Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
A s soon as Kelli hung up the phone, Griz snatched it away from her.
“Nicely done,” she snapped, turning to her husband. “You’ve got it covered from here?”
“Of course. I’ll meet our friend MacArthur and explain the new financial terms of the deal. If he’s not willing to double his offer, we’ll apply the necessary leverage.”
They both looked at Kelli. She shivered, knowing damn well she was the leverage.
Fuck .
Had she done the wrong thing? Had there been any choice?
If she hadn’t made the call, they would have killed her. At least his way, she had some hope Mac had gotten her message. That somehow, he could still get them both out of this. All she could do now was put her trust in him.
Easier said than done.
She swallowed and looked at Griz. “So I’m staying here?”
“We’re staying here,” Griz corrected, looking at her husband before turning back to Kelli. “You and me and the four armed guards positioned outside the building. In case you get any ideas about running away, they’ve been instructed to blow your pretty little head off.”
Kelli balled her hands into fists. “All this for the person who fixed your lizard’s dick?”
Zapata glanced at his watch, ignoring her. He turned to his wife and spoke low in Spanish. “I’m going now. You know what to do if I call.”
“I have it under control,” Griz said.
Zapata planted a disgusting wet kiss on his wife’s lips, and Kelli tried not to shudder. She wondered if she’d ever get a chance to kiss Mac again, and the thought made her eyes prick with tears.
She blinked them back. Don’t let them see you cry. You have to stay strong .
The voice in her head wasn’t her own. It was Mac’s.
She swallowed hard and forced herself to look at Griz as Zapata shut the door behind him.
Griz tossed her hair and glared at Kelli. “I suppose you think you’re pretty hot shit.”
“You’re holding me at gunpoint,” she fired back. “I wouldn’t say this is one of my highest moments of self-esteem.”
Griz snorted in disgust. “Mac never got serious about anyone he dated. Not even me. What the hell is so special about you?”
“He likes my knitting?”
The punch was so swift, Kelli never saw it coming. She doubled over, trying not to gag. “For fuck’s sake,” she grunted. “I can’t even knit.”
“You think you’re so funny,” Griz said. “So cute and clever and all he’s ever wanted.”
“Or maybe he’s not a fan of crazy bitches with guns,” Kelli tried, straightening up and bracing for another blow. “Just a theory.”
She expected a punch to the face this time, but Griz just glared at her and stalked away. Kelli fell silent as Griz paced, her agitation evident in the way she raked her fingers through her hair and muttered Spanish curses Kelli was grateful not to understand.
When Griz turned back to face her, there was ice in her eyes. “You know he’ll be dead one way or the other by the end of the day,” she snarled. “So will you. We needed you to lure Mac where we want him, but there’s no reason to keep either of you alive once the job is done.”
Kelli swallowed hard. She’d figured as much, but hearing Griz say it aloud made the reality sink in. “Guess you’ll have to find someone else to fix your lizard’s dick next time.”
Griz sneered. “That’s hardly my concern. I can’t stand the stupid animal anyway.”
If Kelli hadn’t already wanted to punch her, she would have really had the urge now. It wasn’t going to happen—not with Griz still holding the pistol and waving it around like some psycho. If only there were some way for Kelli to get her hands on it?—
A sharp crack outside snapped Kelli’s attention to the door. A second crack sounded, and Kelli held her breath, waiting for more. She wasn’t terribly familiar with the sound of gunfire, but that’s what it sounded like to her untrained ears.
“There sure seem to be a lot of cars backfiring around here,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “Sounds like a catalytic converter. Or maybe a faulty fuel pump or?—”
“Shut up.” Griz’s face creased into a frown. She edged closer to Kelli, pistol raised. “They’re probably just shooting at stray dogs. Just in case though, it’s a good thing I’ve got a hostage.”
“Good thing,” Kelli repeated, not thinking it was a very good thing at all.
They stood like that for several heartbeats—one? two? a dozen?—their eyes fixed on the door, Griz’s fingers locked on Kelli’s arm.
