Inferno (18 page)

“I’m terribly sorry, Marx, sir. I’ll fix something else.”

“No.”

She glanced up when Sebastian uttered the single, soft word from across the kitchen.

“No,” he repeated with a stern shake of his head. “Don’t you dare apologize, Taylor. You did the best you could with what you had to work with. I’m the one who sets the standards in this house, and if Marx has an issue with them, he can take them up with me. You have
nothing
to be sorry for.”

The director’s mouth quirked. His mammoth shoulders jerked as he folded his arms across the broad expanse of his chest. The buttons on the front of his uniform tilted with the strain. “Is that a fact, Sebastian? You’re taking your whore’s side over mine?”

Shutting the oven with one hand, he raked the other through his hair and gave a humorless laugh. “If that’s the way you choose to see it, who am I to argue?”

“Who indeed,” Marx repeated. “I told you this little game of house was going to end.”

Taylor took an uncertain step back as he whirled on her, one of his huge bear-sized paws extending in her direction.

“Give me the ring.”

She shook her head in denial. Cradling her hand against her chest, she took another step back. “No.”

“It wasn’t an option, Miss McAvay. Give me the ring, or I will drag you out of here and cut the damn thing off, finger and all.”

Words failed her and a jolt of raw terror zapped her system. She had no doubt the man meant what he said, but her heart reacted on its own accord. Clenching her hands tight, she balled them under her chin. The big man’s body seemed to tighten and curl in on itself, and for one petrifying moment, she was sure he was going to launch and make good on his threats.

The chilling click of a safety broke the silence. Her breath hitched as she caught sight of Sebastian’s gun. Marx’s spine snapped straight and he froze.

“Take one more step toward her and I will blow your fucking head off. Believe me, after the week I’ve had, you do
not
want to give me a reason. Get away from her
right now
and get the hell
out
of my house,” Sebastian warned in a menacing growl.

“Excuse me?” Marx asked. Seeming to regain some of his confidence and composure, he turned to confront the brushed chrome pistol with a raised brow.

“You heard me. Get your keys, grab your coat and shoes, and get off my property before I have security escort you out in pieces.”

The director’s broad shoulders jerked. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are talking to, but I would think very carefully if I were you. Proceed and I promise you, you will regret this decision.”

Sebastian offered a cold smile that fell short of easing the savage gleam in his eyes. “What’s that you always say?” he asked with a questioning tilt of his head. “Maybe someday, Marx. But today is not that day. Now
move
.”

The big bull of a man aimed an accusatory finger her way, but Taylor held her ground. Lifting her chin, she met the hatred in his eyes head on. One of his fists clenched and lifted, as if he meant to let it fly, but Sebastian stepped closer. Still trapped in the lethal sights of a Desert Eagle, Marx rethought the wisdom of his intentions. His jaw jutted with rage, and fury stamped his lined face as he stormed past her. Sebastian wasn’t taking any chances. Following in the wide berth of the commander’s shadow, he kept his pistol aimed.

It wasn’t until she heard the front door slam that Taylor released the breath she’d been holding. Her legs shook as she fumbled for the support of the counter behind her. Even a backwards truck stop waitress like her could sense the magnitude of what had just happened. Sick, heavy dread blanketed her, its presence cold and smothering. Sliding down the cabinet facing, she drew her knees to her chest with a miserable swallow.

This wasn’t good. This was bad. So bad. It was about as bad as things could get.

A few moments later, Sebastian returned. He stood over her in silence as he relocked the safety and returned his gun it to its rightful place at his side. Without a word, he lowered onto the floor beside her. Taylor tensed and turned her face into his shoulder as he drew her into his arms.

“It’s going to be okay, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. “He gone. Rupert and the rest of the staff escorted him out.”

“This is bad, Sebby. He hates me, and after what you just did, he’s going to want you dead.”

“Don’t worry about that, Taylor. Keep your head straight and stay focused on us. Concentrate on taking care of yourself and our baby.”

“I’m trying.”

