KICK ASS: A Boxed Set (75 page)

She tugged the shirt closed, suddenly vulnerable and yet, possessing a clarity that spoke volumes.

She’d thought the anger she’d felt toward Dante still simmered beneath her surface, but not a spark of rage vexed her now. She was frustrated, yes. Regretful, absolutely. But angry? Not any more.

“Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?” she asked. “Why did you let me believe you’d betrayed me for all these years?”

Dante’s eyes reflected more remorse than she ever imagined he could feel.

“I never had the chance. You bolted and I had to leave to handle a hostage crisis in Laos. By the time I was back in the States, you were long gone, hidden in T-45’s web of secrecy. I wanted to be your knight in shining armor, Macy. For once, I wanted to take care of you. You never allowed that of any man. I wanted to be the one.”

She grinned at the irony. “Until this week, no, I never have let a man pamper, protect me. In my family, with four brothers, I learned to fend for myself.”

He slipped his arm beneath her and tucked himself close, both their bodies stretched down the carpeted stairs, the hair on his legs brushing softly against her bare skin. In a window just at the top of the landing, the sunlight had begun to slide fingers of light through the slats in the blinds. They’d been up all night. Together.

“I should have let you in on my plan rather than waiting until I could ride in on my white horse,” he confessed. “I had the ring that day, Macy. I was going to explain everything and ask you to marry me.”

“But I was already gone.” She reached out and touched his cheek, the bristle of his hair on his face rough and wonderful against her skin. “I should have trusted that you wouldn’t have hurt me without having a damned good reason. But T-45 had already been wooing me and I’d been passed over twice for promotions, now, I know, thanks to Russell. I shouldn’t have let my anger get the best of me.”

He smiled. “You have always been a passionate and impatient woman, Macy. We both made mistakes.”

He leaned forward and kissed her gently, rolling closer so she eased onto her back and wrapped her arms around his neck. While her lips engaged in the sweetest, most sensual kiss of the morning, her eyes seemed obsessed with the dawn reflected in the mirror that hung on the slanted ceiling above the stairs. A long pink ribbon of light filtered over the reflective glass, creating an opaque cloud of color. She was staring, entranced, when shapes seemed to form in the glass, lines and curves, then, disappeared.

Lines and curves.

She blinked, trying to bring the images back into her sight. Nothing.

Lines and curves.

Numbers.

“Good God, Dante,” she said, pushing away from him. “The code. I think I’ve found it.”

Nine

In less than an hour,
Dante had every mirror in the house assembled in a line on the floor of the parlor, cradled on a cushioned tarp. Dressed in his crumpled slacks and buttonless shirt, he ignored the stares of his forensic chemical analysis team and continued to pace behind them as they worked their magic. Macy marched into the room moments later, dressed in a sweatsuit and looking incredibly sated and satisfied. In the rush since Macy saw the numbers in the mirror, they hadn’t had a chance to finish their conversation, but her tiny, private smile said everything he needed to hear.

But their personal needs would have to wait. They had a few million lives to save.

“Anything?” he asked.

She handed the computer printout to him. “The housekeeper claims none of the mirrors were original to the house and that nearly every one, so far as she can remember, was shipped here special from Russia.”

“They’re not Russian.”

Sean Devlin strode into the room and immediately grabbed a pair of protective gloves from a nearby box.

“Devlin, what are you doing here?” Dante asked.

“Heard there was a breakthrough.”

Dante and Macy eyed each other with equal amounts of suspicion. He hadn’t called Sean in, and judging by the annoyance clear on Macy’s face, she hadn’t either.

“We know they’re not Russian,” Macy snapped. She and Sean had never gotten along. Macy’s body naturally produced an antidote to the former agent’s killer charm—a condition Devlin resented. “They were all produced here in the U.S., then shipped to Bogdanov’s home in the Russian Swiss Alps. Then, a few months later, they were returned to the States. The entire process seemed to take about two years and the timeline coincides with Bogdanov’s work on the counter-code system in the silos.”

Devlin leaned down and looked at the mirror closest to him. “Have you tried smashing them open?”

