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  * * * *

  Liv walked the floor with worry, after waking up alone, the bed cold, her heart racing. Jack hadn’t said goodbye. She couldn’t call him, couldn’t do anything but wait and pray for him to come back safe. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she had gone down to the kitchen, made tea, and taken it back to Jack’s room to wait.

  She was just sitting it on the nightstand when two loud pops sounded outside. Was it a car backfiring or gunshots? She would have to find out if she were to have any peace, but she knew what it was and thought of the two guards assigned to her just outside the front door. She slipped on her tennis shoes, just in case she had to run, and fleetingly wondered where exactly was she going to run to in her silk robe and gown. As an afterthought, she grabbed the lamp on her nightstand and held it like a club over her shoulder, left her door open as she crept into the hall.

  Someone grabbed a fistful of her hair and began to drag her down the stairs.

  “It’s going to be a pleasure, Ms. Corrigan, a real pleasure taking you apart piece by piece.” A man? Why was that more terrifying?

  Liv smelled blood on the knife underneath her nose, and was hit with a wave of nausea so strong it buckled her knees. She thought of the picture Nelson had shown her of two towheaded little girls. Was he dead?

  “Come along now, I’m anxious to get started.”

  The thin silk she wore barely covered the necessities. Her capturer slid the knife down her neck under the pencil thin strap. She jerked when the blade nicked her shoulder. Something hard hit her behind the ear and darkness swallowed her questions.

  * * * *

  Someone dove into Ryan, knocking them both to the ground. He gave thanks to God for whoever had saved his skin just now. The breath he drew into his lungs was painfully sharp from having the wind knocked out of him. He heard shouts from the agents behind him, saw the man scrambling to the boat and driving away.

  An explosion shook the ground, and completely engulfed the boat. He felt the sweltering heat roll over him in a wave and was shoved, again, to the ground. Who was going to get the unpleasant task of telling the Smithsonian that their precious diamond necklace was blown to kingdom come, especially since they didn’t know it was missing yet?

  He glanced over at Jack, who was still lying on the ground where he’d shoved him trying to get his breath back. Easing up, Jack winced from the pain, his leg covered in blood.

  “Ryan? You aren’t dead yet, are you?”

  “Roarke, you’re an idiot. Thanks. I’m still alive. I think.” He offered him a hand up and Jack groaned with pain at the weight the motion must have put on his injured leg.

  “Thanks.”

  Ryan pulled Jack to his feet. “Why aren’t you carrying out your bloody life’s mission protecting my sister? I’d have thought you two would be…working.”

  “You should probably start calling me Jack, Ryan, since I’ve saved you twice now, and I’m sleeping with your sister.”

  Ryan growled and shifted his eyes back and forth to make sure no one heard.

  “You just had to put that thought in my head didn’t you?”

  Jack grinned at him, and Ryan felt like finding a shotgun. “Yep. She’s fine, by the way, and misses you. You could have called her.”

  Agent Spiller stalked toward them, as Sam tried to head him off.

  “I’d say you’re about to catch hell for that little stunt. I guess I owe you.” Spiller spewed, ranted, and raved at both of them.

  Ryan ignored him.

  “There’s an extra guest room if you need a place to hide out. They’ll be after you now. Your sister would be glad to see you.”

  “Thanks anyway, but I’m staying away for her own good. I hope they come after me.” He pointed a finger at the blond-haired agent. “What are you going to do about him?”

  “Nothing.”

  Ryan watched Jack limp away and leave Spiller yelling and waving at air, walk up to Sam and take the badge out of his pocket.

  Jack laid the metal shield in Sam’s palm and turned to limp toward the emergency vehicles that had descended on them like ants on a picnic.

  Ryan called back to him, “Get that leg checked out, Jack. I think they got another piece of you.”

  “Damn, they did. Great. Liv’s going to want to paw and fuss over it now. She won’t give me any peace.”

  Ryan heard him shout Liv’s name, watched him grab his forehead and take off toward the parking lot. What was that all about? Was she in trouble?

