Deceptions (8 page)

She stepped over the broken plate and peered at his creations. Actually, the food looked really good. And her grumbling stomach reminded her that she couldn't even remember her last meal. “You're not going to hear me complain,” she said, then she reached out and sampled their “dinner.”

“Bread and soup isn't exactly a four-course meal,” he muttered. “We can go up to the main house and there will be plenty—”

The bread was melting in her mouth. “Heaven.” Amazing. Perfectly moist and sweet, and there was a whole plate of intricate twists that he'd made.

Color her impressed.

He moved their soup over to the table. She kept a hand on the bread. And so yes, she did eat like a desperate woman, but that wasn't something she was going to worry about at that moment. She was just going to eat and thoroughly enjoy herself. When the soup was gone and she'd devoured the last bite of bread, Elizabeth told him, “You are a man with secret skills.”

He'd grabbed some wine for them and poured them each a glass. At her words, his gaze seemed to become shuttered, and he took a long gulp of the wine. “Most of my skills...you don't want to hear about.”

“Actually, I do.” He sat on the other side of the table from her. She had no idea what time it was, and Elizabeth didn't care. What mattered to her right then—Mac. Talking to him. Learning as much about him as she could.

The real world would intrude on them soon enough. The danger and the drama would come calling. For that moment she just wanted to be with him.

“I want to know everything about you,” she told him. “Every secret.”

He saluted her with his wineglass. “Does that mean I get to learn your secrets, too?”

Elizabeth tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I'll answer any question you ask.” It seemed like the only fair exchange. She hadn't been close to anyone—not really—for years. In some ways the idea of sharing her secrets was almost a relief.

She'd already pulled Mac into danger. Didn't he deserve to know all about her past?

And she...wanted him to know. It seemed important for him to know all about her life. She was so curious about him. They'd reached some kind of turning point; Elizabeth could feel it. There was no going back for either of them.

“You were Delta Force,” she said.

His gaze was shadowed. “First Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta, yeah, that was me.” He poured a little more wine. “I joined the army young, and I always knew I wanted to be Delta.”

Since meeting him, she'd read more about Delta Force and all of the dangerous work that group did. “You worked counterterrorism?”

“Some days. We also engaged in hostage rescue and a lot of direct action assaults.” His fingers slid along the stem of the wineglass. “What is it that you want to know, Elizabeth? If I've killed? I have. Did I like it? No, I killed only when there was no choice. When I was fighting to survive or to protect my teammates.”

“I already knew that would be your reason.”

His eyelids flickered.

“I want to know, why did you become Delta?”

“Because I wanted to make a difference.”

That seemed like him. “A true-blue hero.”

“Hardly.” He drained the wine. “Maybe I'm just an adrenaline junkie. Plenty of folks think so. They say I'm the dangerous one. Of all the McGuires, they think I'm the one you should avoid when the sun goes down and the shadows slip out.”

She took another sip of her wine. “Actually, they say that about all of your brothers.”

His lips twitched a bit. She liked it when he smiled.

“But you are mentioned as being a bit more...intense,” Elizabeth allowed.

His faint smile faded away. “Is that why I scare you? Because I'm intense?”

She needed more wine. “I don't remember saying that you scared me.” Quite the opposite. He excited her. He made her want things—so many temptations that she'd tried to resist.

“You know I want you.” His voice was a low rumble that rolled over her.

“Yes.” And if they were being honest...
say it.
“And you know I want you.”

His face hardened. A muscle jerked along his jaw. “You're the one who put the brakes on things before.”

Yes, she had been. “I'm not stopping anything now.”

Very carefully, he put down his wine. “You should know, my control isn't at its best now. I thought I was going to find you dead. I was desperate to get to you—I was pushed too far.”

“So was I.” While his voice had roughened, hers had gone soft. “Pushed over the edge because I realized I wasn't really living. I've tried to play it safe. I've tried to do everything right.” Tried to be so perfect, all the time. Elizabeth shook her head. “And I could have died. Do you know what I thought about right then? When the lights went out and I heard that guy calling my name?”

His gaze burned as it held hers.

