Eli jumped up from the bed as footfalls, like that of someone running, came from outside the bedroom door. He stood with his back against the wall beside the door, grabbing the only thing that was close to him—a small bedside table.
The door flew open, smashing against the wall. There was a barrel of a gun, pointing directly at Zoey. Before he could even think, Eli swung the table. It hit with a crack and smattering of splintered wood as it connected with the beanie man’s face.
He dropped to the ground with a yelp of pain. Blood poured from a gash near his eye. Though the table was in pieces, Eli swung again, hitting the man in the back of the head over and over until all Eli was holding were two broken legs and the beanie the man had been wearing was coated with blood.
Zoey ran over and picked up the man’s gun. With a click, she checked to make sure it was loaded. “Let’s go,” she said, motioning for Shaye to follow them.
Eli took the lead and they rushed down the hall. A second man, tall and muscular, stepped out of the living room. He looked frazzled, like he was running from something and had no idea he was about to come upon them.
As he spotted Eli, he drew his weapon. But before Eli could react, a shot rippled through the air.
It whizzed toward him, striking him at full force in the chest. He looked down where the bullet had hit him. Blood seeped through the blue fabric, and he struggled to breathe, but the bullet hadn’t penetrated through the shirt.
“Dang. That’s going to leave a mark,” he said, wheezing.
There was the boom of another shot. Eli looked up just in time to see the man who had shot him crumple to his knees. He looked surprised as his body thumped forward, his face hitting the floor.
In all the years Eli and Zoey had been together, he had never seen her pull the trigger. As he looked over at her, she stood calm, still aiming the gun at the fallen man.
She had just killed a guy, at close range, for him. If that wasn’t love, he didn’t know what was.
He gently pulled the gun from her hands, and she didn’t fight it. “Thank you, Zoey. I’ve got it from here.”
From the voices they had heard, there had to be at least one more man in the apartment. They had to kill him.
He quietly cleared the rooms they passed before getting to the man Zoey had shot. Blood had started to pool around his head.
He was surprised the third man hadn’t come to check things out after the sound of the gunshots. If Eli had been leading this team of operatives, he would’ve been on that.
Something was up. This was out of character and training.
Maybe the third man had bugged out. Nothing would surprise him now that he knew the true nature of his employer—or rather, former employer.
He stepped over the dead man and into the living room. The television was off and it was eerily quiet in the room.
There was a man was sitting in a chair in the corner. Saliva was dripping down from his mouth and there was a long, oozing laceration around his throat indicative of strangulation. His face was a bit swollen and languid, but Eli recognized him.
Frogger.
He looked away from his friend’s body.
His going rogue had cost Frogger his life.
Fury raced through him. His former bosses would pay. One way or another, he would never let them get away with coming after them.
“Brother,” Eli said, his voice barely above a whisper as he genuflected out of respect for his fallen comrade.
“Brother? Is this what you Watch Dogs do to your brothers?” Stepping out of the shadows behind Frogger was Chad. “I hate to imagine what you’ve done to my sister.”
Of course, he would think he was still working for Watch Dogs, and therefore an enemy. Eli dropped his gun and put his hands up. “No, man. I would never hurt Zoey. I love her.”
As Zoey stepped into the room, Chad spotted her. “Zoey? I’m so glad you’re okay,” Chad sighed with relief. “You are okay, aren’t you?” He nudged his chin in Eli’s direction like a protective father.
“I’m fine,” Zoey said, looking over at Eli. “In fact, if we get out of here alive, we will be even more than fine.”
Eli couldn’t control the wide grin that took over his face. Was that her way of saying she still wanted to marry him? Damn, he hoped so. He wanted to spend every minute of every single day with her...the woman who had saved his life.
Eli gave him a nod. “It’s okay, Chad. We were here to rescue you.”
Chad chuckled as he stepped around the dead man and stripped off his leather gloves. “And yet, here I am saving you.”
“This fight isn’t over yet,” Eli said, picking up his gun.
“The place should be clear.” Chad walked over and took the gun from him. “I was hoping this would prove useful in case of emergencies.” He pointed to a small indentation in the gun’s handle.
“Is that our gun? The one with the GPS?” Zoey asked, reaching for it. Chad gave it back to her.
“It was how I tracked the crew after me. I left it behind when Shaye and I bugged out. I knew that they had our location and I was hoping to use it to find whoever was tracking me.”
“So, you knew that there was money on your head?” Eli asked.
Chad nodded. “Yeah, sucks to know I’m worth a hell of a lot more dead than I am alive. I was half tempted to stage my own death and cash in on the bounty.”
Zoey smirked as she glanced in Eli’s direction, then to Chad. “Why don’t you? We could give the money to Shaye. It seems only right, and it would be kinda perfect if her father paid for his sins.”
