“Caitlyn.”
A shiver rippled over her at the sound of his voice. She turned and cuddled into his chest before settling again. Much as he needed to, Duke couldn’t bring himself to attempt to rouse her.
Something peculiar fluttered through his chest, settling there lightly. Something more than his usual protective instinct. He cursed himself silently. She was the job, and he’d be damned if he wouldn’t die to keep her safe. But this?
This was something else entirely.
Caitlyn Maddox had him— hook, line and sinker— from the minute she’d spoken his name. That one arched brow over those great big toffee-colored eyes and that teasing little smile on her absolutely luscious lips.
His mission briefing hadn’t prepared him for her.
Neither had the grainy images taken at a distance of a mousy-looking researcher. Which she might be. She definitely gave off an air of fragility and the social ineptitude of a genius savant.
But this tallish, slender woman with the figure of a centerfold certainly didn’t look mousy or fragile up-close and in person. And when she talked—mmm-mmm-mmm. She sounded like the brilliant female foil in a spy movie, her voice low and a little breathy.
His thoughts abruptly turned black. If he hadn’t known what had happened to her late husband, he could easily have imagined her being exactly that. And to an extent she truly was, even if she didn’t know it.
When he’d seen her the first time—at her husband’s discharge from the hospital—Duke had wondered if it wasn’t already too late and she hadn’t been targeted as her husband had. In a dark moment as he’d studied her through the binoculars, he’d wondered if there was even a point to protecting her at all.
She’d looked hollow. Half-dead and wholly drained both physically and emotionally after Alex Maddox’s rapid but brutal decline from his illness. And she didn’t even know as much as he did about what had actually happened to him.
She’d been thirty-one when her husband had been handed his death-sentence diagnosis. Not even to the peak of her life. Certainly not remotely close to her scientific potential. Yet when he’d seen the emptiness, the dull, aching lifelessness behind her eyes, she’d seemed so much older.
Exhausted.
As if the weight of hundreds of lifetimes rested on her thin shoulders alone. Dragging her down. Choking the life out of her.
Maybe it did.
Already her research had cured over a hundred, previously untreatable, genetic malfunctions in people all over the world. With research using Zebra fish, of all things—he’d had to do an internet search to know what they even were. And as soft of a personality as she was, as kind-hearted and empathetic, it had to rest heavy how many more desperately needed her help. Needed her knowledge. Her cures.
His heart ached for her. Her whole life had been taken from her when her husband had been murdered—childhood friends and classmates turned lovers turned partners both professionally and personally. Hers was a storybook life she’d barely begun to live, even adventurous as she was. With her husband’s death, a big part of it was gone.
Duke studied her heart-shaped face, his gaze lingering on her lush, kissable mouth, relaxed now in sleep. That he could tell, she wore no make-up, and in his humble opinion, she didn’t want for it at all. Had she turned a different corner in life, he could easily see her as some glamorous supermodel or high-paid famous movie actress. Her face artificially enhanced with layers of make-up and plastered all over creation, known to everyone.
He drew a sharp breath, lifting his gaze and skimming the visible areas of the cabin’s interior. He was treading dangerous waters with this woman. Get your head in the game, he warned silently, then gave himself a mental shake. You’re acting like a rookie.
Overhead, the announcement chime rang softly, barely audible over the noise of the engines. The seat belt signs brightened incrementally in the plane’s dimly-lit cabin. A flight attendant rattled her spiel about passengers remaining in their seats with their seat belts fastened and something about possible turbulence, first in English, then in Italian.
Reluctantly, Duke jostled her gently in his arms, calling her name again softly. “Caitlyn. You have to wake up, darlin’.”
She drew a hiccupy breath, struggling with the airline’s cheap little blanket that he’d laid over her, before finally freeing one delicate hand and threading her fingers into her hair with a groggy yawn. Around them, the plane shuddered aggressively and suddenly, she was wide awake, roused violently and clinging to the front of his shirt with startled eyes.
“Duke!? Good grief! I’m so sorry!” Bolting upright, adrenaline flooding her veins, she jerked herself out of his arms by grabbing the chair in front of her, then apologized profusely to the startled person seated there.
