Reckless Assignation (4 page)

“You’re not serious?” she asked, expression wary. “This
place has been dead for decades and you want me to use the water here?”

Rick eyed her and laughed. “The contractors were here days
ago, Cyndi,” he informed her, tone dry and amused. “The water is perfectly safe
to drink or bathe in.” He turned, saw the tub was full, and he held out his
hand, watching with appreciation as she stepped into the foamy warmth. He
joined her and they settled at either end to stare at each other with matching
expressions of bliss.

“We forgot the champagne!” she said.

Cinthya started to object when he rose and stepped out of
the tub, but he cut her off with a firm kiss. She laughed as she watched him
walk back into the room, bubbles clinging to his back and sliding down over his
butt. He was back in seconds, fresh glasses of sparkling champagne in hand. He
passed one to her and climbed back into the tub.

“Happy Halloween, honey,” Rick said. “This really is so much
nicer than ‘scary shit’, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yeah, but I could do without the bondage bit,” she tossed
back with a grin.

“Maybe you could,” he teased, “but I wouldn’t have missed it
for anything!”

“You’re sick, Rick.”

“But you love me.”

“But I love you.”

Rick finished the glass of champagne in a long swallow and
smiled at her. “I’m tired, honey. I think I’m going back to bed. You coming, or
do you want to stay here for a while?”

Cinthya nestled deeper into the warm water and shook her
head. “I’m gonna soak for about an hour. This feels wonderful. Almost as good
as you,” she added with a quirky smile.

He nodded, got up and reached for one of the plush black
bath towels he had placed in the room. He was conscious of her heated gaze
watching his every movement as he dried off and tossed the towel onto the
vanity. The fire in her eyes when he glanced down at her almost made him haul
her out of the tub, but he figured it could wait until later. He bent to kiss
her, completely unsurprised by the hunger he felt in the caress as her tongue
invaded his mouth to probe deeply. “I’ll be in bed when you’re ready, Cindi,”
he whispered.

“Rick?”

He was almost out of the room and paused to look back.

“Where’d you get the idea for this?”

“Why?” He leaned on the doorframe, smiling.

Cinthya peered at him, then shrugged. “I just had the
feeling there was something familiar about the whole setup.”

“Did you?” His laughter was genuine and he shook his head as
he tried to stop chuckling in response to her annoyed glare.

“Well?”

“Your old man would shoot me if he heard this conversation,”
Rick said, relenting. “He did something a little bit like this to your mother,
a
lot
of years ago. Since I can’t imagine he’d ever tell you about it,
my best guess is you heard them talking at some point.”

“Maybe that’s why she divorced him.”

The effect of her glower was lost on him—he merely grinned,
then continued out of the room.

Chapter Four

Rick hadn’t been in bed long when he felt the breathy
whisper of a caress along his spine. He smiled into his pillow and waited to
see how adventurous Cindi was willing to get. He was fully expecting her to
make an attempt at retaliation for the handcuffs and the incident in the chair.
The silk sheets rustled at his waist and he shivered as another cool breath touched
the curving hollow there. The soft whisper of touch continued, swirling
tantalizing, teasing touches across his back before moving lower.

He turned his head to look at her and was startled into
complete awareness when he discovered she wasn’t in the room with him. He heard
the soft sounds of water from the bathroom and realized Cindi was still in the
tub. He looked around the room, shivering slightly. It was exactly as it had
been all night. He shrugged it off as a trick of the wind. These old buildings were
filled with weird drafts and odd noises—his precise reason for picking the
place when he first planned this little rendezvous. It had atmosphere.

The second time a touch stirred him from his light sleep, he
felt the solid weight of his lover beside him and turned into her arms. His
mouth found the lips that were seeking his and he sighed into the caress as she
arched into him, molding their bodies together. When the kiss ended long
minutes later, he rolled onto his back and she snuggled into his neck, one arm
draped lazily across his waist.

Rick was almost asleep again when he felt her stir, then
rise. Then he heard the creak of the door swinging inward on rusted hinges. He
opened his eyes just in time to see the grin spreading over Cindi’s face.

“Hey, that’s cool,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “I thought
you said you didn’t like dry ice.”

Rick followed her line of vision and saw what had put the
animation in her expression. A fog-like mist curled around the floor, swirling
in a faint breeze that was making the candles sputter. His eyes opened a little
wider and he sat up, taking her with him. A shiver of uneasiness worked its way
up his spine. He turned serious eyes to her.

