Billi Jean (38 page)

“Huh, I don’t think so.”

He grinned that big smile she loved, tipped his head down and rubbed his forehead against hers. “You scare the shit out of me. Hawk’s daughter, all mine, and hell, if you aren’t in more trouble than I’ve ever been in my life.”

The brat!
She choked on a laugh and pushed at him, trying to get him off without much luck. “It’s not like I went looking for it.”

He eyed her sceptically and straightened, opening his truck door and getting down before turning to help her to the ground. He watched her again before smiling softly.

“I always wanted to meet you. Scared spitless every time Hawk had me out to your place, but yeah, I wanted to meet you.”

“You were? You did? But, why—? I mean…”

“Because I’d heard how beautiful you were. How sweet.” He gave her a stern look and trapped her between the truck and his body. “No one said how wild you were.”

“Russell!”

He brushed his lips, featherlight, against her cheek. “That’s good, too, because I wouldn’t have had the balls to get what I wanted from you if I’d known who you were. Now, we’re going to clear this up and I’m going to make sure I don’t see that fear in your eyes again. No more running, right?”

The man was impossible. She loved him so much. The feelings rushed up her throat, choking her and all she could do was rest her forehead against his chest and nod.

“But don’t think you can start ordering me around, Russell. I won’t deal with that very well.”

His chest shook, and she heard him laugh softly as he turned them both to the house. “Yeah, I think your old man told me you didn’t. You keep yourself out of trouble, and I won’t have to.”

“Oh, baby, you did not just say that.”

He laughed. She gave him a little punch to his arm for being such a jerk, and he chuckled louder. Something sounded not an inch from them and suddenly Russell was a heavy weight on top of her. Gunshots, dull thuds and puffs of snow hit near her face.

And, worse, Russell wasn’t moving.

Chapter Twenty-One

“What do you mean, you want to see her alive?”

“Let’s just say you aren’t as trusted to hit your mark as you think.”

“What the fuck does that mean? I work alone. I’m not meeting you, asshole.” Rage made him tremble, and at his side Mara rubbed her face along his arm and back down, trying to soothe him. It inflamed him even more. He’d tied her hands up behind her back, keeping her from touching him otherwise. She kissed his shoulder and moved her breasts to press against his arm.

“Then you’ll not be getting your fifty mil. We pay only when I see you, confirm that she’s the real thing and then you get your money.”

“Fuck that, the deal was I find out if she—”

“You’ve been dicking around for months. We want proof, not some jealousy you have for Navy SEALs to get in the way. We want proof that this is Sarah Fletcher. Alive, first, then dead.”

Mara cringed next to him at the force he exerted on her shoulder. “You want to meet me? Impossible. I can show you the girl, though—alive, then when you’re satisfied, I’ll kill her for you. How’s that? You can watch.”

Silence filled the line. The Russian contact let out a long sigh, as if still not trusting him, then finally grunted in agreement. “That will do. What will you do if this girl isn’t the one?”

Like he cared. This was the one. The hair, the name, all of that simply blurred the lines, but this was Sarah Fletcher, daughter of Todd ‘Hawk’ Fletcher, who’d been a trainer for the prissy-assed SEALs. Eric had even seen the bitch once, five years before. This was her. “I’ll do what I always do. Clear my trail.”

Another silence. This one longer. “Fine. We want her alive. We’ll be questioning her before you kill her.”

“Question her? I do hits, not interrogations.”

“You aren’t doing the interrogations. Contact us when you have the girl. When you do, then we’ll want to talk to her. Keep yourself under control, keep her alive and you’ll be fifty mil richer.”

Yeah, fifty mil richer. Fifty mil and Mara. They’d be done with this job and have enough money to never have to do this shit again. An assassin needed to know when to quit. He had all the signs of needing to quit. Keeping the girl alive might be fun after all. Especially if he caught a Navy SEAL in the net. Thinking of the SEAL, Russell Ryland, had the blood rushing to his already hard body. He might not fuck the girl, but he would fuck
with
the SEAL, and that was more than enough of an enticement to keep the girl alive a little longer.

“That’s a go, then. Girl stays alive until you have your little chat.”