Wrapping his arms about her shoulders, he drew her to a sit and gave her a light squeeze to comfort her. “It’s alright. Caitlyn. Darlin’. It’s alright. You’re safe.”
It took her another thirty seconds or so for her to regain her bearings, to remember where she was, then she eased herself out from under his arm shyly. When she turned her head, her expression nearly leveled him. There was so much trust there, so much confidence, so plain to see, that Duke suddenly felt wholly unprepared and inadequate to the task assigned to him.
What if he failed? Like the agent who’d been assigned to protect them before? Intel had identified that someone was here already—someone with malicious intent was looking for her. What if he became complacent too? Lulled by the general drudgery of watching her day-to-day living and let down his guard?
Shake it off, Duke!
Failure couldn’t be an option. He owed her a life safe from the people who’d already taken so much from her. No matter how much her graces made him wish they truly were two strangers who’d met by chance and enjoyed each other’s company, that wasn’t what this was. At least not on his part.
“It’s about a half-hour until we land. Seems like it might be a bumpy one,” he warned her, then nodded towards her lap where the flimsy airline blanket pooled. “Need to buckle up again.”
“I—yes.” She shifted in her seat, feeling along it for the two sides of her seatbelt. “I’m sorry about—.”
When her fingers brushed his, he caught her hand. Lifting it to his lips, he kissed the baby-softness of her palm and flashed her a million-megawatt grin. “I’m not. Who do you think put you in my arms?”
Her mouth fell open in shock. “Uh—wh-why?”
“You were already asleep against my shoulder. I didn’t want you to get a crick in your neck.” Duke set her hand in her lap and retrieved the side of her seatbelt between them for her. “It’ll be daylight when we land, darlin’. Morning, on your first day in Italy. You and me got exploring to do.”
She flashed him a fragile smile, then stood carefully, pivoting towards the aisle.
Duke could only stare, astonished that her slender figure fit in that narrow space. Only her head was ducked to avoid the overhead storage bins. Did she never eat? With the kind of curves she sported, that couldn’t be true, but she was willowy thin anyway.
“Excuse me. I’ll need to—.”
“Oh. Right.” He nodded and rose, stepping into the aisle to let her out of their two-person row. Using the opportunity, he skimmed the passengers behind them. Then watched her make her way towards the restrooms as far as he could comfortably without being obvious.
From his seat nearby, Dex subtly noted every interaction between Caitlyn Maddox and this fake Duke, his usurper. He had to hand it to the self-professed west Texan—the guy was good. Rachel really needed to find out where he was from and who’d trained him. During the early hours of the ten-hour flight, he’d kept Caitlyn talking—the general chitty-chat getting-to-know someone that sets people—well, women really—at ease. This wannabe Duke had created a credible and reassuring backstory for himself, then extracted Caitlyn’s, even a few things she hadn’t revealed during her onboarding process with The Duke Agency. The guy picked up fast when something made her uncomfortable, and smoothed over his blunders with a cool confidence that was truly enviable. Seemingly without effort, he charmed the socks right off of her. Once their shitty airline meal had been served, he’d started with the wine—a surprisingly good offering of Italian blends, generously served in unending quant
“That went faster than I expected.” Caitlyn covered her yawn with a hand, then reached high over her head with both arms in a long stretch. “You mean Customs? Or the flight?” Duke asked, tucking the handle of her roller luggage in as he parked it beside his, then loading it under the bus while the driver worked on other bags. Standing upright, he watched her, enjoying the view. “Both.” Beyond them in the trees lining the airport’s bus parking, a bird trilled an unfamiliar song and she turned her attention towards it. Coming alongside her, Duke bent, hoisting her carry-on bag onto his own shoulder opposite his backpack, then took her elbow, directing her towards the nearest of the two bus entrances. “Twenty-five isn’t a large group. Plus, I think we got lucky. We must’ve been the first international flight landing in that terminal. Did you see the line behind us?” Ahead of him, she shook her brown, delightful head and climbed the three stairs to the bu
Frowning, Caitlyn powered her phone off, then tucked it back into her shoulder bag and zipped it closed moodily. “I don’t understand what’s wrong with that thing.” “We’ll use mine.” Reaching into his breast pocket, Duke pulled out his phone, then unlocked the touchscreen and handed it to her. “Do you have an international plan?” Without a second thought, Caitlyn accepted it from him, immediately ducking her head and accessing an internet browser. “Of course, I do, but obviously something’s not set up right. I’m not sure how I can fix it either when I can’t get service to call or message them.” Reaching out, he wrapped a large hand around her upper arm, pulling her out of the press of people traffic and into the protective shelter of his hulking frame. “You can use mine when we get back to the hotel.” Not that it would make any difference. It would be after call hours and Duke had no intention of letting her out of his sight even if she did have phone service,
