Books

Cast A Long Shadow

Ellie Holt, an ex-CIA operative who is hiding her new career on the gray edge of the law, becomes the target of an assassin’s vendetta when her current job goes bad. Now her life—and heart—lie in the hands of billionaire Jake Granville, a man who has already betrayed her once.

Chapter One

Fort Worth, Texas

22 November, 18:00 hours

The last thing Ellie Holt expected to find when she stepped out of the penthouse suite’s shower was Jake Granville’s kiss-off gift blazing its precious stones on the polished wood of her hotel room dresser.

For a jet-lagged heartbeat she simply stared at the necklace in disbelief. It couldn’t be the same one. She’d disposed of hers more than a year ago, in New Zealand. After he ripped my heart out, the son-of-a-bitch.

She took a step closer and the towel she’d secured around her breasts began to slip. Grasping the material with one hand she reached out with the other, fingers tingling, to explore the necklace’s catch. And there it was; white gold and diamonds in the shape of an “E” and “H”. Ellie Holt.

Pain. Shock. Fury. Regret. They sliced through her so fast they left her dizzy. But there was no doubt. It really was the embarrassing symbol of her naivety that glowed and sparkled in the lamplight. Glowed and sparkled, as she had on the day he’d given it to her, and only hours before she’d realized what it meant; it’s been fun, here’s your hat.

Heat crept up her face as she relived snippets of conversations whispered by beautiful women with saccharine voices and avid eyes.

… dating close to a year now, so she’s well past her use-by date.

… skinny little thing. Can’t hold a candle to the last one, bless her heart.

… doesn’t like to be tied down but he’s generous when it’s over.

She should’ve listened. Read the signs. But the end, when it came, hadn’t been a sign. It had been the equivalent of a brickbat in a dark alley. At the time she’d been too distressed to fight. Now it was a different story. If Jake Granville were here now, she’d tell him exactly… The hair on the back of her neck lifted.

In an almost balletic movement she pivoted around from the dresser to face the bed. But even before she completed the turn she knew what she would see–only her camouflage for the evening’s event: black dress, black slip, black bra, black lacy panties and sheer hose–laid out with careful precision on the pristine white coverlet.

That’s all.

No war-zone of sheets and pillows. No tossed boots or half-torn clothes. No one leaning back relaxed against the headboard watching her, a smile playing on his lips, blue eyes glinting under half-closed lids, hunger smoldering–

With a muttered curse she snipped the memory like a frayed thread. Okay. That was stupid. Jake wasn’t here. Besides, he hadn’t known what she’d done with the necklace. Only one person could have accomplished this sleight of hand, although God alone knew why.

Wrapping her towel–and her indignation–more securely around her, Ellie flicked damp hair out of her face and stalked through the connecting door into her great-aunt’s room.

“Tell me, Maida,” she said with controlled sweetness. “What part of ‘I’ll go back to America and play my part if you promise not to interfere in my life’ did you misunderstand?”

Seated in front of a brightly lit mirror Madeleine des Forges met her gaze in the mirror and lifted one improbably dark eyebrow towards an even more improbably dark hairline. “And good evening to you too, Ellie. I misunderstood nothing, and I never interfere. I merely rescued several thousand dollars worth of truly spectacular jewelry from inappropriate disposal by someone not in possession of her right mind.”

Couldn’t argue with “spectacular”. Wouldn’t think about the cost. “In my opinion, its disposal was entirely appropriate.” She ignored the “right mind” jibe.

Maida’s brow lifted slightly higher. “Trust me, cherie, it was not. One may return jewelry to the giver. One may sell it. But one never throws it away.”

When one’s heart’s been ripped out by the giver one did whatever it took to survive. “I didn’t. I asked you to donate it to charity. I’m not wearing it, Maida.”

“Why not?”

The empty hole in her chest where her heart had been, throbbed. Burned. Because he’ll be there. Because he’ll see it. Because he’ll think I still have feelings. Still want–“It clashes with my dress.”

Her aunt gave an unladylike snort. “Then choose another dress. Mon Dieu, child. Black. It’s all you ever wear nowadays. I may be ninety–”

“Eighty-three–”

“–but this is a still a party, a celebration, not a wake.” Maida’s face softened slightly. Her tone did not. “Have you so little self-respect? You’re not yet thirty, and Le Bon Dieu did not give you that face and figure to waste. Do you wish to appear as though you’ve spent the last several months in mourning?”

The burn in Ellie’s chest flared at the accusation. “I have,” she snapped.

“For Blake, yes,” Maida nodded. “But not for Jacob Granville. No man who truly loves treats a woman as he did you.”

The burn ebbed and then died, the heat of her anger dying with it. With her usual insight Maida had not only hit the nail on the head but also through the plank and out the other side. Did she want to give Jake Granville the satisfaction of knowing how much he’d hurt her? Hell no. Bad enough that she knew. That Maida knew.

