by Sybil Bartel
“Put that on,” he ordered, slipping a version of what he’d given me over his head.
I held the article up and my hands started to shake. “A bulletproof vest?” He’d said we were safe in here.
“Precautionary.” His tone and movements all business, he tightened the Velcro straps around his chest as he eyed the monitors.
My gaze followed his and I sucked in a sharp breath.
One of the men was looking directly into one of the cameras. As we both watched, he held his gloved finger and thumb up, making the universal gesture for firing a gun, then he smiled.
My blood ran cold.
“Shade.” I couldn’t say his real name. Not now, not here. Besides, I wasn’t even looking at the man who told me in Italian his name was Sebastiano Hades Domani. I was looking at the warrior named Shade who shot without mercy and drove an SUV over a cliff and didn’t hesitate when a sniper shot into his bedroom. “Please. Call André. Or wait until the other guys get here. Don’t go out there.”
He took a gun off the shelf and checked the magazine before fitting it into a holster he’d strapped on. “Let me do my job, woman.” He grabbed a bunch of extra clips and shoved then into his vest.
My spine stiffened. “So, I’m a job now?”
His expression deadly, he spared me a single glance. “I’m not waiting for backup. The one advantage I have is that they don’t know where I am, but my window to get a jump on them is closing by the second. I’m not going to stand here and hold your hand while you have a fucking meltdown over semantics. I’m gonna do my goddamn job.” His eyes narrowed in warning. “Do not follow me.” Grabbing a cell phone off the shelf, he slammed it on the desk in front of me. “If I’m not back in thirty minutes, call Luna. Tell him we had a breach. Then wait for him or Ronan to come get you. There’s water and MREs. I don’t care how long it takes, do not leave this room and do not open the hatch for anyone except me, Luna or Ronan.”
Fear swept up my body in a rush. Like a drowning tide, it rose to my head and licked at my sanity as tears welled. “Hatch?”
He nodded toward the floor. “When I come back, I’ll knock in a one-three-two pattern.” His hand fisted, and he knocked on the desk to demonstrate. “You don’t hear that sequence, don’t open the fucking door. Period.” He grabbed a white parka off the shelf and shoved his arms in.
Choking on anxiety, panic seeped out. “What if they kill you?”
Grabbing more ammo and a huge rifle, he snorted. “I’m a Marine, woman.”
That didn’t make him invincible, but I didn’t say that. I was too scared. “What if André or Ronan never come?”
“They will.” He shouldered the strap on the rifle.
I didn’t want him going out there, no matter how many guns he had. “How will they know the knock pattern?”
“We all know it.” He grabbed a white beanie and black gloves and put them on as he watched the monitors.
Images of the men jumped from screen to screen as they moved through the cabin, searching every room.
“Please,” I begged, grabbing Shade’s arm as he reached for a rectangular cutout in the floor. “Don’t do this.”
“The hatch will lock after me.” Ignoring my plea, he pocketed the cell phone off the desk he’d messed with earlier. Then he lifted the door and a burst of frigid air rushed into the small room, stealing all the heat. Dropping into the hole that looked like it opened directly into a crawl space under the cabin, he stood in the waist high space and grabbed the edge of the hatch. “One-three-two. Don’t forget.” His intense gaze pierced me. “This is my job.” Dropping his voice to a low and threatening growl, he held his rifle. “It’s also personal.”
He disappeared into the crawl space and the hatch door slammed shut.
HER WORDS ECHOED IN MY head on repeat as her expression haunted me.
So, I’m a job now?
This whole fucking mess was my doing, but somewhere along the way shit went FUBAR and now it was exactly as I told her. Personal. I didn’t know when it’d first happened—the kiss on the side of the highway, hell, the look in her eyes when I pulled up in front of that rehab, but this woman had gotten under my skin. Then I’d fucked her.
Fucking hell, that cunt.
My dick got hard just thinking about sinking inside her, which only made me an even bigger asshole as I stood here with her blood on my hands.
