Smoke and Mirrors (27 page)

Dread tightened. "Quit the word games and tell me what the hell happened here."

"A bomb went off," the bellman supplied. "Couple of minutes ago."

The words slammed into Derek's gut. "Jesus Christ. Where?"

"In the parking garage," the uniformed cop answered. "The dogs sniffed it out, but we didn't have time to disarm it. Damage is—"

"Where's Cass?" Derek roared, renewing his struggle to break through the police line.

"Cass?" the cop repeated.

Dickens grabbed the front of Derek's shirt.
"Cass?"
In a fluid move he hadn't used since his merchant marine days, Derek broke free of the bellman's grasp. "Cassandra LeBlanc. Perhaps you'll remember her," he added, finding no pleasure in the hardening of the other man's eyes. "She was on duty."

The bellman swung around. "She was here a few minutes ago."

But she wasn't there now.

Derek took advantage of the distraction and broke through the line, bolting toward the manor. Dickens raced after him.

Four grim-faced firefighters stumbled out of the lobby. "Get the paramedics in here!" one of them yelled. "We've found someone in one of the stairwells." He drew in a ragged breath. "A woman."

Derek's lungs burned in rebellion. "Is she—
"

"Oh, God," Ruth said, running up behind them. "Oh, sweet God, no!"

Dickens grabbed the hysterical older woman. "What?"

Horror sharpened her gaze. "Cass went back inside! To get Ryan."

Derek's heart slammed to a cruel halt—Ryan wasn't even there. He was at the house in the country with Brooke.

"Sweet God!" Dickens roared, and took off running. Derek started after him, but a firm hand closed down on his shoulders. "Sorry,
Mansfield
. You can't go in there. It's a crime scene."

"It's my hotel."

"Exactly," said another voice. "And we've got some questions for you down at headquarters."

A clawing emptiness closed in on him. Cass. Her deep, sultry eyes. Teasing him, crying in his arms, loving him.

"Your questions'll have to wait," he growled.

Another pair of hands closed around his free arm and dragged him backwards. "Afraid that's not an option."

Cass. Inside the manor. When the bomb blew. "My lov—employee is in there."

"If anyone's in there, there's nothing you can do for them now."

* * *

Minutes twisted into hours. Two plainclothes cops hauled Derek to the station and left him in a small interrogation room. There he sat, for what seemed like forever, agonizing over the unknown. Cass. In the manor. When the bomb blew.

No one would tell him anything. Not about the bomb. Not about the manor. Not about the woman who owned his heart.

They wanted answers from him instead.

The bright light of the sterile room illuminated so much more than just the bare walls. He'd known better than to get involved with Cass, known better than to drag her into his world. But even the sure knowledge of what would happen to her hadn't prevented him from taking what he wanted.

And because of that, she could be dead.

Rage tore through him. Betrayal. A raw pain unlike any he'd ever known. He needed to ferret out the meaning of the bomb, but even more, he needed to know if the woman he loved still lived.

The door opened, and two belligerent cops strode through. "Okay,
Mansfield
. Maybe now you're ready to talk."

Derek surged to his feet and bolted across the room. "Cass. You have to tell me if she's all right."

"We don't have to tell you anything," the shorter one snarled. He shoved Derek back toward the isolated table. "That responsibility is all yours."

* * *

"You're a lucky woman," the doctors said, giving her a clean bill of health.

"The bomb was small," Gray had explained,
then
lectured her thoroughly.

Minor cuts and bruises littered her body, but she was barely cognizant of them. They held her at the hospital for a seeming eternity. At the station they refused to let her see Derek. "It's out of your hands now," Gray had told her.

And she feared he was right.

Ryan was fine, she'd learned. He and Brooke had been at the house in the country all along.

She should go home now, she knew, but a need she didn't understand drew her to the badly damaged manor. It stood deserted, the guests transferred to other hotels, the staff sent home, a few weary cops on guard.

Sir Maximillian's grand dream was now a crime scene.

Still, she felt closer to Derek here. She could almost lull herself into believing tomorrow wouldn't come.

Long after the grandfather clock chimed two in the
morning,
a figure emerged from the darkness and stood before her. His face was shadowed, his eyes blazing.

Just the sight of him hurt. But the smell of his woodsy cologne, the jolt of his presence, they destroyed.

Cass did the only thing she could. She stood and walked into his arms. They closed around her, holding her against him as if she was the most precious thing in the world.

When he pulled back and looked her, she discovered more agony in his eyes than in her battered body.

He drew her hand to his mouth. Kissed her knuckles. Said nothing. Quietly, deliberately, he led her from the hotel into the cold of the night, into his waiting, heated car. They drove on, he not speaking, she having no idea what to say. His life was littered by people who had let him down. She didn't want to be one of them.

If one person, just one, had stood by him when times had gotten tough, he wouldn't be the man he was today.

Cass stifled a moan. The man he was today. It seemed morbid to be grateful he'd endured such a lousy life, but the man he'd become was the man she loved with all her heart.

They headed north along the lake, leaving the streets of
Chicago
behind. The cop in her warned her to be on guard, that a dangerous suspect was leading her away, no one aware of their destination.

But the woman in her abolished the thought.

The house rose up before her, as
shimmering
white in the darkness of night as it was in the light of day. His grandfather's house. The place where his truths hid, the
place he'd never shared with Cass.

