Aces High (16 page)

Katrina stared at him reproachfully, and Skye held one hand over his bound ribs while he laughed at her.

Later in the day Dane told her that he'd expected it. “Once he's conscious,” he told her, “Skye heals fast. And he's too impatient to stay in bed. If he broke every bone in his body and they put him in a cast head to toe, he'd probably wear roller skates to get around.”

Skye, who was sitting on the couch in the den wearing only a pair of sweatpants, grinned at her. Katrina mentally threw up her hands in surrender, but irritably told Dane, “You're a lot of help!”

“Sorry.” He smiled at her. Without his mustache, and dressed in the casual dark clothing Skye usually wore, he was the image of his brother. He had even imperceptibly altered his way of moving, and his normally lazy drawl held the more clipped and rapid cadence of Skye's speech.

Katrina had observed those last traits when she had earlier gone to give Gigi a progress report on Skye. Dane had been there with Hagen, and Katrina had made a plausible excuse to draw her friend out of the office. She couldn't have very well told Gigi about Skye's recovery when Hagen had believed the man to be standing right beside him.

“You'll probably be having other visitors today,” Dane told his brother now, not without a certain enjoyment. “Everybody wants to come and swear at you. I told them you were up to it.”

“Thanks,” Skye said dryly.

Others did come, all of them at some time or other during the day. And if they didn't swear at Skye, they nonetheless made it clear that the next time he was involved in a team effort and decided to play the Lone Ranger, there would be an abundance of people standing in line to express their displeasure.

Meekness was hardly one of Skye's character traits, but by the end of the day he was a bit subdued. Not because of what he'd done, of course, but by the reactions to it. He had never been much of a team player; his professional partnership with Dane stretched back over ten years, but that was far more a blood bond than one of collaboration. He was unaccustomed to people worrying about him, and more than a little surprised by it.

“I hope you aren't going to yell at me,” he told Katrina with some feeling that night.

“They didn't yell.” She was standing by the dresser brushing her hair, and sent him an amused look over her shoulder. “But whether you like it or not, they care about you. All of them. And they were right.”

Skye had spent the day very determinedly gaining strength, and as he watched her now he felt familiar stirrings. He forgot about people yelling at him. “Trina,” he said.

She looked at him again, this time with instant awareness and a certain amount of helplessness. Her knees felt weak all of a sudden, and she was hardly aware of putting the brush down and turning toward the bed. “You need to rest,” she protested.

“I need you,” he said, and the stark truth of that made his voice ragged.

Katrina came to the bed slowly, her heart pounding. She felt hot and weak, and already conscious of the throbbing emptiness only he could fill. Skye threw the covers back as she reached him, then pulled her down on the bed beside him.

She gasped. “Your ribs.”

“To hell with my ribs.” He was unbuttoning her sleep shirt with the fingers of one hand, but it wasn't quick enough for him, and he pulled his left arm from the sling so he could use that hand as well. Katrina moaned a wordless protest, but when she met his eyes and saw the fiery hunger there, she stopped trying to make him remember his injuries. That look told her plainly that he didn't give a damn whether he hurt himself, because he wanted her right that minute and he wasn't going to wait. She had seen enough of his relentless will by now to know when to stop fighting it.

She helped him get rid of the sleep shirt, and when his hot, hard hands surrounded her breasts she almost cried out with pleasure. Her body was so attuned to him, so responsive to his urgency, she was instantly out of control. But some final shred of reason made her try to keep him from moving any more than necessary. And it was a new pleasure to love him as he had so often loved her, to touch and kiss his powerful body with a hunger of her own until he groaned and shuddered.

Skye endured the sweet torment of her touch for as long as he could, but his control quickly shattered, and he lifted her bodily above him, a half-wild cry tearing from his throat. She settled over him with a lithe grace, her cat's eyes gleaming down at him, and when her tight heat surrounded him, he thought he'd go out of his mind with the searing pleasure of it.

“Tell me,” he ordered in a voice that was almost gone, his hard hands on her hips guiding her slow movements.

“I love you,” she said huskily, staring into his narrowed, fiercely intent eyes. The tension coiling inside her was an agony of suspension, and she almost moaned out the words again and again, whimpering when he quickened the pace and surged beneath her with no awareness of his injuries or any consciousness of pain except the pain of hot desire.

