Chill (21 page)

Isabella leaned her head against Luke’s chest as he carried her into their new hotel room. It was almost twenty minutes from the one Leon had tracked them to, and Luke had made certain this one wasn’t traceable.

“Hey, baby, we’re here.” Luke set her on the bed, then dropped their bags on the floor. He’d carried them all at the same time, refusing to leave her alone to go back to the car.

Isabella wearily rolled onto her side to watch him as he checked the room and set up safeguards on the doors and windows. He kept looking over at her, and there was such worry on his face.

And guilt. So much guilt.

She knew about that emotion. How many years had she tortured herself for not knowing the right words when her mom had called her? The words that would have kept her mother at home that night, that would have kept her alive.

“Let me get you some ice.” Luke dumped the bucket of ice he’d retrieved on the way up into the sink, and then wrapped a handful of it in a towel.

He eased onto the bed next to her. He helped her adjust so she was using his thigh as a pillow. He lightly
set the ice on her cheek and stroked her hair. She closed her eyes at the tender touch.

“Luke.”

“Yeah.”

“What happened? Did you find the earrings?”

“Yeah.” He nodded at his bag. “They’re in a baseball that was in Marcus’s bedroom.”

She tensed. “Is he okay?” She could barely bring herself to ask, so afraid of the answer.

Luke said nothing.

She pulled the ice pack off her face and sat up. “What happened?”

A veil dropped over his face, and she knew he wasn’t going to tell her.

“Luke!”

“I didn’t touch him. He’s fine.”

She knew there was more he wasn’t telling her, but the way he bit out the words told her what he said was the truth.

Luke hadn’t betrayed her.

From the tension on his face and in his jaw, she knew how hard it had been to walk away. And she knew he’d done it for her. Her throat tightened. He’d spent a lifetime hating his father, and yet for her, he’d left him alone. She leaned over and pressed her lips lightly to his. “Thank you, for leaving him alive.”
For being the man I believed you were.

He said nothing, but his eyes were dark and stormy as he searched her face. He kept stroking her hair, his fingers tangling in her curls. So much intensity in his face. So much complexity. So much hurt.

So much strength.

Something welled deep in her heart, and she knew she had no more defenses against him. His leaving
Marcus alive had broken through the last barriers she had around her heart. “My dear Luke.” She placed her hands on either side of his anguished face, needing to take away his guilt over the fact that she’d gotten attacked. “You are an amazing man. You make me feel safe. You give me a place I’ve never had before.”

He caught her wrists and held tightly, searching her face. “I fucked up.” His voice was anguished. “I should have realized Leon would find us—”

“No.” She placed her hands over his lips. “You need to stop. You need to forgive yourself.”

“Jesus, Isa.” He caught her shoulders. “When I saw you on that bed with all that blood? It was my mother and then Anna and—”

“I love you.”

He stiffened. “No!”

“Yes!” She straddled his lap and leaned close to him. “Don’t you get it? You can’t keep the world out, and you can’t protect us all by keeping us away. I love you, and you’re a good man. I loved my mother despite her past, I love Marcus no matter what he’s done, and I love you. Because all of you have good souls and are worth loving.”

He searched her face, and she saw his disbelief, his struggle. “I—”

She kissed him.

For a split second, he tensed, and she had a sinking feeling he was going to push her away.

And then his arms snapped around her and he yanked her against him. He took over the kiss. Turned it from a gentle kiss designed to convince him she loved him to a kiss of raw need, of raw passion, of such burning force that heat seared through her.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Kiss me.”

“Isa.” He growled her name, a fierce possession that made chills rush down her spine. He grabbed her shirt and ripped it over her head. His mouth was frantic on her skin, his hands desperate as he nearly tore her bra off. Then his shirt, his pants, hers, until they were skin to skin. His mouth never left her body, his hands never stopped touching her, as if he couldn’t get enough of her, no matter how hard he tried. Her throat, her collarbone, her breasts, her ribs, her hips, her legs, every inch of her was his, and he was taking her. His touch was firm, a statement of ownership, as if he needed to prove to himself that she was his, that he really could have her.

