“I never met my cousin Francine, but Papa says I look a lot like her.”
Did she? Tehya stared at the younger woman for a quick second before looking out at the crowd on the ballroom floor as they reentered it.
“She must have been very beautiful then,” Tehya told her sincerely.
Journey’s smile was hopeful, though it lacked the confidence someone of her looks should have.
Journey did resemble Francine Taite, quite a lot actually. Tehya had seen pictures of her mother when she was young. A fragile, delicate young woman whose smile had been filled with infectious humor and charm. Journey could have passed for Francine’s daughter, perhaps more than Tehya could.
Finding one of the small seating areas, they sat down in a sheltered corner where they could watch the crowd and still talk. Tehya noticed Micah Sloane in his role as an independent bodyguard staying a careful distance from her, but close enough to ensure her protection.
“I don’t care much for the new managers of your company,” Journey said, thankfully switching topics.
Tehya had to control the urge to chuckle at the other girl’s pouting expression.
“Why’s that?” she asked.
“The McIntyres are nice enough.” Journey shrugged. “But they don’t have your vision, Teylor. I don’t think they’re going to make a profit like you would have.”
“And the difference is?” Tehya asked her, genuinely curious now.
Journey played with the ends of a heavy swath of hair that had fallen over her shoulder as a thoughtful look came over her face.
“You naturally pull in clients. They become as excited as you do at the prospect of your designs, while the McIntyres don’t truly seem to be taking it seriously. They actually seem more like drill sergeants.”
Her poor landscaping company. Tehya had to force back the grief at the thought of losing it completely. She loved the design aspects and the clients that always seemed to love the efforts she made to bring color and life to the property they hired her to fix.
“They’ll work out fine,” she finally promised, with absolutely no confidence that they could hold on to her clients.
Because Journey was right; she seemed to have an affinity for the clients she met as well as the designs that would best suit them.
“Why are you considering giving up the company, Teylor?” Journey asked, sounding concerned. “Is the reason financial? I’m certain I could help you find backers…”
“Journey. No.” Tehya laid her hand on Journey’s arm. “It has nothing to do with money and I haven’t made a final decision yet anyway. Lets wait and see what happens.”
The words nearly stuck in her throat from the painful realization that as much as she wanted to she may never be able to return to the life she had begun building for herself.
Journey’s head lowered before she lifted it and looked around. There was something on the other girl’s mind, and for a moment Tehya saw the sadness that filled her.
She would have asked about it if Journey’s face hadn’t gone through a quick, conflicting change of expressions.
At first, there was frustration, anger, then a glimmer of involuntary interest mixed with the English reserve Tehya always found so fascinating.
Following her gaze, Tehya watched the powerful form of Beauregard Grant as he made his way from the bar over to them.
At twenty-nine, Beau Grant was a tall, formidable vision. He wasn’t handsome in the conventional sense, rather he was dark and brooding. A closely cropped beard and mustache covered the lower part of his face, as well as a fine webbing of scars from a fiery car crash he’d been involved in years earlier.
His familial connections to England’s queen made him a much sought-after guest wherever he was staying, though his ties to several criminal elements made him a force to be wary of.
The fact that he was involved with Journey was something Tehya knew she would be losing sleep over.
“Journey.” He moved to the seating area, bent and kissed the younger girl’s cheek warmly. “I was wondering where you disappeared to.”
“I met Miss Johnson in the ladies’ room,” Journey lied smoothly. “We were discussing dresses.”
His expression was bland, neither believing nor disbelieving as he flicked a careless look toward Tehya.
“Your father’s looking for you as well,” he stated. “And I’m ready to claim that dance you owe me.” His tone didn’t encourage a refusal.
Tehya’s gaze narrowed on the couple as Journey rose to her feet with a small sigh of resignation. “Perhaps we’ll have a chance to discuss clothing designs later.” The unconscious wariness that descended over her worried Tehya now. “Good evening, Miss Johnson.”
“Miss Taite,” Tehya murmured as the couple moved off.
Grant’s hand settled at Journey’s lower back in a gesture of possessiveness and control that had immediately set off warning bells in Tehya’s mind.
He was too dark, too dangerous, and much too experienced for the demure child Journey still was in so many ways.
As she stood, Jordan moved beside her, his progress from the bar and the group of men he had been talking to made with deceptive laziness. He had been waiting for the other two to walk away.
“Interesting,” he murmured. “I personally would have chosen someone much lighter natured for my daughter if I were her father.”
Tehya turned and stared back at him in confusion. “Meaning?”
“Rumor is circulating tonight that her father and Mr. Grant have come to an agreement concerning various interests in exchange for Craig’s approval and subsequent agreement to force Journey into marrying him. An arranged marriage, I believe it was once called.” His icy gaze held hers. “What are his chances of forcing her into it?”
Tehya sighed heavily. “Excellent. Journey hasn’t developed the strength to fight against her father yet. Hell, he still controls damned near every aspect of her life that he’s aware of, to the point that she’s hiding the fact that she’s working.”
