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  His head lowered, and she flinched away. Fighting the urge to flee, she tried again. Long, lethal fangs bit into the rope, and she snatched her hand back. “G-good dog! Tug!” He backed up, pulling hard.

  She again dove to where Liam waited below.

  Moments ago, his luminous eyes had been haunted with pain and the rage of his own death. Her valiant pirate wasn’t about to meekly shuffle through the pearly gates. Death would’ve torn him fighting from her arms.

  His eyes shone with hope and gratitude as she gave him another breath. She went up for air, encouraged Murphy to tug, and then jackknifed. Bracing her feet on the floor, she strained against the beam’s weight. The taut rope vibrated from Murphy’s strong pull. Liam lent his left arm to the effort.

  As they pushed and heaved, the timber slowly rose by inches. Liam slid his arm free.

  Together, they surged upward. Into the warm night’s embrace.

  Into light.

  Into life.

  Liam coughed violently while she helped him flounder to the rocks. Murphy dropped the rope to snag Liam’s shirt collar. Kate heaved herself out of the water. With the dog’s assistance, she dragged Liam onto dry land.

  Panting, he flopped onto his back. She scrambled to his other side, opposite the dog, and sleeked thick strands of wet hair from his face. “I’ll get an ambulance.”

  He grabbed her. “No.” He coughed some more. “I’m good.”

  “God, Liam. You almost—”

  “Thanks to you, I didn’t.” He pushed to a sitting position, which brought on another bout of coughing. “How’d you get me out?”

  “I had Murphy tug on the rope. Between the three of us, we had enough power to raise the beam.”

  Respect and approval glittered in his eyes. “Brilliant. You and Murph.” He coughed. “Worked together?”

  His hopeful tone battered the barrier around her heart. “We had to. Don’t read anything more into it.” What she’d known all along was confirmed beyond a doubt. She could never separate him from his partner. They were an incomparable team. Without Murphy, Liam would’ve drowned.

  Yet after watching Murphy tear a man’s arm to shreds, she could never trust him. Granted, he’d been protecting Liam. That didn’t make her fear him any less. Liam had said the dog would attack if he thought his handler was in danger. Every couple had disagreements—sometimes loud ones. What if she and Liam quarreled, and Murphy mistakenly thought she was about to hurt Liam?

  He coughed again, and she rubbed his back. “Let me call your brothers. At least Grady, the paramedic.”

  “In this case, you’re with the right O’Rourke, Miz Scarlett.” As his breathing eased, she relaxed a fraction. “Those boys don’t know nothin’ about disarmin’ no bombs.”

  She gestured at his sliced shirt. The water hadn’t totally leeched away the bloodstain. “What about your knife wound?”

  He peered at his side. Snorted. “Not even bleeding anymore. Takes more than a scratch to slow me down.”

  She sighed. Lord save her from testosterone jockeys. “Want me to go back in after your gun?”

  He eyed the debris-littered pool. “I’d go after it myself, but it’s buried.” He shoved to his feet. Wove a few seconds. Straightened. “We have one more bomb to disarm.”

  “Damn stubborn pirate.”

  “Arr.” He reached down a hand to help her up. His impudent glance stroked over her, covered only by a wet bra and panties. Speeding her pulse and warming her skin. “Speaking of booty ...”

  Talk about quick rebound. “Don’t start.”

  The horror of his close call suddenly shadowed his features. “Why the hell not? I could be dead right now.”

  A shiver wracked her. I could be sobbing over his cold, lifeless corpse.

  Liam’s involvement with the stalker was her fault. His death would’ve been her fault.

  “I need you, Kate.” His voice was tortured. He yanked her against him, wrapped his arms around her and plundered her mouth in a desperate kiss.

  His warm, wet—totally alive—body slicked along hers. His blazing kiss chased away cold, relentless fear. Threatened to melt her icy wall and bring her emotions roaring back full force. She longed to stand on tiptoe, wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him back.

  Sure, he needed her body.

  Because she also desperately needed him—but not just physically—she pushed him away. Torn between angst and relief, she shivered again. “Tick tock.”

  He thrust a shaking hand through his wet hair. “Jesus,” he gritted. “I’m so head-fucked.”

