Live Wire

chapter 18




Gregor Ascarti.

He was a child’s bogeyman. He was the voice from the dark whispering her name with vicious amusement.

Come out, come out wherever you are, little girl. Daddy’s waiting. But first Uncle Gregor gets a sweet taste of you … and then laughter. That evil, demonic sound that she remembered echoing through her head as Boyd covered her mouth with his large hand, covered her young body with his own, and fought to protect her the only way he knew how.

The night they had been forced to run, they had nearly been caught. Tehya had been only twelve, gangly, always nervous, always certain the bogeyman was going to catch up with her.

That night, he had caught up with her, but Boyd had protected her. Less than three months later, Boyd had been dead, too.

Gregor was supposed to be dead.

For too long she had lived under the illusion of safety. And she was tired of the illusion. The weariness clawed at her, dragging her down, and reminding her, always reminding her like a sadistic whisper of evil in her head, that it would never be over. That she would never be free. That loving Jordan was the same as signing his death warrant.

She’d felt this in Aruba. That heavy, panicked uncertainty. The knowledge that either freedom or death was just a heartbeat away.

“Answers aren’t going to pop out of the shrubbery.” Jordan stepped into the bedroom, his expression a dark mix of both hunger and chilling danger.

He was a hunter, and he’d perfected the hunt. He was waiting, patient, composed, giving his prey the perfect opportunity and the time needed to make their move.

But the prey was cunning, it was evil, and it had taken the lives of other strong men, men born to the hunt. Men who had thought they could protect her.

Slowly, the sage green coverings slid over the windows, enclosing them in a dimmer, sun-dappled room rather than the previous heated warmth that had spilled in.

“Have you learned anything?” She knew the others, Noah, Micah, Travis, John, and Nik were out plotting Gregor Ascarti’s downfall. It couldn’t come soon enough to suit her.

“We’ve contacted the appropriate parties and given them the location of the weapons.” He checked his watch before his gaze lifted once more, sharp satisfaction filling it. “They should be hitting the warehouse any moment now.”

“We have to find him to neutralize him, Jordan.”

“No, our men have to find him,” he retorted. “All you have to do is look very pretty, and very grief-stricken tonight at the party. Once he’s certain I’m out of the picture, he’ll plan his strike. That’s when we’ll have him, if we don’t catch him at the warehouse.”

Ascarti would never allow himself to be caught in that warehouse.

“Ascarti isn’t that easy.” She gave a hard shake of her head. “You should know that by now.”

She knew it. She had fought to survive his search for her for far too long to consider him so easy to catch, to even allow herself to hope he would be so sloppy.

“I’m aware of that, Tehya,” he growled. “I’m simply that prepared. There’s no way he can strike without us catching him. There are too many eyes waiting and watching.”

Tehya crossed her arms over her breasts, her gaze narrowing on the windows despite the fact that shutters now covered them.

Turning back to him slowly, she tried to ignore the heat that lingered in his eyes, the pure sensual, sexual interest in his expression as his gaze went over her, from head to toe.

“What do you have planned, Jordan?” He hadn’t told her what he had set up yet. She knew he had been with Noah, Kell Krieger, and the senator for most of the morning, but she hadn’t been invited to the plotting session. It had begun before she had ever awakened.

“The plan is exactly as it was.” He gave a faint shrug of heavy shoulders beneath the dark gray shirt he wore tucked into jeans. “We wait.”

Her eyes narrowed on him. That so didn’t sound like Jordan, to simply sit and wait and watch.

“I’m not lying to you, sweetheart.” Once again that faint smile crossed his lips. “There are times when nothing else but simplicity will do. This is one of those times.” Then his head tilted to the side as curiosity lit his gaze. “Tey, darling, isn’t that the same outfit that little old Indian trader in New Mexico made for you? The one with all the hidden weapons?”

Her brows arched. He remembered? She was certain he hadn’t been paying attention the day she had ordered the clothing. The shopping trip had been a treat during the early days of her contract with the Elite Ops.

