Shatter (9 page)

The streets of downtown Olympia were empty at nearly four a.m., the limping vehicle easy to locate. Mitch closed in on the SUV quickly, but when he was still half a mile behind, the Chevy jerked to a stop.

He gunned the BMW even while Abernathy climbed out of the vehicle, pulled Halina over his shoulder, and ran into a parking lot bordering the harbor.

“No, no,
no
.”

The BMW’s wheels squealed into the turn and bumped over a curb on the way into the lot. Mitch scanned for Halina’s white robe, the one thing giving him any hope of finding her.

He spotted Abernathy sprinting through a place called Port Park, Halina’s limp form jerking on his shoulder. Mitch sped up, plowed over a grass separator in the lot, and nearly clipped the bastard. But he evaded with moves from an obstacle course and disappeared behind a building.

“That fucking Army Ranger’s going
down,
” he growled through clenched teeth.

He jumped from the car, gun in hand, and stopped. Breath held, he listened for footsteps. The
plunk-plunk-plunk
of running feet on wood turned Mitch toward the dock.

Fear burned a streak down the middle of his body. If Abernathy got her on a boat, Mitch would lose her. And he
couldn’t
lose her.

He sprinted toward the building, adrenaline making his head light. But he had the advantage. Abernathy was injured. Carrying a hundred and something pounds of deadweight. Mitch pushed himself, his strides eating up the planks.

He caught up with them just as Abernathy leaned toward a small aluminum fishing boat. Mitch couldn’t shoot the guy without risking Halina, so he did the next best thing—he nailed the metal dinghy with half a dozen shots.

“You’re not going anywhere, Abernathy,” Mitch rasped between heavy breaths. “Put her down—
on the dock
—and I won’t shoot you.”

“You won’t shoot me while I’m holding her. And you’re not the only one with a gun.” He moved into a pool of light from an overhead fixture to show Mitch the semiauto against Halina’s head. “Back off.”

“You won’t shoot her,” he said, praying the shake in his body didn’t transfer to his voice. The sight of that gun at Halina’s head flipped something rabid inside him. “She’s the key to everything you want.”

“I only want her research. I could get that without her; this is just the fastest way. But it’s also becoming the most trouble.”

“You don’t have any other choice,” Mitch said, slowly advancing as he spoke. “She destroyed it. She’s the only person who can re-create the information. If you kill her, you kill any chance of getting that research. You start over at square one.”

Halina moaned. Her arm made a languid arc toward Abernathy’s head, but it didn’t get anywhere near him before it fell away.

“If you believe she destroyed her research,” Abernathy said, “you’re a bigger sucker than I thought. Now,
move
.”

“Not going to happen. You’re going to have to let her go and take a run at her another time.”

Halina was waking up, or trying to. She wasn’t a threat to the man holding her, but if she could just move out of the way enough . . . Mitch was a damn good shot, but the first two that had missed the SUV’s tire kept him from pulling the trigger now.

Abernathy backed along the dock.

Mitch’s heart accelerated. He squinted into the dark behind the guy. There was no freaking place for him to go. Information kept rolling through his head—Army Ranger, Military Intelligence, missions with Quaid . . .

A vision of Abernathy falling into the water, holding Halina like a rescue swimmer to block his body while dragging her to another shore flashed in Mitch’s mind as just about the guy’s only alternative play. And Mitch would be screwed. He couldn’t shoot, couldn’t go after them in a boat he didn’t have. And going into the water after someone with Abernathy’s training was a suicide mission.

“Stop or I’ll shoot you,” Mitch warned.

The bastard grinned at Mitch past Halina’s legs. Then slid his hand up her thigh and beneath her robe. A spurt of fury raised Mitch’s blood pressure.

“I’m going to empty my clip into you, bastard. And I’ll enjoy every bullet. Halina,” Mitch yelled. “Halina,
wake up
.”

“She’s out, man. I gave her enough shit to keep her out for days.”

