To Die For

"Let me make this as plain as possible. I will not be a subst.i.tute for your wife. I'm not her. I never will be, and I wouldn't be if I could. I don't sleep with men I hardly know, and I sure as h.e.l.l don't sleep with men who are just looking for an easy lay until they can move on to the next available woman. I need more than just a roll in the sheets to be satisfied."

Shane's face grew dark and angry at her words. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Sugar, but it was your name I called out at the end."

He rubbed his hands through his hair in frustration and stood up to face her, unmindful of his nakedness or how it was distracting her from the conversation.

"I've never compared you to Maggie. Where the h.e.l.l is that coming from? And whoever said anything about you being easy. Right now you're being a definite pain in the a.s.s. I'm not a mind reader. You can't keep your hands off me one minute and the next you don't want anything to do with me. Just what exactly is it that you do want?"

"I want to get out of this mess alive. And if you'd prefer not to see things through to the end due to our current situation, we can certainly terminate our business arrangement. But if we do go on together, I want you to keep your hands to yourself. I have enough problems in my life right now."

"Understood, Sugar. But maybe you should sleep in your own bed from now on just to make sure."

Shane turned around and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. She heard the shower turn on and went into the other bedroom to put on clothes and get herself together. It didn't seem to matter what she did or how she tried to protect herself. It looked like Shane Quincy was going to break her heart anyway.

Shane leaned his head against the cold tile of the shower and wished he knew what the h.e.l.l had just happened. He tried to think back over the last couple of days, but the hours seemed to run together. He vaguely remembered Rachel always being there when his eyes had opened, shoving pills and food down his throat and going back and forth between pleading and arguing with him to get better and wake up.

Well, he was awake now, and he wished he could crawl back under the covers. Only now that he knew what it felt like to make love to Rachel, he wanted her to be under the covers with him. Forever. And that scared the h.e.l.l out of him because he wasn't sure if he believed in forever anymore. He knew better than anyone how temporary, and how fragile, life was.

He had no idea why Rachel would think he was comparing her to Maggie. Maggie was gone. She would always be a part of him, but she was his past. Rachel was his future. Or at least he wanted her to be. From the way she'd reacted after they'd made love things weren't looking too hopeful.

The hot water pounded on his sore muscles, and he didn't care about the bandage at his shoulder getting wet or that the water stung the raw knot at his temple. At least he was alive. The amount of pain rioting through his body told him that much. He wanted to feel whole again, and right now he just felt tired and defeated. Some bodyguard he was. He'd spent G.o.d knows how long in unconsciousness while his charge had gone unprotected. Anything could have happened to Rachel while he'd been down. And he refused to be responsible for the death of anyone else he loved.

Love. The word in itself was frightening, and he found himself backtracking, thinking of another way to describe his feelings for Rachel. He wasn't ready to love, especially after knowing her for such a short time. Surely a few days couldn't determine a lifetime. Besides, he wasn't capable of loving anyone again. And it wasn't fair to give Rachel anything less. No wonder she was angry with him. It was obvious she'd already thought through the consequences of how things would be between them if they took their attraction too far. He'd already told her he would never give all of himself to a woman again. And she'd taken the words inspired by his nightmares to heart. He only had himself to blame for saying something so stupid. So hurtful.

Shane soaped up and rinsed off quickly, the layers of sweat and sickness swirling down the drain along with the despair he felt. He could fix things with Rachel, but they had to get out of their current situation. She was right about having more than enough to deal with at the moment.

He turned off the water and got out on shaky legs. He needed food and something to help the headache he couldn't remember not having. It was time to take back control of the situation. He wrapped a towel loosely around his hips and walked back into the bedroom.

He heard Rachel moving around in the kitchen and decided from the way she was banging pots and pans around that her mood hadn't improved. It was probably best to give them both a little s.p.a.ce for the time being. She needed to cool off and he needed to come up with a plan.

The sheets had been stripped off the bed and a was.h.i.+ng machine rumbled from somewhere in the house. It looked like Rachel was anxious to get rid of any memory of what they'd done. It was fine with him. He'd made her a promise and he wasn't about to go back on it, no matter how much he still ached with wanting her.

