Deceptions (13 page)

His arousal pushed against her. He'd opened his jeans, and that heavy length met her bare flesh.

“I'm protected,” Elizabeth whispered. That part of her that never took chances—that side had made sure that her birth control was covered.

“I'm clean.” His words were a rough rasp. “You don't have to worry.”

She kissed him. Elizabeth let her tongue slide just inside his mouth in a sensual temptation. Part of her knew she should pull back. That she was opening a dangerous door inside herself that she wouldn't be able to close again.

But a bigger part of her didn't care.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Elizabeth whispered.

He lifted her up higher, positioned his body and surged into her.

Mac kissed her, hard and deep, so there was no sound for her to make. She was too far gone to do anything but hold on tight and ride out that wave of pleasure. Not easy. Not light. Shattering. Every thrust and glide of his body sent desire pulsing hotter and harder inside her. She was nearly clawing at his shoulders as Elizabeth fought to get closer to him. He controlled their movements perfectly, sliding her down so that each glide of his body worked over her sensitive core.

The climax was close, building at breakneck speed. Her breath was heaving out, and the pleasure was going to hit. Elizabeth knew it—

Her breath choked out when the release hit her. It was so strong that her whole body seemed to spasm. And Mac was right there with her. She could feel him, inside and out, and her hold tightened on him.

The pleasure bound them, not just the flesh, but cutting far deeper.

Her breath was still coming in pants as she stared up at him. No one had ever made her feel the way he did.

His hands were still around her waist, and his eyes were locked on hers. What did he see in her gaze? Pleasure? Need?

Hope?

Her legs were clamped around his hips. She should move them. She should probably try to get some of her careful control back in place but...

She kissed his neck. “I don't have to hide with you, do I?”

His hand slid up her back. “No.”

Elizabeth realized that Mac saw her for exactly who she was—controlled and wild. He wanted her, all of her.

“Do you do this a lot?” Elizabeth wondered, hating the question and the sudden jealousy that rose within her. “Have sex with women in—”

“No.” A flat, hard denial.

Her lips curved, and her legs finally slid down. He lowered her gently to the floor. Mac adjusted his clothes, and she tried to hurriedly make sure she was somewhat back to normal.

Will the others know? Do I even care?

Right then, no, she didn't. When you were living in the moment, you didn't get to worry so much about what others would think.

“Something you should understand...” Mac said, and his fingers caught hers. “I meant what I told you before. I don't want to let you go.”

A shiver slid over her. She wished that she could see into his mind—his heart.

“What would it take,” he continued, “to get you to stay with me?”

In that instant, Elizabeth decided that there would be no more lies or secrets. She wouldn't be afraid, not any longer. “You'd have to love me,” Elizabeth told him simply. She watched his pupils flare. “More than anything else.” Because she wasn't going to accept anything less.

No more fear. Happiness—life. Hope. The girl she'd been and the woman she'd become were tangled together now, and neither was going to hold back.

“How do you know,” Mac asked, tilting his head to the side, “that I don't already?”

She nearly choked. “You—”

“Mac!” It was Sullivan's voice, sounding a bit too close. “We're going to be landing soon. You and Elizabeth need to buckle up again.”

Landing? They were already there?

“Mac!”

Buckle up, right. That was what they were supposed to do and
not
have hot, passionate sex at thirty thousand feet.

Mac brought her hand to his lips. “Think about it,” he told her. Then he pushed back the curtain.

She caught a glimpse of Sullivan's back. He was heading toward the cockpit once more. Had the guy realized what they'd been doing?

Hurrying now, she sat in her seat and reached for the seat belt. As it clicked into place, Elizabeth wondered just what it would be like if Mac loved her.

* * *

“W
HAT
THE
HELL
is going on with you?” Sullivan caught Mac's arm before he could leave the plane.

Mac didn't look at his brother. Instead, he kept his gaze on Elizabeth. She'd already disembarked, and the wind had caught her hair, tossing it around her face.

