Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

WILLOW

I 'm tired of crying. I'm tired of being one more victim of Frank Carlyle. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. She no longer recognized the woman who stared back at her, and she hadn't for a very long time. The fact that she was wildly attracted to Cage Weston wasn't a question. The only question she had was why she had thought he would be attracted or even interested in her?

It was all well and good to be told she was doing the ‘right thing' by stealing the information and that she was brave for having done it, but that was a crock of shit. She hadn't been courageous at all. She had done it to secure help in getting a new life. She figured the information would be valuable to someone. Sure, she was glad it had been Interpol and the ‘Resistance,' but if she was being perfectly honest, if it hadn't been them, she might have just sold it to the highest bidder… including the Shadow League.

And just who was the Shadow League or the Resistance, for that matter? Why hadn't she heard of either of them? If there was some sort of global conflict going on, should she have heard about it? And if she and the rest of the world hadn't heard of it, were these people she could trust? She'd made these contacts because of Katie O'Neill—she was the wife of Con O'Neill, who was a mafia kingpin. Was she really trusting her life to these people? What was she thinking?

She looked down and realized she had a death grip on the edge of the countertop. As she raised her eyes, she could see in her reflection the reason she remained on the island—Cage Weston. He could be infuriating, secretive, and a lot of other things she didn't like, but the other thing he was, was the man with whom she was falling in love.

The realization that her feelings for him was something of a shock. That she even had true, deep feelings for him was a shock as well. Even worse was the understanding that he had feelings for her, as well, and feelings that went beyond lust. He was a good and honorable man, and she wanted more from him than just an intense, but passing, affair. She would settle for that, but if she was being honest with herself, she wanted so much more. Which then begged the question, what did she have to offer him? Would Frank or the Shadow League ever give up trying to kill her? If not, did she really have the right to drag Cage into this?

The familiar dull headache and mild nausea rolled over her once again. Maybe this was why she'd never asked herself these kinds of questions—they literally made her sick. She smiled at her grim humor. She put on tinted moisturizer, pulled her hair into a messy bun and put on the most unflattering sweatpants and tank top she could find before trotting down to the breakfast table.

If she looked like shit, so be it. Her vivid dreams of Cage Weston and the pressure of living like this were starting to get to her. In most of the romance books he would have already swept her off into his bed, vanquished her enemies and they'd be living their happily ever after. That hadn't happened. She'd done her part—she was most definitely the damsel in distress. He needed to step up and do his. Yes, it was definitely Cage Weston's fault that she felt mildly sick, horny and scared. Perhaps she should point out his shortcomings to him.

She trotted down the stairs, planning to do just that, but when she walked into the dining room and saw that her place had been set, not at the opposite end of the table, but halfway down, she realized in his own way he was trying. For once in her life, Willow vowed to herself that she would give up control and let someone else run the relationship. Certainly her track record—not that there was much of one—pretty much sucked.

"Good morning, Cage," she said, taking a seat as he held her chair.

"Ah, so I'm back to being Cage."

"What do you mean?"

He chuckled. "When you're feeling frightened or vulnerable, you call me ‘Cage.' The rest of the time if you call me by name at all, I'm ‘Weston.'"

"You noticed that?"

"I notice everything about you, Willow."

"You may notice, but I'm not sure you fully understand the dynamics."

Cage took his seat at the end of the table. So, he noticed when she used his first name and when she didn't? Willow supposed that was a bit understandable in that he did seem to be in charge of everything so he'd need to be observant, but she liked knowing she wasn't so shallow that he'd figured everything out.

"Would you care to explain them to me?" he asked.

"No, I would not."

He shook his head. "You're a difficult woman, Willow."

She sat thinking for a moment. "Yes. Yes, I am."

"You like being difficult?"

"It beats being vapid and shallow."

The corners of his mouth ticked up. "Yes. Yes, it does."

CAGE

There was something different about Willow this morning, and it wasn't just her use of his first name. She'd been switching back and forth between his first and last names since she'd been introduced to him. What seemed different was most of the fear had melted away. The mild self-loathing he'd observed from the first seemed to have gone. Willow seemed to have accepted who she was, but more importantly, she seemed to have decided who she wanted to be. That anyone had ever thought her vapid and shallow said more about them than it did about her, and he knew he'd been one of them.

His respect for her had been growing ever since Carlyle had sent a hit team to take them all out, but her, most especially. Jones had reported she'd been scared, but had followed his instructions to the letter and once inside the safe room her concern appeared to have been only for Cage and the others.

"I'm going to need to make a small change in your security routine today." Expecting her to blow up, he watched her carefully.

"Okay. Do I need to do anything different?"

The calm tone and pleasant demeanor weren't at all what he was expecting. "No. There are just a few things I need to do, and can't be with you. I thought I'd have Jones provide close cover."

"That's fine. I like Jones. He's easy to be around, very reassuring, and kind of hunky."

She thought Jones was hunky? If he hadn't already set the schedule, Jones would be the last guy he'd have assigned. Perhaps he and Jones needed to have a little talk about the dangers of making a play for a grizzly's fated mate.

