A Thin Line (58 page)

“That is going to be most difficult when I want to kill him myself.”

“Rebekah, I have told you on many occasions that he has excellent reasons for everything you accuse him of,” Teddy sounded as if he were attempting to patiently talk to a small child.

“So you say.
 
I still reserve the right to despise him.
 
Even now, he needs to be here and where is he?
 
Or should I say whose bed is he in?
 
He is single-handedly destroying your family name, and all you do is make excuses for him.
 
It sickens me.”
 
She turned once more to stare out the window.
 
The children were playing tag with the dogs.
 
Squeals, laughter, and barks filtered into the room.

“On this we will just have to agree to disagree.”

“Teddy, he runs one of London’s most notorious gaming hells!
 
How can you excuse that?”

“I have said all that I will say on the matter.”

“Oh,” she growled, “Sarah said you could be stubborn when you set your mind to something.”

“And I have set my mind to this.
 
Need I remind you what Sarah said when I held her in my arms as she took her last breaths?”

“No,” she bit out, tightening her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms.
 
She refused to give into any more tears.
 
It had been two years since they buried her sister, and best friend, but some days it felt like only yesterday.

“She wanted you to be happy.”

“And marrying your wastrel brother is the solution?” she asked incredulously, spinning around to face him once more.

“Regardless of what you think, family is very important to Thorn.
 
He loved Sarah like a sister for most of his life.
 
He loves his niece and nephew.
 
He tolerates you,” he tried to tease.

“I loathe him.”

“What really happened between the two of you?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” she huffed and moved across the room.

“Sarah always suspected there was more between the two of you than you let on, but she said you remained tight-lipped about it.”

“It was none of her business and now it is none of yours.”

“Fine.”
 
He held up his hands knowing he would not get anywhere further on that front.
 
He started to say something but another fit of coughing overcame him.
 
This time it lasted longer than before, and had him doubling over until Rebekah could assist him to a chair.
 
Once seated, she quickly got him something to drink.
 
She made to stand up when he grasped her wrist.
 
She could not help but notice that his grip had weakened over the weeks.
 
Kneeling beside him, she looked up at him and saw the desperate look in his eyes.
 
“Please, Rebekah.”

Those two words were like a death knell sounding over the valley.
 
Suddenly she felt as if someone had put the last nail in her coffin and she could not take in enough air.
 
“Do what you must,” she said, rising to her feet.

“Thank you.
 
You don’t know how this eases my mind.”
 

“I’m going to go outside with the children for a while,” she said, slipping out of his grasp and escaping from the room.
 
Once she reached the coolness of the darkened hallway, she came to a stop.
 
“Bloody hell and damnation,” she muttered, nerves and anger jockeying for first place position inside her.
 
“This will never work.
 
I’ll kill him first.

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Seducing the Ruthless Rogue

The Rogue Agents Trilogy, Book 2

May 11, 1812

Stuart McKenzie straightened the cuffs of his shirt and his cravat before he entered the lobby of the House of Commons.
 
He had received a note from Prime Minister Percevel to meet him here.
 
Very rarely did he have direct contact with the prime minister, so he was intrigued as to why he was being asked to meet him, and here of all places.
 
Usually he would be summoned to the man’s office.

He entered the lobby of the building to find men milling about.
 
Of course, there would be meetings and hearings on different matters being held today.
 
Mack moved to a shadowed corner where he could watch the proceedings.
 
He wasn’t one to have his back to people.
 
It was not wise for one in his position.
 
Not after having had several assassination attempts on his life, one very nearly succeeding.
 

At the other end of the lobby, the doors opened and Percevel entered with his entourage of people.
 
They crossed the lobby and people could be heard hailing greetings to him.
 
A man entered, looking about nervously.
 
Mack perked up and began to cross the lobby.
 
Something about the man seemed off.
 
All of a sudden, the atmosphere seemed charged with energy.

“Prime Minister,” the man called.
 
Percevel turned, a smile on his face from something one of the other men had been telling him.
 
A loud pop echoed in the lobby, and Mack only had seconds to react.
 
He jumped towards the man, not even getting out a warning, and then just as quickly fell to the floor.
 
Another pop sounded and then a flurry of activity broke out.

Mack wheezed, and tried to stand, but seemed unable to catch his breath.
 
He lifted his head and watched Percevel’s eyes glass over as blood spread across the man’s chest.
 
Then the Prime Minister fell to the floor.
 
His assassin stood by the door, unmoving, guns still in hand.
 
Mack’s side ached fiercely.
 
He placed a hand against it and attempted a deep breath.
 
Instead he ended up coughing uncontrollably.
 
He lifted his hand and saw blood smeared on it.
 

“Help,” he tried to yell, but it came out more of a weak whisper.
 
Mack lifted his head, but the men were blurring.
 
He tried to push himself up, but dizziness washed over him.
 
He squinted his eyes and thought he recognized a familiar face.
 
“Gabe,” he called two times before the man in question looked over.

“Mack?”

Mack let his head fall back on the marble floor and waited for oblivion to come over him.

“Mack!”
 
The voice sounded a long way off.
 
He felt something push firmly against his side.
 
“I need help over here!”

“Don’t let Grandmother see me like this.”

“Grandmother is the least of your worries, old man.”
 

