Rules in Deceit

by Nichole Severn

  Tires caught on the road. The world went hazy as the vehicle wrenched to one side then flipped. Every instinct he owned urged him to reach out for Liz. He loosened his grip on the steering wheel, fighting against gravity to touch her, but the highway rushed up to meet the windshield too fast. The terrorizing fear etched into her features vanished as the roof crumpled under the impact. His head snapped forward, glass breaking all around them. Metal protested against asphalt in his ears, but all he could focus on was Liz’s scream.

  The SUV swung up again, depleting his brain of oxygen, then slammed into the ground. The seat belt cut into his shoulder and across his chest.

  Then there was stillness as the vehicle righted itself.

  His head throbbed in rhythm to his racing heartbeat. A dull ringing filled his ears, but not loud enough to block out the screech of tires nearby. He blinked against the onslaught of chaos surrounding the SUV, vision hazy, tongue thick in his mouth. “Liz.”

  No answer.

  Braxton strained to look at her. “Liz, baby, can you hear me?”

  Footsteps heightened the headache spreading from the crown of his head. Something wet—blood—trickled down the side of his face. He’d hit his head against the driver’s side window during the roll. Shadows crossed his vision on Liz’s side of the vehicle. Wait, no. Just one. The outline of a man closed in on the SUV.

  Black ski mask. Pressed suit. Gun in his hand. Every muscle in his body tensed. Not a civilian.

  “Come on, Sprinkles, wake up.” The seat belt kept Braxton secured in the seat. He fought to reach for his gun that’d fallen from his shoulder holster. He couldn’t move his arms, stomach rocketing into his throat. He leveraged his heels into the floorboards but couldn’t move otherwise. “Elizabeth!”

  The shooter reached in through the broken passenger side window—too close to Liz—and unlocked the door. Raising the gun in his hand toward Braxton, he wrenched the door open then reached for Liz’s seat belt. The SOB wasn’t going to take her. Not happening. Dark eyes centered on him. “Well, that went easier than I imagined.”

  Braxton didn’t recognize the voice, the posture, the suit. No accent. Nothing to lead him to an identity of the man taking the most important thing in his life from him.

  “I’m going to kill you, you bastard.” Braxton ordered his body to move, to reach for his gun, to do anything. No response. A feral scream ripped from his throat. Blood and sweat stung his eyes. He couldn’t lose her. Not yet. Not when she’d just come back into his life. “I’m going to hunt you down, and I’m going to end you.”

  The shooter laughed, dark, merciless, as he compressed the button to Liz’s seat belt, wrapped his grip around her delicate wrist and hefted her over one shoulder. All the while keeping the gun aimed on Braxton. “Good luck with that.”

  Chapter Seven

  Pain. Dizziness. A hard pulsing behind her ears that she could only describe as the beginning of her own death.

  She felt as though she’d been weighed down by lead. Elizabeth struggled to open her eyes, blinking back the heaviness in her brain. Blackness consumed the edges of her vision. She narrowed in on the movement of patterns in front of her. Blackness and...pinstripes? The subtle lines shifted, and she realized the unbalanced sensation charging through her wasn’t dizziness, but movement. The intense pressure in her midsection meant someone had flipped her over their shoulder and was carrying her. She used her remaining strength to raise her head. Tendrils of hair blocked her peripheral vision, but there, straight behind her, was the remains of her destroyed SUV. Sullivan wasn’t going to be too happy about another of Blackhawk Security’s vehicles being totaled, but she couldn’t afford to care. Not with a shooter on their tail. Wait. Confusion gripped her in a tight vise as she sank back against the man carrying her. “Braxton?”

  “Not exactly.” That voice. She recognized that voice from somewhere.

  A whiff of expensive cologne tickled her nose and worked deep into her lungs. No. Not Braxton. He didn’t wear cologne. Which meant... Recognition clicked into place. The air rushed from her lungs. The shooter. He’d called her on the burner phone. He’d—

  A thread of anxiety unraveled inside her, tangling up with anger, resentment and fear. The edge of her shoulder holster dug into her armpit, but with one look, she discovered she’d been relieved of her weapon. Black asphalt passed beneath her. Think, think, think. Rolling her hands into fists, Elizabeth focused all of her attention on the small of the shooter’s back and sank her elbow hard in the curve of his spine as hard as she could.

