The Prey (36 page)

Loved her.

He moaned and collapsed onto her, sweating and completely satiated. He kissed her neck, her shoulders, her ears. Her lips. She held on to him tightly, as if trying to get closer, and he relished their connection. Even though she wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t let him talk about it, they had bonded so deeply even death couldn’t separate them.

Where had that thought come from? He shivered.

Rowan felt John tense after the most incredible sex she’d ever had. Incredible because she felt something other than the physical act between them, which was glorious. There was something more, something deeper, as if they’d committed to something without speaking.

Then he’d tensed.

“Is something wrong?” Her voice was low, barely a whisper.

He rolled over, pulling her on top of him, and kissed her lightly on the lips. “No,” he said and kissed her again. “We fit well together.”

She smiled slightly. “Yes, I suppose we do.”

“I’ve never found anyone I, um, fit so well with.” John looked at Rowan with questioning eyes and she sucked in her breath. She couldn’t miss the double meaning.

“Nor have I,” she said quietly, turning her eyes from his.

He forced her to look at him. “Rowan, after—after everything is over, I want to—”

“John, please, let’s not—”

He cut her off with a kiss. “Rowan, this isn’t going to end.
We
are not going to end. I don’t know exactly what’s happened, but you are a part of me in a way I can’t explain, and I’m not going to let you walk away.”

The pain she felt in her heart told her she loved him. She knew because the thought of him dying was the foremost thing on her mind.

Everyone she loved died.

“John, let’s talk about this later. After—everything is over.”

He stared at her for a long time and she couldn’t read his expression. Was he angry? Upset? She didn’t want to hurt him, but it would hurt more if she lost him. Yes, she was being selfish. But the great strides she’d made at putting the past behind her would be shattered if she cared too much and the worst happened. No plans for the future, nothing to wrap her heart around, not now. Maybe not ever.

In the back of her mind, a whispered thought murmured
It’s too late. You care. You love him
. But she didn’t—couldn’t—acknowledge it.

“I understand,” he said, then kissed her.

She believed he did.

The whore should be dead, but she’d beaten him.

The fucking slut fought like a cat, and Bobby sported two black eyes to prove it. They hurt like hell, and his vision was blurred in his left eye. If he had time—if he hadn’t been identified—he would go back and finish the job. He’d beat her to a pulp before slicing her throat and watching her bleed like a stuck pig.

But he couldn’t go back to Dallas. He was holed up in some fucking motel in the Arizona desert waiting for dark so he could steal some bitch’s car and get back to Los Angeles.

Lily was there. She was waiting for him.

And this time, the little cunt wouldn’t survive.

Bobby trained his binoculars on the beach to watch Rowan run with Agent Peterson.

It didn’t take long for him to realize they thought he was stupid. The blonde was a fake.

Fools, all of them. They thought they could trick him. Find a Lily lookalike, make him think she was just living her life the same as always. But she’d run, hidden from him, just like when she was a punk kid who irritated him with her narrow-eyed glances and perpetual frown. As if
she
could scare
him
.

Right.

The woman who
looked
like Lily didn’t
run
like the bitch. When Lily ran, her arms were bent at perfect ninety-degree angles. Her strides were long, straight, and steady. No hesitation. And she watched directly in front of her.

Even though the fake blonde ran differently, it wasn’t until he saw her pause at the end of the beach before turning back toward the house that he realized the woman wasn’t his sister.

Lily never stopped. When she reached the end, she turned immediately and ran back, barely slowing her stride.

So he watched closely as she came back up the beach, stared at her face as she walked up the stairs.

She looked like Lily. Same hair. Same height. Same basic facial structure. But she wasn’t his stupid sister.

It was in the eyes.

He grabbed his rifle and snapped on the scope. He almost took her out right there, but it would blow his hiding place. While he’d kill the decoy, he’d lose the chance to find Lily.

Lily was too important. She would be begging him to kill her by the time he was through.

