by E. M. Moore
Magnum whips the door open. A blaring alarm goes off, but I hardly hear it because all I see is Magnum running from the concealed cover of the building into who knows what.
“Mag!” I call out.
A thousand different scenarios flood my brain. What if he gets shot, and I just wasted my last moment? What if he doesn’t make it? What if—?
Johnny pushes me toward the door. “Do as he says. Do not look back. Stay low.”
Cool air hits my face, and the dark night sends shivers down my spine as I take my first step toward uncertainty.
12
A rapid succession of gunshots ring out, and I can’t tell who is shooting at who. My feet skid along the pavement as I take off to the left. It’s so disorienting because I’ve never come out this side of the building, and I have no idea where I am in relation to the street.
Go to Oscar’s house they said. Ha. Ha. Ha.
Deliriousness must be setting in. I really shouldn’t be laughing at a time like this.
Through the faint moonlight, a hedgerow comes into view that looks as if it dips into a bit of a ravine.
I head that way, hoping I can hide in the brush as guns fire behind me. My shirt snags on a branch and tears. Cold seeps underneath until my body goes numb. It’s a battle of cold versus hot within me as my adrenaline surges at the same time.
I skid down an embankment when a shadow leaps out of concealment. His surprise attack shocks me into freezing. His massive arms move around me, bear hugging me from the side.
His rank breath coats the side of my neck. “You’re not so tough, are you?”
Well, now, he really shouldn’t have said that.
I lift my foot and slam my heel down onto his foot. His growl turns into a yelp in my ear as I elbow him in the gut to create space.
He reaches out, his hand grasping for me. He catches hold of my shirt, and the sound of it tearing rips through the air.
Wonderful. I’m literally now wearing a scrap of clothing, that doesn’t hide anything, and panties.
I punch the interested look off his face as he basically drools over my chest. I give him a left cross. Blood spurts from his nose, coating me in it from the top half up. A stomp kick to the gut has him dropping back, falling on his ass. “Not so tough, huh?”
He spits out a ream of blood. He bares his teeth at me, and in the dim moonlight, he looks feral. Like some sort of animal that’s been washed up to take me out.
He tries to get to his feet again, but I lift my foot to round kick him in the head. Unfortunately, it doesn’t land. He grabs it, twisting until I fall to the ground.
He crawls toward me, deflecting my attempts to kick him away until he’s on top, unloading all of his weight on me as if he’s a sack of potatoes. I draw in a shaky breath, trying to wiggle my arms between us to give me some space, but he’s like a wet piece of clothing conforming to every available nook and cranny. It wouldn’t surprise me if the guy has trained in Jiu Jitsu.
Lucky for me, so have I.
I elbow him in the face until he gives me enough space to get my arms inside. Then I hook my arms around him and push up while I use my feet as leverage to slide out. Once I’m free, I scramble to my feet, turn, and kick him in the chin while he’s on all fours.
He collapses onto the ground, moaning.
Fury rushes through me. I give him a few solid kicks to the ribs, hoping to incapacitate him so I can catch my breath.
I search the ground for the knife Magnum handed me, and by some dumb luck, I find it propped on a stone near where I skidded down the embankment. I grab it and hold it to the guy’s throat, pressing the tip in to let him know I have no qualms about killing him.
I mean, he probably already gathered that but I’m not going to let him get the jump on me. “Listen here,” I growl. “Who sent you?”
He coughs. Blood splatters over the pebbles where we are. His breathing doesn’t sound so hot. Shallow and gurgling. I probably broke a rib or two, which he fucking deserves.
Up over the ridge of the ravine, the gunfire ceases. If I was certain Magnum or Johnny were around, I’d yell for them, but if there is anyone up there, it might be this asshole’s buddies, and I don’t need him having backup.
“Who are you?”
“Fuck you, Princess,” he spits.
