Wild on You (6 page)

“My orders are to keep you here until she gets back, in about two hours. Her father’s just paranoid—”

“Have you read the police report about the hit-and-run attempt?” Dammit, his hands were shaking, he was so pissed. And worried. “First off, if she thought it was an accident, why did she report it to the cops? Second, did you see her injuries?” His stomach had clenched at the pictures showing the raw scrapes along Addie’s arm. She’d looked shaken up and pale.

Obviously Shirley hadn’t seen her injuries, by the shock on her face. “She said it was a few scrapes. Is that why she was wearing long sleeves in the summer?”

Risk had subtly trapped Shirley between his body and the van. “Someone wants her dead. Someone who knew she’d be here. Now she’s off doing …”

He stared her down, and whatever she saw in his expression encouraged her to admit, “Stealing a tiger cub from the zoo that was supposed to be here.”

Addie Wunder was the most maddening person he’d ever met. He’d been protecting her for under an hour, and she’d given him the slip. Using goats, for God’s sake.

“Where did she go, Shirley?”

“She’s going to kill me if—”

“Someone might kill
her
if you don’t.” He drilled her with the same expression he used on the bad guys. “Where is she?”

Shirley spilled, giving him directions and Addie’s plan to approach from behind. “She usually hides the keys to the van beneath the seat.”

He jammed his hand down there and found them. In three seconds, he was pulling out of the protest area. “Stealing a tiger cub. Son of a
bitch
.” He remembered Chase saying this wasn’t going to be an easy assignment, with that knowing smile.

Chase. If something happened to Addie, Risk would lose this job. Deservedly so. He couldn’t take another fail, not so soon after the defuckle.

But it was Addie he was worried about. If something happened … Her sweet, impish grin and big blue eyes flashed to mind. His foot pressed harder on the accelerator. He forced himself to ease up. The last thing he needed was to be stopped in a vehicle that didn’t belong to him, with a Glock 23 on his person. Even though he had a concealed-weapons permit, in addition to his security company ID, he didn’t have time to get hassled.

He slowed when he got near the zoo’s new site, looking for telltale signs of an entry point into the woods. He found one past the zoo and followed the trail of broken branches and saplings. A few minutes later, his heart gave a jolt at the sight of the brown
van in the distance. Then his heart dropped to his feet when he saw another vehicle a short distance from the van.

Risk killed the engine, released the Glock from the holster, and made his way toward the van, alert for any movement. He heard Addie shout, “Get away from me!” and then
oof
as someone obviously hit the ground. And that
oof
sounded a lot like her.

He ran.

He had approached a suspicious scene many a time, had come up on potential ambushes, but he’d never
felt
before. All emotion usually fled in such scenarios, necessary for clarity of thought. Now fear pounded through him. All he could see was Addie’s face, turned to the side against the ground, as he came around the front of the van. Then a bulky guy sitting on her as if she were a rodeo calf.

Sitting on her
. Holy hell, Risk now knew the meaning of seeing red. An older guy stood to the side with a gun pointed at her. Neither man saw his approach, too focused on her. Risk shot the piece right out of his hand. The guy stumbled back, taken off guard because Risk’s gun was suppressed. His eyes bugged out at the sight of Risk’s gun, aimed at him.

“Move away from her.” Risk shifted his gun to the dude who looked like a wrestler, as square as a brick with no sign of a neck.

The man scrambled to his feet, Addie clamped in his arms like a shield.
Coward
. He stepped in front of the older guy. “Got you covered, Alan.” He aimed a smug look at Risk. “Shoot us and hit the girl.”

The guy was smarter than he looked. Especially when he pulled out a gun of his own and held it to Addie’s side. “This doesn’t concern you. This here girl’s a criminal. We’re taking her to the police.” He nodded toward the van, though Risk couldn’t see inside from his angle. “Caught her stealing.”

Risk dared a glance at Addie’s face, knowing it was going to kill him to see her fear. Yeah, she looked scared, all right, and just as pissed. Though her shirt and pants were covered in dirt, she seemed mostly unhurt. He was going to make damned sure she stayed that way, a tricky proposition, considering the two thugs had her
and
a gun.

“Then why don’t I call the cops?” Risk reached for his phone.