She sighed. “I hate you.”

“That’s the spirit.” Maida flashed the gamin grin that for the last fifty years best-seller media hounds had called “captivating”, “sly”, “deprecating”, or just plain “enchanting”. “Now, if the necklace means nothing to you then wear it as though your wearing it means nothing. Never let a man know what you think of him. Use your emotion for your own benefit, to enhance your own beauty. Hate. Love. Both bring light to the eyes and fire to the heart.”

Then tonight she’d glow like neon and burn like napalm. “Not to mention foot to the backside.”

“Precisely. Now, Cinderella, you shall go to the ball. But,” a slight frown creased between Maida’s eyes, and she finished in her usual crisp tone and slightly accented English, “Not in that towel, and not in the black. Might I suggest the midnight blue? Oh, and the silver shoes.”

With the ice-pick heels. Why not? She was going to hate every second of it anyway. Might as well risk breaking her neck. “Do you want to select my underwear too?”

“Thank you, but I believe I’ll forego that pleasure in preference to a gin and tonic a little later.” Maida waved her away. “Off you go. I don’t want to keep our driver waiting when he arrives.”

“God, no. Anything but that.”

Torn between annoyance and a growing sense of unease Ellie returned to her room and frowned down at the clothes on her bed.

“What bat’s flapping around in her belfry now?” she muttered as she returned the black dress to the wardrobe and took the midnight blue from its hanger.

Because something was up. Usually when Maida was “getting into persona” for even a simple book-signing she could out-diva an entire opera cast on opening night, so on the night of the launch of her one hundred and twenty fifth thriller for her to merely deliver a lecture was incredibly self restrained.

But why involve the necklace? Was it some kind of romantic setup? Ellie almost laughed at the thought. However, while Maida should be the last person who’d want to see her “settled down”, she was the first person who’d force Ellie to face and conquer her demons.

One of whom was Jake Granville.

Who’d be there tonight.

Doubtless with his bimbo of the month.

Which used to be you—

Flicking her mind off and her hairdryer on she concentrated on the mundane routines of makeup and dressing. Finally, she slipped into the silver shoes and whirled around in a couple of dance steps in front of the full-length mirror. No, the heels probably wouldn’t kill her, but they’d make a good weapon if she needed one. She did another little wiggle, smoothed her dress over her hips and stared at her reflection. It stared back at her with its chin lifted. It looked ready for a fight.

Good. So am I. Because there was going to be one. Oh yeah. Even if it was only with her own heart.

“Are you dressed, Ellie?” Maida called from the next room.

“Almost.”

She gave herself no more time to think, simply strode to the dresser, picked up the four strands of pearls as though she did it every day, fastened the catch with only a little fumbling, and settled the sapphire in its diamond setting so it nestled in the hollow of her throat.

“It suits you.”

“Yes, it does.” And that was annoying too. She glanced at her aunt’s reflection. Maida stood behind her leaning on her ebony and silver cane, her face its usual calm mask. But her gaze as it rested on the necklace held some strong emotion. Sorrow? Pain? “What’s wrong, Maida?”

Maida lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “There’s nothing wrong, per se. I was thinking how the past forms us into what we are. How you’ve changed. Grown. Matured. How proud I am of what you’ve done and what you do. And”–her mouth dipped at the corners–“how your father and mother would skin me alive if they ever found out the real business I dragged both their children into.”

Ellie pushed away the memory of her brother’s casket disappearing slowly into dark earth. Her mother’s grief-ravaged face. Her father’s tightly controlled stoicism. “So let’s make sure they don’t. Are you worried about tonight?”

“Not about tonight. But about the mission? Yes. Blake did not have your skill at repossession work but he would not have had the emotional challenges you face–” Maida stopped, cleared her throat. “I’m not saying you cannot handle yourself.”

“I know.” Ellie kept her own voice steady with an effort. “I also know you’ve waited a lifetime to find this proof and we either take the risk now or we walk away forever. You’re the boss, Maida. Change your mind, by all means, but not because you’re afraid I’ll lose focus. I won’t let you down.”

In the mirror their gazes met. Held. Maida’s hand with its be-ringed fingers and blood red nails touched Ellie’s shoulder. Tightened. “You’re still young, Ellie. I’m ninety—“

“Eighty-three.” Ellie reached up and patted the older woman’s hand. “And with your luck and flair you’ll still be doing the can-can when I’m pushing up daisies.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” For a moment Maida looked all of her years, and more. “Think carefully, ma ange. How many who trained with you are already in the ground?”

She didn’t want to think about it. “One is one too many.”

Maida nodded. “That’s true. So listen well. Of those who served with me, I am the only one, the only one left. I don’t want my life for you.”

“This isn’t the time to–” Ellie began, but Maida’s fingers squeezed even tighter.