Mack smirked followed by a grimace of pain, then the darkness blessedly rolled in on him.

***

Four Weeks Later

“What is it?” Stuart McKenzie barked at the sound of a tepid knock on his office door.

“Pardon the interruption, sir, but the young woman is here.”

“Tell her the same thing as always.”

“But sir, it has been almost a year.
 
Can’t you just…”

“No, I can’t, Mr. Preston.”
 
Mack’s silvery eyes met the younger man’s without blinking.

“Yes, sir.”
 
The timid man backed out of the director’s office.
 
He turned to the beautiful blonde
 
that patiently sat in a chair near his desk.
 
She had sat in that same chair once a week for the last year, wanting to speak to Director McKenzie.
 
Every time, she left disgruntled because he could not be bothered to speak to her.
 
“Miss Graham,” Mr. Preston began.

“Let me guess, Mr. Preston.
 
Director McKenzie is too busy to once again speak to me in regards to my missing father.
 
I shall see you next week.”
 

Mr. Preston watched the woman as she stood, turned, and regally left the office.
 
There were times when he felt the man he worked for was truly an arse, and this was one of those times.
 
He was a ruthless, Scottish brute, and it came out most specifically when dealing with his job as Director of the War Office.
 
The secretary shot a look at the closed door and then returned to his desk.
 
He began shuffling through the mail when a courier entered the room, breathless.

“I have an urgent message for Director McKenzie sent from Lord Bathurst.”

“I’ll take it.”

“I’ve been told to put it directly in his hands, no one else’s.”
 

“Director, you have a missive.”

“Send him in.”

“Mr. Preston.
 
How is his attitude today?” A strikingly handsome man, that favored the director quite a bit, entered the office.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” Preston bowed low.
 
Upon exiting the office, and hearing he was in the presence of a duke, the courier dropped a quick, respectful bow then left to complete his duties.
 
“As surly as ever,” Mr. Preston answered his question.

“I heard that,” a voice called from the inner-office.
 
“You all speak of me as if I can’t hear a bloody word you say, but I can.”
 

“Preston, can you get us some coffee?”

“Of course, Your…” At that moment a string of curses and things being slammed and thrown about could be heard coming from the director’s office.
 

“Go on, I’ll brave the bear.”

The Duke of Hawkescliffe made his way into Director McKenzie’s office.
 
Papers were strewn everywhere and some were still fluttering to the floor.
 
Several heavy objects lay on the floor, including a broken lamp.
 

“You better have that cleaned up before someone sets fire to this building using your office.”

“Bugger off, Gabe.”

“Now, is that any way to address a duke?”

“Pardon me.
 
Bugger off,
Your Grace
.”
 

“That’s better.
 
Now, brother dear, what has you in such a tizzy this morning?”

“Where shall I start?
 
Let’s see, there is the fact that every Monday morning at the same exact time, Sir Graham’s daughter sits in my secretary’s office demanding to see me.
 
She does this because she wants to know where her father is.
 
Does she not realize we are in the midst of war?
 
That we are trying to save the old man’s life?”

“Have you told her this?”

“I shouldna have to!
 
She should know this,” Mack growled, his Scottish brogue becoming even more pronounced.

“Sometimes women…”

“Need to stay out of matters they have no understanding of!
 
And now the bloody Americans have decided to declare war on us.”

“What?”

“Yes,” he flung the paper across the desk to his half-brother.
 
“I am in charge of fighting not just one bloody war, but two!
 
We have a new Prime Minister, thanks to that idiot Bellingham, who decided to assassinate Percevel. And I have a new person to answer to since Prinny put Liverpool in as Prime Minister.”

“And let’s not forget the assassination attempts.”

“There is that,” Mack acknowledged.

“You have been very lucky, thus far.
 
How much longer do you think your luck will hold out?
 
This last time was a near thing.”

“Another year or two?” Mack shrugged, chuckling, but holding his side.
 

“Don’t joke about this.”

“Look, Gabe, I know you are here because your wife and our Grandmother worries about me, but there is no need.”

“No need?
 
How many assassination attempts have you avoided in the last year and a half?”
 
Silence greeted Hawkescliffe.
 
“That’s right.
 
There have been too many to count.”

“The man responsible is dead.
 
And the last injury I sustained was in an attempt to save someone’s life, if you will remember.”

“I remember, but Mack you can’t keep avoiding the fact that someone wants you dead.
 
And when they don’t, you live your life recklessly, throwing yourself in danger’s path.
 
You are the director.
 
You have agents to do that.”

“I’m not avoiding the fact.
 
I fully acknowledge it, but I will not go into hiding like some coward.
 
Do you understand?
 
Sometimes my agents need my assistance.
 
And do you mean to tell me that if you had been close enough to try and save the Percevel you wouldn’t have done the same damn thing?”

“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it.
 
Now, sit down.”

“Why?”

“Liverpool is the one that sent me here today, not Mikala or Grandmother.”

“Liverpool?”

“Yes.
 
He and Bathurst believe you have pushed yourself too hard and should take some time off.”

“I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“Yes, brother, you did.
 
You only took a week off after being shot.
 
That’s not enough time to heal.”

“Of course it is,” he growled.

“Then why is it when no one is looking, you are holding your side?”