Wicked Shadows (Steele Security Book 5) Page 15

  In his peripheral vision, Shadow saw the man’s body go limp, and he knew the mission was complete. He kept moving down the side of the mountain, away from the commotion that would no doubt ensue within minutes. He planned to be as far away as possible when that happened.

  “My appointment didn’t show up,” the lovely massage therapist grumbled.

  “Was it for right now?” Elle asked, an idea already quickly forming.

  “Yes. He was adamant about booking this time then didn’t even show up. Now I can’t find him on the guest roster at all.” Her brows furrowed in confusion. “That’s so odd.”

  “Is there any chance I can grab his spot for my boyfriend? He won’t let a man touch him, but we could do a couple’s massage with two female therapists.” Elle’s excitement over the possibility was contagious.

  “I’d be glad to do that for you. I’m Layla, by the way. Go grab your boyfriend, and I’ll get the room set up for two.”

  Elle rushed out of the spa, thinking she’d find Devon just outside the door since he’d left her only minutes before. Another man stood at the rail instead. When he turned and met her gaze, Elle’s blood ran cold. He didn’t appear to belong in such an exclusive, high-end resort.

  His hair was long and unkempt, even pulled back in the messy ponytail he wore. Faded black tattoos covered his arms, chest, and neck. Not the colorful, sexy tattoos that every man-candy with six-pack abs seemed to sport. These were decidedly prison tattoos—an ex-convict who’d been inked with a makeshift method while incarcerated. The letters across his fingers were distinguishable, even from where she stood.

  E V I L O N E S

  As if she were propelled by some invisible force, her feet moved on their own to carry her away from him. His horrifying smile slowly crept across his haggard face, revealing missing and rotten teeth, but deeper than that, his evil nature. She moved quicker, her eyes scanning the area for Devon and the safety his presence inherently provided. She spotted him walking with his casual swagger across one of the private terraces where a guest sat alone, reading the paper and sipping on his drink.

  Devon passed behind him just as the man put his glass down. She opened her mouth to yell his name when she saw something that couldn’t have been. Even in the far reaches of her mind, she wouldn’t accept what her eyes insisted she’d seen.

  Devon’s arm swung loosely at his side when he passed the guest, then made a quick stabbing motion before Devon had moved past the man. Elle’s feet halted at the action, her mouth hung open, and her heart raced at breakneck speed. Consciously willing her feet to move again, she dismissed it and assumed she’d misjudged the entire scene.

  Then the man slumped in his chair, and Devon rapidly descended the stairs, disappearing from her sight. By the time she reached him, she knew he was dead and wouldn’t be revived by the time medical crews arrived. She wanted to help him, but she’d never learned CPR. The frothy spittle just inside his still open lips convinced her to alert the waiter so others who were more qualified could help him instead.

  She ran back up the stairs, yelling for help as she ascended. She was met by two waiters, their faces panic-stricken as she described the man’s condition.

  “Call an ambulance. I think he may already be dead.” Tears welled up in her eyes, and panic rose in her chest. “Do you know how to perform CPR?” she asked one of the men on their way back down the stairs.

  “No,” he replied while staring blankly at the dead man. He finally snapped out of his trance and began instructing the other waiter. “I’ll go call the first responder team. You get an ambulance.” They hurried away from the scene, calling for others to help, and left Elle alone with the dead man again.

  Was I seeing things?

  She didn’t want an answer—but she needed one. She had to satisfy her overactive imagination. She had not just seen Devon jab something into the back of the man’s neck moments before he slouched in his seat. Devon did not palm some sort of device before sliding his hand down into his pocket. The only logical explanation was that she had hallucinated all of it.

  With painfully slow steps, she moved toward the dead man’s back with her eyes glued to his neck and her breaths frozen in her chest. She didn’t know what she’d find there, and she didn’t know what she’d do with whatever she did find.

  How can I report Devon?

  How can I not report Devon?

  Will I be implicated and investigated, too?

  Will I go to prison for being his accomplice?

  How can I believe he had any part to play in this stranger’s death?

  She knew him—the best side of him he didn’t show anyone else. She felt she’d betrayed him for allowing her thoughts to stray as far as they had. He’d done nothing but love and care for her for the last several years.

  Still.

  One more step, and any doubt would be erased—one way or another.

  She moved directly behind him, and her eyes searched the skin on the back of his neck. The way his head dropped to the side created folds of skin that obscured part of her view. A half step closer and her upper body slightly bent over to get a better look, she steeled her nerves and looked again.

  “Excuse me, miss,” a frantic man bellowed from beside her.

  “Elle, what are you doing?” The familiar voice spoke in her other ear at the same time, causing her to jump backward. Devon lifted her up and away from the dead man as the medical crews began to move him.

  There, in the folds of his skin, appeared to be something out of place. Something that didn’t belong. Something so small, it would’ve been missed had she not specifically looked for it. A pinprick that could’ve just as easily been a bug bite. In fact, it’s more likely to be a bug bite than what caused his death, she thought.