My lips curl. I actually kind of like it when he says it like that. All distasteful. Filled with fury. It felt like I deserved it. “I’m not asking you, I’m fucking demanding you tell me who you are and who you’re associated with.” Let’s get real. This isn’t some random...what? Bombing? And then subsequent gunfire? Come on. You’d have to be a total ditz to believe that.
Plus, it’s awful fucking suspicious that it felt like an explosive went off the day Johnny got back from Chicago. He’s called the Rocket for that reason.
“What are you going to do? Kill me?”
I slip the tip of the knife in further, a stream of blood coating his neck. “Think I won’t?”
“I think it doesn’t matter because I believe in what I’m doing, and I’d rather die than give anything up.”
Well, Christ. That’s completely nuts, but also impressive. I haven’t been properly trained in interrogation techniques. Everything I know I learned from movies, so here goes.
I reach under him and grab his balls. He howls.
“Tell me everything you know, or your sac is the first thing to go.”
He thrashes around, and I have to kick him in the ribs a few times again.
Voices sound above the ridgeline. It’s too dark, and the brush is too thick to see who it is. I crouch low, wishing the asshole here could breathe a little more quietly.
“Did you see where she went?”
“This way,” Johnny answers.
Footsteps skid against pebbles, and it sounds as if they’re going right by me. I have to make a split-second decision to give my position away. I don’t know who else is out there, but if Johnny and Magnum are having a conversation, it must be fine.
I hope.
“Johnny! Mag!”
Footsteps crunch in the gravel. “Did you hear that?”
“Mag,” I call out.
“Over here!” Johnny yells.
The asshole coughs, and I move the blade back to his neck. I eye the shrub line and then glance back to the guy, darting between the two threats. Finally, a figure steps through the branches at the spot where I came down. Two shadows descend the embankment. The one in the back aims a gun at dipshit’s head.
“Kyla,” Johnny says, feet working over the uneven terrain as he makes his way over. He assesses me, pulling his shirt off and handing it to me when he sees what I’m left wearing. He gently takes the knife from my hand, and I pull the shirt over my head, covering my body again and ripping the already shredded shirt away from me.
“Did he...?” Johnny asks, scanning me for evidence.
I shake my head. “Not sure he could have. Seems like a pussy to me.”
The guy does this weird sort of cough-laugh that’s more gurgle than anything else. “Bitch.”
Mag cocks the gun. “I’d watch what you say if I were you.”
“He told me he’d rather die than tell me who he’s working for.”
Johnny bends, grabbing my scraps of shirt before placing his knee into the small of my attacker’s back. While Magnum holds him at gunpoint, Johnny ties his hands together behind his back, and then kicks him over until he rolls onto his back. “Recognize him?”
Mag peers down, brow cinching. “No.”
“Me either,” Johnny huffs. “We’ve got to blindfold this asshole and get to the safe house.”
Safe house? This is news. I thought the tower was the safe house. An impenetrable fortress. What ever happened to that idea?
“I’ll get us a car,” Mag says. He lifts his shirt, putting his gun in the back of his waistband. He walks by, gaze sliding over me. He, too, searches for injuries. Other than some cuts and scrapes, my right arm is a little sore.
I’m pretty sure I used it to catch some of my fall when I came down the ravine.
Johnny beckons me forward, and I move toward him. He puts his arm around my shoulders, and I place my palm on his chest. His skin is cool to the touch.
“Did he hurt you?”
I shake my head, and he kisses my temple. “Looks like he got the worst of it.”
The guy is keeping his mouth shut. Smart move.
I find myself looking at him, searching for clues as if I’ll be able to find out who he’s working with. He has to know he’s pretty well fucked right now. Johnny has him, and he’s not getting away.
