Killer Secrets

by Lora Leigh

  Kira was watching Tehya's eyes as he said it, saw the terror that flashed inside them. She had courage, but she was smart enough to know what she was getting herself into.

  "I'll do the vid," he continued. "We'll take her to a secured safe house, record it, and send it to Ascarti via Colombia," he mused. "We'll give him a short timeline. Make him react quickly."

  "He's not far from Ascarti," Tehya said then. "Wherever Ascarti is, you'll find Sorrell close. But if you snatched Ascarti he wouldn't come running."

  Ian nodded slowly as he turned back to Reno, his eyes narrowed, the air around him pulsing with danger. "What kind of probables have you run?"

  "We checked out the names she gave us of those who tried to help her. They were dead. Deaths were by torture. They died hard and likely gave Sorrell everything they knew. It fits with his particular MO. Evidence we've gathered about his network suggests it was his personal handiwork. No one knows torture in his organization as well as he does. We know he's indeed French, Tehya's mother was of French descent. Reports on her death suggest that she hadn't been in Nicaragua more than a few weeks when she was snatched from the street. There were a few witness reports, but you know how sketchy local law enforcement is there. It was dropped within hours; only the notification and questioning of witnesses was kept until her body was found."

  "Her name was Francine Taite. She was the daughter of a French industrialist driven to bankruptcy after her kidnapping. They died before my birth. She was kidnapped and sold, according to the information she gave the nuns, though she never gave his name. Thirteen years after her disappearance as a child, she was dumped out of a dark sedan on a dirty street in Nicuragua. She had been raped. Her fingers shattered, the soles of her feet had been burned. She died slowly," Tehya recited, a frown marring her brow as she seemed to stare off into nothing. "She was tiny, delicate. I remember her crying. I never remember her laughter."

  She seemed to shudder as Kira moved to Ian's side. His arm went around her naturally, pulling her to his side, feeling the pain that worked through her as Tehya turned to Reno. "I'll require a weapon. I won't let him take me, Reno. It stops here. Either he dies, or I do."

  Reno nodded slowly.

  "We need to get this together and get moving on it, before Sorrell figures out what's going on," Ian said. "If he's never more than a step or two behind her, then he knows she's been here watching me. It could be the reason he fired a missile at me rather than a gun on the last attack. Do you have a safe house in mind?"

  "Right here." Reno grinned. "She's been here since the night Kira moved out. All we need to do is get this vid made and shipped out and wait for the response. We have everything set up. We were just waiting for you."

  "Fucktard," Macey muttered as an aside.

  Kira watched the grin that tugged at Ian's lips. Evidently tonight wasn't the first time Ian had heard that particular insult. He stared around at the other men. "First chance I have, I'm telling your women you left them to play on the beaches in Aruba. Fitting punishment, I think, for driving me crazy with that sniper rifle you've had trained on me for the last two weeks."

  "Best telescope I own." Macey snickered. "Felt it, did you?"

  "Every time you stroked the trigger, I felt it, Macey," he growled.

  "Should have shot you," Macey grumbled. "Dumb fuck. You should have let us in on the fun. You're just plain selfish, Ian. I've always said that about you."

  Ian pulled Kira against his side. She felt the warmth of his body, the strength, the steady confidence. "You have no idea. Remember, the next time you train that telescope on Kira, I'll shove it up your ass."

  Macey winced, but the tension that had filled the room began to dissipate.

  For the first time in eight months, Ian felt the camaraderie, the sense of teamwork that he had relied on for so many years.

  And in his arms, close to his side, he felt the center of his soul. He had avoided the acknowledgment, tried to deny it, fought to push it away. But as he stared at Tehya Talamosi, and saw a woman alone, fighting to live in the face of a monster, he realized how very similar he had once been to her.

  Kira had filled that part of his soul. The part that had been empty and alone. The part that had fought to live even though the danger of the monster had passed. And he prayed that Tehya would find it as well.

  * * *

  Twenty-three

  SHE HAD NEVER IMAGINED WHAT kind of life Tehya had endured.

  Kira slipped into Ian's room from the balcony, barely glancing at Deke as he rose from the chair by the bed as she escaped to the bathroom.

  She felt sick inside. She knew Tehya, she had met her in France nearly six years before. They had had coffee as Kira watched a French diplomat sell classified documents to a Russian agent. They had spent the weekend shopping, laughing, and being girls. Two strangers in a strange land, and Kira had never guessed the danger Tehya had been in.

  She had suspected her to be a rival agent. For a while Kira had wondered if she were an assassin or part of a kidnapping team. But the other girl, though distant, her eyes often shadowed with pain, had never mentioned anything that Kira could have used to fuel her suspicions.

  She had met her again in Afghanistan working with the Red Cross. Again in America, once again working with the Red Cross, just after Hurricane Katrina. She'd had no idea the hell the girl was living through. Damn, she'd had no idea how young she was or what she was searching for.

  Safety. Protection from a monster. The identity of the monster. Why hadn't she put it together?

