and fallen into a deeper sleep.

  “I’ll be right there, Jerry. Thanks.”

  Abby grabbed her keys from the foyer table and made a beeline for the elevator. If she was lucky, she’d be back before Dare realized she’d left. But first— She punched the button for her floor, singling out the key to her apartment as the doors slid open. If Brian was asleep, she could take a minute to retrieve the portable motion detector she’d purchased for her place. She should have thought of it earlier, but she’d been too rattled over the thought of how close that butcher had gotten to her brother—twice.

  Heck, she was still rattled.

  She had to be. It wasn’t until she’d stepped inside her darkened apartment that she realized she’d forgotten to lock her door again that morning. Fortunately, her nerves would be returning to normal soon. With Pike dead, every cop in the city had joined Liam Brooks in his search for Zeno Corza. By now the brute was probably in jail or on his way there.

  Zeno was neither.

  Nor had she left the door to her apartment unlocked. Zeno must have jimmied it. Because a split second later, that same door slammed shut behind her, trapping her with the shadowy giant she’d seen beside that limo. And he was wielding that same gleaming knife.

  Her father would have been proud, Dare, too, because she didn’t think. She reacted, tightening her grip on the keys, slicing them up the way her dad had taught her, as the bastard’s fist locked around her left arm. Abby screamed as the knife sliced across her right biceps. A second later the brute’s bellow displaced her own pain as she stabbed her keys into his face, hoping like hell she’d taken out an eye. Either way, his grip loosened. She heard the knife clatter to the floor as she tore away from him and down the hall to her bedroom. She slammed the door shut, locked it and grabbed the receiver to her princess phone. She pounded out Dare’s number.

  Before the phone could ring on the other end, she dropped it as the entire bedroom door shuddered against its frame. Zeno must be throwing his body into it.

  She had to get out of here. Now. But how, dammit? There was only one door.

  And a window.

  A window she knew led directly to the penthouse.

  She’d have to climb if she wanted to live. Because that door was going to give way any moment.

  Abby scrambled across the room before she lost her nerve, not even having to bother throwing the latch on the window. She’d left this portal deliberately unlocked. She shoved the window open and crawled through, terror ripping in as she stepped out onto the ledge. Two seconds later panic seared it off as her bedroom door crashed open. She forced herself to look up and not at the knife-wielding brute bearing down on her as she searched the building’s shadowy facade for the hand-and footholds she’d practiced out on that cliff at the Gunks. But she hadn’t made it all the way up that cliff, had she? Not on her own. Dare had been beneath her, coaching her and encouraging her every inch of the way.

  Only, Dare wasn’t beneath her now.

  Zeno and his gleaming knife were.

  And there was her arm. The one Zeno had already slashed. She was losing blood with every reach she made.

  And weakening with each passing second.

  Chapter 12

  Before Dare even opened his eyes, he knew something was wrong. No, he couldn’t feel it. But that was just it. He couldn’t feel anything, anyone. Brian, the building’s inhabitants, the city beyond, but most of all, Abby.

  And then he heard it. The phone.

  A split second later white-hot terror pierced Dare’s gut, jump-starting his sense. Abby. She was in danger. Dare shot out of bed and grabbed the jeans he’d worn the day before off his chair. He yanked both legs on at the same time, but by the time he hit midzip, the terror had disappeared. Completely, leaving the simmering crush of the building and the city behind. He could feel Brian again, too. Sleeping, but not near. And something else. Someone else. A bastard he recognized secondhand, but a bastard nonetheless.

  Corza was in the building. Hunting Abby.

  So why couldn’t he sense her?

  Ice-cold dread punched in along with the only two possible explanations. The first Dare refused to voice, even in his own mind, much less his heart. The second reason sent him tearing across his bedroom, slamming through the French doors with such force most of the panes shattered. He reached the balustrade of the balcony, automatically zeroing in on the window that led to Abby’s room twenty-five feet below, praying he’d find her clinging to the side of the building.

  He did.

  He caught the shadowy waterfall of her hair, the faint outline of his shirt. He could feel her now, too. She was injured and frantic—because she was slipping. Dare’s horror doubled before he could purge enough adrenaline from his veins to call out with his voice or his essence. There. Breaking the plane of the open window. He could make out the flash of that damned knife as Corza stretched his torso out of the bedroom window, extending arms twice the girth of Abby’s slender neck as the bastard tried to slash her again.

  She was out of reach. Barely.

  And her grip was still slipping.

