Long Road Home (26 page)

“In light of your testimony, and the countless documents and files that support your claims, we feel it would be a crime to prosecute you for your involvement.”

He paused and his expression softened.

“You’re free to go, Ms. Trehan. With our thanks.”

She sat there numbly, looking at him in disbelief. Could that really be the end of it? Finally? She was free to go?

Beside her, Agent Vasquez put an arm around her shoulders and helped her up. She looked at him, too, her lips trying to form the question.

“It’s over,” he said quietly.

She swayed precariously. Vasquez caught her before she fell and guided her toward the door. Once outside, she broke away and hurried for the bathroom. There, she leaned over a toilet and emptied the contents of her stomach.

She stood, braced against the toilet until her stomach stopped rolling. Slowly, she straightened and walked to the sink to rinse her mouth. Her reflection startled her. She looked like hell.

When she rejoined Vasquez in the hall, he looked at her in concern.

“Everything all right?” he asked as he took her arm.

She nodded.

They walked slowly down the long hall leading out to the main entrance. As they walked, Jules’s mind whirled. She had to find Manny. She looked up at Vasquez, knowing how stupid her request was going to sound.

“Agent Vasquez, do you…that is, do you know how I can get in touch with Manny Ramirez?”

She felt stupid for asking, but she didn’t even know where Manny lived.

A peculiar smile flashed across Vasquez’s face.

“I think I do, Ms. Trehan.”

He gestured toward the door. Jules looked up to see Manny standing there. Her heart tumbled and fell. She stopped in her tracks. Had he been at the hearing? Had he heard her testimony? The thought made her want to vomit all over again.

She curled and uncurled her fingers and tamped back the urge to flee from his scrutiny.

Then he simply opened his arms.

Tears flooded her eyes, and she flew across the room, launching herself at him.

He gathered her tightly against him. She buried her face in his neck and sobbed.

“Ah, baby, it’s okay. Don’t cry,” he soothed, stroking her hair.

Manuel glanced over Jules’s head at Agent Vasquez, who stared at them with something akin to satisfaction.

“Thank you,” Manuel said sincerely. “Thank you for looking out for her.”

Vasquez nodded. “You’re welcome. It was my pleasure. You take good care of this little lady.”

“I’m never letting her go again,” Manuel vowed.

The agent smiled and walked away, leaving Manuel and Jules alone.

Manuel hugged Jules to him and closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of her in his arms. He’d never felt such relief as when the Senate committee dismissed her. Watching the torture they’d put her through had damn near killed him.

He pulled her away from him and ran his eyes hungrily across her face. She was pale, her eyes rimmed with fatigue and pain, but she was beautiful. So very beautiful.

He bent his head and captured her lips in a long, delicious kiss. Then he hugged her to him again, just wanting to feel her against his chest.

“I missed you.”

She started crying again, and it tore at his soul.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Without caring what anyone watching thought, he picked her up and cradled her in his arms.

“Were you there?” she asked in a low voice.

He nodded. “I wouldn’t have missed it.”

She hung her head in shame, and anger coursed over his body. He set her down in the parking lot next to his SUV, then he tilted her chin up so she looked him in the face.

“I love you, Jules,” he said fiercely. “Do you honestly think hearing the hell you went through for the last three years changed that? God, I wanted to howl, I wanted to cry, I wanted to kill the bastards for what they did to you, but never,
never
did I think any less of you.”

She stared up at him. “Do you mean that?”

“Baby, if I was any more serious, I’d be lying in the hospital with a heart attack.”

“I love you so much,” she whispered.

“Marry me, Jules. Marry me, spend the rest of your life with me, have my babies, the picket fence, the whole nine yards.”

A glorious smile spread across her face. It was as though a ray of sunshine spilled across a frozen pond.

“Yes. Oh, yes.”

He fused his lips to hers once more. She curled her arms around his neck, and he anchored her body to him.

