Cleopatra's Necklace (Devlin Security Force Book 3) (31 page)

“She told me. She’s going to share an apartment with a woman at the clinic where she’ll be working.”

“Her room could be your studio. Great morning light in there.”

When he kissed her this time, his lips were tender, his tongue coaxing, persuasive. Irresistible.

He was asking her to live with him, a long-term relationship. Her whole body smiled, yet a painful bubble of panic swelled in her throat. Commitment. Sort of. He hadn’t said the L word.

“I can’t say you don’t know what you’d be getting. You know me better than anyone. I’ll probably still make impulsive choices.”

“One of the things I appreciate about you—as long as one of those choices is me.”

She grinned. “Like I said, I’ve learned some things about myself. I’ve had relationships too, but ones I could walk away from. I was afraid to
need
someone, afraid of being hurt.”

“Of being dependent.”

“So you
do
know me. I needed those few years on my own and these days with you to learn that needing someone, loving someone doesn’t make me dependent. So… my own studio and you in the bargain? How can I refuse?”

Thomas held her hard, the life-giving connection swelling his chest with a mix of emotions— softness, passion, need. And fear.

He didn’t want her to feel trapped but she was
his
, the woman he wanted by his side and not as a roommate. He couldn’t stop wanting her, wanting to make her happy, wanting to plan a future together. He reached in his jeans for the package he’d unwrapped when Cleo was staring at her paintings. He slipped the small box beneath his pillow.

Damn, he rarely had trouble knowing what to say, but how to begin had his tongue stuck to his teeth. “Babe, this deal, I need to make the commitment clearer, defined.”

The light in her gaze dimmed. “Want to negotiate on terms, like a lease?”

Shit, she thought the C word had him running scared. “No negotiation. No compromise.” He drew a fortifying breath, trusted his strategy. “When you were a hot teenager, all I could think about was getting you naked. I lost the friendship we’d had. And have found again.”

“Oh, Thomas, I—”

He placed her hand over his heart. “No one else reached me
here
. Because this place was already taken. By you. I’ve loved you half my life but didn’t let myself think about it. About
us
. No one else knew the real me or made me examine myself. And change some things, like not being so uncompromising and ceding some control to others.”

“Even me?”

“Especially you.”

Doubts clouded her gaze. “Thomas, are you sure? Aren’t you afraid I’ll run away if we have tough times?”

Her question washed over him like a balm, eradicating his fears. “Times couldn’t get much tougher than we’ve just survived. No matter the risk, you were brave and resourceful and reliable. You ran away from nothing— except when you lost yourself in your art. Yes, I did notice. But no cage. I’m not worried you’ll fly away.”

Her acceptance of his trust shone in her eyes. “I’ve learned something else during our odyssey,” she said. “Freedom is hollow without commitment to something or someone.” She kissed him lightly. “My some
thing
is making a success of my painting. And my some
one
is you. So what do you want in our contract?”

“I want forever, a lifetime commitment.”

She closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, her answer was in their shining depths. “Forever? Can I get that in writing?”

“Absolutely. Signed and witnessed. And as soon as possible.” He withdrew the velvet box and opened it. “I had my dad overnight this.”

Cleo’s hand flew to her throat. “Oh, Tommy, your mother’s ring.”

He swallowed. “I wanted to do this right. It was my great-grandmother’s, an old mine-cut diamond. If you don’t like it—”

She silenced him with a hard kiss. “Don’t like it? It’s perfect.” She held out her hand for him to slip on the ring. “It fits. Like us.”

He lifted her left hand and kissed the ring finger. “I made a contract offer. And gave a token of my pledge. I need an answer.”

“The head of Devlin Security is
in
secure?” she teased. “The answer is a big yes. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I want that forever with you.”

“Sealing this deal calls for more than a kiss.”

He peeled her tee and her bra off over her head. His fingers moved aside her bikini panty, slid it out of his way.

“But your bruised ribs. And my concussion. Although my headache has backed off.”

He hushed her with a kiss and stroked her, stirring her to writhe against his hand. His pulse rioted and he shuddered with need. “We’ll take it easy.” Between kisses he removed the rest of his clothing.

His breath hurried and shallow, he lifted her leg across his hip. When he joined them, they sighed in unison. Languid strokes in a gentle rhythm and lazy kisses shimmered through him, surging fire through his blood, reeling his senses until she spasmed around him. Gasping moans of pleasure parted her lips and her undulations pulled his release from him in a huge, pulsing wave.

