Lethal Nights Read online

  “Emma Jane? Are you well?” She was fine, he assured himself.

  “Dragon?” Her voice shook, fear and shock still filling it. “I’m not hurt, but…” Her voice trailed off and silence filled the line for a moment. “I’m scared, Ilya.”

  And her fears hadn’t been eased after she’d called Ivan. She had her family surrounding her and Ivan’s promise to send help, but still he could hear the fear in her voice as well as in her words.

  “I’m coming, honey,” he promised, his voice gentling without thought. “I’ll be there soon. I promise. I’ll take of this, Emma Jane. I won’t allow you to be harmed.”

  A hit of breath, a smothered sob. “Okay.” He heard the shaky breath she took. “Thank you.”

  The line disconnected and it was all he could do not to throw the phone, to curse, to rage.

  He’d done all he could to ensure no one knew the effect she had on him and still she was in danger. God help whoever had attempted to take her from him, because they were living on borrowed time.

  chapter three

  It was nearly noon the next day before Emma found a chance to check her bedroom with any semblance of calm, and what she saw there had her heart racing with renewed fear. The walls were peppered with gaping holes, her mattress appeared shredded, while the rest of the room was littered with drywall and mattress filling as well as the shattered remnants of her bedside lamp and the table it had sat on.

  The window was now boarded up. Evidently, the shooters found as much offense with the glass there as they did with her bed.

  Dammit, fixing this wasn’t going to be easy.

  She propped her hands on her hips and began mentally listing everything that had to be done, who she could get to do it, and what they’d charge.

  As she’d told Ivan Resnova, one of the owners of the security agency she’d signed with to provide a safe house if needed, she’d cover the costs. She had no choice; it hadn’t happened while one of their clients was there. She had yet to actually provide a service to them, so it couldn’t have been their fault.

  He hadn’t said anything. He’d just made a rather noncommittal humming noise that had made her a bit nervous. She didn’t know if he believed her when she told him there was no way the information could have leaked that her home was a safe house for the security agency, Brute Force. How could it have? No one had stayed there yet.

  And she sure hadn’t told anyone. She wasn’t prone to discussing her life with those few who claimed to still be her friends, or her family, so she sure wouldn’t have told anyone else. Besides, she’d promised not to. She didn’t have much left that she could call her own but her word. She wasn’t about to allow that to be stripped bare as well.

  After hanging up with Ivan Resnova, she hadn’t been able to help herself. She’d called her dragon. He wasn’t hers, no woman could hope to hold a man like Ilya Dragonovich, but still, she couldn’t help but think of him as her dragon.

  Even if he wasn’t hers.

  There were days that she wondered what she could claim as hers though.

  Even her home wasn’t fully her own. To save it from foreclosure, she’d signed it over as a safe house whenever needed to the Brute Force Security Agency, owned in part by the Resnova Corporation. Who had suggested to the owner, Ivan Resnova, that she’d perhaps be interested in doing so she wasn’t certain. She didn’t even try to find out. She was simply thankful they had.

  When the Resnova legal counsel, Ilya Dragonovich, had shown up on her doorstep and made the offer, she’d been leery at first. It was her cousin’s husband, one of the few people outside of family whom she trusted, who had assured her Ilya Dragonovich wouldn’t betray her. Ever.

  He could never be hers either.

  Men like Dragonovich didn’t tie themselves to the girl next door. The tabloids were filled with pictures of him with models, actresses, the rich and famous. He was so far out of her league as to be ridiculous.

  He was an orgasm waiting to happen though.

  He certainly wasn’t like any man she’d ever dealt with, that was for damned sure.

  “You should pack some things and go stay with Mom and Dad for a while,” her brother, Ronan, spoke from behind her, his voice quarrelsome.

  That whole big-brother syndrome was starting to get on her nerves.

  “This is my house, I’m not going anywhere,” she reminded him, shooting a frown at him as he leaned against the doorway beside her.