“There’s just one thing,” he said in between kisses.

“What’s that?”

“I sort of promised Tony we’d name our firstborn after him.”

She laughed, and he felt a thrill all the way down to his toes. She had such a beautiful laugh, and it had been so long since he’d seen her so full of joy.

“I’m home,” she said in an aching voice. “I’m finally home.”

“Yes, baby, you are. And I’ve been waiting for you all along.”

About the Author

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Maya Banks lives in Texas with her husband, three children and assortment of cats. When she’s not writing, she can be found hunting, fishing or playing poker. A southern girl born and bred, Maya loves life below the Mason Dixon, and more importantly, loves bringing southern characters and settings to life in her stories.

Check Maya’s website out at:
www.mayabanks.com

Email Maya:
[email protected]

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Look for these titles by Maya Banks

Now Available:

Colters’ Woman

Colters’ Wife

Colters’ Lady

Seducing Simon

Understood

Overheard

Undenied

Brazen

Love Me, Still

Into the Mist

Into the Lair

Stay With Me

Reckless

Golden Eyes

Amber Eyes

Songbird

One woman’s mission to bring down a sexy elemental shifter turns into a battle of wills…and hearts.

Into the Mist

© 2008 Maya Banks

Falcon Mercenary Group, Book 1

Hostage recovery specialist Eli Chance has a secret. He was born a shifter. A freak of nature.

While on a mission, Eli’s men and their mercenary guide are exposed to a powerful chemical agent, and suddenly his secret has become easier to hide. Now he’s not the only one with the gift. But for his men, this “gift” is becoming more and more of a curse.

Tyana Berezovsky’s brother Damiano was the guide for Eli’s team and was the worst affected by the chemical. As he grows increasingly unstable, Tyana fears she’s going to lose him to the beast he is becoming.

Tyana will do whatever it takes to help him, even if it means using her body to go after the one man she thinks holds all the blame—and possibly the cure. Eli Chance.

Warning: Violence, blood, guns, knives, ass kicking, people who do mean things, bad people dying, explicit sex and smart mouths.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Into the Mist:

And so it began.

Eli bit out a curse as one of the silent alarms was triggered. Though he’d been expecting company, he hadn’t expected it so soon.

She certainly could have picked a better time. One when both Ian and Braden weren’t off prowling the grounds looking for kitty food.

Then again, he might do well to be more worried about them than Tyana Berezovsky. She might shoot first and ask questions later.

Gabe was God knows where, having decided yesterday to disappear into the village down the mountain, probably in search of pussy. His parting words had been something to the effect that since Eli was so keen for Tyana to find his ass then he could deal with her when she got here.

Good help was hard to find and harder to keep.

None of the others seem to think Tyana posed any sort of threat. Eli knew better. To them she was just a woman. Easily handled, easily subdued.

He smiled. He was looking forward to the challenge.

Pulling his hair behind his neck, he secured it with a leather tie then reached for his shoes and tugged them on. He might as well either go save her from the cats or save the cats from her. One way or another, someone better damn well be grateful.

A quick glance of the infrared monitor told him she was slowly making her way toward the south entrance. The most obvious course would just be to meet her, but where would the fun be in that?

No, he was going to enjoy this. Savor it. He smiled again. And maybe before the night was over, he’d take the impending confrontation to the bedroom.

He stepped into the night and breathed deep of the chilly air. Quietly he slipped beyond the shadows cast by the glow of the interior lights. He went east, cutting a direct path to intercept her…from behind.

He closed his eyes and let go, embraced the faint mist, let it curl around him, and then he became the very air he breathed.

A faint breeze carried him through the trees. Ahead, he saw movement. He looked down as he floated above the figure clad in black.

She moved with grace and stealth, her movements slow and calculated. She made no noise, left no disturbance in her wake.

He contented himself with watching her, gauging her patterns as she stopped and patiently observed the area around her. He saw her shiver then look quickly back, and he wondered if she’d sensed him again.

