CHAPTER ONE
Savage
The graveyard is a haze of mist and shadows, the night silent but for the chirping of crickets. I stand with the tombstone of my mother beside me and my enemy holding a blade to Candace’s throat—the woman I love, the only woman I’ve ever wanted to call my wife. I’m sure he believes killing Candace with that blade is poetic justice, payback for me slitting his wife’s throat. His wife was going to kill a child. She deserved what she got.
I don’t regret the decision to kill her and Candace will not pay for her death.
I could play games with Wes, another person would, and likely play the negotiation game, but I am not another person nor is he bluffing or buying time. He’s going to kill her. That’s the only reality I require to decide on my action. He moves his head to the side of hers and dares to show me his face. A second later, the blade in my hand is in his forehead. Candace falls forward on her hands and knees, and I’m already behind her, standing over him. I’ve learned the hard way never to assume a man is dead, and in this case, that would have been a foolish assumption at that. Wes isn’t dead. Even with that blade in his forehead, he grabs my calf. Since we’re being all grabby, I make a grab, too, for the blade in his forehead. I pull it out and shove it into his heart. Now he’s fucking dead. But just to be certain, I grind it and twist it, finishing the job before I pull the blade out, wipe it on his shirt, and shove it in my belt for easy access.
Urgent to have eyes on Candace, I twist around to find her pushing to her feet, her dark hair wild around her face, the wind gusting so damn hard it all but blows her away. I’m there before she’s fully straightened, righting her footing and catching her wrist before I step into her, the feel of her body next to mine, blessed relief. I’m not thinking about her watching me kill Wes right now. I’m thinking about how close she came to him killing her.
My hand comes down on the back of her head. “Tell me you’re okay,” I order, our faces close. “I need to hear the words.”
“Now I am,” she promises, her breath warm on my lips. “Because of you.”
My mouth closes down on her mouth in a desperate need to taste her, my tongue sweeping long and deep, my hand on her back molding her closer. Her arms slide around me, her curves melding into me and God, for minutes there, I thought I’d never feel her like this again. She moans softly, a delicate sound that undoes me and not in the more primal way it normally would. It reminds me that yes, she is tough. She is a fighter. But, in one slice of a well-skilled hand on a blade, and Wes’s hand was skilled, she would have been gone. And he’s not the only one that would see her dead if I don’t see them dead first.
“We need to move now,” I murmur, tearing my lips from hers, my hand closing around her hand.
She gives a quick nod, but her understanding isn’t enough to make me let go of her. I’m never letting her go again and I can’t get her to New York, where I have layers of protection available, soon enough. Pulling her tight to my side, I lead her back to my mother’s grave. Kneeling, I take her down to the ground with me, keeping her within arm’s reach. Candace grabs the flashlight she’d dropped when attacked and holds it for me, an action that might seem small, but isn’t. She almost died minutes ago. She’s not crying. She’s not shaking, in fact, her hand is steady. She’s not freaking out. She’s in fight mode, I sense that in her, and I fucking love her more in this moment than ever, when I already loved her with all that I am. I lean over and kiss her before I grab the blade that killed that buzzard Wes, and use it to dig for the data drive I hid here and pull it from the dirt.
“Oh, thank God,” Candace murmurs. “Please let that be what we need.”
“I didn’t hide it if it wasn’t worth saving,” I promise her, hoping like hell it really is what we need to take down Gabriel and ensure no part of Tag’s operation survives his death. Shoving the knife back into my belt, and standing up, I take her with me to our feet.
“Let’s go,” I murmur, catching her hand but when I would set us in motion, she tugs against me.
“What about him?” she asks, motioning toward what is left of Wes.
“Clean-up support is not on us. We’re leaving.” I start to move.
She tugs harder this time. “What about DNA and cameras and—”
“Baby, trust me,” I say and despite the light it paints me in, I add, “I’ll handle it. I know how to handle these things.”
“Right. Of course.” Her voice is strained, the shadows thick, and I don’t even try to read her reaction right now. Right now, I need to focus on her safety and our future, nothing else. I start walking again and this time she double steps, eager to keep up, while I dig my keys out of my pocket, clicking the clicker to unlock the black Porsche I’d rented.
When I’d arrived in San Antonio, I’d wanted to impress her. I’d also wanted its speed and agility that I hope like hell we don’t need tonight. Once we’re both sealed safely inside, I start the engine and dial Adam. “Wes attacked Candace at the cemetery.”
“I assume he didn’t know your reputation and is now dead?” He doesn’t wait for confirmation. “What clean-up do you need?”
“I’ll have Tag clean up his own mess. Just watch your back.” I disconnect and pull the Porsche onto the highway while hitting the callback to the number Tag called me from. He answers with, “I take it you’re the last man standing?”
“He held a blade to my woman’s neck. Clean up your mess before I turn you into a pile of skin and bones and enjoy it far more than a normal human being should enjoy such things. So much so I’ll take my time and enjoy your screams. He’s at the cemetery, by my mother’s grave.” I disconnect and glance over at Candace, who’s staring ahead, her fingers gripping the seat, her spine stiff. “You sure you’re okay?”
Of course, she’s not okay. She just had a blade to her neck, watched me kill Wes, and now heard me tell Tag what I fantasize about doing to him.
“I’m alive,” she says. “I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of fabulous considering all that’s happened.”
My jaw clenches with anger over that blade and how easily it ended up at her throat. She grabs my hands. “Don’t go down the blame rabbit hole, Rick,” she orders, “or the ‘save me by leaving me’ rabbit hole, either. You’re not leaving me. We just had this conversation before all of this happened.”
“You’re right, baby,” I say, hating how easily she believes I’ll leave again, and I have no one to blame but me. “We’re past that kind of doubt. I’m not leaving you. I’m not even thinking about leaving you. What I am going to do is kill Tag and every motherfucking bastard who works for him. There will be no mercy. Not after me seeing that blade at your throat.”
CHAPTER TWO
Savage
I pull the Porsche to the door of Hotel Emma, where several doormen await, and quickly scan my face for blood. I’m out of the car on the driver’s side before either of them can get to me. Further inspection of my arms, hands, and clothes, tell me that I killed that dipwad without wearing a drop of his blood. If Candace didn’t know how efficient a killer I am, or how well-trained I am at killing and getting away with it, she does now. I’ve told her that I’m not the surgeon she was once going to marry. The problem is that being told such a thing, and saying you understand it, versus having the truth shoved in your face, is like comparing peanut butter and jelly. They aren’t the same. And like peanut butter and jelly, Candace and I are not the same, but we are underrated as a team. I underrated us as a team. I just hope like hell she didn’t overrate us in her mind. Because I love the fuck out of this woman.