The Huntress: full-length sexy romantic suspense (30 page)

Vega rose from the edge of the boat, prepared to stop Grayson from doing something stupid.

“What—did—you—say?” Grayson asked.

“I said, you killed Greg and refuse to admit it, even to yourself. Stop accusing others for your crimes.”

Grayson moved quickly. He yanked Whitfield up by the collar and punched him. Vega lunged forward and grabbed hold of Grayson’s arm before he could hit Whitfield again.

“You need him alive,” she said.

“Really?” Grayson shrugged off Vega’s hand and punched Whitfield in the side of the head. She turned away, not willing to watch Grayson do this.

“Please,” Whitfield whined, “I’ll talk.”

“Shut up,” Butch said.

Grayson hit Whitfield several more times. The sound of flesh slamming against flesh caught in Vega’s throat.

“Please stop,” Whitfield whined even louder.

“Why? The man you paid to kill Greg didn’t stop, even after he was long dead.”

“That wasn’t how it was supposed to be! Butch was supposed to make it look like an accident! He wasn’t supposed to torture him! Please! Butch is a maniac! He even killed a bounty hunter he worked with, saying he’d gotten too close!”

“Shut up, damn it!” Butch shouted.

“He—he said he could handle things. He was the one who wanted to kill you. Please don’t hit me again! I swear I’ll talk to the police!”

Even the cicadas were shocked into silence after that outburst. Vega turned back to Grayson and held her breath. She watched as he tightened his grip around Whitfield’s collar, curled his hand into a tight ball, and slammed his fist into Whitfield’s bony jaw. Whitfield dropped to the bottom of the boat.

“That’ll be the end of Six-Star,” Grayson said and cranked the motor. “I’m not exactly sure what Whitfield was into, but if it’s as bad as I suspect, the feds will seize all company assets. I’ll be unemployed.”

“Jack’s always looking for new blood. Ever consider bounty hunting?”

He frowned at her for a moment, but the dock was fast approaching so he had to pay attention to the waterway. “Depends,” he said.

Nearly an hour passed as Fiona and Whitfield were loaded into an ambulance and Butch and his minion into a squad car. The police put a boat in the water to return to the island to pick up the guards they’d left tied up in the boat shed.

“Depends on what?” Vega asked, while Sheriff Townsend—the same man who’d released her from those chains in the convenience store—hovered nearby.

“What?” Grayson asked.

“Bounty hunting. I told you Jack is always looked for new talent.” Vega wanted to kick herself for pursuing it. She didn’t know why she wasn’t ready to let Grayson out of her life. “And you said—”

“It depends on whether you’re included in the deal.”

“Hmmm…” Vega couldn’t think of anything more intelligent than that to say without committing herself. Her knees suddenly felt a little weak.

“Miss Brookes,” Sheriff Townsend called out. “Isn’t that the same man who…?”

Vega tossed her arms around Grayson’s neck and gave him a kiss guaranteed to keep him thinking about her while he was locked away and answering endless questions poised by the feds and the Atlanta PD.

“Yes.” She was slightly out of breath when she landed on her feet again. Grayson looked a little wobbly himself. “Yes, Sheriff. This is the same man. He needs to be returned to the authorities in Atlanta. I’ve got a bounty to collect.”

“You won’t get rid of me that easily,” Grayson promised.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Did you see this?” Fiona asked. Her nose was buried in the morning newspaper. A steaming caffe latte sat untouched on the table in front of her.

Vega settled in the painted metal seat across from her sister and gave her glass of organic grapefruit juice a sip. This was a new routine for them, gathering in the coffee shop across the street from the dojo after spending the early morning hours training together.

Fiona was taking training seriously. A real change in attitude. For the last two hours, she’d worked with a killer’s focus.

“Whoa, you’ve got to read this.” Fiona folded the paper in half and handed it across the table. “And don’t you dare tell me you already knew.”

Vega stared at the headline.

Three months had passed since she’d caught Grayson hiding on that small marsh island and realized she’d been chasing the wrong villain…in more ways than one.

He’d promised she’d see him again. Three months and no phone call, no scrawled note, nothing. She’d learned of his release from jail through the papers. Johnson with the FBI had called several days later to tell her that Grayson had been cleared of all murder charges. Whitfield, it seemed, was cooperating beautifully.