And, as always, there was no slow ascent for either of them, but rather a swift, relentless, shattering climb that hurled them wildly over the brink. She collapsed on his chest with a wordless cry, feeling him shudder and hold her hard as a guttural groan was wrenched from him.

Katrina couldn't move for a long time; even the awareness of his bandages beneath her cheek and a niggling worry about his injuries lacked the power to make her move.

“I love you, Trina,” he said.

She lifted her head and looked at him, and the love glowing in his eyes nearly stopped her heart. “I love you too,” she whispered, shifting just far enough so she could kiss him. Then, worried, she said, “Your ribs—”

Arms tightening around her, Skye said, “To hell with my ribs.”

Raven opened the door to let Dane into the suite, then led the way into the sitting room where Josh was just hanging up the phone. Looking at their visitor, Josh said, “Everything set for tomorrow morning?”

Dane nodded and sat down in a chair while Raven joined her husband on the couch. “No problems, far as I can see. The governor's due to arrive just after the park opens, so the crowd won't be too large. Since all of you
and
the other people you've planted around the park will be near the Ferris wheel, we shouldn't attract much more than mild interest.”

Josh nodded slightly. “Everyone's been briefed. They'll have a cover story if any visitors have questions.”

Lifting one eyebrow, Dane said, “A cover story?”

“We're making a movie,” Raven interjected. She nodded toward a video camera lying nearby on a table. “Just some preliminary shots, you understand.”

Dane grinned. “Neat.”

She smiled in return, then said, “How's Skye? I dropped by Katrina's suite a couple of days ago but didn't stay long. I got the feeling they wanted to be alone.”

Chuckling, Dane said, “Skye's fine. He could have gone back to being himself three days ago, but when I told him to stay put, he didn't argue. Gigi says she'll have to find another manager for her hotel.”

“Speaking of Gigi,” Raven said, “how's she doing?”

Dane eyed her. “Don't you mean how's your
other
little plot progressing?” he asked gently.

Josh smiled, but Raven looked innocent. “Plot? Why, I don't know what you mean.”

Dane made a rude sound.

Raven didn't lose her innocent expression, but her eyes gleamed merrily. Blandly she said, “Can I help it if Gigi's a very attractive woman? And if Daniel Stuart's a very handsome man?”

Dane had to laugh. “No, and don't try to tell me that both of them aren't in on it. Daniel's just having too much fun, and Gigi's almost purring.”

“What about Hagen?” Josh asked, grinning.

“Steamed,” Dane answered. “First Daniel got the directorship Hagen had earmarked for himself, and now he's after Gigi. She's playing it perfectly, a lot of dignity but definite interest, and Daniel's showing all the signs of losing his heart. Hagen can hardly stand to be in the same room with Daniel, and he's started watching over Gigi like a hawk.”

Raven pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Is the maestro just mad, or is he worried?”

Dane looked thoughtful, his eyes abstracted as he watched Josh light a cigarette. Slowly he answered, “I'd say that at first it was sheer rage. But when Gigi started to—uh—encourage Daniel, it shook Hagen up. He hasn't had his mind on business the last couple of days.” Clearing his throat, Dane added, “I happened to remark to him this morning that catching an assassin would certainly make Daniel mad, since he's been after Adrian as long as Hagen has. He perked right up.”

Raven giggled. “And you say
I'm
devious.”

“Well, I thought it'd be a shame if the final act of this little caper fell apart because Hagen had lost interest.”

“Nice going,” Josh told him.

“Thank you.” Dane was polite.

“I wonder if he needs another push,” Raven said thoughtfully.

Dane gazed at her for a moment, then said, “You're ruthless.”

She widened her eyes at him. “Why? As Serena told me, you just arrange the circumstances to achieve a desired effect and point your players in the right direction. What happens is purely a matter of free will.”

Josh chuckled as Dane gave him a faintly horrified look. “I know, it sounds scary as hell. But since I grew up with Serena, it doesn't shake me up anymore. I didn't know Raven had the talent when I married her, but I must admit she keeps me on my toes.”

