Dangerous Secrets: Callaghan Brothers, Book 1 (27 page)

No!  She forced her thoughts away from Jake as her chest began to ache, making it even harder to breathe.  She would not think of him, of those incredible blue eyes that looked down into her soul, of those strong arms that wrapped around her and made her feel as if nothing in the world could ever hurt her.  She would not remember his warm, clean scent as she buried her face in his neck, or the way it felt to have him inside of her.  He had tricked her, and softening her heart to him now was a distraction she couldn’t afford.  She’d escaped from this lunatic once before; she could – and would – do it again. 

As long as she focused and stopped thinking about Jake Callaghan.

Except she couldn’t help it.  The ability to control her thoughts and emotions was practically non-existent, rendered all but helpless by a potent combination of sickness, heartbreak, and terror.  Unshed tears welled in her eyes as other parts of her body started aching, too. 

God, she missed Jake.  He probably hated her now.  She shot him, for Heaven’s sake.  Him and his brother, who had done nothing but try to help her.  The trouble was, they didn’t understand that no one could help her.  Anybody who tried ended up dead. 

Her resolved strengthened.  She
would
end this.  Tonight. One way or the other.  If she died in the process, so be it.  It would almost be a relief.  But she was taking the bastard with her.

Taryn bit back her sobs and listened for any indication of the intruder’s current location.  It was quiet, too quiet.  Minutes ticked by in a heavy silence.  There were no footsteps to be heard, no telltale signs that someone was in her little hideaway, but she could feel him in each one of the little hairs standing up on the back of her neck. 

Her grip tightened around the small handgun.  Her hands were trembling so much she wrapped one hand around the wrist that held the weapon, balancing it on her knees, pointing it toward the door.

The slightest whisper of sound met her ears as someone tried the latch.  It was followed closely by a metallic click and faint hum.  Within seconds the door swung open effortlessly.

“Kiara.”  The familiar voice, the voice of her nightmares, sent rippling shivers down her spine.  “So long I’ve waited...”

Taryn fired off three rounds in rapid succession, diving to the side as she did so.  At least one hit its mark, the soft thud distinguishable from those that had hit the wall.  The man cursed, then laughed.  It made her blood run cold.  “Always playing hard to get, aren’t you, princess?”

She held her breath as she crawled an inch at a time, trying to keep her location hidden for as long as she could.  If she couldn’t see him, then he couldn’t see her, and every moment she remained out of his grasp increased her chances of coming out of this alive.

“Ah, there you are.” 
Unless he had night vision goggles, that was
.  Seconds later she was being hauled to her feet painfully by her hair. 

“Miss me?”  He was so close she could feel his hot breath across her face. He smelled the same – a mixture of expensive male cologne and a hint of alcohol and tobacco.  She gagged, wishing she had been able to keep down some of her last meal so she could have the pleasure of throwing up on him.

With his hand knotted in her hair, he dragged her through the doorway and into the living area, throwing her against the sofa as if she were a rag doll.  He was stronger than she remembered; harder.  She kicked out at him, landing several glancing blows before managing one solid connection with his jaw with a resounding and satisfying crack.  He responded with a backhand that left her stunned and seeing flashes of bright stars in the darkness.  He used those few moments to his full advantage, binding her hands and feet with duct tape. 

Only then did he leave her, disappearing through the archway with a confident step, as if he knew exactly where he was going.  Within minutes the lights blinked back on.

“You’ve been a very naughty girl, Kiara,” he said.  “Making me come after you like this.  Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment?”  He laughed, then
tsked
.  “Honestly, Kiara.  Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

She glared at him, noticing with some satisfaction a blossoming dark purple bruise along his jaw.  “Fuck you.”

“Not yet, my sweet, but very soon, I promise.”  He ran his finger down her cheek.  She spit at him.  He wiped it away calmly.  “I always loved your fire, Kiara.  But I do have my limits.”  He pulled a strip of cloth from his pocket and tied it over her mouth.  “You’ve kept me waiting long enough.”

* * *

“T
aryn’s alive.”  Kane’s words came through after they’d heard the shots, and the relief that rippled through them was substantial.  He’d managed to work his way into the small crawl spaces above the living quarters, placing listening devices against the ceilings as he went.

