Shock Waves by Jenna Mills Read Free Book Online

rumbled through the receiver, low, ridiculously refined. “Now, now. Is that any way to greet an old friend?”
    Ethan clenched his jaw, his fingers curling tightly around the small black phone. Years of bottled animosity burned deep. “Don’t worry. You’ll get the greeting you deserve.”
    “Soon,” Jorak promised. “Soon.” He paused, chuckled once more. “Until then, I wanted to let you know the rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated. I hated the thought of you wasting any time mourning.”
    As if there’d been any doubt. Ethan looked from Brenna’s expressionless face to the back of the luxurious limousine. A dark shield separated him from the men in front, no doubt bulletproof. Not that he had a gun. Not that he wanted one.
    Not yet.
    “Too bad. Guess I’ll have to cancel the spray of flowers I ordered. They were your favorites, too,” The memory slammed in, the tall woman with the thick, glossy blond hair, the stunning white dress, the gorgeous pink bell-shaped flowers, And the fragrance. God. He’d never forget the fragrance. “Lilies.”
    Jorak clipped out a phrase in a language Ethan didn’t understand but recognized as the other man’s native tongue.
    “Ah,” Ethan said, ignoring the wave of emotion. “I see you remember, too.”
    A low clucking sound came across the phone line. “She’s quite beautiful, isn’t she?”
    With cutting clarity Ethan saw her as he’d seen her that night, lying on the floor, broken, bleeding.
    “It’s always the innocent who suffer,” Jorak added. “Always the innocent who pay for our crimes.”
    Somewhere deep inside Ethan, something snapped, and the rage roared back, dark, violent, as punishing as if seven years had collapsed into seven minutes. “Not always.”
    “You should be thanking me,” Jorak retorted. “I could have brought you in alone.”
    Ethan narrowed his eyes, but the past kept pushing, pushing. “What the hell are you talking about?”
    “The woman, of course,” Jorak said in an enormously pleased voice. “I thought you’d appreciate some company.”
    Everything crashed into focus, and Ethan realized his mistake. This conversation wasn’t about Allison but the woman sitting next to him, with her chin at a defiant angle and her fairy eyes shining from an unnaturally pale face. Her tangled blond hair stood in stark contrast to her black leather jacket.
    Brenna. She’d called herself Brenna.
    “She is striking,” Ethan muttered, and the sickness spread. He’d almost believed her. She’d reeled him in, skillfully, diligently, until she’d made that one crucial mistake, and everything Ethan had taught himself came rushing back. Facts never lied. People did.
    “I’m sure we’ll find some way to pass the time,” he added, looking directly into her eyes. She didn’t look away the way most accomplices did, just lifted her chin higher.
    “Enjoy her while you can,” Jorak advised. “Obey and she won’t be hurt,” he added, then the line went dead, and Ethan was left staring through the limo’s dim lighting at the woman who knew far too much. “How much is he paying you?”
    Finally she reacted to something he said. Her eyes widened; her mouth slipped open. “Paying me?”
    “Is it strictly a business arrangement?” His imagination tortured him with images he didn’t want to see. Of Brenna and Jorak, the many forms of payment a man could provide. “Or is he giving you something else?” Because he wanted to frown, he forced a slow smile to form. “Something more addictive than cold hard cash?”
    For a moment she just looked at him, through him. Her eyes, usually an eerie calm, went turbulent, as though she were witnessing a heinous act of brutality. And when she spoke, her voice was no longer accepting, but laden with a scorn that punched deep. “You’re not the man I thought you were.”
    “The one from your dreams?” he shot back silkily. God help him, he didn’t want to enjoy this, enjoy her, but the