  Kira slammed the bathroom door closed. Why hadn't she figured out that the kid was in trouble? Hell, she hadn't even known she was a kid. It was those eyes. Those wild, shattered, haunted eyes. She couldn't have been more than seventeen the first time Kira had met with her in France. Kira had assumed she was another agent. She had played the game when the girl had sat down at her table, leaned back and smiled and asked if the chair was taken. A very inexperienced agent. But Kira had played the game because all she was there to do was watch and make certain the exchange of information was completed.

  God. Damn. Information targeted to Sorrell.

  In Afghanistan, Tehya had worked with the Red Cross. The CIA had suspected the terrorist cells there to have ties to Sorrell.

  Hurricane Katrina. Sorrell had used the devastation and chaos there to raid several government offices. Kira had tracked two of his men there and coordinated with the small team she had gone in with as they attempted to apprehend them.

  Sorrell's men had not only escaped, but had escaped with classified files regarding several federal investigations into a terrorist network they had uncovered.

  Tehya had been there.

  The day she was leaving she had spotted the girl outside those offices, staring up at them, her eyes narrowed. As though she had known she was being watched, her gaze had found Kira's, locked with it, those haunted eyes shadowed and desperate.

  And Kira had misread the desperation.

  She lowered herself to the small cushioned chair in the corner of the opulent bathroom and pressed her fists into her eyes.

  She had just watched that same girl endure being chained to the wall, dressed in nothing but her T-shirt and panties . . .

  Terror had flashed in her eyes as Antoli Kovalyov chained her securely before pulling the black mask over his face. He had jerked her head back roughly by her long red hair, cupped her neck in his hands, and stared at the camera.

  "We have your daughter, Sorrell." His hand had left her neck, gripped her hips with enough force to redden the skin, and jerked her around just enough for the camera to pan in on the birthmark. "As you can see, she carries your mark. You want her, you will now deal with Fuentes."

  The camera had panned back to her face. Defiant, her eyes riotous with fear and fury, Tehya had glared at the lens with murderous rage.

  God. She was nothing more than a kid. A kid that should have been in college, laughing with her friends, partying too much mayb
e. Kira fought the monsters in the world so kids like that would be safe, and she hadn't even noticed a child in danger when she had met her.

  The bathroom door opened slowly. She heard it. She knew it was Ian, but she couldn't lift her head, couldn't take her fists from her eyes or, God help her, she would cry. And tears wouldn't help anything. It sure as hell wouldn't relieve the pain and fear Tehya had experienced.

  "It will be over soon and she'll be safe." She felt Ian kneel in front of her, one hand pushing her hair over her shoulder as the other cupped her face. "It's not your fault, Kira. You can't save the world."

  She sniffed, feeling like a child, like she had felt the morning her uncle had awakened her and told her that her parents were gone. She felt lost. And she felt responsible.

  She shook her head.

  "When my mother and I were running from Carmelita Fuentes all those years ago, I apologized. I told my mother how sorry I was that she was suffering because of me. That she should contact Diego. Tell him about me, and give me up so she would be free."

  Kira lowered her fists, the first tear falling from her eyes as she glared back at him. "That wasn't acceptable."

  A small smile tugged at his lips. Lips she loved to kiss, loved to feel on her flesh.

  "She said pretty much the same thing. She said we can't save everyone, but we can damned sure as hell fight to save those we love. And she loved me. She would die for me. She nearly died." His tobacco gaze darkened, grew fiery. "But she taught me something, Kira. She taught me that we can only do our best. You've done your best. Tehya survived, and God willing, she'll survive this along with the rest of us. But you can only do your best, not beat yourself up because you missed something or someone. It makes you weak. And you can't afford to be weak right now."

  His fingertips stroked down her cheek as he stared back at her, his rough-hewn face creased into lines of concern as his lips drew her gaze again.

  "I should have known." She shook her head as another tear fell and pain roughened her voice. "It's in her eyes, it was in her eyes then, and I didn't pay attention. She was right there in my face and I didn't see the child she was, or the desperation in her eyes."

  "Did you see it in mine?" he asked her then. "Every time I saw you—"

  "You got horny." She smiled at the thought, her voice husky.

  "Hornier than hell," he agreed. "And desperate to taste you."

  "I saw that." She sniffed. "I felt it."

  "I looked forward to seeing you. Every time I knew you were close, I looked for you."

  "You're trying to distract me," she said, sighing. "You should let me kick myself a while longer."

  "No kicking allowed." He cupped her face in his hands and drew her forward, his lips moving to the tears that streaked her face, kissing them away, filling her with a warmth, a need, she had only found in Ian's arms.

  "I was married once," she told him, wondering why the hell that had fallen from her lips.

  Ian drew back and stared at her silently for long minutes before nodding slowly. "I know."

  "He left me." She fought to still the trembling of her lips. "Did you know he left me?"

  She was shaking, which really made no sense. It was so long ago. A lifetime ago.

  "I knew he filed for the divorce." He was so tender. He pushed her hair back again, leaned forward and kissed the corner of her trembling lips.

  "Because he didn't know me." She could barely force the words out. "Because I didn't let him know me. Didn't let him know that every time I left town on business for Uncle Jason that I was facing more danger than he could imagine. He couldn't have handled it. He would have demanded that I stop, and I couldn't stop."