  Who returns to the scene of a murder?

  Cold chills ran over her body in the tropical heat of the afternoon at her next thought.

  The murderer does, that’s who.

  Devon carried her up the stairs, giving the medical team room to work on the hotel guest. He pulled her into his arms, and she willingly buried her face in his chest.

  “What are you doing out here alone? You were supposed to be getting pampered for our date tonight.”

  “I was looking for you,” she stuttered, her teeth chattering.

  “Darlin’, even at this resort, you have to be careful. You’re a celebrity. People know your face—and this is a small island. Word travels fast when famous people arrive.” He pulled her closer, tightening his arms around her. “If anything happened to you, I’d never forgive myself for not being there to protect you.”

  Guilt further consumed her. How could she think so lowly of someone who obviously cared so much for her? What did that say about her character? These thoughts and feelings flew through her mind, mixing with flashes of what she thought she’d seen. Then he’d adjust his embrace and remind her how much she loved him all over again.

  “Let’s get you out of here. You don’t need to see this,” he murmured against her temple and placed a reassuring kiss there.

  When they reached the top of the terrace, the sinister-looking ex-convict was still standing in the same spot. His cold stare drifted between Devon and Elle with no attempt to hide his interest in them. He kept his eyes trained on Devon for a second longer than normal, then cut his eyes to Elle again. That same unnerving smile covered his face, enhancing the evil and ugliness inside him.

  For the first time in a very long time, Elle felt genuinely frightened and didn’t know which way to turn. Her rock was beside her, and he was also the one she questioned. The scary-looking man didn’t belong there, but he seemed to recognize them both. The dead man had rattled her beyond belief—but the events leading up to it caused her to question everything about Devon and herself.

  And their relationship.

  14

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “You’re treating me like I’m a fragile doll you’re convinced will shatter any second now.�
�� The curt undertone in Elle’s voice left no room for doubt regarding her frustration.

  “For a while there, I thought you might.” Devon watched her cautiously, unconvinced she was as “fine” as she professed.

  “Who was that man standing outside the spa? Did you know him?” Her eyes held a challenge he hadn’t seen before. She was asking more than her words conveyed, though she didn’t want to admit it, even to herself.

  “What man? Why would you think I know anyone here?”

  “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you answer with a question and keep everything as vague as possible.” She moved from the dresser to the bed, packing her clothes for the flight home.

  Devon could only watch with his heart in his throat. She’d only sampled a small taste of his life—and he’d even tried to keep her out of that, as easy as it had been. She wasn’t cut out for the life of a spy, or a spy’s wife. She was too well-known. She’d be used against him. She was truly his weakness—his Achilles’ heel.

  A simple mission had all but ruined his last night on the island with her. His last night ever. The events of the day revealed what he’d known all along. But like Elle, he didn’t want to face or accept the truth he already knew. He had to let her go, once and for all. For both of their sakes, he had to sever their ties and allow her to live her life in the light of the stars, while he remained in the shadows where he belonged.

  She folded a shirt and placed it in her suitcase. When she moved to the closet to get the next one, he stood and moved into her path, stopping her with his sheer size.

  “Elle, it’s our last night together,” he began. His words struck a chord in her, forcing her eyes to fly up and meet his. “Our last night of vacation on this gorgeous island, with the incredible suite and warm infinity pool. I don’t want to spend it fighting or being distant. Today was upsetting for you, I know. But do you think we can enjoy what little time we have left?”

  Her expression softened, and she smiled lovingly up at him. “I would love that, Devon. I’d love to pretend this afternoon never happened and move back into our bubble of happiness where nothing bad can touch us. Care to pretend with me?”

  “I’d love nothing more than to pretend all night with you.” He leaned down and captured her mouth with his.

  She expected his usual dominant side to emerge and start giving her orders. Not that she’d ever minded his take-charge attitude or his ability to make her feel like a rag doll by the time she’d snuggled beside him to sleep. But his gentleness surprised her. He took his time undressing her and laid her on the bed. He quickly shed his clothes and joined her.

  His fingers glided over her skin as if they had a singular purpose of memorizing every inch of her body. Heated eyes followed their path, but his self-control kept his urges in check. Soft lips placed numerous kisses all over her, worshiping her body with palpable reverence and devotion. The intensity of his emotions streamed out of him without a single word to convey his thoughts. Every articulation he couldn’t voice was clearly pronounced in the way he made love to her soul by simply caressing her body.

  His nose skimmed along her stomach, and he inhaled deeply, drawing in her scent. The first splinter in her heart appeared.

  His tongue blazed a trail over the sensitive skin between her breasts, greedily ingesting her flavor like a man starved. The splinter in her heart became a fissure.

  He nibbled on the delicate skin along the side of her neck and watched with rapt attention as the cold chills flared out across her skin. One side of his mouth lifted slightly in amusement, but the smile never reached his eyes.

  The fissure became a fracture.

