The Makeover Mission (31 page)

"I did and it's done." No regrets from this woman, Jane
thought. Not one teeny, tiny ounce. "It was only a matter of time. I just
moved up when it happened."

Jane could hear the breathing in the room. Eustace Tarkioff's hard
and ragged. Elena's short and shallow, as if she'd run a hard race. Lucius's
calm and controlled, as if dead bodies fell at his feet on a regular basis.
Which maybe they did. Could that be why he seemed to be the only one in the
room unaffected by what just happened?

Eustace's expression changed. Grief was there, regret maybe, but
then came a dawning realization that Vendari now had a new ruler—himself.

Elena looked bored. As if she'd had a dirty chore to take care of
and now it was time to focus on other things. Jane didn't want to think yet of
what those things might be, or of how she fit into them.

But Lucius remained exactly where he'd been seconds ago, his hand
steady on her, his expression focused on the woman with the gun still in her
hand. His expression gave nothing away. The man had to be made of granite.

"What now?"

Eustace spoke the words, but it wasn't Elena who answered. It was
Lucius.

He moved first, releasing Jane's arm to kneel by the body,
checking for a pulse along the king's throat. As if anybody could live after
having four bullets pumped into their body from only a few feet away.

"He's dead."

The words echoed around the room.

"Of course he is, darling." Elena smiled with her words.
Jane decided if Lucius was made of stone, this lady was made of steel, shiny
bright and hard, razor-hard. "I am nothing if not thorough."

It was then Jane wondered why no one had come running into the
room. Surely somebody should have heard the shots. Or had they been loud only
to her? But what about Lucius's man stationed just outside? Was he to open the
door any second and meet his own death?

Lucius's next words answered her unspoken questions. "Your
silencer is useless now."

That's why the bullets had sounded like loud pops. Elena had used
a silencer. Maybe that was why the gun looked different, too. Different from
the one Lucius had told her to keep close not too many nights ago. That night
they'd first made love.

It was that thought that had her shaking. Where was the man who'd
held her in his arms, made her laugh, made her body sing? Was this the real
Lucius McConneghy before her—cold, lethal, discussing weapons with a murderer
who'd just pulled a trigger?

He glanced at her then. One quick, silent look as if he'd heard
her thoughts aloud before he turned back to Elena Rostov who was staring at the
gun in her hand.

"Then I shall have to find some other way to eliminate your
American friend."

American friend? Eliminate? They were talking about her again and
she didn't care for the words being used. The shaking grew stronger.

Lucius rose to his feet, the move smooth and controlled. Almost
too controlled, she thought, reading the tenseness of his shoulders, the way he
held his body as if ready to spring. But his words were at odds with what she
saw.

"Is it necessary?"

What was he saying? Is it necessary? She couldn't believe what she
was hearing. What happened to "No way," or "Over my dead
body"? Hadn't he said all along he'd protect her? Was this his definition
of protection?

"Of course it's necessary, darling."

Jane was getting really tired of Elena's slow, casual way of
talking, as if discussing murder exhausted her. She absolutely refused to think
of the words spoken. The "of course" words.

It was Lucius who answered, but not in the way Jane expected. Not
at all.

"Then I'll handle it."

What?

She turned, shock making her movements jerky, her body refusing to
accept what he was saying. She wanted to demand an explanation. Force him to
tell her he was joking. But no words would come. All she could do was stare,
willing him to look her way, to meet her gaze and repeat his words.

But he kept his gaze averted.

"Don't play me for a fool, Major." Elena's voice held
contempt. "I know how it would offend your sensibilities to eliminate a
pawn. Especially if that pawn was a woman."

Pawn? Was that how Lucius had seen her all along? It couldn't be.
It just couldn't be.

"I have a mission to complete." The words were delivered
calmly, rationally. How many times had she heard him say them before? The
mission came first—always the mission. So why hadn't she believed him?

He spoke again, his gaze still locked with Elena's until it
shifted momentarily to the dead man on the floor. "Aspects of the mission
have changed, but fundamentally it remains the same. My country wants to see a
strong presence ruling Vendari. They never indicated who that strong presence
must be, only that it remain friendly to our interests."

Was he crazy? How could he be talking about political policy at a
time like this? Maybe he had a plan? This was Lucius—of course he'd have a
plan.

"So you will have me believe you will help take care of our
liability here?" Elena cast a brief impersonal glance Jane's way before
continuing, "Our only witness to what really happened in this room who
does not have a vested interest in keeping it quiet?"

"I would have preferred not to have to kill her." Lucius
shrugged and Jane's heart plummeted. "But I will do whatever is necessary
to complete my mission."

No. No, this couldn't be happening. Lucius wasn't really saying
such things. He couldn't be. This was the man who only moments ago was talking
about a picnic with her. Who had told her, again and again, he'd protect her.
Maybe he was buying time for his men to rush in and save them? That had to be
it. Lucius would never kill her. Never.

She didn't even know she'd made a sound, but it escaped anyway. A
soft, choking sound that drew all eyes to her. She could feel them, though she
looked at only one face, one set of clear, gray eyes.

Without thinking she found herself shaking her head, denying what
she'd heard, wanting Lucius to tell her in some way that everything he'd just
said was a lie. A ploy. Something.

But he didn't deny it. Not with his words. Not with his look. Not
even with his eyes, so glacially cold she could feel the goose bumps crawl up
her arms.

"You will kill Miss Richards?" Eustace asked the
question in his blunt manner. Not hiding it behind double talk.