The wrestler shoved his gun into Addie’s side so hard that she yelped. “Don’t touch the phone. We’ll handle it.”

Alan crooked his hand. “Gimme the gun, hotshot.”

Without his gun, the odds of this situation working out well were not going to be in Risk’s favor. No-neck pressed his muzzle into Addie’s side even harder when Risk hesitated. If Addie were one of his SEAL team members, he’d give her a signal that would convey
Be ready to react
. He met her eyes and lowered his chin just a bit. Amazingly, she blinked as if she’d gotten it.

“Gimme the dang gun!” Alan shouted.

Addie shoved the wrestler off balance so they both careened to the ground. As Alan went for the gun that had gone flying, Risk fired. The bullet hit his shoulder. Alan jerked back, and Risk dove into the scuffle happening between Addie and No-neck. He stopped at the sight of the guy holding the gun to her head.

“Back off, asshole! And drop your gun!” No-neck jerked Addie to her feet, one hand gripping her arm. She grimaced at the muzzle jammed against her temple, her body stiff. “You all right, Alan?”

“I’ll live.” Alan got to his feet, holding his shoulder and wincing. Blood spurted out between his fingers. He aimed a hard look at Risk. “We’re not fooling around. Drop the damned weapon.”

Risk’s fingers twitched as he assessed the situation. The man holding Addie was so tensed, anything could make him pull the trigger. Risk couldn’t chance it. He tossed the Glock a few feet in front of him, already thinking about how best to retrieve his reserve weapon.

Alan grabbed Risk’s brand-new gun and turned it to the side. “Nice. Always wanted one of these.” He gestured with his chin. “Doug, put her in the van.” He shoved the gun toward Risk when he reacted to those last words. “We’re going to have a talk with the young lady here about violating the law, is all.”

Risk had felt this kind of frustration and helplessness during an ambush in
Afghanistan when one of his comrades had been captured … and then blown to bits only yards away. Risk’s shrapnel scars were proof of what a lucky bastard he was. That brought him no comfort, not when his buddy was gone.

The wrestler—Doug—shoved Addie into the passenger side. Risk could see her pretending to be off-balance, so he had to struggle to keep the gun on her and close the door.

Addie, don’t do anything crazy and get yourself shot
.

Alan climbed in on the driver’s side. Before he closed the door, he took a shot at Risk, who had seen it coming; he dove to the side, rolling on the ground. Before he could jump to his feet, the van backed toward him. He flattened, pulling his arms in straight, and the van rolled over him. Problem was, as soon as it cleared him, he was in plain sight—and directly in front of the van. He somersaulted out of the way a second before the front bumper would have driven into his head.

“Shoot him!” he heard Alan shout through the open driver’s window.

“I’m having enough trouble keeping the crazy animal broad under control.”

Addie, dammit—

Risk didn’t have time to finish the thought. He grabbed the back bumper as the van had another try at him. He clamped his legs on to it, muscles straining at the lack of any real purchase. The van lurched forward, nearly dislodging him.

“Where is he?” Alan growled. “Look out your mirror.”

“I don’t see him.”

The vehicle made a sudden stop, then started careening backward—right toward a big-assed oak tree. This time Risk could grab the rear door handle and pull himself to the side a second before the van hit the trunk. He barely held on by his fingertips as the vehicle pulled forward. The van turned in a circle as the son of a bitch looked for him.

Enough of this shit
.

He hoisted himself up to the roof, landing as softly as possible. The last time he’d done this, it had been pitch dark in the godforsaken desert, and cold as hell. He clambered across the roof, staying low to keep his balance. Getting as good a grip as he could, he
swung his body into the open driver’s window, driving his feet into Alan’s head.

He put so much pissed-off energy into it that he shoved Alan into Addie and sent her and the wrestler tumbling right out the passenger door. Risk seized his gun from the console as Alan lunged for the wheel. The poor cub was screaming up a storm, though at least the cage was still upright.

He didn’t have time to worry about the cub or Alan; he jumped out the open passenger door in a dive roll. He ended up with an awkward grip on his Glock, and it flew out of his hand as he came up. Addie was wrestling for control of Doug’s revolver, a sight that sent Risk’s heart sputtering with fear. The guy was probably three times her size. And gun wrestling wasn’t a great idea in itself.