  Ronan glared at her, his brown eyes narrowing as he tried to come up with an argument he thought would convince her. She was sure that worked with all the other women he knew, but he was her brother. She knew him for the softie he actually was.

  “Give it up, Ronan,” she suggested, giving a little roll of her eyes. “If Mom and Dad can’t convince me, neither can you.”

  Besides, her dragon was on his way.

  He’d promised her.

  She looked around her room once again. Sleeping was going to be iffy for a while. The nights would be harrowing if by chance Ilya didn’t show up. How she would actually survive another invasion to her home she wasn’t certain. One thing she knew, she wouldn’t hide in the bathtub again.

  “EJ,” her brother tried again. “This was serious business, sweetheart…”

  “And I’m serious, Ronan, I’m not leaving my home and I won’t further risk Mom and Dad’s safety by staying with them.” The very thought of it terrified her.

  The sheriff’s deputy was in the hospital with a knife wound. It could have been so much worse. The men rushing out the back door as he came up on it could have killed him. She knew his wife, he had kids, he and Ronan were friends. The knowledge that he could have died because of her filled her with guilt.

  Ilya was coming, she promised herself again. He’d promised she would be safe. Not that it was his responsibility considering he had yet to even send anyone there who needed to hide, but he’d promised. And he’d called her honey.

  “This is crazy, Sis,” Ronan tried again, his tone angrier this time. “If we hadn’t shown up when we did, some crazy bastard would have killed you. Is that what you want?”

  She wasn’t going to yell, she promised herself. If she got into a shouting match with him, she’d end up losing her temper. Losing her temper with her family never worked out. She ended up feeling guilty, then she’d give in to them. She couldn’t do that this time.

  No matter how much she wanted to run and hide, it simply wasn’t going to work right now. Anyone that determined to kill her would only follow her.

  “What I want is to keep my home safe and figure out who it was and why,” she told him, her voice highly reasonable, she thought. “I can’t do that if I run and hide.”

  “You can’t do it if you’re dead either.” Ronan’s voice rose and Emma forced herself not to flinch.

  If she flinched, then she had to admit that the past owned more of her than she admitted to. It would weaken her, and she couldn’t let it weaken her ever again.

  “She looks very much alive to me.” Faintly accented, deep, like black velvet and midnight mysteries, the voice came from the staircase behind them and had her and Ronan both turning quickly to it.

  Relief slammed into her with a force that nearly stole her breath.

  Before Emma could blink, Ronan pushed her into the bedroom behind him, blocking her with his much larger body and ensuring she couldn’t be seen. Instead, she peeked around him and gave her dragon an apologetic, if rueful, smile.

  “Who the hell are you?” Ronan demanded, and she could just imagine her brother’s expression.

  “Ilya Dragonovich. As I explained to your parents when I drove in, I’m a friend of Emma Jane’s. I came as soon as I heard that there had been a break-in,” and didn’t he sound so convincing?

  Emma felt a shiver run up her spine as Ilya shot her a little wink and that almost smile he did so well.

  “Ronan, move,” she ordered her brother as she tried to push past him.

  “You’re
no friend of Emma’s.” Ronan held her back despite her attempts to push past him. “I know all Emma’s friends.”

  Ilya’s brow arched. Black as pitch, terribly mocking, and far too confident as his icy pale green gaze flicked back to her brother.

  “Evidently, you do not,” he stated as he stood at the top of the stairs, relaxed, almost lazily amused.

  “Dammit, Ronan, move.” Emma pinched his side hard enough that he flinched, but he didn’t move. “I know him. Stop making a fool of me in front of him.”

  “Never fear, Emma Jane, I know you far too well for that,” Ilya assured her, sounding too amused and far more familiar than she was certain they were.

  She shot him a dubious look from beneath Ronan’s arm.

  “Ronan, I swear to God, if you don’t move, I’m going to kick you.” This was too embarrassing.

  But her brother moved, albeit slowly, watching Ilya suspiciously.