“This isn't you.” Sullivan's grip hardened. “Since when do you get so caught up in a woman that you decide to scr—”

“Stop.” Low. Lethal. “Be very, very careful when you talk about Elizabeth.”

Sullivan's hand fell away. “You're in too deep with her. You have to watch your back. You can't trust—”

He finally looked at his brother. “She isn't Celia.”

Sullivan actually flinched. “You know I don't talk about her.”

“Maybe you should.” He'd kept quiet for too long. “You know she helped save your ass back then. You were always so sure she'd betrayed you—
why?
”

Sullivan shouldered past him and exited the plane.

But Mac wasn't done. He followed his brother and grabbed his shoulder, swinging him back around. “I contacted her before we left,” he said flatly.

Sullivan stared at him in shock.

“You need to deal with it,” Mac said. He hadn't warned his brother because he'd known just how Sullivan would react. Too bad. They needed Celia on this one. “She should be in the airport, waiting for us. She was already in the area, working another case, so she was able to make the rendezvous I proposed.”

His brother paled. “You had no right—”

“Celia is
my
connection, too. She's the one who set up the meeting with the governor. She was the only agent in the field who could do it for me. He doesn't know about Elizabeth or who I am. Celia pulled strings, and the guy just thinks he's meeting a few constituents after some fund-raiser. You know she has ties that will—”

“Don't.”

He'd never heard that level of fury in Sullivan's voice.

“Mac?” Elizabeth called. “Is everything all right?” She began to walk toward them.

Mac stepped closer to his brother. “I understand now,” he told him softly. “I didn't before. I didn't get why you changed so completely. Why you seemed so hard and brittle. I thought it was because the mission had gone bad.”

Sullivan's eyes burned with his rage.

“But it was because you knew you'd lost her, wasn't it? You thought—”

“There are some things you can't undo,” Sullivan gritted.

“And there are some things that you can.” He didn't want Sullivan to keep being a shell of the man he'd been before. So bitter and angry. “I am getting in too deep with Elizabeth, just the way you did with Celia, right? But I'm not going to make the same mistakes you did. I'm going to trust
her
, the same way you should have trusted Celia when all the chips were down.”

“You don't know anything about me and Celia. You don't—”

Elizabeth put her hands between them. “Are you two all right?”

Mac forced a smile for her. “Just trying to make my brother here see reason, before it's too late.”

Sullivan retreated a step. “It's already too late. You can't change the past, no matter what you do.” He whirled away from them and headed for the small airport.

“No.” Elizabeth's voice was strong. “You can't. But that doesn't mean you have to remain stuck in the past or that you have to make the same mistakes.”

Sullivan hesitated.

“We can all change,” Elizabeth said. “It's not too late for any of us.”

Sullivan glanced toward the airport, and the longing on his face was almost painful to see. Mac understood so much more about his brother now.

Sullivan had loved Celia, but he'd turned his back on her. He'd lost the one woman who truly made him happy.

Mac's gaze slid to Elizabeth.
What would I do if I lost her?
He'd been dead serious with her before. He knew exactly how he felt. He loved Elizabeth, and he'd prove that to her. When this mess was over, they'd start fresh. He'd take her out for drinks. He'd wine her, he'd dine her and he'd show her just what they could have together.

And if he was a particularly lucky SOB, she might just start to love him back.

“Why does he look as if he's heading toward a firing squad?” Elizabeth asked softly as her shoulder brushed against his. She tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Because he is,” Mac said, and he caught her fingers in his. “So let's go give the poor guy some backup.” It wasn't going to be easy for Sullivan to see Celia, for him to work with her again, but there was no choice.

Celia James had more ties to Uncle Sam than anyone else that Mac knew. She'd been able to arrange this little meeting in mere minutes. They needed her.

Too bad for them all... Sullivan had never admitted that he loved her.

Chapter Eleven

A woman with short red hair waited just inside the airport terminal. Her skin was a warm gold, and her eyes were a bright blue.