But goddamn this woman was in my head. Vulnerable and not ashamed to show it. Bold as fuck when it counted. Summer Amherst was a hell of a lot more than all the zeroes she probably had in her trust fund, and I wasn’t finished with her. But that didn’t change the fact that I had a job to do.
Protect her.
Get her off this mountain in one piece, no matter what the fuck happened to me.
I’d never given a shit about dying, we all went some time. But now that I knew what the woman inside my cabin tasted like, I wanted more. I wanted it bad enough that I gave a shit about getting back to her, and that was a dangerous slope for someone in my line of work. Giving a shit made you hesitate. Hesitation got you killed.
I wasn’t going to fuck with Luna or his company’s reputation by losing a client, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let those two fucks walk off this mountain. But more than anything, I was going to protect what I had upstairs.
No one fucked with me or my property.
Dropping under the crawl space, I pulled out the cell I’d synced with the cameras and glanced at the screen.
Those fucks didn’t know what was coming.
I shot off a text to Ronan. ETA?
He replied almost immediately. 30 mins. Luna says you have a breach. Two guns inside the cabin.
She’d fucking called Luna already.
I typed a quick reply to Ronan. Window closing, not waiting 30 mins.
Ronan replied. Copy. Harm MIA. Candle should’ve been there by now. OMW.
Moving under the house, I glanced once more at the security feeds and positioned myself.
Double checking the screen on the cell, I aimed my rifle at the foundation above me.
“You fuck with me, motherfuckers, I fuck back.”
I pulled the trigger.
Three rounds pierced the foundation and wood floor I’d laid myself. Asshole number one dropped, the weight of his body hitting the living room floor with a muted thud. Three seconds later, rounds started raining down into the crawl space.
I was already on the move.
Rolling out from under the cabin, I landed on my back in the snow and aimed up at the front windows.
The second fuck in my living room caught my movement and trained his scope on me. His laser dot hit my chest and I smirked.
“Go ahead, you amateur fuck,” I muttered, sighting my rifle. “Pull the trigger.”
His shot pierced my glass slider the same time I rolled.
Going to one knee as the bullet whizzed past my head and hit a tree, I held up my middle finger. Then I single-handedly aimed and fired.
My shot hit him in the middle of his forehead, his head snapped back and he dropped.
Cursing the fucking mess the bodies would make in my cabin, I stood and pulled my cell out. The call went through just as an unnatural, but unmistakable wind whipped past my head.
Motherfucker.
I dropped and rolled back under the cabin as another shot plunked into a nearby tree.
Both hands on my rifle, my cell forgotten, I scanned with my scope.
“Approaching on foot.” Ronan’s voice came from my phone now buried somewhere in the snow. “Your access road is blocked by four vehicles parked halfway up. All empty.”
Scanning the treeline, I blindly reached for the cell.
A shot landed a foot from my hand, making a hole in the snow.
Goddamn it.
“Shade?” Ronan asked.
I scanned again as another shot hit the deck above me.
“Yeah,” I called out to Ronan. Where the hell was the asshole plucking of
f shots? “Hold on.” I fired blindly then quickly reached for my cell. Bringing the damn thing to my ear, I made another sweep, looking through the scope. “I took out two in the cabin, but I’m still taking fire.”
“Almost there. Half a klick. Several tracks in the snow, but it’s coming down so fast, I can’t tell how many we’re dealing with.”
Another shot pinged off the deck, but this one was closer to me.
I inched back a foot into the crawl space. “Hopefully two of those vehicles are Candle and Harm.” I sighted left. “Those fuckers better show soon if they want in on the action.”
“Luna’s running plates.” Ronan dropped his voice. “Position? Going radio silent.”
Two more shots rang out in rapid succession. One hit a foot above my head, the other sailed past me to my right.
I glanced over my shoulder then looked back at the snow-covered trees, following the line of fire through my scope as I answered Ronan. “I’m under the cabin taking fire like a fucking sitting duck.” I scanned right again. “I’ve got two shooters, or one asshole moving faster than a goddamn deer. I can’t see shit through the snow.” Where the hell were the shots coming from?