“I didn’t have anything to do with this,” he told her.

She snorted in disbelief. “Yeah, right.” She pulled up the
covers and started to settle into the bed. Rick yanked the sheets back and
stared at her.

“
I
didn’t do this, Cinthya. Do you smell dry ice?”

Cindi sniffed the air then looked closely at Rick’s still
features.

“This place is supposed to be haunted,” she murmured.

Rick watched her gaze dart back to the shifting fog that was
growing thicker. There was a distinct chill in the room now, something that
hadn’t been noticeable just minutes earlier.

“You don’t really think…?”

“Can’t be,” Rick agreed, pretending he didn’t feel his own
twitch of fright at the strangeness. He looked into her huge eyes for several
seconds, then they nodded in unison. “Time to go home. C’mon, honey.”

He was already reaching for his clothes when he realized she
wasn’t moving.

“In case you’ve forgotten, Rick,
my
clothes are still
in the other room you dragged me into,” she reminded him. “And I’m sure as hell
not walking out of here completely naked.”

“Wait here, I’ll go get them.” He made a second attempt to
pick up his own things. Her arm jerked him back before he could scoop up the
discarded pile of clothes.

“You’re not leaving me here with
that
!” she snapped,
eyeing the mist with growing suspicion.

He actually managed to laugh at the declaration and she glared
at him. He shivered when he reached down for his pants and the foggy mist
closed around his hand and wrist. The touch was cool and cloying, creating a
tiny shudder of revulsion in him even though he didn’t really believe it was
more than some kind of elaborate illusion
. Probably the idiots I hired to
set this up in the first place
, he bitched silently. However, that thought
didn’t keep him from donning his clothes, the weapons he was never without, and
tossing her his jacket and shirt.

“Get up, honey, we’re leaving,” he stated firmly. “We’ll
stop for your clothes on the way out.” He ignored the furious look she fixed
him with and pulled his .45 from the drawer in the bedstand. The cleanup team
would take care of the rest of the stuff.

When she hadn’t moved off the bed and continued to eye the
thickening fog with open dread, Rick leaned over and kissed her. He checked his
backup gun, a small Derringer, pulled on his shirt when she handed it to him,
then headed out.

* * * * *

Rick heard Cindi’s scream of terror the instant he entered
the room he’d dragged her into early in the evening. He didn’t bother grabbing
her clothes, he simply turned and hit the hallway at a run, just in time to see
Cindi stagger as she was pushed back into their party room. Rick slammed into
the door with his shoulder, throwing a second assailant into the room crashing
over furniture.

Without a second glance in that direction, Rick reached for
the first man, who was readying a second strike at Cindi, who was bleeding.
Rick stepped in front of her, using himself as a shield. Cindi slumped
backward, met the wall and slid down to the floor. She moved her hand over the
wound and gagged.

A flip of his wrist relieved Cindi’s attacker of control of
the weapon as Rick intercepted the slashing hand and caught the man’s wrist in
a bone-breaking grip. Using the momentum of the swing, Rick redirected the
blade as he grabbed a handful of hair and pulled forward.

He felt the razor-edged steel slide under the attacker’s
chin, penetrate through vulnerable flesh and come to an abrupt halt when the
hilt met the torn throat. The tip of the knife grazed his fingertips. The long
blade had pierced the back of the dying man’s neck and Rick yanked the knife
free with a jerk as he let the body fall.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the second attacker
stumbling to his feet. Rick closed the distance.

The second assailant had barely regained his footing when
Rick struck him again, slamming the heel of his hand against the man’s face.
Rick heard the distinct crack of bones followed by an agonized wail. Ignoring
both, he pulled the crumpled figure erect and launched him backward against the
wall, indifferent to the red smear that stained the ruined face.

“Who sent you?” he growled, bringing the knife up to hover
menacingly close to the other man’s terrified eyes. When a frenzied shake of
his head was the only response, Rick smiled with pure malevolent iciness. “One
more chance,” he offered, his tone as lethal as the circling blade.

He lowered the knife, deliberately bringing the tip to rest
in the hollow of his victim’s throat and pressing hard enough to puncture skin.
As a tiny drop of blood welled up around the small wound, Rick allowed the
blade to inch down while he continued to hold the fear-filled stare. He could
see the man’s mind working, weighing the terror he was facing against the one
waiting at the end of this failed mission.