A short honk comes from the opposite side of the bank. Shortly after, Mag skids down the ravine, and then he and Johnny wrench the guy up, dragging him under the arms up the slope. I scramble to the top. Dirt and mud cling to my hands. Idling on the side of the road is a small car. When he and Johnny get to the top of the ravine, Mag takes his shirt off and wraps it around the attacker’s face, covering his eyes. Looking at a shirtless Magnum and Johnny, I would think I was at some sort of Chippendale show, but the bleeding asshole takes away the effect of that. I knew I hated this guy. I hope this isn’t the only chance I’ll get to see Magnum and Johnny shirtless in the same room at the same time because if it is, I’m going to kill this guy for ruining it.
“I’ll get in the back with him.” Mag drags the guy to the backdoor, shoving him inside none too gently. The two of them in the backseat look like packed sardines because the enemy asshole is easily as big as Magnum.
Johnny opens the passenger door for me, and I slip inside, pulling my seatbelt around me and making sure it locks in place.
Once in the driver’s seat, Johnny starts the car. He places his hand on my thigh and squeezes. When he looks up, he makes the shh motion to me, and I nod knowingly. He doesn’t want the guy to figure out where this safe house is in case he gets away, even though I highly doubt that’s happening.
We ride in silence, which is an opportune time to get my thoughts together. Soon, my adrenaline crashes, and I start to shake. It’s like coming off the worst high. Johnny rubs my leg harder as I tremble beside him. He’s trying to calm me, but I either need to exercise it out or lie down with my eyes closed and zen it away.
We drive away from the city, and I can’t be too sure, but I’m almost positive I’ve seen the same houses a couple of times, so it wouldn’t surprise me if Johnny is not only taking the long way there but also driving around a few blocks in an attempt to throw the guy off. It would surprise me if the guy is even conscious beneath his blindfold, but who knows.
Forty minutes later, we’re in the thick of the forest when Johnny hangs a right, slowing the car. The ruts in the dirt drive bounce the car around, but eventually, we pull into a much more level gravel area.
A few black-clad bodyguards jog down the wood steps, approaching the car with guns drawn. Johnny turns the interior light on in the car, and they stow their weapons away, coming toward us in earnest now that they know we’re friends and not foes.
A guard wrenches my door open and hauls me to my feet. I step away from him as he does a cursory once-over, injury shopping. I wave him away, and by then, Johnny is beside me, pulling me to him.
The guards take over from there, leading our captive to a barn-like building to the west. I can’t imagine the horrors that await him there as I’m sure they’re way more adept at interrogation.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Johnny says.
The structure in front of us is a beautiful two-story log cabin. It’s so homey looking that the backdrop highlighting all the bodyguards stands out. This could be any family’s weekend cabin. Especially since it’s deep in the woods where no one else is around. I can’t even imagine where the nearest neighbor is.
Johnny leads me up the front stairs to a wrap-around porch. He pulls open a storm door, and I’m greeted with more wood inside, coupled with soft lighting and rustic fixtures. Don’t get me wrong, everything is new, it’s just designed to look old and lived in.
I immediately fall in love with the place. It couldn’t be more different from the tower. Instead of the sterile white and steel, it’s warm and inviting.
“Where are we?”
“Our safe house,” Johnny explains. “We only use it in emergencies, such as when we can’t access the tower.”
I run my hands through my hair, my fingers getting stuck in a rat’s nest. I give up and toss my hair over my shoulders.
“Up here,” Johnny says. He takes my hand, gently holding my fingers. “We’ll get you washed up, so we can see your injuries better.”
“What about you?” I ask, looking him over from head-to-toe. “Did you get hurt?”
He shakes his head. “Mag drew all the fire. I backed him up, trying to pick people off, so you could get away.”
“I tried,” I tell him. “The guy jumped me.”
He pulls open a door at the very end of the hall on the second floor, and we move into what must be the master bedroom. The huge space boasts an enormous bed in the middle of the room. Behind me, Johnny turns the light on and a fan whirs overhead. Beyond the bed, sliding-glass doors lead out onto a back deck.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
“Gorgeous,” I tell him. It’s the perfect place I would’ve conjured up for myself when I just want to get away. To escape somewhere where no one knew me.
