Colby Conspiracy. Debra Webb
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contained. A voucher for an all-expenses-paid, two-week honeymoon in Europe from a renowned travel agency here in Chicago. When she’d found her voice, she blurted, “Martin, this is too much! I can’t accept this.”
He winked. “Sure you can. You just tell Lucas Camp that he might have stolen you from me, but you still love me the best.” His lips tilted into that lopsided grin again. “Let’s see that old bastard top this.”
Tasha couldn’t help herself. She had to scoot from her seat and rush around the table to give him a hug. She did love him. He would always hold a special place in her heart, as well as her life.
AS THE TAXI traveled east on Division Street, Tasha barely contained the urge to dial Jim right then on her cell phone and give him the news. She shivered at the idea of how deliriously happy she knew he would be. She resisted the impulse. This was too important to do over the phone. It had to be done in person.
Jim had come so far the last few months. He had made great strides in coming to terms with the atrocities that had been done to him after he’d been kidnapped from his family at age seven. He’d progressed to the point of what most people would say was normal. Anyone who met him now would never suspect that just a year ago, he’d been a cold-blooded killer for hire. His primary mission in life had been to assassinate his own mother, whom he thought had abandoned him.
Tasha shuddered at the memories of just how ruthless the alter ego Seth had been. Jim Colby had been buried so deeply under that evil persona that reaching him had been almost impossible. Somehow, she had managed to do just that. Seth had grabbed on to what she’d offered—her heart and soul—and slowly but surely Jim Colby had resurfaced—been reborn.
She would be lying if she didn’t admit that there had been some aspects of Seth that had intrigued her—still did—but he was gone for good, and it was for the best. Her life with Jim was worth every moment of pain and uncertainty she’d endured with Seth.
No. There was no way she would ever go back to the CIA or anywhere else. Jim was her life now. Jim and the baby. She was perfectly content doing research for the Colby Agency on a part-time basis. She no longer felt that burning desire to prove herself or to make her mark among the superspies of the world. This was her life, and she adored every minute of every hour.
Being plain old Tasha North—soon to be Tasha Colby—fulfilled her every desire.
She’d fought the fight of her life and won, had walked away with the kind of love few ever found, and now they were about to move onto the next level…marriage and a family. The latter was a little sooner than expected, but she was definitely up to the challenge. The thought of carrying Jim’s child made her tremble with anticipation. She pressed her hand to her flat belly, closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. Jim would be thrilled!
When the taxi reached her street in Old Town, Tasha dug out the fare and a nice tip. She looked up at the Queen Anne row house that she and Jim shared, a present from his mother, Victoria Colby-Camp. She loved the house. It was perfect. But Tasha hadn’t mentioned to Martin how she and Jim had gotten their cozy home. As much as she appreciated his wonderful gift, Victoria had cornered the market on gift giving. She had spent the last year trying to make up to her son for all they’d missed since his abduction nearly nineteen years ago.
Tasha hopped out of the cab and strolled up the walk to her door. She inhaled deeply of the night air, enjoying the clean scent of the recent rain that still lingered. She hesitated before unlocking the door and surveyed the sky and the stars that had peeked from behind the clouds. She wanted to remember everything about this night. Wanted it to hold a special place among the memories she and Jim were making together.
Another rush of pulse-tripping anticipation launched her back into gear. She couldn’t wait another second. She had to tell him the news.
No sooner had the key turned in the lock than the knob was twisted out of her hand and the door jerked open.
Harsh fingers dug into her forearm and hauled her inside.
Before she had a chance to react to the stab of fear a lethal masculine voice demanded, “Where have you been?”
Even in the dark, even with her heart pounding like a drum, Tasha recognized that voice—felt the malice in it penetrate all the way to the very depths of her soul.
Seth.
“Jim.” She reached through the darkness, tried to touch him. What could have brought about this relapse? Something had to have happened to—
He slammed her against the wall. “I said,” he snarled, “where the hell have you been?”
Tasha’s body started to quake. She struggled to steel herself against the fear and worry running rampant inside her. “I’ve been to dinner,” she said calmly. “You knew—”
“So you just take off?”
His face was pressed so close to hers she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek, could smell the liquor. Jim never drank, not anymore. The doctors had warned it might destabilize his condition.
Renewed fear raced through her veins. One doctor in particular had warned that Jim was still vulnerable, that a break from reality could occur unless strict precautions were taken to insulate him from the slightest stress. But he had been okay for months. He was well…happy…he was Jim, the man she loved.
The baby. Oh, God. Hurt knotted inside her. Please, God, not now. Don’t let him regress. Her thoughts whirled frantically, futilely. There had to be something she could do to stop this…to bring him back…
“Jim, please, tell me what’s happened?” She hated the quiver in her voice, the desperation. He’d been through too much already. It just wasn’t fair for him to spiral back into that abyss all over again. Not now, after he’d come so very far.
“Shut up and take off your clothes,” he commanded savagely. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Tasha froze, considered her options. Did she play along and hope he snapped out of whatever the hell this was, or did she fight back? Not now. Not knowing that she was pregnant.
“Jim, let me call your doctor,” she pleaded, praying she would somehow get through to him.
“Stop calling me that,” he warned, his muscular body pinning her to the wall. “Little Jimmy died a long time ago,” he taunted cruelly. “Now stop stalling.”
He wanted sex. Okay, she could play along. Surely he would snap out of this.
Drawing in a steadying breath, she reached toward the top button of her blouse. Her fingers shook before she could stem the reaction.
“You’re too slow,” he growled, then ripped open her blouse.
She bit down on her lower lip to hold back a gasp.
“Hmmm,” he breathed. “You smell so sweet.” He licked a trail down her throat and across her shoulder. She shivered, couldn’t help herself. “You like that?” He breathed the words on her damp skin.
“Please, Jim, let’s just talk,” she begged, suddenly fearing that he would take this too far… Damn, she didn’t know what to expect.
But she had to protect the baby.
His hand closed brutally over her breast and Tasha knew exactly what she had to do.
She went limp in his arms, surrendered completely. His full attention was focused on the breast he’d revealed. His mouth landed there and she made a sound of encouragement. As he kissed his way back up to her throat she rammed her fist into his unsuspecting gut.
He staggered back, doubled over.
Acting on pure instinct now, she landed a kick to the side of his head, forcing him to the floor. Then she made a run for it.
At the same instant that her fingers curled around the doorknob, his manacled around her ankle, closing like a vise.
She screamed,