  His grip around the back of her knees disappeared, and she toppled backward. The highway rushed up to meet her faster than she expected, and she hit the ground. Loose rocks cut into the side of her head, but she rolled in an effort to get to her feet. Stinging pain spread across the other side of her skull as the shooter fisted a chunk of her hair in his hand and hauled her to her feet.

  Six-foot-plus frame, lean, preferred a Windsor knot and a nice suit over Kevlar. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was a start. Elizabeth wrapped her grip around his wrist as he wrenched her into him. The black ski mask hid his mouth as he spoke, but those dark eyes would always stick in her memory. Cold. Calculating. Dangerous. “You’re going to pay for that, but first, you’re going to help me.”

  “You’ve tried to kill me three times and put an innocent man’s life in danger.” Her voice remained steady despite the earthquake exploding inside her. “There’s no way I’d do anything to help you.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Pulling his weapon, the shooter wrenched her into his side and aimed for the totaled SUV. For Braxton still in the driver’s seat. “You should’ve known changing your last name wouldn’t stop me from finding you, Elizabeth. Not when I have Oversight at my disposal.” He pressed his mouth against her ear, and a shiver threatened to overrun her. “How about now? Should I pull this trigger, or are you going to get in the damn car?”

  Bystanders’ screams and panic infiltrated through the pounding of her pulse in her ears. Car doors slammed; tires peeled against the road. Others raised their phones to get the scene on video or capture a photo but didn’t move to interfere. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

  Braxton’s life or her own certain death.

  “Liz, run!” His voice punctured through the sensory overload wrapping itself in a tight fist inside. Braxton struggled to free himself from the crumpled SUV, pulling against the seat belt. The sound of liquid hitting the road claimed her attention. She scanned the wreckage until sunlight reflected off a pool of gas beneath the SUV. Any second now the vehicle could catch fire, and Braxton would be gone.

  “If you kill him now, you lose your leverage. I’ll never help you.” Her heart turned over in her chest, her stomach squeezing tight. No. She wasn’t going to leave him. He wouldn’t leave her. With the shooter’s forearm braced against her collarbones, there was only one thing she could do.

  “True, but you’ve made yourself a new life here. Gotten to know quite a few people.” His laugh rumbled between her shoulder blades. “I have an entire list of leverage, Elizabeth. And I’m not above ticking them off one at a time until you do as I ask. Elliot Dunham, Vincent Kalani, Sullivan Bishop. And your friend Kate? Hasn’t she lost enough?” He moved his finger over the trigger, cocking his head away from her neck. “But today, I think I’ll start with your bodyguard there.”

  She locked her attention on Braxton. “Come find me when this is over.”

  “Good girl.” The shooter dropped his weapon to his side. “Now get in the car.”

  “No.” She took advantage. Inhaling deeply, Elizabeth dropped to her haunches. She rocked back on her heels and sprang back up, shoving her shoulder into his midsection to knock him off balance. He hit the ground, the gun sliding across the asphalt. They both followed its track. One second, two, and then Elizabeth lunged. The shooter recovered almost instantly. Any physic
al fight could cost her everything, but she wasn’t going to let him hurt anyone else. Not when she could end this now. Her best option was that gun. She wrapped her fingers around the barrel as a shoe stomped on her wrist. Bone crunched, and a scream worked up her throat.

  “Elizabeth!” Braxton’s yell barely registered over the high-pitched ringing in her ears.

  The shooter bent down to claim the weapon from her. “You’re not going to win, Elizabeth. I’ve been waiting for this moment for too long. You’re going to help me. Even if I have to kill everyone you’ve ever cared about to force your compliance.”

  She hadn’t been trained in combat like Blackhawk’s weapons expert Anthony Harris, hadn’t been trained to fight like a SEAL as Sullivan had. Hell, even Glennon could take down a room full of men on her own if pushed. But Elizabeth wouldn’t give up. Her life wasn’t the only one that mattered anymore. She was this baby’s mother, and she would do everything in her power to keep her safe.

