Out of the Shadows

  Also by Tiffany Snow

  In His Shadow, The Tangled Ivy Series

  Shadow of a Doubt, The Tangled Ivy Series

  Out of Turn, The Kathleen Turner Series

  No Turning Back, The Kathleen Turner Series

  Turn to Me, The Kathleen Turner Series

  Turning Point, The Kathleen Turner Series

  Point of No Return, The Kathleen Turner Series

  Blane’s Turn, The Kathleen Turner Series

  Kade’s Turn, The Kathleen Turner Series

  Blank Slate

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2015 Tiffany Snow

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781503949522

  ISBN-10: 1503949524

  Cover design by Eileen Carey

  To Emily—and women like her—who make their voices heard and take back their lives.

  Your courage and strength are an inspiration.

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Devon drove through the night as though the devil himself was at his heels. A part of his mind couldn’t stop replaying the images he’d seen in Beau’s apartment. Ivy, fighting for her life against Clive, then again against the FBI agent and his men. It had taken every ounce of training and self-discipline he had not to storm the hallway and kill those who’d taken her from him.

  From him.

  He didn’t know when he’d begun to think of her as his, but it didn’t change the fact that Ivy belonged to him now. Perhaps it had been the moment he’d first walked into that bank and seen her, so beautiful and lovely, she’d taken his breath away. And she’d been completely unimpressed by him. Even now, as deadly serious as things were, a smile tugged at his lips as he remembered the barely concealed disdain she’d treated him with, as though he was as far beneath her notice as a mere peasant to a princess.

  Or maybe it hadn’t been love at first sight, but had been the night she’d lain in his arms and told him of the horrors she’d endured as a child. Her voice matter-of-fact as though recounting a laundry list. Completely unaware of her own strength, delicate in form and appearance, but underlain with a refined steel, she was a package of resilient femininity whose inner beauty and light hadn’t been dimmed by the tragedies of her life.

  Becoming something more than what you thought you could be, that was something Devon could relate to. Adversity tended to bring out the reality of what someone was made of, either turning them bitter and angry at the vagaries of fate, or taking whatever was good within and refining it, turning it into a more pure distillation of their being.

  Ivy was the latter, and he liked to think he was, too. He’d also like to think he’d been good for her, helping her to see herself as he did. But at the moment, he was more concerned about her physical well-being than her emotional and psychological one.

  It was a twist of fate that Ivy should be the one the old man had chosen to vaccinate against the virus his father had created, so many years ago. Devon winced when he thought of what could have become of her had he not been the one to realize what had been done. But the vaccine that had saved her life now made her invaluable to too many deadly players.

  The streets were empty of traffic at this hour as the wheels ate up the miles from the city center to the suburb where Devon knew Vega would be temporarily housed. It always amazed Devon, the places where the Shadow kept offices around the world to be used strategically on a moment’s notice. St. Louis was ideally located, situated nearly dead center in the US.

  Vega already knew of Ivy’s immunity and had ties to the Americans that could work in Devon’s favor to locate Ivy. Given her prevailing interest in the Shadow’s control over the virus, Vega should be as willing to regain custody of Ivy as Devon was.

  And Clive. Devon couldn’t forget Clive. A shudder went through him. He’d been careless. He hadn’t made certain Clive was dead that night in Kansas, and Ivy could have died because of it. Instead, he’d taken her. But where? To Vega? And why hadn’t he been the one to bring her back?

  All these questions and more were swirling through Devon’s mind as he pulled into the vacant lot of the small, three-story office building. The ground was wet from rain, and his shoes slapped against the pavement as he went inside.

  The empty hallways were well lit but sterile, as Devon entered the lift. Holding the button for the ground floor, he waited. The light blinked twice, then a small panel slid open. Pressing his hand to the screen it revealed, Devon waited for the scanner to finish. A voice then came from the speaker inside the lift.

  “Agent identification complete. Welcome. Please proceed.”

  The screen disappeared and the doors closed.

  The car descended two levels before coming to a stop. When the doors opened, Devon was quick to exit, his steps sure as he walked to a door at the far end of the hallway. He rapped twice, then let himself in.

  The office was a far cry from the linoleum floor and fluorescent lights of the exterior. Devon’s shoes sank into plush carpet as he entered the office, closing the door behind him. It was a large room, big enough to hold a couch and two chairs, plus an expansive maple desk. Windows lined one wall, though underground, their glass displaying an image of a bright morning in the city of London, beamed across the ocean so the woman who sat behind the desk would feel at home no matter her location.

  If someone saw her on the street, they’d never guess who she was or of what she was capable. Of average height, she was an attractive woman, but not striking. Exceedingly well preserved, there was faded beauty in her features, from her carefully coiffed hair that never was allowed to touch her shoulders, to the expensive tailored suit in a warm ivory. Pearls she rarely went without gleamed at her throat. Always in sensible, low-heeled shoes, Vega was the high school English teacher that no one ever talked back to because, frankly, they were too afraid of her.

