Shadow Falling (The Scorpius Syndrome #2) (21 page)

“The Mercs are strong, and the compound is regulated with military precision. Our scouts captured one of the soldiers and, after some persuading, he talked. Apparently the Mercs have a mole in the Vanguard territory.”

Bret sat up. “Excuse me?”

“Yes.” Lake almost smiled. “Greyson Storm, the leader of the Mercs, has acquired the sister of a Vanguard elite soldier. Raze Shadow is his name.”

“Shadow.” Bret rubbed his chin. “He’s a soldier with Vanguard?”

Lake shook his head. “Shadow is posing as a Vanguard soldier, and he’s supposed to trade Dr. Wellington for his sister sometime later this week.”

“Where’s the sister being held?” Bret asked.

“Unknown at this point.”

“Plans?” Bret asked.

Lake cleared his throat. “I’ve sent a force of six men to Mercenary territory to discover the location of the woman. If there’s an easy grab, I told them to take her and come here.”

“She’ll probably help our men. She’s got to be in hell with the Mercs, no question.” Bret flipped the page of his notebook. “Continue your report.”

Maureen
Shadow peered out at the moonlight glimmering on the too-calm Pacific ocean. Sure, waves rolled in, but after the continuous rain of the last month, the peacefulness seemed like a warning. Like a prelude to an explosion.

She sat on her bed in what was once a luxurious villa that probably had rented for twenty thousand dollars a week. Soothing beach colors decorated her plush room, from the expensive duvet cover to the landscapes covering the walls. Her sliding glass door was open, leading out to the spacious deck and down to the beach. The scents of salt and sand blew inside. A palmlike fan took up most of the ceiling, silent and unused.

She was using candles to light the room, although there were generators in case of emergency. Wasn’t the entire world one big emergency zone now?

Not too long ago, she would’ve been taking in a movie with a bunch of friends at such a time. Her friends were dead, and movies were gone. She rubbed her chest above her heart. Losing so many good people had hurt, and the pain had yet to go away. Maybe it never would.

A sharp rap on her door jerked her out of her head. “You still up?” a male voice called.

She eyed the door. Perhaps if she pretended to be asleep, he would leave her the hell alone. She just couldn’t get a take on him, and that meant he was beyond her experience. A bad guy or an evil one.

“I know you’re up. Open the door, or I will.” Greyson Storm didn’t bluff, and it wouldn’t take much for his size fourteen boot to kick open the door.

“It’s unlocked,” she snapped, her entire body going into overdrive. The knife she’d stolen from a soldier the day before lay heavy against her thigh. She’d have to strike fast and go for a vulnerable soft spot when she finally decided to use it. But she had yet to see either a vulnerable or a soft area to Greyson. No way would she win a fight with him, so
she should probably get rid of the Mercenary leader and find somebody else to fight. A guard to the north. Her captors wouldn’t expect her to run to the north.

The door opened. “The cooks said you missed dinner earlier.” He stepped inside, the master of the castle, tall and broad. Dangerous.

She met his gaze, rethinking her plan. If she could incapacitate him, just for a couple of hours, she could possibly get free. Should she jump up and stab him? Or wait until he got closer? She’d never stabbed anybody before. Starting with the most dangerous man she’d ever met didn’t seem like a great idea, but she was rapidly running out of options. “What?” she asked when he continued to look at her.

“I asked if you’d eaten dinner,” he said.

“No. I’m not hungry.”

His eyes, an odd combination of gray and green, focused on her. “Are you ill?”

“No.”

His chin lifted. Once again, he hadn’t bothered to shave, and dark whiskers shadowed his chin. On Greyson, the look was edgy and masculine. “We’re not going through this again, are we?”

She rolled her eyes. Since her captivity, she’d tried everything from escaping to refusing to eat, and he’d thwarted her at every turn. “I’m just not hungry, Grey. Stop being a dick.”