She had been frightened to leave base during those days, terrified she would be followed somehow. Jordan and Noah, along with the communication agent, Kira Richards, and her husband Ian, had all but ordered Tehya with them for a shopping trip, supposedly funded by the Ops to outfit her in more than the worn clothing she’d owned. She’d learned later that Jordan himself had paid for her clothes.

“It is.” Her heart began to race. That something so small as the knowledge that he remembered that day should excite her, she decided, was truly pitiful.

He stepped closer, a predatory male animal suddenly shifting into stalking mode, his expression tightening with lust, his gaze blazing with hunger.

“I shouldn’t want you again so soon,” he growled as he stepped in front of her, the backs of his fingers whispering over the leather that covered one breast. “But I swear, Tehya, the sight of you wearing leather and the knowledge that you could kill a man before he drew his next breath has my dick harder than hell.”

And her p-ssy was creaming. Tehya could feel it, hot and moist, her juices saturating her cunt and preparing her for him.

“We could take a long break for lunch,” she suggested, as the other hand curved around her back and drew her flush against his body.

“If I get you back in that bed there’s no way in hell I’d go for the quickie it would have to be.” His head lowered, but rather than the kiss she needed, all she received was a sensual nip to her lips. “When this is over, though, I’m taking you to a beach somewhere and I’m keeping you naked for a month. Naked and covering my body like a second skin.”

The hard wedge of his cock pressed against her lower stomach as she tried to keep back the low moan of rising need surging inside her.

Laying her head against his chest and feeling his arms surround her, she wished there was a way to delay it, just for a little while longer. She would pay whatever price she needed to pay, kill whomever she needed to kill, for just a few more hours of security in his arms.

“When this is over,” she repeated, her voice soft, her arms tightening around his waist as she felt that cold hard kernel of fatalistic knowledge harden inside her soul.

It would never be over until her own death.

“It will be over soon, baby,” he promised as she pulled back.

Staring up at him, she realized the past eight years had only been the road to bring her here. She had been hiding, and a part of her had known it, just as she had known there would be a price to pay for it later.

“I love you, Jordan,” she whispered before he could keep her from voicing the promise. “You don’t have to love me. You don’t have to keep me. Just always know, if I had known what was coming, I would have made certain I hid better. I would have kept this from happening.…”

“God, Tehya.” His fingers were against her lips before she could finish the hastily whispered words. “Son of a bitch, baby, do you think in a million f*cking years that I would even consider letting you face this alone? Do you think, Tehya, that I, or the others, weren’t watching for a threat against you? That we weren’t doing everything we could to ensure we were here if you needed us? Do you believe, for even a second, damn you, that I could have ever totally let you go?”

Frustrated anger, surprise, and a hint of amazement filled his voice now.

Jordan stared down at the little imp that had both tormented and comforted him for the past eight years. So delicate and tiny, he swore a good strong breeze could knock her over. She had a backbone of pure titanium, though, and a will that often amazed him.

“Teyha,” he chided, his voice softening as he allowed himself the luxury of running the backs of his fingers down the side of her silken cheek. “I’m not a fool. I’m not one man trying to protect a mother and a child. I’ve told you this before. If you don’t stop doubting me, sweetheart, then I’m going to become irritated.”

“It’s not you I doubt. Sometimes…” She swallowed tightly, fear flashing in her eyes, “fate—Lady Luck—doesn’t often favor the good guy, Jordan.”

He had to grin at that. “But baby, I’m Irish. Fate, Lady Luck, the Muses, and the gods. They love me.”

And he was bragging even as he knocked on wood. It wasn’t Fate, Lady Luck, or any other mythical force. It was preparedness, knowing what he was facing, and never taking things at face value.

“Do you expect Ascarti to be at the party tonight?” she asked as she moved away from him, no doubt to hide the hurt that he hadn’t returned the words of love she had whispered.

His heart ached at the refusal. There were days, nights that he worried about the question himself, but refused to answer it.

He was prepared, but he also knew better than to tempt the future. He wouldn’t make plans, he refused to delve too deeply into the unfamiliar emotions that sometimes assailed him. Not until it was finished. Not until he knew he wasn’t going to lose her, or God forbid, that she, his men, and their families, were left without his protection.

