In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(147)

A wooden stairway led up from the parking area and zigzagged through rainforest foliage, around huge cedars. Vidcams were mounted on the trees, observing every leg of the journey. Tam and Val liked their guests to arrive on foot, single file and observed from every angle.

He would have saved this suicidal exercise for another day but for the vidcams. He’d been buzzed in at the gate and eyeballed at intervals during the drive. If he rabbited, thirty-odd people would watch him do it. More to the point, those people would watch Sveti watch him do it.

He started up the walkway, half expecting a bullet to take him down. Tam hated his guts, he’d heard. An unhealthy state of affairs, but whatever. A quick death would end his torment, too.

He didn’t even know what he was going to say to her. This imperative welled from a part of him that was not particularly verbal. But it knew what it wanted, and went after it, hairy knuckles dragging.

He didn’t have the strength to fight it anymore.

The wound in his rib pulled. His thigh spasmed. He did not allow himself to limp. The front porch was full of people when he reached the top of the walkway. Val was in the forefront, his handsome face a grim mask. Nick frowned beside him. Those two men were Sveti’s principal adoptive fathers, though all of those guys felt fiercely paternal toward her. Becca stood behind Nick, looking worried. Miles loomed in the back, his face guardedly sympathetic.

Sam stopped at the foot of the porch stairs in front of the human shield. Rachel wove her way between the taller adults, followed by Misha, who was the only welcoming face in the crowd.

“Hey,” Misha said. “What took you so long?”

Only the most unanswerable question in the history of mankind.

His tongue felt as unresponsive as a rock. “What’s the occasion ?”

“Don’t you remember?” Misha said impatiently. “They’re here to celebrate Sveti’s book deal!”

He groped for the memory. “Oh, yeah. Good for her. I didn’t know the party was today.”

“She has millions of dollars now,” Rachel announced. “Guess that’s why you’re here, right? Probably all you care about. Jerk.”

His chest jolted in a mirthless laugh. As if he gave a f*ck. He was glad for her, sure, but he hadn’t cared about money even before he’d gotten his balls tickled by the icy breath of Death.

He chose a random entry point in the mass of bodies and made for it. They gave way for him. Tam blocked his way, clad in her trademark black, red hair loose around her shoulders. Her topaz eyes blazed. “You sadistic son of a bitch,” she hissed. “How could you run out on her when she was hurt? You prick! ”

He looked past her, searching for Sveti. “She shut the door on me,” he said.

“Bullshit! You’re just punishing her for some stupid argument that was probably all your fault! What do you want from her?”

“I’m here to knock on the door again,” he said simply.

“Oh, shut the f*ck up,” Tam snarled. “You make me sick. Putting it all on her. Go find your balls before you show your face again!”

He shook his head. It was now or it was never. “Where is she?”

Tam stomped out toward the kitchen without answering. Sam turned to the others. “Where is she?” he demanded again.

Miles finally took pity on him. “Front terrace,” he said. “She bolted when she heard you were coming.”

Great. Fuck. He headed for the sliding doors and stepped outside. This was his first cliff seascape after their adventure, and it evoked a sickening déjà vu rush. His scream of denial when he’d seen Sveti fall had damaged his vocal folds. His voice was still hoarse, after six weeks.

His heart rate spiked, sweat slicked his back. His belly churned. He fought it. Vomiting all over Tam’s terrace would not help matters.

Sveti wasn’t on the first terrace. He peered down the stairs and saw her a level down. Hair whipping out like a flag, ramrod straight. His eyes drank up the sight. She did not turn.

He couldn’t fight this ceaseless pull anymore. It was like living on the end of a bungee cord. He might as well throw himself at her feet one last time. God knows, he had the choreography down.

He gripped the wooden railing as he descended. He thudded clumsily with his bum leg to announce himself, but she didn’t turn.

He leaned on the railing next to her. The cove opened before them, flanked by the arms of two ridges slanting down into the ocean, thick with conifers. The wind whipped Sveti’s hair around her face. Her profile was so delicate. The shadows under her cheekbones were prominent.

“Hey.” His brain was wiped clean. He was a stammering idiot.

Her silence said so much. He stood there and took it for as long as he could stand. “You hanging in there okay?” he tried again, finally.

She shrugged. “It rolls over me sometimes, like a tank,” she said softly, twisting her hands together. “But I think I’ve turned a corner.”

“With the book deal?” he guessed. “Congratulations, by the way. Misha told me. I didn’t know you were celebrating today.”

She smiled, briefly. “Bet you weren’t expecting the crowd.”

“Yeah, it was special,” he said. “Lots of hairy eyeballs.”

She frowned. “They shouldn’t blame you. They weren’t there.”