Long moments later, they held each other and kissed, slowly, gently, filling him with her scent and her softness and with the assurance she accepted his claim binding them together. She saw into his heart and understood him like no one else. With her, for the first time in years, maybe since he was a kid, he didn’t feel alone.

Toronto, Canada - Five days later

THOMAS EXPRESSED THANKS
and ended the call. A woman in blue scrubs pushed along a cart laden with empty lunch trays past the half-open door to Mimi’s room. Aromas of chicken and gravy mixed with that of disinfectant, squelching his hunger pangs in mid-growl.

“Good news for a change?” Lucas asked in a distracted manner. Beside Thomas in the corridor, he shifted from one foot to the other and scrubbed his palms down his jeans. He touched his hearing aid, so tiny it was nearly invisible.

Thomas wished a curse on all those women who’d sapped the confidence of this kind and generous man. Lucas and Mimi had yet to speak to each other. The Beast had come to care for his Beauty only by watching over her silent and sleeping form.

“French agents raided Zervas’s villa in the south of France,” he said in answer to the question. “They found originals of most of the copies he sold. Including the Han horse. Mara’s authenticator in France declares it’s the genuine horse. The Tate Museum director is ecstatic.”

“Getting rid of Centaur should improve our PR,” Lucas said. “You must be glad to be back.”

“Back to stress level normal. No one shooting at me.”

The past weeks had made him see it was time to groom someone to be chief operating officer. He’d continue to be CEO but the fire in his belly to spend all his time and effort running the show had cooled. He couldn’t wait to return home every day.

To Cleo.

On Monday, they’d driven to Annapolis. Her mother was thrilled to see her— and them
together
and engaged— hugging each of them. Her father worked himself up to a gale of bluster about the danger his impulsive daughter had put herself in. Fear for his youngest and frustration with his injury made him testier than usual. But Cleo’s announcement of her impending gallery showing and Thomas’s obvious support dumped the winds of indignation from Hoot’s sails.

Lucas’s gaze slid to the room where Cleo and Mimi were visiting. A drop of sweat dripped from his forehead to his nose. The hospital was warm, but not that warm. “Maybe I’ll go for a walk. Or something.”

“Give them a few more minutes.” Cleo had promised not to prepare Mimi either for her protector’s appearance or for his ambivalence. But the two women had had enough time alone. More delay and Lucas was likely to bolt and not return.

Lucas shuffled his feet again. “Your sister okay?”

“Better than in years. Says her therapist thinks kicking Nedik in the nuts empowered her so she feels she has more control over her life.”

Cleo appeared at Mimi’s door. “Lucas, she wants to see you.”

Panic skittered across his broad face. He pushed away from the wall, edging a step away from Thomas. “You sure you two don’t need more time alone?”

Thomas laid a steadying hand on his friend’s shoulder. “An hour’s long enough. You’ve come all this way. Do you want to hurt her feelings?”

Jaw clamped tighter than a vise, Lucas trudged through the open door.

Mimi sat upright in the bed. Short auburn growth covered where sutures had pinched the shaved place above one ear. The rest of her hair fanned across the nest of pillows and brushed her shoulders. Caramel freckles stood out in relief against the pallor of her cheeks. Her eyes, the same green as Cleo’s, shimmered with emotion when they locked on Lucas Del Rio. No hint of fear or revulsion. Only relief and happiness.

Thomas slowly exhaled as he felt Cleo press closer to him. He slipped an arm around her shoulder.

Mimi’s smile was summer sunshine warming the entire room as she extended both hands. “Lucas, oh, Lucas, come closer. I’d know you anywhere. You’re just as I pictured you. Rugged and strong. You saved my life.”

The magnet that she was pulled Lucas’s steel to her side. She reached for him and he wrapped her small hands in his big ones. “Didn’t do much. Just kept that thug out of your room.”

“And I thank you for that, eh? But I meant something much larger, more personal. I kept floating away toward a distant light. But your voice, your gentle, warm voice brought me back every time.”

The tops of his ears reddened. “I must’ve talked nonsense. But I wanted you to know you weren’t alone.” His normally gravel rough voice, was as she described, syrup smooth.

She lifted his hand and held it to her cheek. “You did that and more. You made me keep fighting to come out of it. To live. So we could have this moment.”

Thomas was mesmerized.

Cleo’s tug on his arm uprooted him and they crept from the room. He followed her to the elevator and down to the main floor café where they purchased hot cider. As if afraid to burst the magical bubble they’d witnessed, neither spoke until they were outside at an area with seats. The air smelled of autumn crispness and the apple fragrance wafting from their paper cups. Leaves of nearby shrubs were turning color.

