by Lora Leigh
"Legit?" Diego frowned. "The time has passed for that, my friend. Very much so. But perhaps it is time to face the future. No children, no grandchildren, no time to teach a child about the legacy being passed to him. Perhaps it is time to just let it go."
He didn't give McClane time to answer. He turned, pushed his hands into his pockets, and entered the lavish interior of the yacht before continuing to his room. It wouldn't take long to reach Colombia. A plane would be awaiting him and he would fly home where Saul waited for him.
To an empty, lonely estate.
Could anything be worse?
* * *
Thirty-two
KIRA OPENED HER EYES, GROANED, and closed them again. She remembered. Oh hell yes, she remembered passing out like a wimp. And that was it.
She stared around the bedroom, the same bedroom she and Ian shared at the Fuentes villa. There was no broken glass here, no shattered windows or bullet-riddled furniture. Just her.
"You're awake."
Her eyes jerked to the doorway, to Ian as he stepped into the bedroom, then to Daniel and Durango team as they entered behind him.
She glanced at the cast on her wrist and the sunlight outside the room.
"How long was I out?" She hated passing out. Tehya was right, she was a pussy. It was the whole pain thing. She hated it, it just pissed her off, and if it was strong enough, caused her to pass out. It was pathetic.
"Close to ten hours." Ian sat on the bed beside her, reaching out to smooth her hair back from her cheek as she looked at the cast on her wrist once again.
Anything to keep from looking at Ian.
"Teyha's safe," Daniel told her from the bottom of the bed. "She's on her way to Fitzhugh's estate in France to allow the authorities, both French and American, into his private computers. With him and his legal son dead, she'll have to have a few DNA tests, but it will be relatively easy for her to claim his estate. And we need his files."
"He's dead?" She looked up at Ian in surprise.
"Tehya," he said simply. "He was distracted with you, he didn't see her step into the kitchen. She emptied the Glock in his chest."
A daughter had killed her father.
Had Ian killed his? She continued to stare up at him, the question in her eyes.
"It would appear DHS warned Diego months ago that he could end up tasting one of my bullets," he said coolly. "He escaped during the chaos. The last word we had on him was that his DHS handler was escorting him back to Colombia. They're revising his agreement with them. With any luck, he'll never torture another SEAL."
It didn't sit easy with him, she could see that, but she could also see the acceptance in his eyes.
"We're heading back downstairs," Reno announced then. "We have a carrier headed this way and a copter ready to escort us home. I should be home in time to wake my wife and newborn son with the news that Ian's home and all's well." He nodded to both of them. "Be ready to roll."
Durango team strolled from the bedroom, leaving her alone with Ian and Daniel.
"Jason's called me back, he even promised me a vacation." Daniel grimaced. "Can you hide the wrist until I collect my bonus? It's really not my fault you were hurt this time, Kira. And I'm telling you, Caroline is going to make me quit if Jason decides to bruise my face again."
She rolled her eyes at his pitiful, hangdog expression.
"Jason won't know about the wrist until you get your bonus," she promised, almost shaking her head at him. "But you really need to have a talk with Caroline, Daniel. Bodyguards get bruised sometimes."
"By the bad guys," he growled, disgust suddenly weighing heavily in his voice. "Not by the damned boss because the charge doesn't know how to keep her butt out of trouble."
She grinned at that, then glanced at Ian. He was no more amused than Daniel was. She cleared her throat, wrinkled her nose, then picked at the tattered, bloodstained material of her dress. Damn, it was ruined.
"Get on out of here, Daniel," Ian ordered him then. "You should have a few days before Jason gets a look at her. By then the bruises should be . . . Well, worse anyway."
Yeah, she was bruised. She could feel a nice one forming beneath her eye and had already glimpsed the ones on her arms. No doubt about it, Jason was going to have a healthy little meltdown over this one.
She was quiet as Daniel made his way out of the room, the door closing behind him, leaving her and Ian alone, the silence in the room weighing heavily between them.
She lifted her eyes to meet his, saw the edge of sadness and pain and wanted to weep.
"I talked to DHS while you were out," he told her softly. "Diego was warned months ago about what could have happened tonight. I'm amazed he didn't murder both of us before Sorrell arrived."
She shook her head. "He loves you."
Ian shook his head at that. "I don't know if that knowledge should terrify me or reassure me. One thing's for certain, he's out of my reach. His new agreement with DHS will curtail many of his games with government agents, according to the director. I have to content myself with that."
"And will you?" She ached for him, ached for the loyalties that tore him in two and the knowledge that the man who sired him was more a monster than a father.
"I won't go gunning for him." He shrugged. "He stays away from us, I'll stay away from him."
"Us?" she whispered. Until that moment she hadn't realized how terrified she had been that Diego would separate them, that her disagreement over Ian's decisions would drive him away.
"I wasn't going to kill him." He gave his head a brief, hard shake. "I wanted to, Kira. I wanted to so bad sometimes it boiled in my gut like acid. But you were right, killing him wasn't my responsibility. The agreement I suspected he made with DHS tied my hands and I knew it."
She breathed in slowly, deeply. "None of this is your fault, Ian," she told him softly. "Fuentes, Sorrell, Nathan. You couldn't have prevented it."
