Colder Than Sin (Cold Justice - Crossfire: FBI Romantic Suspense Book 2)

by Toni Anderson

  This night was turning into one surprise after another. But give him sex with a beautiful woman over bullets any time of the day or night.

  Quentin raked her figure with a glance, mentally tallying what they needed to do. He strode to the bathroom where his gym kit still hung on the door handle, then went to his luggage and tossed her a pair of socks and his sneakers. They were probably too big but better than going barefoot and certainly better than four-inch heels.

  “Put those on.”

  She dressed without argument, then sat on the bed and pulled on the socks and shoes he’d given her. Quentin grabbed his cell as he quickly tugged on a pair of boxers and black pants, followed by a dark t-shirt. Found a pair of socks and toed on his black leather shoes.

  Automatic weapon fire sounded from the lobby.

  This did not sound good.

  He put in a quick call to the American ambassador’s number, but the call didn’t connect. No signal. Fuck.

  “Could it be some sort of demonstration by one of the security firms?” Haley asked quickly, coming to stand beside him.

  If it was, he was going to go downstairs and smash his fist through someone’s face. But the screams told him this was no pantomime.

  “Sounds like a terrorist attack. And I don’t have a weapon.” He didn’t try to conceal his frustration. As much as he wanted to help people, he couldn’t go head-to-head with an assault rifle and expect to last more than a few seconds before dying in a hail of bullets.

  “Wenck’s bodyguards have weapons,” she added.

  Give him a gun, and he stood a chance of saving some lives. Give him several trained people with weapons, and they could take these fuckers down.

  “Stay here and only open the door for me, understand?” He eased it ajar and checked the corridor. Clear.

  The sounds of gunshots, glass breaking, people screaming clawed at his conscience, but these weren’t innocent tourists downstairs. They were some of the top operators in the world. The problem was, like him, none of them were armed and none of them were bulletproof.

  Where was Chris? In the hotel? Or had he gone into town for that drink? Quentin hoped the latter. He didn’t even know where the guy’s room was, but Chris was a survivor. He’d get out.

  Quentin knocked on the thick wooden door of the suite next door. “Mr. Wenck? Cecil? It’s Quentin Savage. Let me in.”

  Nothing.

  Dammit. He couldn’t risk standing here too long. If shooters got in the elevator or came up the stairs, he was a sitting duck. He went back to his room where Haley held the door. He closed it, locked it and added a chair beneath the knob for a little additional security.

  More screams that tore through his conscience. Haley swallowed audibly. “We have to help them.”

  He gritted his teeth. Did she think he wasn’t wracking his brain trying to figure out a strategy that might save lives? “We’ve got no chance unarmed against that sort of firepower.”

  “We can’t just let people die.” Her voice rose in anger.

  He put his hands gently on her shoulders. “As Americans we are prime targets for death or hostage material. We have no weapons, and they’re going to make your incident with Wenck seem like a spa day. We go out the window, and you hide in the jungle until the authorities arrive. Once you’re safe, I’ll see if I can pick off a terrorist with an automatic rifle and attempt to fight back. Anything else is suicide.”

  She jerked out of his hold, and her eyes went huge as another round of gunfire ended with a sharp scream not too far away.

  “We can’t help them, Haley. Not yet.” But he could help her. She was his responsibility, and he didn’t intend to let her be harmed if he could help it.

  The sounds were coming closer. Hell. It sounded like attackers were shooting the locks off doors on the floor below and breaking into hotel rooms, probably killing people where they tried to hide.

  They had to get out of here.

  He grabbed his credentials and wallet and tucked them beneath the mattress. If captured, he did not want to be identified as a federal agent. They’d put a bullet straight through his brain, or worse…

  “Follow me. We’re going to jump to your balcony and use the creeper on the side of the hotel to descend to the ground level near the corner—it’s not near any of the main function rooms. We’ll check for tangos and if it’s clear, we head into that patch of forest beside the hotel.” He pointed southeast. “After that, we’ll play it by ear, but we need to be quiet. No talking when we exit this room.” He checked his watch. They had hours of darkness, which helped. Hopefully the authorities would be here soon to help stage a rescue.