Tehya made a mental note to meet with Journey soon and discuss this. If her cousin wanted out of that marriage, if she wanted a way to disappear from such a cold-blooded family, then Tehya would help her.
“Genetics are a bitch,” Jordan said, his tone low. “It’s hard to imagine you’re from the same gene pool.”
“No kidding.” She could only shake her head at the thought of the arrogance and superiority that had oozed from Stephen and Craig Taite’s pores. How different they were from what she had imagined. There was none of the warm humor that Journey possessed, none of the charm she seemed to use unconsciously. It was even harder to imagine her mother was related.
“I’ll make sure I find out what Journey herself wants,” she told him, her gaze glittering with suppressed anger. “I won’t let her be forced into anything so important as marriage.”
There was his Tehya. Jordan felt a spurt of pride at the pure determination and protectiveness rising inside her.
“We’ll see,” he agreed. “I believe my business has been conducted for the evening, though. I would like to claim a dance from my very beautiful lover before other things get in the way.”
“Expect things to get in the way,” she informed him as she laid her hand in the crook of his arm once again and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor, where other couples were now moving in synch with the slow, seductive music the band had slipped into.
“Of course,” he agreed with her.
“Have our watchers taken the bait yet?” she asked as she placed her head against his shoulder, his head bent to her.
“They haven’t moved.” His tone hardened. “But I hadn’t expected them to during the party. They’ve made no phone calls though, which I didn’t expect. I was hoping for a number to trace.”
“They’ve been careful all these years not to tip their hand, Jordan.” Weariness and a sense of impending doom was beginning to grow inside her once again. “They’re not going to slip up th
at easily.”
“I didn’t say it would be easy, now, did I?” he pointed out with an edge of amusement.
A smile tugged at her lips. “True,” she agreed, “you never promised it would be easy.”
His fingers tucked beneath her chin and lifted her head, his gaze staring down into hers. “They have to go through me to hurt you, baby. Me and the entire fucking team,” he swore.
Him and the entire team. He took care of those he considered his own. His agents, their wives, their children if needed. He claimed his shoulders were broad.
The fact was, she was still just a part of the team. It was nothing special. It was nothing romantic nor was it something he would allow them to have forever.
She had now though, she reminded herself. She had a chance to make some memories, a chance to gather his warmth, his passion to her and hold it for the cold, dark days ahead.
As he held her chin up, his head lowered to brush her lips with his. The latent hunger in the action sent heat surging through her body and hunger knotting her womb with such fierce heat it felt blistering.
God, she loved him. So much that she would walk through fire, a hail of bullets, or face her family simply because he felt it was for the best.
As his head rose, her hand lifted, her fingers touching his clean-shaven jaw. She didn’t care who watched, she didn’t care the conclusions they drew. She had to tell him, it was burning in her heart and in her soul, that need to whisper the hunger she knew would never ease.
Whatever happened, whatever the growing panic building inside her meant, she didn’t want to leave this world without him knowing.…
As her lips parted he laid his fingers against them, leaned close, and simply whispered. “I know.”
CHAPTER 12
It was midnight before the senator’s party finally began to wind down and Jordan decided it was time to make their exit. The hours had been spent dancing, chatting, and socializing. The Taites were present, moving around them yet never actually confronting Jordan again.
“Ah, I see you’re leaving, Jordan.” Still bright-eyed and energetic, the senator met them at the wide double doors as they neared them.
“It’s that time, Richard,” Jordan answered with a grin as he drew Tehya closer to his side. “I have several meetings tomorrow that I’d prefer not to be late to.”
“I completely understand.” The senator gave a quick nod before bending his head to kiss Tehya’s cheek fondly. “Come see us soon, Teylor. As always, you’re missed.”
The farewell was a message as well. That she didn’t have to wait until the operation was over to visit. That they were friends.
“We would love to see more of you, Tey.” Emily Krieger reinforced her father’s invitation, using the shortened version of her name to remind her that Emily knew not just who she was, but also who she had been.
“Perhaps,” Tehya murmured, though she returned Emily’s hug firmly and thankfully.
She knew that once this was over, if she survived it, that she would need a friend. Someone who could understand without reaching out to Jordan with a guilt trip where leaving Tehya was concerned.
Tehya knew exactly how the unit worked and the friendships that had been built because of it. They were, in many regards, like a family.
“We’ll see you soon, Richard,” Jordan promised again as his hand tightened at Tehya’s lower back to draw her from the house. “And thanks again for the invitation.”
Guests were already milling on the mansion’s marble front stoop and wide steps that led to the curved driveway and the limousines slowly pulling around.
As Nik pulled the limo to a stop, exited the vehicle, and moved to the back door, Jordan led her slowly down the steps. Her hand lay in the crook of his arm comfortably, the warmth of his body against her side.
Behind her, she felt eyes watching, piercing.
The feeling was stronger than it had been before Jordan found her. The panic was beginning to tighten her chest, building inside her, warning her that the storm brewing around her was going to explode at any time.