  “Nearly dying will do that to you.”

  “Thank all the saints we bought extra time by disarming the first bomb.” He tugged the plastic bag he’d retrieved from the crow’s nest out of the pocket of his tight breeches.

  She opened the note. The message was short and to the point. Is it Insanity to search for a needle in a haystack?

  He pointed. “Another capitalized word.”

  “Insanity. The Stratosphere has a ride named Insanity. The point on the tower resembles a needle. Can it be that simple?”

  “Simple.” He snorted as the note disintegrated. “I only have to disarm a bomb on an amusement ride that’s perched on top of a twelve-hundred-foot tower?”

  She gulped. “We’d better go.” She strode toward the car. A strangled sound behind her brought her up short, and she turned. “What’s the matter? Are you hurt?”

  Liam blinked. Then he chuckled and gestured at her body. “Talk about a moving violation.”

  She glanced down. Heat crawled up her neck. It might be Vegas, but off-duty pole dancer wasn’t a look she could comfortably sport—especially since they’d been ordered not to attract attention.

  He quickly shrugged out of his shirt, making a whole lot of hard muscles ripple in interesting places.

  She fumbled it on, her glance snagging on the treasure trail of hair that started at his flat stomach and wandered beneath the waistband of his snug pants.

  Crap, he wasn’t the only one who was head-fucked. “We have to make a fast stop to buy shoes. My sandals are at the bottom of the pool.”

  “Right. And we’ll bring our street clothes into the shoe shop and change in their dressing rooms.” He curled his big warm hand around the base of her neck, and delicious goosebumps prickled over her skin. “Just another day in Paradise,” he sang.

  * * *

  The man spying from his hidden hotel room twitched the heavy drapes back into place and threw down his rifle in disgust. He’d maneuvered them right where he wanted them. He was winning the game. Then Katherine risked her life to save her agent de police. His lip curled. She had even faced the fucking dog.

  She would never belong to him now.

  He had tried to make her love him. Instead, the whore ignored him. Just as his parents had.

  And he despised her for it.

  His parents atoned for their sins. As would she.

  He barked out a bitter laugh. Everyone thought they died of natural causes. He was unable to take credit for his clever work. Nor would he this time. No matter. Katherine would know him before she paid.

  She would scream his name. Over and over.

  He woke up his phone and hacked into her dictated electronic journal. Nothing new today. As he’d devoured her nightly entries, he’d felt she was confiding in him. Telling him her deepest fears, secret desires. He scowled. He had burned with fury when he read how she wasted her innocence on the agent de police. How could she fuck that bastard, when she was supposed to be loyal only to him?

  He’d overlooked the offense because she had run away from O’Rourke. Lived alone in quiet torment, celibate as a nun. Given time, he was sure she would turn to him. After she groveled, he would have accepted her apology. Taken care of her forever.

  But now, the cop was back in her life. And in his. Katherine had revealed her true nature. The whore was all over O’Rourke like a bitch in heat. He was tempted to shoot them both when the cop k
issed her on Britannia’s deck.

  That would be too easy. Too merciful.

  If they survived his next test, they would pay for his long, patient years of waiting. His scorching humiliation.

  He would hurt the cop. No glorious explosion for O’Rourke. He had seen a compatriot peel the skin off a man inch by inch. Had never forgotten the white-hot power rush of blood and pain. The orgasmic satisfaction in inhuman screams that’d lasted days. He had learned from the best. O’Rourke would plead. Cry. Beg for death.

  But the time for mercy was past.

  The agent de police would watch while he plucked his tarnished flower. His cock hardened at the exquisite thoughts of her terror and pain. He would finally elicit a response from her. Make her see him. Torment them both as their lives ticked away, second by second.

  He was their judge. Their executioner. Their god.

  Blood beat in his temples with the thrilling swell of invincibility. His Katherine, as cool and untouchable as the calla lilies he left for her, would burn to ashes in the scalding fire of his rage. He would purify her. Purge her from his head, from his life. Finally be free of her.

  Then he would find a woman who truly deserved him. Move on with his life.

  A much richer and wiser man.

