Hold Me (16 page)

She slid off him and looked at him, lying there. He was so excited. He was so beautiful.

“Oh, what a piece of work is man,” she murmured and found herself wanting to try something she’d never have done with Tom. Or anyone else, for that matter.

“Katie?” He groaned, then bucked when she grasped his sex in her hands.

Before she lost her nerve, she licked him from stem to stern as if he were a lollipop.

He reacted as if she’d put an electric charge on the thing and his control finally broke. With one fluid movement, her threw her onto her back, leaned over her, panting. “I can’t take it. I can’t fucking take it.” He snatched up the condom from where she’d dropped it and had it open before she could blink. He sheathed himself quickly and positioned himself between her thighs, entering her just a little bit before he stopped and braced himself.

“Now. Please now.” It was her turn to gasp, her turn to struggle. She tried to force him to come down but he didn’t move. He just looked at her and smiled, the twist of his lips halfway between pleasure and pain.

“Katie,” he said and sank in up to the hilt. Then all bets were off.

He was wild for her and that was okay; she was wild for him too. He thrust again and again, harder, deeper, faster. She tried to meet him, tried to encourage him. He twisted his hips and she gasped when he rubbed against a particularly sensitive spot deep inside her. So he did it again…and again…and again…and again…

Then the pressure broke, and Katie’s orgasm rolled through her. She spasmed around him. He thrust into her even harder, which brought her all over again.

“Bruce,” she groaned. “Bruce.”

“What?” he asked, breathing labored.

She didn’t answer because she couldn’t. His hips slammed into hers, and with a shout he followed her over into oblivion.

Luc thought he might have fainted. The only thing he knew for sure was that there was an extended amount of blank happy time before he swam back to full consciousness. He considered it a tribute to his training that he had any strength left at all after that session. Katie McCabe had worn him out.

He pulled out of her and rolled over on his back. Katie murmured in protest and then curled up against his side like a very sleepy, very satisfied kitten. He rubbed her shoulder. Grinning foolishly at the ceiling, he smelled the sweat and the sex and the woman and thought that he had never in his whole life been quite this content.

“Holy Jesus,” he muttered.

His brain was like mush. Sluggish mush. But as he lay there trying to work up the energy to get up and dispose of the used condom, he started to think again.

Something had been wrong. Something there at the end hadn’t been quite…

He frowned. What had she called him?

For a moment his mind refused to work. Then memory snapped in.

Bruce. At the end there, it sounded like she’d called him Bruce.

Katie curled closer into him and grumbled.

He forced his lazy muscles into action, slipped off the condom and hoisted himself to his feet. Katie protested louder when he left her, then she stretched languorously and settled back down.

He pulled an afghan off the sofa and covered her with it before heading to the bathroom to clean up. A few minutes later he was back, looking down at her.

Bruce. She’d called him Bruce.

He bent and pulled on his pants. He zipped them, but didn’t bother with the button.

It might have been funny if it wasn’t so fucking pathetic. Almost like that old Monty Python routine. “Everyone’s name is Bruce.”

Luc almost smiled at the irony of it all. Almost. She’d called him by another man’s name. The name of the man she thought he was. A man who didn’t exist. Who had never existed. Who never would.

Absently he rubbed his stomach, wondering how someone could be so physically sated and emotionally empty at the same time.

Too bad, Vasco, he thought. Just too goddamned bad.

As he watched, Katie’s eyes opened, the blue deep and blurred with spent passion.

“Mmm,” she murmured. “Hi, sailor.”

“Soldier.” He didn’t smile. Couldn’t really. “You called me Bruce. Earlier.” Instantly he was sorry he’d said anything, hadn’t meant to bring it up at all. His tone made her stiffen, that lush body still and wary.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He turned away and pulled on his T-shirt.

“No, it’s not nothing.” She sat, tucking the afghan carefully around soft, naked skin that was still much too tempting.

“Forget it.” He gathered up her clothes from where they’d tossed them around the room, but he couldn’t help watching her out of the corner of his eye. He saw when she remembered, saw the frown of confusion crease her forehead.

“I did call you Bruce, didn’t I?” She smiled a little tentatively. “Well, that’s embarrassing. Sorry.”