“Copy that. Two minutes.” Ronan hung up and my cell immediately rang again.
“I don’t have time for this, Conlon.” Movement in the treeline two klicks south caught my attention and I swept left.
“Shade,” Summer screeched in a panic. “I can see them on the screens! They’re moving in on you! Hurry, get out of there!”
Motherfucker. “Did Luna give you this number?” I was going to fucking shoot him next time I saw him.
“I had to call him because you didn’t leave me the number.” Her voice pitched higher. “Oh my God, there’re coming up on you! To the right, to the right.”
I swept far right and spotted movement. “Listen to me, princess.” I sighted. “Hang up the phone and look away from the screens. Remember what I told you. One-three-two.” Distance, wind, altitude, snowfall—I calculated. “Now, woman.” Not bothering to hang up, I dropped the phone and exhaled.
“Shade!” Summer cried out.
The fucker sighted me the same time I sighted him.
I pulled the trigger.
OH MY GOD. “SHADE!”
A cacophony of gunfire exploded from both the cell phone and the monitors on the desk.
No, no, NO.
More gunfire erupted from under the deck as quick bursts of fire blinked all over the screens like fireworks going off.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God.” My hand shaking like mad, I grabbed another burner cell phone from the pile on the shelf and turned it on. “Get out of there, Shade,” I yelled into the call that was still connected. “Come back up here!”
The second cell took its time powering up.
“Come on, come on, hurry up, you stupid fucking phone.”
It finally came to life and I dialed a number I knew by heart for the second time in ten minutes.
André answered on the first ring. “Luna.”
“You have to get help up here fast! They’re shooting at Shade now!”
“Summer,” André barked my name like an order. “Take a breath. Shade knows what he’s doing. Conlon is on site, as well as two other men. Stay where you are. Let them do their job. Do not go out there, you hear me?”
“Oh my God.” I watched the screens in horror. “There are six of those little heat signatures closing in on where Shade is. They’re going to kill him!”
“Chica,” André snapped.
André Luna called me Miss Amherst. Occasionally Summer. But never in all the years that I’d known him had he called me chica.
My eyes glued to the screen, I took a breath.
Then I knew what I had to do.
“If you’re not going to help him, I will.” Before André could yell at me, I hung up.
The phone rang again almost immediately, but I shut it off. Riffling through the supplies on the shelves, I grabbed a parka and gloves and eyed one of the smaller guns. Shoving my arms into the too-big jacket and hastily putting on the gloves, I reached for the gun. The weight shocking, my covered hands fumbled and the heavy piece of metal almost fell out of my grasp.
Not even knowing if it was loaded, I carefully set the gun back down and cursed an absentee father who never taught me how to shoot a gun, let alone ride a bike or tie my shoes. Scared of a stupid piece of metal, but more scared for Shade as shots kept ringing out, I forced myself to pick it up again.
Then I gingerly fed it into the pocket of the parka.
The cold weather jacket suddenly feeling a hundred pounds heavier, I zipped the opening up so the gun didn’t fall out. Glancing over all the clips or magazines or whatever the hell they were called, I picked two that looked like they fit in the handle of the gun I had and hurriedly stashed them in my other pocket.
Zipping the parka up to my chin, I reached for the handle of the trap door and pulled.
Grunting, I lifted the stupid thing that weighed almost as much as me, but as I got the hatch halfway up, a fresh burst of gunfire erupted, echoing into the safe room.
Flinching, I dropped the door.
It slammed shut with such a heavy force, the entire floor shook, rattling my already frayed nerves. Belatedly realizing I needed something to keep the door open so I could get back in, I glanced at the shelves full of commando shit. There was only one thing that looked strong enough not to break under the weight of the hatch.
I grabbed another gun.
Positioning myself, I inhaled. “Okay you stupid door, don’t slam shut again and take off my fingers.”
I hoisted the hatch, glanced down into the hole and said a silent prayer.
