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Lethal Lover
Laura Gordon
Reunited…Dark and dangerous, bounty hunter Reed McKenna bore little resemblance to the man Tess Elliot once loved. Now, stranded on Grand Cayman Island after her cousin's mysterious disappearance, Tess was surrounded by enemies…and Reed appeared to be the only "friend" in sight. Could she trust the very man who had once betrayed her?Reignited…Tess…his Tessa…was even more beautiful than Reed recalled. But as she was drawn deeper into a dangerous underworld–one in which he was very much at home–their tentative trust was put to the ultimate test…and their forgotten love was rekindled with a desperate passion.
Lethal Lover
Laura Gordon
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
With love, to my husband Gordon, for believing in me and my dreams.
Contents
Chapter One (#u5e9fe18c-2099-511a-8290-26ff0fd9be54)
Chapter Two (#u1f53c8ee-aabe-5878-8802-92316d9d2e5b)
Chapter Three (#uf1a0a06b-b6e9-57aa-a0d2-6658a18c513f)
Chapter Four (#u076dc927-5980-5f7a-bdc5-233cdfc66a30)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
“Hey, Mac! It’s me, Charlie. Pick up the phone! Wake up, Mac. All hell’s broke lose out here!”
Reed McKenna swore softly under his breath and reached across the darkness and the pretty blond woman lying next to him to grab the phone.
“I’m here, Charlie,” he said, bracing himself for the news he’d been half expecting and half dreading for the past week, ever since Andy Dianetti turned state’s witness.
“They got him, Mac. Dianetti’s dead.”
Reed shifted the cordless receiver to his other ear as the implications of Charlie’s grim pronouncement washed over him like tainted water. “When did it happen?” The glowing green digits on his clock radio read 3:29.
“About fifteen minutes ago.” The sirens Reed heard wailing in the background were no match for Charlie Franklin’s booming baritone. “The firemen found pieces of the car two blocks away. It isn’t a pretty sight down here, Mac.”
“It never is.” Reed clicked on the reading lamp and fumbled with a pack of gum. He hadn’t had a cigarette in almost three weeks, but his craving for that nicotine rush seemed more intense than ever. His jaws ached from chewing gum and his tongue felt raw from sucking Life Savers. “Anyone else hurt?” he asked.
The blonde stirred beside him, but didn’t open her eyes.
“The officer who was escorting Dianetti is still alive. Poor bastard. They don’t think he’ll make it through the night.” Charlie hesitated before adding, “I just heard they’ve found the kid and will be taking her into custody tonight.”
A feeling of raw discomfort landed in the pit of Reed’s stomach as he stared into the wintry darkness beyond his bedroom window. When he and his companion had come in around midnight it had been snowing; now all he could see when he stared at the glass was his own reflection staring back—dark-haired, dark-eyed, a shadowy silhouette of a man whose heart felt as empty and cold as the night. “And just who was responsible for that brilliant decision?” Reed asked, his tone caustic.
“We have to have the bookkeeper’s testimony, Mac. With Andy Dianetti dead, Morrell will walk out of that courtroom free as air if we don’t bring her in.”
“Then go get her.” Reed’s suggestion was flatly unsympathetic. “Why drag an innocent kid into the middle of it?”
“If it was that easy,” Charlie grumbled, “we wouldn’t be calling you and you know it.”
Reed scooted to a sitting position, leaning his bare back against the brass headboard. “Just why did you call me?” he demanded. “You’ve got your leverage, use it.”
“And take a chance on the media finding out we used the child to blackmail her mother into testifying? That kind of damage would be beyond control. The press would eat us alive!”
Reed could think of worse things. “So what do they want from me? Spell it out, Charlie.” He draped his free arm over the woman sleeping beside him. Her skin felt warm and reassuringly alive beneath his hand.
“They want you to bring her in—quietly. No international incidents. Just one civilian to another. Convince her to cooperate, Mac.”
Reed ran a hand through his hair. “We’ve had this conversation before, remember? You told me your guys had it covered.”
“Yeah, but that was before Dianetti got himself blown to kingdom come. The stakes just got higher.”
“As did my rates.”
While Charlie swore, Reed held the phone a few inches from his ear.
“How much?” Charlie asked finally.
“Twice my regular rate,” Reed replied, completely refocused on the business at hand. “And since I’ll be traveling, my per diem expenses will double, as well.”
“Twice!” Charlie exploded. “Think what the hell you’re doing to me, Mac! You know what kind of hoops I’ll have to jump through to get that kind of money?”
“Like I’ve told you before—”
“I know, I know. It’s not your problem.” Charlie sounded exasperated; his ulcer was probably raging again. Too bad, Reed thought. He had no quarrel with Charlie Franklin. The problem lay with his superiors, those white-collared hypocrites on the Hill who demanded results, but kept their own hands lily-white.
He’d worked for them in the past—on both sides of a badge. And he’d work with them now. With luck, this would be the last time.
“Fifteen thousand up front,” Reed stated plainly. The kind of answers that could cost a man his life didn’t come cheap. “Two hundred thousand on delivery.” It was an outrageous demand, but one he knew they’d meet. They wanted the witness, wanted her badly enough to turn Uncle Sam into a kidnapper.
What he didn’t know was if two hundred thousand would be enough to give him a fresh start away from the rotten business that he’d become so damn good at. He could only hope so.
“You’re crazy, Mac,” Charlie grumbled.
“And you’re desperate,” Reed countered. “Two hundred thousand,” he said again. “Cash on delivery. And I want your leverage turned over to me, as well.”
Charlie gasped. “The kid! You want the kid? You can’t be serious.”
“I’m completely serious.” His sudden and impulsive demand surprised him even more than it had surprised Charlie. It wasn’t often that Reed McKenna acted irrationally, but the passion that had risen up and prompted him to do so now was as strong as any force he’d felt in a long, long time. “You heard me, Charlie.”