After a moment, he pulls me in the opposite direction. The harsh light of the bathroom illuminates a modern bathroom that somehow goes with all the other rustic design elements. Johnny drops my hand and moves to a whirlpool tub that looks big enough to fit three people. He turns the faucet on, checking the temperature, before turning toward me.
“I’ll grab you some clothes,” he says. “And I have to make a few calls, but I’ll be right here if you need me.”
I nod, and he moves forward, pressing a chaste kiss to my forehead. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
I wind my arms around his waist, dropping my head to kiss the top of his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay,” I say over his skin.
“One of these days, I’m going to tell you that you don’t have to worry about anything and mean it.”
I close my eyes, wondering when that day comes, what that point in time might look like? I can only hope it doesn’t include people trying to kill us but does include three other gorgeous men.
That’s what I would call perfection.
13
After lingering in the tub, scrubbing down from head to toe until all the dirt and grime has disappeared and my hair is finally untangled, I find a towel on the edge of the tub, wrap it around my body, and emerge from the water.
It’s been a hot minute since I’ve taken a bath, and I have to admit it was relaxing and perfect.
I pad out to the master bedroom and find a stack of clothes on the bed. They’re just joggers and a plain shirt, so I pull them on even though they’re a couple of sizes too big. I cinch the ties around the waist and roll up the hem, so the pant legs aren’t dragging over the floor as I walk.
Sticking my head out the door, I listen for Johnny. He said he had to make a few phone calls, but he never came back.
I retreat down the stairs, but no one is in the house. It’s empty. The ticking of the second hand on the clock above the living room mantle sends shivers up my spine. I hug my arms to myself as I peer out the front door. The lights are on in the barn where Mag took our captive. The functional part of my brain warns me that I won’t like what I see in there, but the dysfunctional part of my brain tells me it doesn’t matter. I’m just as deeply involved as the rest of these guys, and I don’t believe for one second it’s a coincidence that the moment Johnny gets back from Chicago, someone tries to blow up the tower.
The driveway pebbles sting my feet, but I walk crisply over the gravel, anyway. The side door is unlocked, so I let myself in. Voices, as if coming from a tunnel, sound from the corner of the room. There, another doorway looms, and it leads
to a descending staircase. I take the steps, my foot hitting the bottom cement, where the voices are crystal clear now.
A single light fixture dangles in the middle of the room. The floor is tiled, and a chair sits in the center of the space with a halo of light surrounding it. Encircling the guy who tried to take me out is a ring of Heights Crew men. Johnny’s in the middle, looming over the asshole, watching as streams of blood run from a cut on his forehead. The captor’s eyes are badly bruised and swollen now. He can barely see out of his right eye. It’s so puffy it’s gross. The guy acts as if he’s not in the worst shape imaginable though. “The girl was better at this than you guys. At least she threatened to chop my dick off.”
“Actually, it was your balls,” I say, moving forward. “And there’s still time.”
Johnny and Mag both turn, catching a glimpse of me. I give them both small smiles of reassurance. Honestly, for as terrifying as the moment was, I’m not severely injured and neither are the guys. That’s all we can ask for.
Johnny leaves the circle, and the other bodyguards close rank around the chair, blocking us out. “I’m sorry,” Johnny says, giving me an apologetic smile. “I had to take care of this.”
I peer over his shoulder. The guy is leering at me between two solid bodies. Magnum whacks him upside the head with the butt of his gun, which is probably how he got the cut on his forehead in the first place now that I think about it.
“I know,” I tell him. “We have to figure out where the threat is coming from.”
Johnny runs his hands through his dark hair, exhaling. He’s exhausted. He only just got home from Chicago, had an intense conversation with me, and then the building started shaking and we got shot at. That’s enough for anyone’s nerves to be frayed down the middle.
“Is he going to talk?”
“He’s being pretty tight-lipped. I’m guessing he’s been around the block a few times.”