Seeing Risk coming, Addie released her hold on it and scooted out of the way. Risk slammed his open hand into the side of Doug’s head, sending him flat to the ground. But the bastard still gripped the gun. Doug brought the muzzle around, but Risk blocked him, then reached for it.

Doug pulled his arm back to punch Risk, but Addie latched on to his overcooked biceps to hold him back. Risk twisted around and kicked the guy in the abs. Addie grunted with the strain of trying to hold his arm.

“I’ve got it, Addie. Back off. You’re going to get hurt.”

She was looking beyond Risk, her eyes wide. “Watch out!”

He didn’t need to look; he heard the van coming. He wrapped his arms around her in a tackle and sent them rolling across the ground. The van stopped, and Doug scurried inside. He aimed the gun at them, and Risk continued the roll as bullets spat dirt only inches away. He jerked her to her feet as another bullet hit a tree a foot away. He pulled her into the trees, where they grew too close together for the van to penetrate.

Stymied, Alan tore off in the other direction, and Risk heard another gunshot. No sign of it coming this way.

“They’re taking my van!” she said between breaths, staring after the vehicle. “The cub …”

“Hell, woman, you almost got yourself killed, and you’re worried about a tiger?”

Her chest rose and fell with her gasps. “That tiger is why I’m here.”

He shook his head, but he couldn’t stop looking her over to make sure she was unhurt. “Forget about the cat for a second. Are you all right?” The sight of those guys with her, the gun to her head … the memory clenched his stomach all over again.

“I’m fine.” She shook her head a little too vigorously. “Totally fine.”

Women in combat reacted differently to an attack, remaining steady in the moment and then getting an overload of adrenaline twenty minutes later. Men reacted in the moment, their adrenaline spiking immediately but fading faster.

He checked his watch. He’d be ready. “Come on, I need to get my gun.” The Glock lay on the disturbed earth where they’d fought. He scooped it up and checked it, then saw what they’d shot at the last time: the SUV’s rear tire. “They wanted to make sure we didn’t follow in the car they brought.”

“Now we can find out who it’s registered to.”

“I doubt it.” He checked the interior and saw the wires hanging down below the dashboard. “It’s stolen. Hotwired.” He pointed to a roll of duct tape and some plastic ties between the front seats. “These guys aren’t just trying to scare you, Addie. Do you see that now?”

She nodded, looking so vulnerable and scared that it was all he could do not to stalk over and pull her into his arms. He needed her to be scared.

He pointed to a wrinkled glove. “They wore gloves, which means they didn’t leave any prints.”

Three men were running through the woods toward them. More goons. Risk hauled her toward the van he’d brought. When he headed to the driver’s side, she ran to the passenger side. The men faded into the distance as he hauled ass out of there.

Once they were on the highway, Risk said, “Your little scheme was a goat rope, for sure, but figuring out how we’re going to manage this situation is a real mess. I ought to throw you over my knee and spank you for sneaking off like that.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He shook his head. “Don’t dare me. Because I will.”

She gave him an indignant look with a flare of challenge in her eyes. “You wouldn’t, because that would be very unprofessional.”

“Maybe so, but you know what Chase tells us as well as our clients? We run our missions in the best way we see fit. And right now I’m fit to lay you across my thighs and smack that behind of yours for putting yourself in danger.”
And scaring the hell out of me
.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You’re bluffing.”

He pulled down a country lane and out of sight of the highway, then stopped the van. She looked around nervously, and her eyes grew big when he stood up. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Not bluffing.” He scooped her up around that little waist and carried her between the seats to the back. He had to follow through, because if he didn’t, she’d never take his threats seriously.

“Hey, put me down!”

“Yes, ma’am.” And he did, facedown over his thighs. When she wriggled, he placed a hand on her lower back to hold her still. Then he smacked that fine, tight ass of hers.

She squealed. “I can’t believe you—”

Another smack. Another squeal.

“Did your dad ever wallop you for misbehaving?” he asked.

“No, never!”

“Well, he should have.” Another smack. He let his hand rest on her behind for just a second before giving her one more.