He almost grinned at his thoughts. As though he could control any of it. But it sure as hell made him sleep better at night knowing he had done all he could to cover all the angles he could think of.

“I don’t expect Ascarti to be at the party tonight,” he finally told her. “He won’t show his hand so easily. Nor would his handler.”

“His handler?” She turned back to him, those thick, luscious waves of red-gold curls flowing around her as those mysterious green eyes narrowed on him. “Sorrel’s dead.”

Jordan gave a sharp nod as he moved to the bar, aware of her gaze following him as he passed her to prop himself on one of the bar stools.

“Sorrel’s dead,” he agreed. “But Ascarti isn’t a man who can work alone, nor is he capable of leading his men effectively without a powerful commander.”

Giving her that information wasn’t something he wanted to do. Tehya, like anyone else, was more comfortable putting a face to the demons that chased her. Unfortunately, he couldn’t give her that option yet.

She sighed heavily.

“I think I knew that,” she answered, her voice bleak. “Then that leaves us wondering who the hell is pulling the strings.”

He inclined his head in agreement before going to her again. This time, he didn’t give her the option of pulling away from him.

Gripping her waist, he lifted her onto the bar and stepped easily between her hips. Her position was perfect to angle the engorged length of his cock against the heated mound of her p-ssy as her gaze darkened in immediate arousal. Her face flushed, her expression softening as the powerful waves of need he knew she felt began to wash through her.

He knew she felt it. He felt it. It was like tidal waves of hunger, almost impossible to resist.

Sliding his fingers into the heavy length of curls to cup the back of her head, Jordan held her still for his kiss. A taste of the perfection of her lips before he had to become a dead man and live in the shadows away from her.

To save her.

His tongue flicked at her lips, feeling them part as his lips slanted over them and he pulled her to him. The feel of her arms sliding around his neck, holding him to her as her fingers threaded through his hair, had his cock stiffening to the point of pain.

He’d f*cked her most of the night, drowning his senses in every touch, every kiss, every whispered moan he could pull from her until they had collapsed in exhaustion close to dawn.

And still, he wanted her.

He needed her just as much as, perhaps more than, the first time he’d had her.

“Damn.” Dragging his lips back from hers, he stared down at her, his breathing harsh, the impulse to pull her jeans to her ankles and f*ck her like a man desperate for that connection was almost impossible to resist. And he had to resist. The party was only hours away and he would need all his senses intact to end this here and to ensure Tehya’s future.

A future in his arms. The thought whispered across his mind before he could pull back from it. Before he could force himself not to consider the future or where either of them would be.

Don’t jinx it, he warned himself. Only today exists. That possibility of tomorrow arriving was slimmer for men like him than for most. Especially now. And he couldn’t allow himself to forget it.

“Your dress is on its way.” He couldn’t let her go, couldn’t pull his hips from beneath her thighs. “The party’s in a few hours. You’ll be coming in with Kell and Emily. Watch for anyone too curious, anyone attempting to get too close to you or to draw you away. If anything, anything out of the ordinary happens…”

“Then I let Kell or one of the others at the party know.” She gave a quick nod before her gaze darkened with concern again. “And you’ll be careful?”

“I’ll be careful. More importantly, Tehya, I’ll be close. You won’t be alone, baby. Never. I promise you that.”

When was the last time anyone had worried if he would be careful? She made his chest get that funny melting sensation in it whenever she did something so female, and so incredibly caring as worrying about him. Even though the last thing he wanted her to do was worry.

As he’d told her, there were other eyes watching. He never placed all his bets on one plan, or one set of eyes. He’d pulled in friends, two teams completely unconnected to the Ops or anyone associated with them. Independent contractors in a manner, men he knew he could trust his life to. Even more, he could trust her life to them.

Glancing at the clock behind the bar, he restrained the sigh of regret that pushed at his chest.