Silence wavered like a tangible beast in the room until Lucius
spoke. "I will take care of it."

Jane stepped back, an instinctive, age-old reaction to a threat. A
threat coming from a man she loved. Or had that, too, been a lie? Had she given
her heart, soul and body to a man who lied with his? Who used her, knowing it
could come down to a moment like this, to a cramped room with one dead body and
two ruthless people playing with others' lives as if they had no meaning.
Playing with her life. Only it wasn't a game and it was Lucius who was going to
pull the trigger.

"You said you'd protect me." She whispered the words
aloud as she took another step in retreat.

"I told you to trust no one."

Hysteria bubbled within her. He was right, he had told her not to
trust anyone, especially him. But had she listened? No. Like a fool she'd
walked into his arms and believed what she wanted to about this man. And in
spite of everything, she still believed it. She still loved him and that's what
was hurting most of all.

"Jane." He spoke it softly, as if it was only the two of
them in the room. "It will be quick. I will not hurt you."

The man had said he was going to kill her, but he wouldn't hurt
her? Ha!

Even Elena seemed to have a problem with that statement. "I
want it done now. Where I can see it."

"Perhaps it would be for the best—"

"No." Elena interrupted Eustace's statement, looking at
only Lucius as she continued. "It must be done here and now. As a sign of
good faith between our country and the major's."

Oh, that was choice. Not only was she going to be coldly executed,
it was going to be on the altar of diplomatic relations. A sacrificial goat so
that one country would be pleased with another.

"It will be done. But in my own way. It does not need to be
painful."

She wondered who Lucius was trying to reassure—them or her? If it
was her, it wasn't working.

"You can't do this." She'd always heard of people
begging for their lives and realized it was more than that. She knew, in her
heart of hearts that if Lucius killed her, something in him would be lost
forever, too. She could read it in his eyes. In the coldness of his words. She
wasn't just fighting for her own life here, she was fighting for his, too.
"You can't do this, Lucius. There's got to be another way."

He shook his head, denying her statement or denying what he was
about to do, she didn't know. She had to try harder.

He stepped forward.

She stepped back.

"I'm no threat to anyone here. Who's going to believe a
librarian from Sioux Falls? If I say anything I'll be locked away in a mental
hospital for years."

He stepped again.

The couch stopped her retreat.

"Lucius, think this through."

"I have."

She swallowed. "You can't kill me. I love you."

She saw the flicker of shock, or denial, in his eyes, the briefest
darkening of their color, the tightening of his jaw before he stepped closer.

"I warned you to trust no one."

"Didn't you hear me?" She wanted to shout it. To hit him
over the head with it. Anything to break through to him. "I love you. Don't
do this. Don't do this to me. To yourself."

Instead of responding he reached into his pocket and pulled out a
palm-sized radio. They all heard his tense words. "Elderman, bring Gomez
and the package. Now."

Jane gulped air into her lungs. It must be a code word. Any second
now the long-lashed young man assigned to guard her and another would break
into the room and stop the insanity. Then Lucius would take her into his arms,
tell her it had all been a lie and make everything better.

She spared a quick glance toward Elena, the concern on her face
indicating she was obviously thinking along the same lines.

"Eustace?" Elena combined a question and command in one
word, but it was unnecessary. Before the dead king's brother could move, the
door swung open and two men stood poised in the threshold.

"Thank heavens," the words escaped Jane before she knew
it. Relief made her tremble, clutching the back of the couch for support now
that the nightmare was over.

But Lucius didn't look relieved. If anything he looked tenser, as
if preparing himself for battle instead of celebrating a win.

"Close the door behind you." He barked the orders,
reaching his hand toward the black nylon bag Elderman cradled in his.
"Give it to me."

What did he need with a bag? Why didn't he tell his men to disarm
Elena, the other Elena? To bring further reinforcements in case Eustace decided
to make a move?

She glanced from the two young soldiers to Lucius who was
unzipping the bag.

"What are you doing?" It was Elena who spoke first.

"I told you I'd take care of the problem." Lucius
extracted a small vial and then what looked like a plastic tube. No, not a
tube, a syringe.

"No." The guttural cry tore from Jane's throat.
"No. Lucius, you can't."

"I must." The statement sounded so calm next to her own
outburst that it stopped her from reacting for a split second. Long enough for
Lucius's two men to flank her, one on either side.

She never looked at them. Not when they stepped closer. Not when
they banded her arms with their hands. Not when they held her immobile. Her
whole attention was focused on Lucius. On the precise, controlled movements of
his hands as he assembled the syringe, slid the gleaming needle into the vial,
pumped liquid through it until it beaded and bled from its tip.

"No, Lucius." The words came as a whimper as he turned
toward her, his gaze as bleak as she'd ever seen.

"It has to be this way, Jane. It's the only way."

He walked forward until he stood directly in front of her, his
size blocking her view of the other two in the room, his attention was focused
on hers as hers was on him.

She looked deep into his eyes and saw his resolve. He believed he
was doing the right thing. She read it there. Read his regret, his grief, but
foremost his intent to see his mission through.

As if something broke within her she screamed. Not a wounded sound
this time but a cry of rage. Of an anger so deep and so bitter it slashed
through her.

She pulled her arms from her captors, surprising them with her
move, surprising herself. But there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. It was
the same scenario all over again. The one she'd woken to only weeks ago. She
was the hunted and Lucius the hunter. But she was not about to be a victim.