Читать книгу Mission: Marriage: Bulletproof Marriage - Lyn Stone - Страница 13

“Sean, I need the truth.”

He started, yanked up out of a light doze. The soft question came out of nowhere, the dark room amplifying the sensual sound of her breathing, of her silky voice. “I gave you the truth.” Blinking, he cleared his throat. “Honestly, I told you what really happened.”

“No. You told me pieces.” Her tone made it clear she thought there was more. “You left part of the puzzle out. The biggest piece. What’s the real reason the Hungarian wants to destroy you?”

His heart thudding dully in his chest, he swallowed. She’d asked the one question he’d dreaded for so many years. The one question that, if he answered, might completely and utterly destroy whatever speck of love remained in her heart for him.

Propped into the corner of the high-backed chair, her elegant neck looking impossibly long, her short, copper-colored hair sticking up in wanton disarray and her half-lidded amber gaze appearing sultry, she made him want her all over again.

He couldn’t help but wonder if she knew her beauty struck him dumb. Fervently, he hoped she didn’t.

While he stared, she stared back. Finally, she narrowed her eyes, the dim light from the lamp making them appear to glow golden. “Are you even awake enough to talk?”

He could have taken the coward’s way out—told her he wanted to go back to sleep and they’d talk about this in the morning. But he was tired of running, tired of hiding. And, even though he’d given her a partial truth, he was damn sick and tired of having her think he’d disappeared because he didn’t care.

“I’m waking up.” Sean couldn’t help but wonder if she remembered the way he always woke around her—aroused and ready. She used to love teasing him, until they both were panting and breathless.

Damn. Remembering didn’t help his current situation at all. Pushing himself up, he plumped up the pillow and propped it against the headboard. He was careful to keep the blankets piled on top of his lap.

“At the time, I believed I had no choice.” It was the closest he could bring himself to admit he might have, in the awful grief and rage, made an error in judgment.

“I thought our marriage was based upon trust. Love. Respect. You’ve proved me wrong with your lies. You weren’t the man I thought you were, Sean.” Her voice broke. “The man I loved.”

He opened his mouth, closed it and swallowed. In this, with secret upon secret upon secret, he wasn’t even certain where to begin. There were some things he’d believed he would never have to tell her.

Now, he knew he had no choice. If they were ever to have a second chance together, Natalie had to know everything.

She misread his hesitation as refusal. “Cut the crap. Tell me everything.”

Everything. He closed his eyes and sighed. The rest of what he had to tell her tasted like bile, though he knew someday she’d have to know the truth.

All of the truth, no matter how much it hurt.

“Start at the beginning, so I can keep this straight.” Her clothes rustled as she moved. “Begin with the family reunion.”

Though his feud with the Hungarian went back much further than that, the family reunion was a good place to start. Natalie had been scheduled to arrive close to the same time as his parents. A missed flight had saved her life.

Clearing his throat, he began. “What the Hungarian did to my family earned him a special niche in hell.

“I arrived on the island early, planning to surprise my folks and you. I’ll never forget jumping out of the rented boat and jogging toward the main house, full of excitement.

“The pool of blood on the front porch was my first clue something was wrong.”

He tasted bile and swallowed, forcing himself to continue. “Bloody footprints in the foyer had me running for the den. My family was there—or what was left of them. The killers had dragged them into the center of the room and tossed them in a horrible, bloody heap.”

Eyes wide, she watched him. “Dead?”

“Oh yes. They were all dead. Brutally murdered. Missing limbs, or eyes or heads. From the expression on their faces, they’d suffered horribly before they died.”

The blood leached from her face. “I’m so sorry.”

Ignoring her, he continued. “Frantic, my first thought was for you, my wife. I couldn’t find you. Your body wasn’t in the bloody carnage of all that remained of my family. I searched every inch of that doomed vacation house. Nothing. Nada. Zip.

“As if losing my parents and brother and sister weren’t enough.” Again he swallowed, blinking back tears. “I couldn’t bear losing the woman I loved more than life itself, too. But I couldn’t find you.”

“I wasn’t there,” she reminded him, softly.

Ignoring her, he went on. “For one terrible moment, I believed you’d been taken hostage by him, a man who had no problem ordering the brutal torture and slaying of innocent people. But when I turned on my cell phone to call the police, I found the message you’d left while I was in flight. I played it back. Your cheerful voice seemed out of place as I stood in the middle of the bloodstained room and played it, again and again and again.”

“The message I left telling you my flight had been cancelled.” Her whisper was hoarse, the pain in her voice as raw as his own.