Caitlyn yielded, her entire body turning to mush as his tongue delved inside her mouth, fluttering over hers. Feeling her concession, Duke deepened the kiss, and was soon plundering the sweetness there aggressively, as if he could never get enough. Maybe he couldn’t. Though she trembled in his tightening arms, she was anything but cold. After so long alone, so long lost, his touch felt like the first of spring’s thaw, breaking the back of a harsh, endless winter. She closed her eyes, arching her neck, silently begging for everything his talented mouth would give. Taking as he wanted, Duke fed hungrily there, and she let him. She savored his answering desire, her fingers knotting into the soft cotton of his t-shirt then releasing in an unconscious come hither, flattening again over the solid wall of muscle beneath them. Leaning harder into him, she tentatively brushed her tongue past his, raking it along the edge of his front teeth. He stiffened as the
“We should get gelato,” Duke stated as they emerged from the restaurant. The sun had shifted noticeably, but in the alleyway sandwiched between two multi-storied buildings as they were, that was as much information as he could glean with a quick scan of their environment. He glanced down at his watch. Pivoting, Caitlyn stopped a few steps away from him. “Gelato!? We just finished a three-course meal with appetizers and a bunch of wine! You can’t possibly be hungry!” He flashed her one of his beaming smiles. “Oh, I could,” he assured her, his grin growing broader as the implication of his words and the way his green eyes roved her body drew yet another of her fetching blushes. “Come on, darlin’. We’re in Italy!” He turned around once in place, his arms open. “When in Italy, you eat gelato. Besides, our meal took almost three hours. In my world, that’s time for a snack.” She snorted, shaking her head in astonishment. “I’ve no idea where you put it all.”
“How the hell am I supposed to know where she is, Rachel?” Dex shouted into his phone, frustrated and frankly scared beyond his capacity to stand any longer. “After what happened on the plane, it’s not like I can follow her! And I sure as hell can’t leave her a message.” “Why not?” “For pity’s sake, he’s weaseled himself into her room now!” At the other end of the line, Rachel froze, rooted to her spot as she paced her bedroom in the wee hours of the morning. “Wait—what happened on the plane?” “He happened.” Wiping a frustrated palm over his countenance, he continued. “That fake Duke? He’s the one who stole my seat next to her. As it happened, my new seat was still close, and since my entire reason for being on that damn flight was otherwise occupied, I had time to observe him. He’s good, Rachel. Damn good. He knows shit about her—personal shit even we didn’t know. I’m telling you, whatever is happening here, it’s bigger than us. It’s not something I
Duke wasn’t certain what it was that he’d said that afternoon that had upset Caitlyn, but he was smart enough to know that he didn’t want it to happen again. Focusing his attention on her, he pulled out the stops on his best west-Texan charms and concentrated on showing her a good time. In the end, it was nothing that he did that distracted her. Well, aside from making the suggestion to tour the Doge’s Palace on St. Mark’s Square. As their boat pulled away from the dock that evening, carrying them towards the rendezvous point for their tour at their bus, he took a seat next to her and casually but deliberately rested his arm behind her shoulders. “What kind did you get this time?” he asked, nodding towards the meager little cup of gelato in her hand. “Apricot.” Caitlyn dug the tiny plastic spoon into the cold creamy treat and scooped some out, obediently depositing it in his opened mouth like a mother bird. “I was going to get lemon, but that woman in line be
Knowing she needed time to think—more time than was feasible in the hotel’s crowded restaurant—Caitlyn excused herself to shower when she and Duke returned to their room. He’d taken his shower before their meal, inviting her to join him with his most devilish smile and one lifted brow. It hadn’t been the only thing sticking up, she’d noticed. Even though she’d tried not to look. Compared to the American hotel rooms she was used to, the room she and Duke were sharing seemed positively Spartan. The only furniture in it was the two twin-sized beds, separated by scarcely a foot of space on any side, and a hanging mirror attached to one wall. Obnoxiously bright recessed ceiling lamps provided the only lighting, and there wasn’t even an option to dim them. They were either on or off as a whole, and once off, plunged the room into pitch-blackness. The bathroom though was quite nice. Spacious enough for both a toilet and bidet, with a large bowl-like sink to one side