“Don’t try. Just do. I know you don’t understand this, but part of him respects what I did. That’s the anger, the type of calculating killer SKALS wants to see. Marx just needs time to cool down. Everything will be okay.” He took her hand and absentmindedly stroked the ring on her finger. “Go ahead and order whatever sounds good to you. You know what I like. I have a phone call to make. When I’m done, we’ll talk. Okay?”

“Seb?”

“This is important, Taylor.”

She watched as he sprung to his feet and retrieved his cell phone from his pocket, already heading toward the privacy of his office. Plowing her still shaky hands through her hair, she scrubbed her scalp and tried to pull herself back together. She tried not to think about what the consequences of tonight would be—for either of them—but it was hard. So damn hard. If there was one thing she’d learned about SKALS and the men who ran it so far, it was that every action had a very definite reaction.

~*~*~*~

Sebastian paced the floor of his study, muttering in agitation beneath his breath. He’d tried Josh’s cell three times to no avail. His eyes darted to the decorative clock stationed above the mantel. It was almost six. His partner should have been home by now. He listened as the home phone hit its fourth ring, his hand tightening around his cell. The relief he felt when he heard the melodic notes of his sister’s voice was almost shattering.

“No time for greetings,” he interrupted. “Where is Josh?”

“He came home with a headache. He’s resting.”

“Put him on the phone, Monique.”

“Did you not just hear me?” she asked, her voice rising an octave in disbelief.

“I heard you. I don’t have time to worry about his boo-boos. We have bigger problems. Give him one of your Midols and put him on the phone,
now
.”

Perching on the edge of his desk, he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration as he listened to the ensuing voices on the other end. Several more precious seconds ticked by before his partner’s smooth baritone sounded on the other end.

“What’s going on, Baas?”

“You need to lock things down. Marx is probably on his way over there, and he’s not happy.”

Josh sucked in a sharp breath. “What the hell did you do now?” he asked, not bothering to mask his irritation.

“The guy dumped my dinner in the sink and threatened Taylor. You tell me.”

A long strand of curses followed on the other end of the phone. “You know what? You seriously need to get your head on straight. I’m not in this. If you pissed him off, that’s your problem, pal, not mine.”

Annoyed, he sprung to his feet and tried to keep the venom out of his voice. “You keep telling yourself that, but that’s my sister you’re shacked up with. I don’t care what you have to do, but you keep him out of that house and
away
from her.”

“This is exactly what I was talking about!” Josh yelled. “Why do you keep doing this? Why are you even putting me in this position? If you don’t care about yourself that’s one thing, but at least
try
to give a fuck about the rest of us.”

“I do,” he stated quietly. “More than you know.” Deathly silence reigned. “Just keep her safe. One way or another, I will make this up to you. I promise.”

“And just how in the hell are you going to do that?”

“I will do whatever it takes to protect my family, Josh. You know that. Just promise me you will do the same.”

“Yeah. Okay. Are we done?”

“Goodnight, Josh.”

Sebastian closed his eyes for a brief second as he disconnected the call. The stress and pressure lately was becoming too much. Reaching over, he poured himself a stiff drink, downed it with a grimace, and wandered back into the kitchen in search of Taylor. His eyes raked over the spacious area, including the great room upon finding it vacant. She wasn’t on either of the leather couches or the plush chair where she liked to curl up sometimes to read. A quick glance outside revealed an unoccupied deck as well. Frowning, he bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. His heart hammered as he flung open the doors to the master suite. Still no sign of her. He crossed the bedroom and peered into the bathroom. Nothing. Raking a hand through his curls, he charged back out into the hall and called her name.

He was just about to key in the coordinates on her necklace when movement below drew his attention. She’d popped the lid to the trash was dumping the last of the broken soap dispenser off the dust tray by the time he entered the kitchen. Taking it from her hands, he set it aside and steered her into the living room.

He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her temple, drawing the sensual scent of warm vanilla and cashmere deep into his lungs in an attempt to calm himself down again. “Did you call something in?” he asked.