Silence. “Good, then. Keep us posted. As soon as you have her, I expect a call. Immediately, Touch. Don’t fuck with us over this. Your identity might not be as secure as you like to think. Remember that if you think to double-cross us.”

Bastard was threatening him? He could hurt the Russians as easily as he could one little scared woman. He could play, though. For the money they were already paying? He could play. Next to him, Mara whimpered.

“You’ll get the call as soon as I have the girl.”

The connection ended after a long silence. The contact was one hard ass, more of a pain in the ass than most of his jobs. The man even demanded these secure phone calls. Pissed him off, since there was no danger of being traced. Not with the precautions he took.

“Well, my darling, it looks like this is going to go fast from now on. You ready to show your man how much you love him?” Mara would be his surprise in the hole. He worked alone. Always. No one would suspect him of this hit when there were two assassins on the scene.

She nodded, pale face paling even more. She was honest, though—scared, Eric could see, but if she’d acted as if she wasn’t scared he’d have been suspicious.

“Good, very good. Later we’ll move out. They’re all rounded up at the bitch’s house. As soon as they make the move, we’ll move out.” His eyes half closed and he reached out to rip her blouse in two, releasing her full breasts from the lace of her bra with a flick of his fingers. “Until then, let’s see about what you can do with this.”

“Oh, yes, please.”

Sweeter words had never been invented. He dragged her up against his chest and took her mouth in a dominating kiss. The binds he had on her hands held her back, but also had her chest arching for his mouth.

“You want this?” He unzipped, releasing his erection and reached down between this thighs to bring the truck seat back, giving her more room to work.

She moved in closer, resting her head in his lap, but didn’t open her mouth, knowing the rules well. She nodded, her pink glossy lips soft against the head of his cock.

“Good girl. Very good.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Lacey took a panicky breath, barely able to fill her lungs because Russell’s weight was crushing her. Her face was pressed to the snow, and she couldn’t stop watching the puffs of white closing in on her as the shooter kept up an irregular blast of shots.

Above her, Russell hissed something, covering her head with his shoulders, her body with his larger frame, but pulling up a fraction so he wasn’t completely crushing her. He had a gun in his hand—a big, heavy gun that looked suspiciously like hers. Another bullet whizzed by, then white exploded not an inch from their faces. She felt the coldness of the snow on her nose and cheeks and sucked in a frightened breath. Before she could cough out a scream, Russell jerked her up, half dragging her over the ground to shove them both behind the bulk of a horse trailer. More shots cut through the air, sending soft puffs of dirt accompanied by a dull thud when the bullets hit the ground.

“Fuck, fuck. Don’t fucking move.” Russell grimaced. His face was streaked with sweat. His lips were so tight she knew he was clenching his jaw. He dug into the front pocket of his big jacket and pulled out his phone, just as something like a loud boom sounded not three feet from them. She barely held in her small scream as Russell threw them down and covered her again. When she managed to blink past the melted snow on her face, she spotted a man on the porch holding a rifle, shooting towards the hills.

“Mac, we’re under fire. Get your ass down here, now. How the hell do I know? Just call for fucking backup.” Silence, then Russell glanced at her before he darted up to look beyond the edge of the trailer. She practically jerked him by the jacket backwards. He grunted, but otherwise ignored her. “Look, I think he’s in the hills. On the north side, good two hundred feet or more.” He clipped his phone closed with a snap, but stayed quiet. When he did look back at her, she wanted to hug him. He looked so intense—like warrior intense. “All right?”

All right? What to say? They were being shot at, and she wanted to scream at him for looking so—well, frighteningly good at handling all this when she wanted to curl up in a ball under the trailer. Or her bed. “Yeah, great.”

By the looks of his deepening frown, he clearly wasn’t missing her fear.

“You’re doing great, baby, hold tight.” He flinched when another boom sounded but immediately cussed over his shoulder. “Shit, Mitchell, get back in the house. What the fuck are you doing? That’s a sniper, man. That piece of shit couldn’t hit the barn. Now, hoof it into the house!”

She’d never heard him so harsh. He suddenly lunged up and she heard him hit the porch then more cussing and someone talking, then a muffled sound. No more shots sounded near her, but she wasn’t moving an inch.

