Storming His Heart (18 page)

Thorne’s subtle acceptance of her relationship made up for Rafe’s earlier rejection. Pushing her away because he was afraid for her, that she could handle. She leaned forward and patted Thorne on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, big brother. I’m sure some woman will be smitten with you one day. And if she’s lucky, you’ll feel the same. Scary and wonderful all at once.”

“Yeah, if I live through tonight, I’ll look forward to that.”

Luc’s grin faded. “I still think I ought to go with you. I’ve actually tried, but I can’t see how tonight ends.”

“I’ll have J.D. with me. He’ll be waiting a few doors down in Sean York’s room in the Royale. Apparently Jennifer is so excited to meet me she got her own room at the place and plans to spend a few nights there. We don’t want to spook Jennifer or Glass, so we’re keeping our undercover op small. Between the two of us, we should be okay. I mean, if the woman has anything planned, I’ll read it before she can carry it through. You stay with Storm. Anything happens to her and your ass is grass. I’ll tell Dad. I swear I will.”

Luc snorted. “Jackass. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m not scared of Dad.”

Storm and Thorne answered together. “Liar.”

Chapter Twelve

The Royale Hotel

Thorne Buchanan, Storm’s obnoxious older brother, sat next to Jennifer in her room, sticking to his weak cover as a new Westlake agent. From the shadows where he watched, Richard focused on his psychic powers to muddy the waters. Not only could he instinctively avoid danger, but when he concentrated, he could shield himself and others from unwanted psychic scrutiny—a skill that had saved his ass time and time again from Jurek’s clairvoyant hounds and nosy telepaths.

He studied his surroundings, keen on watching his little show play out. Dark mahogany furnishing, a plump couch and loveseat, and expensive prints lent the main room of the suite a luxurious feel that explained its expensive fees.

Outside the suite, two doors down, J.D. Morgan waited and listened. Richard had sensed danger the minute he’d stepped foot in the hotel. Then again, discreet wasn’t a word he would have applied to Morgan. Despite the man’s genius with computers, he’d never been a competent field agent. Not on Richard or Savage’s level. Disappointed that Jurek wouldn’t give him better opponents than Buchanan and Morgan, he nevertheless watched the scene play out.

Buchanan stared at Jennifer. Two flutes of champagne bubbled next to the couple, who considered one another while in a state of near undress. Jennifer certainly had thrown herself into the role, the little slut. Buchanan’s unbuttoned shirt exposed his bare chest. Jennifer’s silky red dress parted in the center, exposing all but her nipples. She’d draped the flowing ends between her thighs, showing off her legs.

“You’re gorgeous,” Buchanan murmured and stared at Jennifer over the top of his glass. He took a sip. “I can’t believe you work for Westlake.”

Pathetic line, but Richard could see Jennifer soaking up the compliments like a sponge. “Oh?” she breathed.

“What’s a beautiful and sexy woman like you doing working for an investigation agency?”

A soft flush stole over her features.

Buchanan continued his trite lines. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m surprised you’re not further up the corporate ladder. You have brains as well as beauty. A lot of people I met at the company speak highly of you.”

Jennifer’s smile lit the room. She took another sip of champagne before setting down the glass. Then she moved around the table to step between his legs. “Sean?”

He set down his glass and placed his hands on her curvy waist. Whatever else could be said about Jennifer Barnes, she had a sex appeal that called to a man’s base fantasies.

“Jennifer?” Buchanan toyed with her hip.

Richard wondered what she saw in him. He was tall, heavily muscled and dangerous. Apparently Jennifer liked her men with a lethal edge and little brains.

“Kiss me,” she said as she settled herself on Buchanan’s lap. Then she plastered her mouth to his, taking the decision from him.

Good girl.

Buchanan appeared wrapped up in the kiss when a sudden bang and muffled shout from the outer hallway interrupted them. Ah, Lewis was right on time.

Buchanan broke off the kiss, panting heavily. “What was that?” He pushed her off his lap and looked through the peephole. Richard’s cue to move into the bedroom closet.

After hiding, he heard the hotel door open but knew Buchanan would see nothing. The hallway was empty.

The door shut and Buchanan said, “Sorry about that, I—”

In the bedroom, Jennifer hurried out of the rest of her clothes and splayed herself out on the bed like the whore she was.

