Chapter Nine.

Coyoacn Borough, 9:00 p.m.

Slade checked his backpack one last time. Ramondo had done well. Slade had everything he needed. Two handguns, sufficient ammo, a couple of surprises the Dragon would not be expecting and the necessary papers under a new alias. Not to mention he had ground transportation.

She would be watching, expecting him.

His mother. Slade hadn't called her mother since he was twelve years old. That was the day she'd terminated the older of the other two. Slade's brother, even if not by blood. She'd chosen Slade's birthday so that he would not forget the price of failure.

"You have everything you need?"

Maggie hadn't said much since his three-minute shower. He'd hurried through the task, leaving the door open to make sure she understood he would know if she tried to make a run for it. Ramondo would be watching, as well. This part was difficult for her, but she would be safest this way. Allowing her any closer to the danger could prove a costly mistake. Though he could not eradicate all risk, his confidence that she would be safe here was somewhat more solid. One day she would understand. Her friends at the Colby Agency would explain to her that he'd made the right decision.

He banished thoughts of the Colby Agency. There was nothing there for him. He'd made a mistake seeking them out. The past two years had been a calculated error. He dismissed the denial that nudged at him.

"Yes." He faced the woman who stood in the middle of the room looking frightened and worried. The idea that her worry was as much for him as for herself aroused unfamiliar feelings in him. No one, except maybe Alayna, had ever cared whether he lived or died. The Dragon's only concern had been whether or not he completed the mission. Whether he survived was irrelevant.

"Are you leaving now?"

The fear in her eyes prompted doubts he shouldn't feel. He picked up his cell from the table where he had it charging, and checked the time, mostly to avoid looking at her. "I have a couple hours yet."

"Why does she hate you so?"

Not responding, Slade crossed to the kitchenette and poured a cup of coffee. Again, more to prevent having to meet her gaze than for the caffeine. He was weak right now. Weary with changing lives too frequently and weak from the mistake of allowing himself to believe he could have what others had. What a joke. He had watched Maggie until his curiosity turned to admiration and then to yearning.

He was a fool to believe that kind of life could be his. The potential did not exist in him.

"You're leaving," Maggie went on. "What difference does it make if you tell me? I need to know since...I probably won't see you again."

The words echoed in his brain like the rat-a-tat-tat of a machine gun. They shook him to the core.

She wouldn't see him again. That was what she wanted and it was the best decision for both of them. She deserved her life back. If he hadn't been such a fool, this situation wouldn't have happened.

Slade turned to her, leaned against the counter and elbowed aside the foreign emotions just looking at her generated. What was the harm in giving her a glimpse of the truth? Maybe he owed her that much.

"When I was six she taught me to disa.s.semble and rea.s.semble six different weapons, one for each year of my life." He forced down a slug of coffee, the memories making the effort more than a little difficult. "Whenever I made a mistake, she held my head under the water. She would do a series of six dunks, five seconds more each time I screwed up." Instinctively, he sought that place where he felt nothing-a place more familiar to him than his birth name. The first few times she'd dunked him, he had come up from the water screaming. Eventually he'd learned to utilize that fleeting moment to drag air into his lungs. His fingers clenched around the cheap stoneware cup. "It didn't take me long to get it right every time."

Horror gathered like storm clouds in her expression. Her arms visibly tightened around her waist. "You were just a child!"

He laughed, the sound dry and riddled with disgust, as much with himself as his so-called mother. "By the time I was ten I was an expert marksman on any weapon I was big enough to hold. I learned hand-to- hand combat, the proper use and disposal of explosives. She had moved on, as well. To different techniques to punish my mistakes." A smile edged its way into the corners of his lips. "You see, I learned to hold my breath so well and for so long that her water torture no longer worked. That she couldn't use that to terrify me infuriated her."

Maggie's breath caught as realization dawned. "The scars."

He downed more of the coffee. They had talked about the scars. He had told her he'd been in an accident, but that had been just another of his stock responses. "Torture techniques are one of her specialties. The slower the better."

Maggie walked slowly toward him. He tensed. Having her touch him...having her make him feel anything else would be treading into dangerous territory. She reached out and placed the palm of her hand over his heart. "What about this?"

Heat from her palm warmed that icy place. "That's where I had a tattoo removed." The memory of that long-ago day, when she had branded him, caused his fingers to curl with the need to choke her. He would not fail with this last mission.

A frown furrowed her brow. "Why that one? You have other tattoos." He did. Liberty or Death on his left biceps. Solitary on his back. But those were different. He had chosen those. The other had been her mark. "She branded some of us." That was a monumental understatement but close enough.