  * * *

  Liam and Kate arrived at the Stratosphere, once again dressed in street clothes. A posted sign informed Liam that the upper deck was closed for a private wedding. He had to clear the deck without arousing suspicion. He needed Zoe.

  Using Kate’s phone, he called Aidan. “I gotta borrow your security pass and your wife ... and she’s not answering her cell. And tell her to come disguised. Head-case is probably watching.”

  “She’s conspiring with Grady on a top-secret project.” Aidan sighed. “She gets into enough jams without help, bro.”

  After a taut round of twenty questions—and a few choice words—Aidan agreed to send her to the Stratosphere.

  In less than fifteen minutes, Zoe arrived dressed as a teenage boy—complete with backward baseball cap and fuzzy soul patch. A scowling Aidan wearing gaudy old man tourist garb, including a straw fedora, accompanied her. Liam didn’t blame big brother for guard-dogging his woman. Because of Kate, he had new perspective on the male protective gene.

  A-Man pointed at his diminutive wife. “There’s a bomb up top. Ten minutes. Then I’m coming up and you’re leaving, done or not.”

  Zoe grinned and elbowed Aidan in the ribs. When he grunted and bent over, she kissed him thoroughly. Which, considering their disguised age difference ... awkward. “Ease off the testosterone trigger, SWAT. I know what I’m doing.”

  Liam turned to Kate. “Distract security at the front desk so Zoe can get upstairs.”

  As Kate headed for the desk, Zoe patted Murphy on the head. “Hey Murph. Keeping Deputy Dog outta trouble?”

  The dog’s tail swished. I try my darnedest.

  She stripped off the baseball cap and soul patch and stuffed them in her canvas bag before clipping her press credentials to her shirt, then extracting a small video camera. She fluffed her short curls, waggled her fingers. “See you in ten, boys. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.” She strode toward the elevator boarding area.

  Aidan muttered and rubbed his ribs. “That woman is ...”

  Liam slanted him a wry smile. “Exasperating? Exciting? You can’t stand to be away from her for a second, but at the same time, she scares the holy fucking crap outta you?”

  Aidan’s glance ricocheted to Kate, then back. His face creased in a grin. “Welcome to the jungle, little brother.” He sobered. “You understand why I’m not thrilled by the idea of my wife in proximity with a bomb.”

  “I’m not thrilled with this whole goatfuck. But I had to call her in. You know I wouldn’t willingly endanger her or you. If Whacko’s gonna detonate, which hasn’t been his pattern so far, he’ll wait until I’m on scene.” He scanned the perimeter. “What’s the word on the background checks?”

  “Hanson checks out. Some complaints about excessive force and aggressive behavior, but he’s clean.”

  “And the others?”

  “Daniel Tyler had some trouble as a juvvie. Graffiti, drinking, a couple counts of drug possession. He straightened out after his parents died in a car accident when he was twelve and he went to live with foster parents, now deceased. Graduated from MIT, business degree with a secondary in ecological systems. He’s respected in his field, both in the U.S. and Europe. He travels widely working his ass off at the company, but is devoted to his child. Daddy-in-law appears willing to hand him the reins when he retires. The negatives expressed about him had more to do with his wife’s tantrums. He’s known for walking away and letting her mother deal with her when she goes ballistic in public—but who can blame him there?”

  “Not me. I’ve seen a brief performance by Mrs. Drama Llama. But I don’t like him. He’s an arrogant asshole.”

  “If assholiness was illegal, jails would be bursting at the seams. Think about it objectively, bro. There’s no motive for him to stalk Kate. Kate babysitting Aubrey gives him freedom to travel. And his daughter will die if you don’t get those photos back.”

  “Point taken. What about contestant number two?”

  “Until five months ago, Brice Edwards lived with his mother. Father died two years ago, falling off a ladder while painting their house. Edwards graduated summa cum laude from a conservative college on the East Coast, then served an uneventful four-year hitch in the Army National Guard.” A-Man delivered the intel report without consulting notes. He’d always had a scary memory for detail. “Work associates describe him as quiet, brainy, and socially awkward, but pleasant. He’s talented at portrait photography. He’s been saving to open his own studio, but his mom’s medical bills and recent death wiped him out. She had cancer, ended up opting for legal self-termination. He took several trips to Paris after her death. He was there when Kate started receiving the messages.”