The door burst open, and Mac charged through it with four men in fatigues on his heels. But it was Mac who held Kelli’s attention, Mac whose eyes locked on hers as he marched forward with menace in his eyes and a wicked- looking gun in his hand.
“Let her go, Griz,” he commanded.
Griz gripped Kelli’s arm tighter and raised the pistol to Kelli’s temple. “Not a chance.”
Mac’s gun was pointed straight at Griz’s head, while Griz aimed hers at Kelli’s. Neither position seemed the point to a peaceful resolution.
“I’ll shoot her,” Griz said. “You know I will.”
“And I’ll shoot you, then your backstabbing husband. How does that serve you?”
“So how about this,” Griz said, digging her nails into Kelli’s arm. “Back off, and I might let her live. That’s what you want, right?”
“There are a lot of things I want,” Mac said coolly, his eyes shifting to Kelli’s. He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes oddly suggestive. “Including my fiancée down on her knees.”
“What?” Griz sputtered. “At a time like this, you’re thinking of?—”
Kelli dropped to her knees, jerking her arm from Griz’s grasp as she slid down and out of the way. The gunshot was loud—louder than she expected—and Kelli cried out and covered her head with her hands. She squeezed her eyes shut as footsteps pounded around her and the smell of gunpowder filled her nostrils. She felt the body crumple beside her but couldn’t bring herself to look.
What if she’d read Mac’s order wrong? What if he was the one hit? What if ?—
“Kelli, look at me.”
She opened her eyes and pulled her hands from her face. Mac was crouched down beside her looking solid and alive as he pulled her into his arms. He wasn’t wearing sunglasses, and his brown eyes found hers, searching. She swallowed, locking her gaze with his as everything inside her ached with emotion.
“Is she—” Kelli couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
“Griz is dead,” Mac said flatly. “And you’re alive. Thank God. Are you okay?”
“I think so,” she said. Her voice sounded hoarse, and her whole body was shaking. “Hank got in a few good punches before I got him down, but I don’t think I’m badly hurt.”
Mac cursed and hugged her tighter, and she felt the trembling start to subside. “Why aren’t you on the cliff?” she asked. “How did you find me?”
“Your ring.”
“What?”
“It’s a tracking device. I had a feeling it might come in handy, but I didn’t realize how soon.”
She swallowed, realization dawning as she gazed down at the stone. She studied it, blinking back tears, then looked up at Mac. “You saved my life.”
“You saved your own life,” he said. “Unless Hank tied his own hands together with surgical tubing?”
Kelli looked over at Hank’s prone form. One of Mac’s men was taking his pulse, and Kelli shuddered at the sight of it. “He’ll wake up shortly.”
“He’ll wish he hadn’t.”
Kelli swallowed, her brain still stuck on the knowledge that Mac had rescued her. That he’d come through for her, that she could count on him to be there for her no matter what.
“You saved me,” she said again. “If it weren’t for you ordering me down on my knees?—”
“If it weren’t for your crazy anti-marriage vows and your phony declaration of love?—”
“Mac,” she said, swallowing hard as realization dawned. She looked him straight in the eye, unblinking, unwilling to look away for even a moment. She licked her lips. “It wasn’t phony.”
His eyes went cold. “What?”
She took a deep breath. Keep the story as close to the truth as possible .
“It wasn’t phony,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “I’ve been fighting it for a long time, trying to pretend it wasn’t happening—that I wasn’t developing real feelings for you and I could still walk away and I didn’t really love you—but I am and I can’t and I do.”
She was sobbing in earnest now, her heart a twisted mess of relief and joy and sorrow and love. Mostly love.
Mac just stared at her. Then he stood up, his expression completely unreadable. He took two steps back, and Kelli went cold all over.
“Brian and Carlo will take you to the hospital now,” he said, tucking his gun back into the holster and taking another step away. “We need to make sure you’re okay. After that, you’re free to go. I’ll have the money wired to your account first thing in the morning.”
Kelli blinked. He hadn’t thrown a single punch, but his words hit harder than any blow Hank had delivered. What the hell had she expected?