Turning slowly in the seat, she sat sideways, facing Jordan, her gaze moving to the crowd gathering on the marble stoop.
Standing out from the other guests, instantly drawing her gaze, their eyes locked on Jordan’s limo, were Stephen and Craig Taite.
Staring into Stephen Taite’s face, she saw his resemblance to the pictures she had seen of her grandfather, and a slighter resemblance to her mother. Craig Taite resembled her mother more, though. His tall, lanky form was a harder, more masculine, male version of Francine Taite.
Thoughtful, perhaps confused, Stephen’s expression was almost enigmatic as his gaze remained locked on the back of the limo, as though he were attempting to sort out a puzzle.
His son’s expression was more disapproving, though tinged with interest and a hint of—was that somber sadness and knowledge? Or was she simply seeing what she wanted to see? Seeing a family when there was none?
She forced herself to turn away, to let the sight of them go as her mother’s secret whispered through her mind. She held the key to the destruction of the Taite empire, and she had forced herself to remain aloof from them, to push away every dream she had ever had, to ensure not just their safety, but also the balance of financial power they had maintained.
Her family.
Her mother had grieved for her family. Tehya remembered the few months off and on that she and her mother had been able to actually be together, and she remembered hearing her mother cry.
They had been lost in the world, separated when Bernard Taite and his wife had died. Francine had been too terrified to call on what remained of her family after her parents’ murders certain that they too would suffer if she did so.
“Tey.” Jordan’s voice was soft, despite its roughness as he pulled her to him. “It’s going to be okay.”
She shook her head as she fought back her tears. “Mother grieved for everything she had lost over the years. She called when she learned of my grandparents’ deaths, hysterical out of her mind with guilt because she had called them, begging for their help. Their deaths were made to look like an accident with the hit and run that killed my grandfather. It appeared my grandmother committed suicide. Even the officers investigating knew there was more to their deaths. There was just no proof.”
Was she shaking? She could feel her stomach trembling where that sense of panic was building.
“Tehya, stop this.” Strong, broad fingers suddenly gripped her waist as he lifted her, pulling her to his lap before a hand cupped her cheek and turned her head to face him.
His eyes were a brilliant sapphire, staring into hers, locking her soul to his.
“No one knows who you are. They may suspect, but I promise you, no one will strike out at the Taites because of that suspicion.”
Her hand gripped his wrist, desperation beginning to grow inside her, clawing at her until she wondered why she hadn’t run, why she hadn’t escaped the moment she had known she was being watched again.
“I’m terrified, Jordan,” she finally admitted painfully. “I don’t want to lose anyone else. I don’t want anyone else to die because of me. I’ve already lost too much.”
The men she had worked with during their contract to the Elite Ops were her friends. She was friends with the wives, she had gotten to know their children through pictures and knew their hopes and dreams. She was closer to them, and to Jordan, than she had ever been to anyone else in her life. Even her mother.
And Jordan. Her hand tightened on his wrist as his thumb caressed her lips, sending flares of exquisite sensation washing through her.
In the midst of rising panic, those sensations had the ability to still the storm raging inside her. Fear retreated beneath the warmth that sparked to a flame and hunger turned to a raging need in a split second.
“I don’t know if I can survive…”
“Shhh.” His fingers covered her lips. “We’re going to fix this, Tehya. A
ll of it. When it’s over, you’ll never have to hide again. I swear it.”
She knew what he was doing, though. His fingers were holding back the words she knew he didn’t want to hear.
He wanted her. She could see it in his face. He wanted her body, her touch, but he didn’t want the heart she had given him years before.
This was all she had, and, she promised herself, she would make it be enough.
She shook her head slowly as his fingers slid from her lips, along her jaw, down her neck to her shoulder. Like a whisper of heat, the subtle touch of flames.
“Touch me.” If he didn’t touch her, if he didn’t distract her, then how was she supposed to hold back the emotions?
No, she wasn’t holding back the emotions. If he didn’t want her to whisper them, then he had to give her another way to express them.
Through her pleasure.
Her head fell back against his arm slowly as she felt his free hand lift the skirt of her dress, his palm cupping the side of her ankle before sliding heatedly to her knee.
Callused and experienced, his fingertips slid to the back of her knee, caressing in tiny circles, causing her leg to tighten as heat pierced her womb.
“Touch you how?” he whispered, sensual promise tightening his voice.
Her eyes opened, her stomach clenched in rising need at the pure, sexual hunger on his face, in his eyes.
Reaching down, her fingers curled around his wrist as she lifted his hand and brought it to her breast.
“They ache,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
And they did. Her nipples were on fire as the need for his touch, the heated dampness of his mouth surrounding them, began to tear through her.
“They ache, love?” he asked, his arm shifting behind her back to lower the zipper of her dress.
The bodice loosened, slid slowly over the swollen, tight curves of her breasts and revealed the painfully hard buds of her nipples.
The wash of air over the sensitive peaks sent a shudder racing through her. Anticipation surged, heated and spiked with sexual adrenaline.