  She grabbed her cell from her clutch and stuffed it in the pocket of the shorts she wore.

  He led the way, easing open the door onto the balcony and gazing out into the darkness. More screams from around the other side of the hotel and a slight whiff of smoke. They’d set fire to the building, either to destroy it entirely or flush people out of their rooms.

  Quentin stared at Wenck’s balcony. Dammit, he couldn’t leave the man here to die when they stood a good chance of escaping this way.

  “Wait here,” he told Haley.

  He jumped over to Wenck’s suite and tapped on the glass of the door, hoping to hell the bodyguards weren’t trigger happy. He tried the handle, and it opened. He poked his head inside. “Mr. Wenck? It’s Quentin Savage. I think I know how we can get out of here.”

  He took a few steps inside then glanced into the living room. It was empty, and all the man’s belongings were gone. It looked as if Wenck had checked out. Had he made it away before the terrorists attacked?

  Quentin went back to the balcony and scanned the darkness below. Quiet for now. It wouldn’t stay free of tangos forever, so they better get moving. He jumped back to his balcony where Haley crouched out of sight of anyone on the ground. He pulled her to her feet and climbed onto the railing and leapt across the short space to her balcony, feeling his heart wobble a little when some loose mortar rattled to the ground. He waited a second, then turned and held his arms out to Haley. She looked nervous but didn’t hesitate.

  He caught her, and pulled her against him. They both sucked in a breath of relief.

  “Now to climb down to ground level,” he whispered.

  The sound of machine gun fire on the opposite corner of the hotel had them freezing in place. Someone screamed, and one of the conference delegates sprinted across the darkened lawn toward the pool that was lit up with tiki torches. It was a CEO of a big US security company. He was brought down with a blast of bullets to the back. Quentin pushed Haley’s face against his chest to smother her sounds of distress.

  The dead man had been a former Special Forces soldier, and he’d still known that, without the right equipment, the only reasonable option was to run and hide. If the terrorists spotted them up here on this balcony, they were next.

  Someone started beating on the door to Haley’s room. It was only a matter of time until the militants broke in and found them.

  “We have to go. Now. I’m going to go first to make sure it will hold our weight. I’ll catch you if you fall.”

  “Who’ll catch you?” Haley slowly released her grip on his shirt.

  He smiled slightly. That wasn’t how this worked. “Don’t stop moving for anything. Not even if a terrorist starts firing. The aim of those AKs is for shit. Move fast. If we get separated head to the trees. Hide in the darkness and don’t come out until you know it is safe.”

  Neither of them mentioned the dead contractor lying on the grass a hundred yards away.

  Quentin grabbed on to the thick vine. It sagged a little unnervingly under his hundred-eighty-pound weight but held. If it supported him, it would hold Haley. He rapidly made his way down the vine, the scent of broken leaves mixing with gunpowder in the air.

  He didn’t have to tell Haley to follow. As soon as he hit the ground, her shadow attached itself to the vine with unnervingly pale limbs. The rustle of leav
es as she quickly clambered down was unavoidable. More gunfire, and he hugged the building as shouts in the local language floated on the air.

  The smoke was thicker now. Choking.

  His heart beat in his chest like a war drum. He’d trained for this kind of mission, been involved in enough takedowns and arrests to know that adrenaline was the enemy as much as the guys with guns. Panic, and they were fucked. Keep a clear head, and they had a sliver of a chance.

  Haley lowered herself far enough that he could reach her, and he lifted her into his arms before carefully placing her feet on solid ground. She was breathing heavily but not freaking out.

  What he wouldn’t give to be making love to her one more time rather than running for their lives through a jungle in the darkness. He took her hand and glanced around the corner of the building. Flames flickered orange near the entranceway. Most of the gunshots were coming from the bar area to the southwest that had probably been full of half-drunk delegates relaxing after a tiring few days.