“I thought about you, and I wished—I wished so much that I hadn't stopped you. Hadn't stopped
us.
Because you're what I want. You're—”

He was on his feet. He shot around the table and pulled her into his arms. His mouth crashed down on hers, and they both ignited. No other word for it. The passion burned hot and bright, and she kissed him feverishly. She didn't want any control.

No control. No fear. No worries about the past or the future.

Only that moment mattered. Being with Mac mattered. Holding him tight.

Going over the edge—with him.

She'd thought they'd go to the bedroom.

Instead, he stripped her right there. His hands caught the edge of her jogging pants, and Mac pushed them down. The pants pooled at her feet even as he kept kissing her. Then his hands were on her waist, sliding over the curves of her hips, and his callused fingertips slid under the edge of her cotton panties.

She could feel the bulge of his arousal pressing against her. He wore only a pair of low-slung jeans, and there was no way she could miss his need.

Her hands slid over his back. She wanted to touch all of him and—

He lifted her up and put her on the edge of the table. Her legs were splayed, and Mac stepped between them. He kissed a scorching path down her neck. Her head tipped back as she moaned. He was licking her and lightly using the edge of his teeth, sending tremors of sensation shooting through her. The rough fabric of his jeans made her inner thighs even more sensitive, and her eyes tipped closed as she just
felt.

Need.

Passion.

“I want to see all of you,” he said.

He lifted up her shirt and tossed it aside. Her eyes opened, and she stared at his face.
Intense.
Definitely the word to describe him right then. And all of his hot, feral intensity was on her. One hundred percent. His hand reached out and he caressed her breast, skimming his fingers along the nipple.

“So pretty,” Mac muttered. “Got to have a taste.” Then his head bent, and his mouth closed around her breast.

Her breath choked out, and her fingers clamped around his shoulders.

“Cinnamon,” he whispered. “Love the cinnamon.”

Elizabeth had no idea what Mac was talking about, and she didn't care. Her legs curled around him as she urged him closer. He was driving her insane with need. She wanted him to feel the same madness.

Her hands slid down his chest. Over the faint scars that marked him. Scars that showed his strength. She lightly traced the marks and felt him go rock hard beneath her touch.

“Elizabeth...”

She kissed his neck, giving him the same sensual treatment that he'd given to her. She licked, she caressed, she let him feel the faint edge of her teeth, then she slid down.

He moved back, but only just a little. Just enough for her to kiss his chest. To press her lips softly to the marks on his body. For her to have a turn licking his nipples. And then her hands went lower. She unhooked his jeans and slid down the zipper.

He caught her hands. “Baby, you are driving me insane.”

Good. That was exactly how she wanted him.

Mac kissed her again. Ever harder. Even hotter. And
his
hands were the ones moving now. Sliding between her legs. Pushing up between the folds of her sex. Caressing her. Stroking her. Making her whole body quiver because she could feel her release building.

Her hand flew out, and she grabbed the table to steady herself. She knocked over a wineglass, but she didn't care.

She only cared about Mac and the way he was making her feel.

His fingers pushed into her and withdrew, a maddening rhythm that had her arching into his touch and needing
more.
“Mac.” His name was a demand. They'd waited long enough. She needed him.

“Oh, damn, you are gorgeous.” And he stroked her more. His fingers slid over the center of her need. Pressing, sliding, pulling her closer and closer to that release.

His fingers thrust into her and he kissed her.

Her climax hit her while she kissed him. It roared through her body, making every muscle go tight. Her eyes squeezed closed even harder as she savored the pleasure pumping through her.

“Yes,” he whispered against her mouth. “Baby, yes, and we're just starting.”

He kept caressing her, and her flesh was so sensitive now that she shuddered. Only—he pulled away. He stepped back from her.

Oh, no, that was
not
happening. “Mac.” Again, his name was a demand.

Then she saw what he was doing. He ripped open a foil packet, sheathed his arousal then was back to her. He positioned himself between her thighs. This time both of her hands clamped tightly around the edge of the table as she balanced herself. She could tell by the blaze in his eyes that his control was gone. He was just as lost as she was, and Elizabeth loved it.

He drove into her, thrusting deep, and she clamped around him. Their gazes held as the passion spiraled between them. Fast and hot. She was panting. He was holding on to her like he'd never let her go. The pleasure mounted again. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears.

