Page 86 of Intense Pleasure (Bound Hearts 14)

“Your dad with you?” Raeg called back.

“Here,” Cal answered the questioned.

“Cyclops is taking the shots,” he called back, knowing Summer’s father would connect the codename.

Silence filled the night for long seconds.

“Cy? You out there?” Cal called out then. “Come on now, answer me. Tell me you’re not gunnin’ for my little girl tonight.”

The fact that Summer’s father knew things he shouldn’t would surprise him later, Raeg told himself as he searched the darkness, looking for the man who had once been a hero, only to turn into a monster.

“She’s a tough girl.” Laughter filled Roberto Falcon’s voice, the hint of a Spanish accent fluid, not at all what a merciless killer should sound like. “Reminds you of a young Leasa, doesn’t she?”

The familiarity in the disembodied voice was apparent. Summer’s father knew far more than he’d ever let on to any of them.

“She does, Cy,” Cal called back. “I need to get her out of here though. You gonna try to stop me?”

Silence filled the night again for long, tense moments.

Raeg could feel his heartbeat slowing, could feel the night filling with a heavy foreboding as he shifted to help Falcon cover Summer further, to keep her from coming into their father’s crosshairs.

“Go after Dragovich, Cal,” a voice called out, the night distorting his location. “Your daughter’s safe. For now.”

For now.

Falcon hung his head, relief and desolation sweeping through him.

She was safe, for now.

“Move out,” Cal ordered. “If you’re going with us, we’ll meet at my truck. Move it.”

Shadows began shifting through the darkness. With a fluid, almost natural flow, they moved quickly back toward the house.

As much as he’d hated the damned parties that had been planned, he gave Summer’s family credit for inviting the very type of man needed in the event Summer was actually threatened.

“I’m going,” Summer snapped as he and Raeg helped her to her feet. “Don’t even start…”

“I would never imagine you wouldn’t go,” Falcon agreed, and though Raeg agreed too, the thought of having her anywhere where Cyclops could get her in his crosshairs terrified him. “Let’s go.”

Chapter

EIGHTEEN

Roberto Falcone, “Cyclops,” had obviously beaten them to the Taggart hunting lodge.

Dragovich lay in the middle of the wood floor, a broken bottle of vodka next to him, the back of his head mixed into the brain matter staining the floors and the blood seeping into the rough planks.

With him were three of his top lieutenants, the worst of his followers. Cowering in a closet was a young woman, bruised, her clothing torn, terrified and in shock.

On the table next to Dragovich’s body was a note.

You’re welcome, sons. I’ll be in contact.—Father

He would be in contact?

The bastard.

Raeg grit his teeth, the muscles in his jaw bunching as Summer stepped around the dead to get to the table. She’d changed clothes in the back seat of her father’s pickup as they raced for the hunting cabin. Rather than the dress and strappy sandals she’d had on at the party, she wore the black mission outfit she kept in the go bag she’d tossed into Falcon’s SUV before they’d left the house.