Midnight Alias: A Killer Instincts Novel (42 page)

“Now we talk,” Vince said pleasantly, bending down to remove her gag.

“Don’t do this,” she croaked once she was able to speak.

“You’re in no position to give me orders!” he roared. “You screwed another man! You’ve probably screwed
hundreds
of men during this past year, you little whore.”

“That’s not true,” she protested. “I—”

He sprang at her and crammed the gag back into her mouth. His entire body vibrated, shuddering with icy wrath. “Talking was a bad idea. I can’t listen to your fucking voice feeding me any more fucking lies.”

Strands of defeat curled around her spine. Now what? If she couldn’t keep him talking, what chance did she have? How the hell was she going to save herself?

“You think I’m not good enough for you, is that it?” His brown eyes bored into hers, bitterness dripping from his harsh voice. “Well, what makes you so much better than me? Your father was a weak loser masquerading as a hero. Your mother’s had one foot in the grave her entire life. And
you
? Who the hell are you? What makes you better than me? Your looks? This city’s full of pretty pussy! Your brains? Because as I recall, you were a high school dropout.”

His chest heaved as the words poured out of his mouth like gushing water bursting through a dam. In that moment, Olivia realized just how deep Vince Angelo’s insecurities ran, how skewed he’d become from what he believed to be a cruel upbringing. Yeah,
so
cruel—two parents who loved him but hadn’t been able to buy him a bunch of meaningless material things.

She suddenly faltered, realizing she wasn’t exactly one to talk. Hadn’t she allowed her own upbringing to do the same thing to her? Skew her outlook, send her running away from any man who reminded her even the slightest of her father? Look what
she’d
been doing—keeping a wonderful man at arm’s length, insisting that he was temporary, a speed bump on the road to the kind of relationship she’d always thought she wanted.

But Luke wasn’t a speed bump. He was . . . God, he was the freaking
destination
.

Why hadn’t she seen that?

And why was she only realizing it now, when she was tied to a bed while a seriously messed-up psycho with a gun loomed over her?

“You make me sick,” Vince hissed.

Olivia squeaked in terror as he launched himself at her, the mattress creaking like a haunted-house prop as he straddled her with his strong thighs. She closed her eyes, prepared for the worst, but to her shock, she felt his hands on her face. He cupped her jaw, digging his thumbs into her cheeks, his dark eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and despair.

“Why did you have to do this?” he moaned. “Why, damn it? What the
fuck
did I do wrong, Olivia? I saved you from that motherfucker in the alley! I took care of your debts! I bought you things to show you how much I loved you! I bought you
this
, for fuck’s sake!”

He tore the silver chain from her neck and held up the little cross as if that alone was the symbol of their love.

The cross!

Vince was right—the necklace
was
important. She might have left her phone behind at the hospital, but not the necklace. Which meant that at this very moment, she was broadcasting loud and clear, relaying a signal that Luke could use to find her.

On top of her, Vince was in tears now. The moisture shining in his eyes made her jerk in surprise, but nothing was more shocking than the way he dipped his head to brush his lips over hers. “You’re right,” he choked out, his breath fanning over her mouth. “Maybe we can try again.”

What?

“I’m a fool, aren’t I?” His gaze searched her face, anxious, desperate. “I know I shouldn’t still love you, but I do. I love you, babe. I love you so much.”

She’d never been so confused in her life. Pity and disgust vied for her attention, but the disgust proved victorious when Vince started kissing her again. He was breathing hard, shaking from head to toe. His lips were cold and wet as he dragged them over every inch of her face. He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her eyelids, lavishing nausea-inducing tenderness upon her before moving his lips to her neck so he could kiss her there too.

She pushed aside her queasiness and attempted to find a way to use his unexpected change of heart to her advantage. She was back to toying with the idea of convincing him of her undying love when she saw a flash of movement in the doorway.

Luke!

Olivia nearly cried out in joy when she spotted the familiar dark hair and rugged features, but Luke quickly lifted his finger to his lips to silence her. She went motionless, meeting his gorgeous chocolate brown eyes as Vince continued to bestow gentle kisses on her.