Macy had Devlin backed against a wall in two seconds flat, the tip of her firearm shoved just beneath his chin. “Why are you here? You’ve gone rogue. Are you working for the terrorists now or just trying to be a pain in the ass?”

Dante didn’t move. Macy had a point about Sean’s sudden appearance, albeit an unlikely one. His old friend was a lot of things, but mercenary wasn’t one of them.

“Macy, leave him be. He’s probably coming around because this is where the action is.”

Sean’s expression was entirely innocent, which meant he was up to something.

“Or not,” Dante said, his blood running cold.

Sean rolled his eyes. “I’m only here to deliver a message. A private message, to Dante. I didn’t have any idea about the mirrors until I snuck inside and overheard.”

“Snuck in?” Macy said, throwing an accusatory glance at Dante.

Sean clucked his tongue. “Cut the guy some slack, Rush. I designed nearly every security system and protocol the Arm uses. Trying to keep me out if I want in would be a lesson in futility.”

“Here!”

One of the techs working on a small mirror taken from the kitchen raised his hand in triumph. “I’ve got the right formula to dissolve the coating.”

Macy released Sean and the entire group gathered around the tech while he painted a clear, foul-smelling compound across the glass. He then lifted the glass and adjusted a sunlamp positioned above him. A combination of two numbers and a letter became clear.

He passed the vial to the tech next to him, who applied it to the mirror she’d been working on. Again, an invisible layer of silver dissolved and symbols came into focus. This time, one number and two letters.

“We’ve got it,” Macy waved her arms until all the agents had backed away. “Apply this to every mirror in the house and then get me all the numbers and letters.” She speared Dante with a look that said,
Get rid of this guy,
meaning Sean. “I’ll get the decryption software down here and we’ll have the code in no time.”

His operatives hesitated, but with a nod, they obeyed Macy’s directive. The room suddenly swarmed with activity and when Macy disappeared to retrieve her equipment, Sean and Dante were left alone with nothing to do but wait.

They retreated to the kitchen. Sean poked around until he found leftover crab and sun dried tomato ravioli in the refrigerator.

“Why are you really here?” Dante asked, crossing his arms over his chest, which was visible since his shirt had no buttons to fasten, thanks to Macy.

Sean popped a large, cold pasta square in his mouth. “I thought I saw Macy on the monitor the other day. Did some checking around, realized what was going on. You wanted her back.”

Dante frowned. “This surprises you?”

“After you nearly died, no. Have you told her?”

A lump formed in Dante’s throat. Talking about his near-death experiences didn’t come easy to him. In fact, except for Sean, he’d discussed the incident with no one outside the official debriefing and the mandatory consultation with the department psychiatrist. “There’s been no time. Maybe when this is all over.”

Sean nodded, but didn’t look convinced.

“Why do you care?” Dante asked. “You gave up the spy game. Why aren’t you getting drunk on Bourbon Street or taking off to surf some pipeline somewhere?”

Sean chuckled, but ignored Dante’s rhetorical question—the one that really meant he wished Sean would keep his nose out of his private life.

“If the mission was deemed classified, you can’t tell her about what happened to you and still keep your job,” Sean pointed out.

Dante cursed. He’d broken so many rules already—well, more like created his own to serve his own needs. His own desires. He was so close to getting Macy back—but he knew if he withheld something so important as the moment he’d realized that he had to win her back, she might never trust him again.

So far, he’d avoided revealing any classified information to her, an agent from a rival organization. If he did, he could kiss his career with the Arm goodbye. And rightly so. But if he wanted her back in his life for more than just this one week, he’d have to tell her everything.

The whole unvarnished truth.

Even if it meant his career.

He’d known the situation might come down to hard choices. Macy hadn’t yet said the words, he knew she was close to forgiving him, if she hadn’t already. They’d made love in their old, hot, wild style, but somehow the passion had run deeper than either of them ever imagined. She’d listened to his explanation. She’d trusted that what he’d said was the truth. That alone told him that her heart was opened. He wasn’t going to let something as insignificant as his job stand in the way of their future.