Rick knew the outcome of that debate before the attacker did
and was prepared when the man bolted. The blood-soaked knife dipped downward
and rose again, sliding beneath the sternum to pierce the heart. A warm gush of
blood over his hand made the weapon slippery. This time he released the handle
of the knife and let it stay with the body, which sagged to the floor with a
dull, liquid
thump
.

Rick closed his eyes and dragged in several gasping breaths
until the pounding in his ears dimmed to a faint roar. A moment later, he
glanced around the death-filled silence and spotted the shock-dazed figure he’d
almost forgotten for several minutes.

“Cindi.” He was kneeling beside her in an instant. “How bad
is it?”

When Cindi’s gaze strayed to the bodies sprawled on the
floor, her already ashen features grayed further. Watching the shifting
expression, Rick started to turn Cindi’s face toward him, then stopped when he
realized his own hands were covered with blood.

“Don’t look at them!” he snapped, the command effectively
bringing the wide eyes back to focus on him. When he was sure he had Cindi’s
attention, he spoke again, this time the tone gentle. “We’re gonna stand up
now, Cindi. It’ll probably hurt like hell, so lean on me, okay?”

At Cindi’s slow nod, Rick bent and carefully gathered her up
and lifted.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Cindi groaned.

I’ll bet you are
, Rick conceded silently. “Hang on,
baby,” he encouraged as he took a few shaky steps.

He made it fewer than six feet along the corridor when his
past reached out and caught them at last.

Pain exploded in his skull, a spray of falling stars blinded
him, then blackness descended. His last awareness was of Cindi shrieking his
name.

Chapter Five

The world came back into focus slowly and Rick’s headache
pulsed like a jackhammer behind his eyes when he saw a familiar figure across
the room. Suddenly everything made sense. Leeza Villeman, a woman he had once
used badly in the name of the job. She’d sworn vengeance almost a decade ago.

“Where is she, Leeza?”

“She’s waiting for you to save her, Rick,” she said, a smile
passing like a ghost across her face. She shifted to the left, leading him with
her gaze to the monitor she had been hiding.

It took all his self-control not to react to the image that
flickered before him in neutral tones on the monitor. The surveillance camera
must be at ceiling level. It looked down into the bed he’d shared with Cindi
such a short time ago, focusing on the stripped mattress. Cindi lay very still,
one arm draped over the side of bed. She wasn’t moving, even her breathing was
imperceptible. For one terrible, eternal second Rick thought she was already
dead. Then she shifted slightly and a low moan slipped from her. She didn’t
move again.

Rick knew better than to give their captor the satisfaction
of pleading for Cindi’s life, but his heart put the words in his throat and he
couldn’t resist them. “If it is my life you want, then let her go. Enough
innocents have died in this useless game.”

“You used me, Richard, over and over. Then you killed my
son,” she said, and it was startling to hear the words slip so easily from her.
“Don’t you think there should be some sort of retribution?”

“Then take your retribution,” he countered, spreading his
hands out in a gesture of surrender. “But take it from me, not an innocent
girl.”

“That doesn’t seem a balanced equation.” She slid back into
position, again blocking the screen.

She was enjoying this, Rick thought with a flare of anger
that he forced into submission. If he allowed any of his fear or pain to show
in his face, she would feed off it like a parasite. He wouldn’t give her that
pleasure. He waited for her to continue.

“You killed my son. I’ll kill the only person I have ever
known you to really love. How ironic she’s the age of my Kurt. Then we are
even. Don’t you agree?”

“Except that I didn’t kill your son,” Rick offered softly.

That caught her attention. For a moment she wavered and
genuine indecision flickered through her eyes.

“Perhaps it was not your gun,” she conceded, reining in her
temporary confusion, “but it was your operation. You were in charge. You are
liable for anything that happened during the mission. Do you deny that?”

The anger was the first honest emotion he had seen in her
eyes. It suggested a loss of control Rick would not let pass.

“You never read the report, did you?” he pressed. “You never
even read your own people’s version of the report.” He waited. “Did you?”

“I saw my son’s body!” Her voice rose almost to a shout. “I
did not need a report to see my dead child!”

“Kurt was killed by one of your own agents. He tried to help
one of the other students who was wounded and one of your people shot him. He
died trying to save another life, but it was neither my hand nor my mission
that killed him. It was your own people’s lack of concern for innocent
bystanders.”

Her face grew scarlet, suffused with rage. When her words
came, she was almost whispering. “The little bastard should have stayed in
Berlin. I told him to stay there.”