“I don’t want my life for you,” she repeated, “and before we walk out that door tonight let me reiterate my terms; I will not allow you to commit yourself to take my place until you’ve explored your options fully. No, don’t argue. That’s my final word. We’ll complete this business and then you will take as much time as I deem necessary before I will accept your pledge. Is that understood?”

Eighteen months ago Ellie would have leaped at the chance to reconsider. Now? What was the point?

“Is that what this”–she tapped the sapphire with her forefinger–“is about? Options?”

Maida shook her head. “No. You’ve said Jacob Granville is not the one. I won’t interfere.”

“Oh Maida.” She didn’t even try to hide the disbelief. “What a load of crock.”

“But there’s Merlin.” Maida’s dimples twinkled. “What a lovely boy. If I were fifty years younger I’d fight you for him.”

She sighed. “If you were fifty years younger he wouldn’t give me a second glance.”

But Maida ignored her attempted sidetrack. “And there are the other cousins. Scarecrow? Quelle surnom! And Domino, is it not?”

“Yes.” And Snowman and Hawk. Gorgeous men, all of them. But they’re not Archangel. She shook the thought away. “Would you like a drink before we go? Gin and tonic?”

“Thank you no.” Maida’s mouth softened. “Consider it, mignon. The O’Connors and Donovans are families of wealth and power. You would want for nothing.”

I’d want for love. “I’ll think about it.” When hell handed out snowcones.

“After this trip?”

Although phrased as a question it wasn’t one. “OK.”

“Promise me.”

“Look, I said I would.”

“Regardless of my condition.”

“What?” Ellie’s gaze flew to her aunt’s face, and under her light makeup she felt blood begin to drain from her cheeks. “Are you ill? Is it your heart? Your hip? For God’s sake, Maida, why didn’t you say? This is just like you. Think you’re bloody bulletproof at ninety. What’s the point of nailing this bastard if you’re going to kill yourself doing it? We’re getting you on a plane home first thing in the morning.”

Maida flicked an impatient hand. “I’m not ill, and I don’t intend to become ill. I’m only eighty-three–”

“For another couple of days–”

“–and I’m quite capable of making my own decisions about where I want to be. Which, this week, is here. In Texas.”

“And about this Thanksgiving thing. I–” A sharp rap on the door to the suite was enough to derail Ellie’s train of thought. “Damn. Is it that time already?”

“Perhaps slightly early,” Maida announced, stepping back and giving Ellie one last comprehensive study. “No matter. You look very well. Strong. Vibrant. In charge.” The dimple in Maida’s cheek peeped out. “Like a woman seeking a new lover.”

“For heaven’s sake.” Ellie scooped up her evening purse from the dresser. “Sometimes I think you go all French on me just to piss me off.”

Maida’s chuckle followed her out of the room. “Mais naturellement, ma petite.”

The security intercom monitor into the penthouse suite showed a bellboy in the hotel’s green and gold livery standing far enough back from the door that she could recognize his face.  “Yes?”

“Miss des Forge’s limousine is here, ma’am.”

“Thank you. We’ll be right there.”

She flicked the monitor off and turned back towards her bedroom. Maida was no longer there but the connecting door between their rooms was ajar. She poked her head around the jamb.

“Are you ready?” she began, and then stopped at the sight of Maida seated on the bed, several white cards in her hand, and her wrap beside her. “What’s wrong?” she asked, pushing the door further open.

“I dropped my notes.” Maida didn’t look up from the cards she was shuffling into order. “Rachel said she was sending Merlin to escort us. Was he not there?”

“Merlin?” Then at least she knew there’d be one person present on her side tonight. “No. I only saw the bellboy. He’s probably out there wondering what he’s done wrong. I’ll go and get him in a moment.” As she spoke Ellie walked to the bed and sat, leaning forward so she could look into Maida’s eyes. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Maida shook her head. “But I will be. When this is done. When this is over.”

Knowing her aunt wasn’t talking only about the evening’s event and after dinner speech Ellie rose to her feet. “That’s what we’re here for. Take your time. Merlin and I will wait in the sitting room.”

She left the same way as she’d come, drawing the adjoining door closed behind her, and headed back to the main door of the suite determined not to worry. Maida was entitled to her weak moments. She had very few of them. Besides, it would give Ellie a chance to hear the most urgent family gossip before she had to put her game face on.

She reached for the door, unlocked it, and flung it wide, a smile already curving her mouth.

The young bellboy had been standing not far away. He straightened, his eyes widening.

But her gaze flicked past him and over to the softly lit seating area in the foyer and the man turning towards her, and away from the dancing lights of the cityscape framed in the picture window. Tall. Dark. His casual stance at variance with the formality of his evening clothes and the intentness of his gaze.

Not Merlin.

She had only a breath’s warning to school her face. To act yet another lie.

“Hello Ellie,” Jake Granville said.

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