He found his jeans folded on the dresser. They'd been washed, but holes had been torn in both knees from his fall. A stack of new s.h.i.+rts sat folded in the drawer in several different sizes along with white athletic socks and a package of underwear. He dressed and did nothing more than towel dry his wet hair and gave a cursory thought to shaving when he rubbed his hand across the stubble on his face. The idea was quickly dismissed as the smell of something hot reached his nose.

His system was off and he had no idea what time it was. The clock on the microwave said six, but he wasn't sure if it was A.M. or P.M. Rachel had sandwiches and soup sitting on the table when he came into the room. Her dark hair was pulled back into a knot at the base of her neck and thin wisps of hair had slipped free. Her face was flushed and there were dark circles under her eyes. Obviously he'd given her more than one sleepless night.

"I didn't thank you for taking care of me," he said as he sat at the table. Things were awkward between them, but he tried his best to put her at ease. They had a difficult road ahead of them and they needed to be able to communicate. "I know I'm not usually the easiest patient."

She kept her head down and wouldn't look him in the eye. "You would have done the same for me. I just hope you're not overdoing it too soon."

"I know my limits. I'm feeling better. Just a little stiffness in my shoulder, and I'll have to watch accidentally opening the wound since I wasn't able to get st.i.tches. It might still come to that."

"As long as I don't have to give them to you." She sat down across from him and picked at her food. He'd already inhaled his and was on a second helping. Her brow was furrowed and she s.h.i.+fted in her chair. He could tell she had something important on her mind.

"We need to decide how long we're staying here," she finally said. "I'm beginning to go stir crazy, and I'm anxious to get to Chicago, get the list, and hand it over. I know the way Angelo works, and Galen Marsh's death will be just the beginning if we don't see this through as quickly as possible. I don't like being in limbo like this, out here in the middle of nowhere while innocent people are being slaughtered."

"What did Wildcat say when you talked to him?"

"Your pal Wildcat never bothered to show up." The frustration was palpable in her voice. "There's no phone in this place, and I left the disposable cells in the car. Wildcat gave me explicit instructions not to leave the house, and I've spent three days staring at beige walls. For all I know, Wildcat could be sitting outside with either a group of FBI agents or some of Angelo's men. I'm not too anxious to find out which one."

"If Wildcat didn't show up, it's for a good reason. He wouldn't take the chance of leading anyone to us accidentally."

"If you say so, but you mentioned the last time you talked to him that you were sorry you hadn't kept in contact with him over the last couple of years. Two years is a long time, and people can change."

"Not Wildcat. He's as solid as they come. You've just got to trust me on this one."

"Fine. I guess I don't have any choice, but it doesn't make me feel very safe to know we're locked in here like prisoners with only one way to escape. What were they thinking putting one metal door and no windows in this place? It's enough to drive a person insane."

Rachel tore her sandwich apart in what he recognized as a nervous gesture. She was scared, and the last couple of days were starting to take their toll. He hadn't stopped to consider what she must be feeling.

"Of course, they could try to burn us out," she continued. "Though I'd hate to think that they'd try the same old, tired routine. I know dad always had a fondness for keeping people off guard. It was one of his trademarks."

This was information Shane already knew. The last thing he wanted to get into was a conversation about Dominic Valentine. He rinsed his dishes out in the sink and put them in the drain pan to dry. Rachel continued to sit at the table and stare at her untouched food, so he took the liberty of clearing her plate from in front of her and tidying up.

He knew she wouldn't welcome it, but he needed to touch her. To rea.s.sure her that everything would be okay. He walked up behind her and put his hands on the back of her neck, ignoring the way she jumped skittishly at his touch. Then he kneaded the knotted muscles slowly until she all but melted beneath him.

"It wouldn't be very practical for a safe house to have only one route of escape," he said, continuing the ma.s.sage for a few more minutes. "Come on, I'll show you."

Shane took her hand and held it casually as he led her into the second bedroom. He opened the closet door and moved a wooden shelf out of the way. Behind it was a square, no bigger than a suitcase, with a sliding door. "There's your second doorway," Shane said, sliding it open.