“That was beautiful,” Cleo said, turning her face to the blue sky. She pulled her wraparound sweater closer and tied its sash against the chilly breeze. Smiling, she accepted her cup from him.

Thomas sat beside her on the smooth granite bench, warmed by the sun. “Almost as beautiful as you.”

She smiled over her cider, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “A poetic compliment from Thomas Devlin. Whoa.”

Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her gently, with the love and gratitude in his heart and soul, then claimed her lips as need hardened him. Deep, wet kisses followed that took away his breath and left her clinging to him.

“You make me happy,” he said against her mouth. “You make me want to be more than a workaholic. I’m thinking a house bigger than my condo, maybe a family?”

Her lips twitched. “Oh, I don’t know. Lucas suggested you should hire me for more cloak-and-dagger missions. I kinda got into the excitement of the chase.”

A groan slipped between his clenched teeth. “Heaven help me. I’ve created a monster.”

“A life with you is all the excitement I need. I think we should start that family soon. You know, one of us is getting older.”

“Babe,” he warned. But he was grinning.

“
Ranger.
” She wrinkled her nose. “I meant
me
. In a couple of years I’ll be
thirty
.” She laughed, that husky, sexy sound he loved and wanted to hear for the next zillion years.

The End

Please Enjoy this Excerpt from

On Deadly Ground

Book 1 of the DEVLIN SECURITY FORCE series

Chapter 1

Dulles International Airport, Washington, D.C.

THE GIG WAS
right up his alley. Recover an artifact with a curse—Kizin, the Maya god of earthquakes, no less. Deliver it in tandem with the rescue of a kidnap victim somewhere in the Costa Verde jungle. And outflank that damn smuggling ring. Only hitch was the time frame—beat an earthquake.

And, oh, yeah. The client. Make that two hitches.
Talk to the boss on that one.

Max Rivera adjusted his back pack and grabbed his duffel bag from the carousel. Slinging the strap onto one shoulder, he headed toward the coffee kiosk by the car rental desks. The new client must be damned important to Devlin Security Force if Devlin himself took the time to make the introduction. Max searched the crowd as he wove past people gabbing in a dozen languages. No Devlin.

A small boy, about three years old, stood alone. Travelers streamed around him, paying no attention to the kid only as high as knee level. Tears fell from brown eyes wide with panic, dribbled down his chin and onto his Incredible Hulk T-shirt.

The sight punched Max in the gut, threw him back in time. He’d been a few years older, but just as scared and alone. He set down the duffel and knelt in front of the kid. “Hey, buddy, what’s the matter?”

The kid looked away as if searching, eyed him up and down, and sniffed. “Mama got lost.”

Another gut punch. Abandoning a kid like an unwanted suitcase in Baggage Claim had to be the height of irony. Max drew a deep breath. Maybe he was just projecting. Maybe the kid just wandered away. Shit.

He pulled a pack of tissues from his shorts pocket and handed one to the boy. “Hey, I bet she’s looking for you right now,” he said in the cheeriest tone he could muster. Sounded fake his ears, but all he had. “My name’s Max, but I can’t keep calling you buddy. What’s your name?”

The kid frowned, doubtful, as he mopped his eyes. “Joey.”

“Nice name. Joey, you see the guy in uniform over there at the desk?”

Joey tilted his head, studied the security guard for a moment, then nodded.

“He’s like a policeman, and he can help find your mom. I’ll walk over there with you. That okay?” He pushed to his feet and hoisted his duffel out of Joey’s way.

“’Kay.” The little guy reached for Max. “Don’t want you to get lost too.” A chubby hand—wet with tears and baby snot—closed over two fingers of Max’s big paw.

His throat closed, and he had trouble swallowing. Needed that coffee. Probably still had Egyptian sand in his throat.

“Hey, officer,” he said when they reached the desk. “This boy says his mom’s lost. Can you page or—”

“Joey, oh my God, there you are!” A heavy-set woman was hustling toward them. She wheeled two suitcases, the smaller one covered in super-hero stickers. Her face was just as frantic and tear soaked as Joey’s.

“Mama, Mama!” Joey flung himself into her arms.

She lifted him and held him close. “I turned around for one minute and you were gone. Where did you go?”

Joey’s lower lip quivered, portent of another flood on the way. “I go see the bags plop out.”

Joey’s mother thanked Max profusely and explained. “He likes to see the bags pop onto the conveyor. Our carousel wasn’t spitting out new bags, so when I looked away…” She shook her head.