Raven looked at each of the men with pitying eyes. “I just decided that Hagen had been taking Gigi for granted, and she agreed with me. That's a very stupid thing to do, taking a woman for granted, even after twenty years.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Josh murmured.

“So will I,” Dane echoed, thinking of his Jenny, she of the Italian heritage and fiery temper.

Raven grinned at them. It was good to remind a man of these things, she reflected.

Hagen had had enough. His temper was uncertain at the best of times, though generally wielded with fine dramatic timing, and it was never more likely to explode than when his inner vision of himself as omniscient was challenged. He hated surprises when they were directed
at
him rather than orchestrated
by
him, and Gigi had surprised him.

He had never been quite certain of her—something he had admitted to himself only recently—but he had never expected her to look at another man with a purely personal interest in her fine eyes. And that it had to be Daniel.
Daniel!

So when Hagen stormed into Gigi's suite without knocking late Friday afternoon, he was in the mood to pick a quarrel with an angel.

Nobody had ever accused Gigi of being an angel.

A book in hand, she had been relaxing in a corner of the long couch, but rose instantly to her feet, glaring at him. “How dare you!”

Hagen cast one thunderous look around the suite, and though he was relieved not to find Daniel there, it didn't show on his face. “I won't have it, Gigi!” he roared.

Gigi was a little woman, but there was nothing small about her temper. Drawing herself up to her full diminutive height, her eyes snapping, she said, “I have already told you, Hagen,
you do not command me.
My life is my own, and you have no right to interfere in it.”

To his own astonishment, Hagen felt his towering rage descend with a lurch into shaken uncertainty. “But what are you doing?” he very nearly moaned. “And with
Daniel.
You've stabbed me in the back, and after all these years!”

She stared at him, unrelenting.

Hagen heard words tumbling out, and couldn't believe they were coming from him. “You'd hate Washington, you know you would! And there's the park—your operation here—”

“I'm going to retire,” she said calmly. “I have begun shutting down the operation already. I shall move into the country and raise racehorses.”

He blinked. “What?”

Gigi kept her face straight with an effort. “Certainly. It will be amusing. And since I do not wish to live alone, I think I shall marry.”

He blanched. “Not Daniel!”

“And why not? He is a handsome, distinguished man, and a complete gentleman.
He
would never take a woman for granted.”

“Gigi—”

Inexorably she continued, “He is not arrogant, or manipulative, or egotistic, or deceitful. He respects my will, and would never try to make decisions for me. He would never rant and rave at me. He would not deviously try to arrange my life the moment my back is turned.”

Hagen stared at her for a moment, and then his cupid's mouth curved suddenly in an unexpectedly humorous smile. “He'd bore you silly, my dear.”

Her lips twitched responsively before she could stop them. Recovering, she snapped, “And he loves me!”

“But you love me,” Hagen said.

With perfect calm she replied, “After twenty years I find that to love is not enough. I wish to
be
loved.”

Hagen crossed the space between them with startling grace and speed for a man of his bulk, and there was a surprising strength in the arms that closed about her. “Dammit, you know I love you,” he said almost irritably.

Gigi's slim form adapted itself easily to his girth, but her lovely face remained unmoved. “I do not know that at all,” she told him.

He glared at her. “I'm telling you. I love you. I've loved you for twenty years. Why would I keep coming around and dodging that damned sharp tongue of yours if I didn't love you?”

“Because nobody else stands up to you!” she retorted with spirit.

He chuckled suddenly. “True. You're a difficult woman, my dear, and in twenty years you've never bored me.” He sighed, then said reflectively, “I suppose raising racehorses wouldn't be so bad. There's a certain challenge in that.”

“I don't recall inviting you,” she said sweetly.

Back on balance again, Hagen gave her an indulgent look. “Of course you did, Gigi. This little game you've been playing with Daniel was the invitation.”

She eyed him ruefully. “Damn you.”

He laughed again, but with rare grace admitted, “Well, it worked. Scared the hell out of me when I thought I was losing you. We'll get married as soon as possible.”

As if addressing some third party, Gigi said, “I should have known he would tell rather than ask.”

Hagen opened his eyes wide. “If you didn't mean to marry me, my dear, I'd like to know what kind of game you've been playing with me for twenty years.”