It was dark inside and smelled of earth and disuse. Cobwebs clung to the corners.

"Where does it lead?" she asked.

"I don't know, but it'll open up into a bigger tunnel and go for a couple of miles. It's standard for any FBI safe house. But if you have to use it make sure you take a flashlight." He closed the door and moved the shelf back in place.

Shane went into the small living room and looked at the a.r.s.enal of weapons she had laid out. "Looks like you were prepared for anything."

"I figured I had enough firepower to scare anybody who tried to come through that door," she said. "Of course now that I know about door number two, I think I'll opt to take the coward's way out."

"I've never known anyone who was less of a coward than you," Shane said. He picked up a.9mm Glock and checked to make sure it was fully loaded. He slipped it in the small of his back and headed to the metal door that led to the outside.

"Wait a minute. Where are you going?" Rachel asked.

"I'm going to take a look around the grounds and make sure we're secure. I want you to stay here."

"Like h.e.l.l. I want out of this place. And what if you have a relapse or something while you're out there? The b.u.mp on your head looks worse than it did two days ago, not to mention how much blood you lost with the hole in your shoulder. You'll feel pretty stupid if you get out there and pa.s.s out."

"I'm fine, Sugar. Almost as good as new, but I'm glad to see you're so worried about me."

"I'm worried about me," she said with a scowl. "What if your friend turned you in and the FBI is out there waiting to arrest you? We have warrants out for our arrest."

"Huh. I'd forgotten about that," Shane said. "Make sure you use the second escape route if you hear shots." The color drained from her face and shame washed over him. He was still raw from the words she'd spoken earlier, but that was no excuse. Shane brushed a finger down the side of her cheek, but kept his face void of emotion as she jerked back from his touch. "There's no one out there, Sugar," he rea.s.sured her. "I just want to get a lay of the land and see what we're up against. If there is someone out there I'll deal with it. This is what I do. If I'm not back in an hour use the door in the closet and get as far away as you can."

Shane closed the door in the face of a very angry woman. He needed to get away and think things through. Two years was a long time, and he was starting to suspect that Rachel could be right. Jones Daugherty might not be the man he remembered.

Angelo Valentine was enraged.

The servants were still cleaning up the mess from his reaction to the messenger who'd had the unfortunate task of telling Angelo that Jimmy Grabbaldi was dead. It wasn't the fact Jimmy was dead that bothered Angelo so much. He'd been planning to dispose of Jimmy anyway. It was the fact that Jimmy had failed to kill his b.i.t.c.h of a niece and the man she'd brought in to help her with family business. Angelo couldn't tolerate failure. Wouldn't tolerate failure. There was incompetence all around him-the men who worked for him were easy come, easy go, but incompetent just the same. If he had to dispose of everyone who'd ever failed him, he'd have a very short payroll. How hard could it be to kill a former interior designer, for G.o.d's sake?

Angelo walked into the den and poured himself three fingers of whiskey from the decanter over the fireplace. He was expecting company shortly and preferred to have the meeting in comfort rather than his stuffy office-the stuffy office that had once belonged to his brother. Not to mention his guest might find the current state of the office in bad taste. Blood still soaked the Aubusson rug and brain matter was splattered on the walls. He'd found in the past that members of law enforcement reacted strangely to such things.

The oval mirror over the mantle showed a man distinguished in years-the silver at his temples and the lines of age on his face emphasized as much. He didn't have his brother Dom's charisma or the natural leaders.h.i.+p that had emanated from him. But he held power just the same. He inspired loyalty in his men through fear like Dom never had. Nice guys never finished first in the mob. And Dom had too much nice in his old age. He'd gotten soft and never quite bounced back from the death of his youngest daughter.

The order of events had worked out exactly as Angelo planned, all the dominoes falling nicely into place. First, take advantage of Dom's weaknesses, meaning kill his wife and daughters, and then destroy Dom. Piece of cake.