  He tilted his head and stared at her curiously, waiting, watching, his gaze understanding. She wanted to scream at him, wanted him to understand that she was flawed, that she didn't always see the things that she should, that she didn't always do the things she should.

  She wanted to warn him that she was betraying him, but if she did, God help her, if she did, he would make certain she didn't have the chance.

  "And you couldn't handle telling him the truth." His hands stroked over her shoulders, her upper arms.

  "He would have felt betrayed," she whispered.

  He nodded again. "You were his wife, it was his job to stand beside you, Kira. It wasn't your job to protect him from the truth."

  That was such a male point of view, and one guaranteed to piss her off. She opened her lips to argue when she found his fingers pressed against them.

  "It's instinct," he said then. "For centuries, it's been our job to protect our home, our women, and our children. We're emotional cowards. We don't talk about our feelings, we're not comfortable putting our soul into words. So we give of ourselves the only way we know how. We protect. We smother those we love in protection, fight for ways to keep them always safe, even from what we deem as a threat from themselves. It's in our genes, Kira. Right or wrong. Emotions are harder for a man to voice, strength is much easier for us to show. It's not an insult, it's the way men show their emotions for those they love. You can't change it."

  "I can protect myself."

  "And you shouldn't have to, no more than Tehya should have had to. She should have been protected, cosseted from the evil of the world, and sheltered from a father's madness. Instead, she learned to fight, and she learned to survive. Just as you learned from different circumstances. I don't want to steal your strength. And accepting that you can walk beside me, rather than allowing me to clear your path, isn't always easy. Men don't ask their women to walk behind them because they think they're inferior. They do it because they want to shelter them."

  "Because they love," she whispered painfully.

  Fear slammed inside her now. She jumped to her feet, stumbling to get around him, staring back at him in overwhelming panic as he slowly straightened.

  "You don't love me." He couldn't love her. She couldn't allow it, not yet. It was okay to love him, to know he would walk away from her when this was over because of what she had been sent to do. But not like this. She couldn't betray his love. Oh God, don't let him love her.

  "I don't?" he questioned her, his raspy voice stroking over her nerve endings, surging through her with equal parts pleasure and fear.

  "No. You don't." She pushed her fingers through her hair, clenched the strands at the nape and felt the tension tightening in her body until she wondered if she would break. "You can't love me. Loving me is stupid, Ian. Just ask my ex-husband. Hell, I'll even give you his number."

  Because she would have to betray him. Just as she had betrayed her husband by not allowing him to know her alternate life. Now she was betraying Ian by not allowing him to know the agenda DHS had contracted her to see through.

  She reached behind her, gripped the doorknob, and pushed the door open as he stepped toward her. "Just ask him. He'll tell you. Loving me is the worst mistake you could make."

  She watched his expression, watched the glimmer of amusement that lightened his whisky eyes and the emotions that softened the savage features of his face.

  He wasn't drop-dead gorgeous, he was rough, dangerous. The features of his face were too sharp and well defined for handsome. And now, they were even more rugged as he stared back at her, obviously holding back, watching her curiously.

  "It's hard to find a woman who can walk beside a man like me," he told her softly, stalking her as she backed out of the bathroom. "I'm a prick on a good day, and I have all those male faults that keep telling me I should push you behind me, cover you, shelter you. We'll never bore each other, Kira."

  She shook her head, her heart lodging in her throat as she fought any idea that what he could feel for her went beyond lust and a need to find solace amid the life he had been living.

  Love was for later, she told herself. It wasn't for now. Not until he knew the truth of her, the truth of what she had been sent to do, and she couldn't tell him that now.

  For the first time in her adult lif
e the woman was overshadowing the Chameleon and she was regretting. Regretting the mission, regretting the woman she had become and the deceit she had learned too well. She was regretting the years she had held back, forcing herself back from Ian, forcing distance between them.

  She was learning parts of herself she hadn't imagined existed. The sensual woman. The hunger and the needs Ian called forth from her. The tenderness. The insight the woman had into the man she had claimed for her own.

  She could excuse herself by saying that she was protecting him until hell froze over, but in the end, she knew he would never believe it. A man should never have to face killing his own father, no matter what a monster he might be. And the honor that was so much a part of him would never be able to accept that his own government had held information back from him.

  She retreated further, aware that she was shaking her head repeatedly, that some part of her brain was rejecting the thing she wanted the most, that she had dreamed about for so damned long.

  Ian's love.

  "Why are you so scared, baby?" His hands flashed from his sides, locked around her wrists, and held her still as he brought his body to hers.

  He didn't drag her into his embrace, he stepped into hers, pressing himself against her as he pulled her arms to the small of her back and surrounded her with his warmth.

  She used to hate being restrained. Hated being held, until Ian. Now, it sent a heated response streaking through her as a core of once-unknown femininity came violently to life.

  She tugged at his hold, a distant part of her aware of the fact that the struggle wasn't about being set free. She didn't want to be free, she wanted to be held tighter, closer. She wanted the world to retreat until nothing mattered but the reality they created with their passion. Until the danger and the deceit swirling around them disappeared and left her free to reach out to the one man who completed her.