Page 16 of A Rhapsody of Ravens and Revenge

The panic was squeezing her now, a vice that constricted her air and her thoughts until only fear survived.

“What’s wrong?” Cal asked, taking a step back and immediately looking for threats.

“We can’t do this,” she said. “I won’t let you do this. I’m not another mission for you to add to your win column. I stand by my promise I made to you and myself. I’ll do what’s right. What’s just. And I’ll protect the people I love. And though I’d prefer not to be held captive in my own house, and I would choose anyone else to be here but you, I understand the necessity and I don’t want to worry my father. And I would like to live to testify against the man who committed murder.

“But there are boundaries. And we’ll both do the jobs in front of us. Nothing more, nothing less. And when it’s over we’ll go our separate ways. No matter how right you were back then,” she said, hating the tears in her voice. “You killed something inside me that day. Something that was innocent and pure.”

She found whatever courage was still left inside of her and straightened her shoulders, staring him down with defiance. “I wanted you then. The way a woman wants a man. And I loved you then. Only you were too ignorant to see it. You can make me want you again. That’s easy enough to see. But you won’t make me love you again. That was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that you ignored. Do your job. Complete the mission. But leave me alone.”

She jumped as “Master of Puppets” played loudly from Cal’s phone. They stood staring at each other as the music played, and she wished she could read his thoughts. His face was blank and gave away nothing.

The song kept playing until he broke their silence and said, “It’s Atticus. The house will be swarming with agents if I don’t answer.”

“Then answer,” she replied.

She grabbed her shirt and put it back on, covering herself as quickly as she could. She hadn’t been lying when she’d told him he could make her want him again. The girlish dreams of marriage and children with Cal were just that—childish. In her heart she knew she still loved him, but she couldn’t trust him. Would never be able to trust him. She was nothing more than a pawn to him. Something he wanted to control. And a guy like Cal, once he came out the victor in the game he was playing, he’d move on to the next challenge. He’d conquered the Black Lily. But he’d never conquer Evangeline Lockwood.

Her determination must’ve shown on her face because Cal gave her a strange look as he answered the phone.

“Cruz,” he said.

She needed to escape and time to think.

As if reading her mind, he took her by the arm before she could leave. “Like glue, Evie,” he said. “Don’t disappear.”

She jerked out of his grasp and slipped out of the kitchen, heading upstairs to her suite. She’d just dodged the biggest bullet of her life. Now she only had to make sure she didn’t put herself in the line of fire again.

Chapter Six

Cal was in deep trouble. And if he could reach his hands through the phone and wring Atticus’s neck, he would have. Because this was all his fault.

That kiss would be etched into his memory forever. He could still taste her. Her words still shocked him. She’d loved him. Not a child’s love, but a woman’s. She’d wanted him. And he’d destroyed those childish dreams in an instant.

He couldn’t and didn’t have regrets. He’d do it again in an instant because he knew as sure as he was standing there that she was alive because of him. She might not love him anymore, but she was alive. He could make her love him again. Would make her love him again. If it was the last thing he did.

They’d been playing cat and mouse for too long. It was time for both of them to come to terms with the fact that they were meant for each other. Maybe God did have a sense of humor, because no two people belonged together—fit together—were made for each other—like he and Evangeline. He just had to convince her to agree with him.

He had a lot of regrets over the way he’d handled things ten years before. He’d damaged her pride and treated her like a child. But he still couldn’t think of an alternative solution, even after all this time. He’d done what he had to protect her. And that meant more to him than her hating or not hating him. And how could she kiss him like she had if she really hated him?

What he really missed was the chase. He’d spent four years of his life searching for the Black Lily. And she’d outmaneuvered him at every turn. Except for that last time. He not only missed her as a person—they’d practically grown up together—but he missed pitting his skills against hers. There was no one else out there like her who had a combination of that level of skill and daring.

And then there was the chemistry. He blew out a frustrated breath. If Atticus hadn’t interrupted them Cal didn’t know what would have happened between him and Evangeline. Though he had a pretty good idea.

He wanted her the way a man wanted a woman—but not just any woman—the woman who had been made for him. There was no doubt about that. But what he wanted most was for her to trust him again. He wanted her heart. And he wanted her love. He was thirty-six years old. He was well past the point of quick and meaningless flings. He didn’t want an empty relationship. He wanted someone to challenge his mind. Someone to fill the void of loneliness. And Evangeline was the only person he’d ever met who could do both.

“Cyph, are you listening to me?” Atticus asked.

“Not really,” he answered. “This place is a security nightmare. What about the agents you’ve got on this assignment? Have they reported in?”

“If you’d been listening you would have an answer to that question. There’s been no sighting of Taber in the area, and you guys are secure for the moment. You’ve got a weak spot on the northwest corner of the house. Beachside. No one can get in position to see from that angle, so we’ll put a boat in the water so you’ve got eyes in that direction. Should be in place by tomorrow morning at the latest.”

“What about Taber? Any sightings?”

“Not a sighting. More of a calling card. The head design engineer of AeroNaut was murdered about an hour ago in Dallas. Almost exactly the same way as Biddle. Car pulled up in the middle of the day, the window rolled down, and three shots were fired. He used a silencer this time because the streets were more crowded with pedestrians. No one got a look at his face, and he was gone and around the block before anyone could get a plate number. But the vehicle was described as a silver Mercedes, similar to the vehicle he used in DC. That’s consistent with Taber’s MO.

“He likes to kill in style,” Atticus continued. “He studies his target thoroughly, spends a couple of weeks doing recon, following them from place to place. Ninety-nine percent of people are comfortable in their habits. They take the same roads to and from work. They stop at the same gas stations. The same few restaurants. He knows what time of day and where the hit will be most efficient. He knows what businesses have exterior cameras and where the city has cameras planted. He has an escape route. And a plan B and C if that doesn’t work out. Men like Taber don’t stress under pressure. If he wasn’t a psychopath, he’d have made a hell of an agent.”

“Comforting thought,” Cal said.

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