  Positioned between her legs, he straightened his arms to hover over her. He pushed forward, his cock brushing against her pussy before he nudged his way inside. Her eyes closed automatically when she moaned, relishing the sensation of him rocking into her. He stopped abruptly and waited for her to look at him again. With her eyes opened and locked on his, he began surging into her again with full, controlled movements. With bent arms, he framed her face and continued, never moving his eyes from hers. When he reached around to wrap his arms under her knees, his gaze never strayed—and he didn’t allow hers to move from him. His message and intentions were clear.

  Their connection was more than physical. In any other circumstance, long periods of direct eye contact would’ve been uncomfortable. But not that night—not with him. The feelings they conveyed to each other with only a slight shift of expressions communicated much more than words could.

  When she thought he couldn’t extract one more scream from her, he proved her wrong. When her skin became slick with sweat and her breaths became labored from exertions, he seemed to gain his second wind. When she didn’t think her body could take his sensual form of torture one more second, he slowed his efforts to let her recover but didn’t break their union.

  When his body forced his release, a moment of grave sadness flashed across his face, deepening his already dark blue eyes further. She searched his face wordlessly, questioning him without verbalizing the fears inside. Everything about their encounter was different than every other time. Part of her tried to rationalize it was symbolic of the two weeks coming to an end and knowing they’d be apart for weeks on end again. But a dire warning registered, and she knew that wasn’t the reason behind their profound lovemaking experience.

  He dipped his head and brushed his lips across hers—lightly at first, then more firmly until a rift in his self-control revealed an instant of desperation in his caress.

  Her heart shattered in her chest.

  After rolling onto his side, he pulled her flush against him and clung to her as if she were his only lifeline in the sea raging out of control in a storm. Even after his exhaustive actions during their carnal union, tension streamed from him with full blunt force. She eventually drifted off into a fitful sleep in his arms.

  One advantage a predawn flight held was no one actually wanted to speak to anyone else unless it was absolutely necessary. Elle was thankful for that, and for Devon packing the rest of their clothes while she showered, trying to wake up after their late-night endeavors. When she emerged from the bathroom, the butler had already taken their luggage down to the waiting taxi.

  Devon closed his hand around hers, threw her carry-on bag over his other shoulder, and led her out of the room. The door clicked shut behind them, automatically locking them out of the room without giving them a chance for one final glance back.

  When their plane reached cruising altitude, she yawned repeatedly while attempting to fight back the sleep that tried relentlessly to overtake her. He reached over to press the button to recline her seat then covered her with both her and his blankets.

  “Rest,” he commanded softly.

  Her lips parted, ready to protest sleeping through more of their time together than absolutely necessary, but he stopped her.

  “I enjoy watching you sleep. You’re tired. Take a nap. I’ll still be right here when you wake.”

  “Not sure I can sleep now, knowing you’ll be watching me.” A hint of melancholy bled through her attempt at levity.

  Devon responded by covering her hand with his warm one. In the dimly lit first-class cabin, Elle ached to confess to every thought, feeling, and desire in her mind and heart. She wanted to tell him all her fears about their future, about her career, about him. She needed him to acknowledge and accept they were a vital part of each other’s lives. More than anything else, she longed for him to explain what she’d witnessed the day before.

  He squeezed her hand and inclined his head ever so slightly, urging her to close her eyes. She clasped her other hand on top of his as she rolled to her side and faced him. With the words on the tip of her tongue, the fatigue and weariness won when her heavy eyes closed and she slipped off to sleep.

  When she opened her eyes, the flight attendant was passing out meals to the other passengers. Her tray and drink sat in front of her, already prepared for her to eat.r />
  “Did you fix this for me?”

  “Yes. We didn’t make it to the special date I had planned last night, so this is my pathetic replacement.”

  “Thank you for doing that. Did you get any sleep?”

  “No. But I watched you sleep, and that always relaxes me.” He picked up her fork and handed it to her.

  “Very subtle clue that you want me to eat, Devon.” Her teasing sounded good to his ears. She sounded more like his Elle—the one who still thought he hung the moon and stars.

  She chatted about the plot of the upcoming production in between bites of her in-flight meal. Devon pretended he listened to her every word, but mostly, he found himself staring at her to memorize small details no one else would notice. Like the small flecks of green and gray in her hazel eyes. How she couldn’t enjoy her food unless she had at least two napkins. The way she loved tomatoes, but not on her sandwiches. She always ate them separately. But mostly he pictured his life without her in it and what that would mean for both of them.

  He tried to remember what filled his time before he jetted off to LA every chance he had to see her. What did he do to occupy his days? How would he cope with all of that after having Elle in his life and his heart for so long?

  For her sake, he had to let her go. He’d selfishly held on to her for far too long—and she’d allowed it to happen because she loved him. But it was time to show her how much he loved her—by doing the right thing, even if it was also the hardest pill to swallow.

  “That was actually pretty good for airline food,” Elle remarked, pulling him from his internal thoughts. “You’ve been quiet, listened to me blabber on nonstop, and stared at me while I ate. What’s on your mind?”