Shoot him, damn it!
She silently pleaded for Luke to act, but he remained in the doorway, gun in hand, a tormented expression creasing his handsome face. It occurred to her that he
couldn’t
take a shot. The way Vince was leaning on her, any bullet that hit him might hit her too.

She forced herself to stay still and trust Luke, but then Vince lifted his head—and he must have noticed her looking beyond him because he whirled around and released an enraged growl.

“You!” Voice ringing with accusation, he flung his arm toward the gun he’d left next to Olivia’s hip.

“Me,” Luke confirmed.

And then he shot Vince in the head.

Olivia screamed into the gag as blood sprayed her face, as Vince’s body toppled to the floor with a thud. Shock and horror sent her mind spinning, had her gasping for air and jerking on the mattress even as Luke hurried toward her and removed the gag.

“Olivia.
Olivia
.”

He rapidly undid her bindings and yanked her against him, his strong arms holding her tight. Her pulse shrieked in her ears, pounding in her blood. She buried her face against his muscled chest and struggled for breath, shaking so hard she feared her bones might snap like twigs.

“Look at me, darlin’,” he said urgently. His hands tangled in her hair, tilting her head up. “It’s okay. You’re okay.
Look at me
, Olivia.”

She looked at him.

The second she registered his familiar dark eyes and the deep concern and sheer love glimmering in them, her body sagged and her heartbeat steadied. Luke’s presence grounded her, penetrating the haze of her mind and leaving her with a sense of pure, startling clarity.

“You all right?” he said gruffly.

She nodded, then uttered the first thing that came to mind. Make that the
only
thing that came to mind. It left her lips in a hurried rush, the words coming not from her mouth but straight from her heart.

“I love you.”

* * *

It was past midnight when Isabel finally heard a knock on the door. She’d been lying on her living room couch, exhausted as hell but unable to sleep a damn wink. With Olivia missing, everyone back at the safe house had been on edge, the tension running so high that Isabel had needed to get out of there. She’d come home to shower and change, even bringing her cell into the bathroom in case Trevor called, but there’d been no word from Luke or the others since they’d left Queens.

Shooting to her feet, she hurried to the front door and threw it open, relieved when she found Trevor standing in the hall. She met his whiskey-colored eyes, fearful of what she’d find, but to her relief, his expression revealed the answer she’d been hoping for.

“Olivia’s safe,” he said. “Luke found her.”

Isabel let out a breath. “Thank God.” She gestured for him to come inside, then locked the door and led him into the living room. “And Angelo?” she asked when he didn’t elaborate.

“Dead.”

She nodded. The DEA wouldn’t like that—Angelo could’ve been their ticket to nabbing De Luca—but Isabel couldn’t say she was torn up about it. From the moment she’d met Vince Angelo, she’d disliked the man.

“Luke and Olivia went to the hospital to be with Kathleen,” Trevor added.

He removed his coat and draped it over the arm of the sofa, then sank down in one weary motion, looking as exhausted as Isabel felt.

After a beat of hesitation, she sat down next to him and drew her knees up to her chest. “What about Adam?”

“Also dead.” The emotion he hadn’t expressed about Angelo’s death made an appearance now. “He was a good man. A good soldier.”

“You’re all good men. Every last one of you.”

Trevor blinked in surprise, then recovered, resting his hands in his lap. “So, the job’s over.”

“It’s over,” she agreed. “What ended up happening with the DEA?”

“Well, Dane’s in federal custody, and he’s going to be charged with a whole bunch of shit. Turns out Dane’s supervisor suspected all along that his man had been playing both sides. And the Moreno rep, Juan Ortiz, he started singing like a canary once he realized what kind of shit he’s in. He’s spilling everything he knows about Dane, probably in hopes of cutting a deal.”

“He’ll cut a deal, all right,” Isabel said dryly. “But not for info on Dane. Trust me, Ortiz will sell out the cartel in a heartbeat. If he’s extradited to Colombia he’ll be killed in prison, which means his only hope of staying alive is to get immunity from our government, or at the very least, a prison sentence here.”

“You’re probably right about that.”

She leaned her head back against the cushions. “So what’d Ortiz say about Dane?”