“Yes.” He didn’t tell her that right then he’d fallen on his knees and thanked God she was alive. Natalie was alive. As long as she lived, the Hungarian hadn’t won. She’d been spared the sight of the carnage, of the message written in blood on the living room floor.

This is only the beginning. We’re not done.

He’d known then. The Hungarian had done this to make him pay.

The blame for all these deaths could be laid squarely at his feet. The murders were his fault. Repercussions always had a way of catching up with you. He should have known that.

But even then, even grieving and hurting and furious, he’d tried to figure out a way to save Natalie. Because he’d known the Hungarian wouldn’t rest until she’d died a horribly slow death, just to punish him. Sean had wanted to spare her that fate. So he’d died instead.

Now, once again, he faced the consequences of his actions. Proving no one ever got off scot-free.

“Sean?” Her voice brought him back from the horrific memories. “Why didn’t you contact me, tell me what was going on?”

“I couldn’t risk it. If anything had happened to you …”

“I’m a trained SIS agent.” She sounded impatient. “I can protect myself.”

“I wasn’t thinking clearly. I’d just lost my entire family.” It was the first time he’d admitted it, even to himself.

He cleared his throat. “Nat, if I hadn’t died, the Hungarian would have killed you. You wouldn’t have seen it coming. Then he would have put a price on my head.”

“What did you do to make him hate you so much?”

Ah, the six-million-dollar question.

He took a deep breath, both dreading what he had to say, and relieved that he could finally say it, struggling to find the right words. Awash in pain he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in twenty-four months, two weeks and three days, he knew he couldn’t break down in front of her. Not now, when every word he said could impact his future.

Their future, if he dared to dream of such a thing.

“Years ago, before I met you …” Despite his resolve, he choked up.

Restless, he almost got up from the bed. But she hadn’t moved from her chair. Who knew—maybe all that psychology crap was right and allowing her to be in a seated position, and thus dominant, while he reclined on the bed, would make her feel better. And maybe, just maybe, help her understand. There was so much more he needed to say.

Yet once again, the words stuck in his throat.

The tears shimmering in her eyes nearly undid him. “It’s really awful, isn’t it?” she whispered.

He nodded, the truth catching in his throat, choking him. The most horrible lie of all.

But before he could think about how or even whether to begin, she got up and sat beside him. She placed her hand on his arm, sending shock waves through him. For a moment he simply existed, breathing her scent, feeling her touch, and felt he’d finally been allowed a glimpse of heaven.

“I—” he tried to begin.

Her voice as soft as her touch, she asked, “Instead of going into hiding, why didn’t you go after him and kill him? Make him pay for what he’s done? You were—are—an assassin. Some say the best. If anyone could bring the Hungarian down, it would be you. How could you allow a bastard like that to live?”

Wincing, he looked away. “That’s the same question that’s haunted many sleepless nights.” His insides churned. “I wanted to. God, how I wanted to. But I knew it would take time to find him. Your life was at stake. I couldn’t keep you with me always, and I couldn’t use you as bait—too much risk. Yes, I wanted him to pay, but I wanted you to live more. I made a snap decision, dazed by grief, full of rage.”

“So you faked your death.”

Put that way, his choice sounded cowardly. In truth, leaving her, making her a widow, had been the most difficult thing he’d ever done. Bar none.

“I had no choice.”

She shook her head. The grief in her expressive eyes mirrored that in his heart. “That’s where you’re wrong. You did, Sean. You did. I would have helped you hunt him down and kill him. Back then, we made a hell of a better team than we do now.”

Shoulders shaking, she got up and walked away, to the only place she could go, the small lavatory, leaving the rest of what he had to tell her trapped on his tongue.

Staring after her, he wondered if she’d ever understand. Or if she’d ever forgive.

And she didn’t even know the worst of it.

It took half an hour, but Natalie was reasonably certain she’d managed to hide all signs of her bout of weeping. Except for the red eyes, and she was banking on the dim lighting to hide that.

She’d halfheartedly hoped Sean had fallen asleep while she’d hidden in the bathroom, but when she opened the door he still waited, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

Despite herself, her best intentions flew out the window. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” Straightening, he looked away. “Remember, there’s more I’ve got to tell you.”

The bed dipped as she sat down beside him. “You can do that later. I think I’ve had enough for one day.”

“But—”

“Seriously. Unless what you want to tell me will endanger my life if I don’t learn it, let it be for one more day. I can’t take any more today, okay?”

Finally, he nodded. The stark relief that flashed across his handsome face was painful to see. Especially since she felt the same—as if she’d dodged a bullet.