He turned to face her, her glasses in his hand.

“My name is Luc.”

“I know.” Katie sobered instantly and shrugged. “I’m not quite sure why I called you Bruce. Sorry about that.”

Luc looked down at her glasses. Made an effort and didn’t snap them.

“Sure.”

“Luc, what’s wrong?” Katie climbed to her feet, still careful to keep the afghan wrapped around her, which was kind of ridiculous considering what they’d just done.

“It’s nothing. Really.” Luc handed her the glasses. He wouldn’t have been able to explain it to her, even if he’d had the inclination. “We should probably try to get some sleep,” he said.

Without waiting for her reaction, he turned and limped out of the room.

Frankie Silvano sat in a chair in his father’s penthouse office, heel resting on the opposite knee, foot bouncing restlessly. He looked through the bank of windows that made up most of one wall and saw brightly colored lights from the casino reflected in the Atlantic Ocean. It was nearly three o’clock in the morning, but the Dream Net Casino never slept.

Poppa did, though, and Frankie had been forced to wait while the old man was rousted from his comfortable bed. He wished he hadn’t needed to take the time, wished he hadn’t had to drive all the way to Atlantic City, but he wanted to use a few of the more seasoned guys for this job, and good old Dad was spending some time at the casino this week. He could recruit fuckhead hired muscle like Arlo no problem, but the regular guys wouldn’t take a shit without the big boss’s okay.

His foot jiggled faster as excitement and impatience coursed through him. He’d found her. He’d found the little bitch who’d humiliated him. Katie McCabe. Now he’d make her pay.

The office door slammed open. His father strode in, a thick robe belted around his thick waist. He shut the door, turned to face Frankie, the expression on his face reminding him that the old man might look a lot like a stuffed sausage these days, but he was still one tough son-of-a-bitch.

“What the hell d’you want?” Poppa’s voice was sleep-roughened and harsh. It was obvious he hadn’t appreciated being woken at this hour.

Frankie smiled. “I know where she is.” His father would know who he meant.

Poppa tightened the belt of his robe and studied him as he settled his bulk behind the desk. “Jesus, the guy she’s with is a Fed, Frankie,” he said. “You know that. I don’t want to get any more involved with the Feds than we already are.”

“I know where she is.” Frankie repeated. “I’m only telling you because I want to take a bunch of the guys with me to get her. So give your okay and I’ll be gone.”

“Just like that?” His father’s voice rose. “Just like that. You’re going to fricking go get her just like that. What the hell—”

“I’m going for her,” Frankie said. He rose from the chair. “Either lend me the guys or don’t.”

Poppa didn’t say anything for a moment, but he didn’t toss him out of the office either. Frankie had noticed his father tended to walk more carefully around him these days, treated him like he was a snake who could strike at any time. Not like when he was younger and old daddy-o would beat him until he couldn’t walk. Trying to toughen him up, he’d said. Trying to teach him a lesson.

Yeah, he’d fucking learned a lesson.

If his father only knew the real reason they were losing so much ground to the Colombians, why Carlos and his crew were always one step ahead, why the organization was now in trouble to the point that the don himself was coming here to personally review accounts, well then he’d know exactly what lesson Frankie had learned. He’d know what kind of a snake Frankie was—a deadly one. Poppa was going down because Frankie, the ‘idiot’ son, the whackjob, had pulled the supports right out from under him.

God, just thinking about it was enough to get him off. But that was going to have to wait. Right now he needed the guys and he needed to deal with Katie McCabe. First things first. He knew how to fucking prioritize.

“Give the okay, Poppa,” he said, and his voice was cold.

His father watched him for a few more minutes and whatever he saw in his face made his own harden. Slowly, very slowly, he nodded his head. “Sure. I’ll tell Tito.”

Frankie smiled, a peeling back of lips over teeth. Then he turned and left the office.

Time to get busy.

Katie sat curled up in the big armchair in Luc’s bedroom, staring out through the bay window and watching the sky gradually lighten with dawn.

She hadn’t slept especially well. Not too surprising, she supposed. She’d showered, changed, even gotten into bed and tried to sleep. Useless. Her mind just kept chewing over the events of the prior evening. Luc. Their passionate lovemaking.