One dark eyebrow rose. “Name-calling is a new one for you.”

So was attempted murder. Or rather
murder
, if she succeeded. “You are a dick, and I’m sick of playing nice.”

He smiled, then, a flash of white against his bronze face. Shockingly handsome in an I’m-about-to-kill-you way, the smile lent a certain charm to the sense of danger surrounding him. “This has been you playing nice? You knocked two of my guys out yesterday.”

“They
should’ve been concentrating on guarding the perimeter,” she said primly. “They’re both fine, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, but they want your blood. Bad.” Amusement competed with the warning in his eyes.

They probably did want to retaliate. She tilted her head to the side and studied him. “Then I suggest you control your men. I doubt my brother will make that trade you want so badly if I’m damaged.” She hoped. There weren’t any other women in the Mercenary camp, and she’d caught more than one of the men staring at her tits. Only Greyson’s firm leash on his men had kept her safe, and she knew it.

“Oh, Raze will take you damaged, and don’t you forget it,” Greyson said silkily, his broad form filling the entire doorway.

She forced a smile. “I think you’re full of shit.” Her second curse word in an hour. It was a new record for her.

He stepped into the room, bringing the scent of ocean and man. “You’re pushing tonight, pretty girl.”

She stood and stepped his way, lifting her chin. For two weeks, she’d been held captive, and not once had he lifted a hand to her. In fact, he made sure she had privacy and food. Yet something about him inspired caution—even fear. In a world full of predators, Greyson Storm stood out as something dangerous.

She drew in air. “Do you think I don’t hear what goes on? What you did with those three teenage refugees yesterday who wanted asylum?” Three girls, all around fourteen years old and prepared to do whatever they had to do for food and shelter. “I heard every word.” She’d been sick about it ever since and needed to understand what had happened to those girls.

He breathed out, his nostrils flaring. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s a dangerous world, and they’re lucky to have survived this long.”

Oh, she was finished being frightened by him. She moved
toward him, the knife in her hand hidden by her thigh. “Where are the girls?” she hissed.

Greyson’s face went blank.

She shivered but held her ground.

“Like I said, you don’t know anything.” He towered over her by at least a foot, his body harder than rock. A vein lined the hard cords of his neck. “I suggest you worry about yourself.”

She’d never been able to do that, and she needed him pissed so he’d go and leave her alone. Then she’d put her plan into motion and attack another guard. She wouldn’t win against him. “I know you’re a monster, Grey. How much of one?” When he’d kidnapped her, he’d done so easily and without causing a bruise. Would he have allowed those young girls to be harmed? It was unthinkable, but she didn’t know him. Not at all.

He leaned down until his nose almost touched hers. “Your only concern is yourself. For the rest of it, mind your own damn business.”

“I very well might kill you.” If she moved an inch, his mouth would be on hers. She immediately shook the thought away. “Because there is no way my brother will bring Vinnie Wellington here to you. He wouldn’t sacrifice an innocent woman. Not even to save me.”

His gaze bored into hers. “I disagree. I barely knew your brother in the military, but his loyalty was well understood. I bet he’d do anything for his baby sister.”

“Why do you want this woman so badly?” Maureen asked for the umpteenth time.

“None of your business.”

Was this a lover’s spat? The idea kicked Maureen in the stomach, and she had no clue why. “If you lost your girlfriend, that’s your own damn problem. Leave me and my family out of it.”

His
gaze dropped to her mouth. “I’ve never met the woman, so there’s no need to sound jealous, pet.”

Fire rushed through her, sparking temper. “Screw you, Greyson.”

“It occurs to me,” he said thoughtfully, “that you’re picking a fight right now. You did the same thing yesterday, I stormed off, and then you attacked two of the guards. What are you planning right now?”

She stepped back and out of his atmosphere. Her lungs seized. “Nothing.”

“Then I suggest you make a move with that knife in your hand. Let’s see where we end up, shall we?” On the last, he lunged.