“Then let’s talk about something else.”

“What?”

“Anything,” she said. “You choose.”

“Tell me why you’re here, hiding from your own agency. Why you called Corbett and not SIS for help.”

“My entire team was slaughtered in SIS headquarters. Cut down in cold blood, without warning. Since SIS was breached once, I have no doubt it could be breached again. I don’t trust anyone there at the moment.”

“Breached?”

“We had a mole. Roland Millaflora. You might have heard of him.”

“But he was captured, right?”

“Yes. But I don’t know who he was working for, or worse, if he had help inside. So I’ve cut myself off from headquarters. As far as they know, I’m on the French Riviera.”

She yawned, then stood up and started to move away. “Let’s get some sleep. I have a feeling we’re going to need it.”

“Not yet.” His gaze darkened. “Come here, Nat.”

She opened her mouth and closed it. “Why?”

“Just come here.”

Suspicion had her frozen before she remembered he was a wounded man. Moving to his side, she reached for the water glass to refill it. “Do you want more water?”

He grabbed her arm, tugging her toward the bed. “No. I want you.”

Shocked, she stumbled and nearly fell. Righting herself, she perched on the edge of the bed, empty water glass still in hand. “You’re … you’re hurt, in pain.”

“So distract me.” Waiting, he watched her. “Come here.”

Trying to pretend the husky timbre of his voice didn’t affect her, she shook her head. If she moved, even one-tenth of an inch, she’d be all over him. Devouring him, as she’d wanted to do ever since he’d come back from the dead.

Not good.

Mouth dry, she tried to concentrate on something else. Like how badly she needed to file her nails. Or brush her hair. Except she couldn’t. Such a routine grooming shouldn’t become sensual, but with Sean in the room, even breathing aroused her.

So she kept still, unwilling to move and let him know how he affected her.

“Stop.” Pleased with her brisk tone, she shook her finger at him. “It’s almost morning. You need to try to rest. Thinking about sex won’t help you go to sleep.”

“I haven’t been with anyone else.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Why he felt compelled to share this information, she didn’t know. Unless he thought telling her would make her give in. She was glad he didn’t know how badly she wanted to give in. She supposed she ought to consider herself lucky he was injured.

“Your faithfulness—or lack of—doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.” He sounded firm. “I took a vow, in a church. I swore before God and this green earth that there’d be only you.”

Impatient now, afraid to think about what his confession meant, she shifted on the bed. “You don’t have to lie. I know you. You’re a very sensual man. There’s no way you went so long without any … feminine attention.”

He didn’t answer, drawing her gaze to him as he’d no doubt known his silence would.

Despite the hell he’d just gone through, he looked damn good. The devil himself couldn’t have looked better. His rugged features had gone serious, watching her in that intense way he had, his eyes dark and full of secrets. His black hair gleamed in the artificial light, one lock falling forward onto his brow. In times past, she’d always brushed that wayward strand back, and he’d grabbed her wrist and kissed her hand.

She shivered, telling herself to look away yet totally unable to.

Sean.

He waited, powerful arms relaxed, his hands dark against the pale blanket, and let her look at him. No doubt, she thought with irritation, he wanted her to remember the sensual pleasures they’d once shared. He wanted to tempt her with more than an apple, even knowing that if she touched him now, she’d be giving up what was left of her soul.

She couldn’t, wouldn’t let that happen. No matter how badly she wanted him, this dark, fallen angel who’d once belonged to her.

The woman who’d loved him had died when she’d thought he’d died. Just because he’d come back to life didn’t mean she could.

“Two years, Sean. It’s been two years. You pretended to be dead, for heaven’s sake! Don’t you dare try to seduce me now.”

“Natalie, I—”

“No.” She shifted uncomfortably. “And you shouldn’t even be thinking that way. You’re wounded.”

“Only my leg and foot. The rest of me is fine.”

His quip elicited no smile from her. “Stop.”

“Please,” he said. That one word nearly undid her, because the Sean McGregor she’d known had never had to ask her for anything. She’d given of herself freely and with pleasure, always happy to put her love for him in physical terms.

“You’re killing me,” she managed, clearing her throat to try to force out coherent words. “Quit. Just quit.”

Another man might have laughed or attempted to defend himself by pointing out that he’d done nothing, made no move.

Not Sean. He understood, as she’d known he would. Their relationship had always been both cerebral and physical.

Her sigh was full of regret. “Working with you is more difficult than I thought it would be.”

“You’re telling me.” He gave her a rueful smile, finally letting her see the pain in his eyes. “I’d leave, but moving would be rather painful right now, in more ways than one.”