His sudden, cold withdrawal.

He’d walked her upstairs to the bedroom and left her there. He hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even tried to. Instead he’d gone farther down the hall and disappeared into another room. She’d watched him go, suppressed the urge to call him back, ruthlessly strangled her need to follow him, to confront him.

Alone, she’d turned and gone into his massive bedroom. Then she’d spent the rest of the night trying to figure out what in the hell had happened to screw up something that had been so right.

Except she knew perfectly well what had happened.

She’d called him by the wrong name.

Katie buried her face in her hands and then pulled at her own hair. She just could not believe she’d been so stupid. It had probably come from the shock of actually having an orgasm.

She would have expected anger. Anyone would get pissed at being called the wrong name in that sort of a situation. Anger she could have handled. What she didn’t get was the layer of hurt she’d sensed just beneath the surface. The withdrawal. The closing off. In spite of the intimacy they’d shared, he’d shut her out as efficiently as if he’d been slamming a steel door. What was the big deal? Luc was Bruce. Bruce was Luc. It wasn’t like she’d yelled out the name of another lover. They were the same.

But it was more than apparent that it had mattered to him. A lot.

Lifting her head, Katie looked out at the brightening sky and sighed deeply. Okay. Okay, so she’d royally messed up. She’d hurt him, and she had to make it right. Somehow.

What if he never let her get close to him again?

As she sat brooding over the problem, Katie gradually became aware of a sound just on the edge of her consciousness. It was muffled, so she couldn’t place it at first, but then realized it was a dog barking outside.

A dog.

Outside.

Barking.

Spot.

She’d never heard Spot bark like that before, Katie mused. Not with warning and violent intent. Not like she was trying to wake them…up…

Katie’s eyes widened as the implications of what she was hearing hit her. She vaulted out of the chair, stood quivering while fear leapt and clawed at her insides.

“Holy crap.”

Now the faint, urgent noise sounded ominous. Dangerous. Oh God, Frankie Silvano had found them. He might be breaking into the house right now.

“No. Don’t be silly. Don’t panic,” she told herself. “There’s nothing wrong with a dog barking. They do it all the time.”

The barking grew wilder. Then there was a sudden, loud yelp.

The dead silence that came after was more terrifying than all of the noise before.

“Okay, then. Panic.” Katie made it to the bedroom door in two jumps. Where was Luc? For one horrible second she couldn’t remember which way he’d gone. Right. No, left. That’s right, left. Okay, left. Please God, left.

She swallowed, opened the bedroom door and stepped cautiously out into the hallway. For once in her life she actually chose the correct direction, because a few minutes later she found Luc passed out face down across a bed in another room. He was only wearing khaki cargo pants slung low on his hips and some old sneakers. The empty bottle he had clutched in one hand looked suspiciously like the whiskey from the night before. Apparently he’d gone back downstairs to get it at some point during the night.

Katie sprang to the bed.

“Luc!” She pulled the bottle out of his hand, put it on the nightstand, and shook one of his bare, powerful shoulders. “Luc, wake up! There’s someone here. I think there’s someone outside.”

Luc rolled over onto his back and put his forearm over his eyes to block the light. “Ow. What?”

Katie wanted to punch him. “Listen to me, you moron. I think there’s somebody outside.”

“Outside?” Luc’s arm dropped and he sat up in one swift motion, then his head fell forward. “Oh, shit.” With obvious effort, he hauled himself off the bed and looked at her through dark, bloodshot eyes. “Talk to me.”

“I heard Spot barking outside,” Katie told him. “It went on for a while before it stopped. Then I heard someone scream. That’s what it sounded like, anyway.”

“Shit,” Luc said again. He pulled on the old maroon shirt from yesterday. With his scar and his midnight dark hair tousled around his face and his chin shadowed with an overnight growth of beard, he looked like a grumpy and hung-over pirate. “The building is alarmed,” he said. “A sensor on Spot’s collar lets her come and go as she pleases, but nobody else should be able to get inside the house without us knowing about it. I need to get you someplace safe so I can take a look around.”