But Halina flopped sideways, attempting to struggle.

“Halina, Dex needs you,” Mitch called, closing fast and taking aim as far away from her body as possible. “Dex is hurt. He needs you.”

A sound gurgled up from her throat and she thrashed in Abernathy’s arms. He held on to her, but she threw him off balance just enough.

Mitch’s stomach clenched. He squeezed the trigger.

Abernathy grunted. Blood immediately drenched a splotch on his jeans. He glanced down, muttered, “Sonofabitch,” and stumbled.

Mitch sprinted for Halina. Grabbed a handful of her robe and jerked. She pulled from Abernathy’s grasp and crumpled to the dock at the same time the other man tipped backward. He hit the water flat on his back, a glassy look in his blue eyes, the weapon still in his hand.

Mitch dropped to one knee beside Halina. He kept his gun aimed at the water while searching her body for injury with the other hand, praying his bullet hadn’t grazed her. His heart was beating so hard it pushed the air from his lungs. But he found no liquid warmth, no stickiness, just lots of smooth, warm skin.
Thank God.
It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever felt.

“Hali.” He gripped her face, darted a sweep over the dark water’s surface. Abernathy should have surfaced screaming by now. But he’d vanished. “Hali, wake up. Wake up for Dex. He needs you.”

She didn’t stir.

Mitch lifted her into his arms—definitely lighter than Dex—and cast one more suspicious glance across the water’s surface before backing off the dock and rushing to the car, just yards away and still running. He dropped Halina in the passenger’s seat and scanned the area again, sure they hadn’t seen the last of Abernathy.

The drive out of town took longer than necessary as he executed a series of turns, switchbacks, and circles just in case Abernathy had called in help. But Mitch couldn’t detect any tails. When the sirens started multiplying near the hotel, he hit the interstate.

He drove with one hand on Halina’s wrist, her pulse beneath his fingers, calculating the rate by the dashboard clock. Sixty beats per minute—normal for someone in her physical condition. Her head was tilted toward him and he could feel her breath on his bicep, which also seemed normal. Still, it took a full five minutes before he could catch his own breath.

“That was too damn close,” he whispered, his voice shaky.

He took an exit in Tumwater and parked in the dark space between two overhead lights in the lot of a Jack in the Box. Tugging out his phone, he dialed Alyssa.

“What’s wrong?” she answered, voice worried but serious, capable, ready to handle anything.

“We were ambushed again.” Shit, he still couldn’t breathe right. “He got Halina and injected her with something. Some kind of sedative. He injected her dog too. He’s a German shepherd, weighs as much as Halina and means everything to her. I have them both, but, shit, Lys . . .” He raked a hand through his hair, panic slicing along his nerves like a razor. “What do I
do
?”

“Are you close to an emergency room?”

“We can’t go near a hospital.” He didn’t know how many were involved yet. Didn’t know if Abernathy had called anyone else in. Didn’t even know where Abernathy was for sure. “We’d be dead in the parking lot.”

“Okay,” she said, immediately detecting his frantic state and compensating with calm. “Her heart rate—”

“Sixty.”

“Good. And she’s breathing—”

“Easy, steady.”

“Good. Okay. You can relax, Mitch. Do you know how long it took for the sedative to act?”

“Uh,” he reached over and pushed hair off her forehead, resting the backs of his fingers there to feel her temperature. He didn’t know why, he just did. “Fast. She fought for maybe thirty seconds before slowing down. Maybe another thirty before she was completely out.”

“There are very few sedatives that work that fast. The good news is that I’m pretty sure what he used is relatively safe. If she hasn’t had a reaction by now, she probably won’t. It just needs to wear off, which should happen quickly. How quickly depends on how much she was given, but she’ll be coming around in anywhere between ten and thirty minutes. If she’s not, there’s a problem and you’ll have to reevaluate an emergency room.”

“Are you sure? That’s she’s okay, I mean?”