Closing her eyes, she inhaled sharply, unable to prevent herself from remembering what he’d been like when fully aroused.

“I’ll go.” She pushed herself to her feet, moving unsteadily toward the bathroom.

Closing the door, she turned on the tap and splashed water on her face. Cold water. Eyeing her dripping face in the mirror, she hated the lingering desire she saw there. She’d had two years to lose every hint of weakness inside her. Evidently she hadn’t been successful. One look from Sean had her wanting to melt.

Taking a deep breath, she emerged from the lavatory.

Sean had fallen asleep. Good.

Without changing her clothes, she climbed into the bed next to him, sliding under the covers. They both needed their rest. Tomorrow promised to be a long day.

Tonight promised to be an even longer night.

The chime of her cell phone woke her. Groggy, she flipped open the casing and muttered a hello.

“Natalie?” Not only did her father sound wide awake, but unnaturally cheery. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” She shot Sean a quick glance. The phone and her voice had awakened him, too. He lay on his side and watched her, eyes gleaming in the dim light. “We were still asleep. Late night.”

“Did you learn anything relevant?”

“Only that someone really wants me dead. Some shooter with an AK-47 came after me. Sean was hit.”

The sharp sound of her father inhaling told her he was stunned. He’d always liked Sean. “How badly is he hurt?”

“Not life-threatening. I got the bullet out, but combined with his broken foot, he’s in no shape for a manhunt.”

“I see. I don’t suppose there’s a chance you could talk him into going back to the Highlands to heal?”

The Highlands. She felt a sharp stab of pain. “Is that where he’s been all this time?”

“Hasn’t he told you anything?”

“No.” Unable to keep the bitterness from her voice, Natalie sighed, aware of Sean listening. “Sean has said precious little about what he’s been doing since he ‘died.’”

Silence fell while her father digested this. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I promise you, if I’d known, I would have moved heaven and hell to get you to him.”

“I know.” Tiredly, Natalie bit back a sharp retort, concentrating on sounding calm, cool and collected, as an expert field operative should. “I’m surprised Corbett didn’t tell you.”

Her father’s deep chuckle reassured her. “You know how he is. He only reveals what he wants, when he wants. I’m sure he believed this was in your best interest.”

“Maybe. But I would have liked a say in deciding that.”

“I know. But you’ve got to move forward, Natalie. Whatever you decide about Sean, you’ve got to go on with your life.”

Easy for him to say. But he was right, as usual.

Blinking back tears and swallowing against the hot ache in her throat, Natalie realized her hand was beginning to go numb from her white-knuckled grip on the phone. She relaxed her fingers and straightened her shoulders.

“I’m trying, Papa,” she whispered.

“Good.” After exchanging a few more pleasantries, her father rang off. Natalie closed the phone and looked up to find Sean watching her.

“Papa said you’ve been living in the Highlands.”

Expression shuttered, he nodded. “Yes.”

She’d only been there once, and he’d taken her. Her first impression had been of chilly damp mystery—the land shrouded itself in mist, hiding its secrets.

“If I remember correctly, you didn’t see much of the scenery when we were there,” he drawled.

Her cheeks warmed. “True.” They’d been newly married and had spent the entire time in bed. From the way Sean’s eyes darkened, she knew he remembered, too.

“I never forgot,” he said. “As I matter of fact, I bought a cottage in a glen near where we stayed.”

Helpless to move, she could only stare. “Why, Sean? Why?”

“It’s beautiful there. Peaceful. No bloodshed or gunshots or murder. Just sheep and goats and the occasional bark of a collie.”

“You sound as though you made a home there.”

“In a way. But my cottage always missed something.”

She didn’t want to ask—but she had to. “What? What were you missing there?”

“You.”

For the space of several heartbeats they stared at each other, his gaze full of longing, making her wonder if the same need showed in her eyes.

Once, they wouldn’t have hesitated. Sex had been a balm on anything, a mind-blotting sort of plaster they’d used to fill the cracks in their relationship. And there had been fractures, she realized now. She’d been too blind to see them or, if she’d noticed at all, she’d believed herself too happy to care.

But what about Sean? Had these small fissures become a huge crevice to him? Had this been why he hadn’t trusted her enough, why he’d felt he had to do something as drastic as fake his own death?

Second chances were hard to come by, and she refused to begin even the possibility of healing by using sex as a balm. Not this time. Not ever again.

Tossing her cell phone to Sean, she climbed out of bed. “I’ve got the first shower. If Corbett calls back, talk to him.”