Rachel would've already been dead if it hadn't been for Dom's harebrained scheme to turn on his business family and his rivals alike. And so Angelo had had to move things around in his timetable and dispose of Dom first. Dom's disappearance and eventual death had been easy to orchestrate-members of rival families had been glad to help out once they'd learned Dom had turned traitor. It had been even easier for the grieving brother to take over the reins of the Valentine empire. Rachel was the only loose end left.

Chimes echoed through the house and his butler opened the door. Two sets of footsteps clipped along the marble tile and there was a light rap on the heavy doors that led into the den. Angelo kept his place standing by the stone hearth-a position of power so he could look down on an underling.

"Enter," he commanded.

His visitor didn't seem impressed by the opulence of the room. And his visitor especially didn't seem impressed by the company.

"Mr. Valentine. You said you wanted to see me." The visitor smiled slightly and took a seat in one of the club chairs facing the fireplace. Angelo didn't know why, but he had the sudden feeling he was no longer the one in control.

"There's a certain place in my organization for overconfidence," Angelo said. "This is not one of those times or places. Everyone's usefulness runs out eventually. It's best you remember that."

The visitor nodded, but the small smile never vanished. Sweat snaked down Angelo's spine and dampened the Italian s.h.i.+rt he wore. He could smell his own fear and wondered if the visitor could as well.

"Tell me what your plans are for my niece. I don't want that list to make it out of the bank vault. Do you understand?"

"Oh, I understand, Mr. Valentine. Now it's time for you to understand that I'm the one calling the shots. I don't want any more screw ups, and your men thus far have seemed less than competent."

"And you'd better understand where the money's coming from," Angelo said. "Don't disappoint me. And one more thing. A little change from my earlier orders. I want Rachel brought to me alive. Do what you want with the man and anyone else who gets in your way, but I want Rachel to know what happened to her father before she dies. And I want her to know who's going to end it all."

It was everything Angelo could do not to rub his hands together in antic.i.p.ation. Rachel had caused him considerable trouble, and it was only fair he paid her back in full. n.o.body messed with Angelo Valentine, and the knife he carried in the sheath at his side would guarantee it was the last thing Rachel would ever remember.

"Whatever you want, Mr. Valentine," the visitor said, smirking. "But a kidnapping is going to make my price go up by a hundred thousand."

"Or I could kill you now, and find someone else who is more accommodating," Angelo countered.

"You could certainly try." The visitor got up from the chair and walked away calmly, the small smile never wavering.

Angelo didn't take a breath until the front door closed

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

Dawn was just breaking over the horizon when Shane stepped out of the house.

Gravel crunched beneath his feet and he looked the stolen Honda over thoroughly to make sure no one had tampered with it. He grabbed one of the disposable cell phone out of the front seat and a look at the screen told him Wildcat hadn't tried to call. Not good news. He shoved the phone in his back pocket and left the protection of the garage area. If there was going to be a showdown, he wanted to be prepared and take every advantage of the land and any resources at his disposal.

Unfortunately, the land they were stuck on had a whole lot of nothing, and there were no resources that he could see in any direction. The dilapidated barn sat in the middle of acres of six-foot high wheat. Trees were nonexistent and there were no houses.

Shane figured they'd been lucky up to this point. If Wildcat had turned against them their chances for survival had decreased significantly, and it was a danger to stay in one place too long. His old commander was brilliant at combat tactics, but Shane still held hope that his friend would come through for them in the end. Old habits were hard to break.

Shane had used up more than half of the hour he'd given Rachel as a time gauge. He'd had enough time to think of a plan, but there were a lot of things that could still go wrong. There were too many variables that factored into keeping Rachel safe, and he wasn't afraid to admit he was being overly cautious where she was concerned. Maybe he'd lost his edge since Maggie's death. He'd been stuck behind a desk for two years looking for missing persons and tracking down people who were defrauding their insurance companies.

This was not the time to lose confidence in his abilities now that Rachel's life was on the line, he thought.

He headed back toward the house and Rachel when he felt the vibrations under his feet. A black SUV, windows tinted black and dirt flying from under its tires, came up behind him. Shane had the gun in his hand in an instant and hunkered down in the tall stalks of wheat, training the weapon on whoever was about to get out of the vehicle.

