Killer Secrets (52 page)

He nodded again. "He will leave."

Kira lowered her head, feeling the pain coming in waves
from a man who suddenly seemed the least

likely of drug lords.

"Marika, she raised a son to be proud of," he
said then, turning to face her once again. "A son to make a

man regret, and to make a man wish he were strong enough to
give his son the only thing he wants from

his father."

"What does Ian want from you?" she asked.

Bitterness tipped his lips. "My death, Miss Porter.
Nothing would make Ian happier than to see me leave

this world forever."

"Or to see you stop feeling sorry for yourself before
this meeting." Ian stepped into the room, his voice

low but lashing. He strode to the decanter, poured himself
a drink, and tipped it back before speaking

again. "Garcia has the soldiers in place and everything's
quiet for now. Kira and I are going to rest until

dark. Send Deke up to the room if you need me."

Kira rose to her feet, hearing the cool, steady tone of his
guttural voice, aware that he must have heard

much more than Diego's last statement.

"Of course I will," Diego said, a shade of
sarcasm filling his voice now. "I but live to serve you now, do I

not."

Ian's jaw clenched as he glanced at Kira, then back to
Diego.

"It seems to me that you just live to piss me off at
times like this," he growled. "I can't afford to have you

drunk, Diego. I need you sober and aware tonight."

"You have never seen me drunken," Diego snapped
then. "Do not give your woman the impression that I

am worse than what I am, Ian. I am no drunkard."

"I didn't think you were suicidal either," Ian
stated mockingly. "I hope you'd at least stick around long

enough to see this through."

Kira saw the anger glittering in Diego's eyes then, the dim
light from the foyer gleaming on the

pitch-black of his eyes.

"I always see it through, Ian," he reminded his
son roughly. "If I do nothing else, I see all things through."

With that, he stalked across the room, brushed by his son,
and made his way quickly through the foyer.

Kira watched Ian as Diego left, the way his shoulders
seemed to tense further, his expression tightening

more.

"He's not the only one that wants to get drunk,"
Ian muttered. "Come on, let's go upstairs."

He didn't touch her. He didn't grip her wrist and drag her
into the foyer and up the stairs. Instead, he

stepped back to the doorway and watched her broodingly.

Kira moved ahead of him, taking the steps quickly and
heading to his bedroom suite. She turned to face

him once again as he closed and locked the door, then
waited until he stepped to the bureau, set his

security, and stood staring at the electronics in the
drawer for long seconds before closing it and turning

back to face her.

He pushed his fingers through his hair, in the same manner
that Diego had done earlier. The dark blond

strands framed the heavy expression on his face, brushed
his shoulders, and tempted her to run her own

fingers through it.

"It's almost over," he said then, staring around
the room before returning his gaze to her. "Almost over."

She moved to him then, because he should have sounded
triumphant, eager to see the finish, he should

have been anticipating the end of this night, but she could
feel his regret as well.

Not because he would be leaving the cartel, she thought.
Instead, she felt the heavy knowledge inside

him that things weren't as he thought they were.

He wouldn't say it, she could only pray he would realize it
before the night was over, but she knew he

was realizing there was more than the monster inside Diego
Fuentes.

"I came here to kill him." His voice was soft as
he stared back at her. "He was going to rape those girls

he kidnapped. He drugged them, one of them died. He allowed
his men to rape another in front of her

father. He tortured Nathan. He's killed, destroyed lives.
He won't stop. Letting him live won't stop the

hell he spreads."

Kira inhaled roughly. What was she supposed to say? How was
she supposed to relieve the pain that he

wouldn't admit even to himself that he felt?

"Ian—"

"Son of a bitch, Kira." His expression twisted,
his eyes burning. "I see what he wants me to believe, but I

know what he is. He'll never stop. That fucking whore's
dust he created has destroyed women. The

videos he made from them. Those were innocent women. Women
who had nothing to do with his games

or this world. Those girls he kidnapped. The blood he's
fucking shed."

He swung away from her as she felt the first tear fall from
her own eyes. She saw what Diego wanted to

be, and Ian saw what he was. The contradiction would tear
Ian apart if he let it.

"It's not your place to kill him," she reminded
him. "Arrest him. Take him in, Ian. Let DHS deal with him.

Don't place this on your soul."

She moved to him, her arms sliding around him as she laid
her head on his back. "Don't do this to

yourself. Don't let him destroy you too."

He inhaled sharply, his hands pressing against hers,
holding them close to his body before he turned,

surrounded her with his hold, and laid his cheek against
her head.

"It's my responsibility," he said, his voice
heavy.

"No—" she tried to protest, but his finger
pressed against her lips, his tortured gaze locked with hers.

"I have to do what I came here to do," he told
her. "He's not my father, Kira. A father doesn't murder.

He doesn't allow his men to rape sixteen-year-old girls,
and he doesn't torture good men. That's not a

father, that's a monster."