"I would have, if I had known Nathan was alive before I did. I would have gotten him out of there, no matter what it took." No matter how many times he had to sell his soul to Diego. Kira understood that; she would do the same thing if it were Jason or Daniel.
"So. What do we do now?" she asked almost fearfully.
He stared down at her silently. "What do you want to do?"
"Love you forever," she whispered.
Some of the tension seemed to ease from him then. "It won't be easy for a while, you know. The press is already converging on the island. The papers in the States were carrying pictures of us together a week ago. We've already caused a sensation. 'The deserter drug lord and the society princess.'" He sneered at the caption description.
She eased up in the bed, her breath hitching as he immediately eased her into his arms.
"The press will love us once they learn the truth."
He grunted at that. "I'm not reenlisting. There's no way I'd be effective now and I'll be damned if you're going to be off causing trouble somewhere without me keeping an eye on you. I'd go insane."
"My job is done, Ian." She stared up at him then, knowing in her heart it was over now. "I wanted Sorrell, and now he's eliminated."
His eyes narrowed. "Home and hearth and white picket fences?"
She would have been angry at the disbelief in his tone if she hadn't glimpsed the hunger in his eyes as well.
"I like white picket fences." Hope bloomed in her heart, the dream she had pushed aside, a home to share with someone who knew her, body and soul. A life that didn't involve bloodshed and disguises, and maybe, just maybe, a baby. She would like to have a family with this man, a man who understood her, who loved her.
"I like white picket fences too." A grin tugged at his lips. "I have a place, in Texas."
"I know," she drawled. "And I love it. There's even a white picket fence."
He chuckled, the sound rough, almost tentative, as he laid his forehead against hers, his tobacco-brown eyes, edged with hidden flames that had nothing to do with rage, warming her from the in
side out. "Go home with me?"
"You couldn't chase me off with a stick."
"No sticks," he promised, lowering his lips to hers. "But don't discount a spanking, I told you to stay put under that desk."
"I like it when you spank." Her laughter dissolved a second later beneath his kiss, beneath the passion and the love that suddenly filled her soul and burned through her mind. "I love you, Ian, desperately."
"I love you," he breathed against her lips. "Forever, Kira. With all my soul, I love you."
He had thought he had secrets from her. A man alone, fighting alone. He realized in that moment that from the first, this woman had seen past those secrets, seen into his soul, even when he couldn't see it himself.
He cradled her to him as the painkiller Daniel had injected her with earlier drew her eyes closed again. Held her as she slept, and for the first time in his life, he realized how empty his life had been before her. He had had secrets that could have killed her, that could have killed him. And now, he had someone who could share the secrets, fight by his side, and love in return.
For the first time in his life, Ian no longer felt alone. And he realized that as long as he held Kira in his arms, he would never be alone. He was home.
* * *
Read on for a sneak peek at Lora Leigh's next scintillating Bound Hearts novel
Wicked Pleasure
Coming May 2008 in trade paperback From St. Martin's Griffin
CHASE WAS WAITING IN THE lobby of the hotel when Cam strode through the entrance. The black suit his brother wore did nothing to alleviate the aura of power and danger that surrounded him. The wicked scar that slashed down the left side of his cheek definitely helped the impression, but it was the icy green eyes, the unsmiling lips, the expression that seemed carved from experiences that suggested hell, that did it.
Cam was his brother, his twin. And sometimes Chase wondered if he even knew who or what his brother was. He definitely didn't know what had created the dark visage that strode to him.
"She's not going to appreciate a late-night visit," he told his brother as they headed toward the elevator.
"Too bad," Cam growled. "Roberts waylaid me at the party. The slick bastard. He should be in film rather than Congress. His acting ability beats the shit out of his ability to help run this fucking country."
Chase winced. Cam was cussing. That was never a good thing.
"Blindsiding Jaci like this isn't going to help," he advised him as the elevator doors slid closed behind them. "She is a little demon when that temper of hers is roused, you know that as well as I do."
And she was liquid fire when other parts of her were aroused. Chase could still taste the sweet syrup that had flowed from her body, even seven years later. And he knew Cam had never forgotten.
"I want eyes on her twenty-four seven," Cam ordered. "If Roberts even thinks about contacting her, I want to know about it."
"Cam, you can't control her life here." The elevator doors slid open.
As they stepped out of the cubicle, his brother turned to him. The green ice in his gaze flickered with a hidden flame. The intensity of the color was no longer flat with whatever emotions or memories he fought. The color was wild and vivid, shocking Chase with the emotions that seemed to swirl just under the surface.
"I have no intentions of controlling her life," Cam stated. "I'm going to become her life, Chase. There's a difference."
For a second, Chase stood in shock, staring at his brother's back as he strode quickly down the hall to the suite Ian had reserved for the interior designer.
Cameron had never claimed anything or anyone as his. Not since they had lost their parents, since their lives had gone to hell at the tender age of thirteen beneath the less than gentle care of their maternal aunt.
Hearing him claim something, someone, now was enough to almost cause him to miss that twisted expression of need on Cam's face as he turned away.
