Dare You to Run (28 page)

“Good,” she said as she seated herself completely on him. “I want to hear you, want to know you can't control yourself either.”

He snorted at her and fingered her nipples, rolling them while sending her up and back down with a ragged breath.

“As if you had any doubt, Princess.”

She did though. His face was drawn tight and she stared at it as she rode him, absorbed by the tension, by the need on display. It mirrored her own, somehow lending validation to all the swirling emotions he unleashed inside her. Did it make sense? No, but somehow at last she didn't feel alone. He was her companion, her soul mate, her partner in the current of pulsing need that was jerking them both toward the point where they would be tossed over a cliff and free fall into a churning pool of physical satisfaction, leaving them floating in each other's embrace.

*   *   *

“Tyler Martin came to you?” Saxon failed to keep his emotions masked. His tone was thick with rage.

“Shocked me too,” Kagan responded.

“I'd like to shock him too.”

There was a dry chuckle on the other end of the line. “Interesting thing is, he might just be making that easy for us.”

Saxon had abandoned his chair in favor of pacing. He didn't need to ask what Kagan meant. All he had to do was keep his mouth shut and wait to see if his section leader was going to share his thought process. With Kagan that was never a sure thing—but it was a wise one because men who knew too much didn't live long.

“Tyler wants the girl. My guess is, he's going to jump ship on Ryland and give her to Davis as his payment into service.”

“That sounds like something Martin would do,” Saxon agreed. “And Carl Davis has made it clear he considers her his. However, Damascus Ryland divulged an interesting bit of information about the good presidential hopeful.”

“And what might that be?” Kagan's tone was sharp and serious.

“According to Damascus, he's gay.”

There was a long moment of silence. “I was about to tell you to come in, but I just changed my mind.”

“Are you really considering dealing with Martin?” The question was rather insubordinate, but Saxon didn't give a rat's ass.

“You bet I am, but not quite the way he thinks.” Kagan began to explain. “Situations like this, kidnappings, they don't have a good record of ending cleanly. No matter how airtight we try to make the exchange process, people still get shot.”

“Yeah, I've been through a few.”

“Tyler Martin is head of Jeb Ryland's security,” Kagan continued. “He's in a really bad position from the way I see it.”

“Just a slipup by a triggerman would mean he dies while trying to perform his duty.”

“Stay put for another twenty-four hours. I want to check out that bit of information from Ms. Ryland. Because something like that could be very useful in making sure Carl Davis doesn't make a fuss over losing his new guard dog.”

Kagan ended the call, leaving Saxon with mixed feelings. On one hand, Saxon wanted Tyler's blood. It was justice for the men he'd killed as well as a nice, secure feeling against a future where Tyler would be free to kill again when it served his purpose. On the other hand, that wasn't the way Saxon played. He didn't want to lower himself to Tyler's level.

Unfortunately, sometimes in order to catch a rat, you had to crawl through the gutter to get at him.

*   *   *

“Got you.” Pratt enjoyed a surge of success. It was long overdue in his opinion. He watched Damascus Ryland through a window and took aim at the man sitting near her.

The window shattered as the bullet went through. He stayed still only a moment, to make sure he'd hit his target. He really didn't need to see the impact. Damascus whirled around and started screaming.

Pratt eased around the corner and into the building. Damascus was leaning over the downed security man, shaking him.

“Don't fucking move.”

She gasped and stiffened.

“Let me see your hands.”

She pushed back onto her haunches, and a moment later something slammed into the side of his head. Pratt watched the world tilt as unconsciousness claimed him.

*   *   *

Vitus opened his eyes. It took only a split moment for him to realize the door was open and light was shining in from the hallway. Saxon waited for him to identify him before he closed the door. Vitus eased out of bed, tucking the comforter around Damascus before he dressed and slipped into the hallway.

“Greer has someone,” Saxon said. “We need to get up there.”

Vitus frowned. “Why not bring him in?”