He put down the rifle and winced as his fingers brushed against his bruised eye. It had been three days since the stupid whore hurt him, but his left eye still hurt something awful. As soon as he’d served retribution on Lily he’d go back and take care of the whore in Dallas. Wake her up in the middle of the night so she knew he was going to kill her, then slash her throat and watch her bleed to death.

Then he’d take care of his father.

He should have eradicated him all those years ago, cut him up like his mother. And he’d missed the opportunity six months ago when he saw the weak bastard comatose and hollow. Security had been tight, and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

But he would go back. He’d get rid of the last remnant of his past. Then he would finally be free.

First things first. Lily Pad would die.

So he watched the house all day. And waited. And learned one very important fact.

The bodyguard’s brother was nowhere to be seen. Where the bodyguard was, so would be Lily Pad.

He knew exactly how to ferret them out of hiding.

“Are you settled in for the night, Ms. Flynn?”

Tess sighed and tried to smile at the bodyguard John had hired to sit in her living room, but she was too tired. Ever since Michael had been killed, disturbing dreams interrupted her sleep. She could be in bed for twelve hours, yet wake up as if she hadn’t slept a minute.

“Yes, Philip. And I told you to call me Tess.”

He shuffled his feet and shrugged. “Right. Tess. I’m going to check the doors and windows and make sure everything’s closed up for the night.”

“Thanks.” She walked down the hall to her bedroom and closed the door. She wasn’t used to having another person in the apartment with her, but she did feel better knowing someone was looking out for her.

John had been gone for nearly four days, staying at some safe house outside of Los Angeles. That was all he could tell her. It wasn’t enough. She was worried sick over him.

She realized she wasn’t cut out for security work. Not the hands-on work she’d thought she wanted when she first began helping Michael and John with their new company. Fieldwork, Michael had called it. Give her a computer and some research and she’d be happy. In fact, Agent Quinn Peterson was working on getting her into a training program for the FBI in their high-tech crimes unit. The opportunity was the only bright spot after two weeks of darkness.

Michael’s death had blown a hole in her heart that would never heal. She would live with his absence for the rest of her life. The thought made her weary and sad, adding to her inability to sleep well.

After taking a long, hot bath with lavender oil in a futile effort to relax her muscles, she slid into her pajamas and lay on the bed.

“God, watch out for John, please. I can’t lose two brothers.” Tears slid down her cheeks and she rolled over on her side.

John had come over before leaving for the safe house and introduced her to Philip, who’d be watching her along with his relief guy, some ex-Marine named Jim Jones.
If
that was his name. John had some strange friends.

She hadn’t wanted him to go. “Can’t the FBI take over? I mean, this is their case, isn’t it?”

John simply shook his head. “I have a responsibility to protect Rowan.”

“Michael’s dead because of her!” She knew she’d sounded childish, but she didn’t care. She grieved for her brother. If it wasn’t for this stupid job he’d still be alive.

“Tess, please don’t say that.”

She wiped away her tears and glared. “You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you?”

“I don’t want to do this now. We’ll talk about it later.”

“Which means yes.”

“Please, Tess. Drop it for now. I need you to be strong and alert. Don’t worry about me.”

“I can’t help but worry. Some maniac is after Rowan and you’d die for her.”

“I have no intention of dying.”

“Neither did Michael.”

Tess knew she’d hurt John, and she felt bad about it, but there wasn’t anything she could do now. She certainly didn’t like the idea of John and Rowan Smith being involved. John didn’t throw his emotions around lightly.

Tess wasn’t sure she could live with that. At the same time, she felt bad that she couldn’t just wish her brother happiness and accept Rowan. But how could she? She couldn’t imagine sitting across from her at Thanksgiving dinner. What would she say?

Rowan was withdrawn and unsociable, and she had more baggage than anyone Tess knew. While on the one hand she felt sorry for the woman who’d lost her family so brutally and at such a young age, she couldn’t imagine having her as a permanent part of her life as John’s wife. John needed a nice, well-balanced, understanding woman. Someone more like their mother.

Wife! What was Tess thinking? It couldn’t be that serious. Just a physical-attraction kind of thing brought on by danger. She could hope, couldn’t she?