Isabella’s heart ached for his need, for his intensity. The man who had strived so hard to separate himself from friends and family, who had isolated himself for the protection of others…it had all been a lie, and his need for her was so evident in his kisses, in the way he whispered her name against her ear, in the way he buried his face in her hair. “God, Isa, I thought I’d lost you—”

“You can’t lose me,” she whispered. “I’m a survivor. Life can’t beat me.”

He paused to search her face. “You are a survivor, aren’t you?”

She smiled. “I am. You don’t need to worry about me. No matter how much you love me, it won’t kill me.”

He swore. “You have no idea what you’re facing.”

“Oh, but I do.” Isabella grabbed his hair and pulled him toward her. “I know exactly what I’m facing, and I know that with you by my side, we can do anything.”

He resisted her attempts to kiss him. “My life is hell—”

“It’s my life already. I got shot by Leon before I even met you.” She smiled. “All you can do is make me safer. I already get in enough danger on my own.” She lightly
pounded her fist on his chest. “Don’t you get it, Luke? I’m already involved with the demons who stalk you, and there’s no way I’m going to walk away, no matter how hard you try to make me. The danger I’m in is my choice, and has nothing to do with the fact that I love you.
It’s not your fault!
”

His eyes darkened with acceptance, with awe. “
Isa.
” He fisted her hair and kissed her.

A ruthless, demanding kiss. A kiss of such intensity and passion that she realized he’d been holding back before. Now there was nothing between them but their own need for each other. She clung to him, kissing him back as fiercely as he was kissing her. Needing him. Embracing him and all he was. She wanted more. Craved more. Couldn’t live without more. “Make love to me, Luke.” Not sex. Love.

Without breaking the kiss, he rolled her onto her back and moved between her legs. He plunged deep instantly, and she cried out at the sensation of him making her his. Of him moving deep inside her. Of their bodies intimately entwined. Ripples of fire raced through her body, and her heart ached with love, with passion, with everything she had ever wanted to feel for another human, but never had.

“God, Isa.” Luke caught her mouth in a heady kiss that shredded what little inhibition she still had, taking over her mind and body until she was consumed by him. By his kiss, by his hands, by his body protectively pinning her beneath him, by the sensation of his moving in and out of her, faster and faster, intensity growing and growing, until she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, just needed more and more and more—

The orgasm ripped through her like an explosion of heat and fire and scorching passion. Luke shuddered
above her, and then he was pounding deep, holding her so tightly against him she felt like no one would ever be able to rip her away from him. Again and again, and then he shouted her name and his body went rigid, his grip on her never relenting.

She clung to him as the orgasm rocked him, holding him tightly and supporting him while he surrendered himself to her. When he was spent, he simply dropped on top of her, and pressed his face to her neck. Not moving, not speaking. Just holding her tight, almost desperately.

Isabella wrapped her arms around his head and kissed his hair. The man who stood alone had completely capitulated to her. He’d let down his shields and let her in.

Tears filled her eyes at the gift he had given her.
I won’t let you regret it, Luke.

Without lifting his head from the curve of her neck, he laid his hand across her bruised cheek. He stroked lightly, and his muscles began to tense.

“Luke, don’t—”

“Don’t try to stop me, Isa. It has to be done.” His voice was cold, his fingers still methodically stroking her face, as if he were feeding his rage with her injury.

He was planning his revenge. He was planning his assault to take out the threat against her. It would destroy them both, on so many levels, but she knew he saw no other choice.

It was up to her to repay the gift he’d given her. To save him from the man he used to be.

She knew what she had to do.

Isabella waited until Luke was asleep. He was tucked up behind her, his arms and legs pulling her into the
protective shield of his body. His face was nestled in her hair, and he had her wrapped up so tightly she couldn’t tell where her body ended and his began.

She felt cherished, loved and protected. Everything she had ever wanted. And she knew it wasn’t conditional. Marcus had loved her because she had insinuated her way into his business. Her mother hadn’t loved her enough to stay alive. But Luke was willing to sell his soul to keep her, and his friends, safe. All she offered him was difficulty and stress, and yet he’d still given himself to her.

