In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(40)

She’d refused to speak to him that day, of course, being mortally pissed at the way he’d conducted his investigation. Hadn’t stopped him from looking. Staring, even, until she blushed and fled the room.

His obsession with detail, underscored by lust, had burned the directions into his brain. He reached the driveway at midnight. There it was. Tamara Steele and Valery Janos, stenciled boldly on the mailbox.

He drove up the long, winding access road, which wended along the crest of a coastal hill. The house was an architectural marvel, parts carved right into the mountainside, parts jutting out over the cliff that overlooked a private beach in an inaccessible cove.

He bypassed the small parking lot below the house and parked next to Val and Tam’s cars up in front of the garage.

The door opened as he approached. Tam’s slim form was backlit in the entrance. She held a shotgun, though she knew damn well who it was, with all those cameras on her access road.

“Where’s Sveti?” he asked.

“What are you doing here now? It’s the middle of the night!”

“I’m not in the mood for bullshit,” he said. “Take me to Sveti.”

“That girl is like my daughter, and she’s sleeping. It’s an indecent hour. Get back in your car. Go to the motel on the highway. Come back in the morning. Maybe I’ll find it in myself to be civil to you then.”

“I was there for her when she needed me, Tam, so put down your goddamn shotgun and get out of my way.”

She racked it back. The sound was loud in the gloom.

“Stop,” she warned. “I decide who walks into my house, and when. And I am absolutely capable of filling your ass with buckshot.”

“My ass isn’t pointed in your direction,” Sam said. “If you want to shoot me in the face, do it. But I don’t think Sveti will thank you for it.”

“He has a point, love.” Val appeared behind Tam.

Sam was close enough now to see Tam’s face. Her mouth was tight, her eyes and nose red and swollen.

“Val, would you just back me up for once?” she snapped.

“Of course,” Val said. “Always. Just not when you are wrong.”

Rachel appeared in the hallway, a toddler in her arms. “Mama?”

Tam’s eyes did not waver. “I told you to take Irina upstairs.”

“Mama, don’t be mad at Sam!” Rachel said earnestly. “He saved her! Sveti said so! She’d be dead if he hadn’t gone after her!”

“Go upstairs, Rachel,” Val urged.

Sam pushed past Tam and her gun, and stood there, stymied. It was a large house, and the search would be long and slow and stupid.

He turned to Val. “Where is she?”

Val’s eyes flicked to his wife and back, resigned. “East tower.”

“Goddamnit, Val,” Tam hissed.

“Face it,” Val said with a shrug. “If you are not prepared to hurt him, you cannot stop him. He saved her life. You are being foolish.”

“Fine, then,” she snarled. “I’ll just hurt you instead.”

“I was afraid of that,” Val said wryly. “I think that tonight will be a very long night.”

“This way,” Rachel said excitedly. “I’ll show you.”

The girl scampered on ahead down the corridor. Sam followed, his heart thudding. Tam and Val were on his heels as Rachel led him into a door that revealed an open, metal spiral staircase. Rachel’s bare feet flashed at eye level as she spiraled up, light-footed even with Irina in her arms. The toddler twisted to look down over her sister’s shoulder at Sam, making inquisitive gabbling sounds.

“Don’t wake Sveti, Rachel,” Val called. “She’s exhausted.”

Rachel pushed open the door at the top with exaggerated care, and put her finger to her lips. Irina pointed helpfully into the dark room. “Setty,” she announced, her voice shrill. “Setty sweeping.”

He was lucky there were children here. Even the thorny Tam didn’t have the stomach to blow him into bloody chunks in front of her daughters. Though she clearly considered Sveti one of those daughters.

But the thought evaporated when he entered that room. Rachel snapped on a desk lamp. Tam hissed a sharp reproof from the door.

The slender figure curled beneath the blanket on the bed stirred at the snap of the light, and turned. Her eyes looked huge and bruised in her face. She jerked up onto her elbow. The blanket fell down. She wore a thin, tight tank top, loose flannel pajama trousers. “Sam?”

His tongue felt thick, taking up too much space in his mouth. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely.

Her face crumpled. “Oh, God. Oh, Sam.”

“Setty cry?” Irina sounded worried.

“Okay. You’ve seen her,” Tam announced briskly. “Satisfied? We’ll take it from here, Sam. She needs rest. Come on. Out.”

Sam ignored her and walked toward the bed. His throat felt hot and tight, like a screw was turning in it. Every step tightened it up, to that last quarter turn that threatened to shatter the whole mechanism.

Her arms lifted up, welcoming him.

He thudded to his knees by the bed, and fell into them. He forgot Tam, the kids, Val, the rest of the world. There was only Sveti, taut and trembling. Her arms, wound around his neck, pulling him hungrily.