To love. Honor. Cherish.
Idiot .
“Mac—”
“I have to go,” he said again, reaching behind him for the doorknob. “I have to—” He raked his fingers through his hair, making it stand up in unruly spikes that Kelli longed to smooth down with her palms, but she made no move to get up off the floor. “Zapata,” Mac choked out. “The cliff. Payback. I need to— fuck !”
He pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket and jerked them on. Then he turned and shoved his way out the door, leaving Kelli speechless on the floor.
“Fuck,” she repeated, staring at the door. “Two weeks ago, that was all I needed, too.”
After it was all over, Mac drove around the city for hours. He had no idea how long, but it was still light when he left Zapata’s house and now the night sky was pitch-black and pockmarked by a million blinking stars.
What the hell had he done?
He’d almost gotten her killed. Christ. The person who meant more to him than anyone else in the world had nearly lost her life because of him.
Again .
How could he have been so stupid? How could he have let his guard down like that? It wouldn’t happen again. He’d make sure of that. He’d get her back on a plane tonight if he could, or tomorrow morning at the latest. He’d never see her again, that much was obvious, but at least she’d be safe from terrorists and arms dealers and double-crossing undercover agents.
And from me .
It was after midnight when he got back to the house. He made his way up the walk praying to every deity he could imagine that his mother would be asleep. Praying Kelli wouldn’t be there to greet him. Praying he could be completely alone to kick himself over and over until he?—
“Hello, Mac.”
Mac closed his eyes and shook his head. “God hates me.”
“Good to see you, too, big brother.”
Grant’s voice was cheerful as always, but there was an edge to it. It might have been Mac’s imagination. It also might have been the fact that he was lurking in the shadows, his back against the side of the house like he was lying in wait for prey.
That would be me , Mac thought grimly.
“What are you doing here, Grant? And why the fuck are you standing outside in the dark?”
“Waiting for you. Gotta say, your reflexes are going to shit. I could have double-tapped you between the eyes the second you got out of the car if I were a criminal thug instead of your loving brother.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
Grant pushed away from the house stretching under the porch light, as he studied Mac with an unsettling intensity. “Want to tell me what happened?”
“Zapata double-crossed me,” he said. “Hank and Griz and?—”
“I know all about that,” Grant said, waving a dismissive hand. “Carlo told me about it when he got back from the hospital. I meant what happened with Kelli.”
“Kelli?”
“Jesus, Mac.” Grant shook his head, looking disgusted. “Your fake fiancée? The woman who loves you for real and who you love back if only you pulled your head out of your ass for ten minutes?”
“Oh. That Kelli.”
Grant folded his arms over his chest. “You’re a dick.”
“Thank you. Can I please enter my own home now?”
“No.”
Mac stared at his brother, trying to remember the last time Grant had stood up to him. He was pretty sure his kid brother had still been in diapers and the incident had involved a dispute about a plastic army figure. It wasn’t that Grant was a pushover or a wimp. He just preferred to choose his battles.
Mac sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “Why is this your battle?” he asked tiredly.
“Because you’re being a dumbass. I saw how you looked at her and how she looked at you.”
“With terror?”
“Exactly!”
Mac shook his head. “And I should chase after that because?”
“Because she’s scared to death of commitment, but there’s something else that scares her more.”
“My insane family?”
Grant ignored him. “The fear that you’ll leave her. Congratulations, that’s what you just did.”
Mac sighed. “Why are you busting my chops on this?”
“Because you’re afraid, too.”
“I just tracked down a notorious arms dealer and shoved him over a cliff to his own death. What the hell would I be afraid of?”
Grant’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch. “You got Zapata?”
Mac nodded, too tired to speak. “Good. That’s half your fear, anyway.”
“What is?”
“The fear of not being able to protect the people you love. You saved Kelli. From the bad guys, anyway. Just not from yourself.”
“Since when did you become Sigmund Fucking Freud?”
“Since I watched my big brother screw up the best thing that ever happened to him,” Grant barked. “I love you, but you’re being an idiot.”