The pa.s.senger side door opened and a pair of denim clad legs stepped out. The woman was pet.i.te and her blond hair grazed just above her shoulders, framing an elfin face. Shane would have thought she looked like a perky high school cheerleader if hadn't been for her eyes. She had cop eyes, intense and a.s.sessing as she looked around the area for possible threats. She wore a shoulder holster over a casual white t-s.h.i.+rt and thick-soled Vibram boots under a pair of baggy jeans. He had her pegged for a Fed, despite the government license plates on the SUV or the casual clothing.

It was the driver of the SUV who finally pulled Shane's curiosity away from the woman. Jones Daugherty walked around the back of the vehicle and joined his companion. Jones had always been a big man, but he seemed like a giant next to the pet.i.te woman, and it looked like he'd been hitting the gym hard over the last couple of years. Other than being a little thicker across the chest, he still looked the same-the same blond hair cropped close to the skull in a military style and the same intricate tattoo that ran from his wrist to his elbow.

But there was definitely one noticeable difference. Shane had never seen Wildcat squeeze a colleague on the a.s.s and whisper a suggestion lewd enough to make the colleague in question blush.

"Come on out, Ace," Wildcat called out. "I know you're out there somewhere. I can feel you staring at me. We need to talk."

Shane wasn't really left with any other options. Wildcat was standing between him and Rachel, and his first priority was keeping her safe. Shane stood up slowly and left his hiding place, keeping his weapon trained on the enemy. The action left a bitter taste in his mouth since it was his closest friend at the other end of the target.

Jones met Shane's steady gaze and glanced at the gun in his hand, laughing a little at the sight. He held his hands up in a sign of surrender. "Don't shoot, Ace. Though I probably shouldn't be worried about you hitting me since you've been playing private eye for the last couple of years. I bet you've lost all your instincts, spying on cheating wives and looking for lost kittens."

"Like h.e.l.l, I have," Shane said indignantly, wis.h.i.+ng he hadn't had the same thought mere minutes before. "Any time you want to go a round just say the word. Who's your friend?"

"We'll get to that. I figure I should start out by telling you I got trapped in Chicago for a couple of days," Wildcat said. "It's a real mess up there, and I couldn't leave in the middle of it without drawing suspicion my way. People have a tendency to keep an eye on IA men since we're considered the bad guys. And the lady you're pointing the gun at is my fiancee. She's a lot meaner than I am, and she'll get real nasty if you shoot me. I've already been fitted for my tux."

"Special Agent Carrie Layne," she said, nodding in his direction and giving him a smile meant to put him at ease. "I've heard a lot about you. And most of it was fairly entertaining. Maybe you could show me the tattoo you got in Afghanistan some time."

"Geez, Wildcat. You told her about that," Shane said, feeling the heat rush to his cheeks.

"There are no secrets between us. Which means your secrets aren't safe either," Jones said, putting an arm around Carrie's shoulders.

Shane signed and lowered the gun. "Maybe we should go inside and talk about this."

Rachel heard the beeps that signified someone was trying to get through the metal door. She didn't want to take the chance that it wasn't Shane, so she grabbed a sawed off shotgun from her stash and pointed it at the door.

The door opened and a huge man filled the entryway. He was taller and more muscled than Shane, which wasn't an easy feat, and she figured the man could have pa.s.sed as a fighter in the UFC. Or maybe even the Incredible Hulk. She pumped the shotgun before he could get a foot over the threshold.

"Whoa, honey," Wildcat said. "Let's not jump to conclusions."

The giant of a man stepped to the side and revealed a tiny blond woman, but Rachel looked over her head to the man behind. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Shane rounding up the trio. He seemed unharmed and unconcerned about the strangers who had invaded their sanctuary.

"It's okay, Rachel," Shane said. "I'd like you to meet Jones Daugherty and his fiancee, Carrie Layne."

Rachel looked at the man square in the eyes and didn't bother to put down the shotgun. "You're late, Agent Daugherty. Have you come to help us or did you spend the last two days setting up a way to trap us here?"

"Are you always this suspicious?" Wildcat asked and took a seat at the kitchen table.

"You could say I've learned to be cautious over the years," she answered.