  “Go to hell.” Elizabeth tossed the gun into her opposite hand and swung up as hard as she could. Metal met flesh and bone of the shooter’s left zygomatic, and he stumbled back. The pressure released off her broken wrist, but as long as adrenaline pumped through her veins, she could deal with the pain. She pushed to her feet and pumped her legs hard. Get to Braxton. Bright green eyes widened as she raised the gun. “Move!”

  Braxton raised his arms over his head and faced toward the broken driver’s side window.

  She pulled the trigger, and the lock of his seat belt exploded. “You’re welcome.”

  A strong hand wrenched the gun from her hand, another latching around her throat. Air pressurized in her lungs as the shooter backed her up against the SUV then aimed the gun at her temple. “Move from the vehicle and I kill her now, Levitt.”

  She couldn’t see Braxton, couldn’t hear him over the drowning sensation threatening to pull her under, but she didn’t have to. He’d promised to protect her, to fight for her, and if there was one thing she couldn’t fault him for, it was that he kept his promises.

  “Let her go. You and I will end this right now.” Fury battered Braxton’s words. The SUV door slammed closed, reverberating through her. Then footsteps. Braxton strode into her peripheral vision, hands tense at his sides. Ready for a fight. “You’re not going to kill her. You need her. Otherwise you would’ve already done it.”

  Calm exhales puffed the ski mask out over the shooter’s mouth. Black eyes studied Braxton as a single tear slipped from Elizabeth’s left eye. He’d cut off her oxygen. She’d either pass out in a few seconds or die right here. And he knew it. He was buying his time, showing he had control. The shooter lowered the gun from her temple then aimed at Braxton. “Then I’ll guess I’ll have to put a bullet in you.”

  He pulled the trigger.

  Braxton spun as the bullet made contact and fell to the ground.

  The scream didn’t make it out as the shooter tightened his hold around her throat. Pulling her into him, he leveled that dark gaze with hers. Sirens and flashing lights closed in on the scene. “One down, Elizabeth. How many more people are you willing to watch die before you give in?”

  Her vision blurred, her body growing heavy.

  He didn’t wait for an answer, wrenching her forward when all she wanted to do was fight back, when all she wanted to do was get to Braxton. But fighting back put her baby at risk.

  She fought to stay upright as blackness closed in at the edges of her vision. Faster than she thought possible, the shooter had shoved her into the trunk of his Mercedes. The engine growled to life as darkness consumed her.

  * * *

  “CALL AN AMBULANCE!” Unfamiliar voices pulled him out of blackness.

  Braxton shot up straight with a gasp in his throat, gravel and glass cutting into his palms. The ache in his chest burned through him, and he clamped a hand over the brand-new hole in his T-shirt and Kevlar. A groan escaped as he pushed to his feet and stumbled through the circle of civilians surrounding him. “Where is she?”

  He scanned the scene as Anchorage PD and a dark SUV identical to Liz’s rolled onto the scene. Vincent Kalani stepped out onto the pavement, and everything inside Braxton froze. While he’d been the one to initially put Liz in the crosshairs by leaving, the call to her burner cell had sealed the deal. None of this—the bullet graze, the crash, her kidnapping—would’ve happened if she hadn’t picked up that call. There was only one number she’d dialed on that phone. Only one way the shooter could’ve gotten through to her.

  Braxton closed in on the forensics expert fast. Rage pushed through him as he fisted his hands in Vincent’s cargo jacket and hauled him back against the SUV. “Where is she? You’re the only one who called that burner. You’re the only one—”

  A right hook to the face knocked Braxton off balance. Vincent straightened to his full six-foot-four frame. Violence etched deep lines into the forensic expert’s expression. “The next time you come at me, you better be sure to finish the job. Understand?”

  A group of Anchorage PD officers stood ready to draw their weapons around him.