She laid her head against his chest, because she knew that.
She knew what he was, and she knew DHS

would allow it to continue in exchange for the information
he provided. But it didn't stop her heart from

breaking, for Ian, for Diego, for herself. Because she knew
if she stood in his way, he would never

forgive her. And if she didn't, the ramifications of what
DHS could do to retaliate terrified her.

"You terrify me," Ian whispered then, his hand
cupping her jaw to raise her face to his. "I knew Sorrell

would find a way to use you against me in this. I knew it,
and I let you stay anyway."

"Because you know I'm good." She sniffed, trying
to smile, to lighten the pain she knew was flowing

through both of them.

"You're very good," he agreed, a hungry flame
lighting his gaze. "Too damned good."

"I can be better." She needed to touch him, to
hold him, just one more time, she needed to show him

how much of her soul he owned.

"Really?" he questioned her suggestively as she
drew back from his chest slowly.

Taking his hand she moved for the bedroom. "Shall I
show you?"

"I'm all about show-and-tell," he assured her,
lust beginning to make his voice huskier, raspier. Sexier.

She cast him a sensual look over her shoulder, her lashes
lowered, her tongue peeking out to touch her

lips suggestively.

"I can show-and-tell," she promised him, stepping
away from him as they went into the bedroom, and

turning to face him as she slid her blazer from her
shoulders and tossed it to a nearby chair.

The shoulder holster was unclipped and placed on top of the
jacket before she sat, unlaced her boots,

and pulled them from her feet.

Ian's eyes were burning with hunger now. His tortured
emotions were receding beneath the arousal.

When she came to her feet, gripped the hem of her shirt,
and pulled it from her body, he jerked into

action. Clothes were tossed to the side, littering the
floor, crumpled and left to wrinkle as he pulled her

naked body against his own.

Sensitive nerve endings screamed in sensation as he lifted
her to him and his hair-roughened chest rasped

against her nipples. The peaks hardened almost painfully as
the blood thundered to them and a gasp left

her throat as their lips met in hunger and desperate need.

She was only barely aware of falling to the bed, but she
was very much aware of Ian's larger body

covering hers. That wasn't what she wanted. She wanted him
stretched out for her pleasure now, wanted

to watch that muscular, hard body tight and straining for
release as he had watched her softer one.

With her lips still melded to his, stinging kisses raging
between them, she managed to wriggle from

beneath him, pushing at his shoulders, nipping at his lips,
and silently demanding that he roll to his back.

He pulled her with him as he did, draping her over his
chest as one hand slid into the fall of her hair that

cascaded over her shoulder, the other playing up and down
her back, stroking the fires burning inside her

higher, hotter.

She was burning alive for him now. She needed him. Needed
him inside her, wrapped around her,

needed one last memory of his touch and his love to sustain
her in the future.

Just in case. Just in case he walked away once he learned
how she had deceived him.

Kira pulled her head back, forcing her eyes open as she
stared down at him, seeing the brick-red flush

along his dark cheekbones, the glitter of lust in his
tobacco eyes, and the need in his expression.

He needed her, needed her touch and her love just as much
as she needed his. It wasn't a one-way

street; they met, they fit together.

"What are you going to do now?" His lips quirked
as he stared back at her, his lashes lowered sensually

over his eyes.

"You're mine." Her hands flattened against his
chest. "I claim you, Ian. Do you know that?"

Something else flared in his gaze then. Possessiveness,
satisfaction, and more. As though the claim were

a pleasure itself.

"No less than I claim you, Kira." His voice
throbbed with demand. "You're a part of me that I never

want to lose."

She knew the emotions she had glimpsed in his eyes then.
Her chest clenched with them, her womb

flexed, and a sense of belonging swept over her with the
power of an orgasm. It lit fires inside her that

hadn't been there before. Fires that flamed brighter,
hotter than ever before and built the arousal to an

almost painful degree.

"I need to touch you." A soft cry filled her
words as her head lowered to his neck, her tongue stroking

over it as his often did hers. "I need to feel you all
the way to my soul, Ian."

He tensed violently beneath her, his eyes dilating in
response to her ragged cry as her lips nibbled at his

chin, stroked back down his neck. She slid down his body,
feeling the sheen of sweat beginning to form

on his flesh as the raging length of his cock pressed
against her thigh.

"Baby, any time you want it," he groaned.
"Any time you want me, I'm yours."

If only that were true.

Her lips moved to the hard, flat disc of a male nipple. Her
tongue played with it, the salty taste of his

flesh exploding against her taste buds as her nails raked
down his arms.

She loved his body. The hardness of it, the way the tough,
lean muscles flexed and rippled beneath her

touch. The way perspiration gleamed on sun-darkened flesh
and the scattering of chest hair rasped over

her palms and her nipples.

She loved stroking him. Loved the way his eyes narrowed on
her and pleasure gleamed in their fiery

brown depths.

Her lips moved from one hard male nipple to the other. Her
tongue licked over it before she drew it into

her mouth and felt it harden further.

Her pussy was weeping with need. She could feel her juices
gathering and falling to slicken the swollen