Mission: Marriage: Bulletproof Marriage. Lyn Stone

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СКАЧАТЬ misread his hesitation as refusal. “Cut the crap. Tell me everything.”

      Everything. He closed his eyes and sighed. The rest of what he had to tell her tasted like bile, though he knew someday she’d have to know the truth.

       All of the truth, no matter how much it hurt.

      “Start at the beginning, so I can keep this straight.” Her clothes rustled as she moved. “Begin with the family reunion.”

      Though his feud with the Hungarian went back much further than that, the family reunion was a good place to start. Natalie had been scheduled to arrive close to the same time as his parents. A missed flight had saved her life.

      Clearing his throat, he began. “What the Hungarian did to my family earned him a special niche in hell.

      “I arrived on the island early, planning to surprise my folks and you. I’ll never forget jumping out of the rented boat and jogging toward the main house, full of excitement.

      “The pool of blood on the front porch was my first clue something was wrong.”

      He tasted bile and swallowed, forcing himself to continue. “Bloody footprints in the foyer had me running for the den. My family was there—or what was left of them. The killers had dragged them into the center of the room and tossed them in a horrible, bloody heap.”

      Eyes wide, she watched him. “Dead?”

      “Oh yes. They were all dead. Brutally murdered. Missing limbs, or eyes or heads. From the expression on their faces, they’d suffered horribly before they died.”

      The blood leached from her face. “I’m so sorry.”

      Ignoring her, he continued. “Frantic, my first thought was for you, my wife. I couldn’t find you. Your body wasn’t in the bloody carnage of all that remained of my family. I searched every inch of that doomed vacation house. Nothing. Nada. Zip.

      “As if losing my parents and brother and sister weren’t enough.” Again he swallowed, blinking back tears. “I couldn’t bear losing the woman I loved more than life itself, too. But I couldn’t find you.”

      “I wasn’t there,” she reminded him, softly.

      Ignoring her, he went on. “For one terrible moment, I believed you’d been taken hostage by him, a man who had no problem ordering the brutal torture and slaying of innocent people. But when I turned on my cell phone to call the police, I found the message you’d left while I was in flight. I played it back. Your cheerful voice seemed out of place as I stood in the middle of the bloodstained room and played it, again and again and again.”

      “The message I left telling you my flight had been cancelled.” Her whisper was hoarse, the pain in her voice as raw as his own.

      “Yes.” He didn’t tell her that right then he’d fallen on his knees and thanked God she was alive. Natalie was alive. As long as she lived, the Hungarian hadn’t won. She’d been spared the sight of the carnage, of the message written in blood on the living room floor.

       This is only the beginning. We’re not done.

      He’d known then. The Hungarian had done this to make him pay.

      The blame for all these deaths could be laid squarely at his feet. The murders were his fault. Repercussions always had a way of catching up with you. He should have known that.

      But even then, even grieving and hurting and furious, he’d tried to figure out a way to save Natalie. Because he’d known the Hungarian wouldn’t rest until she’d died a horribly slow death, just to punish him. Sean had wanted to spare her that fate. So he’d died instead.

      Now, once again, he faced the consequences of his actions. Proving no one ever got off scot-free.

      “Sean?” Her voice brought him back from the horrific memories. “Why didn’t you contact me, tell me what was going on?”

      “I couldn’t risk it. If anything had happened to you …”

      “I’m a trained SIS agent.” She sounded impatient. “I can protect myself.”

      “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I’d just lost my entire family.” It was the first time he’d admitted it, even to himself.

      He cleared his throat. “Nat, if I hadn’t died, the Hungarian would have killed you. You wouldn’t have seen it coming. Then he would have put a price on my head.”

      “What did you do to make him hate you so much?”

      Ah, the six-million-dollar question.

      He took a deep breath, both dreading what he had to say, and relieved that he could finally say it, struggling to find the right words. Awash in pain he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in twenty-four months, two weeks and three days, he knew he couldn’t break down in front of her. Not now, when every word he said could impact his future.

      Their future, if he dared to dream of such a thing.

      “Years ago, before I met you …” Despite his resolve, he choked up.

      Restless, he almost got up from the bed. But she hadn’t moved from her chair. Who knew—maybe all that psychology crap was right and allowing her to be in a seated position, and thus dominant, while he reclined on the bed, would make her feel better. And maybe, just maybe, help her understand. There was so much more he needed to say.

      Yet once again, the words stuck in his throat.

      The tears shimmering in her eyes nearly undid him. “It’s really awful, isn’t it?” she whispered.

      He nodded, the truth catching in his throat, choking him. The most horrible lie of all.

      But before he could think about how or even whether to begin, she got up and sat beside him. She placed her hand on his arm, sending shock waves through him. For a moment he simply existed, breathing her scent, feeling her touch, and felt he’d finally been allowed a glimpse of heaven.

      “I—” he tried to begin.

      Her voice as soft as her touch, she asked, “Instead of going into hiding, why didn’t you go after him and kill him? Make him pay for what he’s done? You were—are—an assassin. Some say the best. If anyone could bring the Hungarian down, it would be you. How could you allow a bastard like that to live?”

      Wincing, he looked away. “That’s the same question that’s haunted many sleepless nights.” His insides churned. “I wanted to. God, how I wanted to. But I knew it would take time to find him. Your life was at stake. I couldn’t keep you with me always, and I couldn’t use you as bait—too much risk. Yes, I wanted him to pay, but I wanted you to live more. I made a snap decision, dazed by grief, full of rage.”

      “So you faked your death.”

      Put that way, his choice sounded cowardly. In truth, leaving her, making her a widow, had been the most difficult thing he’d ever done. Bar none.

      “I had no choice.”

      She shook СКАЧАТЬ