  Desperate to keep the element of surprise, Dare clamped down on his bellow and whirled about, vaulting across the balcony and into his room. He tore through the master closet, grabbing the first coil of rope he touched. He reached for his stash of steel carabiners, only to remember the few he bothered to keep on hand were still stowed in the back of his Blazer in the parking garage, twenty floors below. There was no time to search for a stray, much less fashion a Swiss seat from the rope to go with it. Dare shot out of the closet, then the bedroom, uncoiling the rope and doubling it over as he reached the cement balustrade of the balcony. For the first time in his life, he’d be going down with a rope—because of Abby.

  It was the only way to save her. As long as he could manage to tie the damned thing off and rig an emergency Dulfersitz in time.

  Abby’s sharp scream cut through him as he accomplished the task with shaking hands. The fresh wave of pain that shafted through her right calf speared straight through Dare’s gut as he straddled the doubled rope before pulling the length up from behind his back, over his head and down across his shoulder. He snapped off a wave of silent assurance, hoping it reached Abby as he swung his legs up over the balustrade. But instead of bounding down the side of the building, he waited. Prayed.

  The moment Corza leaned out of the window for another slashing pass, Dare loosened his grip. Friction ripped along his inner thighs and back as he played out twenty-plus feet of rope to end up on the raw end of a modified swinging rappel that sent the balls of his feet slamming straight down into those beefy shoulders with the full force of gravity and a massive dose of desperation behind them.


  Corza lost his grip on the windowsill.

  Before the thug could curse, Corza was well on his way to losing his life as he went pitching headfirst into the dark.

  Dare didn’t even look down.

  Instead, he kicked off the now-empty sill and swung sideways, snagging a stunned Abby with his left arm and hauling her in close as they swung back toward the window together. Four feet from the window, Dare loosened his grip once more, playing the rope as he hooked Abby’s legs with his. He jerked her calves up with his, slicing both their bodies through the open portal with a precision that surprised even him. He clamped down on the rope as they hit the floor, bringing them to a rug-burning stop just shy of a pair of worn cowboy boots.

  “Impressive stunt, Tarzan. Guess you two don’t need the cavalry after all.”

  Once again, he and Abby moved in unison, snapping their stares up to greet Liam Brooks. There they parted company as Abby dragged her wide-eyed gaze back to Dare’s.

  And promptly passed out in his arms.

  Dare was still holding her when she woke.

  Abby studied the naked muscles cradling her cheek, the familiar, rumpled sheets beneath. They weren’t lying on the floor of her bedroom, however. They were back in Dare’s penthouse. In his bed. She glanced up, losing herself in that dark, mesmerizing stare. A stare that was still missing most of the weight of the world. “What happened?”

  He smiled. “You fainted.”

  She blushed. “That I remember.” Sort of. She lifted her right arm, no longer wondering why her biceps and calf didn’t even sting. She was in Dare’s arms, after all. What confused her was the oversized bandage taped to her biceps and the one she could feel on her leg, rubbing into Dare’s jeans. He’d managed to dress her wounds without her waking? “How—”

  “Shock. I thought it best not to revive you until I got you up here and finished treating your cuts. Thankfully, neither required stitches. Then Jerry called up. Since Brian managed to sleep through all our excitement, I figured you’d want me to retrieve him first, spare him the confusion of waking to it. I carried Brian up and tucked him back in bed. He never even stirred. And there was still Liam Brooks, the police and most of all—” This time Dare flushed. “Most of all, I wanted to be alone with you when you woke.”

  That part she minded least. But what about Brian? She could see the first rays of day breaking beyond the French doors. Doors that were missing huge sections of glass, incidentally. “My brother’s still sleeping?”

  “Yes. And to answer the next logical question, it’s nearly six.” That wry twist she’d come to adore dipped in. “Amazing capacity you Pembrokes have for deep sleep.”

  She pinched his chest. Or rather, she tried to. The muscles were too thick and too hard. She settled for a bit of teasing herself. “Hey, we had a bit of help. And if I remember correctly, you passed out longer than me after our…shower.”

  He sobered instantly. “I know.” Part of his gift must be rubbing off on her, because she could already feel the self-recrimination setting in. “Abby, I—”

  “You saved my life. Again.” She braced her forearms on his chest and scooted up so she could press her lips to his. “Thank you. Besides, if you ever decide to try going to another concert, we know how to prep you.”

  He nodded. Let the guilt go.

  Thank goodness. Heaven knew he had enough inside him. Most of which wasn’t even his. She changed the subject before he could drag another batch to the fore. “You mentioned cops? Liam?”

  “Abby, I neglected to inform you of something. You were worried about Brian and I—”

  She pressed her finger to his lips. “Just say it.”

  “Van Heusen woke. He’s fine. Talking.”

  Stuart was okay? She was happy for the man, yes. Relieved. But what about— The sheet pooled about her as she scrambled to her knees. “The money. Oh, God, what did he say?”

  To her horror, Dare frowned darkly. “Everything.”