Mac raked his fingers through his hair again and fought the urge to kick something. “I don’t have time for this.”
“You love her. You know you do, and she loves you, too. Now go find her.”
“Find her?” Mac asked, a sense of alarm jolting through him. “She’s gone? Where is she?”
Grant shook his head. “You’re such a dumbass sometimes.”
“What?”
“You know her. Better than you know yourself, it looks like. You can figure out where she went. The question is, do you have the balls to go to her?”
“You’re starting to piss me off with this shrink act.”
“Good. It’s about goddamn time you showed a little emotion.”
Grant stared him down for a moment, arms folded over his chest. Mac stared back, trying not to let his brother’s words get to him. At last Grant turned and opened the front door. He stepped inside, casting one last look over his shoulder.
Mac hesitated, part of him wanting to follow. To just go upstairs, crawl into bed, and pretend the whole goddamn thing never happened. No fake engagement, no sex games, no confessions or expectations.
No sunny laughter or whispered conversations or bright turquoise eyes looking straight into your soul .
“Fuck you,” Mac said, as much to himself as to his brother.
“That’s the spirit.”
Mac shook his head. Then he pushed past his brother and stalked into the house.
His fists were still clenched when he got to the main bedroom, and he made a conscious effort to uncurl his fingers.
Her suitcases were packed and piled up beside the door.
He scanned the room, looking for any trace of her. On the dresser, he spotted a large manila envelope. He walked over and picked it up, expecting a letter from her telling him what an asshole he was. How he’d let her down, betrayed her trust, proven himself unworthy and unreliable.
She’d be right .
But the envelope wasn’t addressed to him. It bore her name, in handwriting that looked a lot like his brother’s. Pushing aside the voice that told him he shouldn’t be snooping, he opened the flap on the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of notebook paper. More jagged handwriting he recognized as Grant’s. He frowned down at the page and began to read.
Kelli,
Thought you might like to keep some of these. If my brother ever pulls his head out of his ass, maybe they’ll come in handy.
Love you (but only like a sister, so don’t get creeped out),
Grant
Mac frowned and set the paper aside. He reached back into the envelope, and pulled out a handful of five-by-seven photos. It took him a moment to register what he was seeing.
Kelli on the beach laughing up at the sky.
Kelli twirling in the sand, curls spilling into the sunshine around her.
Kelli with a perfect, white seashell in the palm of her hand and a sparkle of sunlight in her eyes.
Kelli up close with a look of love so intense, Mac felt his lungs seize.
He flipped to the next photo and stared.
It was a picture of the two of them, faces touching, eyes locked together, lips so close he could swear he felt her breath against his cheek. Mac’s hand was on her face, and Kelli looked at him with that same spellbound expression in the other photo.
But it was the look on his own face that slayed him.
Love. Admiration. Lust. Adoration .
All of it wrapped up in one simple, stupid, love-struck smile. He’d never seen himself look at anyone that way before.
You’ll never see it again, either. Not ever. Not with anyone else .
His hands began to shake, and Mac set the photos down. He swallowed hard, at a loss for what to do next. Something else caught his eye on the dresser. He reached out and picked it up.
“The ring,” he said aloud, turning it over in his hand. The diamond sparkled, and the rose gold seemed warm to his touch.
She’d taken it off. He couldn’t blame her. He’d abandoned her, just walked away like a total jackass. In one fell swoop, he’d hit her with the two things she feared most: falling in love, and being abandoned.
Congratulations, asshole .
Mac curled his fingers around the ring, clenching hard enough to feel the stone biting into his palm. He closed his eyes, but all he could see was the look on her face in that photo. The look on his own face. The kind of love that didn’t hit people upside the head every day.
He opened his eyes again and shook his head. There were no guarantees. No certainty he could keep her safe or that he wouldn’t screw up again. No assurance she’d always be safe from danger.
He looked at the photo again, at the look of love on her face. On his.
Maybe there was one guarantee…
He turned and stormed out of the room.