  * * * *

  Jack screeched to a halt in front of the house. He took the front steps at a run and was greeted with the stench of fresh death. He was too late. Detective Matthews lay in a pool of his own blood. The back of his head and most of his brains were spattered all over the foyer floor, door, walls, and Jack’s mother’s Oriental rug. Even training and having witnessed death come firsthand hadn’t prepared him for such a sight. Fear for Liv was the only thing that pushed him past it and up the stairs.

  He called for her, she didn’t answer. He had to calm his mind to sense her. Only seconds had passed that he’d been searching for her, but he knew she wasn’t there. He just knew that she was gone. The image of a knife pricking white flesh and smoky silk slashed through his conscious mind. The killer had taken her. Jack felt an icy hand on his shoulder. Serena. He couldn’t see her but he could hear her in his mind.

  “Get out now! You waste time looking, Jack. She’s gone. The house! Hurry!”

  He didn’t question the ghostly advice. Jack was getting used to it by now. He heeded it, jumped in the car, and was flying down the drive when he dialed 911.

  “Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?”

  Jack tried to be calm as he relayed the information to her. “My name is Jackson Roarke. My girlfriend has been kidnapped from my home.” He rattled off the address. “She was under police protection, both guards are dead.”

  He waited while she got the necessary information, promised to wait, and hung up. His next call was to Ryan.

  “Corrigan.”

  “Ryan, she’s gone. Her guards were killed. I called the police. The house was wide open and the security system was shut down. He took her. I know it.” Jack passed through the gate and parked outside the wall. He got out and leaned against the car to wait. Once again, he felt Serena’s presence, almost reassuring him. The hand on his shoulder felt so tangible he almost started to reach back to lay his own over it, as he’d done with Liv only that morning. He turned to look back at their home, and had only a glimpse before night turned into the daylight and the force of the explosion threw him to the pavement. A splinter of wood sliced through his face, a long line carved from cheekbone to jaw. The house he’d been in only seconds before was a giant fireball licking at anything and everything around it. Everything he’d had or known was gone in an instant and he’d almost gone with it. He would have been in there searching for her, if Serena’s ghost hadn’t sent him out. Jack felt shattered, body, mind, and heart. He could do nothing but watch his memories burn and wait for what came next.

  Chapter 20

  Ryan paced back and forth in front of the study windows. Hours had passed. He waited for a call, either from Jack or the kidnappers. He called Jack’s cell dozens of times and got nothing but voicemail. He couldn’t do anything but wait. It was driving him crazy. His ears perked up at the sound of a car in his drive. He practically ran to the door. A filthy and haggard Jack stood, barely, on the threshold.

  Jack said nothing. He just limped through the door and into the study, drowning in the stench of smoke, blood, and too much alcohol. He hadn’t had the gunshot graze patched up yet. Ryan poured him a glass of whiskey.

  “Drink this. You’re a mess.” He got a tumbler for himself. It looked like he might have need of it tonight.

  “Bring the bottle.” Jack growled, then plopped into Ryan’s favorite chair and killed the drink in one long gulp. “I never drink. Can’t stand the stuff.”

  “Sure you don’t
, that’s why you’re half sloshed already. Make yourself at home, Jack.” He tossed back, though he couldn’t quite work up the sarcasm he meant. “Have they called?”

  He saw Jack frown at the empty glass.

  “Can’t. Can’t go home. Can’t see Liv.” He slurred and tapped his temple, missed and poked himself in the eye. “The house is gone. Everything. Serena is dead. Liv is gone. I got nothing left. House exploded like a roman candle.” He tossed his arms around and sloshed liquor everywhere. Then Jack sighed gustily. “Liv loves candles.”

  Ryan looked at this man his sister loved with some sense of knowing that he was a brother to him now, wanted or not, regardless of any legalities. Jack’s face had about thirty stitches running from eye to chin. They’d certainly scar and with his dark coloring make him look like a pirate. Liv would probably think it was sexy and rakish. Ryan winced at his own thought. Jack still wore the clothes from earlier, was covered with two layers of soot from both explosions and smelled like hellfire. He was crying and mumbling something about rain and candles and milky skin that had Ryan plugging his ears.