She couldn't look away from his green stare. He was gazing at her as if she were the center of his world. As if nothing else had ever mattered to him.

As if nothing else ever would.

Her legs wrapped around his hips, and she surged up toward him, frantic, so desperate and—

Pleasure.
It exploded over her, and she saw the same rapture hit him. His gaze seemed to go blind and he shouted her name. His hold was fierce, too tight, but she didn't care. Right then she was far too gone to care.

They rode out that release together, a hot pleasure that drove away all sane thought.

Nothing was supposed to be that good. Nothing. The pleasure wasn't stopping. It kept rolling through her, and Elizabeth couldn't pull in a deep-enough breath.

“So good,” Mac whispered. “Knew it would be like this...first time I saw you.”

She hadn't known. She'd never realized anything could be this good.

There were no defenses between them. No masks. No shields. She could swear in that moment, as she looked into his eyes, that she was staring straight into his soul.

Mac leaned forward and kissed her.

The need built once more.

Chapter Eight

“Do you know who the hell that guy is yet?” Sullivan demanded as he paced in police captain Ben Howard's office.

“He hasn't spoken since being taken into custody,” Ben said as he sat in his chair, expelling a long sigh. “But we've got his prints. We're running them through the system—”

“I don't think that guy is
in
your system,” Sullivan said as he started to pace. “He's a professional, and I don't think he's been caught before.”

Ben nodded. “But we caught him
this
time.”

Only because the guy had been so determined to kill Elizabeth Snow, at all costs. “He went off the deep end on this one. He could have played it cool...gone after her when there was less heat but...”

“But he didn't,” Ben said, his voice hardening. “Maybe the guy has been killing so long that he thought no one could ever stop him. I've seen that crap before. Perps think they're untouchable.” He grunted. “The guy is plenty touchable now. He's in lockup, and he's not going anyplace.”

It didn't make sense to Sullivan. “Why did he have to eliminate Elizabeth right now? Why not wait a few days? Why get so desperate?” He just didn't understand that. “If the guy is really a professional, he should've had more control. He—”

“Maybe he did have more control,” Ben cut in, voice turning thoughtful. “Maybe it's his boss who didn't.”

Sullivan stilled as possibilities began to buzz in his mind. “The boss got desperate. He thought the reporter and Elizabeth were about to spill his secrets, so he ordered their deaths. Kill them,” Sullivan said, thinking this through, “at all costs.”

Ben's head inclined toward him. “That scenario works for me. The guy pulling the strings is the one who told the hit man to act. And I can't help but wonder if that same fellow is the one who told him it was fine to kill a cop along the way, as long as it helped to get his dirty job done.”

“How is Detective Chafer? Is she going to be okay?” Sullivan asked quietly.

Ben rubbed his hand over his face. “I don't know. The doctors are working on her, but she's in ICU. She just survived one firestorm down here at the station. IA put her through the ringer, trying to see if she was dirty like Shayne Townsend.”

Sullivan didn't let his expression alter. Shayne had once been a friend, a close friend, but ultimately the cop had betrayed the McGuires. “And what do you think about her involvement?”

His hand fell. “I think Melinda Chafer is a good cop, and I won't believe otherwise unless someone can show me concrete proof. Hell, that woman was being wheeled back to surgery, and she was still trying to make sure Elizabeth Snow was okay.
That's
a good cop. She was telling the docs that the guy who took her called himself the Fixer and—”

Sullivan stepped toward him. “Did she say anything else?”

Ben shook his head. “No, just that. Over and over again until the anesthesia kicked in, she was saying the Fixer had taken her.”

“And do you know of a hit man who goes by that moniker?”

“I don't, but you can bet I'm checking every connection I've got.” Ben hesitated. “You McGuires have some pretty handy connections, too.”

They did. Legal and not-so-legal. “I'm on it.” And he might turn up a result long before the cops did.

There was one person in particular who might be able to help him, but... Sullivan hadn't spoken to her in years. Not since he'd turned his back and walked away.

The hardest damn thing I've ever done.
And the one act that haunted him the most. But he'd had a choice to make back then. His family or—

“I want to talk to that guy,” Sullivan said abruptly. He knew that Mac would be wanting an up-close-and-personal talk, too.