“Dane was working with Moreno for years, feeding the DEA bogus intel and pocketing cash as an informant for the cartel. When he was recalled to the States and assigned to the De Luca case, he decided to bank an even bigger profit by hooking up the two crime syndicates and taking not only a brokerage fee, but a percentage of the drug money. He already had a whole new identity lined up—he’s been using the name Erik Franz, and according to Ortiz, Dane was supposed to head back to Colombia tomorrow morning. He was going to work for the Moreno cartel full-time.”

“What was the deal with the guy you found in the warehouse last week? They tattooed the name
Mandy
on his butt to try to pass him off as Dane? Do we know who he was?”

“His DNA was flagged in the system. Low-life drug dealer from Brooklyn who had the misfortune of bearing a slight resemblance to Carter Dane.”

She wrinkled her forehead. “But Dane’s a federal agent. He would’ve known that his supervisors would run a DNA test.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t care. I think the body was meant to be a distraction for the Feds. Angelo and Dane wanted to keep the DEA busy while they brought in the heroin shipment right under their noses—”

Isabel finished his sentence. “And by the time the DEA figured out the body didn’t belong to their agent, that agent would be on a plane to Colombia and living under a new name.” She smiled wryly. “So I’m assuming there never was a mole within the agency.”

“I doubt it,” Trevor replied. “I bet Dane only insinuated that during his last check-in so his supervisors wouldn’t send in more agents once he went AWOL.”

She laughed. “No, they just sent you guys instead.”

Trevor fell quiet, unlacing his fingers and resting his palms on his muscular thighs. After a moment, he shot her a sidelong look and said, “So . . . what are your plans now?”

“I’m taking Heaven Monroe to rehab in the morning.”

“And after that?”

“I . . .” She swallowed. “I thought maybe we’d go out to dinner.”

He looked surprised again, and she didn’t quite blame him, seeing as she’d tried so hard to distance herself from him over the past couple of weeks. She hadn’t been able to help it, though. He always left her feeling so damn unsettled, and not just because of the attraction brewing between them. Now that he had let go of his grief over his fiancée’s death, he was showing Isabel a different side of himself. He radiated strength and warmth, subtle sensuality and quiet power. Truth was, she’d never been able to relax around a man the way she could with Trevor, which was scary as hell, and the reason she’d been holding back for so long.

But tonight something had scared her even worse.

She’d glimpsed Luke’s face earlier when he realized Olivia was gone. His eyes had showed such panic, such love, that she’d been absolutely floored. Seeing Luke so distraught and determined to rescue the woman he loved had made Isabel long for . . . for something. Something more. Just once, she wanted someone to feel that way about her. She wanted someone to look at her and see
her
, not the mask she wore, not the disguises she put on.

And Trevor Callaghan did. He
saw
her.

“Dinner,” he echoed, his voice laced with bewilderment.

“Unless you don’t want to,” she said quickly.

“I want to,” he said, just as quick.

She smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then he slid across the couch, grasped her chin with one hand, and bent down to kiss her.

Isabel gasped against his lips, then relaxed as a rush of heat filled her belly. Trevor coaxed her mouth open and nudged his tongue inside, his hands cupping the back of her head so he could drive the kiss deeper. The scent of his aftershave, the firmness of his lips, the wicked thrust of his tongue . . . it all teased her senses, making her breathless, mindless. Her fingers trembled as she dug them into his shoulders to pull him closer, taking the kiss to a whole new level, one that made them both groan.

When they finally broke apart, she felt dazed, dizzy. His magnetic brown eyes were hot and sultry, his fingertips utterly seductive as they traced the curve of her jaw.

“Now what?” she whispered.

“Now we go to bed.”

Her head jerked. “We do?”

“To sleep,” he corrected, a smile playing on his lips. “We’re both exhausted, and frankly, I’m terrified that if I push you for anything else right now, all the progress we’ve made will be lost.” Still smiling, Trevor rose and extended a hand to her. “What do you say, Isabel? Will you let me sleep next to you tonight?”

She reached for his hand and said, “Yes.”

Chapter 26

Isabel woke up with a smile on her face. Weird, that spending the night with a man could bring this huge Cheshire grin to her mouth, especially when sex hadn’t played a part in it. Trevor had been right, though—she wasn’t ready for that. Her feelings for him were confusing enough as it was; adding intimacy to the mix was likely to confuse her even more.