Rick watched, chilled by the strange, distorted smile that
came over her face. Confusion flickered in his mind, he had no idea who she was
talking about. Well, she’d enlighten him or she wouldn’t.

“Your lover is very much like my son was, Rick. Did you
realize that?”

She stepped away from the table, turning to stare into the
screen. For a moment, she watched the still figure on the cot, then spun around
on one heel, taking a single step closer to Rick.

“I have been watching you both for the past couple of years,
Rick.” Her mouth twisted as if undecided on its next expression. “She’s very
much like Kurt. Idealistic. Naïve. You know what it’s like trying to keep them
safe. We work so hard just to keep them safe and they fight us. Always, they
fight us.”

She walked across the room at an angle from him, the
severely straight skirt frustrating her usual long stride. At a dust-covered
desk, she halted, speaking again as if there hadn’t been a pause. “No matter
what you do for them, they don’t appreciate it. Cindi accuses you of
restricting her freedom, doesn’t she?” She looked up at him, waiting for an
answer.

Rick knew he was treading dangerous ground, but he hardly
imagined things could get much worse. “She used to. Now she tries to
understand.”

The dark anger flashed again. “She accuses you! Just like
Kurt did. He never understood that I did everything for him. Never! He thought
the world was worth saving, and he died before I could convince him otherwise.”

“Then perhaps he was better off,” Rick said into her
madness, knowing he would only enrage her but not caring now. Her insanity had
put the only real love in his life in danger, and Rick was well beyond even a
second of compassion for her. That she had ghosted after them for months on end
woke his own fury, along with the metallic taste of fear. She might know the
effort of keeping a child safe, but she so very clearly did not know the joy of
really loving someone. When she stared speechlessly at him, he explained, “He
died before you were able to destroy him with your own twisted version of the
world, before you could contaminate him with your hate. He was better off.”

“How would you know?” she said through clenched teeth. “You
never stopped long enough to care about anyone. I loved my son, I taught him,
protected him.”

“You taught him only hatred.” Rick’s anger nearly matched
hers now as his attention veered back to the monitor.

“I could kill you now! Here!” Leeza took one shaky step
toward Rick, leaning into the action, giving every appearance of a viper poised
to strike.

Rick smiled up at her and took a gamble. He hadn’t been
searched, he had the small Derringer strapped to the inside of his forearm, the
harness one he could trigger easily when he wanted the weapon to drop into his
hand. It was still in place, and gave him a small measure of hope that they’d
survive this incident. She appeared to be alone now that he’d killed the men
who’d gone after Cindi.

“If you kill me now, you gain nothing, Zia,” he said softly,
using the nickname he’d last used when they’d been lovers. “You’ve waited so
long. Your best revenge is down in that room. Are you going to waste it?”

Her eyes followed his to the monitor where Cindi lay pale
and still on the bed, the unwilling instrument of Leeza’s vendetta. She drew in
a long, quivering breath and Rick watched the thin veneer of control slip back
over her face.

When she spoke, her voice was once again icy calm. “It is
not over this soon, Rick. The game must be played out. You will not cheat me
again.”

He breathed in relief. All he needed to win this game was to
get close enough to Cindi to free her.

* * * * *

Cindi was on her knees on the bed, her hands tied at her
back. Her head was held slightly back by a tight grip on her hair, giving Rick
a clear view of the thin wire that encircled her throat. Rick’s gaze followed
the path of the noose, which ran from the back of Cindi’s neck to a second loop
that bound her ankles. At best, Cindi appeared to be only semiconscious, the little
awareness she could summon focused on remaining motionless. All it would take
was a slight push from Leeza’s hand to upset the precarious balance—effectively
slitting Cindi’s throat before he could react quickly enough to prevent it. The
image came of its own accord―as though she were a rabbit in a snare.

“Really, Rick,” Leeza said around a dark smile, “your little
act is wearing thin.”

“Your revenge won’t be served by Cindi’s death. It’s a game
that you and I played, Leeza. Let her go and I’m yours. That’s really what
you’ve wanted all along, isn’t it?”

Her expression shifted, becoming almost coquettish. “I can
have both. You see, that’s what I nearly missed when this thing started. I was
simply going to kill you, but you’ve made it so much more interesting now. I
owe you and her father, and taking her with me will teach you both what pain is
all about. What you put me through when you killed my son!”

Rick watched the demented hate in her eyes, shivering at the
depth of her insanity. He inched forward another half step, but she noticed
this time.