  “Who the hell is this, EJ?” he demanded as she moved into the hall. “And how exactly do you know him? You never mentioned him to me.”

  “There’s a lot I don’t tell you,” she muttered, shooting him a silencing look.

  “Emma Jane and I met last year at the job fair she attended,” Ilya lied, and he did it oh so smoothly. Even his pale green eyes lied as he stared back at her as though they’d shared far more than a kiss.

  Like he knew her more than he actually did know her.

  It was all she could do to think. To breathe.

  The tattoo at the side of his face seemed to flex dangerously, almost as though it were a separate entity, watching her as it glared a warning.

  His thick black hair was cut almost military short, while his darkly tanned skin made the color of his eyes stand out even more. He was a shade taller than Ronan’s six feet, two inches, and muscular. The white shirt and low-slung jeans he wore just emphasized his powerful build and made her mouth water.

  She knew just how hard, how warm, he was when he was pressed against her, his lips on her, his tongue in her mouth …

  “EJ…” her brother began, his tone low, warning.

  “Stop making me look bad, I told you,” she huffed, fighting to keep her own composure. “He’s a friend.”

  She moved away from Ronan, intending to step past Ilya and, she hoped, to get them all downstairs where she didn’t feel so hemmed in. But as she moved to pass him, his hand touched her arm in the gentlest caress, stopping her in her tracks.

  Her head jerked up, and she felt her lips part as she tried to remember how to think.

  “You’re unharmed?” he asked, his tone low, seductive.

  She felt the intimate promise that throbbed beneath his voice like a ghostly brush against her flesh and fought to hold back a shiver.

  “I’m fine, Dragon.” Geez, didn’t she sound all bedroom voicy? She flushed at the knowledge and cleared her throat, hoping it would help. “I promise.”

  She wanted to tell him she was just scared, terrified, but as she stared up at him she couldn’t find the words.

  “Someone nearly splattered her blood all over her bedroom, that’s not fine to me,” Ronan protested, stalking toward them, glowering at her.

  “Nor is it fine to me.” Something hard and icy flashed in his eyes as he turned his gaze to her brother. “But reminding her of it simply to weaken her isn’t exactly good form either, I’d say.”

  His hand slid back from her arm. She nearly shivered at the lack of the warmth.

  “Let’s take this downstairs, Ronan. I need some coffee and I’m certain Ilya really doesn’t want to listen to us argue.” She slid quickly past Ilya. For one insane moment she just wanted to press herself against him, feel his warmth all over.

  She hadn’t even realized she was cold until he touched her.

  “Your manners are slipping,” Ronan berated her as they reached the wide front hall. “You didn’t even introduce us.”

  “For a reason,” she assured her brother, leading the way to the kitchen. “Why don’t you go find Dad? I’ll fix some coffee.”

  “He’s speaking to the sheriff in the front drive,” Ilya spoke up. “I introduced myself when I arrived.”

  Emma Jane almost came to a stop as she entered the kitchen but forced herself to cross the wide, cheerfully sunny room to the counter where the coffeepot waited.

  Her dad was worse than Ronan. How had Ilya managed to get into the house without him following and demanding answers she was certain Ilya wouldn’t have?

  “Emma…” Ronan’s voice was a grumble of displeasure.

  “Would you please stop.” She turned, still gripping the counter desperately, needing just a minute to figure out what was going on, what Ilya had told her father, because God help both of them if their answers didn’t match. “Just go … just for a minute, Ronan. Please.”

  She met his worried gaze and felt like the worst sister in the world. No brother should have to go through what hers was going through. Ronan had always tried to protect her and felt he’d failed her the few times she hadn’t told him she needed protecting. Like their father, he couldn’t seem to realize she had to make her own choices, her own decisions.

  Ronan grimaced at the plea. “Five minutes,” he finally bit out from between clenched teeth. “I’ll go find Dad.”

  She waited until the front door closed before hurriedly crossing the room and checking the hall to be certain he left. Assured he was indeed outside, she turned back to Ilya slowly.