"I shouldn't be too long, but I need to go over some things with Colby."

"Is there a problem?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. We're hearing more chatter about the League."

"Cage, who is the Shadow League? For that matter, who is the Resistance?"

At this point, shallow and vapid might have been easier. There was no way he could tell her the whole truth, but he was tired of having to lie about everything.

"The Shadow League is kind of like a global cabal of really bad guys who want to take over the world."

"That's a bit melodramatic, don't you think?"

"If I was hearing that for the first time and had no frame of reference, I'd think so, too," said Cage, nodding.

"But you have that frame of reference?"

"I do. And calling them ‘bad guys' is probably something of a misnomer. They're evil. Pure, unadulterated evil."

"And they want me dead. That's a little daunting. Should I be afraid?"

"I think you should be cautious, but as bad as the Shadow League is, the Resistance is just as good. The League is also arrogant as hell, which is one of their greatest weaknesses."

She sat for a moment, absorbing the information. "Thanks for telling me."

"I don't think keeping you in the dark is the best way for us to go forward. You can ask me anything you want. I may not be able to answer you, and if that's the case, that's what I'll tell you."

She nodded, and they ate the rest of their breakfast in a peaceful, companionable silence. When Jones joined them, he sat down in the chair next to her and engaged her in a lively conversation regarding some of the castle's artwork. Willow seemed to have an interest in, and certain level of expertise regarding many of the pieces of art strewn throughout the castle. Jones came from money and so had at least a passing knowledge. Cage wouldn't know the difference between a Picasso and a six-year old's refrigerator art.

Excusing himself, he headed for his room, where he called Colby to give him a status report and to find out if any progress had been made on getting Willow divorced from her husband. If a final decree wasn't imminent, Cage was considering taking matters into his own hands and taking care of the matter himself personally and permanently.

Cage booted up the protected computer he kept locked in the safe in his room and was able to establish a secure link to St. Piran's and Colby.

"God, Weston, you look like shit."

"Thanks, boss, love you, too."

With their usual greetings exchanged, they went over their normal topics, including a detailed analysis of how Carlyle's men had been able to get so close to the island before they'd shown up on the radar.

"Carlyle, or most likely the League, has been able to develop a new level of jamming or stealth capability that allowed them to slip under the wider net of the fortress. We're working now on ensuring that doesn't happen again. The information your tech guys…"

"My tech guys? I thought they were your tech guys."

"If you haven't figured out they went from being my guys to being your guys, you haven't been paying attention. So, yeah, your tech guys have been able to provide us with invaluable information that has allowed us to get up-to-speed far more quickly than we would have on our own. And I don't just mean raw data, I mean detailed and in-depth analysis. They were pretty pissed that it happened, and I have a sneaking suspicion they've been working on upgrading your technology."

"You gave me a good team."

Cage grinned. Colby had a point. "I gave you good people. You turned them into a team. And trust me when I tell you they are Team Cage all the way."

"So where do we stand with Interpol and the League?"

"The League was not pleased with what they believe was Carlyle's botched and ill-conceived plan to kill Willow. While they may now know where she is—do you still believe you're secure there?"

"I do," said Cage nodding. "This is the most secure facility we have. I think if we moved Willow, we'd be putting her in more danger. Let's face it; the Shadow League's intelligence capabilities aren't far behind yours. The attack gave us valuable information about our defenses, and yes, my team has been remedying them. If and when the League mounts an attack of their own…"

"Do you believe they will?" asked Colby.

"Without a doubt. When they do, we'll be ready for them. In fact, one of my guys is working on an idea he has about the electromagnetic fields that surround shifters and how they might be interrupted to force someone to shift back." Seeing the gleam in Colby's eyes, Cage held up his hand. "It's still in the infancy stage, but I thought it was intriguing and gave him the go ahead."

Colby nodded. "Good. Let me know if he needs anything above and beyond what you have there. As I was saying, the League isn't happy with Carlyle. Our sources say that once the divorce is finalized…"

"And when is that going to be?" asked Cage, hoping his eagerness would not be noticed.

Colby grinned. No such luck.

"End of the day. If not, first thing tomorrow."

"How did you manage that?"

"Lots of money. Lots and lots of money." Cage couldn't help but grin. The lynx-shifter continued. "Once I realized it was important to you and your sense of honor, I made it a priority. As soon as the ink is dry on the paperwork, I'll make sure you know. I think once it is, Carlyle's days are numbered."

It was Cage's turn to nod. "He'll be of no more use to them even as a way to keep Interpol and Willow in check. I think I'm going to beef up our security and our patrols."

"Not a bad idea. Anything else?"

"Not at the moment, but I would appreciate knowing as soon as that divorce is final."

"Will do. If there isn't anything else, I'll sign off."

Cage ended the transmission, secured the laptop, and put it back in the safe. He had an app on his watch that would alert him if any messages came in over that dedicated line.

He hoped Willow had been getting a lot of sleep, because once his leash came off, Cage meant to see she never got a full night's sleep again.