“But what the hell for?”
For Sean, his mind whispered. Reed glanced again at the woman beside him to be sure she was sleeping before he said, “Listen, Charlie, Morrell’s bookkeeper has outsmarted your guys for six months, and she’s walked a narrow line for a hell of a lot longer than that. She’s made half a dozen trips out of the country just this year and she’s probably stashed away enough money to support herself into old age. You’ve admitted yourself that if you had enough to indict her, you wouldn’t be calling me. And after what’s happened to Dianetti, I need a bargaining chip every bit as much as you do.”
“But the kid—you’d really use the kid?”
“And just what the hell were you guys planning to do?”
“Well, we...” Charlie sputtered. “That is, they’ve already picked her up for security reasons...to protect her, I guess.”
Reed had heard it before, almost the same words, the night they’d taken Sean away from the old man. He hadn’t known enough to distrust the system back then and it had cost him his brother. But he knew better now. One dead child was enough for any man to carry on his conscience.
“So you’re saying she’s safer where she is than with me?”
“Hell, yes!”
“Can you guarantee that, Charlie?”
The older man’s sigh was weary. “All right, Mac, I admit I don’t know how it will all work out, but I do know these people are set up for kids. They’ve got homes, you know?”
He knew.
“And people, experts who know how to deal with things like this. Come on, Mac. Forget the kid, will ya? She’ll be safe.”
“Tell that to Dianetti, you son of a bitch,” Reed growled, slamming the phone down, half choking on the unexpected surge of anger Charlie’s indifference had provoked.
The phone rang again almost immediately. Reed grabbed it on the second ring, but didn’t bother to say hello.
“It’s gonna take time,” Charlie’s tone seemed resigned. “It’s a lot of money and getting temporary custody of the kid transferred to you won’t be easy.”
Reed wasn’t in the mood for bureaucratic excuses. “One hour,” he said simply.
“One hour!” the older man exploded. “Damn it, man! It would take a presidential order to get things moving that fast.”
“Then I suggest you call him,” Reed replied, reminding himself that time was something he didn’t have to waste.
He’d begun researching the situation a week ago, just in case he was called. Pulling in every marker owed him, he’d been able to learn where the bookkeeper was headed; it was invaluable information that would at least assure him a head start.
But it was a fragile lead at best. With Dianetti out of the picture, Reed knew he’d be only one of many stalking Edward Morrell’s elusive bookkeeper. True, Reed had had an edge in tracking her, a personal connection he hoped to hell Morrell would never discover. Nevertheless, if he’d been able to discover her plans in less than a week, it wouldn’t take the other side much longer.
Even now he felt the clock pushing him. In the last five minutes, getting the bookkeeper’s kid safely out of the country had suddenly become Reed’s top priority. Then he’d worry about finding the bookkeeper, convincing her to come back to the States and keeping her alive to testify.
And as if that wasn’t enough, there in the background was Tess. How did life get so tangled? Thoughts of Tess, of the fire storm into which she was unwittingly walking made his pulse race as if a time bomb were already ticking.
“You have my terms,” he reminded Charlie. “One hour,” he muttered again into the receiver and imagined the sweat beading on the older man’s forehead.
“You’re one cold S.O.B., anybody ever tell you that, Mac?”
Reed allowed himself a grim smile. “Yeah, once or twice.” He stabbed the disconnect button and looked up to see the blonde’s pale blue eyes open and staring up at him. “Time to go home, Cinderella,” he said as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up.
“But—”
“No buts, babe. I have work to do.” He grabbed his jeans and pulled them on, wondering how long it would take him to put together a traveling nursery. The kid. He’d demanded temporary custody of the kid. He almost couldn’t believe it himself.
“Work?” the blonde grumbled as she sat up and reached for her scattered clothes. “What kind of job calls you out in the middle of the night?”
Reed ignored her question; to explain himself to a woman he’d known less than five hours seemed pointless.
After she’d called for a taxi, she sat down on the bed and tugged on her knee-high boots. Reed grabbed his duffel bag out of the closet and proceeded to pack.
“Hey, you’re leaving town, aren’t you?”
“It looks that way.” Funny, Reed thought, she hadn’t seemed the talkative type a few hours ago.
“Will I see you again when you get back? Will you call me?” Her voice was smoky and her breath smelled faintly of the scotch they’d both consumed in ample quantities at the bar where they’d met earlier in the evening.
“Maybe.”
“Well, you’ve got my number. Maybe I’ll see you at Duffy’s again. A bunch of us usually hang out there on Fridays after work.”
Reed merely smiled and nodded as he finished packing. When he reached past her to withdraw the .38 semiautomatic he kept taped behind the headboard, her eyes widened.
She watched as Reed slipped it into an interior pocket of his favorite leather jacket. Newly impressed by the dangerous-looking man before her, she asked, “So tell me, Mac, where are you going in the middle of the night in such a hurry?”
Unbidden, a voice from his past came back to answer. “I’m headed to hell, babe,” he said. “Like my old man always said, ‘straight to hell on a fast train.’”
And if Edward Morrell didn’t get to him first, Reed told himself, Tess Elliot would be only too happy to punch his ticket.
Chapter Two
The waiter who showed Tess and Selena Elliot across the open-air dining room was a tall, handsome young man with a perfect tan and light brown hair naturally streaked by the sun. Taking in his all-American looks, Tess would have thought him more at home in Southern California than Grand Cayman.
But when he spoke, his English was seasoned with that unique, melodic Caribbean accent that Tess found charming, and she realized that he must be a native. His uniform was the loose-fitting, multicolored shirt and white canvas trousers that all the West Palm staff members wore.
