Shadows and Silk
A
MacKenzie
Novel
By Liliana Hart
Copyright 2012
by Liliana Hart
Barnes and Noble
Edition
Surrender, Montana
The frigid wind howled
with
fury, cutting through clothes and skin like a knife, and laying claim to a normally
peaceful landscape. It was the first storm of what promised to be a long and turbulent
winter. Gray clouds—pregnant with snow—roiled across the sky, and a blanket of white
, soft powder
would cover everything
before morning.
The ground was bitter with cold, and the smell of fresh dirt and gunpowder lingered
in the air long after the final shots had been fired. Dusk loomed on the horizon and
Darcy
MacKenzie
watched as the last of the DEA cleanup team removed the bodies of Miguel del Fuego’s
men, wiping the violent scene from existence with the expertise of men who were good
at making things disappear.
They loaded the remaining bodies into a black panel van and disappeared down the long,
paved driveway that led off her property, and she was left alone with nothing but
fading adrenaline and the one man put on this Earth to make her crazy.
Darcy shivered and hugged her arms across her chest. Her white cable knit sweater
and jeans weren’t enough protection against the weather, and added with the shoc
k of what had just happened,
she couldn’t seem to control the shivers that wracked her body. She shifted on her
bare feet, rubbing one
foot
on top of the other as she tried to warm them.
There hadn’t been time to stop and put on shoes once the gunfire started, which was
damned inconsiderate of del Fuego’s men, considering they’d interrupted a cozy dinner
by the fireplace and a whole hell of a lot of sexual tension. Brant had been a hairsbreadth
a
way from finally giving into
temptation and kissing her brainless, and though he’d landed on top of her once the
first shots were fired, it hadn’t been in the way she wanted.
The way she craved.
“There are bullet holes in my house,” she said, assessing the damage to her home.
The big farmhouse was made of gray stone and heavy timber, the porch going around
on all sides. It was a postcard in the middle of acres of green fields, rolling
hills
and white fences. Except now there were bullet holes lodged in the mortar, the hanging
baskets of winter ivy hung in broken clumps of wire and dirt, and
the white curtains billowed from
the
shot out
windows. Her parents were going to have kittens if this wasn’t fixed by the time
they got back from their trip.
“The agency will send a construction crew out to make repairs,” Brant said. “It might
be be
st if you go and stay with one of your
cousins for a while until the mess is cleared away.”
If he hadn’t spoken, she wouldn’t have even known he was there. He never made a sound
when he moved—like a big jungle cat stalking its prey—only he’d made it very clear
he had no interest in coming after her.
“Yeah, right,” she said, laughing. “They all have so many kids that
they
can barely fit in their houses. The
MacKenzies
have no problems with fertility.
At least on that side of the family.
I’ll just put plastic over the windows and make do. I’ve got an extra heater I can
use in the bedroom.”
Darcy finally turned to face him, remembering vividly how close she’d come to tasting
him. She’d been in love with hi
m
since she was sixteen years old, and damned if it had faded like she’d been told
those first infatuations would. She had a sinking feeling it was the real thing. If
she hadn’t been
absolutely
certain he was attracted to her
in return
then she wouldn’t have pressed so hard.
But she’d seen him watching her when he thought she wasn’t looking, and she’d seen
the way his eyes had darkened with lust and his breathing had changed whenever she
happened to stand too close. And she made it a point of standing too close often.
None of the men she’d met in the last ten years had made her want like Brant Scott
had. It was his face she dreamed of when she pleasured herself in the lonelines
s of her own bed, and his name that
escaped
her lips when she finally found satisfaction.
Even now, she was drawn to the magnetism of the sheer maleness of him. The gun at
his side was as much a part of the man as the vivid green of his eyes or the slightly
crooked tilt to his nose he’d received after a game of football with her brothers.
His black cargo pants and shirt were dusted with plaster and small pieces of glass
from the bullets that had ripped through the walls and windows. His blond hair was
buzzed close to his scalp and the stubble of his beard was close to the same length.
She also noticed he had a pair of her tennis shoes in his hand.
Death had come too close today. If Brant hadn’t had one of those infamous moments
of intuition he was famous for and thrown his body over hers in the nick of time,
then she knew with certainty she’d be as dead as del Fuego’s men. Nothing had ever
scared her more than watching as he’d headed towards danger with his weapon drawn,
and wondering if he’d return to her in one piece.