“
I'm
going to finish talking to him first,” Ben told him. “I get my questions answered and then...maybe we'll see if the McGuire family can get a run at him.”

Sullivan lifted a brow. “Playing hardball, are you?”

“You're a civilian. You're not supposed to be in there and—”

“Ben.” Sullivan's voice was flat. “Don't play games. You know what I am and what I'm not.” He kept his gaze on the other man. Ben had connections to Uncle Sam, too. Connections that not everyone understood. Some jobs just weren't ever passed along to the rest of the world. “Mac and I are going to want some time with the Fixer.”

“I thought it might be personal,” Ben murmured, “when I saw the way Mac tore after Elizabeth Snow.”

Sullivan knew his brother had lost any objectivity where Elizabeth was concerned. The case was definitely personal for Mac, and that could prove to be a very dangerous thing.

* * *

T
HEY
'
D
MADE
IT
to the bed. Darkness surrounded them, but Elizabeth didn't mind the dark—not then. Not when she was with Mac.

Her whole body ached, but in a good way. She wasn't afraid of anything. And even her past didn't make her tense.

There was more to the world than blood and death. And there was a whole lot more to living than just careful control.

“Is it time for your secrets?” Mac's voice rumbled in the darkness.

Her hand was on his chest, right over his slowly drumming heartbeat. That steady beat reassured her. “What do you want to know?” Elizabeth asked him.

“You grew up in North Dakota...”

Ah, she was sure he'd already dug up this information, but she told him, “Yes, in a small town called Gibson.” Such a small place. Not a lot of money. Not a lot of hope.

“How did you meet Nate?”

She smiled at the memory. “I met him at a bookstore. I was staring through the window, and he came up behind me. At first I thought he was looking at the books in the display. Then I realized he was looking at me.” Her fingers slid along his warm skin. “With Nate, I felt like that was the first time someone had actually seen me.
Me.
I was trouble to the others, a bother, so I just got by on my own. I stole.” She admitted this with no emotion. “I took when I was desperate. And I got caught.” More than a few times. “I didn't like juvie, but when I was hungry and there wasn't any food nearby, what was I supposed to do?” It was the painful truth. There had been
nothing
for her. “Nate was driving through town. He never meant to stay, he told me that. But we clicked.”

His body seemed to have tensed beneath her touch. “You loved him.”

“The way that only an eighteen-year-old girl can.” She laughed at herself, thinking of that girl, of the desperate hope that had filled her. “I wasn't alone with Nate. He didn't look at me...”
Say it.
“He didn't look at me as if I were trash. He didn't judge me. He looked at me—even that first moment—like I was the thing he'd always been searching for.”

Just saying the words sounded silly, but they were true. When she'd caught Nate's gaze in that glass...

“It sounds like he was a smart boy,” Mac's voice rumbled. “Sometimes you see the one thing you
know
that you need.” There was a tension in his voice that she didn't fully understand.

Elizabeth cleared her throat and continued, “He asked me to leave North Dakota. He said there wasn't anything there for us. We'd only been dating a few weeks, and I—”

“You what?”

“I didn't even hesitate. I gave up that place in an instant. Back then I lived in the moment. People called me wild, and I was. I was taking my chance at happiness, and I wasn't going to be the girl everyone pitied any longer. I was going to be different. Nate and I—
we
were going to be different. We made plans. We had dreams...” Her voice trailed away. “Then all of that was gone. I'd given up my home...whatever that was worth...and I was in a strange place. The cops suspected me. The reporters harassed me. I had nothing. No one.”

His fingers curled around her chin. He kissed her. A fast, hard kiss. “You have me now.”

For how long?
She pushed the thought away. “I became stronger after that...determined. I knew I could break. I could shatter and fall away. I could die, just like Nate had, and no one would even notice.” That was what had hurt the most. She'd grieved over Nate but...who would have grieved over her? “I decided to change. I worked any job I could. I saved every penny, and I made a life for myself.” A life surrounded by the books that had given her solace—books that had always been her escape.

After Nate's death, she wouldn't have survived without them. How many sleepless nights had she spent, curled up with a book? She hadn't been able to bear the nightmares, so she'd slipped into another world. And slowly, so slowly, she'd recovered.