  Crouching low, he and Haley jogged across the short patch of grass and into the shrubs and bushes that marked the edge of the jungle. Rather than blindly crashing around, Quentin wound his way carefully and slowly through the trees, eyes and ears alert for tangos guarding the perimeter, on the lookout for escapees.

  Haley’s fingers gripped his. This was a terrifying situation, one he was woefully unprepared for, but she hadn’t fought him on this course of action. If she was feeling half as remorseful as he was for leaving people behind, then she felt like crap.

  A branch snapped about twenty feet ahead of him, and they both froze. He could feel her trembling.

  They crouched low, not even breathing as a man detached himself from behind a tree and crushed a cigarette beneath his boot. Dammit. They’d almost walked straight into him.

  With Haley behind him, they were almost invisible in the darkness. Quentin debated whether or not to grab the guy and steal his weapon, but he didn’t think he could do it silently. His primary objective right now was to get Haley Cramer to safety, report the situation to FBI HQ, and then go see if he could save anyone else.

  The terrorist moved away out of sight, and Quentin crept through the encompassing darkness, ignoring the buzz of insects seeking fresh blood. He hoped he didn’t encounter any venomous snakes along the way. He hated snakes, but they were preferable to their human cousins right now. After ten minutes walking, the sounds of death and violent destruction were muted, but neither of them spoke until the soft lap of waves announced they’d reached the beach.

  They stayed hidden in the trees. Being on the beach itself was too exposed, and they couldn’t swim to safety. They had to hide.

  North was a steep cliff with jungle so dense it was virtually impenetrable. South led to the hotel’s private beach.

  “Let’s find a spot in the trees to regroup. I’m going to call Washington and see how fast they can send backup.”

  “Good idea,” Haley whispered back.

  They crept thirty feet into the jungle. Quentin cleared a patch of ground beside a huge tree using his shoes, hoping he was effective enough to scare away critters without being noisy enough to attract any unwanted attention from gun-wielding maniacs. He sat down on the ground, the relief of being safe for now mixing with distress at the knowledge others were suffering and in danger.

  He checked his phone, grateful for the bars that indicated he had service thanks to the cell phone tower on the hillside above his head. He dialed a number for a friend at SIOC, the Strategic Information & Operations Center at headquarters. Indonesia was eleven hours ahead of everyone back home.

  “McKenzie.”

  “Mac, listen up. It’s Quentin Savage from CNU. I’m on Pulau Nabat, Indonesia, at a security symposium which has just been attacked by what I am assuming are heavily armed terrorists. Myself and a woman named Haley Cramer managed to get out of the hotel by climbing down the outside from the upper balconies. We’re hiding in the jungle. I tried to get a call in to the US Ambassador in Jakarta but couldn’t get a signal. I wanted to contact HQ directly with an update. You need to arrange for assistance from the Indonesian authorities.” Quentin realized with a growing sense of despondency that there was very little he could actually tell the man. “I saw one guy shot in the back as he ran away. They’ve set fire to the hotel to flush people out of their rooms, or burn them to death, I—” He cleared his throat. “I don’t have a weapon. I couldn’t save anyone else…”

  “Buddy, sounds like you did the only thing you logically could.”

  Logic didn’t make Quentin feel any better.

  A hand found his in the darkness and squeezed tight. Haley Cramer knew exactly how he felt. He pressed her hand back, hoping she got some comfort from him being here with her.

  She’d had a rough night.

  Where the hell had Cecil Wenck disappeared to? Had he decided to split in case Haley brought charges against him? Or had he decided on a firm and signed a deal and gone home to his long-suffering wife? Or had he been tipped off about the terrorists’ arrival? All were distinct possibilities, the last was Quentin’s most pressing question.

  Haley called someone on her cell and murmured quietly in the darkness. He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but he could feel her spine move against his back as she spoke. The human contact was reassuring.

  “Can you tell me your exact location?” McKenzie asked.