Tucking the thin parcel under his arm to hold it, Duke pressed his thumb against the biometric security lock at the lab door, then entered his security code. When the door released, he pulled it open, then closed behind him. He stopped in the entry room, juggling Caitlyn’s package between hands to don his long, white lab coat and a pair of safety glasses. “Hey Paula.” He gave his wife’s lab worker a polite smile and nod as he passed through the wet lab between the aquarium racks teeming with zebra fish. “Hi Duke. She’s in at the microscope.” “Thanks.” On the opposite side of the room, he passed through another door into the main laboratory space, a generous work area with water-resistant flooring, provisions for tissue cultures, microscopy, cell cultures and chemical prep rooms outfitted with biological safety cabinets. Immediately, he spotted his wife. As he’d been advised, Caitlyn was seated at one of the sturdy laboratory tables before a microscope
Turning the knob slowly, Duke eased the latch free and peered around the door into the bedroom of his suite with Caitlyn. Piercing green eyes landed instinctively on the bed, where she lay with her back to him. Her knees were curled up towards her chest, her shoulders rolled forward almost protectively. Closing the door as silently as he’d opened it, he covered the few paces to the bedside without a sound. She’d slept a lot in the last few days—healing, she’d told him. It was a sentiment reiterated by the medic with Jay’s team. But even though something about that sat wrong with him, he wasn’t going to wake her. If she was able to sleep, then her body needed the rest. All he needed was to be close to her, even if that didn’t involve touching or holding her. He’d have preferred if it involved touching and holding her. He wanted to saturate himself in her beauty, in the yielding sweetness of her warm body, to let his own stress and fear dissipate. Even if only for a little while. Al
“Mr. Ellis,” the low voice droned, filling the small sitting. It belonged to a man clearly used to issuing orders that were obeyed. For a call of this magnitude, Allie had gathered their ragtag band— Jay, Duke, Caitlyn and herself—in her suite on the Italian Riviera. When it was all said and done, it had been easier getting to the awaiting boat than Caitlyn had anticipated. Of course, gravity tended to work that way. As soon as Dex had placed a portion of his weight upon it, as Duke had anticipated, the damaged and rusted grate over the collapsing drainage shaft had groaned loudly then given way, unceremoniously dumping the three of them into the open air. Immediately, Duke had deployed the parachute to slow their fall. The fire-heated sea drafts had carried them in a descending spiral, out over the frigid water of the Adriatic where they’d landed safely. Dex slipped the makeshift harness before they’d resurfaced and struck hard for the boat, bringing it along
Caitlyn heaved forcefully as the choking fumes were piped down her throat and into her lungs, singing the sensitive passageways. She collapsed into the muck in a spasming heap. “Duke!” Squeezing onto his side, Dex dragged himself alongside the hacking, weakly thrashing woman as she clawed at her throat. Glancing back, Duke cursed. “Can you pull her?” Another rumbling explosion rocked the tunnel. This time, bits of dust and pebbles tumbled from between the stones above them. “Oh hell.” “Uh-huh. Got it.” Dex wrapped an arm around the floundering woman’s hips and braced his feet on opposite sides of the tunnel. With one arm and using the slime on the bottom to reduce the friction from their weight, he inched them both toward the exit. In the lead, Duke watched the struggling pair, debating whether he should go ahead and prepare for the jump to their escape or wait until they caught up so he could take Caitlyn from the other man. Both thoughts were immedi
“Alex!” she breathed, starting forward when he raised a violently shaking hand towards her. His thin mouth opened in silent accusation and supplication. Then both Dex and Duke were turning her, one on each upper arm with a firm grip. They propelled her swiftly through the hidden door. “Duke, the latch,” Dex ordered as they rushed into the narrow passageway. He pointed at the door, then reached for the switch to reconnect his communication equipment. “Knight 2 and 3. Asset acquired. Allie, we could use an exit plan.” As Duke released her, Caitlyn jerked herself free of Dex’s grasp. She flung herself at the door. “No! He needs my help!” Ramming the bolt home, he pivoted and grasped her by the upper arms. “Caitlyn!” he snapped harshly, shaking her once to get her attention as the light dimmed to nothingness. “No matter what he did to stay alive before, you can’t save him now.” “You don’t know that!” she cried to the darkness.