While Six-Star Enterprises was crumbling and the FBI went about arresting a larger and larger net of criminals involved with the Spider organization—though regional organizers like Finn Kayne were slipping through the holes—Vega had waited. She had to be a fool. The connection she’d made with Grayson had been magical, but surely it hadn’t been real.

Even so, her heart ached whenever she found reports of Spider in the headlines. They reminded her of Grayson. She’d allow herself to be vulnerable around him…what a damned fool.

“So?” Fiona asked, nearly bouncing in her seat. “What do you think this means?”

Vega shook her head as she read the article.

“Mega-Mogul of Whitfield Investments Murdered in Jail Cell,” the headline read. The article went on to detail Joshua Whitfield’s rise in the investment banking world and his connection to Spider. All the facts where laid out: how he’d provided a financial safe-haven for Spider; how he’d conspired with Butch to murder Greg Harper when he’d found out to much; and how they’d set Grayson up to take the blame. And the article praised the indomitable Vega Brookes—their words—and described how she had single-handedly discovered Whitfield’s dirty dealings and exposed the Spider crime organization.

“Before her, we had a vague idea that there was something building in the country,” Agent Johnson was quoted saying. “The FBI now has a name to put to the activities. Unfortunately, Whitfield was only one tentacle on this monster. There’s still a considerable amount of work to be done.”

Whitfield had been stabbed by one of his inmates with a sharpened butter knife just a week before he was to testify before a grand jury. “Authorities inside the prison suspect Spider’s involvement,” the paper quoted Johnson again.

“Whitfield’s death won’t get Butch off,” Fiona said over Vega’s silence. “They’ve got enough evidence on him to keep him locked up forever.”

“I know.”

“They didn’t mention my name once. I did help, you know. They said you single-handedly…”

“I know you helped.” Vega smiled. “That’s why I gave you half of Grayson’s bounty.”

“Four million dollars.” Fiona’s green eyes sparkled with excitement. “I still can’t believe Butch was going to be paid four million dollars to kill me. They were scared of me, Vega. Four million dollars scared.”

“Not just you.” Leave it to her sister to turn a brush with death into a victory. “We were a package deal…you, Grayson, and me. And you shouldn’t be so smug about it.”

“Smug? Me? Never!”

They both laughed. Vega couldn’t help but feel awe at how close they’d grown in such a short time.

“Vega! What in the world are you wearing?” Her mother scolded as she approached the table. They had plans with Gillie to spend the morning shopping followed with an extravagant lunch at the club. Vega glanced down at her short jeans skirt and slightly worn brown wool sweater, and wondered what was wrong with it. It wasn’t as if her mother had invited another bachelor to lunch for her to…

“Who’s coming?” She fought an urge to run for cover.

“No one. I just wish…oh, nothing. I just want you to be happy, dear.” Amazingly, since Grayson’s capture, the parade of bachelors had virtually stopped.

“I am happy,” Vega insisted.

Gillie gave her daughter a maternal once over and sighed. Things weren’t perfect with her family. Her mother had even started to take an interest in Vega’s life. Hell, normal be damned…they were getting
closer
as a family.

It felt pretty good.

“You look nice, Fiona.” Gillie took a seat at the table and fiddled in her purse for a moment before producing a small golden compact. “How is your arm feeling today?”

The morning flew by, as did the afternoon. After an exhausting day shopping and being friendly at the club, the three of them returned to their mother’s mansion for a refreshing bout of ‘girl-talk’.

Things were certainly changing.

And Jack. Well, he was still Jack. He arrived at Gillie’s sometime around four and promptly settled in a large velvet-covered armchair. Sipping on her mother’s best brandy he looked just about as pleased with himself as a cat bringing a plump, dead rat home to present to his owners.

“You’re not going to work alone anymore,” he announced out of the blue. “No more scaring the shit out of me, Vega. I’m teaming you up with a partner.”

“Not Fiona.” The words popped out of her mouth before she could think how hurtful she must have sounded. How like her father… “I mean, I don’t think she’s ready yet. Soon, but not yet.” No matter how good her sister became at defending herself, Vega doubted she’d ever be comfortable with her sister following in her footsteps. Fiona would always be the younger one, the one to be protected.

