Dare You to Run (24 page)

Where the hell did it leave them both? Wanting each other, sure, that was a given considering they couldn't keep their hands off each other. So was that all? Was there anywhere to go? His head was pounding with the need to know. Honestly, he was fucking desperate to discover the answers.

And he was equally aware that it scared the hell out of him, because he was pretty sure that when he got the answers to those questions, the information was going to separate him from Damascus forever.

Because she was right about one thing. The bad guys won. A lot.

*   *   *

“Rise and shine.”

Damascus blinked and raised her head off the pillow. Vitus was standing there, looking too awake for her groggy senses. She glanced at the window and found it just brightening with dawn.

“Roll out of that rack. It's training time,” he informed her.

That gained her attention, sharpening her senses. “What kind of training?”

“Hand-to-hand defense.” He offered her a smirk. “So you can depend on yourself. I think that's what you were saying you wanted, self-reliance.”

“Sort of.”

He offered her a half grin. “You don't want to be my princess?”

She nodded, sitting up and sweeping her hair back from her face. She was a disheveled mess but his features softened for just a moment as he considered her. Damned if it didn't make her feel beautiful. He watched her face, witnessing the knowledge work its way through her brain before he nodded.

“Ten minutes. Be ready to sweat.”

It was a challenge, one that gave her the hope she'd been desperate to grasp the night before. She tossed the bedding aside and hurried toward the bathroom. She hadn't met this side of Vitus, but there was one thing she was sure of, she wanted to get to know him.

Sure about that? I thought you were leaving him.

It was a chilling thought, but one the bright light of day helped her fend off. There was also something to be said for living in the moment.

So that's exactly what she was going to do. At least until reality knocked down her house of cards.

*   *   *

Pratt considered the fuzzy pictures from security cameras at the airport. Relief was a welcome feeling but at the same time, he didn't stop to enjoy it overly long. He was on to thinking of ways to use the information in his hands.

“Thinking of double-crossing me?”

Pratt stiffened but held himself still, keeping his back to the Raven. There was a click as the door to the street closed.

“You'd have shot me a long time ago if that was the sort of game I played,” Pratt replied. “I'm seeing what there is here, what might be useful.”

“And what have you found?”

Pratt felt his heart accelerate. Now that he'd tracked the girl, he was a loose end, one of the only ones who knew truly where Damascus Ryland was.

“Bateson, he's got his fingers in a lot of business.”

“He does.”

Pratt considered the tablet and the personal aircraft on the screen. “I think he has the girl. A man such as him understands the value of her.” Pratt tapped the screen, looking as more video was streamed. “He could have had her flown anywhere on the globe from that airfield. Three planes went out within an hour of her landing. That is by design.”

“The man wouldn't be who he was without running his life in a very controlled manner.”

Pratt nodded. “He's part of the World Health Association, the research division.” Pratt swept his fingertip across the screen of his tablet to change what he was looking at. “That girl, she's loaded in the brainpan. A man such as him doesn't waste his time. Even when it's a sweet little girl who's been kidnapped. It was in his interest to help her.”

“Very good,” the Raven cooed. “I want you to go and get her. Finish your assignment. Bateson is no fool, but alone you might be able to slip under his security net.”

Pratt didn't bother to answer; there really was no need. He didn't have a choice. No one failed the Raven.

*   *   *

“You're getting better.”

Damascus resisted the urge to grunt at Saxon. He was sitting in the kitchen watching her with a tight set to his lips. But the glitter in his eyes betrayed how much he was enjoying her training sessions with Vitus.

Her elbows were bruised, her body ached, and she was probably dragging a trail of dirt and leaves with her into the cottage, but none of that seemed to matter. Nope, every pain only added to the satisfaction glowing inside her. She trudged through to the bedroom she'd been using and on to the shower.

Hot water was a necessity. One she was pretty sure she was going to perish without. She tugged her clothing off and stood under the showerhead as she let the heat ease her muscles.

But she felt time ticking away now. Another day gone, and she realized they were all on borrowed luck. She indulged in a last moment of relaxation before turning off the water and leaving the shower.

Time to face facts.

*   *   *

“I need to return to Washington.” Damascus decided on a direct approach. Saxon, Greer, and Vitus were all clustered around a table when she emerged from the bedroom.

“At the moment, we've been told to dig in with you,” Vitus replied with an unwavering look toward her. “That's what we're doing.”

“I have to return,” she insisted.

She had their attention now. All three of them shifted, abandoning what was on the table in favor of trying to strip her defenses down and discover what she was thinking.

“Why?” Vitus put the question straight to her.

“My mother.”

Her answer wasn't what any of them expected. “I realize you didn't see that answer coming, but Jeb really is a monster. He threatened to put my mother in a private clinic if I didn't marry Carl Davis.”

“You agreed to the engagement?” Vitus demanded.

“Of course not.”

“He's a hell of a catch in most people's opinion,” Saxon added.

“Not in mine,” Damascus argued. “You saw my face when I came out of that restaurant. Did I look like I considered myself a lucky duck?”

Saxon offered her a dry chuckle. “Your face matched your hair.”

“Besides, Carl is…” She bit back the word “gay.”

“Is … what?” Vitus was watching her, picking up every little emotion crossing her face.

“Is just making plans with my father … to bring in more votes. I don't want that life,” she explained. “Not that either of them is all that much interested in what I think. That's why I need to return. Jeb won't give up and at the moment, he has my mother to strike at me through. So I have to go back.”

There. It was a neat, logical, truthful explanation, even if she'd held back a few bits of personal information. She stared straight back at Vitus as she felt him and his comrades assessing. They knew what they were doing too. She'd stood in front of a pack of Press and felt more confident.

“Your mother is a very respected lady,” Saxon said. “Even your father will have a hard time harming her.”

