Navy SEAL to Die For (9 page)

Within minutes, sirens sounded nearby.

Before Quentin could tell her differently, Becca left the relative safety of the alley and hurried to the intersection of the two roads Quentin had given her to flag the ambulance.

Quentin held his breath, straining his ears for the sound of gunfire.

“Go after her,” Royce said. “She’ll be in the open. If Ivan’s men are drawn to the sirens, they’ll see her.”

Quentin shook his head. “You can’t hold the pressure on the wound where it’s located and Becca would shoot me if I let you die.”

Royce snorted. “She was one of my best agents until she went rogue on me.”

“Rogue?”

“When her father was killed, she didn’t wait for me to assign another agent to help find the one responsible. She dropped off the grid and went out on her own.”

“Yeah, we found her in Cancun.” Quentin’s gaze never left the alley entrance, his pulse quickening with each passing second as he waited for Becca to reappear. “We thought she might be the one after Sawyer until she helped save our butts in a firefight.”

“I’m glad she had you and your team there to help her out.”

“Hell, she helped
us
.”

“She’s a very determined young lady. It tore her apart when she learned of her father’s death.”

“I’ll bet it did.”

“Her mother died in a plane crash as the plane landed. Becca was there, waiting for her mother to get off that flight. She witnessed all of it. She was only six. Her father was the only family she had left. They were very close.”

Quentin’s chest tightened. No wonder she’d freaked out when their plane crashed into the alligator swamp.

Royce’s gaze followed Quentin’s. “Don’t let her stubborn determination get her into too much trouble.”

“I don’t know that I have much say in the matter. But I plan on sticking close to her as long as I can.”

“Good. As soon as the medics take me, go after Ivan. He might lead us to his contact. I can’t imagine he’s the one funding the mercenary killings.”

“Will do.” Quentin stiffened as a shadowy figure appeared, hurrying their way. It only took him a second to recognize Becca by the way she walked. She struck out like she had somewhere to go, and she wasn’t wasting time getting there. Yeah, he’d have a hell of a time keeping up with her. But he didn’t have much choice. He couldn’t let her go it alone. He was beginning to care.

Chapter Nine

Becca stood in the shadow of the building waiting for the fire truck to stop at the street corner. When a paramedic dropped down from the passenger seat, she stepped out. Then she only stepped out long enough to say, “Over here. You’ll need a stretcher.” She waved and stepped back into the shadow of the building. The medics removed the equipment from the truck, asking questions as they pulled out a stretcher and what looked like a toolbox. She answered succinctly, anxious to get them to Royce.

So far, she didn’t see Ivan or his men, but that didn’t mean they weren’t lurking somewhere, waiting for their opportunity to strike. With the police five blocks away, handling the aftermath of the firefight, maybe Ivan had cut his losses and gotten the hell away from the Bronx. Whatever was the case, Becca couldn’t hold off getting medical attention for Royce.

A police car rolled up beside the fire truck and an ambulance pulled in, as well. Becca felt more confident that Ivan wouldn’t try anything now. When the firefighters and EMTs were ready, she led the way to the alley.

The emergency personnel took over. Quentin and Becca stood back, out of the way, and somewhat in the shadows.

When the paramedics had stabilized and prepared to move Royce, he raised a hand. “Wait.”

The EMTs paused.

“Becca. Quentin.” Royce waved them over. “I just remembered. Take my wallet. I don’t want it to get lost.” He winked and handed Becca the wallet he’d pulled off Ivan. “And don’t forget to visit me after you take care of business.”

“We’ll be back,” Becca promised. “I’ll let your family know what happened.” She’d call Geek with the name of the hospital. Hopefully, one of the SOS agents was in NYC and could be called upon to provide Royce with protection while he was there.

Royce was loaded into the ambulance and taken to the nearest hospital.

“We’d better go.” Quentin glanced up from staring at the tracking device. “Ivan’s on the move.”

Although tired to the bone, Becca refused to let the opportunity pass because she was physically taxed. If Quentin could do it, so could she. “Let’s go.”

They chose a location on the street map and called for a taxi to pick them up in five minutes. That gave them just enough time to get to the location. And hopefully enough time to catch up to Ivan. Maybe he’d be moving on his own, not with his army of thugs.

Moving through some of the sketchier neighborhoods of the Bronx, Becca didn’t have time to think about what they would do if they caught up to Ivan. She was more worried about getting out of the Bronx before they were mugged, shot or sold into sexual slavery.

When they emerged onto a busy main thoroughfare, she let go a sigh of relief. A taxi pulled up to the designated location and they fell into the backseat.

Quentin pulled out the tracker. “Damn. He’s moving fast, but it’s not making sense.”

