KICK ASS: A Boxed Set (67 page)

She gazed at the baby with an expression that was halfway between fear and wonderment—the same exact expression he’d seen on Irika’s face when she had looked on Stefan for the first time.

“Wow,” she said.

“I could never have imagined,” he said, brushing his hand over his son’s warm cheek. “I thought I had won the greatest gift of good fortune when I reunited with my brother and fell in love with you. I never thought I could have my son back.”

“We’re going to have a heck of a time explaining all this to the authorities,” Mariah said, but the sardonic tone of her voice was softened when she reached out and swept a lock of Stefan’s hair off his forehead. “But we’ll figure something out. He’s beautiful, Rafe. I guess we both got more than we bargained for tonight.”

Rafe’s heart clenched in his chest. He loved Mariah with all his soul and knew she felt the same for him, but they’d never discussed the future.

“Does this change how you feel?” he asked.

“What?” She looked up, her eyes wide, but glossy. “The instant family? Automatic motherhood? I’m probably going to screw him up terribly. It’s not like I had much of a role model. But luckily,” she said, her voice rising an octave and taking on a singsong tone, “we have something in this century called
psy-cho-anal-y-sis
.”

The baby squirmed in Rafe’s arms. Rafe had no idea what Mariah was talking about, yet again, but he knew his son would be in good hands with her. She was, if nothing else, incredibly resourceful.

Suddenly she laughed. “Isn’t my mother going to be shocked when I go home to Australia with not only a husband, but a child? That’s what she gets for making nice with me. Instant grandmotherhood.”

Rafe’s heart soared at the thought that Mariah wanted to marry him, and though he suspected she did not require a traditional proposal, he would make one just the same. Soon. There was so much to consider. So much to comprehend. That fact that she loved him and adored his son made all the rest insignificant.

Mariah slid one hand onto his shoulder and, with the other, caressed Stefan’s pudgy arm. When the baby curled his fingers around hers, she gasped, then cooed. He could feel her apprehension, but her love was more powerful. Now that she’d opened the doors to the emotion, he suspected. her capacity for it would build to an immeasurable store. For both of them.

In the next half hour, Belthezor returned and, still mourning the loss of his daughter, took Stefan and guided the villagers upstairs while the authorities investigated the deaths of the men on the beach.

But, as the sun rose, Rafe could not resist venturing outdoors. Basking in the sunlight from a balcony overlooking the sea, he allowed the sunlight to warm his face for the first time in two hundred and sixty years.

“The coast guard is at the lagoon,” Mariah warned, though she joined him outside and tilted her beautiful face toward the bright morning sky. “We should stay inside until they’re gone. I promise you’ll have a thousand more mornings of sunshine to enjoy once we put all this behind us.”

Rafe was almost afraid to believe that circumstances had turned out as they had. In the rush of rounding up the Gypsies, mourning with his family for Irika and cuddling with his son, he’d been unable to fully understand something the
Chovihano
had said. He had not had a chance to discuss it with Mariah until now.

“He said Rogan saved them,” he said.

She bit her lip. “Maybe Rogan wasn’t as evil as you thought. Because of him, the Gypsies are alive—and so are you. And your son. All ready to start new lives.”

“I have absolutely no idea what to do with this new life,” he admitted.

Mariah slid her arms around his neck and kissed him long and leisurely, making sure she touched every single part of his mouth with her tongue and every part of his soul with her love. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

He held her tightly, lifting her in the jubilation of all he’d gained on account of Rogan’s curse. He now had a woman to love again, his child returned and his Gypsy family restored, as well as part of his
gadje
one. What more could a man want? What more did a man deserve?

“This could not have been the future you foresaw for yourself when you stole that stone from Valoren,” he said as Mariah led him to the grand staircase, a twinkle of desire lighting her amber eyes.

“It’s exactly what I foresaw,” she insisted. “I am a treasure hunter. And you, sir, are the greatest treasure a woman could ever find.”

************

Thank you for reading KISS OF THE PHANTOM! If you would like to read the previous two books in the Phantom series,
click here
to learn more about the other titles in this series.

DARE ME

Author's Note:
This story isn’t connected to either my
Dirty
or my
Phantom
series, but is a blend of suspense with sensual contemporary romance. Dare Me is a grand seduction where the hard-hearted Macy Rush must submit to a powerful man’s desires in order to save the world...

One

“The house is perfect. I’ll take it.”

Macy Rush waited for the real estate agent to respond, but wasn’t entirely surprised when her offer to purchase the Garden District home for twice its asking price went unheeded. From the minute she crossed the threshold, she’d smelled a set-up—a fact verified by the next voice she heard.

“That’s going to be a problem, Macy, since I already own this pleasure palace.”

Macy didn’t turn around. Only one man could set her on edge with one simple sentence. But in fighting her instinct to spin and knock his inevitably cocky grin off his face, her other senses zinged to high alert. Her skin rippled with gooseflesh, as if each individual pore was reaching out to touch him. His scent—a woodsy, spiced aroma tinged with the sweet smokiness of tobacco—intensified the prickle up the nape of her neck. The air crackled with electricity, as if he was a living conduit.

Powerful.

Dangerous.

“Dante Burke,” she said, announced, steeling herself as she turned. Seeing him again could knock her off guard—if she let it. But she’d die before she so much as a catch of her breath. He’d done his damage. She’d recovered and she had no intention of suffering a relapse. “Why am I not surprised?”

The woman who had shown her the house beat a quick path to the back door. Macy noted the retreat and then locked gazes with Dante, the man who had ripped her reputation, her career and her heart to shreds.