Within a few heart-pounding minutes, Russell landed near her in a squat—as if he’d never left her alone, outside, with a madman shooting at them. He now had a long rifle on his shoulder and a bag in his hand. “You stay right here. You’re hidden from where he is.”

“Oh, hell, no. You’re not leaving me here again!” Panic made her tremble. Another of those puffs and dull thumps sounded, closer this time, and she squealed. Russell grabbed her hand and squeezed but continued to squint up at the hills, making her nervous. God, she hoped he wasn’t going up there. No way. She was not allowing that. She concentrated on his face, ready to fight him if he suggested leaving her. A bead of sweat dripped from his dark sideburn and into the collar of his shirt. He’d taken his jacket off and only wore a dark T-shirt that clung to his sweaty body, despite how cold it was outside. He looked intimidating, but she geared up to dig her heels in if he even suggested leaving her again.

Suddenly he turned, gave her a look she couldn’t decipher, then jerked her up and over his shoulder and ran to the house. She nearly died from choking on her own spit trying to yell at him, but realised she shouldn’t. Coughing and gasping for air, she tried to hold on to the back of his shirt while he ran through the ranch house and up the stairs. The crazy man. She hung on as best she could, and her stomach jarred into his rough shoulder with each step.

Right when she thought she really might die from lack of air, he dipped and she was standing.

“Russell!” She stalled on his name at the look on his face. He looked deadly. Hard, cold and pissed off. “Russell! Please don’t—”

“Shhh, now. You stay put. I’m going out. The boys will be in the hills already. We get this guy, then we talk, all right?”

“No, no, Russell. No. This won’t—”

He cut her off with a kiss, jerking her to him so tightly she would have bruises. His lips crushed hers and he drove in deep for a quick, but thorough conquest. When she gave in, he pulled back enough to stare down at her with such intensity that she sucked in a ragged breath to tell him he wasn’t leaving her.

“No, Sunshine, stay here. Trust me to do this. Trust me.”

With that, the silly man was gone. A door shut, another slammed, more voices and he was gone. She stood there, too stunned to move.

The panic grew impossible to control. She felt exposed, naked and vulnerable. This was so wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. She was in his room while he was out there, doing what?
Oh, God.
She scrabbled at the door, fought with the stupid handle and finally got it open. A loud sound, like a scuffle followed by a man falling, carried to her, then boots sounded on the hardwood floors. A low groan and oh, God, whoever had been out there shooting was now in here? How was that possible?

She edged back, not stepping, but sliding her feet back so she wouldn’t make a noise until she could slowly shut the door, thanking God the hinges didn’t creak. She backed away, and at the same time as she heard boots stop outside the door. It was her worst nightmare. She had no gun, no one was here to protect her, and outside that door was someone who wanted her dead.

Nothing happened. Whoever stood outside hadn’t tried the handle yet. She watched the small glass knob closely, but her vision swam. Blinking several times, she spun around in a circle, looking for an escape route or anything she could use as a weapon. Windows. Two. Second floor. But maybe she could reach the roof? No weapons stood out other than a bedside lamp. She knew Russell probably had something in here, but not a gun. He was very safe, her big SEAL—no guns out lying around for her sailor. She’d bet her last dollar Russell kept them all safely locked up, or in a place where his nephew couldn’t get hurt by them. She knew it. And now she needed one, and there wasn’t one.

She covered her mouth to hold in her laugh. She’d bought the Sauer thinking to protect herself, but the fact was, she didn’t know if she could kill a man. Take a life. Now that the moment was here, could she do it? She gave herself a quick once-over. Her legs were shaking and she was surprised that her heart hadn’t jumped out of her chest. So much for her bravery. But she knew,
knew
what would happen if that door opened. She’d not survive this time.

Her lungs burned and she realised she’d not been breathing. She couldn’t get enough air in, and only managed short, shallow breaths. A duffel bag on a chair caught her eye. She spotted a knife hilt sticking out from under the green canvas and her heart raced. She dove for it, glancing at the windows trying to gauge whether she could make it out of one when the door crashed into the wall.