  “This isn’t going to help, Jack. Get upstairs and make yourself presentable before the law gets here.” When he continued to sit unmoving, Ryan took the bottle and yanked him out of the chair.

  “Look, I understand how you feel, but we both helped get her into this. It’s time we did something besides hide and cower like dogs. You’re no good to me drunk.”

  “How can you know? Damn you! I lost my wife. I got a second chance, now I’ve lost that too,” Jack yelled in his face.

  It took every thing Ryan had not to punch him. “You’re acting like she’s already dead. They won’t kill her, yet. Don’t you get that? They’ll torture her first. This man is pure evil. He’ll slice pieces of her skin off. Do you want to know how he told me he would kill her? Every second you sit here whining is another moment’s pain she had to endure. You waste time.”

  “That’s what she said.” Jack frowned.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Talk to ghosts too much. Forget when my company’s human. You’re right. I’m sorry.” Jack climbed the stairs as Ryan called up to him.

  “Second door on the left, top of the stairs.” He waited until the words could come. “I lost a child and its mother. The woman I was going to marry decided she didn’t want the child, or me, so she rid herself of it. Ten years past now, but you don’t forget. I know. It hurts viciously, worse when you can’t do anything about it. You still have a chance, if you hurry.”

  Ryan said nothing more. The admission made the memory all too fresh and in the end they had gone their separate ways, he and Kate. He’d since earned degrees in accounting and business. He guessed that Kate had gone on to medical school as planned. She’d not contacted him since. She had forgotten him and the baby they had made together. He hadn’t and never would. He’d always love her with every breath, and hate her just the same.

  * * * *

  Liv woke disoriented in the early morning dawn to the sound of metal grinding and a man’s low rumbling laughter. She was bound hands and feet to each of four bedposts of a bed covered with foul smelling linens. She could only guess at what soiled them, and immediately cursed her writer’s imagination when she did. She shifted and had just enough room to move a little, and noted, thank God, she was still dressed.

  At least he hadn’t raped her yet. She wondered how much time she had lost, how much she had left. The knots of the rope were tied too tightly for her to slip free. She knew what the sound was. The knife, he must be sharpening to a razor edge, just for her. She’d have to get free. Her mind kept whirling that thought and any others that might help.

  She could see him now in the harsh neon lights that had yet to be turned off by the neighboring bar owner. Tall and bulky, dressed in army gear. So he might have military training. Even if she were freed, she couldn’t take him in hand-to-hand combat. As he turned and began to ogle her, she used the only weapon she had. She tried to project her thoughts to Jack, like she did with Skye. Maybe he could read them. There had to be an extremely close connection between the sender and receiver. He was her mate, and gifted, surely that would be enough.

  “I’m gonna kill you, bitch, but first I’m gonna enjoy you.” He leered at the thin silk gown she still wore and made his first mistake. He’d just given her another weapon.

  “Please.” The tears were real. “I’ll do anything you want. Don’t kill me.”

  “Is that a fact?” He unbound her hands. That was his second mistake. “I knew you were twisted, watched you with the cop. Nasty little bitch, aren’t you? Did you like all those things he did to you? I'll do worse and before it’s over, you’ll beg for more.”

  She reached out with her freed hand and grabbed the wrist of his knife hand, pressing down on the pressure point until he let go. While he yowled in pain, she snatched it up and plunged it through his heart. He looked down to where his hunting knife protruded from his chest for a moment in shock as his hot sticky blood pumped out all over her. He was dead before he hit the floor, before she passed out covered in blood, feet still bound, in a killer’s bed.

  * * * *

  Jack was just reaching the bottom of the stairs when a wave of dizziness knocked him down the other four steps. He couldn’t hear her, but he could see her tied up, covered in blood. A flicker of green light flashed on her. In his mind’s eye, he willed his consciousness to turn and search out the source. A neon light hung not five feet across from the window of the rat hole apartment. He knew the sign and the place from his days of working undercover, Marty’s. He came out of the trance-like state at the bottom of the stairs with Ryan yelling at him and shaking him like a madman.

