Billi Jean (39 page)

Her heart nearly burst, but she managed to reach the bag and tuck the knife in her jeans, then back up to the wall and turn to face whoever had entered before he saw her hide the knife. She hoped. Lance, her client from weeks ago, stood there, his big body filling the doorway. But this time, instead of jeans and a shirt, he was dressed in white and blue BDUs, his over-tanned face covered with a white ski mask. There was a gun in his right hand, pointing steady and straight at her chest.

“Well, Sarah Fletcher, you’ve led me on a chase, haven’t you?”

Oh, God. Her stomach bottomed out. Actually, hit her toes. She was so dead. The heavy weight of the knife seemed like a joke compared to the reality of the gun aimed at her heart. Her throat dried as the certainty of her situation settled over her. This man was going to kill her.

She swallowed twice and fisted her hands to keep the tremors hidden. Something gave her enough strength to realise she needed to appear calm.

“A chase? I was here all the time.” Why hadn’t he killed her that first day? If this was the hitman, why wait? And why not kill her now?

“Yeah, here, or down there in your snug home, all safe and waiting for your knight in shining armour. Where is your SEAL now?”

She refused to answer him. He must know where Russell was, but if not, she wasn’t telling him. “What did you do to his uncle?”

He pulled off the ski mask and smiled, that fake grin from before. The gun didn’t even move. “He’ll live. He’s some old man—he’s got a bump, nothing more. But you, you’re a SEAL’s daughter, and now you want to be a wife to one, huh?”

A wife. Did she? To Russell? Yes—yes, she did. He hadn’t asked, but she knew he would. He loved her. He would save her, too.

“If he wants me, yes.”

Rage filled his dark eyes. Hadn’t they been blue before?

“And you’d do anything for him, wouldn’t you?” he snarled.

“Yes, I would.”

“Really? Anything, huh? Tell me,
Sarah Fletcher,
what would your daddy say to you whoring yourself for a man?”

“Did you know my father?” She edged farther away, but he held the gun aimed right at her, following her movements like a snake.

“I knew him. Fuckin’ pain in the ass.”

She refused to show how much that pissed her off. Her dad had not been a pain in the ass—his men had loved him. All of them. Even Russell.

“That piss you off, babe? Well, let’s see how bad you want to live, shall we?”

Live? Why live? Then she knew. He reached down and began unbuttoning his BDUs with one hand, jerking the gun with the other hand for her to move closer. “Come on, babe, on your knees. You do it right, and I might make you my new pet.”

“Kiss my butt, asshole.”

He paused, his gun steady and watched her just as steadily. She could see the outline of his erection under the material of his pants.

Her fear escalated. She couldn’t hear anything beyond the jerk’s heavy breathing. If he so much as got near her, she’d bite his dick off. Or maybe he’d loosen his pants enough that she could trip him. Panic started to set in, making her tremble. The knife pressing against her spine taunted her. Gathering her courage, she swallowed and slowly moved one hand back against the wall, towards the knife handle.

“Ah, so you want it rough? I like it rough, too. I was holding off on rough, but we can do it that way first.”

“If you touch me, you’re going to die.”

He smirked and continued on with his unzipping. “I don’t think so. Your man is halfway to the hills, and we have plenty of time to waste here until he gets back.”

Fear made her knees weak. He wanted Russell here?

“Ah, come on now. He won’t mind. Not for long. Can’t let him live. He’s seen me. So have you. Can’t have that.”

Oh, God.
He was serious. He started towards her, his belt keeping his pants securely in place, taking away the option to try to trip him. She kept her eyes on his face, her hand closing in on the handle now. He seemed so absorbed in whatever fantasy his sick mind had conjured up that he didn’t notice.

“You’re going to be dead soon. Russell will kill you. If he doesn’t, Mac will. But you are going down.”

He stalked her. Each time she tried to move away, he followed, but she managed to get him so that he wasn’t between her and the door. Still, now he was only a few feet from her.

“Come on, don’t be shy. I know you gave it to the SEAL. Russell, is that his name?”

As if he didn’t know. She refused to speak, but inched back another step, running out of room. Russell’s dresser was at her back now, and this sicko was moving in and she was out of options. She pulled the knife free, held it up like a shield and braced her legs.