Max exhaled slowly and unclenched his jaw. No point in chewing out the woman. He stretched his lips into a smile. “Bye, Joey. You stay close to your mom from now on, okay?”

“’Kay.” He buried his face in her shoulder.

Max left the happy ending and bought his coffee. The first big gulp burned the crap out of his mouth.
He needed a jolt but not blisters.

“Max Rivera to the rescue again, I see.” Thomas Devlin’s deep voice turned him around.

Max’s ears burned, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Too bad they’re not all that easy.”

“You’d miss the challenge.” Brown eyes crinkled with amusement, probably at Max’s beach-bum look. A definite contrast to the other man’s dark suit and open shirt collar. Devlin might dress civilian, but his bearing was all military.

Max threw back his shoulders and gripped his former captain’s hand. “No shit. But right now I need caffeine.” He barely stopped himself from adding
sir
. “I just dragged my butt off a sixteen-hour flight. Beside a kid who never stopped shrieking.” 

“You can sleep on the flight to London.” Devlin pounded him on the back and nudged him through the building toward the escalators.

“You know me, Thomas. I’m up for anything. I know Costa Verde. England, not so much. But a chance to jam up Centaur and return a bit of history to its rightful place, I’m in.” Especially Maya history. If his old mentor was looking down, he’d approve. “Hazardous situation, potentially explosive, even better.”

“So you say, but I hear doubt in your voice.” Devlin stuffed a boarding pass in Max’s shirt pocket.

“No problem with the mission.” Choosing his words, Max drank more coffee. “Not for me, I mean. But damned dangerous for a museum executive type. I’d rather handle the job solo.”

He knew his own capabilities. Other people let you down, left you high and dry. You didn’t know who to trust, who not to trust.

“No can do. Here’s the part of your job I didn’t tell you because I needed to check with Interpol. You’re to find out what you can on our kidnap victim’s black-market dealing—subtly.”

Max pressed his lips together. He shot a glance toward the high ceiling before nodding. “And for that, I need Doug Fontaine’s sister Kate. The client. Get her to spill on her brother while I protect her in London and Costa Verde. Roger.”

He scraped knuckles across his jaw. A run-in with Fontaine two years ago in Istanbul had left behind a bad taste. If traveling with the sister meant a way to nail the guy, he’d suck it up.

“One more thing,” Devlin said as they left the escalator. “Don’t mention the other players to Kate Fontaine until you know more.”

“Or until sharing that becomes necessary.” More danger to the client might put her on the sidelines. Something to keep in mind.

The wait in line at the ticket counter was short, one couple ahead arguing in French. Max checked the duffel, glad to have the weight off his shoulder.

“Twenty-one days before that earthquake’s supposed to hit? But come on, Thomas, an earthquake curse?”

“Right. There are tremors. The client will explain further.” Devlin led the way toward a central hallway and the escalators to the security checkpoint. “The quake’s the biggest danger... but not the only one. People will kill to possess the artifact. DSF has no contact in Costa Verde to verify, and I can’t send in a team. This op has to be low key. Kate says certain parties there want the statue for the powers they believe it possesses.”

“I’m not surprised.” For many, ancient Maya beliefs mingled with others.

They wove past other travelers to the checkpoint, and Devlin tipped his head toward a pillar. “There’s our client.”

Max’s gaze followed his boss’s as he tossed down the last of the coffee. He stopped mid-swallow. Shit. Not the hot blonde. “Her?”

“Katherine Fontaine, Assistant Director, one of three at the National Cultural Museum. Your traveling companion. Your principal.”

Cell phone to one ear, she stood tapping her foot. Mile-long legs encased in slim black pants. Fitted jacket. Designer and pricey. An attitude that shouted hands-off. A body that equaled distraction. Distraction meant trouble.

Elegant. Educated. Probably pampered. Trouble in capital letters? Yeah. Big time.

I’m awake now.

Clunky shoes—practical. Okay. Maybe the woman had some sense after all.

“London, yeah, but can you see that female in the interior jungles of Costa Verde? Nope,
de ningún modo
, no way.”

Devlin’s mouth quirked up. “DSF does a lot of work for her museum. She’s a valuable client. And Kate Fontaine is tougher than she looks.”

Max gritted his teeth. Tossed his cup in a nearby recycling bin.

She’d better be tough. His job was protection, not babysitting.

***

“You have no idea how much this is upsetting me, Katherine.”