  Though Devon had never fallen into that group of people who feared her. Vega had taken him in when he’d been stripped of everyone he loved in a brutal IRA bombing, leaving him an orphan. They’d had a stronger, closer relationship than any of her other recruits into the Shadow. She’d given him a purpose and identity, and never let him go about feeling sorry for himself.

  “Sometimes life doesn’t turn out how you expect, Devon,” he recalled her saying to him. “You have to take the hand that’s been dealt to you and make of it what you can. No one can do it for you. It’s your decision to make. It’s your life, but I can help you live it.”

  Devon had taken the advice to heart. He’d dedicated himself to the Shadow—to Vega—completely. Had trained and done his job better than any other agent, without ever once questioning Vega’
s orders. He’d trusted her implicitly, with his life, for as long as he could remember.

  “Devon,” Vega said, glancing up from a file she was perusing. “It’s rather late for a visit. To what do I owe the honor?”

  Devon took a seat in one of the two leather chairs opposite the desk, unfastening the single button on his suit as he sat down.

  “We’re in a spot of bother with the Americans,” he said. “They took something of mine.”

  “Oh?” A pair of reading glasses was perched on the end of Vega’s slim nose and she removed them, sitting back in her chair to view Devon. “And what is that, pray tell?”

  “More of a who, actually,” he said, careful to keep all emotion from his voice. It wouldn’t do for Vega to know how panicked he was at the thought of Ivy being beyond his reach. “Ivy. The FBI has become aware of how . . . special . . . she is and in their usual clumsy way have blundered into kidnapping her under the guise of national security.”

  Vega regarded him silently, waiting, he assumed, for an explanation as to why she should care about this development.

  “I want her back,” he said.

  “Our relationship with the Americans is tenuous at best,” she said.

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “And why would you want me to jeopardize it for this one woman? Who isn’t British, I might add, but an American herself?”

  Devon chose his words with care. “It’s my fault she’s in the position she is,” he said. “I feel responsible to free her, set things right. Her involvement wasn’t of her choosing.”

  “I’m not sure I would agree with you,” Vega said dryly. “I doubted your judgment when you took her to Amsterdam and I’m doubting it now.”

  “Then perhaps you’d concede that it is in our interest to have her under our control rather than allowing her to remain with the FBI.”

  “My scientists were able to get a blood sample from her and are studying it as we speak. I’m not certain she’d be of any more use to us whether the FBI has her or not. Or whether she’s necessary period, dead or alive, for that matter.”

  Devon realized that what he’d suspected had been correct after all, and his heart gave a lurch. Clive had taken Ivy to Vega as his own bargaining chip. “Clive been around lately?”

  Vega didn’t blink at the abrupt change in topic. “He was, but left some hours ago. I sent him to Geneva on a mission.”

  Devon nodded. “And what mission is that?”

  “Not yours, in case you’re wondering,” she replied dryly, closing the file that had been lying open on her desk. “In fact, I don’t believe you’re required stateside any longer.”

  Devon’s sixth sense was kicking into high gear, not only at the casual and flippant way Vega had dismissed Ivy, but also at how she wanted him out of the US. And Clive was in Geneva? Ridiculous. The man had been in no condition to be given a mission.

  “So you expect me to leave Ivy? You know I’m ready to exit this business. I was hoping to do so . . . perhaps with her.” Devon had once told Vega he was fond of Ivy and was ready for a change. At the time, she’d taken the news with little comment.

  Vega sighed. “Yes, that’s what you said. Are you really fancying that you’re in love again? With this girl, no less? I’d expect it of someone who was your equal, but she most certainly is not.” Her disdain could not have been more clear.

  Devon frowned, studying the woman who’d taken him from nothing and given him a profession, a meaning for living, and made him an extremely wealthy man in the process. Her cynicism took him slightly aback.

  “You disapprove?” he asked.

  Vega shrugged. “What you choose to do in your personal time is your business, as is who you do it with. But you’re an extremely valuable agent. I have put considerable effort, not to mention expense, into your training. I am not overly enthusiastic at the prospect of your retirement.”

  “Enough to tell the Americans about Ivy?”

  There was a pause as Vega regarded him. “Are you accusing me, Clay?” she asked, her voice deceptively calm.

  “I find the timing of Ivy’s disappearance terribly . . . convenient for you,” he replied.

  “I think you forget your place,” Vega snapped. “I’d tread carefully, if I were you.”

  “Or else what?” Devon replied. “You’ll fire me? I’ve already quit.”

  “Quitting isn’t an option. This job isn’t like you’re working in a shop.” Vega’s voice had turned steely. “You don’t get to quit.”

  A hard knot formed in the center of his gut, but Devon’s face remained blank. “So when I signed up, it was for life,” he said.

  “Exactly.”

  “I considered retirement when I married Kira. You didn’t have a problem then,” he said.