“Why'd you settle in Texas?” Mac asked her.

“I like to travel. I move, every few years. Always looking for something new.”
Looking for a place that feels like home.
“But...Nate told me that he'd been born in Texas. So maybe I came here because of that. He'd told me that he loved this area, and when a position opened up, I thought—why not? He was from Dallas, not Austin, but it still just seemed, I don't know—right.” But that had been before a killer came calling.

“I'm glad you came here.”

“Even with the trouble I brought you?”

His arm curled around her. “I'm glad,” he said again, simply.

In the dark, she smiled.

“I was too good...” Mac said slowly. “At what I did.”

Her head turned on the pillow, moving automatically toward his voice.

“I realized that just a few months after basic training. So did my superiors. It all came easy to me, and I was pushed up the ranks. Given the harder missions. Missions that were the most dangerous, and I loved them.”

She waited.

“I've killed, yes. And when I did, I didn't hesitate.” His voice held no emotion. “What does that say about me?”

“Mac...”

“When I got word that my parents had been murdered, I was on a black-ops mission. By the time I got back home, they were already buried. There was nothing of them left for me, and my sister—she wouldn't even look at me. Ava had been a happy, smiling girl when I left. One of the best things in my world. When I came back, she was a stranger. And hell, so was I.”

It had been easier for her to confess her past in the darkness. As he talked, she realized the darkness made it easier for Mac to confess, too.

“I'd only been back in the US for a few weeks when the CIA contacted me.”

The CIA?

“Me and Sullivan. We were both picked for their Special Activities Division.”

“I—I haven't heard of that division.”

“SAD exists. Most people just don't talk about it. Sullivan and I were both made offers. They wanted us to work for them. Hell, I wanted to escape the pain. My home was gone, and it looked like the perfect option for me.”

She knew where this was going. “You signed up.”

“No.”

Elizabeth blinked in surprise.

“Ava needed me too much. So did Grant. We were trying to figure out who'd taken our parents.
I'd already told Grant he could count on me. What I didn't know...” His breath expelled. “I didn't know that Sullivan had agreed to join,
before
our parents died. He'd already committed, and he didn't tell the rest of us.”

She thought of Sullivan. Of the deep shadows in his gaze. A shiver slid over her.

“Two months later I got a call from Sully in the middle of the night. He was in trouble. Off the grid. He had no one to trust, and the mission he was on...it was hard to tell the good guys from the bad.”

She wondered where he was going with this story. Why—

“I didn't just kill when I was Delta Force. My brother was in danger, Elizabeth. He needed my help, and I would have done
anything
to bring Sully back home.” His voice had deepened. “I had to fight to get him back. By the time I found him, it was almost too late. Men on his own team had betrayed him. He thought that
everyone
had betrayed him. He was being held in a pit, more dead than alive, and I—” Mac drew a ragged breath. “I made sure to get him out. I killed, to get him out.”

“You protected your family.”

“I killed.” Flat. “When it comes to the ones I care about, nothing stops me. No one gets in my way. I do anything necessary.”

It sounded as if he was warning her. Did he think she was a threat to his family? Oh, jeez, after what had happened to Grant, how could he think any differently? “I'm so sorry about Grant,” Elizabeth said quickly, sitting up and pulling the sheet with her. “I never meant for him—”

“You shot to protect my brother. I'll never forget that,” he said. She felt the bed dip as he sat up, too. “But you need to always remember, I'm not some easygoing guy. The stories you've heard about me are true. I'm dangerous, Elizabeth. And when I hunt, when I'm pushed too far, I am a perfect weapon.”

He wasn't a weapon. He was a man.

In the darkness, her hand rose. She touched his cheek, feeling the stubble that lined his jaw. “You are more than that.”

“Don't be too sure.” But his head turned, and he pressed a hot kiss to her palm. “You don't know the measures I'd go to...you don't know what I'd do...” His voice trailed off.

“Mac?”

“You don't know what I'd do...to save you.”

* * *

E
LIZABETH
S
NOW
WASN
'
T
DEAD
.

The confirmation hadn't come in. The Fixer had screwed up. Again. He'd been paid far too much money for this sort of mistake.