Her eyes were also currently locked on Sullivan.

Elizabeth slipped inside the airport with Mac, and she realized that Sullivan had come to a dead stop just a few feet away from the redhead. The tension between the two was so thick and hot that Elizabeth figured the temperature in the whole building must be rising.

“Hello, Sullivan,” the woman said quietly, her voice calm. “You're looking well.”

He opened his mouth to reply and then just stopped.

The redhead's brows rose. “Sullivan?”

He still wasn't speaking.

The woman straightened her shoulders and strode toward Elizabeth. She offered her hand. “I'm Celia James.”

“No,” Sullivan finally muttered. “You're not.”

Celia glanced over at him, frowned, then focused on Elizabeth once more. “Sullivan is as charming as ever, I see.” Her smile held the faintest edge of sadness. “I'm here to help.”

Sullivan crept closer to her, but Celia didn't glance his way. “I have a vehicle waiting outside for us. The governor should be wrapping up his fund-raiser in—” she glanced down at her watch “—the next forty-five minutes. When he gets to his house, he's expecting to find private donors waiting to meet him. You will be those donors.”

Elizabeth's heart raced in her chest. “How did you make these arrangements?”

“His campaign manager owed me.” Her smile turned cold. “But when Martin Pace finds out I'm actually here as part of a takedown on his boss, I don't think he's going to be thrilled that he repaid the debt.”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said.

Celia's face softened. “Mac briefed me on your case. I'm sorry you had to face this mess alone all those years ago. I know what it's like when no one has your back.”

Sullivan swore. “Celia...”

“But you can count on Mac now,” Celia added as she cut her gaze toward him. “He never let me down.”

“I'm
in
the damn room,” Sullivan growled. “You could always just try stabbing me with that knife you like to keep strapped to your ankle. It would be a lot faster.”

But it seemed that Celia didn't have anything to say to him now. “The car is waiting,” she said again. “Ready?”

Elizabeth straightened her shoulders. “Past ready.” It was time to face the monster. Time to get justice for Nate.

* * *

A
LL
TOO
SOON
, Celia was braking the SUV in front of a large estate home. Elizabeth had remained tense during the drive, because they'd gone straight through Gibson, her old town, and headed out to the country to find the governor's home.

Time had changed the little town of Gibson, and for the better. The old buildings were gone. New businesses had sprung up in their place. The whole area looked different, brighter.

Or maybe it had just been darker in her memory.

“Sutherfield keeps his estate home here,” Celia said as she turned off the engine. “But he spends most of his time at the governor's mansion. We got lucky that he was out here for that fund-raising visit...we were able to cut through a lot of red tape.”

She hurried out of the car. Elizabeth and the men followed her.

They'd had to pass through a large metal gate in order to get access to the mansion. But the guards at the gate hadn't hesitated when Celia had given them her ID. Apparently, the governor's campaign manager had told the guards that Celia and her guests were to be ushered right through security.

Just as they reached the front door, a tall, brown-haired man appeared. He stood on the threshold and looked somewhat nervously at Celia.

“Martin!” She gave him a hug. “Thanks for setting this up.”

He cast a nervous glance at their little group. “They want to donate to the governor's vice-presidential run?” He appeared highly doubtful. Probably because they were all wearing jeans, and both Mac and Sullivan looked seriously dangerous as they glared at the guy. “Celia, what's—”

She pulled away from him. “Do you trust me?”

From the corner of her eye, Elizabeth noticed that Sullivan's hands fisted.

Martin nodded, a bit cautiously.

“Good, then believe me when I say that you don't want to be here tonight. You want to start distancing yourself from the governor.”

He backed up a step. “What has he done?”

Since this guy was the campaign manager, then maybe he knew about the governor's dirty little secrets. Elizabeth stepped forward. “Does the name Nate Daniels mean anything to you?”

