Page 29 of Toxic Vengeance

Kiyomi swung her leg over Maple’s rump and dropped lightly to the ground like she’d done it a thousand times before. Marcus automatically caught her waist to steady her, and just touching her that way sent a bolt of heat through him. He let her go like she’d burned him and stepped back, her scent swirling in his head as she turned to face him, unbuckling the helmet.

She took it off, looking up at him as her shiny black hair fell around her face, those liquid dark eyes fixed on his. “Thank you. I loved it.”

“My pleasure.” He took the helmet, stepped back so he could think straight. “I’ll see to Maple.” It came out like a dismissal, and that’s how Kiyomi took it. She forced a smile, nodded, then joined Amber, Ty and Jesse as they headed to the house. It took all his discipline not to watch her go.

Megan stood by Rollo’s stable as Marcus put Jack in his and started unsaddling Maple. “How’d she do?” she asked.

“She was brilliant.” He wished they were still out there together. “How was shooting?”

“I only hit six reds. I’m getting rusty. Think we could put in some practice together this week?”

He smiled, the tension inside him easing. “Aye, I’d like that.”

“Me too.” She folded her arms and leaned back against the stall, ignoring Rollo as he lipped at her hair. “Did you ask her to ride, or did she ask you?”

Okay, now he was uncomfortable. Megan saw too much, knew him too well, and he had to be more careful about hiding his increasingly intense attraction toward Kiyomi. “I asked her.” Pulling off the saddle and cloth beneath it, he strode over to hang them on the wall, knowing this conversation wasn’t near over yet.

“She likes you. She trusts you.”

Marcus released the saddle and turned to face her. “Aye. I’m glad of it.”

Megan nodded, her expression troubled. “It’s okay to live, you know. You don’t need to keep punishing yourself.”

It wasn’t what he’d expected her to say.

Unable to hold her gaze, he looked away. Yes, he did need to keep punishing himself. And a washed-up cripple of an ex-soldier was the last thing a woman like Kiyomi needed anyway. She’d wouldn’t want him now, and after what had happened in Syria, he was the last person who deserved happiness.

“Marcus.”

“Leave it alone,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

Thankfully he was saved from whatever she’d been about to say in reply by the chime of his mobile, alerting him to a new message. He pulled it from his pocket, then tossed the brush to Megan. “Mind untacking Jack and giving Maple a brush down for me? Trinity and Eden are back, and they’ve brought our newest guest with them.”

Grabbing his cane, he started for the doorway with Karas right at his heels. His once empty house was all but bursting at the seams. He had to make sure it remained secure.

Chapter Eight

This was theirheadquarters?

Zack gazed around in amazement as he stood in the entryway of Laidlaw Hall, feeling like he’d entered an alternate universe. Well, what was one more surprise in a day full of them? He sure as hell hadn’t expected to wind up here when he’d woken up this morning.

He’d spent the two-plus-hour drive from London mostly making small talk with Trinity, and convincing himself he’d made the right decision in joining the team. He didn’t owe the Agency anything, but Rod would rain shit down on him if he’d known what was really going on. Zack was now basically AWOL as far as the CIA was concerned.

Not that his handler or anyone else could track him at the moment, because as soon as he’d gotten in the car they’d taken his phone, switched if off and pulled out the SIM card, then swept him for electronic devices. Zack hadn’t protested. They were right to be cautious and he was willing to take whatever consequences came his way, as long as it meant having time with Eden.

She’d barely said two words to him the entire trip, answering only when asked a direct question, and in as few words as possible. She might not love that he’d agreed to join their cause, but too damn bad. They had unfinished business, and if he could help find justice for John as well, then he wasn’t going anywhere.

“This way,” Eden said without looking at him as she started down the hallway.

He hurried to keep up with her as the owner, Marcus, followed Zack, his cane tapping on the worn stone floors and an Anatolian Shepherd-type dog at his side. Zack still didn’t understand how Marcus fit into all this, and why he was letting the team stay here. This place was hundreds of years old and must be worth a damn fortune.

Eden walked out a doorway at the end of the hall into a formal, manicured garden, and along a path that led to a grassy area on one side of the house. He could hear feminine voices and laughter close by, as well as an occasionalthudevery few seconds.

As they rounded the side of the house, Zack stopped. Across a lush, neatly-trimmed lawn, four women were taking turns throwing knives into a target. Out in front of the group, a tall blonde reared her arm back and let what looked like a KA-BAR fly, hitting the center red circle with a solidthunk.

The other women started trash-talking. Then the one with chocolate-brown hair spotted them and alerted the others. Four pairs of eyes fastened on Zack.

“All right, fresh meat,” the blonde said, grinning as she chewed her gum.

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