“Based on what you’re telling me, she sounds stable. Tell me about the dog.”

“Oh shit.” Another burst of panic burned through him. He got out of the car and opened the back door. “I don’t know how to check his pulse, he’s got so much damn fur . . .”

“His femoral artery, inside thigh.”

Mitch felt along the dog’s leg and found the pulse. “Damn, it’s too fast. Way fast.”

“A dog’s pulse should be twice ours, so that’s good. And his breathing?”

Mitch put his hand in front of the dog’s nose. “Also fast.”

“That’s the way it should be. Enjoy the silence. When they wake up, they’ll probably both feel like they’ve got hangovers. You might want to pick up some Excedrin for Halina. I know you can’t get to a vet, so you can get some baby aspirin for the dog.
But
check with Halina before you give it to him, only give it to him if he’s in
obvious
pain and only
one
baby aspirin. Got it?”

Mitch leaned on the roof and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Yeah.”

“Mitch, are you all right? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you so shaken. Not even when Dad had his heart attack.”

No. He wasn’t even close to all right. He’d almost lost Halina.
Really
lost her. And after what he’d discovered, he shouldn’t give a damn, which made the whole range of emotions even more psychotic.

“Just freaking dandy,” he told Alyssa.

“You don’t sound dandy. Get your troublemaking butt down here with the rest of us. Your nephew wants to meet you.”

Mitch disconnected with Alyssa and spent a long moment gazing at Halina. Damn, he was so twisted with fury and betrayal and desire and hope, he didn’t know which way his head was spinning.

“I don’t know what to do with you,
beda
.”

Trouble—she was definitely trouble. Always had been in one way or another. Trouble for his body. Trouble for his mind. Trouble for his heart.

Big motherfucking trouble in any language, English or Russian.

He turned his attention to his phone and found yet another hotel nearby. He didn’t like the idea of stopping again, but he liked the idea of driving, unable to monitor Halina and Dex, even less. There was no doubt he’d hit Abernathy in the leg. Army Ranger or not, the bastard had to get that wound examined. And he wouldn’t go to an emergency room—unless he had a way to get around the hospital reporting a gunshot wound. Like ties with law enforcement or leverage even higher.

Of course, with military intelligence in his background and Schaeffer’s contacts at his fingertips, he had both and would be able to maneuver three hundred and sixty degrees.

Unless he was working alone during this blackout window when he didn’t have to account to Schaeffer. That would explain why Abernathy had come after them again instead of sending someone else. And why Abernathy hadn’t had backup when he’d tried to take Halina.

Mitch’s mind ping-ponged back and forth. He wanted to call someone and talk about it. Hash it out until the adrenaline ebbed and he could close his eyes. But everyone was sleeping—or should be. Instead of pissing more people off, he sent a text to Young, giving him Abernathy’s identity and asking for deeper information.

At the hotel, Mitch parked directly in front of the lobby and locked Halina and Dex in the car when he went in to get a room. This time he requested one around back so he could get the car out of sight. And—just because he’d grown paranoid over the last year—he pulled a dime from his pocket and switched the BMW’s license plates with those of another car around the side of the hotel before carrying both Halina and Dex into the room.

He laid Halina on the bed and stood there a moment, staring at her beautiful face. He brushed hair off her cheek and forehead and her skin felt like silk beneath his fingers.

“Beda, beda, beda,”
he murmured, sliding his fingers across one high cheekbone.

She rolled to her side on the bed with a moan, and though the robe was big enough to wrap around Halina twice, the fabric gapped at her chest, exposing the supple curve of one full breast. She shifted her legs and the split in the robe parted to reveal the smooth, toned length of her inner thigh.

And Mitch realized not letting her grab clothes from her suitcase at the other hotel was the most asinine thing he’d ever done.

 

M
itch stepped out of the bathroom followed by a trail of steam. The hot water had washed away the sweat, eased stress and aching muscles, but it hadn’t relieved the tightness in his chest or cleared the memories running through his mind.