“I’m willing to sacrifice what I have to, Sean. I love her.”

With a smile, his friend finished off the last of the ravioli, wiped his hands on his jeans and then clapped him on the shoulder. “I thought you might be thinking along those lines.” He dug into his back pocket and pulled out a tiny purple velvet bag, one Dante instantly recognized.

“Where did you get that?” he said, swiping the small sack out of his hand.

“From your place. The minute I saw Macy on that monitor, I figured you’d need it.” Sean grabbed a bottled water from the refrigerator, gave his friend a salute and then let himself out the backdoor. “Call me when you set the date, okay?”

Once he was alone, Dante untied the gold string and turned the contents of the sack into his palm. Part of him couldn’t believe that he’d kept the ring after all these years. Part of him was terrified Macy would say no. But for the first time in his life, he knew one thing throughout his entire body and soul. He wanted Macy as his wife, even if he’d have to save the world to accomplish his task.

When he heard footsteps down the hall, he pocketed the ring.

“I have the counter-code,” Macy announced, her face flushed with excitement. “I just transmitted the series to the T-45 operatives at the Russian Central Command. The system will be down in minutes and from their remote location, there is no way the terrorists can launch the missile. We’ve won!”

He inhaled deeply and pasted on his dourest face. “That, my dear Macy, remains to be seen.”

* * *

Macy paced her room, which didn’t do much to curb her anxiety since three steps in either direction got her from wall to wall. Nearly a half hour had passed with no official word from Abe or the agents in Russia. Had her software failed to reconstruct the code correctly? Had they missed a mirror somewhere in the house that contained a crucial combination? Fear and doubts swam in her brain, propelled by the most puzzling turn of the day.

Dante’s sudden coolness.

She slammed onto the bed, her hands shaking. She’d given him what he wanted. They’d made love in the early morning hour and had talked about the past. Now that he’d tasted her again and unburdened his soul, was he done?

Now that she knew the truth, she accepted her own culpability in the destruction of their relationship. She hadn’t trusted him to take care of her. She hadn’t trusted that he loved her too much to stab her in the back for the sake of his own career. She hadn’t given him a chance to explain. Instead, she’d abandoned him.

She hadn’t believed in their love then, but she did now. And she wasn’t about to allow misconceptions to ruin their chance to be together again. She jumped off the bed, ready to track him down and find out what the hell was going on when he appeared in the doorway, his face clean-shaven and his signature scent teasing her from a distance.

She straightened her shoulders, ready to fight for what she wanted.

Dante.

“What’s the news?” she asked, her gaze darting to the paper he held loosely in his hand.

“The code worked,” he answered simply, his smile so small, an icy stream of dread coiled through her veins. “The system is disabled and the terrorists can’t launch any missiles. They’re attempting to escape. The Russians have three in custody and our government has four in Afghanistan. They were a large cell, but we’ve got the leaders.”

Strangely, he didn’t hand her whatever missive he was holding. A communiqué from Abe? Her orders? A commendation from the President? Or maybe, the note had nothing whatsoever to do with her.

From the intense look in his eyes, she doubted that scenario.

“What’s wrong?”

Dante shrugged. “It’s over. You found the code and saved the world. Now, you can go back to France and never see me again.”

She stepped back, remembering only after she stumbled that the bed was right behind her. “No, Dante, I can’t.” With a deep breath, she strode forward, searching his eyes for some clue that would tell her what his assumption was really all about. “You don’t really think I can leave again, do you, after all that’s happened between us?”

He folded his arms over his chest. “Three days ago, you said you could sleep with me and leave without giving me a second thought.”

“Three days ago, I didn’t know how much you’d changed or how wrong I was about what happened in the past.”

His eyes widened, the gray finally lighting with a glimmer of something she’d best describe as hope. “You forgive me?”

She pressed her lips together. “I was as much to blame as you. I should have trusted you. I shouldn’t have put my career aspirations ahead of what we had together. The truth was, Dante, I wanted to join T-45 long before Russell screwed me over. When I thought you’d betrayed me, I jumped at the chance to leave. I never wanted to choose between you and my career.”