“I’ll kill her now,” she warned, fisting her hand tighter
into Cindi’s hair.

Cindi’s tiny whimper of terrified pain triggered the
response, and Rick snapped his wrist, letting the Derringer drop into his palm
as he lifted his arm and fired, knowing this was as close as he was going to
get. Only later did he recall the choked “No!” from Cindi. His efforts were
concentrated on catching Cindi in a life-saving embrace as she toppled forward
and Leeza sprawled backward onto the bed, then sagged to the old hardwood
floor. Bracing Cindi’s head against his chest, Rick slipped the wires free,
then untied the rope that held her hands.

When she was untied, he sat back and gathered her close
while she cried in choked sobs.

After a few minutes, Cindi shifted in Rick’s arms and she
whispered hoarsely, “Are you okay?”

Rick let his gaze stray to the woman he had known with
reluctant intimacy. He felt nothing for her, no regret. The choice had been
simple, for once black-and-white. He looked back at Cindi.

“More than okay, sweetheart,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry.
This is what I fear all the time, that my past will get you killed. It almost
did tonight.”

He scooped her up and carried her out of the room the same
way he’d brought her in. They were out of the hotel less than ten minutes
later, both breathing easier when they were inside Rick’s Jaguar and heading
for their apartment.

“I’ll get the doctor over as soon as we’re home.”

“It’s really not bad, Rick.”

Rick didn’t bother commenting, and Cindi sighed as they
drove away from the ancient hotel. Halloween fun had turned deadly and
horrifying. Maybe it was time to retire for real, he thought darkly.

* * * * *

Two hours after they left the hotel, Rick was putting her
carefully into bed. Cindi grabbed his hand when he would have left the room.

“Stay, Rick. We need to talk.”

He looked down at her for a moment, undecided, then nodded
and sat next to her, holding her hand clasped between his.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he murmured. “There’s so much in my
life that puts you at risk every day. It’s not fair to you.”

She shook her head and lifted their hands so she could kiss
his before she answered. “Rick, every day I live in ways that make me happier
than I ever thought possible. Because of you. I know the risks, and I wouldn’t
change
us
for anything.”

“She almost killed you!”

“Almost, sweetheart,” she said. “She was crazy, wasn’t she?”
The words whispered between them. “And not in a good way.”

“She’s one of many, Cindi,” he replied with a sigh. “There’s
so much you don’t know about me. About what I was for so long.”

Cinthya stared at him for a long time, memorizing the sharp
lines of his face, holding on to the image as if it were a lifeline. “Come to
bed, Rick. Please.”

Minutes later he settled next to her and drew her into his
arms. She snuggled close.

“How does this feel?” he asked, his fingers brushing lightly
over the bandage just above her waist.

“Doesn’t hurt, the painkillers have kicked in. Besides, it
wasn’t as bad as it looked, you know that.”

“She’s not the only one out there with a grudge, honey.”

“I know, Rick. It’s okay, really. I know you and my dad
think of me as a kid, but I
do
understand what being with you means. The
good and the bad. I made my choice, stop trying to make me change my mind.”

He kissed her, the caress slow, deep and loving. When she
drew back, she grinned up at him. “I have a question.”

His eyebrow shot up and he eyed her. “And that would be?”

“The Mayfair’s been deserted for about a thousand years or
so.” She laughed when his eyes rolled, then continued, “How in hell did we have
a hot bath in the place?”

He laughed until they both shook, then kissed her again
before he answered. “That was one of the trickier parts of the whole thing. I
had to pay big bucks to have the plumbing fixed.”

She frowned. “Why would you be allowed to do that?”

“I bought the place, honey. It was the only way.”

She laughed until she was gasping. “When you plan a
surprise, you don’t spare the expense, do you?”

He shrugged. “Maybe we’ll renovate and I can retire and be
an innkeeper?”

“What about the ghosts?” Silence for several minutes, and
she finally dared to look him in the eye. “You’re not telling me I’m crazy.
Why?”

He didn’t flinch or laugh at her. “Something lives in that
hotel,” he admitted with care. “And whatever it is,” a pause, “
whoever
it is…they held you in those seconds it took for me to reach you. You should
have had your throat at least partly cut. There’s not a mark on you.”

“I wondered if you’d realize that,” she murmured. “It was
like someone was holding my arms for a second, keeping me suspended until you
reached me.”

He nodded. “Maybe we’ll be able to do something for them
someday. Find out what really happened and let them rest in peace at last.”