Halina and Dex were still asleep, but by the way Halina tossed, that wouldn’t last much longer. Wearing his boxer briefs, Mitch picked up his jeans and frowned at them, wishing he had clean clothes. He held them up and smacked at the stains on the knees from kneeling on the pavement to pick up Dex.

Halina moaned and turned one way, then the other. She fisted her hands, turned her head. Sounds of distress ebbed from her throat. Mitch wanted to lie down beside her, gather her into his arms, and soothe her, but knew he couldn’t. And just considering it made him want to take a sledgehammer to his head.

What was it going to take to get over her? She was beautiful, but he’d been with more stunning women. She was intelligent and clever, but he’d been with geniuses and Pulitzer prize winners. And although she wasn’t showing it now, she could be painfully sweet, but Mitch had been with women who were sweeter than pure honey.

What he hadn’t found was the perfect combination . . . at least not with anyone other than the woman lying in that bed. She was funny and fun-loving, adventurous, tough, compassionate. Or at least she could be. She could have been everything. But she’d chosen lies and secrets over him.

“No . . .” she murmured, her voice tight with fear. “No, no,
no
.”

Mitch’s gut twisted and he sighed. “I’m such a sucker, I deserved to get screwed.”

He threw his jeans over a chair, sat on the edge of the bed, and put a hand on her arm. “Everything’s fine, Halina.” When she only continued to thrash, he took her other arm and added pressure to hold her still. “You’re safe. Everything’s fine.”

She quieted, but her breathing continued in hard, quick bursts. The pulse in her throat throbbed beneath her skin and all Mitch could think about was putting his mouth there.

Halina’s lashes fluttered and she winced. “Mits . . .” She slurred his name and sweet warmth curled in his gut. “Mitch . . .”

“I’m right here.” As soon as he spoke, she sat up and reached for him. Her arms slid around his sides, wrapped his back, and pulled him close. He breathed out, closed his eyes, and braced her by the shoulders, touching as little of her body as possible. “Halina, I’m right here, everything’s fine.”

She rested her cheek against his chest and Mitch stared at the ceiling, forcing away the soft sensation trying to sneak in. Then she suddenly pushed back, clutching his arms, panic filling her beautiful blue eyes. “Dex, where’s Dex?”

“Right next to you. He’s sleeping. He’s going to be fine too.”

She turned her head in search of the dog and swayed. Mitch tightened his grip on her shoulders.

“Are you sure he’s okay?” she asked.

“Yes. I made sure.”

“Positive?”

“He’s just sleeping, Hali. He’ll come out of it soon.”

Her muscles relaxed. She slid her hands up Mitch’s arms and pressed her head against his chest again. A fine tremor shivered through her body. Mitch kept his hands on her shoulders, fighting the urge to wrap her in his arms.

“God, I’ve never been so scared,” she whispered. “Not since—”

Mitch waited, anticipating the unveiling of another secret, but she didn’t go on. “Not since when?”

“I just remember Dex’s weight falling against my leg. Looking down and seeing him collapsed on the ground. Then looking up and seeing you . . . I heard you yell to me, but I was so distracted by Dex. I was slow. I didn’t get his hand before he . . .”

She held him tighter.

Her account brought on the same memories, which flooded into Mitch. Into his chest. He gave in to the need to feel her in his arms, and encircled her, holding her tight. He’d already almost lost her—permanently—three times, and after all he’d been through with the team, he’d learned to value every moment in life.

The sight of Abernathy tossing Halina over his shoulder like a doll, that sensation of coming up short when he’d raced for the car even when he’d pushed his body past its limits, had been as terrifying as being trapped in a dream.

“Shh.” He stroked her hair. “It’s over. You’re both okay.”

She nodded and turned her face into his neck. She breathed long and deep, the action instantly bringing back memories that flooded his groin with blood. She’d always loved to breathe him in, especially before and after sex. Before, it excited her; after, it soothed her.