"Us?"

"Her chosen ones." His chest convulsed even now, after all these years. "The ones who made up the Code." He clamped his mouth shut. That part he should have kept to himself. That single word could cost Maggie her life. But it was too late. He couldn't take it back. She would never let it go so easily.

"What does that mean?" Her hand dropped to her side. "What kind of code?"

He finished off the coffee and moved around her. "I've already said too much." What the h.e.l.l had he been thinking? That he wanted her not to hate him...not to think he was a monster for no real reason. The truth was, he was more monster than man. Maggie James had merely seen what he'd wanted her to see.

She should hate him. Like all the p.a.w.ns he used, she had no idea the things he had done in his life. If she knew just a fraction, she would recoil in disgust.

"There was no one to stop her? Did anyone even try?" The misery in her voice tugged at him, made him want to be wrapped inside the compa.s.sion she offered for the child he had never been. No one had been there to save him. He had been completely alone with pure evil. No one had cared. Least of all his father. Fury twisted in his gut. He shook his head. Speaking would only reveal more of that uncharacteristic weakness.

"Why did she do this?"

This had gone far enough. She had traced his steps and waited right behind him, the sweet, innocent smell of her, the feel of her body so close, tugging at his senses. Why did he torture himself?

"Why would she teach a child those things? It's...it's insane."

Her shock or maybe her too-logical question prompted another of his fake laughs. "She created the perfect team of infiltrators and a.s.sa.s.sins." He turned to see her face. He wanted to see the disgust. Maybe that would stop these alien sensations hurtling through him. "I can't even remember the number of people I've killed, much less their names or faces." She had taught him not to look. He could see without looking, she would say.

The disgust he'd expected failed to make an appearance on Maggie's face. Instead, he saw sympathy, pain, compa.s.sion. He had to look away.

"Why didn't anyone stop her?"

Enough. He rounded on her, anger blasting through him. "Because she killed anyone who got in her way." Another of those laughlike sounds burst from his throat. "The one person who could have stopped her was missing in action."

Maggie flinched, but she held her ground. "Who is this woman? Who gave her that much power over a child?"

Slade hesitated.

"Tell me," she demanded. "Who is she? How did you end up with such an evil woman?"

Maggie was mad as h.e.l.l on his behalf. He was thirty years old and not once in his life had anyone looked ready to tear apart a lion in his defense.

"She's my mother."

The shock and horror chased away the anger and outrage. Maggie blinked, opened her mouth to speak, but apparently couldn't find the words she wanted to say. Then she licked her lips and Slade didn't care if she said anything at all.

He needed to taste her. To obliterate the memories and the hatred with her sweetness...her softness.

Closing the one step between them, he swept her into his arms and crushed her mouth with his. The fresh taste of fruit and milk made him want to eat her alive. Her body's soft mounds and lean valleys melded with the hard plains of his own. Arousal was instantaneous. He wanted to drink in all of her. To lose himself completely inside her.

She resisted at first, then she turned pliable. His hands roved over her backside, catching the hem of her blouse and dragging it up and over her head. He dropped the blouse to the floor and filled his palms with her unrestrained b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The feel of her erect nipples urged him on. She wanted him. She always wanted him.

Slade carried her to the bed. The mattress was old and lumpy, but the sheets were clean. She whimpered as he peeled off her socks, first one, then the other. The pink polish on her toenails made him ache with need. Maggie kept her fingernails short and neat for working in the coffee shop, but her toenails always blazed with s.e.xy color. He lifted her foot and nibbled at her toes. She gasped, her eyes wide with desire.

Slowly, he wiggled and dragged her slacks down her body, then tossed them aside. Her legs were long and silky, her creamy skin already flushed with the same fire blazing along his every nerve ending.

He licked her delicate ankle, measuring the fragility of her small size. Her fingers fisted in the sheet as he kissed his way up her calf, then her thigh. Her legs were toned yet velvety, and he liked the way she wrapped them around him. There was no part of her he didn't savor when they made love. He explored the juncture between her thighs with his tongue and lips, craving more even as her flavor filled him.

Her bottom reared off the mattress, soft moans is suing from her throat. He trailed his tongue over the slight rise of her mound and lapped at her quivering belly. Tracing each elegant rib, he made his way to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. His body stretched along the length of hers, he paused to admire her lush b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Perfect, pale mounds topped with firm, crimson peaks. He squeezed each one in turn, watching her pink lips part in desperate longing. One nipple at a time, he suckled until she cried out. Her body writhed with the escalating waves of fulfillment. He reached down and nuzzled a finger inside to feel the contractions of completion throbbing inside that wet heat.

