Killer Secrets (46 page)

Fucking her was imperative, stripping away reality and
filling it with the pleasure, the erotic sense of

belonging that only came from possessing her. That need
filled every particle of his being.

She was a part of him. He filled her body and she filled
his soul, and God help him but the thought of

losing her was destroying him.

"Hold me," he whispered, knowing he had whispered
those words before, knowing he had needed her

like this all his life.

"Always." Her voice shattered his control.
"Always."

He plunged inside her, thrusting hard and deep, feeling her
explode around him as his semen jetted inside

her, filling her, marking her, a part of him held forever
inside her.

Even as the last shudders of release rippled down his
spine, he couldn't let her go. The water streamed

over them now, washing along their bodies, steamy,
relaxing, but the thought of easing his flesh from hers

had him clenching in denial. He wanted to hold her like
this forever. Right here. Hold the world at bay

and deny the knowledge that anything existed outside the
two of them.

"Water's gonna get cold." That Southern drawl was
lazy, relaxed, filled with satiation.

Ian grunted in response, his face still buried at her neck,
his tongue stroking across her flesh occasionally

just to feel the little ripples of response beneath her
skin.

She didn't say anything more, just held on to him, her
hands stroking along his neck as he fought to gain

the strength to pull away from her.

His head lifted and he stared into her eyes, holding on to
her as she found her footing on the shower

floor. Deep, dark gray orbs ringed in ocean blue. Like a
fairy, or one of those damned pixies his mother

had been forever telling him stories about when he was a
child.

"You're my weakness." He acknowledged the reality
of it with the words.

"You're my strength. And I'm yours, Ian. We'll fight
better, stronger, together. Don't try to send me

away." Somber determination glittered in her eyes.
"I won't leave."

He hadn't even realized what he intended to do until she
said the words.

"I'll be distracted."

"You'll be distracted even worse when I take a
two-by-four to your head after this is over. I won't be

protected. I'm not a hothouse flower and I'm not a
weakness. I know how to defend myself and you

know it. Start this again and I'll make sure you're limping
when you face Diego this morning."

She was a wildcat. Pride swelled within him as she faced
him, more determined, willful, and confident

than any woman he had ever known.

"Muriel's going to die this morning," he warned
her. "I can't risk him informing Sorrell that we know he's

a plant. I'm killing him."

He had learned lessons since taking over the reins of the
cartel. Never give them time to get a message

out. In this world, take an enemy prisoner and it was the
same as giving them a knife to cut your throat.

He wouldn't risk it. Not with Kira's life on the line as
well. And taking out Muriel was one less

drug-running, innocents-destroying bastard left to breathe
precious air.

He knew Muriel's guilt. Knew the crimes he had committed,
just as Ian knew he was taking the task of

judge and jury onto his own shoulders.

He nodded. Pulling two washcloths from the small shelf
above the shower head he handed her one and

kept the other for himself.

"We finished this then. Let's shower and get to
it."

Kira dressed for battle. She wore soft figure-hugging tan
leggings, a matching cotton tank top, and ankle

boots made for comfort as well as endurance. She wore a
shoulder holster beneath a matching dark

brown blazer, but anyone with eyes, or experience, would
realize she was armed.

Diego sure as hell didn't miss it. As they stepped into the
small office he used, his head turned from

where he sat with his cousin Muriel, the traitorous
bastard, his brow lifting as he met Kira's gaze, then

Ian's.

"She's armed?" There was an edge of condescension
in his voice as he directed the question to Ian.

"She's not the first woman to go to war with her
lover." Ian's voice snapped with ire as he strode across

the room and, as Diego's expression turned to disbelief,
used the butt of his pistol against the back of

Muriel's head.

The other man slumped against his chair, his coarse black
hair feathering over his swarthy features. He

was unconscious before he knew what hit him. Diego was out
of his seat, suspicion tightening his features

even before he pinned Ian with black, furious eyes.

"What has he done?"

Kira could tell Ian was surprised by the question. It
flickered in his gaze for only a second before he

motioned Deke over.

"Strip him. Make certain he's not wearing a skin tag
then have him bound and held in the basement. I'll

deal with him later," Ian ordered Deke.

The bodyguard wrestled the broad Colombian from his chair,
hefted him over his shoulder, and left the

room. Trevor, Mendez, and Cristo placed themselves in
defensive positions around Ian and Kira.

Diego's gaze tracked their movements before he turned back
to Ian.

Suave, dressed in dark slacks and a white silk shirt, his
black and gray hair still full and pulled back to

his neck and bound with black elastic, the father stared
back at the son coolly.

"I believe I asked you a question, Ian," he
stated. "What has he done?"

Ian lifted the file he carried in the other hand and
slapped it down on the table between the two chairs

Diego and Muriel had occupied.

"He's been giving Ascarti, and in turn Sorrell,
information on the entire network. I told you to keep this

son of a bitch out of the loop. Do you remember that,
Diego?"