“Current location?”

“Living room.” 

“Status?”

“Bound and gagged, but feisty.”  Kane’s voice, always cool even under extreme pressure, held a note of amusement.

Jake almost smiled at that.  “He’s mine.”

“Only if you get to him first.”

“We have visual,” Ian reported quietly.  He’d managed to tap into the security monitors.  “One assailant, heavily armed.  He’s tending a GSW, looks like a clean shot through the arm.  And one hell of a dent in his face.” 

This time Jake did smile.  God, he loved that woman.  “Hang on, baby,” he whispered.  “Almost there.” 

“Patching into audio now...”

* * *

T
aryn watched Gavin clean and bandage the hole she’d put in his arm.  If only she’d been a few inches up and to the right, the bullet would have pierced his neck.  She kept a vision of that in her head, imagining him bleeding out on the floor in front of her.  She found that it helped her focus through the haze and pain. 

“I must say, Kiara,” Gavin was saying, his voice giving no indication that he’d just been shot, “you have blossomed quite nicely.”  He gave her a leering glance, and for the first time seemed to notice the sheen of perspiration across her face, the dark circles under her eyes, the unkempt hair tied loosely back in a sloppy ponytail.  “But you look like shit.  Sick again, are we?”

Putting his shirt back on but not bothering to button it, he approached her and laid a hand on her head.  For the first time, he frowned.  He pulled up her eyelids roughly, felt her pulse.  “What’s wrong with you?”

Taryn couldn’t answer with the gag.  Gavin pulled it over her mouth, and she immediately rolled over and began heaving.

“Jesus Christ!” he yelled, jumping back in disgust.  At that moment she wished once again she still had something left in her stomach so she could have vomited on his shoes.  He grabbed her by her hair and pulled her to her feet.

“First things first, sweetheart.”  He began dragging her toward the bathroom, roughly tossing her into the small shower.  He held her down with one hand while turning the water on with the other.  She let out an ear-splitting, high-pitched wail as the ice-cold water hit her fevered skin, making Jake and the others wince.

“Good lungs.”  Michael’s soft observation sounded over their headsets as they continued to converge and surround the underground facility. 

Taryn squirmed and thrashed as Gavin ripped the shirt from her body, then dumped a generous amount of body wash over her hair and skin and held her under the spray.

“Stop fighting, you little witch,” Gavin hissed, his voice clearly strained from the effort of trying to hold her down.  Jake silently cheered her on, at least until he heard the resounding crack.  As one, the brothers froze, listening for continued signs of Taryn’s struggle.  There was none.

“Fuck this, I’m going in,” Jake said, bursting forward.

“Roger that,” a chorus of voices chimed in.

The door to the bathroom burst open seconds later.  Gavin never even had time to turn around completely before Jake was on him, his arm like a steel band around the other man’s neck as he dragged him backwards and away from Taryn.  He only allowed himself one quick glimpse at her, almost wishing he hadn’t.  She lay motionless in the shower, swirling currents of dark red coursing toward the drain.  A fear like he had never known gripped at his chest.

“Ian,” he choked.

“On it, bro.”  Ian appeared out of nowhere, shutting off the water.  He immediately ripped off his jacket and threw it over Taryn.  It was only a few seconds later that Jake heard his voice again. “Mick,” Ian said quietly, though Jake, like everyone else, could hear it clearly through his earpiece.  “Need you, man.”

“On my way.”

Jake trusted his brothers with his life.  Now he would have to trust them with Taryn’s. Again.  In the meantime, the monster clawing his insides to shreds demanded he do something.  He dragged the other man out into the living area as Michael sprinted past him.  Kane was there, waiting, the customized Glock held casually in his hand.

Kane’s face was pure granite; his eyes, ice.  “What do you have there, Jake?”

Jake released the man’s neck and grabbed him by the hair.  Putting his substantial mass into it, he body-slammed the man face-first against the steel-reinforced wall - once, twice, a third time – until the man slumped to the floor unconscious.  Using his steel-toed boot, Jake kicked at his head until his face was visible.

“Know him?”

Kane was silent for a moment, but his eyes darkened.  “Yeah, I know him.  That’s Gavin Howard.”

“Gavin Howard?  Why does that name sound familiar?”