  She sank onto her haunches.

  “Sweetheart, it’s not what you think. What either of us thought. There’s…more.”

  “More?” Dare hadn’t even told her what he thought Stuart had done. “I don’t understand. I took the money. How much more can there be?” She licked her lips. “Did Stuart accuse me of blackmailing his mother?”

  “No. And I wouldn’t worry about the money. Van Heusen has larger problems. Starting with the fact that you’re not the only woman Katherine paid off—is still paying off. Van Heusen impregnated a sixteen-year-old while he was in college. She had the child.”

  “Meaning there’s proof he’s not the unstoppable, lily-white mayoral candidate everyone thinks he is.” Dare was right. Stuart had bigger problems than her.

  He nodded. “Through Zeno Corza, Titan uncovered that proof. Used it against Van Heusen to rig a case years ago, before he’d developed his designer drug. Through Corza, Titan used that proof again two weeks ago when Corza forced Van Heusen to sneak into your dressing room at the concert hall to steal hair from your brush. But he had second thoughts. That’s why he was trying to reach you. Why he was there that night.”

  She sucked in her breath. Her shock. Stuart had tried to help her that night? “But why would he give that monster my DNA in the first place? Why would they even need it?”

  But she already knew.

  Again Dare nodded. “Because of me. Liam was right. They only went after you to get to me. According to Van Heusen, Corza was watching the building. He saw me enter your window that first night. He assumed we were lovers.”

  And now they were.

  It seemed the mystery had finally been solved. But she had no idea where the aftermath left her and Dare. Was that all they were—lovers? Or did Dare want more? Did he want what she wanted? Did he want forever? He had to know what she was feeling. That she needed reassurance. Hope. But he didn’t say anything. She swallowed the lump in her throat when Dare turned to the nightstand. He held out a slip of paper as he settled against the headboard.

  “What’s that?”

  “A gift. Take it. Please.”

  She retrieved the slip and unfolded it. “I don’t understand.” She gasped. “What—”

  “It’s a receipt stating you’ve repaid the loan Katherine extended you. See?” He tapped the barely legible signature. “Van Heusen signed it. Liam witnessed.”

  “But I didn’t repay the money. You said not to.”

  He shook his head. “I told you not to.”

  He’d repaid her debt? A million dollars?

  “Why?”

  “Because you needed it.” He shrugged. “I can afford it.”

  She was still trying to grasp that he’d written a check for a million dollars on her behalf. “Dare, how can I ever—”

  “Thank me?”

  She’d been about to say repay, but she nodded.

  “By marrying me.”

  Shock ripped through her. The very best kind. But it was still shock. “Wh-what did you say?”

  He cursed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out like that. It’s a question, honey, not a statement. And I swear to God, one’s not dependent on the other. I just—” He stopped, muttered anther curse, then mumbled something about his lousy conversational skills and fell silent altogether.

  Except he wasn’t really silent. Not inside.

  She could feel the uncertainty churning within him. The apprehension. The flat-out fear. But why? Couldn’t he feel—

  He couldn’t. Adrenaline.

  Dare was terrified she was going to say no. So terrified, there was enough adrenaline flooding through his veins that he couldn’t read the answer bursting from her heart. From her soul. She leaned close and laid her left hand on his naked chest, directly over the tattoo that for years had represented his subconscious hope that he wasn’t meant to go through life alone. Then she snagged his left hand with her right and tucked it beneath the shirt she’d borrowed two hours earlier, sealing his palm to her own bare flesh—to
her own thundering heart—and let him feel her answer.

  Yes.

  The fear shattered. She felt Dare’s joy surge into its place as he dipped his head to claim her mouth, only to stop a millimeter from her lips. He didn’t have to glance at the door.

  “Brian?”

  Dare nodded. “He’s waking.”

  She closed her eyes and swallowed her selfish sigh for the kiss and the shower that would have to wait. “I—”

  “—need to go.”

  She nodded, returning Dare’s teasing smile as the rest of the conversation played out. One he had all the right words for. “Do you mind?”

  “Absolutely.” His grin turned downright wicked. “But it’s purely selfish. And I will get over it—with a lot of one-on-one help from you.” He slid his fingers lower, slowly caressing the curve of her breast. “Hurry back?”

  “You bet.”

  She swung her feet to the floor and stood before she changed her mind. But before she could turn, she caught the longing in that gorgeous emerald gaze, for something else entirely. She held out her hand. “Dare, would you like to join me and meet part of your new family?”

  He took her hand and smiled.

  “Absolutely.”

  Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Candace Irvin for her contribution to the FAMILY SECRETS: THE NEXT GENERATION series.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-7352-2

  TRIPLE DARE

  Copyright © 2004 by Harlequin Books S.A.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.