She’d done nothing to make Luke stay, and yet he was staying anyway. Just because of who she was. She treasured him for the gift he’d given her, and that was why she had to save him. But she knew he might hate her forever for what she was about to do. “I love you, Luke.”

His only response was the deep breathing of sleep.

Her heart aching with regret, Isabella tried to wiggle out of his embrace. He muttered something and tightened his grip on her. “I need to go to the bathroom,” she whispered. “I’ll be right back.” When he didn’t respond, she lightly tapped his arm. “I’ll be three feet away from you,” she whispered. “Let me up.”

This time, he loosened his grip enough for her to slip out. She paused to look at him once she was free. His face was tense even in sleep, and she had to resist the urge to smooth his brow. That wasn’t the way to give him true peace.

She forced herself to turn away. In the corner was her bag with the cell phone she’d retrieved from her old apartment. Padding silently across the carpet in her bare feet, Isabella grabbed her purse and took it into the bathroom. She shut the door and turned on the shower to drown out her voice.

The phone powered right up. There was one stored number—the one Marcus had programmed into it. “I hope you will forgive me, Luke,” she whispered.

And then she hit send.

No one answered, and she got a recording that her party was unavailable.

Marcus had always sworn he’d answer that phone. Something was wrong. Luke hadn’t lied about Marcus being okay, had he?

She dismissed the idea before it had time to take root. She believed Luke. She trusted him.

So she dialed again. Again, she got the recording.

A third time she tried.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings.

“Isa.” His voice was low, as if he were trying to keep himself from being overheard.

“Marcus!” She couldn’t keep the joy out of her voice. “You’re okay!”

“Why are you calling me?”

“I want to make a deal to get you free and to keep Luke safe.”

He sighed. “My dear sweet Isa, don’t get involved. I—”

“I have the earrings,” she interrupted. “And the necklace.”

She heard Marcus’s sharp intake of breath. “You really have the earrings?”

“Yes! Will that be enough to get Leon and Nate to let you go? To get them off Luke’s case?”

A long pause. “I think it might.”

She gripped the phone. “Tell me what to do. Tell me how to handle Leon.”

Marcus was silent for a long moment, and then he started giving her instructions.

Something was wrong.

Luke jerked awake. He grabbed his gun off the floor and jumped up.

No Leon.

What the fuck?

Then he saw the bed. Empty.

“Isa!” He vaulted over the bed to check the bathroom, but he knew what he’d find.

Empty.

“Isabella!” He bellowed her name, and the only answer was silence. “Fuck!” He bolted for the door, then noticed a paper with his name on it taped to the door.

Something froze deep inside him.

They had her.

He snatched the paper off the door and flipped it over. It took him a minute to realize what he was reading. It wasn’t from Leon. The curly, delicate script was from Isabella.

My dearest Luke,

Forgive me. I couldn’t let you destroy yourself or us. I am meeting with Marcus to give back the necklace and the earrings, and to negotiate your freedom. I love you. Isabella.

Luke crushed the note in his hand, a vise closing around his heart. He’d tried to protect her by not telling her the truth about Marcus, that he was clearly still running the operation. That he’d been using Isabella and had probably even given Leon the green light to hurt her.

And in return, she’d betrayed Luke on every level.

She’d put herself in danger. She’d stolen the earrings that had been his insurance policy for eight years. She’d stripped him of his leverage, and she’d dismissed all of his expertise on the situation and her safety.

He knew damn well Leon’s attack of Isabella had been to show him he could get to Isabella any time, any place, just as he had with Anna. It had been a warning not just to return the earrings, but to get back in the game. A statement that Adam Fie belonged to Marcus and his empire.

And now she’d gone and delivered herself into their hands.

Because she hadn’t trusted Luke. She hadn’t believed his analysis of the situation, had refused to trust his judgment on how to deal with it.

Isabella had chosen to align herself with Marcus instead of Luke.

A dark cloud wrapped around him, and he hurled the paper aside. He’d trusted her. He’d put himself out there, and she had walked away, taking everything he had.