Vinnie
tossed in the bed, her mind spinning, her body aching. The first resulted from a full day of being bombarded by other people’s feelings, and the second from the energetic tussle of the night before. Raze Shadow knew how to play a woman’s body like he’d invented the entire concept of orgasms.

Moonlight streamed in through the broken blinds, and a slight breeze wafted as well. The rainy season had ended, and soon heat would pound them. For now, the weather refreshed instead of punished. That would change.

Heavy boot steps sounded outside the apartment, and she stilled.

The door opened, and Raze slipped inside. His face remained in shadow, but she knew his form and how he moved. Graceful and quiet, like a jungle cat, and yet with a weariness he failed to hide.

He set two guns and three knives quietly on the counter.

She watched him silently, allowing her breath to even out, as if she slept. The atmosphere changed with him
inside, becoming heavy and electric. He overwhelmed the apartment, projecting his mood.

Yet she couldn’t quite read him.

He yanked his shirt off, revealing hard, smooth muscle. The moonlight captured the ripped ridges and play of strength as he moved, his hands going to his belt as he kicked off his boots.

Her lungs heated, and she had to subdue her breath to keep it even.

His jeans hit the floor, and he stood, clad only in black boxers.

Her mouth watered.

Not seeming to notice her watchfulness, he opened a cupboard and reached high for a bottle of some type of whiskey. A tumbler followed. He poured a generous glass and took both to the sofa, dropping something she couldn’t see on the table. Sitting, he tossed back the entire glass and then poured a second.

His bare feet settled on the table, and he crossed his ankles, lounging with a soft sigh.

The muted light played across his strong profile, leaving the other half of him in darkness, which he seemed to prefer. Just who was this man? She’d known him a little over a week, and she’d touched that stunning body. But who was he, really? Did he even know? What tortured him so?

He looked her way, sipping his whiskey.

She didn’t move.

He took another drink and set his head back on the sofa, closing his eyes. “You know, I’m not one of those guys,” he murmured.

She blinked. How did he know she was awake? “What guys?”

“The ones who’ll warn you off for your own good. Who’ll take the blue balls over hurting you.”

She
bit back a juvenile snort. Blue balls? “You’re not going to protect me from myself?”

“Hell no. You’re smart, you’re strong, and you’re a survivor. You can live with whatever decision you make.” He took another healthy drink of whiskey.

“I get the feeling you’re trying to convince yourself of those facts more than reassure me,” she whispered.

He sighed. “My job is to protect you from any external threat. You have to protect yourself internally.”

“Somehow I don’t think you’re talking about contraception,” she drawled.

“No.”

She might be a little nutty right now, and her instincts might be fried, but even she knew when a guy warned a girl that he’d break her heart, he’d definitely break her heart. “Maybe I’m not as fond of you as you think.”

His feet hit the floor, and he sat up, his eyes opening. “I’m getting fuckin’ tired of the subtext here. It’s like living in
Jane Eyre
.”

“I would’ve gone with
Pride and Prejudice
,” she said.

He ground his palm against his left eye. “Stop being clever.”

“I think it’s a natural state.”

He swore beneath his breath.

Fine. “What do you want from me, Raze? Absolution? Guarantees? Forgiveness?”

He dropped his hand and studied her. “I want to put my face between your legs again and make you scream my name. Twice.”

Heat flushed through her so quickly, she gasped. “That certainly lacked subtext.”

“I want to pound into you so hard we both forget about the world.”

She gulped.

“I want you turned around, beneath me, knees spread
wide, face in the pillow, my hands at your hips, my dick so far inside you I’ll never be free, while I smack your ass until you come.”

More words like that, and she wouldn’t need his help reaching an orgasm. She pressed her thighs together. Why did such obvious danger draw her so? Even before the illness and the drugs, she would’ve been intrigued by Raze Shadow. But this need? This overwhelming, painful, frightening need for him? That was from already having had a taste.