He stopped the car at the top of the drive, got out, strode to her side,
lifted
her into his arms. He cradled her to his chest and strode up the steps onto the verandah, toward the front door. It swung open, the butler standing in solemn greeting.

Derek nodded, said nothing as he carried her up the curving stairs. She tried to drink it all in, but he moved too swiftly. The next thing she knew they were in an upstairs bedroom. A king-size bed occupied the heart of the room, its massive cherry headboard a throwback to times gone by.

He placed her on the thick black comforter. Around her the room seemed to revolve, until she focused on the enormous hearth across from her, the fire licking in its grate as fiercely as it licked through her.

She endeavored to make sense of what was happening. He'd taken her to his grandfather's house, the part of himself he kept locked away. They were lovers, yet she hadn't been sure of his innocence. It hadn't mattered, though, because she was determined
to
stand by him. What she felt for him ran too deep to be cast aside because life tossed a nasty curve ball.

The love was stronger than the lies.

Too late she realized she was right. Derek
did
hide something in this house, just not the crucial link to Santiago Vilas she'd expected.

Something far more precious.

He hid his heart, that part of him that had been hurt, used and discarded too many times before. Here he could be himself. Here he could return to the innocence of childhood, when dreams still lit the future.

The truth unfurled before her, as bright and unshakable as the first shimmering light of morning. The insular man who drew his strength from this solitary home was not a monster. He'd merely locked away the most precious part of him, protected it,
kept
it far from anyone who could hurt it.

The ache in her heart intensified. Derek was opening to her, revealing his vulnerability and how much she meant to him. She had to tell him the truth, couldn't continue to keep it from him. Sooner or later the love and the lies would come crashing down. She would be dead to Derek then, just as his parents were, just as Marla was.

He came to her, eyes blazing. No words were spoken. No words were necessary. There was only hunger. And desperation. Need.

The dominoes were crashing down, swifter and more violently than she could have predicted. The lies and the truths, all that was lost somewhere between. The love.

It could only mean one thing: the end.

* * *

Derek fought sleep, unwilling to sacrifice even one moment with the woman he loved. She was alive. More than just alive, she lay naked and sprawled atop him, her head on his chest, leg slung over his. Her dark hair fanned out over his chest hairs, providing a playground for his fingers.

Contentment welled up inside him. Completeness. An overriding sense that this was what life was about, this peace and unity.

During the hours they'd held him at the station, grilling him with questions about who might want to bomb the hotel, his hunger for Cass had taken on a life of its own. Fear of the worst kind had gnawed at him, making him wild. When they'd released him, he'd driven to her house, only to find it empty, except for Barney barking at the window. Desperate, he'd driven around, but had not known where to go, until he'd found himself drawn to the manor. When he found her staring at the fireplace, everything had vanished except the need to spirit her away.

No words could convey the emotions tearing through him. Only actions. Wild, frenetic actions, followed by
slow, savoring ones. He'd made love to her thoroughly,
hungrily, tenderly. He feasted on all she so freely gave, yet rather than feeling fulfilled, he found himself famished.

She could have died. His fiery angel. Because of him. Darkness gave way to pinkish rays of dawn. The sleepy sun peeked through the drapes, reminding him the coming day could not be avoided. Questions needed answers, answers explanations, explanations understanding. He would come clean with her and pray love outweighed lies.

He brushed a kiss across her hair. She sighed, nestled closer.

"Ah, God, Cass," he murmured. "Why now? Why now."

"Why now what?" She tilted her face toward his. Contentment shone in her eyes, her skin glowed.

All Derek could do was smile. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Her hand slid up his chest and cupped his cheek. "You didn't." Those fathomless eyes of hers studied his, a silent communion forging between them.

"Oh, Derek," she said at last. "We need to talk."

His gut clenched. The bubble of tranquility began to deflate, pierced by the knowledge that despite last night, she harbored her own doubts about the bombing.

"Cass," he began, dread pummeling him. "I didn't do it."

A moment of confusion clouded her face, followed by something strangely close to pain. "Derek—"

"No wait." He didn't want to hear questions or suspicions fall from her mouth. "I haven't been totally upfront with you. There are things you don't know, things—"

Her soft mouth closed over his, silencing his words. She kissed him wholly, longingly. Both her hands were on his face, her body fully over his. She held him there, her prisoner, kissing him as though her life depended on it.

"It's important," he ground out, sliding from beneath her. He sat and urged her up to face him. Tears swam in her eyes, sharpening the pain and dread. He'd never seen her look so desolate. Scared. She was his brave, fearless angel. That he'd reduced her to this ripped at him.

"The police think things," he offered, not ready for the possibility of her thinking the same things. "The press will say things. You need to be prepared."

Tears spilled over her lashes. "I've made my choice, Derek. I'm not going anywhere. You have to believe that."

The despair in her voice belied the courageous words. "I want to."

She pressed her lips to his. "Then do," she said. "No matter what happens, no matter how things may seem, believe it. Believe me."

It sounded as though she was the one begging for mercy.

"Ah, Cass," he soothed, threading his fingers through her hair. He couldn't take her pain, had to chase it away. "Cass…"

She smiled through her tears. "You are such a special man. You don't deserve this."

"What I don't deserve
is
you," he said roughly.

She flinched, as though he'd slapped her.

"But I thank God that you're here." He slid her down his body, positioning her. She took over, sliding down, encasing him to the hilt. The pleasure was so intense it was almost unbearable as she eased herself down, then back up.