Taking the earrings…

Jesus. Had she been in on the setup all along? Marcus had to have known Luke would never have turned the earrings over to him. That he would have jumped ship at the first hint he’d been found. But Isabella’s arrival had changed everything.

Isabella had gotten Luke to play ball.

And now, she’d taken the earrings and left him in the middle of the night.

An icy lethality gripped him. He stalked across the floor and grabbed his phone. He called Kaylie.

She answered on the first ring. “Cort’s dying.”

Luke closed his eyes. “He’s not dying,” he snapped. “Cort’s too tough to die.”

“He’s in a coma. He had a brain bleed from the surgery. He’s dying, Luke.” Sobs took over and she hung up the phone.

Luke shut his phone off and shoved it in his pocket.

He’d lost it all. By trying to be Luke Webber, he’d lost it all.

There was nothing left to lose.

Adam Fie began to assemble his weapons.

Isabella paused just down the block from Marcus’s house. There were two guards inside the front gate, dressed like doormen, but she recognized their stance and knew they were armed. Marcus had never employed guards. He didn’t trust strangers enough to bring them in to keep him safe. He built his own safeguards and developed his own inner circle of those he trusted.

She hesitated, fisting the strap of her handbag.

For the hundredth time, she went over Marcus’s instructions in her mind.

To her surprise, he hadn’t wanted her to stash the jewelry somewhere else and come without it. He feared they would simply torture her into giving it to them. He wanted her to simply hand it over and give them what they wanted.

Capitulation had never been Marcus’s style, and it broke her heart to hear how subdued he sounded. She’d expected some innovative plan, not a simple delivery.

But she trusted him, and she just wanted it to end. She wanted to take Marcus out of there and to get Luke his life back. It wasn’t about winning or losing or pride. It was about getting out, and maybe Marcus finally understood that. Maybe Marcus had finally understood the lesson he should have learned when his wife was murdered.

She took a deep breath, then walked up to the front gate.

Her shoulder started to burn from the bullet wound, and her face was throbbing from where Leon had hit her. “I’m here to see Leon,” she announced. “My name is Isabella Kopas.”

One of the guards nodded and unlocked the gate. “He’s expecting you.”

Isabella stepped inside the gate, and it swung shut behind her with a loud clank. Then she marched up the front steps of the place that had been her home for so long.

Nate opened the front door as she walked up the steps. His nose was swollen and he had two black eyes. “Nice of you to make it easy for me.”

Isabella swallowed. “I’m here to see Leon.”

“Yeah, I got that.” He slammed the door shut. “You got ’em?”

She licked her lips as she heard the lock engage behind her, trapping her. Dear God, what if Marcus were wrong? “Where’s Leon?”

Nate leaned into her. “You made me look bad, and I don’t like that.”

Isabella ducked under his arm and bolted down the hall toward Marcus’s office. Nate’s taunting trailed after her, and she immediately forced herself to slow down. He was just messing with her. Leon was in charge.
Nate would never touch her. “Trust Marcus’s judgment,” she whispered.

She wished she’d brought Luke with her to keep her safe…But no, the whole point was to free him. She could handle this.

She was poised and controlled by the time she strode into Marcus’s office.

The first thing she saw was Marcus sitting at his desk, wearing a suit. He appeared tired, but not as if he’d been locked up in a hostage situation for the last few days. Leon was leaning against the desk, his arms folded across his chest.

Isabella tightened her grip on her bag. “Marcus?”

“Do you have them?”

“What’s going on?”

Marcus sighed, and she saw the weariness in his shoulders. The strain in his eyes. Something was wrong. “Just give them to me, Isa.”

Slowly, she pulled the necklace out of her purse and set it on the desk.

Leon picked it up and inspected it. “It’s the real one.”

As if he could tell! She was the only one here who could make that kind of call. But Leon was speaking as if he were the voice of authority. Marcus would never let Leon have first inspection of it. Marcus controlled everything…what was going on?

“The earrings.”

Isabella took the ball and tossed it at Marcus. He caught it before Leon could intervene. “My baseball?”

“They’re inside. They always have been.”