“What part of private clinic didn't you hear?” Damascus pressed the issue. “Jeb will do anything, to anyone, if it gets him closer to his goal. You both know he doesn't play by the rules. I can't in good conscious hide out while my mother is wearing a target because Jeb thinks it will get me into line.”

“Going back will accomplish what he wants, getting you back under his thumb,” Vitus said softly.

“Obviously I will have to face him and deal with this.”

Vitus was shaking his head. “As you've pointed out, Princess, your daddy doesn't play by the rules. He could just as easily have
you
admitted for treatment.”

It was a solid truth, one that chilled her blood but at the same time motivated her.

“Don't tell me to sit here, putting all of you at risk,” she said. “I'd far rather face Jeb and have it out once and for all. For Christ's sake, they cut off part of my ear. I've got a few things to say to him, and I don't feel like hiding. I would think that all of you could understand my thinking.”

Vitus's eyes glowed with something that looked a lot like approval. It sent a spike of accomplishment through her that warmed her to the core. It was more than a compliment, because Vitus wasn't a man to give anything his positive opinion unless it was earned.

She wasn't his little Princess.

“We are assigned to you, Ms. Ryland. Let us do our job.” Saxon offered a polished brush-off. She recognized the look on his face; it was the tight expression of a man who would put duty above her personal desires.

She wanted to argue but realized they were experts when it came to getting someone to spill information. Her commitment to Colonel Magnus was burning a hole in her brain.

“Classified” meant not telling anyone. Hell, Vitus was an ex-SEAL. He lived by the code of classified mission, she couldn't be less devoted.

Maybe it was better to withdrawn and wait a little. There was one thing she knew from her childhood, and that was that the Secret Service would do what they deemed necessary. Even if Saxon and Vitus were a special unit, she didn't have a prayer of shoving them off something they considered a duty.

So she'd have to hope they'd receive new orders soon or she was going to have to get creative. Her neck was tense by the time she made it back into the bedroom, because Vitus wasn't the type of man to take her going around him very well.

You know you have to leave him, maybe it would be better if he was pissed at you …

That thought just dug into her deeper. She knew the sting of betrayal, had felt its sting too deeply to ever want to inflict that pain on anyone else, much less the man she loved.

But she couldn't tell him where she was going. It was a choice she'd made for all of the best reasons, and she had always known that it wouldn't come without a high cost.

That cost was going to be Vitus. It always had been, which just made it so much harder to crawl into bed alone. She felt the minutes ticking by, like she was squandering her opportunity to touch him for the sake of her pride.

Well, there was one thing that was for sure. She would be getting her way when it came to protecting Vitus.

*   *   *

“She's not telling us something.”

It was Greer who voiced the obvious. Saxon and Vitus were both brooding as they heard the bedroom door shut.

“The question is what?” Saxon added.

“Nope,” Vitus argued. “What we should be asking is what is drawing her back home. It isn't a deep love for Daddy.”

“Could be the mother, as she claims.”

There was something else. Vitus considered the closed door of the bedroom, distracted from his purpose yet again.

He ended up smiling, enjoying the way Damascus upset his thinking.

“Can we see what Kagan makes of the mother?” Greer asked.

“Not from here,” Saxon replied. “We touch base with our section leader, and someone is going to run right to Carl Davis with that Intel. It's a sure bet that if he's involved, someone is watching Kagan.”

“Carl Davis puts a different spin on things,” Vitus agreed. “Kagan needs to know about that complication. His back is wide open and he won't be able to keep us off-grid for long.”

There were two nods in response.

“We might have to do it Dunn's way,” Greer suggested softly.

Vitus wanted to argue but bit back his rejection. He managed to swallow it knowing that Carl Davis wanting to marry Damascus changed the playing field dramatically. A man in Carl's position had contacts, the types that couldn't be identified easily, which meant Damascus didn't have a chance in hell. The only thing he really could do about it was enjoy the hours they had left together. The problem was, that sounded like a really good idea.

One he didn't have a scrap of self-discipline against.

*   *   *

“Kagan. Meeting you is a true pleasure.” Carl Davis offered his hand along with his greeting.

Kagan took it, shaking it as men shifted around them. Carl was offering him an easy-going grin that Kagan didn't believe for a second. It was practiced to the point of being flawless, like a ballet dancer. So smooth and delicate you might be duped into forgetting just how much strength the dancer had to possess in order to perform.

“I've heard some amazing things about you,” Carl continued as they finished their handshake.

“Thank you.” Kagan played his part. The briefing room was starting to fill up. He knew most of the men. What bothered him were the faces he didn't recognize.

“It's a real comfort to me to know you're on this team.” Carl settled down into a plush leather office chair. “Damascus is very important to me.”

There was a shift among the men in the room, a soft ripple of acknowledgment. In its way, it was like fear, because only a fool would miss the fact that Carl Davis had just made sure every man there knew he expected results.

“My team is doing their best to locate her.” Kagan offered as he sat down and the session was called to order. Someone shifted in the corner. It wasn't unusual, but Kagan turned and caught Tyler Martin slipping into the room.

For a moment, Kagan lost control.

Oh, it was a small lapse, but one that hadn't happened in years. It was almost reassuring in its own way, some proof, small as it was, that he wasn't immune to decency.

“Decency” and “Tyler Martin” didn't exactly belong in the same sentence. Martin stared back at Kagan, shooting him a satisfied little smirk before he directed his attention to the briefing.

Won't help you any …

That was a very satisfying thought. Kagan let it linger in his mind because he didn't really need to listen to the briefing. There wasn't any new Intel on the table. But knowing Tyler was there was balm for the raw wound Tyler had inflicted on him earlier in the year. Tyler was a sellout and not above killing to get what he wanted from life.