“Jennifer?” Buchanan called from the main room.

“In here, Sean.”

He entered in moments and just stared. Richard knew how he felt. Despite the woman’s vapid nature, she had an undeniable beauty. She wore nothing but a gold chain on her ankle, framed on the bed by stark white sheets.

Buchanan approached her as if in a trance. “Jennifer?”

She spread her legs and touched herself, whispering to Buchanan of her need. But her eyes darted just over his shoulder toward
him
, and a part of Richard relaxed. The woman hadn’t forgotten the reason for this farce. She wouldn’t screw it up, especially since Richard kept her thoughts shielded.

Jennifer slowly rose to her knees and stared pointedly at Buchanan’s tenting trousers. She crawled to the edge of the bed and knelt to press herself against him. “Fuck me, Sean. Fuck me hard.” She pushed the shirt from his shoulders and kissed him with an enthusiasm that had him groaning even as he gripped her tight.

To push her away or pull her closer?

Before Richard could make his move, Jennifer unbuckled Buchanan’s belt and unbuttoned his trousers. She had the man unzipped and burrowed her hand between them.

That hadn’t been in the script.

Buchanan groaned and tightened his hands on her shoulders before breaking the kiss. “Jennifer, honey, wait—”

“You’re so big,” she breathed. “So thick.”

The whore. Ugly thoughts entered Richard’s mind, his rage swelling like a balloon about to explode. He quietly crept from the closet. One step closer, then two, three. He moved with a burst of speed and shoved the syringe hard into Buchanan’s fucking neck.

Buchanan stumbled forward but recovered quickly. He yanked the needle from him and spun to face Richard. But the cocktail had done its trick. Buchanan blinked several times and passed out cold on the bed.

To Jennifer, Richard said, “Wonderful performance, my dear. So very realistic.”

“Oh good. Did you like it?”

He raised a brow. “Improvisation, Jennifer?”

Jennifer had the grace to blush but she didn’t look away.

“I don’t recall giving Buchanan a hand job to be part of our deception.” When she continued to look at him with a hint of scared defiance sparkling in her eyes, he took a different tack. “Nevertheless, nicely done, sweet. Now put your dress back on. I want to take it off you slowly.”

Jennifer rushed to obey him. In seconds, she stood before him, ravishing in red.

“The shoes too.”

She didn’t question him and put on the high heels he’d chosen especially for tonight, for this special occasion.

He circled her, studying her like a work of art. Then he turned her so that they both faced the dresser’s mirror. Richard stopped behind her and placed a kiss on her bare shoulder. “Perfect.” He nuzzled her neck and inhaled. She wore the ripe scent of waiting death, more alluring than any perfume. “This is just as I imagined.” He drew the steel garrote from his jacket and looped it around her throat before she could protest.

He waited until she thrashed, the scent and sight of her fear captivating. Toying with the pressure around her neck, he took his time choking the life from her, not satisfied until he watched the last spark of light wink from her eyes.

Now to finish. Richard carefully placed her on the bed and posed her. In death she looked like a life-size doll. “You wear the red silk dress and shoes to perfection, Jennifer. Only a hand-crafted blood red necklace could compliment such loveliness.”

He had to admit, he did lovely work. He’d never made two necklaces that looked the same. A one-of-a-kind Richard Glass original.

A knock sounded at the door. Three raps, then nothing.

“Come in,” he called.

Lewis used his key. Heavy footsteps preceded him. The thug entered the bedroom and looked past Richard to the bed. “What a waste.”

“I’m sorry, Lewis, but she never would have taken to you, and we needed to kill her anyway. I tell you what, I’ll give you the Buchanan bitch after I’m through with her. But you’ll have to be quick. I plan to kill her before long.”

Lewis nodded. “That’ll do.”

“Fine then.” He nodded at the half-dressed, unconscious male on the bed. “Grab Buchanan. Use the laundry cart in the hallway, as we’d planned. Make sure to cover him up. Wouldn’t do to be found before we get away, would it?” Richard took one last look at Jennifer in perfect repose, then reached down and took her in his arms. He used her hair to hide the bloody line across her neck.

Lewis hefted Buchanan over his shoulder without making a sound and followed Richard out the door.