Hell, Jaci didn't need to see Cam like this. Chase didn't need to see Cam like this. Brimming with fire and lust and a need that Chase had never imagined filled his brother.
"Cam, damn it," he muttered, moving quickly behind him. "Do you think this is a wise move right now?"
Cam stopped in front of the hotel room door and glanced at his brother impatiently.
"What's so unwise about it?" He'd waited seven years for her to grow up, to find them, and now Chase wanted to wait?
"She's not exactly extending an invitation for us together," his brother snorted. "She actually stated we should find someone else to play our games with."
"You pissed her off." He lifted his hand to knock on the door.
"And you're not going to piss her off more?" Chase asked, his voice filled with a hint of disbelief that didn't make sense to Cam.
He turned back to his brother, glaring at him. "Look, I let you talk to her first, I let you bring her home, and look where it got us. You never did know how to handle her, and don't pretend you did. She walks all over you."
It was true. Chase had never been able to tell her no. Cam, on the other hand, could and would, if it meant protecting her.
"Yeah, but it feels damned good when Jaci walks on you, man." He grinned, amusement transforming his expression and filling his eyes with a joy that often made Cam look like more of an outsider than ever.
His brother had kept that sense of fun and prankish delights, while they had been carved out of Cam, stripped from him like flesh from the bone.
Cam ignored the protest and the laughter, turned back to the door, and rapped his knuckles against it imperiously.
Staying away from her at the party had been an act of superhuman effort. He still couldn't believe he'd managed it. That witch's black dress, slit to the thigh, the banked fire in her auburn hair, the searching expression on her elfin features as she stared around the room, as though looking for someone. He wanted to think she was looking for him, because he'd be damned if he had eyes for anyone but her.
A second later the door opened. His eyes met hers, and he knew in that moment that the past had dissolved between them—seven years never existed, and it was the night he had brought her home from that party. Her eyes stared at him in those final moments of knowledge, confusion, passion, and lust—and a young woman's fear.
There was no fear in her eyes now. There was excitement. He could see it in her. In the way she leaned against the door, stared at the two of them, and shook her head as though uncertain—now that the moment was here—what she was supposed to do.
Cam crossed his arms over his chest, aware of Chase rocking back on his heels beside him, a grin of deviltry on his face when Jaci glanced over at him.
"And to what do I owe the honor of this little visit?" Husky and sweet, her voice promised delights that tortured his most vivid fantasies, awake and sleeping.
She was dressed in nothing but a long, silky robe. He had to curl his fingers into fists to keep from stripping it from her body and baring her to his gaze, right there in the open doorway.
"Do you really want to talk about it in the hallway?" he asked.
She looked from him to Chase again. Whatever Chase did, the damned maniac, had her lips twitching with amusement.
He turned in time to catch his brother ducking his head and rubbing his hand around the back of his neck. Chase didn't need to make her fucking laugh. All he had to do was his part. Be here, help Cam maintain his emotional distance while they drove her crazy with pleasure.
"Fine." She breathed out slowly before moving back and opening the door fully. "Come on in. I was just having a glass of wine and thinking about assholes. You'll fit right in, Cam."
Damn, she hadn't changed as much as he had feared she had.
They stepped into the roomy sitting room, as she strolled—glided—all those graceful moves women made when they walked across the floor. But she did it better than any other woman he had ever known.
"The suite's nice," Chase commented, clearing his throat as he glanced between Cam and
Jaci. "You should know I picked it out."
She lifted her brows in mock surprise. "You have very good taste, Chase. I've always said that about you."
"Most women do." His cockiness was going to get on Cam's nerves any minute now.
Cam threw his brother a hard, warning glare and only received a chuckle in return.
Jaci picked up her wine as she curled herself into the corner of the couch and stared back at them. She knew. He stared into her eyes, watched her gaze flicker, and he knew that she knew exactly why he was there.
It was eating him alive. For years, the memory of that one night had been like a slow-eating cancer, destroying his mind. He had fucked other women. He had taken them, he had danced with them, he had made small talk with them. But Jaci had always been there. Her laughter, her smile, the heat of her kiss, the shock in her eyes when she realized Chase was the man between her thighs, licking with greedy abandon as Cam filled her mouth with his cock.
That memory had the power to destroy his self-control at any given time.
"And what do you say about me?" Cam couldn't hold the question back. For a moment, just a moment, jealousy ate into him. He didn't need Chase flirting with her, showing her everything Cam wasn't.
She turned to him, and what flashed in her eyes stilled the jealousy, the brewing anger.
"That you're the asshole," she stated with mocking conviction.
And for the first time, Cam almost smiled. Because she didn't mean it. He could see the fine tremor in her hands as she brought the wineglass to her lips. The throb of her pulse beating out of control in her neck. And that flush. The light stroke of color on her face that indicated arousal, anticipation, curiosity.
"I've always said that about him, too," Chase assured her as he moved across the room to the bar and poured himself a whisky. "I knew you were a smart girl, Jaci."
Cam shrugged his jacket from his shoulders and tore at the tie around his throat. And her eyes never left him. Her fingers tightened around the wineglass, and her tongue stroked over lips nervously.