“Yeah. I ordered a Mediterranean pizza and some wings.”

“That sounds good.”

She shrugged and tucked her legs under her. Keeping her gaze averted, she picked at the hem of her dress. “He wants to hurt me, doesn’t he?” she asked.

Sebastian let his head fall back to rest against the back of the couch. The muscles along his jaw twitched as he debated an answer. “He wants to hurt me, Taylor. You just happen to be an unfortunate byproduct of that agenda.”

She folded her hands then wrung them in her lap. “I don’t know what to do here, Seb. What to say.”

“I already told you what to do, baby,” he said, threading his fingers through hers. “As for what to say, just tell me you love me. Tell me you’ll be careful, but most importantly, tell me you’re going to stay.”

“You know I will, Sebastian,” she assured him, closing her eyes.

“I’m going to take care of this, Taylor. All of it. He’s not going to hurt you. I won’t let him destroy us. I promise.”

She nodded against his shoulder. He held his breath, waiting, as the precious seconds ticked by.

“It’s not us I’m worried about,” she finally admitted, her voice a strained whisper that barely met his ears. “It’s the rest of the world, Seb. I’m worried about what’s going to happen if Marx goes through with his plans and where that future will lead.”

His chest rose and fell with his reluctant sigh. As selfish, cold, and uncaring as he could be, the burden of those things rested heavily on his shoulders as well. It was hard to make promises when the future was so bathed in uncertainty but, right now, words were all he had.

“I’m not going to let that happen,” he assured her. “I will take care of it, Taylor. One way or another, Marx’s reign is coming to an end.”

“How is that possible, Seb? If something happens to him, you are going to be the first person everyone looks at. They aren’t going to believe you did it to save them or your organization. They’re going to think you just wanted to take over and sit in his place.”

“Believe me, sweetheart, that is the last place in this world I would want to be.”

“I know that,” she said, peeking up at him to meet his steady gaze. “But do they?”

Frowning, he shrugged. Probably not, but taking Marx out seemed to be the only option left anymore and that task wouldn’t be easy. The commander seldom left headquarters, and there wasn’t a moment that passed anymore when the pompous prick didn’t have security close by his side. He knew he was pushing buttons and testing boundaries. He knew other agencies were looking on, watching, just waiting for him to make a mistake so they could take him down and skewer his head on a stick.

The mere visual of which made him smile.

Blowing out a heavy breath, Sebastian wondered how many of his teammates would back him. With new recruits streaming in almost daily now, the odds were no longer tipped in his favor. Or were they?

He thought about the man who’d tried to recruit him so many years ago. Life could have been so different, so much easier and less complicated if he had taken that path and stayed planted in the FBI. It was a stretch, but he might have even turned out to be a semi-decent human being. He shook his head, scattering the wistful notions. No. Like it or not, something inside him needed the violence and release SKALS offered. Despite what Taylor wanted to believe that seething darkness was a large part of who he was. He would never be ‘normal’ or fit into the neat little boxes and perimeters of society. He’d never be considered socially acceptable or sane—just an ugly little necessity that was best kept secret.

It was too late to turn back. But maybe it wasn’t too late to move forward. Jack had been looking for assurances last night. He was fishing, hoping for some confirmation on where they might stand. Perhaps it was time to give the Feds what they were looking for. His hands were tied, but theirs were free. It was a risky maneuver, a shaky gamble at best, but it was all he had. With any luck at all, they would play along. He needed Marx out of the picture. He needed the bastard dead.

He turned his attention back to Taylor. Her eyes met his and a renewed wave of determination swept through him as he covered her stomach with his hand.

“Thank you for standing up to him tonight,” she said. “For keeping us safe.”

His lips curled into a pensive smile before he kissed the top of her head. “You don’t have to thank me, baby. I will always do whatever it takes to be with you and keep you safe. Always. I’ve spent a lifetime waiting for this,” he said, stroking reverent fingertips across her belly, “and I refuse to let anything take it away.”

“So with love comes the death of duty?” she asked, quoting the most recent show they’d seen.