“It’s your ass that’s going to be freezing, sugar. If you want to stay here that’s
fine with me. I’ve already been called to another assignment.” He smirked at her with
superiority like he had when she was a teenager, trying to keep the distance between
them. “I’ll be soaking up the sun while you’re freezing in the middle of nowhere by
this time tomorrow.”
Pain ripped through her at his declaration. Just once she wanted it to seem like it
was hard for him to walk away from her. It could be months before she saw him again.
But she’d known Brant for a long time and he wouldn’t welcome her worry, so she co
vered the fear with false bravad
o and a lot of attitude, fisting a hand to her hip and giving him a sneer that was
bound to ignite his temper. She loved to see that flash of wildness in his eyes, especially
since he held himself so rigidly in check all the time. This was the last chance she’d
have for a while. She wasn’t going to let him walk away without breaking past that
wall he’d built between them.
“Just make sure you get that crew here before you go basking in the sun. If this house
isn’t fixed by the time my mother gets home
things aren’t going to be pretty. She’s
no one to mess with.”
“What’s wrong, sugar? Afraid she’s going to ground you
for misbehaving
?”
Darcy narrowed her eyes before she realized he was baiting her. He never stopped trying
to remind her that there were too many years between them. At barely twenty-
four
, she was just finishing up her second Master’s Degree—this one in Mayan Civilization—and
she was about to start work on her PhD in the spring. And at
eight
years her senior, Brant had been an agent for Homeland Security since its inception
and a Navy SEAL before that. Despite the sizzling attraction between them, the fact
he’d lived his life and chosen
a
path
that was wrought with danger
was something he never let her forget.
He didn’t have room in his life for complications.
“
I’m not the one who should be afraid. Someone is going to have to explain how her
grandmother’s mirror got broken.
I’d be more worried about her
hunting you down and unmanning you
.”
“Many have tried,” he said. “None have succeeded.
”
Darcy took a step closer, so her breast brushed against his arm, and she smiled as
his nostrils flared with desire. He’d been denying the chemistry between them for
too long, pushing her away when the flame had been burning hotter and higher between
them. And spending three weeks in each other’s pockets had only intensified the flame
to scorching proportions. She looked him up and down slowly, heat rushing to her cheeks
at the obvious bulge behind his zipper.
“Maybe you just haven’t met the right woman,” she purred.
His eyes dilated to almost black and his nostrils flared as her hand skimmed down
his arms and took the shoes from his hand. She pushed past him, putting a little extra
swing into her hips as she headed toward the barn. She wasn’t quite ready to face
the disaster of the inside of the house just yet. What she needed was a hard ride
at neck breaking speed to release the rest of the tension and, if she was honest,
the anger
over the fact
that he was leaving again.
“You’re playing with fire, sugar.”
She l
aughed huskily, a seductive tone
she hadn’t been aware she possessed, and kept walking. “I don’t think so
,
Agent Scott. You’re the one who’s afraid to get burned.”
The game had gone on long enough. It was time for him to claim her once and for all
or walk away forever and stop the incessant teasing. It was time for him to move
on from
whatever had happened in his past to give him such a grim view of relationships. If
he didn’t want her then she could put all her focus on her career. But it was time
for him to make a decision or ride off into the sunset.
“Goddammit, Darcy.” He cursed. “You’re taking things too far.”
“And you’re not taking them far enough. I never figured you for a coward.”
She never heard him
come
up behind her. His grip stung her arm as he spun her
around and
pulled her close. His breath heaved in and out of his chest and she could see the
anger etched in the lines of his face.
Her eyes widened as the ferocity of his gaze bored into hers, and blood pounded
through
her veins.
Her nipples tightened to hard buds and moisture pooled between her thighs at his
dominance.
“You don’t know what you’re doing, Darcy.”
“You underestimate me.” She placed her hand on his chest and felt his heart thumping
wildly beneath. “I know exactly what I’m doing. Just like I know that you want me
so bad you can hardly breathe.” Her hand trailed down his chest, across the taut ridges
of his abdomen, and rested just above the waistband of his pants.
“You have to know this can’t go anywhere.
I can’t give you what you want. There are no picket fences in our future. Just a
night of mindless fucking to quench this need that’s been pounding at us for years.
Is that what you want?
”
he asked, shaking her shoulders as if he desperately wanted her to disagree and walk
away.
She knew he believed what he said
, but that didn’t stop his words from hurting any less. There was still a girlish
hope inside of her that he might stay. That he might love
her
the
way she loved him
.