“It’s time.” He kissed her gently on the lips before lifting her back to the floor. “The Senator’s staff will be returning within the hour.” And he had to be out of there before anyone saw him. Otherwise, the trouble they had gone to in setting up his “death” would be wasted effort.

He couldn’t afford that. Tehya’s life meant more to him than his own, and taking this threat out of it once and for all was more important to him than even she knew.

He lowered his head and his lips touched hers again as Jordan used every resource of control he possessed to keep from picking her up and lifting her back to the bar where he could love her in a way that would have her screaming when she came around him.

He contented himself with the knowledge that she had a bar at her own home, and he knew well exactly how to use it. He would have his chance once this was finished, and that was all that mattered.

Pulling away from her, he cupped her cheek for a moment, his lips quirking at the worry, the concern in her expression and the fear in her pretty green eyes.

“Smile for me, love.” He gave his voice the faintest hint of the Irish that he’d picked up from his father.

Her lips twitched at the sound of it.

“I’ll stop worrying if you promise to talk Irish to me the next time you make love to me,” she offered.

They both knew she was lying, but hell, whatever it took to get her back in the bed.

“That’s a deal.” A quick kiss to her lips, just one more taste before he had to leave her and return to the dark shadows that awaited him.

A kiss into which he swore she fed all the love she believed she felt.

If the illusion was preserved, pampered, and taken care of, did it matter if it was an illusion, Jordan asked himself again as he slipped from the study and made his way to the basement, where Noah, Micah, and Nik awaited him.

With them was one of the two-man teams, his youngest nephew, Rory Malone, and a former Army Ranger with whom Jordan had worked in a few past operations overseas, Turk Gillespie.

“Commander.” Turk nodded as Jordan stepped into the wine cellar at the back of the basement and closed the door behind him.

Low lighting and racks of wine stacked throughout the room gave it a shadowed atmosphere. At the very back, the door leading to an old tunnel and a hidden exit was open.

“Status?” He started with Turk and Rory.

“Casey and Iron are watching Ms. Talamosi,” Turk answered. “The chip you placed in the belly ring she wears is working perfectly. Everything’s in place if anyone makes a move on her.”

“Ascarti’s warehouse was hit and the weapons confiscated,” Noah informed him. “Ascarti wasn’t there, but we managed to get a jig on one of his bodyguards at a bar last night when he used his credit card to pay for drinks. He’s currently sleeping off a hangover in a motel, so we haven’t managed to follow him to Ascarti yet.”

“I want Ascarti taken out at the earliest opportunity,” Jordan informed him as he forced back the fury that rose each time he thought of the bastard still living.

“We already guessed that.” Noah nodded.

“One of the mercenaries working with Ascarti, Mark Tenneyson, has made several drive-bys along the street in front of here,” Rory reported. “We’ve tried to track him, but we keep losing him. So far, we’ve not seen anything or anyone to indicate someone else is pulling the strings.”

“I agree with Jordan, though,” Nik stated. “This setup with Ascarti is just a little too damned handy. Something isn’t ringing right with it.”

“John and Bailey, Travis and Lilly will be covering Tehya at the party,” Jordan mused. “I have the tracker on her and we have every access to her I can come up with, covered. They’ll move tonight, before they believe John and Travis can get a plan in place to have her covered. This is their best bet, there’s no way they’ll find a better opportunity to grab her, especially with the information both John and Travis have put out there.”

Jordan prayed it would be enough. From the moment they had set this up, they’d pushed every contact they had and placed pressure at each pulse they could find leading out from the men they’d identified as a threat.

This party was the only chance they would see in the near future of grabbing her. Word going out was that a team would arrive in the morning to whisk her to an undisclosed location, where her identity would be so completely altered that there would be no finding her.

Whoever was tracking her, whether it was Ascarti or others, wouldn’t want to risk being unable to find her, or identify her again.

“Our contact in Afghanistan also reported finally.” Noah leaned against the wall, his dark face covered with a closely cropped beard to hide the scars he carried, frowned pensively as he crossed his arms over his chest. “It seems Tehya’s identity and her location were betrayed by an anonymous party to a low-level criminal formerly in Sorrel’s employ, Thaddeus Alchoni.”