  “He took her. That bastard took her.” Braxton ignored the pulse at the left side of his face, a combination of sweat and blood sticking to his scalp. His heart threatened to explode out of his chest. Every minute he’d been unconscious had been another minute she’d gotten farther away. Damn it. One breath, two... Reason returned in small increments as he forced his blood pressure under control. “He contacted her through her burner phone. You’re the only one who had that number.”

  “I would never put Elizabeth in danger. I trust her with my life, and she trusts me with hers. You see, that’s what a team does, Levitt. We trust each other. We risk our lives for each other.” Strain tightened the cords running down Vincent’s neck as he stepped closer. Thick, dark eyebrows drew together. He extracted his phone from his jacket pocket, swiping his thumb across the screen. Handing the phone off, Vincent nodded. “Take it. If we’re going to find her, you’ve got to trust me.”

  Braxton took the phone, his attention immediately drawn to the blinking red dot speeding south along a map of Seward Highway. His hand tightened around the device, the back hot to the touch. Elizabeth. “You’re tracking her.”

  “I’m tracking her earpiece. You’ve got a range of ten miles. I’ll take care of things here.” Vincent extracted the tiny device from his ear then tossed him a set of keys, pain from the bullet flooding through Braxton as he caught them midair. Setting the earpiece in Braxton’s palm, the forensics expert nodded. “Go. Get my teammate back.”

  Braxton pumped his legs hard and inserted the earpiece as he wrenched open Vincent’s SUV door. The engine growled to life as he shoved the vehicle into Drive and jammed his foot into the accelerator. “I’m coming for you, baby, hang on.”

  No answer.

  Seward Highway stretched out in front of him, 125 miles of majestic scenery, trailheads and a hell of a lot of places to take care of a hostage. A groan fought its way up his throat. No. Whoever this guy was, he needed Liz. Otherwise she’d already be dead. Braxton pushed the SUV harder. The shooter would keep her secluded, away from the touristy cabins along the highway. “He’s not going to kill her yet.”

  He glanced down at the phone. Still in range. It’d be another few minutes before he caught up to the Mercedes. Every cell in his body couldn’t stand to be apart from her for another second longer, but he couldn’t force the SUV faster. His fingers drummed hard against the steering wheel. If her kidnapper hurt her, he’d spend the rest of his life hunting the SOB down. “Come on, come on.”

  “Braxton?” Her strained voice spread through him like a wildfire.

  “Liz.” He swallowed hard against the tightening in his throat. She was alive. “Baby, are you hurt?”

  “My wrist...” A hard thunk registered through the earpiece. Then another. She hissed. “I think it’s broken, but I
’m okay. He put me in the trunk. Took the burner phone and my gun. I’m trying to kick out the taillight to see where we are.”

  “I’m coming for you.” He glanced down at the phone’s screen. The red dot blinked strong. A few more miles. That was all it’d take to have her back in his arms. He hadn’t given much thought to his future. All that’d mattered when he’d come back to Anchorage was keeping her alive then moving on with his life if she decided he needed to leave. But now? There was no life without Elizabeth. And he wasn’t going to lose her or their baby now. Brolin might’ve raised him, but Liz and baby Karina were his family now. And nobody threatened his family. He gritted his teeth, fighting against the rising pressure behind his sternum. “Save your energy. I’m tracking your earpiece. I’m not far behind.”

  “Braxton,” she said. “If I don’t make it out of this alive—”

  “You will.” There was no other option. He was already redlining the RPMs. If he pushed the SUV any harder, the engine would explode. His breath came too fast. His heartbeat shook behind his rib cage. Headlights blinded him from the other side of the highway as he made the last curve. Less than a mile between them. “Just keep talking. Focus on my voice, and we’ll get through this. You’re not going to be a vic—”

  Tendrils of smoke rose from the SUV’s engine, the needles in the dashboard falling no matter how hard he pushed the accelerator. Soft ticks from the engine kept rhythm with the headache at the back of his skull as Braxton jerked at the steering wheel. The vehicle slowed from ninety miles plus per hour to a mere twenty in the span of ten seconds. No, no, no, no, no. “Come on!”

  “Braxton? What is it? What’s wrong?” Liz’s voice dropped into panic.