Gigi might have sputtered at this unfair statement, but he didn't give her the chance. Not that she minded.

Katrina had been a little worried that Skye might not trust in her love this time, but as the days passed it became obvious that whatever he had needed to make him certain he had found. The hard, searching look vanished from his eyes, and though he would never be a tranquil man, he was clearly less restless and far more at peace with himself.

Having once gained his feet, he healed with astonishing speed, and by the third day, Wednesday, had abandoned the elastic bandage over his ribs; he had also talked the doctor into reducing his other bandages, saying that his wounds would heal far more quickly if they weren't smothered by gauze.

Katrina, with glorious memories of his lovemaking in her mind, couldn't find the will to protest. Except for that first night, he hadn't made a single concession to his injuries. And since the admission of love between them had intensified an already overpowering desire, Katrina was all too aware that Skye's strength had returned full force.

Still, as she watched him shrugging easily into his shoulder harness early Saturday morning, she felt a pang of worry. It wasn't supposed to be dangerous, of course, but then, Adrian shouldn't have escaped either.

“Skye, I want to be there.”

After pulling on a light Windbreaker, he came to her and pulled her into his arms, smiling down at her. “The gun's just for show,” he reminded her. “Hagen would think I was crazy if I wasn't armed.”

“I know that.”

His smile widened. “I love you too.”

Katrina sighed a little. “You're just so reckless. Can I help it if I worry about you?”

“Mmmm. Maybe we'd better talk about that. I don't exactly have a risk-free job, sweetheart.”

She forced her voice to remain steady. “I know.”

He waited, gravely watching her.

A little fiercely she said, “I don't have any right to ask you.”

Skye's eyes narrowed. “Then I'll ask you. I don't mind my wife being a hotel manager, but I sure as hell don't want her to be an agent.”

“I'm not your wife,” she said in a small voice.

“Oh, but you are, sweetheart.”

Katrina stared at him. “You divorced me.”

He looked a bit sheepish, but his eyes were alight. “Well, no. I set the legal wheels in motion, but I never went through with it. We're still married.”

She tried to push him away. “And you never
told
me all this time?”

He kissed her until she didn't have the breath to rail at him, then said, “I love you. I loved you too much then to cut the last tie between us. And I want to marry you again, Trina.” His face softened. “Will you marry me, sweetheart?”

“Yes.” A few moments later she added uncertainly, “You should have told me, though. I wasn't sure if you wanted a future with me.”

“I want a long and settled future with you,” he told her in a definite voice. “So I'll retire as an agent if you will.”

Katrina searched his eyes. “Are you sure, Skye? If you gave up something you loved because of me—”

He shook his head, smiling. “Ten years is a long time, and I'm tired of the dark. Dane and I are both ready to quit, I think.”

She swallowed hard. “What would you do?”

“There's a ranch in Montana I've had my eye on. It's a wild place; it'll need a lot of work.” Skye was watching her intently.

Katrina pulled his head down so she could kiss him. “It sounds wonderful. I love you….”

His arm tightened around her, and his eyes were luminous. A bit roughly he said, “I'll probably be a hell of a husband, sweetheart, but they'll put me in the ground before I stop loving you. Don't ever forget that.”

Chuckling, she said, “If I've learned anything, it's that I should always wait a few hours after you've said something in a temper, and then ask you if you meant it.”

He had to laugh. “Well, I'm glad you've learned that.”

The sudden peal of the telephone made Katrina say, “Hagen, wondering where you are.”

“Yes.” Skye released her reluctantly. “It's time to bring down the curtain.”

Hagen was feeling marvelously pleased with himself. He hadn't been able to resist preening a bit when he told Daniel that Gigi was going to marry him, and that rival's crestfallen expression had been an ample reward. It never occurred to him, of course, that Daniel had been playing the same game that Gigi had. He invited Daniel to observe the capture of Adrian, and was even more pleased when Gigi decided to watch as well.

He enjoyed an admiring audience when he was being particularly great.

And the operation went off just as he'd planned. Really, he thought, Skye Prescott was a total professional; though his Katrina had accompanied him to the park, she waited with Gigi, and Prescott was calm and cool. He had listened to Hagen's instructions gravely, and had accepted them with respect.