His body shook with the need to be deep in that intense, pulsing heat.

MAGGIE'S EYES DRIFTED OPEN. She fought for breath. Her body hummed with satisfaction even as new waves of need began to build inside her. He was touching her, moving his fingers between her legs in a way that fore-shadowed what she knew would come next.

She wanted to tell him to hurry. To give her what she needed. But she couldn't find her voice. Her hands roamed over his still-clothed body. She wanted his clothes off, his naked skin against her. She needed that thick length inside her.

Pushing against his chest, she rolled him onto his back and straddled him. Those intense gray eyes steamed with his own desire. He might pretend not to need her the way she needed him, but Maggie knew better. She freed one b.u.t.ton after the other until his shirt was loose. Pressing her most intimate place solidly onto his, she leaned down and kissed his chest, nuzzling each scar, especially the large one over his heart where he'd removed the tattoo that had branded him as belonging to that evil woman.

d.a.m.n her for what she had done to him. His mother! He didn't belong to her. He belonged to Maggie. If she never saw him again, they would have this night. And in her heart, he would always belong to her. The past didn't matter one bit to her. This moment was all they would have, and she wanted it to count.

Her fingers felt clumsy as she unfastened his jeans. The urgency for another release swelling in her had shifted to the need to give him that mind-blowing bliss. To make up for the pain he had suffered in the past. She wanted him to know what unconditional love felt like.

And she did love him. She would never stop loving him. No matter the ugly secrets she learned. No matter what happened tomorrow.

She scooted down the length of him and removed his shoes and socks. Then she tugged his jeans down, revealing a lean waist and narrow hips, and then lower along well-muscled legs. When the jeans joined his shirt on the floor, she gave him the same attention he'd given her. She kissed her way up his powerful legs. She closed her eyes and relished the memories of those strong legs planted between hers night after night.

He was fully aroused, hard and hot. Ready to fill her like no man before him. She took him into her mouth as deeply as she dared. His body tensed, muscles bunching in antic.i.p.ation beneath her touch. She worked her way up and down, drawing on him with every push and pull of her lips.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her mouth up to his. The flavor of him mingled with the essence of her as their kiss turned desperate. She sucked his tongue deeper into her mouth. He rolled her onto her back and parted her legs with one knee. Her legs went around his sinewy waist and he planted himself fully and deeply inside her.

She closed her eyes and lost her breath. For long seconds he held still, allowing her muscles to stretch enough to accommodate him completely. Then he moved. Slowly at first, then hard and fast, with that ferocity that nearly terrified her. But her mind reeled too wildly with spiraling ecstasy to truly be afraid. She wanted him. All of him. As hard and fast as he wanted to give himself to her. Later the fear would trickle in to mix with the worry and regret. But not now.

Her fingers dug into his back, her teeth clamped down on her lower lip to hold back a scream of animal pleasure. The waves of desire built, higher and higher, until they crashed over her and she fell into that place of sheer ecstasy, unable to do anything but drift along with every beat of their hearts, every rush of friction between their bodies.

He stopped, stone still. Her entire body went rigid in protest.

She squeezed him. "Don't stop," she urged. She wanted more. He was leaving and she needed this to be enough...to last for the rest of her life. Tears abruptly burned her eyes. He was leaving. She would never see him again. What if he didn't survive this coming battle?

The child she carried would never know him.

He kissed her eyes, her nose, her trembling lips. Then lower. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were so tender that his every touch, every suckle had her crying out. He brought her to the brink of climax yet again with nothing more than his lips and his tongue. His fingers traced every curve, every rise, soothing each place his mouth tortured so exquisitely.

When she could take no more, he plunged into her over and over until she came apart in his arms. Every cell detonated with fiery pleasure before melting beneath him. He groaned with his own climax, stroking in and out until they had both experienced the last inkling of physical gratification.

Long minutes pa.s.sed before her respiration returned to normal and her mind worked again. She lay in his arms, her skin soaking up the warmth of his. Her fingers trailed small patterns on his chest. Touching him completed her in a way that wouldn't be easy to live without. How could she let him go? But how in the world could she hope to stop him?

"I still don't understand. Why didn't someone stop her?" she whispered. Child Protective Services, the police, anyone.

His body stiffened in that way it always did when he emotionally withdrew, but he didn't pull away from her physically as she had expected him to. Still, the long moment of silence that followed warned that he might not respond at all.