And he so didn’t need to be thinking about that with her naked beneath the robe, her hands stroking his back, her face warm against his throat. In fact, he didn’t need to be holding her like this.

He put his hands on her upper arms, but before he pushed back, Halina kissed his throat. Her nails scored lightly across his back. Desire skittered over his skin in gooseflesh. Then her mouth started moving. Became more insistent and erotic with the stroke of her tongue, up his neck, across his jaw. Her hot breath caressed his skin. One of her hands lifted to his hair, and, God help him, the only thing that filled his mind was taking her horizontal.

“Hali,” he said, his voice husky, eyes closed as he soaked in the sensations he hadn’t felt for so long, but that came back with searing clarity, along with the passion that had always accompanied them. “Jesus Christ, Hali, sto—”

She pressed a hand to his cheek and turned his face toward hers. Then her lips were on his. Soft and warm and full and . . . oh-hell-I’m-fucked delicious.

A sound came from his throat as her mouth slid against his and her eyes closed. Why did he even
try
to resist her? Why had he ever
thought
he wouldn’t want her now?

Lord, yes, he remembered the feel of these lips. And he had one of those surreal this-can’t-be-happening moments. Kissing Halina. Never in his most twisted fantasies had he ever believed he would ever feel her mouth again.

Which reminded him he
shouldn’t
be feeling her mouth again.

He pulled back just enough to whisper, “Ah, fuck,” against her lips before her hand tightened on his face and her mouth opened. Mitch didn’t respond, but didn’t pull away. Just groaned in tortured indecision.

Her tongue pushed between his lips, the feel of her penetrating his mouth to seek out pleasure so unspeakably erotic. He gripped her face and opened. Let her stroke his mouth. Oh, she tasted so good. Rich. Sweet. Hot. So hot. And he was so hungry.

Halina’s tongue made a hard, savage roll against his, demanding the same in return. And that’s when he finally lost it.

The instant he responded Halina was there, giving back as she always had, with double the passion and three times the heat. She pushed up on her knees and wrapped both arms around his shoulders. Her chest pressed against his as she grabbed his hair. The way she moved against him, the way she kissed him, the way she felt in his arms, it was all delectably familiar, tantalizingly unique. She was everything exciting, magical, sensual, and comforting all wrapped into one gorgeous human being.

One gorgeous human being who’d damaged him so deeply, he still hadn’t recovered.

Halina sighed into his mouth, the sound so filled with desire and pleasure it pushed his panic button. He pulled away abruptly, fighting for focus.

“Halina, you’re . . . you’re not thinking straight.”

He moved his hands to her arms and pushed her away. Instead of fighting him, she sat back and pulled the tie on her robe. The outside panel fell loose and the panic alarm inside Mitch’s head screeched louder.

“You’ve had a really rough night,” he said. “A horrible night.”

She reached inside and tugged at the inner tie until the robe fell loose.

Mitch willed himself to keep his eyes on her face. “You almost died and your emotions are all—”

“Shh.” She put her fingers to his lips, the touch gentle, but her eyes remained fiery.

When she leaned in and kissed him again, her mouth was insistent. This time, when she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body close, skin met skin. The sensation wiped Mitch’s mind completely clean. He couldn’t form any thought but the way her nipples puckered against his chest or the way gooseflesh rose on her skin wherever he touched. And he thrived on affecting her, while knowing he shouldn’t be close enough to affect her at all.

She pushed him back on the bed and sank onto him until their bellies pressed, her thighs spread across his hips, her sex separated from his only by a thin layer of cotton.

Nothing had ever felt so perfect.

His hands found their way under her robe and caressed the length of her body, shoulders to hips and back. She was slim, strong, soft. He wanted to feel her body moving, rocking and shuddering against his. Wanted to be inside her, claiming her.
Owning
her.

“So good,” she whispered against his mouth, then kissed his jaw, his throat, his chest.