  “Oh, didn’t I?” Vega sat back, resting her elbows on the arms of her chair. “Another foolish relationship. I must say, too many of my agents seem prone to flights of romantic fantasy. Surprising, considering you kill people for a living.”

  The memory of finding Kira’s broken and bloody body flooded Devon. He had left her alone and unprotected and could never forgive himself for that. Heartbreak, despair, and crippling regret echoed through him as he thought about her sightless eyes, which had seemed to accuse him of failing her. The dawning of a terrible thought nibbled at his mind as he looked at Vega.

  “Kira,” he began, but his voice broke and he had to stop to clear his throat. “Kira’s murder. No one knew where I’d hidden her. No one . . . except you.”

  Vega’s gaze was unflinching.

  “Tell me,” he said, horror giving way to rage. “Tell me you didn’t betray me. That you didn’t send them there to torture and kill her while I was away doing the mission you had sent me on.”

  “Your allegiance is to me,” Vega said, her voice cold and hard. “And cannot be questioned. I’ve done what was necessary to ensure the Shadow’s continued existence . . . and yours.”

  “You comforted me, told me it was too dangerous for me to be with anyone. That Kira was dead because of me,” Devon accused, not wanting to believe the truth, though it was spelled out there for him. He’d been so happy with Kira, unable to believe he’d found someone who cared for him as much as he had cared for her. Although he’d been nervous about telling Vega of his decision to marry, wondering how it would affect his job with the Shadow, it hadn’t once occurred to him that she’d be anything but pleased.

  Devon stared at her. “How? How could you do that to me?”

  The question, the pain in the words, caused the first break in Vega’s composure. Her demeanor cracked.

  “It was in your best interest,” she said, her hands fluttering slightly, as though she were flustered. A condition Devon had never before seen afflict her. “You were going to throw away everything for an ephemeral emotion that had temporarily made you lose your senses. Kira’s death was necessary, though regrettable.”

  “Regrettable?” Devon’s fury made his hands clench into fists, his voice rising. “They raped and tortured her! She died in agony, and you call it regrettable?” The knot in his stomach turned to lead, threatening to overcome him with the pain of the past.

  “I trusted you.” His voice was a rasp of sound, full of rage and despair.

  “That’s your problem, Clay—you trust. Trust no one. That was the first lesson I taught you. You would have done well to heed it. I’d hoped Kira would be a permanent lesson, but it appears even a man as clever as you needs to be told twice.”

  Needs to be told twice. The words reverberated inside his head, turning around and over as he replayed events from a different perspective now.

  “How long have you known about Ivy?” he asked, already thinking he knew the answer.

  “Long enough to know I needed someone close enough to watch you.”

  “It’s the agent, isn’t it?” Devon said. “The FBI agent. It was never a coincidence that he took such an interest in Ivy.”

  Vega’s lips curve
d in a thin smile. “See what I mean? Clever. Of course, not as much as me. The agent’s presence was . . . fortuitous.”

  “So did he come willingly into the fold, or did he have to be persuaded?”

  “The Shadow has sleeper agents that are activated when required,” she said. “An American FBI agent is a particularly valuable asset to have.”

  “Was Anna’s death also regrettable? Don’t tell me you also didn’t conveniently allow her location to slip to Heinrich.”

  “Clive made the same mistake you did,” Vega retorted. “And I’ve had to spend entirely too much time running about cleaning up the ties you and he made to civilians.”

  “And where is Clive now?”

  “Clive was used as a lesson to your precious Ivy,” Vega sneered, gripping the arms of her chair and leaning forward. “I’m fonder of you and had hoped to spare you the pain of another death. I persuaded Ivy that it would be better for your continued good health if she ended things between you. Clive helped me . . . illustrate the point.”

  Clive was dead. And it was only by the whim of the sociopath sitting across from him that Ivy wasn’t dead, too.

  The tension in the room was palpable as Devon and Vega stared at each other. After a moment, she relaxed her posture and settled back again.

  “Are we going to have a problem?” she asked, the deadly calm of her voice sent a chill through him. “I let Ivy live, but that can change. It’s up to you.”

  “You’re threatening me,” Devon said.

  “I’m reminding you,” she countered. “Of your duty, and your purpose, which is not to marry the girl and ride off happily into the sunset. Those dreams are fairy tales meant for children.”

  Devon stood, refastening the button of his jacket. “I’m getting Ivy back. Once that’s done, I’ll end my association with her. But I will not let you determine that her fate now be in the hands of those who’d use her as a science experiment.”

  Half of that was a lie. He would not be dictated to by the woman who’d murdered someone so dear to him. It was only through the self-control honed by years of biding his time that he was able to hide the rage burning through his veins. He wanted nothing more than to reach across the table and strangle with his own hands the woman who’d betrayed him. But he was well aware of the danger lurking behind these walls. Someone was always watching. He’d be dead before his fingers even touched her skin.