“No.” Martin shook his head. “Should it?” He yanked a hand through his hair. “As soon as you called me, Celia, I got this knot in my gut... I knew this was going to be trouble...”

“I don't cause trouble,” Celia said smoothly. “I eliminate it. You know that.”

His hand dropped to his side. “I don't know Nate Daniels.”

Celia seemed to consider that. “We think the governor knows him.”

Martin turned and strode into the house. They followed him in, and Elizabeth's shoes squeaked against the marble floor. The place was immaculate inside—it even smelled expensive. She thought about Nate, about how he'd just had that old car and his beat-up jacket. How he'd smiled and said they'd start fresh.

All while his father sat in his mansion.
Life wasn't fair. Not even close.

“He's making a bid for the White House,” Martin said as he began to pace. “You know his name has been tossed around as a potential vice-presidential candidate. All of the plans are in motion. He and his wife, Evelyn, have been working toward this goal for years. Do you have any idea,
any
, how much they've sacrificed for this?”

She remembered Nate's grave. All of the blood in that cabin. “I have an idea,” Elizabeth said, her voice heating with the fury that burned in her.

Martin stopped pacing.

“This is your chance to leave,” Celia said again. “You really want to take it. You don't want to go down with a sinking ship.”

He blanched. “That bad?”

It was Mac who stepped forward. “We believe the governor has ties to a hit man who was recently arrested in Austin, Texas.”

“
That
bad.” Martin was sweating. His widening eyes locked on Mac. “Are you a cop?”

“PI,” Mac said.

“We both are,” Sullivan added darkly.

A furrow appeared between Martin's brows. “But...but if the governor did something wrong, shouldn't the cops be here?”

“The confession will come first,” Celia said. She looked and sounded confident. Totally in control. “Then the cops. I'm all the authority that's needed right now.”

“You're CIA...or is it FBI?” Martin appeared pained. “How the hell do I keep track of all the things you do these days?
A hit man!
How could he be so dumb? I mean, yeah, the guy might not be the most ethically sound fellow out there. He likes the ladies, and he's strayed a few times over the years, but it was nothing serious. Nothing
criminal.
He never even thought of leaving his wife. Well, except with that one girl...” His voice trailed away. “But that was long before my time with the governor. I just—I found a picture of them once. Evelyn saw it and told me that he'd nearly made a fatal mistake. But that the governor had come to his senses in time.”

Had he? Or had he just
fixed
his mistake?

“You don't have much time,” Celia told him. “I've called others in...”

“Press?” Martin demanded. “Or police?”

“Does it matter?”

He strode for the door. “Just let me know when it's all over...” And he didn't look back. Martin slammed the door behind him as he hurried out.

“He's going to warn his boss,” Sullivan snapped. “That's obvious. He's going to tell the governor that we're here, and the guy is just going to stonewall us.”

Celia glanced over at him. “Have a little faith...”

His eyelids flickered.

“Martin might work for the governor, but the guy doesn't own his soul. He won't talk.”

“You're so sure of him.” Sullivan stalked toward her. “Why? Are you involved with the guy?” His left hand carried a small black briefcase, but his right lifted, as if he'd touch Celia.

Elizabeth rubbed her forehead. “Look, whatever is going on with you two...” And plenty obviously was. “Just stop it, okay? The governor will be here soon and we need to be ready.”

Celia nodded. “Right. Come this way.” She motioned to the right. “His study is in here. The governor knows me, so I'll greet him at the door. I'll also make sure that no one interrupts us once we get started.”

Celia was certainly an interesting woman.

Mac followed Elizabeth into the study. Sullivan was right on their heels.

“We need the guy to slip up,” Sullivan said as he took up a post near the window. “When he makes a mistake, that's when we have him.” He still had the briefcase in his hands.

“And by coming here, by catching him off guard, we immediately put the guy at a disadvantage,” Mac added.

Elizabeth studied him for a moment. “Why do I get the feeling you've done your share of interrogations?”