In the historic district, Rafe shifted on his couch, unable to concentrate on the folder detailing Richard Glass. He tossed the file aside and lay back, rubbing his temples. Dark colors and energies flowed through his mind. A murky lassitude suddenly held him in its thrall. His breathing slowed almost to a stop and the vision came, unwanted, unbidden.

Thorne in danger, Jennifer dead, Glass at large.

The minute Rafe returned to himself, he lunged for the phone and dialed. “Jurek, any word from J.D.?”

“Not yet. It’s only been a few hours, and he’s consistently checked in. Why?” Jurek paused. “Hold on, I have another call coming in.”

Rafe swore as Jurek put him on hold. When Jurek came back, Rafe knew the worst had happened.

“Thorne’s gone.”

“Shit. I knew you were going to say that. I just saw it too late to do anything about it. Jennifer has to be the dead woman I saw before, floating in the water. A red dress, dark hair. It fits.”

“Shit. This isn’t good.” When Jurek swore, bad news usually turned worse.

“J.D. put a bug on Thorne.”

“I know. But it’s on Thorne’s shirt, and we found it left behind in the room. Get your ass down to headquarters. We need to fix this, pronto.” He hung up before Rafe could answer.

Rafe checked the time. Not quite midnight. He grabbed his keys, tucked his gun into his holster and threw on a jacket. As he drove back to work, he wondered why the hell he kept having these visions. First Storm, now her brother and Jennifer Barnes?

He barely knew Jennifer and hated Glass with a seething passion. More questions, more delays. Shit, what would Storm do when she heard her brother had been kidnapped? He put his foot down on the accelerator, needing to be with her.
Wanting
to be with her.

Except at the office, only Max, J.D. and Jurek waited for him.

“Where’s Storm?”

Max sighed. “She and Luc are together, don’t worry. They’re better off away from this mess. They’re aware of the situation, but there’s nothing either of them can do about it. We don’t want more of our people to go missing.”

“No,” Rafe agreed. “Jurek? What’s next?’

“Next we go through our files to see where the hell Glass might have taken Thorne. We know he owned a few properties downtown. One’s a warehouse that I already have our people looking into. But Glass is smart.”

“
Was
smart,” Rafe corrected. “We don’t know the first thing about his brother.”

“I think you do,” Max said. “If you interpret the visions Luc had of this man, they’re about reflections. Only Richard Glass ever existed. Two men, one identity.”

Jurek nodded. “That makes an odd kind of sense.”

Rafe frowned. “What? That they thought they were the same person?”

“Yes.” Jurek looked him in the eye. “Rafe, I’m concerned. In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never had an uncontrollable vision unless it concerned someone close to you. Yet you’re dreaming about Glass and Thorne. About
Storm
.”

Max glanced from him to Jurek. “You’re still dreaming about my niece?”

“He’s dreaming
because
of your niece. Isn’t that right, Rafe?”

Rafe answered, “I don’t know. It could be.”

“And if that’s the case, Storm is still in danger. I know you want to keep her far from this, Max. But I think she needs to be close, where we can all keep an eye on her. Glass wants Rafe, and if he’s been keeping an eye on him, like I’d imagine he has, then he knows the way to Rafe is through Storm.”

Rafe made a decision. “I’ll go get her myself. Max, directions?”

Max quickly wrote down the directions and handed them to him. “Bring her right here. We’ll be waiting.”

The minute Rafe’s hands closed around the paper, another scene hit him. When he could function again, he felt Jurek’s hands on him.

“Tell me all of it,” Jurek said and helped him into a chair.

“He’s got her. That bastard has Storm.” The short scene came to him all too clearly, and for once, he felt Glass’s thoughts and feelings as if they were his own, the man’s excitement overwhelming his shields…

Jennifer’s body sank in the dark water. Moonlight glinted off the still blackness, the pearly white reflection of the moon mesmerizing. Richard couldn’t look away.

Lewis stood a few feet behind him holding Thorne Buchanan’s unconscious body draped over his shoulder. “What about him?”

“I was going to kill him, but I’ve changed my mind. I think we can use him after all. Put him in there.” Richard motioned to a lone SUV stowed under a dilapidated garage port. They moved quietly over the broken glass and rubble beyond the short pier to the abandoned house Richard had appropriated for his needs.

“Fuck. This guy weighs a ton,” Lewis muttered and shifted Thorne over his shoulder.