Page 63 of Saving Grace
“I just want my access back into the DEA database,” I said, rubbing my upper arms as if suddenly chilled. “No one really knows what El Segador looks like except maybe some of his victims. Rumor is that even Hector Vargas has not met his own hitman face to face.”
“That makes him a total ghost,” Matt acknowledged. “I could believe that. Assassins usually receive their assignments via clandestine methods. That way they could maintain absolute anonymity.”
“Yes, but absolutenessis a myth. He’s not infallible and somewhere, somehow, someone had seen his face.”
“Probably, but not long enough to live to tell anyone.”
“You really think he’s that good?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “I’ve never given him a second thought until he came after you.” Matt’s face hardened perceptively.
“I’m sorry for dragging you back into that life.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“The assassin life,” I said softly. “This deal with The Reaper must bring back those memories when you were one.”
Matt shook his head. “I’ve grown up with death and destruction, Grace. It’s always going to be with me. I’ve seen all kinds of shit. Done all kinds of shit. I’m your best bet, unfortunately, because I know how an assassin thinks. What I’ve never been is obsess over my mark like he is with you. You’re going to be his downfall.”
“We should use me as bait.”
“Fuck, no.”
“If you think about it, it’s a great idea.”
His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “We are never going to use you as bait. As obsessed as he is with you, what do you think he’s gonna do if he finds out you’re pregnant with another man’s child?”
My blood chilled as Matt glared at me briefly but didn’t say anything, letting the import of his words do the talking.
The Reaper, if he did harbor any dark twisted romantic notions about me, wouldn’t want me to keep a reminder of another man. We didn’t need a profiler to tell us that obsessions frequently involved deadly jealousy.
“Maybe getting married isn’t a good idea,” I said in a small voice. “It might piss him off, don’t you think?”
“We’re here,” Matt pointedly ignored my question as we came up to a double-gate. He leaned in and punched in a code. After a series of beeps, the gates swung inward. I had never been to the ranch before, but I knew this was more than a horse farm, and Colt Montgomery was anything but a horse breeder. Not that the man riding up to us on the most gorgeous stallion didn’t look fine in a Stetson and chaps. I’d met the dark-haired, former Navy SEAL a couple of times. There was a story between him and Matt’s sister, but I’d never gotten around asking Matt about it.
“Y’all are late.” Colt stopped his horse right beside Matt’s side. “Dr. Ryan’s been in The Annex for more than half an hour.”
“Blame the pregnant lady,” Matt quipped.
“Excuse me?” I exclaimed. It was he who wanted to have sex first.
Colt chuckled. “I still can’t believe you’re going to be a father.”
“Me neither,” I said sarcastically.
“I don’t get any respect around here,” Matt said in an aggrieved tone.
“You guys head on to The Annex. I need to help Mac with the horses,” Colt nodded to the smaller of two houses up the driveway.
“Isn’t foaling season not until May?”
“Yup, but I might head to DC tomorrow.”
Matt let the pickup roll slowly down the driveway so he and Colt could keep conversation.
“Porter?”
“Yeah, and the Feds and Homeland Security are anxious to establish the training camp, what with the latest terrorist attack on Atlanta.”