He ventured closer, wrapping around her hair and whispering softly against the nape of her neck. A slight shift in the air alerted him to her movement. Silver glinted in moonlight as a knife appeared in her hand. With the other, she grasped the barrel of her rifle and hauled it over her shoulder to cradle in front of her.

A faint apparition, he wrapped himself around her in a veil of mist, faint trails of smoke curling around her wrists. Then he jolted back to his human form, his fingers like bands around her small bones.

She exploded in a flurry of motion. He went sailing over her shoulder and wondered again how the hell she always managed to get the drop on him no matter how prepared he was. He was starting to take it personally.

There was the wee little matter that he honestly wasn’t trying to hurt her, but still. He could have simply slit her throat, and he consoled himself with the fact that if he was a real bastard, he could have broken her neck.

But no, instead he was lying on the ground feeling like a goddamn sissy for being beaten up by a girl.

He started to pick himself up and found a boot pressed against his neck. He grabbed her ankle, yanked the knife out of the side sleeve then wrenched her back, making her fall.

They both bolted to their feet, knives in hand, and began circling.

“You’re late,” he said, though he wasn’t about to admit he hadn’t really expected her for a few more days.

“I had a few technical difficulties,” she said, and it was then, when she turned her head and a sliver of moonlight hit her face that he could see her split lip.

“Piss off one too many people, my love?”

She bared her teeth. “The last man to piss me off died in a Paris alley. I wouldn’t push my luck if I were you.”

“Isn’t that what you’re here to do, though? Kill me?”

He watched intently for any change, any flicker, some sign of what was going round that pretty head of hers. That incredibly stubborn, obnoxious, gorgeous head of hers.

“I’m pretty sure we’ve had this conversation before,” she said in a bored voice.

“Then what are you here for?”

He blinked, and she was in his face, her knee planted in his stomach and one fist buried in his ribs. He let out a growl of pain but didn’t budge. Instead he yanked her against him. She gasped in surprise and the knife fell from her hand.

When she brought her other knee up, he blocked it with his.

“You’re getting too predictable, love,” he murmured. “You have a morbid fascination with a man’s balls. Is that any way to treat such delicate equipment?”

She cursed in what sounded like four different languages. He recognized at least two and raised his eyebrows.

“And to think I’ve kissed that mouth.”

Her eyes glittered in the moonlight. Just before she reared back and head butted him.

Pain exploded over him. He let go and stumbled back, holding his nose as blood gushed. Jesus H. Christ. Bitch was vicious!

She took off in a dead run. He watched her leap like a damn gazelle over rocks and roots and disappear into the night.

He vaporized into smoke and streamed after her.

He materialized in front of her this time, stopping her in her tracks. She let out a disgusted grunt.

“Can’t beat the weak woman without resorting to your little smoke tricks?” she taunted.

He grinned and wiped more blood from his nose. “If you want me to apologize for pressing my advantage, you’ll be waiting a long time. If you’d just play nice, I’d invite you in for a drink…” he made a slow up and down sweep of her body with his gaze, “…and maybe show you just how hospitable I can be.”

“And you say
I
have an obsession with that part of the male anatomy.”

“I’m a man. We think with our dicks, remember?”

She responded with a quick jab. He dodged and punched back, connecting with her shoulder. It wasn’t enough to even knock her back, but he heard her quick intake of breath, and he frowned.

Then once again, he found himself staring up at the stars when she executed a lightning roundhouse kick to his jaw. And she was off again.

Damn but he must have it awfully bad for this chick to put this much effort into getting into her pants.

He got up, rubbing his jaw, and set off. She was making steady progress toward the house. What did she want? She wasn’t trying to kill him. Hurt him? Taunt him? Yes. But she was pulling her punches every bit as much as he was, and she hadn’t tried to filet him with the damn machete she called a knife.