  “Are you trying to bash your brains out? Two explosions and now a tumble down the stairs!”

  “I know where she is.” He grabbed his keys where they had landed on the floor by the door. “If you plan on coming along, you got till I’m in the car.”

  Ryan beat him out of the house.

  “How do you know? Is she okay?”

  Jack had his eyes on the road and his mind on Liv.

  “I saw her. She must have tried to call out to me. If I hadn’t been so drunk, I’d have seen it before. Whiskey tends to dull the mind.” He swerved to avoid an oncoming pickup and cut off the driver in front of him.

  “What are you, psychic or something? Liv doesn’t believe in psychics. Ask our brother. You shouldn’t be driving.”

  Jack punched the gas and ran under the yellow traffic light just as it was going red, point of no return. “I only had two glasses. I used to have visions, hear people who weren’t really there, dreams, you know the usual ESP stuff when I was a kid. I learned to block it out after my wife died. I can’t seem to do that since I met your sister. Sometimes I swear it’s like she’s reading my mind.”

  Somehow Ryan found the nerve to laugh at him. ”Some psychic you are. She is reading your mind, probably not on purpose though. She showed you where she is. Skye is fey, you know, he and Liv have been communicating telepathically since they could talk. Used to drive the rest of us crazy, always being left out of the loop.”

  Jack cut the wheel sharp to the right just in time to make the last turn.

  “She’s a telepath, but there’s no such…”

  “Yes, she is, but only with Skye. She’s never been able to do the same with anyone else she’s been close to. She’s always just considered it something twins do. You’d have to be practically part of her… You’re in love with her.”

  “I want her to marry me, but I haven’t figured out how we’re going to work it out. She won’t move to the states, and I can’t go to Ireland.” Jack screeched to a halt outside the bar.

  Ryan muttered when his head bashed the dashboard, his brogue thickening with annoyance. “You’re a crazy bastard.”

  “Should have been wearing your seat belt, it’s the law. This is the place.” He noted the position of the sign and using his vision as his
guide, guessed the part of building Liv might be in. “She should be up there on the second floor somewhere in the middle.” Jack checked his pistol.

  “Aren’t you going to wait for the police?” Ryan asked.

  “I’m the police.” They got out and headed for the building without a front door, just a narrow stairwell.

  “Not anymore. You gave the badge back, remember.”

  “Right, a lot’s happened tonight. I’m not leaving here without her, whatever I have to do.” He checked the clip in his pistol. Eyes grim and determined, he glanced back at Ryan. “Let’s go.”

  * * * *

  Gueraldi listened while the details of the night’s events were relayed to him.

  “The boat blew, diamonds on board. Corrigan still lives. Roarke’s to thank for that. Screw-ups everywhere, sir. Per your orders, I went to persuade Miss Corrigan to come with me, but someone beat me to it.”

  Gueraldi tightened his grip on the receiver. “Is that so? Have you located LeFleur yet?”

  “He’s slipped under the radar, but I’ll find him. Finding the woman may prove more difficult, and she could be dead. The writer’s house was in cinders when I got there. I don’t know if she was in it when it blew or not. Looked like Shadow’s work to me, messy.”

  Gueraldi tried to remain calm. Control was everything. Never let anger rule.

  “She’s alive. Shadow will have taken her. I believe you know where to find her now. I want Olivia Corrigan here within the hour or it will be your neck I will snap.” He slammed down the phone, the only outward sign of his rage. A timid knock came at the door.

  “Who is it?”

  “Marie.” The feminine reply was a welcome respite.

  “Come in.” She was short, blond, well built and very French.

  “I only wish to inquire if you need anything before I retire.”

  He smiled, cold and deadly, and wagged a finger.

  Believing she knew what he wanted, she came around the side of the desk, leaned over and unzipped his trousers.