“Not Fiona,” Jack said softly with a broad smile in Fiona’s direction. “Someone else.”

And that was all he’d say.

No amount of prodding would get him to talk.

Not even a gentle threat of violence.

* * * *

Vega didn’t return to her apartment until pretty late that night. No matter how hard she tried, the surprise of meeting her new partner just an hour away still bounced around in Vega’s mind as she pushed open the door of her apartment.

She sensed his presence even before she saw him. He’d stolen into her space like the thief in her dreams.

He’d promised he’d come. But that had been three months ago. Her trust in his word had faded. And now there he stood, in the middle of her darkened living room no more real than a shadow.

“Should I think I’m dreaming?” Vega asked cautiously.

Without speaking a word or breaking the magic, he silently crossed the room and took her into his arms, crushing her against his chest.

She had enjoyed the sense of safety those erotic dreams of hers had given her. In the darkness, she could open her heart; confident he’d always return. Confident he’d never do anything to hurt her.

“You are real, aren’t you?” she said, reaching out to caress his rough jaw.

He nodded as he lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. Her heart pounded in her throat. True to his word, though painfully late, he’d come for her. He’d come to make love to her, to reawaken the emotions she’d discovered during that brief interlude on the island.

Having him finally here, in her apartment, was terrifying.

“You’re late.” She wiggled out of his embrace and crossed her arms high on her chest. “Several months late.”

“I know.” He drew his thumb across her lower lip. The simple gesture was so very intimate. She leaned forward and let him trace the outline of her upper lip. Her mouth opened slightly, anticipating. A warm shiver spiraled through her chest, settling low in her belly.

No. He wasn’t going to draw her in so easily. She backed away. “Why stay away? Why didn’t you at least call?”

“Why?” He raked a hand through his short, dusty brown hair. “Damn, this is going to be harder than I thought.”

Vega waited. Oh, it killed her to not just let him kiss away those twisting feelings of distrust.

“Mirna,” he whispered. “I needed to face her death. All these years and I’ve never really accepted… I was afraid that if I returned to work with you, I might make the same mistakes and get you killed.”

He took her back into his arms and buried his face in her hair. His hands traveled up and down her spine. “I went to Colombia after the feds let me go. That’s where I’ve been… putting the past behind me.”

He kissed her then, leaving her head spinning. “I had to find peace there, Vega, before I could explore a future with you.”

* * * *

Two days later, Vega dragged Grayson from her bed to give him a tour of the city. He’d exhausted her—not physically, but deeper, in a nameless dark place—and she used the tour as an excuse for a break.

“It’s still overwhelming you?” he asked as she drove him through the Rivertown District and spouted off useless tidbits of information about the age of the converted warehouses in the area and the industries that used to rely on them.

“A little,” she admitted.

“Flirting with love can do that.”

Vega wasn’t ready to admit to such a problematic emotion.

“I don’t need the words,” Grayson said after several silent minutes. “I wasn’t fishing for them, you know.”

“I know.” Suddenly the interior of her Jeep felt too cramped for the both of them. Vega turned into the Civic Center Promenade, a riverfront park, and parked. She jumped out and gulped a deep breath of air. This being in love business was much more frightening than facing down a room full of hard-edged drug dealers.

“Let’s go for a walk along the water,” she suggested.

Grayson’s eyes widened as he looked up at the heavy-laden clouds above them. It was cold, and windy and about to rain buckets.

Vega didn’t give him the chance to protest. She forged down the path, not slowing until Grayson caught her hand.

“Don’t run away. I’m not trying to rush anything, I swear.” He linked his fingers with hers and walked beside her down the path. He didn’t have a jacket on, only a heavy cotton sweater. Vega’s new leather coat—the third one in as many months—kept her reasonably warm against the spring’s damp chill.

“I do like having you around,” Vega admitted. Jack had made a good choice with making Grayson her partner. She looked forward to their first assignment. “We’ll make a good team, you and me.”

Grayson nodded absently. His hand tightened around hers. Without any more noticeable change than that, his manner went from playful lover to killer on the prowl.