“What do you mean?” Becca leaned against Quentin. He had blood on his jacket and beneath the jacket he wasn’t wearing a shirt, but the hardness of his muscles spoke of his strength and ability to endure a lot of physical hardship. Becca melted into him, partly because her own strength was flagging, and partly because she wanted to see what he was seeing on the device.

Like Quentin had said, the little green dot on the screen was moving, but not tracking against the street map overlay.

“He’s on the subway,” Becca said.

“That makes sense.”

“Where to, mister?” the cabbie asked.

“South,” Quentin and Becca said as one.

The cabbie shook his head and made a U-turn in the middle of the street to a lot of honking and a few curses from drivers and pedestrians. Once he was heading south, the cabbie glanced into the rearview mirror. “I need an address.”

“We don’t have one yet. Just head south until we tell you otherwise.”

“Look, I don’t know what you’re pullin’ but I ain’t got time to play games with you. Either give me an address or get out.” He pulled to the curb and shoved the shift into park.

Becca pulled a hundred-dollar bill out of the stash Royce had given her and leaned over the cabbie’s shoulder. “Take this for now and I’ll give you another when we get out. Will that make up for the inconvenience of no address?”

The man stared at the bill, a frown denting his brow. “This ain’t one of those counterfeit bills, is it?”

Becca locked gazes with the man in the mirror. “It’s the real deal. Now, are we going south, or do we need to find another cabbie who wants to make a couple hundred dollars’ tip?” She cocked her brows and waited for the cabbie’s response.

“South it is.” The man shifted into drive and pulled away from the curb, nearly hitting the car already in that lane.

Horns blared and curses flew through the night.

But they were on their way south on the streets while the green blip that was Ivan was headed south on the subway. The green dot only appeared at stops when a signal could get through. The taxi stopped at lights, but they slowly caught up with the subway.

“You two getting out at the train station?” the cabbie asked, turning onto the street at Penn Station.

“No,” Becca said.

“Yes,” Quentin contradicted. “Look, the green dot is moving, but not far from where he started. My bet is he got off the subway. If we hurry we can catch up with him.”

Becca clenched the promised hundred-dollar bill in her fist. “Are you sure?”

“No, but what if he gets on a train? The taxi driver isn’t going to follow a train out of here.”

“If we pay him enough...?”

“We can’t risk losing him.”

“Fine.” She leaned over the seat and handed the man the second hundred-dollar bill. “Thanks for bringing us this far.”

“No. Thank
you
. I can wait around for ten minutes if you think you might need me again.”

“We appreciate the offer, but that won’t be necessary.” Quentin climbed out, rounded the vehicle to the passenger side and held the door open for Becca, glancing down at the tracking device several times. He held out his hand. “We’d better hurry.”

Becca took the proffered hand and they ran for the entrance. Once inside, Becca craned her neck as she hurried alongside Quentin, following the green light.

“We should be getting close.”

They ran into a gate. With no ticket they couldn’t get past the barricades.

Becca stared at the display and then at a map on the wall. “Quentin, honey, this train is going to DC and it leaves in exactly three minutes.”

She grabbed his hand, ran for the ticket kiosk and frantically fed bills into the machine, crumbling them so badly the machine only spit them out. “Damn it. This would be so much easier if I could just use a credit card.”

“Let me.” Quentin took the bills from her, straightened the wrinkles and patiently fed them one at a time into the machine.

Becca paced beside him, staring at the clock on the wall. “We only have two minutes to get tickets, get through the line and on that train,” she said through her teeth. “But no pressure.” She gritted her teeth, paced a few steps and returned. Holy hell, what was taking the machine so blasted long?

Finally, Quentin straightened and held up two tickets to DC. “Your train awaits, milady.”

Becca grabbed his elbow and ran, dragging him along with her. A line had formed at the gate, slowing their entrance onto the platform.

They made it to the train in time to leap aboard two seconds before the doors closed.

Becca checked the car they were in and didn’t see Ivan or any of his entourage. “Where is he?”

Quentin checked the tracker as the train lurched forward, moving slowly through the train station. Ivan’s green light was moving, too. With them. “He’s on this train.”

Despite how tired she was, Becca jumped to her feet. “Let’s go find him.”

Quentin laid a hand on her arm. “Sit.”

“But—”

“Sit.”

“What about Ivan?” she asked, still standing.

“He’s on this train. We can’t interrogate him without drawing a crowd and possibly getting kicked off the train.”

“We can’t just sit back and do nothing.” Becca paced a few steps down the aisle and back. “Ivan’s the contact. He knows who paid to have my father killed.”

Quentin nodded. “True, but he’s headed to DC. We have to consider what that might mean.”

Becca’s eyes narrowed. “He’s going to meet the man who hired him. We got too close. Ivan might be running scared.” She glanced across at Quentin. He was right. “Then we can’t let him know we’re following him. But we’ll need to stay on him. The bug Royce planted on him is probably somewhere in his clothing. If he changes, we stand to lose him.”