“Dunn wants to keep it out on his property.” Saxon answered. “Get dressed, we're flying out. I want to see who Greer bagged.”

Vitus didn't need any further encouragement. When it came to priorities, discovering the means to free Damascus from her father's control was in the number-one slot.

“Damascus?”

“I have a couple of men here to sit on her.” Dunn pulled a cell phone out of his jacket and pressed his thumb against it. A moment later he tapped something into the screen and put it away. There was a soft click of the door opening at the end of the hallway. Four men came down using quiet steps. Vitus considered them before he nodded. He didn't like it but finding the link to Ryland was worth dealing with his own discontent.

*   *   *

Dunn's pilot set down behind the cabin. It was somewhere close to midnight. Vitus felt a chill touch his nape because there was something about the moonlit mountains that just struck him as more haunted than any place he'd ever been. A wind was whipping up, the scent of water in the air as clouds began to cluster in the sky. They made their way down the grassy embankment to the cabin.

Greer was propped in the corner, his line of sight on the door as they came in. Sitting at the kitchen table was a man with a hell of a bruise on the side of his head. It didn't seem to faze him much though. He was glaring at them as they came through the door, his eyes clear and focused. His hands were shackled in two pairs of handcuffs that were linked through a chain looped through a huge concrete block sitting on the floor at the guy's feet.

There was a motion behind Greer's captive. Vitus peered into the dark kitchen. A woman was there, sipping at a whisky glass. A red wig sat on the table as Thais Sinclair offered him a smirk.

“Agent Thais Sinclair,” Greer supplied for Dunn. “Fellow team member.”

*   *   *

Thais took a last sip of her whiskey before she moved out of the kitchen and into the living room. She passed a dummy lying on the floor with a bullet in its chest. Next to that was a large, wicked-looking cricket bat. Vitus made the connection between the bat and the damage to their captive's head.

“You put her in here as bait?” Vitus asked Greer.

“Can't expect to catch much with an empty hook.” It was Thais who answered, her voice soft and sultry. “It was fun.”

“It was a damn stupid risk to take,” Dunn growled as he caught her by the arm. She fluttered her eyelashes at him before she dropped her arm on the other side of his and broke his grip. Dunn grunted.

“I know what I'm doing, Mr. Bateson.”

Dunn didn't care for what she said, but she turned and continued toward the door.

The moment she reached the door and pulled it open, there was a round of gunfire. Vitus hit the deck as Thais fell across the floor, Greer already returning fire as they all pulled their guns. It stopped as quickly as it started, an eerie tension filling the cottage. Someone had killed the lights, leaving them waiting for their night vision to kick in. Vitus was in motion, knowing full well that whoever was trying to kill them wouldn't let them gain that sort of advantage.

Dunn had caught Thais, pulling her away from the door. She surprised him by pulling a gun out of a thigh holster that had been concealed beneath her skirt. Outside, there was a pop, followed by two more. Vitus ducked around the corner to peer out the side door. The pilot had left the helicopter and was using it for cover as he aimed down toward the back of the cottage. There was a flash as he discharged his gun. They were pinned down inside the structure, but they also had what their attackers wanted.

“Get those cuffs off him,” Vitus ordered.

“Right,” Saxon said. “We get to the bird, fly out of here.”

There was the sound of turning metal and then Greer was shoving their captive toward the wall. “Your buddies are going to get you when they take a shot at me.”

“We can't all hide behind him,” Dunn said, stating the obvious.

“So set the place on fire,” Thais offered. “You're running off a propane tank. Blow it. We can make the run while the night is being lit up.”

“This was my grandmother's cabin,” Dunn grumbled.

“If you don't, you just might get to meet her tonight,” Thais advised him. “Unless you'd like to call in the emergency services to save our tails.”

There was a short word of Gaelic before Dunn moved toward the kitchen. “Meet you on the high ground. You've got sixty seconds to clear out.”

“You're going to move when I say to.” Greer had their captive, who was resisting going through the front door. “Want to stay here and fry?”

That got him moving. They were poised in the doorway, mentally counting down.