Desire burned hotter. It took on a razor-sharp edge. He couldn’t think. With every other woman, Mitch had enough presence of mind during sex to recite the Declaration of Independence. Halina made it impossible for Mitch to even contemplate one immediate problem.

Her hands slid down his sides, tucked into the waistband of his briefs—

“Wait, Hali.” He grabbed her wrists. His rib cage rocked with each beat of his heart. He was breathing hard, his eyes glazed, his cock engorged and shooting lust through his body. “What . . . why . . . ?”

He was so gone, he couldn’t even form a question. Stellar defense attorney material right here. He raised his eyes to the ceiling. Swallowed. He couldn’t do this. She wasn’t a woman who would play by his rules. Hell, he couldn’t even stick to his own damn rules with her.

He pulled her hands to his chest and sat up, carrying her with him. She straddled his lap, white robe parted to show creamy curves he wanted to sink into. Deep into.

He dragged in a breath through a throat so tight with regret, the air rasped. “We can’t.”

He started to push her off his lap, but she pulled her hands from his grasp, linking them around his neck again. The movement rocked her soft sex against his erection. He groaned, closed his eyes, and dropped his head back, gripping her arms hard. Damn, he wanted her so bad.
So
bad. Worse than any woman in so damn long.

“I know what I’m doing,” she whispered. “I’m making a conscious choice.” She framed his face with her hands. Mitch cracked his lids. She stared directly into his eyes and the heat there matched the hot pump of blood through his veins. “And
I want you
.”

Jesus, she’d always been impossible to resist. And seven years later, he was still completely helpless against her will. The thought turned something inside him, giving him the strength to grip her arms and push her away.

Abruptly, before he did something he’d regret—or at least more than he’d already done, more than he already regretted—he stood and stepped away from her. “I can’t.”

Hurt flashed across her face, and the sight tore at Mitch. She sank back on her heels, hands clenched, that damn robe still open. . .

“You
can’t
?” Anger flushed her cheeks, but hurt darkened her eyes. “You can fuck a different woman
every week
in San Francisco, but you can’t make love to me
once
?”

Shock hit him first but slid directly into anger. Every word held judgment and censure—neither of which he deserved. The anger he’d put on the back burner reheated.

“No, I
can’t
.” He fought to hold back the confessions fighting to tumble forward—
because you meant everything to me, they meant nothing; because I loved you, not them.
And managed a lesser, “Because
you’re
not
them
.”

She pulled in an audible breath and jerked back as if he’d slapped her. Mitch instantly heard his words in a completely different way, but it was too late to take them back. Too complicated to explain. Her eyes burned with a combination of fury and pain.

“Of course not.” She stood from the bed, petulant, and faced him, the robe falling open carelessly at her sides. “I should have realized I’d never be enough for you anymore.”

His frown deepened and confusion pushed questions to his lips. Halina had always been more than he’d ever hoped to find in one woman. There was nothing
enough
about Halina, only heavenly
excess
. But this belief was for the best. If she hated him, she wouldn’t tempt him into a situation where he’d end up broken again.

His gaze strayed down her parted robe and stopped on her nearly bare sex, hidden by only a touch of darkness, and his mouth grew restless, hungry. Starved.

Why couldn’t he just turn off and take her, the way he did with every other woman? Surely if he concentrated hard enough . . . Or why not imagine he was with someone else, the way he sometimes found himself imagining he was with her when he was with another woman?

“I’m not five-foot-nine,” she said, growing angrier. “I’m not a double D. I haven’t had any cosmetic surgery. I wasn’t in the swimsuit edition of
Sports Illustrated
.”

Mitch’s gaze darted up, eyes narrowed. Knowing he’d had an active social life was one thing. With his high-profile dates, he often showed up in the social section of the paper. He’d occasionally had photos of himself and his date printed in magazines if the woman was remotely well known. But Halina wasn’t quoting names; she had intimate details that would have required research.