  “How did you get past Dad?” She stared up at him, uncertain what to do, how she should act.

  “The sheriff vouched for me, and Nik called him as I arrived.” He shrugged as though it didn’t matter. “I told him the same thing I told your brother. We were friends, we met at the job fair the week Nik hired you, and we’ve seen each other several times since. When I heard the report of trouble here, I rushed back to town with my friend Sawyer, in case you needed help. Sawyer’s an agent with Brute Force, currently on medical leave.”

  “Have I met him before?” She hissed the question as she stalked back to the coffeepot. “God, don’t get me in too deep with the stories here. I try real hard not to lie to my family.”

  “Omission is not the same?” he asked behind her with an edge of amusement.

  “With my family, omission is self-preservation,” she assured him. “Now, do I need to know anything else before they come back?”

  His brow arched, and she didn’t completely trust his suddenly curious expression. It reminded her of a male cat she once had, just before he swatted a bowl to the floor just to see her reaction.

  “We’re lovers, and I’ll be staying here with you, along with Sawyer, to figure out why you were attacked. Can you handle that?”

  She froze.

  Yep, cat.

  Emma could feel her knees weakening, her lungs trying to fill with air. Hell, it was all she could do not to pinch herself to make certain she was awake. Instead, she gave her head a quick, hard shake and made herself fix coffee.

  “They’ll never believe that,” she all but wheezed out, the knowledge of certain destruction building in her chest. “I’d never take a lover without introducing him to my family first. Never. No way in hell can you lie like that.”

  She respected her family, respected the fact that they were family. Her parents and Ronan had always tried to protect her—they loved her. She’d never disrespect them like that. And they knew she would have never taken a lover before her divorce.

  “Make them believe it.” The order was made as though she had no other choice.

  Emma poured the water into the back of the coffeemaker, replaced the pot beneath it, then turned to face him. Her hands fisted into the material of her dress as she glared back at him.

  “I would never disrespect my parents and my brother by taking a secret lover, especially before my divorce,” she hissed angrily. “Come up with something else and do it quickly.”

  Quickly because Ronan would demand answers. And oh Lord, her parent
s would see right through that lie.

  “Very well,” he stated as she turned at the sound of the front door opening. “We’re going to become lovers.”

  Before she could disagree, before she could argue, she found herself swung into his arms, against that broad chest as one hand burrowed into her hair and his lips covered hers.

  Where she had been cold, she was suddenly warm all over. Toasty warm. Her hands dug into his waist, because she had no idea what to do with them. She just knew she had to hold on to him.

  With his lips, his tongue, he possessed her. It wasn’t simply a kiss, a man didn’t kiss a woman like this. He hadn’t even kissed her like this the first time.

  She’d never been kissed like this.

  This wasn’t a kiss. It was a sensual, carnal branding of her senses.

  And Emma Jane melted beneath it.

  She didn’t hear the front door opening, forgetting where she was and even forgetting who she was, as she lost herself in pure, stark pleasure. The whole exploding-stars, heart-racing, breath-stealing kind of pleasure that even the books she read had never described properly.

  One of those kisses.

  Yeah, the kind she’d never even suspected might exist.

  And all she could do was hold on as he gave her the most pleasure she’d ever known in her life.

  With just a kiss.

  And just as quickly as he’d stolen her senses, he released them. As he lifted his head and pressed hers to his chest, his arms, his warmth, surrounding her, she felt those incredible lips brush her forehead for an instant.

  “I’ll protect you, Emma Jane,” he said as he brushed a kiss over the shell of her ear, the words causing her breath to catch. “Trust me. I won’t let you be harmed.”

  “EJ, you didn’t mention having a close friend.” Her father’s voice shattered the illusion she’d allowed herself to become wrapped in and reminded her, quite clearly, Ilya had to have heard the front door open as well.

  And now what the hell was she supposed to say?

  chapter four

  It was Ilya who broke the silence.