“Caitlyn!” The lump of stone that had become his heart leapt into Duke’s throat with ringing alarm. “Shut your mouth, you worthless whore!” Alex jerked the pistol at her furiously. “How dare you even speak to me like that!?” A soft gasp escaped her and she took a step backwards, closer to Duke and the meager amount of safety he presented as Alex advanced on her. She'd intended to provoke him. This was a much bigger reaction than she'd anticipated. “You have no idea! No fucking idea how I felt having to squat just to stand in your shadow!” His vicious words spat at her through clenched teeth. His bourgeoning rage scorched over her, filling the tiny antechamber with its malevolent presence. “You don’t know what it’s like to have your life’s work—the epitome of your creativity and intelligence— shown up and disproven by some pathetic little girl who refuses to see potential! To watch as you dusted your hands of it, like everything I did wa
Except in photographs, Duke had only ever seen Alex Maddox once—the day the man’s body had been moved from the hospital morgue to the funeral home where Caitlyn had made final arrangements. Frankly, he didn’t look much better now than he had in the body bag, even if he did technically have a pulse. But he had no doubt in Caitlyn’s recognition. Whatever Alex had put himself through to create the illusion that he was dying, it clearly hadn’t been without lasting effect. Not that he’d ever been particularly robust anyway. True, he hadn’t been the stereotypical scrawny, bespectacled and pocket-protected scientist obsessing over his collection of tribble plushies. Like his med school performance, Alex Maddox had been average. Average height and weight, average build, average looks. Though Duke never would have guessed it studying the skeletal creature leveling a pistol at his weeping wife. He had been fastidious about his appearance—getting a haircut every 28 days without fail and only w
Frozen in place and unable to turn away, Caitlyn watched the violence of the wild seizures as Tommaso thrashed on the hard stone floor. Each second that ticked away was a new horror as her potent chemical cocktail took effect. Within seconds, the man’s uncontrolled muscle spasms had pulled bones from joints or outright snapped them. His respirations turned into hiccupping gasps, shallow and forced and his skin flushed dark red from the fierce pounding of his heart.And then it was over.As a physician, she knew what the man’s final second had involved and she gagged, stumbling backwards a few steps knowing that she’d caused it. Catching herself with one slim hand on the edge of a lab table, she crashed to her knees and vomited. Like pulling the trigger of the gun aimed at Agent Richards, it had been too easy—far too easy to kill.She gave a weak sob, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Even with Duke’s words in her head, she knew that until she reached her foul captor’s ch
“Knight 1. In position,” Jay drawled lazily through the comms, and Duke couldn’t suppress his grin. Both he and Jay were uncomfortable, but there hadn’t been time to develop a full-scale assault plan. At most, they might get twenty-four hours before Caitlyn was either killed or sold to another terrorist group. They’d already lost seven and half hours just getting to her location. They couldn’t afford to wait. A few seconds after, Dex’s acknowledgement hissed through his earpiece. “Knight 2. In position.” Ignoring the brief bursts of chatter through his comms, Duke reached for another handhold, and pulled himself up the sheer face of the cliff on the ocean-facing side of the stone fortress. A hot twinge of pain shot along his nerves from his shoulder, as the numbing medication wore off. He gritted his teeth against it, continuing his climb. Of course, they had the benefit of some of the most advanced surveillance equipment in the world, and arguably the most brilliant mind to opera