“Go,” Saxon said.

They headed into the night where it was far too silent. They made it twenty feet before gunfire started up again, the guy's comrades clearly considering it better to hit their own man than to risk losing Saxon. The pilot realized what was up and was back inside the helicopter as they slammed into it and pulled the doors open. When you were in a firefight, every second felt like an hour. Vitus recognized the feeling. It prolonged the struggle, allowing him to notice how he fought for every breath and sat poised on the edge of knowing that his next heartbeat might just be his last. He pushed his body to the limit, straining to get their captive into the bird.

The night suddenly lit up as the cabin exploded. A huge orange ball of fire rolled up from where the kitchen had been. The wall of heat hit them, singeing the skin on the back of their necks. The gunfire stopped and they succeeded in getting into the helicopter. Dunn was making his run, coming up the embankment as the pilot lifted the bird off the ground. Vitus hung out of the door, his arm extended as Saxon anchored him. Dunn leapt for his arm as a flash of gunfire showed them where one of the gunmen was. Greer came up over Vitus, returning fire as Dunn latched onto Vitus's arm.

A bullet parted his hair as he hauled Dunn aboard, and the pilot swung the aircraft into the sky. They were rolled in a mass of human bodies, the scent of sweat thick inside the helicopter. Someone shoved the door closed as the pilot leveled out, and all everyone could do was pant. The rush of adrenaline ended, dropping them all back into reality and letting them feel the pain. Vitus reached up and felt the pulsing grow in his skin. His fingers came away wet but he was content with the knowledge that it was only a flesh wound.

“Fuck.”

Saxon muttered the word. Vitus turned around, looking straight into the open eyes of their captive. His pupils were fixed and dilated.

“That is going to bring some unwanted attention down on us,” Dunn added.

“No kidding,” Saxon agreed.

“Better call in, “Dunn continued. “There is no way I can cover a dead man.”

“Or two,” Thais added. She had her jacket off and was using it to press down on Greer's shoulder. His shirt was splattered with fresh blood and his lips had turned white, but he offered them a cocky grin before he looked back at Thais.

“Always knew I'd get you to take your top off at some point.…” His words started to slur, his eyes slipping closed.

“What do you think of this bra Greer? Are you a lace man?”

His eyes widened, his attention fixing on the generous amount of cleavage her undergarment displayed.

Vitus decided that Thais was all right in his book. She knew how to keep her cool and be a team member when it counted.

And at the moment, every move they made was going to be measured in blood.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

“You let her help.” Damascus was nearly nose to nose with Saxon.

“Thais Sinclair is an agent,” Saxon replied, unimpressed with the way Damascus was trying to intimidate him.

“I am not helpless,” Damascus informed him.

There was a knock on the doorframe. A doctor stood there, still wearing his surgical cap. “McRae family?”

They all turned to face him. For a moment, he looked like he wasn't sure about who exactly was related to his patient, but Dunn appeared in the opposite doorway and that seemed to decide the matter.

“He's out of surgery. It looks like we got to him in time but he's looking at a couple of months of downtime.”

The doctor was tired. He rubbed his eyes before he turned and left. The hospital was quiet, the early morning hours somehow managing to impact the fully lit hallways.

Relief rippled through the room, but it was a short-lived emotional state for everyone. Tension returned with a bite that was razor sharp. Damascus was certain she felt it deeper and sharper than anyone, because the hard fact was that it was all happening because of her.

“This is why I have to go back,” she said.

“It's why you can't,” Vitus argued with a nod from his brother.

Damascus looked toward Dunn. He was contemplating her from behind an unreadable expression. But he hadn't said no, which gave her hope, or at least an avenue of opportunity. One she was going to have to explore.

*   *   *

“We've got to talk to Kagan.” Saxon waited to see what his brother would make of that.

Vitus nodded. “But not here. That would be a sure tip-off if anyone is watching him.”

It was Saxon's turn to nod. “Which means we need to leave Damascus with Dunn.”