Then, using my back against the underside of the door to keep it from slamming down on me, I half shimmied, half dropped into the freezing cold crawl space. My feel dangled, not hitting solid ground, and I regretted everything.
All the drugs, all the parties, all the times I was a shit to my stepmother.
But the one thing I didn’t regret was kissing a bodyguard.
Or sleeping with him.
A shiver that had nothing to do with the bitter cold and everything to do with the memory of his body inside mine raced up my spine and heat flamed my cheeks.
Three more shots rang out in rapid succession.
I jerked and one of my Ugg covered feet hit solid ground.
Shaking, scared out of my mind, but more determined than I’d ever been, I lowered myself into the crawl space and brought the hatch almost all the way closed. Carefully placing the second gun so the barrel would keep the door from closing all the way, I inched down. The full weight of the hatch landed on the gun and held.
I turned and looked around me at the almost pitch darkness.
Oh God.
“Shade,” I whispered, my eyes barely adjusting.
A single shot rang out followed by a curse.
I dropped to a crawl and aimed toward it.
THE SHOTS RINGING OUT CHANGED from long range rifle firepower to a fucking handgun.
My neck burning, pissed the hell off, I unloaded the last of my ammo from my M4 as shouting erupted from the side of the house.
“Who the fuck are you shooting at, motherfucker?” Candle yelled as five more shots rang out. “They’re dead!”
“Shade,” Summer called in a panic.
I whipped my head around.
At the back of the crawl space, under a sliver of light from the propped open hatch, Summer half crouched, half crawled toward me in one of my emergency parkas.
Rage hit as I heard crunching snow and caught movement in front of the cabin out of the corner of my eye.
Summer gasped.
Reacting on instinct, my hand closed over my Glock and I drew, aiming before I turned.
One hand on his rifle, outfitted in all black, Ronan held his other hand up. “All clear.”
Candle appeared behind him in a down vest and beanie. “You called me up her
e for this shit? Two fucking pussies in arctic gear that can’t shoot for shit? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I holstered my Glock and stepped out from under the deck as Summer came up beside me.
“Four,” Ronan corrected. “Two bodies are in the cabin.”
“Oh my God,” Summer whispered, pulling my jacket away from my neck. “You’re bleeding.”
“I’m fine.” Catching her wrist, I dropped her hand. “Leave it.”
Ronan’s gaze cut to my neck as Candle shook his head.
“They’re still fucking pussies.” Candle shoved his gun in his back waistband. “Lose my fucking number next time.”
“I wouldn’t have called them pussies per se.”
Me, Candle, and Ronan all drew, aiming at the new voice.
“Whoa, gentlemen.” Massimo Vincenzo, in a fucking leather jacket, slacks and boots held his hands up as he came around the side of the cabin. “You already shot two of my best men. My last two guards are in the SUV halfway down the road. I’m unarmed.”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demanded, pissed that I hadn’t heard his footsteps over the sound of the generator.
Massimo looked past me to Summer and smiled. “Thought I’d come up and see what’s gotten my brother in such an uproar.” Lowering his hands, he nodded at Summer. “And here I thought it’d be his wife.” He smiled salaciously. “Hello, Leo Amherst’s daughter.”
The unmistakable sound of a pump action shotgun readying a round echoed behind Vincenzo.
“Christ,” Candle muttered. “Who the fuck is this?”
“Harm,” Ronan answered. “Meet Candle.”
Harm tipped his chin at Candle then eyed me. “You good?”
“Yeah. You?” Fucker looked like a walking advertisement for mountain life in a plaid jacket with his long hair and full beard.
“Fine. He good?” Harm glanced at Vincenzo.
I nodded.
Harm lowered his shotgun.
Vincenzo rubbed his gloved hands together. “All right, now that the party’s over. I think we can all agree it’s too cold out here for a meet and greet. Feel free to do what you want with the corpses. I have no use for them.” He eyed me. “I’ll make sure to tell my brother your firepower was no match for his hired guns. That should solve your little problem.” He winked. “And don’t worry, I can be persuasive where Antonio’s concerned.” He turned to leave.