“Thaddeus is a French-born aristocrat identified as a runner and informant for Sorrel,” Micah continued when Noah glanced at him. “Our contact there called me and reported that word went out to Sorrel’s men within hours of his death ten years ago, that any information concerning the wife or the child that escaped was to be reported to someone they called the Marquis. Alchoni sent the information via a mail service Sorrel had set up years before his death for use by informants who couldn’t meet with him. We have someone trying to track that now, but so far, there’s no further information.”

“Why didn’t we know about that order when it went out?” Jordan questioned, his voice harsher than he intended at the thought that he had overlooked an important detail in Tehya’s safety.

“Because it wasn’t an organization-wide order,” Noah picked the conversation back up. “That order only went out to a few of their higher-level informants. Those who weren’t identified as part of the organization after Sorrel’s death.”

“It was well hidden, just as Lilly’s mother and many of her fine friends managed to hide what they were doing,” Micah growled.

It had amazed them, all the secrets they had learned once their operative, Nighthawk, had been allowed to return to her former life after she was nearly assassinated.

How the some of the impossibly rich conducted their personal lives, manipulated their bloodlines, and bought and sold their women as though they were no more than pets or breeding stock.

Men would choose their mistresses, future wives, or their son’s playthings as young girls, then arrange with their fathers, or even their mothers, for specialized training or interests to be introduced into their lives.

The girls that rebelled were sent to a clinic in Switzerland that had often used torturous practices to ensure they never rebelled again.

They created puppets out of their daughters and monsters of their sons. And if the reconditioning didn’t work, then men like Sorrel had arranged “accidents” so skillfully that even their parents never suspected, in many cases, why their sons or daughters had died.

Finally, Jordan turned to Rory. “You and Turk back up Iron and Casey from here on out. I want everyone ready to move on this if so much as a breath of wind thinks to blow the wrong way.”

“You have a bad feeling about this, don’t you, Jordan?” Noah probed.

His nephew had worked with him often enough, knew him well enough, that he picked up on it instantly.

“Something’s not coming together,” Jordan admitted. “I’m certain they’ll strike tonight, but I’m damned if I can believe it’s Ascarti.” He gave a hard shake of his head. “I can’t pinpoint it, Noah.” And that was so rare that Jordan knew it was usually indicative of a mission going to hell at the last minute.

Noah’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll make sure we’re all on our toes.”

They would anyway, Jordan knew. But that feeling was never wrong.

Looking at the men watching him, for the first time in his career as a SEAL and then an Elite Ops commander, Jordan was second-guessing himself.

“Turk, you and Rory head out and meet up with Iron and Casey to coordinate your places. Be prepared for anything. I want, at all times, eyes on Tehya in some way. If, by any chance, she is taken, then I want to know where she’s at every second.”

Rory gave a sharp nod, though his gaze was concerned as it met Jordan’s, then Noah’s. Rather than saying anything, he turned and he and Turk left the wine cellar quickly via the hidden exit that opened into a sheltered, overgrown ravine nearly a quarter of a mile away.

“Micah, you and Nik cover the gardens outside the ballroom tonight. Get in place so you have a clear view of the doors in case Tehya’s taken out.”

“We also have the gates covertly wired for security and wireless cameras covering the perimeter,” Micah assured him. “We’re prepared, Jordan.”

Jordan nodded briefly. As they left, he turned to Noah, his second in command on this job.

He’d been tempted to take the women who, in his mind, were his wife, as Fuentes and Sorrel believed that if he broke the wedding vows he was known to cherish, then his loyalty to his country would follow.

But Noah, Nathan Malone as he’d been then, had never broken those vows. Even in the years after his rescue, before his wife had known he’d survived, after years of believing her husband was dead, neither of them had betrayed the vows they made when they married.

They were happy now. Their son, Riordan Nathan Blake, Nate as they called him, was six, in kindergarten, and driving his parents crazy. Noah lived and breathed for them.

“You okay?” Noah asked quietly, his darker blue eyes probing as he watched Jordan.