She must have dozed off, because suddenly she jumped up and sat on the edge of her bed, her heart pounding.

She’d heard something. But what? And why did it wake her?

Her digital clock blinked on and off. 12:07. That meant the power had gone out and come back on seven minutes ago. Had that woken her? She glanced at her wrist out of habit, but she’d taken off her watch in the bathroom. She had no idea what time it was, but it felt very late. Everything was dark, except for the shadows cast by the light she’d left on in her bathroom.

Scrape.

What was that? Philip?

With shaking hands, she reached for the little gun in her nightstand drawer. She’d never shot anyone before. What if it was Philip? Dear God, she didn’t want to accidentally shoot him.

Adrenaline coursed through her body, ringing in her ears, and the gun wavered in her hands.

Her door opened.

“Who’s there?” she demanded, her voice quivering. Why couldn’t she sound strong?

Whoosh
! A sharp pain pierced her shoulder.

I’ve been shot
. Her hands felt numb and she dropped the gun on the carpet. She reached for her shoulder and felt something protruding, but had no idea what she’d been shot with.

“Good evening, Ms. Flynn.” The deep, masculine voice chuckled, but her blood ran ice cold. “Or perhaps I should say ‘good night.’ You’ll be taking a little nap for our drive.”

“Wha—?” Her voice wasn’t cooperating. Now her legs felt numb and she slid off the bed onto the floor, frozen. She was completely paralyzed and at the mercy of this unknown intruder.

“Shh, don’t talk.” She couldn’t see more than his shadow, and her vision began to blur. He moved toward her. “If you cooperate, I promise that if I have to kill you, it’ll be painless. But if you give me one ounce of trouble, you’ll suffer.”

“Y-You.”

“How—articulate. Yes, it’s me, Bobby MacIntosh. Nice to meet you, Tess Flynn. You’re just what I need to get my bitch sister out of hiding.”

No
! She tried to scream. No sound came out. Her eyelids felt heavy, refused to stay open. Sandbags held down her limbs. Why wouldn’t they cooperate?
Move
!

She reached out, her hand feeling disconnected from her body. “Agh.” She couldn’t talk, her vocal chords thick and not working properly. What was wrong with her?

I don’t want to die.

She collapsed in a heap on the floor, and Bobby smiled. That was easy, he thought, as he picked up the unconscious woman and turned to the door.

“Too bad I’ll have to kill your other brother, too.”

John slammed his cell phone shut. He saw nothing but hot, red anger.

The bastard had Tess.

He stared at the directions he’d written down, but they were already etched in his mind. MacIntosh had contacted Roger Collins to arrange an exchange—Rowan for Tess—and the FBI was planning a sting operation. John feared Tess would be caught in the crossfire.

“John, what happened?” Rowan sounded worried.

“He has Tess.”

The color drained from her face as she sank onto the couch. “How?”

“He shot her bodyguard, a guy I was in Delta Force with, and kidnapped her from her damn apartment!” John tried to temper his anger. It wouldn’t do Tess any good if he lost control.

“Phil’s going to be okay. The bullet missed major arteries, clean exit. The evidence suggests Tess was shot with a tranquilizer and carried from the apartment, between three and three-ten this morning. He cut the power to the entire apartment building to disrupt the security system. He shot Phil through a window with a silenced gun, broke in, and took my sister.”

Rowan’s mouth dropped open during John’s recitation, which he kept even and professional. He had to; otherwise he’d lose his focus.

John took a deep breath but kept his voice steady. “He called Collins and wants to swap you for Tess.” He sounded so matter-of-fact, when inside he screamed with rage.

First Michael. Now Tess. He squeezed his eyes shut, held the bridge of his nose. No, no, no. Not Tess. She was alive right now. Dead hostages were no good. He had to make sure she stayed alive.

Rowan jumped up, pulled out her gun, and checked it. “Okay, what’s the plan? Who’s backing me up, and are you—?”

“Stop. You’re not going anywhere.”

She stared at him and blinked. “What?”

“You’re staying right here. Collins called in a guard, he’ll arrive in less than an hour, and then I’m going to—”