“I can help—”

He stopped her by the simple expedient of putting his big hand over her mouth. “No. You are not going to argue with me about this, Katie. Your safety is the most important thing.”

She could tell by the hard look on his face that even if she argued, he wasn’t going to listen to her, so she nodded reluctantly.

He stared at her for a moment longer, then released her and headed for a connected bathroom.

“Where are you going?” she demanded.

“Hey, I drank almost a whole bottle of whiskey last night. Where do you think I’m going? Some things just have to take priority.” He closed the door behind him.

A few seconds later, Katie followed Luc out into the hallway. She had to make an effort not to burrow into his back like a rabbit.

“We need to get back to my bedroom,” he told her softly over his shoulder. “I have some weapons stored there.”

“You do?” She wasn’t sure how she felt about the fact that weapons had been stored in the room she’d been using. “Where’s your gun?”

He glanced at her. “I left it downstairs. I kind of…forgot it.”

“Oh.” Not too much to say about that.

The Museum was almost eerily quiet, even its usual creaks and groans seemed muffled. Like a morgue, Katie thought with a shudder. Maybe she had only been imagining things. Had she really heard what she’d thought she’d heard? What if there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for everything? God, she hoped so.

But when they drew near to his bedroom, Luc came to an abrupt stop. She ran right into him.

“What?” Her question was a mere whisper of sound, but he turned and clapped his hand over her mouth again.

Then she heard it. Light, rhythmic footsteps on the stairs. A low murmur of voices. Voices? As in more than one?

Luc rushed Katie the last few steps, pushed her inside the room, then very gently closed the door behind them and locked it.

“Give me a hand,” he murmured. She helped him lift a heavy chest of drawers and move it in front of the door.

“They’re inside the house,” she whispered, fear itching over her skin.

“And they got in without setting off the alarm,” Luc muttered, rubbing his forehead.

“Luc?”

He ignored her and went over to the bay window, peered out, then quickly pulled his head back inside again.

“Well, we sure as hell can’t get out this way. There are at least ten guys down there.”

“Ten? Besides those men we heard coming up the stairs?”

“Yeah. They think they’ve got us trapped in this wing of the building.”

Katie tried not to giggle hysterically. “Are they wrong?” She rubbed her arms, trying to get warm as shiver after shiver ran through her body.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Luc went to one of the closets, hoisted out a long, flat box, then carried it to the bed and opened it.

Katie peeked over his shoulder and felt her eyes go wide. “Holy cow, you’ve got an arsenal in there.”

“I’m just prepared.”

“Yeah, for a world war, maybe.”

Luc ignored her while his hands moved smoothly over the weapons. He chose some and rejected others, worked quickly and with a sureness that spoke of long familiarity and experience.

“We have to get out of here,” he said in a rough whisper. “We’re sitting ducks in this room.”

Katie didn’t know how to respond to that, so she just nodded.

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but they heard a voice out in the hallway. It sounded calm and cold. And familiar.

“Search the rooms. They’re supposed to be on this floor somewhere.”

Luc’s face tightened and he held Katie’s eyes with his own.

“Frankie Silvano,” he whispered.

Katie felt the terror that had been growing inside her flash. Somehow over these last few days, she’d managed to push Frankie Silvano to the back of her mind, even though he was the original reason for her situation. He’d seemed like a shadowy figure, an imaginary threat. Not quite real, sort of like the bogeyman. In an essential way she’d forgotten about him.

What a mistake. Stupid.

“He found us,” she gasped.

“No shit.”

“But how? And how did he know which floor we’d be on?”

Luc’s expression was grim. “I have absolutely no idea.”

“What are we going to do?” Her voice shook.

Luc watched her for a moment, then put his hand under her chin. His palm was warm against her skin. She almost hated that she found it comforting.

“What do you think? We’re going to get out of here.”

“Get out of here?” Katie echoed softly as he dropped his hand. She could hear doors opening and closing. The men were getting closer. “How?”

Luc didn’t answer. Instead he went up to the fireplace and ran his fingers over the stones.

“You’re nuts,” she muttered. “Murderers are out roaming the halls and you’re mauling the fireplace.”