"There was no one to stop her. No school officials because I was schooled by her. No police because she lives above the law."

Dear G.o.d, what kind of monster would do this to her own child? "But you got away?"

"When I was eighteen."

"You've been running from her all that time?" She laid her head against his chest. What a nightmare for him.

"Not running from her, not really."

Maggie held her breath, prayed he would confide in her. Two years she had waited for this.

"I was running from who I was." He stroked her shoulder, slid his palm along her rib cage and over her hip. "From what she made me."

Maggie squeezed her eyes shut to hold back the tears stinging in her eyes. She summoned her courage. "There's no other way to stop her?" If he confronted her, she would have him killed without ever lifting a hand. Maggie hated her and she'd never even seen a picture of her, much less met her.

He shook his head. "This is the only way."

Fear strangled Maggie's heart. Her lips parted with the need to tell him her secret, but she stopped. She couldn't do that. If he came back to her it had to be because he wanted to be with her.

"Nothing I can say or do will change your mind?" Again she held her breath. They could go to the Colby Agency and ask for help. And what about the men who worked for him at his Equalizers shop? Couldn't they help? Maggie banished the memories of the brownstone exploding. The explosion-all of this-felt surreal.

Slade untangled himself from her and got up. Her body grieved the loss. "Believe me, Maggie, in time you'll be glad I'm gone."

Maggie watched as he gathered his clothes. She bit back the words that p.r.i.c.ked the tip of her tongue. Not in this lifetime.

As much as she wanted to put him and all the lies behind her, being glad about losing him was never going to happen.

Never.

Chapter Ten.

October 15, Midnight Slade watched Maggie sleep. She'd struggled to stay awake, but exhaustion had won the battle. In the end she'd curled into the covers, pulling the blanket up to her chin. Seated next to her on the edge of the bed, he clenched his fingers to resist touching that tousled red mane. Her hair was thick and curly and smelled of the fruity shampoo she used. The silky feel of it made him ache to thread his fingers through it over and over again.

Maggie was the first woman he'd allowed so close. Two years he had worked to seduce her, drawing her ever closer. At first, the step was nothing more than a positioning strategy. Her coffee shop was located directly across the street from the Colby Agency. As time pa.s.sed and she became more vital to his strategy, he'd found himself noticing things about her he'd never bothered to notice about the other women he'd encountered, whether by chance or by design.

The tiny crinkles around her eyes when she laughed. Her pale, soft skin that was such a contrast to her fiery red hair and dazzling green eyes. It made her look so delicate, so fragile when, in fact, she could be a lion ess if the need arose. Her employees adored her, yet Maggie could with a single word or look put an errant one on his or her toes. All who knew her respected her resilience and determination. Yet there was a compa.s.sion for others glowing inside her that easily matched the pa.s.sion with which she lived. And she loved him so completely. How was that possible?

His chest tightened. Her smile, wide and uninhibited, enthralled even him. He liked her smile, missed it when they were apart. That confession rattled him. How had this happened? He had been taught from birth not to feel any sort of weak emotion. He'd never loved anyone. Maybe his sister, though he wasn't sure. He certainly felt protective of Alayna. Long ago he had stopped missing her in his life. It wasn't safe to have any kind of contact with her, though she always knew how to reach him. Before he left they had made a pact to come to each other's aid whenever and wherever necessary. But was that love? Maybe on some level.

Slade stiffened his spine. What he felt for Maggie was similar. He had grown accustomed to her presence in his life. Certain things about her had become undeniably familiar and comfortable. He'd been too human, too weak to resist them, and that had been a mistake. He had put her in danger by allowing this attachment.

It was best to sever that connection. Now. She would recover and forget about him in time.

The sharp stab of pain that pierced his chest forced the air from his lungs. He stood and forced his attention away from her. If he left while she slept she couldn't attempt to dissuade him. Besides, he had several hours of hard driving between him and his destination. Arriving in darkness would serve his ultimate purpose.

As if he hadn't already done so, he checked the three windows in the flat to ensure they were secure. There was only one door; he would lock that on his way out. Slade counted out a sufficient amount of cash, some U.S. dollars, some pesos, and tucked the folded bills into Maggie's shoe. Everything she needed in the way of food supplies was here. The idea of leaving her unarmed was less than appealing, but if she couldn't use it, a weapon in her hand was more dangerous than being unarmed. In the time that he had known her she appeared to abhor guns. Anyway, both Lavena and Ramondo were armed.