“All the more reason to stick close to him.”

Becca stared at the backs of the seats on the car they’d boarded. “Shouldn’t we find him?”

“No, babe. He’d recognize us and we’d have a gunfight on board a train full of people. It’s too dangerous.”

Becca chewed on her bottom lip. “You’re right.” She settled in the seat beside him and stared down the aisle. “What if he changes clothing on the train?”

“Why would he?” Quentin asked. “He doesn’t know we’re on the train and he doesn’t know he’s been tagged. And considering he took the subway to get to Penn Station, I would venture to guess he didn’t stop by his apartment and pack a suitcase or change of clothing for the trip.”

Becca sat back against the seat. “I suppose you’re right. Considering this is the only lead we have, I hate the thought of Ivan getting away.” The door at the end of the train car opened and a man stepped through. Becca’s pulse leaped. She reached out and gripped Quentin’s leg. “Speak of the devil. He’s headed this way. We need to hide. Right now.” She shrank against Quentin’s side, trying to get out of sight of the man heading directly toward them.

“Kiss me,” Quentin urged.

“What?” She shot a glance at him. She’d wanted to kiss him all day long and wondered if he’d ever try to kiss her again. “Now?”

“Yes, now. Hurry.” He swept the cap off her head, ruffled her hair, finger-combing it to let it fall around her shoulders in long, wavy curls. Then he gripped her arms and pulled her against him, pressing his lips to hers. Using her hair as a curtain to hide both of their faces, Quentin prolonged the kiss until Ivan passed them and walked through to the next car.

When the threat was gone, Quentin still did not let go of Becca. Instead, he pulled her across his lap and deepened the kiss.

Becca wrapped her arms around his neck. If Ivan came back that way, she never knew. All she knew was that if she died that moment, she’d die a happy woman. Quentin’s kiss was that good.

The train lurched, throwing them out of the hold they had on each other. Becca lifted her head and stared around the interior of the train car. For the length of that soul-defining kiss, she’d forgotten about Ivan and the threat of starting a gunfight on a train full of people. Heat surged through her and settled low in her belly, a profound ache radiating inside her chest. She wanted to kiss Quentin and keep kissing him. More than that, she wanted to make love to him, and wake up beside him every day.

But she realized how impossible that would be. They were two very different people who worked in highly dangerous jobs, based out of different parts of the country. Nothing about a relationship with Quentin would work. She had to remind herself that he was a ladies’ man—a navy guy with a female conquest in every port. Somehow the mantra didn’t hold as much water, nor did it change her heart from feeling the way it did.

Becca’s throat constricted. She swallowed hard to clear it and pushed free of Quentin’s embrace, turning toward the aisle. Through a wash of moisture filling her eyes, she could see it was empty. “We’re clear.”

The kiss was nothing more than a charade to fool their prey. She had to remember that and stop mooning over a man who wouldn’t be in her life after this operation was completed.

No matter how much she reminded herself, the tightness in her chest refused to release.

* * *

Q
UENTIN
SAT
SILENTLY
MONITORING
the GPS tracking device, while his thoughts whirled around the woman sitting beside him. He longed to take her hand and tell her everything would be okay. They’d find her father’s killer and make sure justice was served. But what then?

He’d go his way. She’d go hers.

Would he ever see Becca again?

He tried to recall the face of any one of the women who’d been in his life. None surfaced. None came to mind except Becca—the SOS agent with incredible combat skills and a warrior’s heart. She was passionate about what she did, about the people she loved and equally passionate in bed. And that kiss...

What had started as concealment against discovery by Ivan had morphed into something much more. By the time Becca broke it off, Quentin felt as if a part of him leaned away with her.

What was happening to him? He’d never wanted a woman as badly as he wanted Becca. And not just for the sex, which was amazing, but for her—the intelligent, courageous woman she was, intent on finding the person responsible for her father’s death.

Quentin could sense in her the deep anguish of losing the only family she had left, and his heart ached for her.

The train slid into a stop along the way to DC.

Becca turned to stare down at the tracker. “If he gets off, we have to get off.”

“Right.” Quentin focused on the small screen, his pulse kicking up a notch. They had to be ready to hop off the train if Ivan disembarked at the last minute.

People got on and some got off the train. The doors closed and they left the station, continuing on course to DC.

Quentin let go of the breath he’d been holding and relaxed against the seat.

Beside him Becca’s stiff body slumped. “We need to get some rest. The trip takes about five hours. I can take the first shift.” She held out her hand for the tracker.

Quentin, used to catching power naps whenever he could, handed over the device. “Wake me in two hours.” He closed his eyes and forced all thoughts of Ivan on the train with them, Jabouri lying dead in his apartment, Royce laid up in the hospital and most of all Becca’s warm body in the seat beside him to the back of his mind. His body needed rest. He fell to sleep.