“Just get your purse,” he said, a little sharply.

Still convinced he was insane, but willing to go along because she didn’t have a better option, Katie grabbed her purse and threw it over her shoulder.

Frankie’s men reached their room. When they found it locked, they battered at the door. The noise reverberated through Katie’s head, but the door held. “She’s in there.” Frankie’s voice was right outside now. It was muffled, but shrill. Excited. “The bitch. Shoot the lock.”

There was the sound of a gunshot, the shattering of metal, the thunk of solid wood.

“Luc.” He continued to ignore her, his fingers still moving swiftly over rock and mortar. “Luc, we have to do something now!” Katie didn’t bother to keep her voice down.

Luc turned, and smiled at her with keen satisfaction. “Got it.” His hand slid under a stone and the entire fireplace swung away from the wall exposing a small hidden alcove.

Katie could see a flight of stairs leading off into darkness. It was a secret passage. In the wall. “Holy shit.”

“Come on.” Luc grabbed her arm and pulled her with him into the opening. He jabbed a finger at another hidden switch and the fireplace moved back into place just as the chest of drawers they’d pushed across the bedroom door fell forward. The door itself exploded inward under the combined force of at least six men.

Standing pressed close against Luc in the tiny, dark compartment, Katie heard the muffled shouts of the men entering the room.

“Where’d they go?”

“Jesus, the fireplace moved.”

“Quiet!” That was Frankie’s voice. Then Katie heard muffled beeping. A cell phone?

Luc’s hand tightened on her shoulder, holding her in place, keeping her still in the complete, cool darkness.

“What?” Frankie sounded clipped and irritated. “What the fuck do you mean, you’ve got the girl?” Katie stiffened. Luc’s grip tightened until she knew she’d have bruises. “Where? Her apartment?” Pause. “Then who the fuck…forget it. Take her to the place.” Another pause. “What the fuck do you mean, which place? Atlantic City, asshole. The Dream Net. You know where.” He abruptly ended the call.

“Who—?” Katie whispered to Luc, but he squeezed her shoulder again, and she fell silent.

“Stupid fucking morons!” Frankie wasn’t quite shouting, but it was close.

“Boss?” one of the other men asked, sounding tentative. “Um, what do you want us to do here?”

“Do I have to think of fucking everything?” Frankie really was screaming now. “You just told me you saw them go into the fucking fireplace.”

“Uh, well, I saw it moving when we broke in—”

“If they went in there, they’ve got to fucking come out somewhere, don’t they? You two! Stay here and get this thing open. The rest of you assholes cover this place inside and out. Kill the guy, but if he has a broad with him, I want her. I don’t care who she fucking is! Just fucking find them!”

“Come on.” Luc spoke slow and close to Katie’s ear. “We need to get outside.”

Katie wanted to protest, to wait and see if they heard more about the person Frankie had apparently kidnapped, but she knew Luc was right.

She felt him shift, and then there was a dim light and the blackness around them lifted just a little, precious, bit. Luc was holding a small flashlight.

“Definite boy scout.” Her voice was almost embarrassingly weak. She didn’t realize how much she’d longed for some light until she had it.

Luc just smiled and took her hand. “Come on.”

Slowly, carefully, they descended the narrow stairs. Katie tried to keep her breathing even, but she suspected it was a lost cause. The light from the flashlight was a comforting glow, but it really did little to penetrate the shadows around them. Cobwebs brushed her face unexpectedly, and she aged a thousand years every time one touched her softly and without warning. She gulped at the stale air and tried to remember she wasn’t claustrophobic.

Her foot brushed something soft and unidentifiable. When she jumped away from the squishy object, she tripped and fell into Luc’s broad back.

He staggered, the flashlight flew out of his hand, and as it clattered down the stairs they were plunged once more into utter blackness. He grabbed her arms. They teetered on the tread for one horrifying second.

“Jesus! Be careful, would you?” Luc growled after they’d gotten their balance. His voice was tight. She spared a second to wonder if he’d hurt his ankle again, but the dark was pressing in on her, driving all other thoughts from her mind. It was so…blank. So close. She wondered if she was going to have a panic attack right then and there.