A small smile played at Marcus’s mouth. “That’s so like Adam,” he said, his respect evident in his tone. “A sense of humor and a little bit of attitude.”

Leon pulled out a knife. “Give it to me.”

Marcus hesitated, then handed it over. “Be careful with it. It’s valuable.”

Isabella frowned as Marcus let Leon dig into the ball. “Marcus? What’s going on?”

He met her gaze, and she saw the regret. “I’m sorry, Isabella.”

Oh, God. What had he done? “About what?”

Marcus nodded to someone behind her. “We’re done with her.”

She spun around to see Nate standing behind her. He was grinning. “I saw the way Adam is with her,” he said. “He’ll definitely come after her. We have him.”

“What?” Isabella backed away from Nate. “Why do you need Luke? You have the earrings—”

“Marcus fucked up,” Leon snapped.

Isabella’s heels hit the baseboards, and she realized she couldn’t back up any farther. There was nowhere else to go. “What are you talking about?”

“Marcus’s reputation took a major hit when he didn’t deliver those earrings eight years ago,” Leon said. “And profits have been spiraling ever since. It’s time to turn it around, and we can’t do it without Adam on the payroll. We’ve got new requests our current field staff don’t have the expertise to handle. No one is as good as Adam when it comes to antiquities, and some clients won’t work with us unless he’s on their case.”

“But he quit the business—”

“As long as he has you to protect, he’ll do whatever we want. Sending you after him worked out exactly as we figured it would.” Leon grinned.

Isabella stiffened. “You sent me after Luke?”

Leon snorted. “You think it was a fluke you ran straight to Adam after that night? We needed the earrings
and we knew Adam would disappear again if we went after him. But he’s never been able to turn down a pretty girl.”

Isabella wrapped her arms around her stomach. “Marcus? Is that true?”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t like that, Isa.”

“What was it like?” She felt sick. “Did you set me up to go after him?”

“Just for the earrings!” he said wearily. “All this other stuff wasn’t supposed to happe—”

“Tell her the rest,” Leon interrupted.

Marcus swiveled toward the younger man. “There’s no more—”

“Tell her about last time. We made a mistake last time. Tell her the mistake, Marcus.”

Isabella stared at Marcus, her heart aching. “Tell me what?”

Marcus looked beaten. So destroyed. “I tried to control Adam through Anna. It didn’t work.”

“Once she was dead,” Leon said, “we had no way to manipulate him. And now we do, thanks to you.”

A cold chill settled around Isabella’s heart. Utter betrayal. “You killed Anna?” she whispered.

“No!” Marcus sat up. “I didn’t mean for that to happen! I just needed those earrings—”

“Stop.” Isabella shook her head, feeling sick to her stomach. “I don’t want to hear it. I trusted you, Marcus. I believed in you.” She had to get out of there. Had to get away from him.

“Isabella! You have to listen—”

“No! I don’t owe you anything!” She turned and stumbled to the door. She’d trusted him with everything, and he’d betrayed her on every level. And he’d betrayed his own son.

Nate caught up with her at the door and grabbed her arm. “You’re not going home, Isa. You’re here for good.”

She didn’t bother to resist as he dragged her down the hall.

She’d blown it. She’d betrayed Luke. Instead of freeing him, she’d trapped him forever. Instead of two men who loved her, she had none.

Nate shoved her into her old room and locked the door behind her.

She stared numbly at the lush drapes, at the massive ornate bed, at the hand-woven Oriental carpet on the floor. The room that had once been home. It seemed like a stranger’s room. It was cold and impersonal. Too perfect. No touch of herself in there. Just Marcus’s decorator’s opinion.

It was nothing like Luke’s home in Alaska. That had been a home.

She’d had her chance. And she’d thrown it aside.

She’d lost it all.

Luke tossed his weapons in the passenger seat of the truck and climbed inside.

He was focused. Intent.

He had one goal: to make it end.

It didn’t matter how it had to happen. He was willing to take it all the way. He was taking his life back, and he was avenging his mother, Anna and Cort.

As for Isabella…

Darkness settled around his heart as he jammed the truck into gear.

Isabella had lost.