He looked amused. “You know, if you’re going to pull a knife you’d best know how to use it.” Without any warning, he jumped her, knocking the knife out of her hand without her even knowing how. Her back hit the floor and the air rushed out of her lungs when he landed on top of her. She was choking, crushed, but she still fought to free her hands. The gun landed on the floor and skidded out of reach above their heads. She gasped when one hand broke free from his grip but, before she could do anything, he grabbed both her wrists in one of his fists and squeezed them tightly. The pain made her weak, but she twisted her hands and jerked her body, trying to break free. He shoved her chest down hard and squeezed the bones of her wrists until she was certain he’d break them.

Suddenly, he pulled up and slapped her across the face. She gasped and jerked back to face him and he hit her again. Her head hit the floor next to them with the force of his blow and she felt blood ooze from her burning mouth. Pissed off, she kicked her legs, trying to tangle hers with his and break free. When she couldn’t, she screamed. He hit her again, this time so hard she felt blood fill her mouth. His other hand grabbed her throat and cut her scream off. Blinking up at his devilish face, she tried to stay alive, awake, as he crushed her.

She wasn’t going to make it. She could feel her ribs nearly breaking, and she couldn’t catch her breath. She gave one more attempt to get free, driving her head into his face to crush her forehead to his nose. The next instant, he was gone. She gasped for air past the pain in her throat. Her body felt shaky, her face hurt and her ribs dug a sharp pain up her side, but she struggled up, gaining her knees and grabbing the gun that lay not two inches from where he’d held her down. Sharing the space with her, Russell and Lance fought like men possessed, nearly running her over in their battle.

She hunched over and tried not to breathe too deeply as she watched Russell. He had turned cold and hard. The killer the Navy had trained him to be. She winced as he landed a fist on Lance’s face. Russell pressed forward, landing two more furious jabs, then tried to tackle Lance to the ground.

God, it looked like Russell was going to kill Lance. Lance was just as determined. He hit Russell in the stomach repeatedly before throwing a punch to Russell’s head and narrowly missing. None of it slowed Russell’s attack. He simply stalked Lance like prey, circling and circling him until he found an opening, then landing blow after blow. Another strike on Lance’s face, and blood glistened down the assassin’s split lip. Lance spat and rubbed a wrist over his mouth with a nasty grimace.

“That’s it? All you got, sailor boy?” After his taunt, he spat on the bedroom floor and ducked down, charging Russell.

Both men hit the wall. A painting crashed to the floor. Russell’s back hit a dresser, shoving it along the wall two feet before he tore the other man off and tossed him up against the closet door. Lance ducked Russell’s fists and broke away to hit him in the face with enough force that Lacey screamed.

The gun trembled in her hands, but she forced herself to hold it ready. She could do this. She could.

Russell nearly managed to knock Lance down with a hold on his waist, but Lance gripped Russell’s waist and shoved him back. When Russell stumbled, Lance bent and quickly drew a long blade from his boot, swiping at Russell with a nasty snarl.

He sounded more animal than man to Lacey. She lifted the gun and tried to aim, but every lesson her father had ever taught her had been wasted because fear had her shaking. What if she hit Russell by mistake?

Metal glinted in the sunlight, and Russell barely caught Lance’s arm to prevent him from stabbing the sharp steel down into his chest.

She sucked in a breath. Why didn’t Russell kick him away? Why didn’t he turn to her and take the gun? He had to know she had it.

Instead, the two men struggled together until she wanted to shoot Lance.

Right when she thought she’d have to pull the trigger, Russell twisted in Lance’s hold. She watched him twist Lance’s arm until she expected the arm to break under the strain. The knife dropped, and Russell hit Lance with a brutal uppercut to his jaw, sending him toppling backwards and down to the floor.

Before she could process what was happening, Russell was on top of Lance, one fist rising and falling with a sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh. She looked away and covered her mouth with trembling fingers. If she could have, she would have covered her ears to muffle the dull cracks of fists on flesh, but she didn’t dare in case Lance managed to get up.

Silence suddenly echoed through the room.