  “Near the beach beneath the hotel’s cell tower.”

  “Are you safe?”

  “For now,” Quentin stated uneasily. “I’m going to creep back and see what I can observe from the woods. Maybe I can get a gun—”

  “Negative. Stay concealed until the troops get there. Just heard from the Ambassador that Indonesian police are on their way. I am about to call SIOC’s Section Chief and get him to talk to Defense. See if we have any ships in the area that can assist. Any idea how many US nationals are involved?”

  “About a hundred? Many of the top private military contractors in the world are here.” All unarmed unless they arrived by boat or private aircraft or arranged something to be delivered ahead of time. “I haven’t heard anything that sounds like an exchange of fire. It sounds more like a massacre.”

  This was a massive coup for a group of militants. Had they read about the conference? Had someone told them about it?

  “Keep out of sight. I have a US Navy vessel fifty miles offshore rerouting to the scene. Should be there before dawn. You need to hold on that long.”

  “Thanks. Talk to you later.” Quentin hung up.

  That’s when he heard it.

  The echo of laughter close by.

  Chapter Six

  Haley was shaking so badly as she dialed Alex’s cell, she almost dropped the phone. He didn’t answer. The guy had just had a baby, so she wasn’t surprised, but this was more his field of expertise than Dermot’s, and she needed a little advice.

  She considered herself a competent professional, but nothing had prepared her for being attacked in a luxury hotel, knowing her fellow civilians were being slaughtered nearby and being unable to do anything about it. Nothing had prepared her for watching a man gunned down in cold blood while she stood by too terrified to even scream. Nothing had prepared her for the primal fear that had coursed through her veins, knowing people were actively trying to kill her, and the only viable option she had for survival was running for her life.

  What the hell had happened to the security hired for the conference?

  Alex’s voice reached out of the darkness, and she wanted to sob in relief even though it was only his voice mail message. Damn, but she’d desperately needed to hear his voice.

  Inhaling a calming breath, she cradled the phone with both hands and quietly told him her location, what had happened and who she was with. Then emotions bubbled up, emotions she normally kept battened down, because they didn’t do any damn good.

  “If anything happens to me, don’t you dare try to take responsibility. You ca
n’t protect everyone, especially not someone as pigheaded as I am. Look after Mal. You’ve got a keeper there. Treat her like a queen. Kiss Georgina from me and find Dermot a wife for god’s sake. He’ll never get there on his own. I love you. Don’t fuck anything up if I…” She swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

  She found herself back to back with Savage, leaning against him for support. She prided herself on the fact she didn’t need anyone and yet, tonight, she wasn’t sure she would have survived without him. He’d been a rock. But she shouldn’t need a rock.

  Her company helped prevent bad things from happening to others, and she was good at her job. But twice in one night her confidence in her own abilities had been shattered. Rather than proving she was an equal, she’d turned out to be the weak link.

  Self-loathing rose up inside her. So much for her famous swagger. It was all just a front. She was furious with herself and yet didn’t know what she could have done different and still be around to talk about it.

  She straightened so she wasn’t relying on Savage for support and instantly missed the connection. He turned and grabbed her thigh in a grip that was shockingly strong and full of warning. She hung up the call and pressed the screen against her chest to quench the light.

  Voices.

  Men’s voices.

  Oh, shit. Her skin went cold.

  They weren’t hiding but ambling casually through the bush like tourists on a day hike.

  “Conceal yourself under that bush and don’t move. I’ll hide under another one over here. If they catch me, stay hidden. Hold tight. Navy are on the way.”

  He seemed to drift away on the night air and disappeared into the ether, leaving her all alone. She moved carefully, easing under the thick branches and hoping to god there was nothing poisonous down here. The bottom line was, these men were way scarier than any other creature, no matter how many legs it had. Her pale skin and blonde hair stood out in the darkness. She made herself into the smallest possible ball and backed farther beneath the thick leaves. She moved slowly, so as not to rustle the bushes or draw attention, edging under the foliage into the void.