Despair flashed in Diego's black eyes as he sat down slowly
and opened the file. In living color, the

pictures were displayed before him.

Kira glanced at Ian's face and swore she saw a flash of
regret, but it was gone as quickly as it had come,

and had been missed by Diego as his attention centered on
the photos.

"There was no need for him to betray us," Diego
whispered heavily. "I would have given him whatever

he asked for."

"Now you can give him what he deserves," Ian
snapped. "Or I will."

Diego's lips twisted bitterly as he lifted his gaze to Ian.
Kira saw the pain, a flash of anger, and a

soul-deep sadness she knew the other man had no right to
feel.

"I cannot kill a maid who would give this information
to our enemies, but I may kill my cousin who was

like a brother to me since his birth?"

"You demanded the right to seek retribution." Ian
shrugged. "You can take it, or as I said, I will. I have

no problems killing the bastard. Liss was another story,
Diego, and you don't want to remind me of that

one."

"Then you may have the pleasure." Diego shook his
head wearily.

"Growing soft, pop?" Ian snapped. "Maybe it
will help you to know that Muriel was behind the attempt

to blow my limo to hell last week. If that doesn't faze
you, try the meeting with the Misserns and the

fucking assassin waiting for me there. He's going to die,
and he's going to die before he can contact his

good friend Ascarti again and warn him that we're on to
him."

Diego's eyes narrowed. "You have proof of Ascarti's
involvement with Sorrell?"

"I have something a hell of a lot better than
that," Ian growled. "I need you ready to move at a moment's

notice. When the call comes in we'll be meeting with
Sorrell himself, and we'll end this war once and for

all."

Ian was frighteningly cold. Kira watched him warily, seeing
the fury he had kept under control for so

long edging to the surface now.

Diego, Jansen Clay, and Sorrell had taken great delight in
torturing Nathan Malone, the SEAL they had

held for more than a year and half. Ian knew Diego had been
involved in the torture, knew he condoned

it and added to it even after Sorrell had believed the SEAL
had been killed.

Regret might be a fragile light buried somewhere deep
within him, but she knew in that moment that

Diego was a dead man walking.

"And you have arranged this how?" Diego moved
from his chair to the bar across the room, his hand

shaking, Kira noticed, as he poured himself a drink and
brought it to his lips.

It was tossed back quickly and another poured before he
turned back to Ian, his brow lifting in question.

"I believe I asked you for details, son."

Kira saw the slight tension that tightened Ian's shoulders,
the natural defensive block against the flinch

that nearly betrayed his disgust at that word.

She could feel his pain. She couldn't see it, but she ached
for him. Ached because this man was his

father, this monster that shed blood, filled children with
drugs and destroyed lives without a thought to the

tragedies that resulted from his actions.

Ian faced this man daily. Faced the horror and the
agonizing realization that he had come from this man's

seed. Kira wondered if she could have borne that pressure
without breaking, and knew she couldn't

have. Something inside her would have died had she been
forced to play the game Ian was playing.

"I don't have details for you, pop." Ian's voice
was savage. "I have something he wants now, and he'll

come for it."

Brutal fire flickered in Ian's gaze then. "I'll take
care of your cousin, you get ready to move, we may have

to leave at a moment's notice."

"You are allowing me to play now?" Sarcasm filled
Diego's voice. "What? Hell has frozen over? To what

do I owe this glorious surge of allegiance that you would
finally involve me in my own business?"

Pain. Kira watched the pain that burned in Diego's eyes as
Ian mentioned killing Muriel.

"Give it up, pop. I promised you, when the time came
we'd do this together, and that's what we're

doing," Ian snapped, the disrespect in the title
nearly causing Kira to flinch now. If she didn't know Ian as

well as she did she might believe he was enjoying this. But
she saw the subtle shifts of color in his eyes,

saw the tension that tightened his body.

Diego stared at him silently, his face creased with sorrow,
before he nodded wearily and turned back to

the bar. The room was thick with tension, with the powerful
opposing force of the two men and the

connections that bound them, as well as set them on
opposite courses.

For Kira, it was heartbreaking, though she knew to Ian it
was finally the beginning of the end of this

mission, the end of the lifestyle he had been forced to
live and the blood that was shed daily.

Ian fought the knowledge that Diego was hurting, fought the
memories, the pain of regret as he relived

the times he too had been betrayed by those he had trusted.
Not that it had happened often; Ian had

never been a particularly trusting sort. But he knew the
pain, the shame, he knew how it cringed inside

the soul and left a lasting scar.

How Diego Fuentes could feel such shame because of a
betrayal, Ian wasn't certain. The man should

have burst into flames and died a thousand deaths from the
horrors he had perpetuated over the years.

Hope lit a fragile light in Diego's eyes though as Ian told
him they would be working together. Like a

child that had been kicked one time too many, the older man
quickly hid the emotion.

What the fuck was he doing? Ian asked himself. He should
have never taken this mission, should have

never put it into action in the first place. He should have
just put a rifle scope on his ass and pulled the