  “Hmm.” Liam rubbed his chin. “And the third?” Kate’s admin assistant sparked his intuition. He wasn’t sure if it was because he suspected him of criminal conduct or because the model-perfect man’s close relationship with Kate made him twitchy. Etienne’s utter devotion to her was a bit like Murphy’s dedication to him—and that mental picture was nope to the tenth degree.

  Aidan’s brows lowered. “According to Interpol, Etienne Duplais doesn’t exist. Not until almost six years ago. No family. No birth certificate. No school records or work history. He materialized out of nowhere in Paris with a passport, driver’s license, and spotty résumé as a sometime construction worker.”

  Liam glanced at Kate, engaged in animated conversation with the desk personnel. Did she know when she’d hired Duplais off the street that he had no credentials? “What about the body search?”

  “Delayed. He insisted on a warrant and lawyered up. Judge Forester isn’t available, so we’re tangled in goddamn red tape.”

  “Dammit. Did Duplais’s construction work involve demolition?” Aidan nodded, and Liam felt sick. “He’d be familiar with explosives, and have access.” For Kate’s sake, he hoped Etienne wasn’t the perp. Having your closest friend turn Judas would be shattering. He’d hate to have to arrest him—then break the bad news to Kate. “All three suspects have means and opportunity. That leaves motive. Which do I focus on?”

  “What does your gut say?”

  Grab your woman and get her the hell out of the kill zone.

  Shit, Kate had him twisted in so many knots, his instincts were snarled up. No bueno. He had to compartmentalize. Contain his feelings until Kate was safe. “Nothing clear, yet.”

  Murphy nosed his leg, obviously picking up on his tension. He stroked Murphy’s back in reassurance. “Brice Edwards has Kate’s camera at his shop. She snapped some shots during the pursuit and from Aubrey’s hospital window. I need you to pick it up, bro.”

  “You got it.”

  The elevator pinged. Doors opened. Zoe strode out, surr
ounded by a festive wedding party all in bright, tropical prints. Zealous Z was now also adorned in a fringed straw hat and a triple layer of flowered leis around her neck. “The pen is mightier than the gun.” She winked at Liam on the way past as she spoke to the middle-aged bride. “We’ll use the Strip for background shots. I’ll bet you can’t wait to see your unique wedding featured on the evening news.”

  Aidan started to follow his wife, but Liam stopped him. “Wait. I need your Homeland Security pass. It’ll help me convince the guards on the top deck to vacate for a drill.”

  Aidan turned. “What happened to yours?”

  “Long story.”

  His brother frowned. “I’ll ride shotgun.”

  “Nah. Other than eye color, we look enough alike. They’ll never notice. Now if it were Grady, with those dimples ...” His smile was strained. This was the tough part. “And take Murphy with you.” Grady was the die-hard animal lover. Of his brothers, baby bro had the closest rapport with Murphy. But the canine would obey Con or Aidan when ordered. “He can’t navigate the roller coaster or the rides, and if shit flies up there, I’ll have to evac Kate. I won’t be able to evac him too.”

  “If shit flies, will you be able to evac fast enough?”

  Liam shrugged, forcing nonchalance he didn’t feel. “I’m the Gambler.” His throat tightened. “If I fuck up and go pink-mist, tell Grady I appointed him Murph’s guardian.”

  A-Man scowled. “Wading ass deep in alligators again, Liam?”

  “Don’t go all caveman on me. If I need backup, I’ll shout.” Aidan had always fiercely protected his brothers. Which made him the ideal rear guard for the SWAT team. Liam wouldn’t want anyone else guarding his back. But to save a little girl, and scores of innocent bystanders, he and Kate had to play by Psycho’s rules.

  Kate must’ve seen Zoe leave with the wedding party, because she returned, warily staying far to his right. His spirits sank. He’d hoped that after working together to save his life, she’d learn to trust Murph. Heart aching, he gestured at his faithful partner. “Murph, go with Aidan. Obey him.”

  Murphy stared at him, hurt in his sharp brown eyes. What’s this doody? He whimpered. You can’t banish me. We’re pack.