“He was Senator Fitzpatrick’s personal bodyguard, former ops agent and only son of Senator James Howard, the Republican front-runner for the next presidential election.  He led the task force assembled to investigate the slayings.” 

Kane’s jaw tightened.  Jake had the feeling there was a lot more Kane wasn’t saying, and whatever it was, it wasn’t good.  “We’d better secure him good and tight.  One of us is with him at all times, no exceptions.  We handle this one with extreme prejudice, got it?”

Jake nodded.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Kane so angry.  There was a reason they all called him the Iceman.

“Jake.”  Ian appeared at the door, Taryn in his arms.  Ian’s eyes were a perfectly clear, icy blue.  His face held no expression whatsoever.  Michael followed closely behind, the same non-expression on his face.  It was not a good sign, and caused pools of cold dread to slosh around in Jake’s gut.

Ian handed Taryn to Jake; he was horrified by how light she felt, like nothing in his arms.  “Go with her,” Ian said.  “I’ll stay.”

Jake looked into his brother’s eyes questioningly, but Ian would give nothing away.  Given the closeness Jake and Ian shared, it only made the cold dread already flowing through his veins thicken.  In an uncharacteristically tender gesture, Ian looked down and brushed a lock of wet hair from where it fell in Taryn’s eyes. 

Those eyes fluttered open, trying desperately to focus.  “Ian?” she asked, the word mumbled over her swollen, busted lips. 

“That’s right, Taryn.  It’s me.  Jake’s got you, baby, and Michael’s going to fix you up good as new.”

“Gavin?”

“We got him.  He won’t hurt you anymore.”  Ian looked down to where Kane was binding the man’s hands and legs.  He didn’t see Taryn reaching for his gun until it was too late.

One, two, three shots fired in rapid succession, the sound ringing in their ears.  One in the head, one in the neck, one in the heart.  Then the gun dropped to the floor as Taryn lost consciousness.

J
ake stared at the small hand he held in his own.  At the slim, dainty fingers.  The nails devoid of any polish or decoration, kept neatly trimmed and practically short.  The hand that was now partially wrapped in bandages because she had broken two knuckles fending off her attacker.  Her face was bruised, her eyes blackened from the force of the blow the bastard had leveled on her.  Beneath the shapeless blue hospital gown, her cracked ribs were taped and the ugly purple welts from repeated blows to the abdomen and kidney were hidden.  As hard as it was to look at her this way, it was easier than processing the words his brother was telling him.

“What was it?”  Jake asked, his voice like sandpaper, barely audible.

Michael couldn’t meet his eyes.  “A boy.” 

Jake once thought he could withstand anything anyone threw at him.  How wrong he had been.  In the past forty-eight hours he had learned just how vulnerable he was. 

He moved his glance to the IV bag, watched the slow drip, drip, drip of the solution into the tube.  From where he sat, if he looked at it just the right way, the sun glistened on the drops, making them look like crystals. 

Taryn had been carrying their son.  A son that she had miscarried in a small underground hideaway when a monster attacked her.  The same monster that had already claimed the only family she’d ever had.  Her father.  Her mother.  Her sister.  Her brother.  Now her son. 
Their son
.

“Did she know?”

“Probably not.” 

Jake nodded.  It was better this way.  “We’re not telling her.”

“Jake –“

“
We’re not telling her unless she asks specifically
.”  If she had known, if she asked, he would be the one to tell her, and they would get through it together.  But if she hadn’t...

She had already lost far too much.  If he could spare her this horrible, gut-wrenching ache, he would.  He would keep their son in his heart and grieve enough for both of them.

Michael’s lips tightened but he said nothing further on the subject. 

“Why isn’t she waking up?”

“The pneumonia was pretty severe.  Luckily it’s the bacterial kind and not the viral.  We have enough antibiotics pumping through her system right now to topple a bull.  Trust me, it’s better she sleeps through this.”

Jack Callaghan poked his head through the door.  “Okay if I come in?”

He brought with him a huge bouquet of brightly-colored flowers.  It took a while to find a place to put them; every surface was already filled with baskets, vases and bouquets, gifts from the family of men who didn’t know what else to do.  The nurses had begun lining the get well wishes on the floor along the walls.