Kate did, but it was too late to change anything she’d done or failed to do. She switched the cell phone to her right ear.

“I thought you hired someone to rescue poor Dougie.”

“I did, Mom, but to accompany me, not to deliver the statue. I’ll be okay. Try not to worry.
Devlin Security Force is a reputable firm. They specialize in protecting and retrieving art and artifacts. The museum has hired DSF many times to protect exhibits en route. I have every confidence in their man to protect and guide me.” Every. Confidence.

“But why do
you
have to go?” Without stopping for an answer, her mom continued her complaint.

Kate stepped closer to the pillar and away from passengers filing into the security line. She shifted the shoulder strap of the carryon and readjusted the phone. No sign yet of Thomas Devlin and his agent, and her mom could talk longer than the life of the battery charge.

If only she’d taken the time to attend the auction instead of sending Doug, everything would’ve been fine. He wouldn’t be suffering from a broken leg and a head injury, and his life wouldn’t be in jeopardy. That Doug didn’t blame her for the injuries and neither did Mom made no difference. Her fault. All of it. Tears burned her eyes and she willed them away.

Ten days ago, because Doug hadn’t returned her call, she’d driven to his condo. No Doug. No wheelchair. No meds. Only a printed note that read,
“We have Fontaine. If you want to see him alive, no police. Call.”
Then a phone number. A disposable phone, the police detective said, untraceable. No witnesses, no clues, no leads. The damn scum thought of everything. The FBI could offer nothing better. Time was short so she had little choice. DSF was excellent at protecting artifacts, but...

A man in a black leather jacket approached on her left. Kate edged aside but relaxed when he discarded a sandwich wrapper in the trash.
Calm down.
Except... oh, wait, didn’t she have every right to be jumpy and suspicious? She huffed and turned her back.

“Mom, Scotland Yard will tell me nothing. I need to find out the names of possible suspects some other way.” And the collector who sold the statue to Doug knew the business, knew other collectors. Even some who might do whatever necessary to obtain a rare artifact. She pressed her free hand to her roiling stomach. She wouldn’t think about what could happen to Doug.

“All well and good,” her mom continued. “England is civilization. But the jungle?”

No kidding. Scorpions in the tent, snakes, and— Minor hazards of nature compared to an earthquake. True, all true. Enough to terrify her, but not enough to stop her. She’d do whatever it took to save Doug’s life. She fisted her free hand so tightly her nails bit into her palms.

“I have to follow the kidnapper’s instructions.” It was more complicated than that, but no point in elaborating. “I have to do this myself, Mom.”

“But earthquake country? Didn’t you say the tremors were increasing?” her mother whined. “You’re not equipped, Katherine.”

Kate tuned out the same old song. But Mom was right. She wasn’t tough or brave or experienced like Doug and her dad. Going through the jungle was beyond risky. God, she’d give anything to be at her desk where her only concern was placating a temperamental curator.

Her mother sniffled. “How can you go off and leave me all alone?
Anything
could happen to you. I need you.”

Anything could happen, yes, but she couldn’t—wouldn’t—let herself dwell on worst-case scenarios. And Devlin’s operative would guide her. He’d protect her. And Kizin, once she recovered it. She couldn’t afford second thoughts, not with barely three weeks before the deadline. At the inadvertent word choice, a shiver went through her.

“You’ll be okay,” she said gently. “If I had a choice, I’d stay here.”

More sniffs and the brush of tissues. “You’re going on a wild trek just like... like...”

Like my father. Like my brother.
She studied a crack in the tile floor. “It’s not the same as one of Dad’s expeditions, Mom. I
have
to go.” The loudspeaker blared. “They’re calling my flight. Try not to worry. I’ll bring Doug back. I promise. Love you. Bye.”

She dropped the phone in her bag. The announcement was about a truck blocking the fire lane, but she couldn’t bear listening to more pleas. And her dad... Her throat closed.

The leather-jacketed man returned. He stood by the pillar, looking her way. Swarthy complexion, stocky. Maybe Hispanic. When she caught his eye, he turned away abruptly.

Her pulse kicked up and a band tightened around her chest.

Now, his gaze scoured the crowd. Like her, waiting for someone? Or—

Had he been watching her? Could he be with the kidnappers? Her heart pounded double time. Edging away, she searched the baggage-laden crowd again for Thomas.

A group of women in brightly colored saris walked toward her. Behind them... At last, Thomas Devlin. She sighed and relaxed the tension in her shoulders. She’d recognize that military stride and piercing stare anywhere. The commanding confidence that drew every eye.