When she got up the courage to look again, Russell met her eyes and everything else fell away. Relief filled her in a whoosh, and her legs felt weak. Her hands started to shake and she feared she’d drop the gun, but Russell gripped her hands and prised her fingers off the stupid thing. Within her next inhalation he hauled her into his arms. He was sweaty and hurt, she knew, but his heart was beating steady and fast under her cheek. Her own pulse raced, and she began to shiver. Shock, she knew, but the trembles grew until Russell cursed and bent to scoop her up.

“It’s all right. It’s all right. I have you. I have you, talk to me. Sunshine? Come on, now.”

Her eyes stung with tears at the breathless, panicked tenor of his voice.

“Sunshine, talk to me, here. Come on. Did he hurt you?”

She tried to answer, she really did, but all that came out was a sob.

Russell exhaled and nearly crushed her in his arms. One big hand ran up and down her back, and his other curled around her waist while he rested his cheek on her head. She could feel his body tremble. Unsure why, she sucked in a ragged breath and pushed to gain some room. He reluctantly released his death grip on her waist, and she tipped her head back to examine him. He was bruised, his lip cut, his jaw red and swollen and it looked like one eye was darkening, but he was alive.

“He got in, Russell. I told you not to leave me.”

He grimaced. “God, I’m so damn sorry. So fucking sorry, look at you. Look at your bruises. I’m going to kill him.”

“Russell. I want him gone. I want…”
To be safe.
Another sob broke past her control.

“I’m going to take care of this. I am. Trust me, Sunshine. Trust me.”

“Russell…”

He hushed her with gentle, all-too-brief kisses. “Trust me. Come on, now, we have to secure this asshole. Didn’t I tell you not to let shit like this in our house?”

She choked at that, and stared up at him.
Our house?

“Come on, don’t look at me like that. We need to get moving. Come on. Can you stand up for me?”

She sniffed and brushed her hair behind her ear. “That guy was a weirdo, Russell. Don’t leave me again. Promise?”

Underneath her, she felt Russell’s thigh tighten. He tipped her head up, cupping her neck with his hand, and brushed her bottom lip with his thumb.

“Never again, all right? I won’t leave you.”

She nodded, biting her lip at his hurt face. He’d saved her. He’d been trying to keep her safe, and he had. She reached up and kissed his cut lip. “Russell, you’re all busted up.”

He grinned down at her, breaking her heart with the happiness she saw in his grey eyes.

“This is nothing. Come on. Let’s take the trash out.”

She shook her head and tried to smile. “God, you are awful.”

“And all yours. Don’t forget that.” Grey eyes narrowed; Russell leaned in and brushed a kiss to the side of her mouth. “I love you, Sunshine,” he husked in her ear.

Her heart lifted, feeling as if it had bubbled up and pressed against her throat. “I love you too, Russell.”

He growled and wrapped her up tight in his arms. They both heard the footsteps on the stairs, but this time neither of them cared when Mac grumbled and told them he’d got the sniper chick on the hillside and they needed to get a room.

She was home. This
was
her room. She had Russell. He had her. They had each other. There’d be no more running scared.

Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:

When You’re With Me

Wendi Zwaduk

Excerpt

Chapter One

“I need a lover who will drive me crazy in all the right ways…”

Detective Drew Alwyn tapped his pen to the beat of the song in his head while he waited for Lieutenant Wallace to begin the briefing session.

In his twelve years with the Carrington Falls Police Department in Ohio, Drew had never imagined being alone. Wasn’t a cop supposed to have a good woman to come home to? The next time he walked into his apartment, a wilted spider plant would offer the only comfort, and Drew wasn’t the type to talk to greenery.

The scent of day-old coffee and industrial cleaner wafted into the cramped, grey discussion room. Drew rubbed his stomach to quell the rumbling. Coffee sounded awful, but a sandwich sounded so good—something with roast beef and cheese. When had he eaten last? The club sandwich at eleven-thirty. He flicked his wrist to check the time on his thick watch. Five-fifteen. Damn.

He grabbed the bottle of soda from his backpack and uncapped it, then took a long draw. The sugar wouldn’t quiet his hunger, but the caffeine would keep him awake when he ventured on duty in an hour. He took a pen from his notebook, clicked the button at the top and began doodling. The sound of conversation in the hallway did nothing to take his mind off the undercover operation or the death of his friend and colleague, Sergeant Randy McCall.