“Because Uncle Sam trained me well.” His stare was solemn. “I know how to spot lies. I know how to see the truth. The interrogations I did were in some hellholes, places I wish I could forget, but I learned valuable lessons there.” He peered over at Sullivan. “We both did.”

Sullivan's shoulders stiffened. “I wish I could forget some of those places, too.”

“And some of the people?” Celia asked softly as she headed for the door.

“Not—” Sullivan began.

But Celia had left the room.

“Not you,” he finished. “Not you, C.”

Mac crossed to Elizabeth's side. “Are you ready for this?”

“Yes.” Ready for it to be over. “If he's the one who sent that hit man after me...if he's done
all
of this—” her shoulders straightened “—then I'm ready to nail him to the wall.”

“Bloodthirsty, isn't she?” Sullivan muttered.

Her angry stare flew toward him. “He's destroyed my life. He took away the man I loved.”

Mac stiffened.

“Then he came after me again,” Elizabeth's words tumbled out. “Just when I was safe. Just when I felt like I might have found a place to stay, he started hunting me. He put Grant in danger. He put Mac in danger.” Her chin jerked up. “That's not going to happen again. He has to pay for his crimes. We have to stop him before anyone else is hurt.”

She heard voices out in the foyer. Celia. A man. A woman. Had the governor arrived?

“Showtime,” Mac murmured.

Yes, it was.

Elizabeth braced herself. Mac was at her side, standing close. Sullivan kept his position near the window. The voices drew closer. A woman was laughing, a light, tinkling sound that grated on Elizabeth's nerves.

Then Celia was in the doorway. “Your guests are just in here, Governor,” she murmured. “I hope you don't mind that I brought them inside.”

The governor strode in behind her. He was tall, with broad shoulders. He was still wearing a tux, and in her jeans, Elizabeth suddenly felt terribly out of place.

Get a grip. He's a killer.

The governor glanced at her and smiled.

For a moment the world slowed down. The governor had one dimple in his left cheek. A dimple that flashed when he smiled. And his eyes were a deep gold. Very distinct.

“Hello, ma'am, gentlemen.” The governor nodded to them all as his wife followed him into the room. She was dressed in a form-fitting blue gown, one that had a long slit that showcased her well-toned legs. Her hands were covered in white gloves that ended just below her elbows. The governor's wife was an attractive woman, perfectly styled, and she was giving their little group a practiced, polite smile.

“I'm so glad you wish to support my campaign,” he began.

“You have his smile,” Elizabeth blurted. She rubbed her suddenly pounding temples. “Or he had yours, I guess.” Her head tilted to the side as she studied him. “The eyes are the same, too. I thought only Nate had eyes like that.”

The governor paled. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Yes,” Mac said, taking an aggressive step forward. “You do, Governor. You know exactly what—or who—she's talking about.” He glanced toward Sullivan.

Sullivan strode forward and placed his briefcase on the governor's desk.

“Wesley?” The governor's wife wrapped her fingers around his arm. “What's going on? Are these people here to support you?”

“No, Evelyn.” His voice had thickened, and his shoulders had slumped a bit. “I don't think they are.”

Evelyn's eyes turned cold and angry in a flash. “Then what's going on? Who are all of you?” She glanced over her shoulder. “Where's Martin? Didn't he set this up? Where's—”

“Is that you in the picture, Governor?” Sullivan asked.

He'd taken some photos out of the briefcase. He put one photo on the desk—it was the photo that Elizabeth and Mac had retrieved from Yeldon's place. The photo of a lone man at Nate's grave.

A man who looked a whole lot like the governor.

Wesley's fingers shook as he reached out to touch that photo.

“I think that is you,” Mac said. He nodded to Sullivan, and another photo was placed on the desk. “And I think you know exactly who Nate Daniels is.”

Elizabeth pressed her lips together. The photo Sullivan had just put on that desk showed Nate at the crime scene. It showed all the blood. It showed his body, exactly where it had fallen after his attack.