He was still gorgeous, damn him. Slick, dark hair pulled back into a queue. Rich, tanned skin that glowed from the St. Tropez sun. A lithe, muscled body accentuated by a suit that probably cost as much as the asking price of the house. Still breathtaking and consequently, still lethal—and still so full of himself, she wondered there was room for both and his ego in the expansive entrance hall.

Wordlessly, he gestured to the front parlor. When she didn’t instantly comply, he entered without her. He moved like James Bond, with a dash of Fred Astaire. She rolled her eyes. Only Dante Burke could manage to be insufferable when he’d done nothing more than walk into a room.

“Not surprised by my initiative? You shouldn’t be. Stands to reason that the Arm would beat T-45 to the most important property in New Orleans. Especially with world peace at stake. I bought the place two weeks ago.”

“And yet the house is still listed on the market,” she said, her hands inching into the pockets on her jacket. Beneath the slick leather, she caressed the cool steel of her backup firearm, a sleek 9mm Smith & Wesson Ladysmith. With her main weapon tucked in her shoulder holster and several alternative weapons strapped to various parts of her body, she should have felt entirely secure, even in Dante’s unsettling presence. But she had a good idea of why he’d beaten her here. He was about to seriously screw up her case.

Again.

“Why didn’t you remove the listing?”

“Friendly neighbors delivering casseroles can be such a nuisance. As long as there is no owner, there is no reason for the locals to nose about.”

He wandered toward the window. He’d likely spotted her fellow T-45 agents positioned across the street. They’d been ordered to watch her back. Lot of help they’d do her now. The enemy was within.

“You’re the first showing I’ve allowed,” he said, turning, his self-assured grin confirming her supposition.

Clearly, he knew why she was here. He’d likely come for the exact same reason.

“How gentlemanly of you,” she lied, “letting me see something you have no intention of letting me have.”

“I’m just that kind of guy.”

The slight European lilt in his voice fueled her ire and she had to force her lungs to take in air evenly. He hadn’t been overseas in years. Since birth, practically. And yet he still possessed that distinctly urbane air that had once attracted her all-American girl hormones.

Luckily for her, his past transgressions kept his allure in perspective. “Don’t get me started on the kind of guy you are, Dante. You won’t like my assessment.”

“I’ll just enjoy the sound of your voice.”

“Enjoy this then,” she snapped, starting toward the door. “You’re a son of a bitch who can’t be trusted. And now that I know you’re here, I’ll return to Paris and throw one hell of a party. With you in charge, the world
will
come to an end soon. And if it’s going out with a bang, then so will I.”

With the lightning fast reflexes that had propelled him to the top echelon of international intrigue, Dante grabbed her arm. But Macy was no slouch. She spun, ducked and rolled, ending her move with Dante’s arm pressed tightly against his back. He’d likely let her get the upper hand, but she wouldn’t refuse it.

“Don’t touch me,” she warned through clenched teeth. Her emotions raged, a lethal combination of anger, spite and fear. He wouldn’t control her again. Not ever again. If she allowed him even the slightest element of domination, he’d find ways to rule her entirely.

He answered with a whisper that was both smooth and hypnotic. “I plan to touch you extensively and intimately over the next few days, love. And you’ll let me. In fact, you’re going to beg me.”

She could break his arm. He’d hardly tensed his muscles against her counterattack. Probably didn’t think she meant business. Cracking a bone would prove otherwise.

But exacting revenge on her ex wasn’t her mission. She couldn’t allow her emotions to interfere. She needed the house. Short of brute force—and she was certain the three-story cottage was crawling with agents from the Arm who would relish the chance to take her down—she had to go a different route.

She released him, pushed him away roughly, though he barely stumbled. With utter coolness, he straightened the cuffs of his tailored shirt.

“You’re full of yourself, Dante.”

“That’s part of what you loved about me.”

“Once. I don’t make the same mistakes twice.”

He arched a dark brow, which only made his light gray eyes more piercing, more mesmerizing. “Don’t make such declarations so quickly. I haven’t offered you my deal yet.”

“I didn’t come here to deal,” she countered.

“No, you came here to buy this house so you could find the hidden code that might—might—avert a nuclear attack on the United States from unnamed terrorists who, at this moment, are threatening to hijack an abandoned missile silo somewhere in the vast Russian wilderness and use the forgotten warhead to start World War Three.”

So he did know her mission. Top to bottom, with every detail dispensed in his signature iced vodka voice.

Damn, damn, damn.

“They don’t have the silo, yet,” she pointed out. “Chances are, the Russians will stop them before they get that far.”

Dante laughed and Macy admitted, silently, that her faith was utterly ridiculous. The Russians were no longer a cold-war powerhouse. Since the break-up of the Soviet Union, the eastern bloc nations remained in horrible disarray. When T-45, an independent agency of Western operatives, received intelligence that a terrorist group was trying to secure an abandoned silo, they hadn’t been too worried. The silos had all been disarmed. Or so they’d been told.

Then the organization had been contacted by a consortium of Russian industrialists who confessed that while they’d pocketed the money paid to them by the struggling Russian government to disarm the silos, they’d left approximately one hundred live nukes in the most remote regions of the country. Too expensive and too hard to reach, they’d claimed by way of excuse. And now, too hard to effectively protect from an unnamed threat.

So the consortium hired T-45 to clean up the mess. It had been Macy’s team who had found evidence that a counter-code might exist—one that would render any previously determined launch codes useless.

Unfortunately, the mathematical fail-safe was proving difficult to find. Several potential locations existed, so she’d dispatched a team to each one. But she’d kept the likeliest location for herself, not knowing that her choice would lead her back into the scope and sights of Dante Burke.