“Actually, that was what the wire transfer was for. I knew you’d be okay with me helping out my friend’s family. Raj’s parents lost everything, their business, their son and any chance they had of survival, all thanks to the prime minister.” Chad sighed. “I will pay the company back. It was just the only place I knew I could pull a large sum of coded money and also let you know that I was alive.”
Zoey nodded. “Don’t worry about the company’s money. Right now, I think we have a death to stage. That is, if you’re in.”
“I’m in. Raj’s family and Shaye...they are going to need help getting on their feet,” Chad said, walking over and taking Shaye’s hand. “What do you say? Want to make your father give something back for all that he’s taken from you?”
Shaye’s eyes welled up with tears. “I... You guys... You be careful when dealing with my father.”
“We will be. And you will get what you deserve for everything your father has put you through.” Chad put his arm over her shoulder and hugged her tight to him. “One thing about us Martins, we believe in picking the right side—the side of justice—especially when that involves taking out the bastards who wish to hurt the people we love.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
It didn’t take a hell of a lot of work to get a little DNA evidence and “prove” that Chad had been taken out by a contract killer.
The money was in their bank account the very next day when they arrived back at the Widow Maker Ranch. Hopefully their home would be safe now that the hit had been closed on Chad’s head, but they were hardly out of the woods. If Zoey had done everything right, Bayural was probably looking for them somewhere in the middle of Norway right now and anyone who had been tracking Chad was off the scent.
Only time would tell.
She sat back on the velvet sofa and looked over the top of her computer at Eli. He was staring at her, making her wonder if it was the feel of his gaze that had made her look up in the first place.
“You gonna stare at me all day?” she asked with a smile.
“If I get my way, I sure as hell will,” he said. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure that everything is clear. Just made it look like Shaye was taking a flight out of Sitges headed to Paris. She is going to send her father a
letter ceding from the family.” She made a long face. “It’s going to be harder for her than she anticipates, I think. She’s gone through a lot.”
“I know. But she is a strong woman, kind of like you.” Eli stood up and walked over. She gently pushed her computer closed and moved it off her lap. Then he extended his hand. “Will you do me the honor?”
She slipped her hand into his and he helped her to her feet. “Where are we going? Am I going to need to grab my jacket?”
He laughed, giving her a soft smile. “That’s not what I meant.”
She stopped. He wasn’t going to do what she thought he was going to do, was he? Her entire body clenched with anticipation.
He dropped to one knee. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a red velvet box. “I had this made especially for you a long time ago. I’ve kept it with me ever since. Just like you, it’s one of a kind.”
He opened up the ring box. Inside was a simple platinum band with a sapphire set into its center.
He must have been carrying it for her for some time. The thought melted her. Even when she was adrift, he had loved her. And she had loved him.
“Will you marry me?”
“I love you, Eli. I love you so much. I’ll love you until I take my last breath.”
“Is that a yes?” he asked, looking up at her.
“A deal is a deal,” she said, giving him a playful smile. “We got out of there alive. I mean...thanks to me, but...yes, I will marry you.”
As he moved to stand up, she stopped him and put her hand over her mouth. “Wait.”
“What, honey?” he asked, taking her hands from her face and holding them. “What’s wrong?”
“What about trying again...you know...for a family?” She wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say. And she wasn’t sure she was ready to go down that road once again.
He stood up and wrapped his arms around her. “For now, all I want is for you to be my forever. I am yours and you are mine,” he whispered into her hair. “If someday it happens, then yes...and if we choose not to, then no. But no matter what life brings, I just want us to face it together.”
Together. There was no sweeter word. Or perhaps there was one—forever.
* * *
Look for Protective Operation,
the next book in the Stealth series
by Danica Winters,
available March 2020 wherever
Harlequin Intrigue books
and ebooks are sold.
Keep Reading for an excerpt from The Final Secret by Cassie Miles.
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The Final Secret
by Cassie Miles
Chapter One
Her mission was clear: rescue the hostage.
Gennie Fox wasn’t exactly sure how she’d accomplish the task but needed to act fast. According to her information, her backup was due to arrive in less than fifteen minutes, but she shouldn’t count on them. Her background info indicated that they couldn’t be trusted. She needed to rescue the asset before anybody else showed up. And the clock was ticking down.
She made her approach, creeping through the forested hillside outside an isolated two-story mountain cabin with a cedar deck jutting from the south end. Late afternoon sunlight glistened on patches of spring snow that had mostly melted and left the ground muddy. With her back pressed against the rough trunk of a Ponderosa pine, she observed. Two armed guards patrolled the perimeter of the property. She suspected there were others inside.
If she’d had access to a heat-sensing scanner, she would have known whether the hostage was being held upstairs or on the lower level. The scanner wasn’t her only lack. She had no binoculars, no auditory surveillance devices and her assault gear left much to be desired. The eight-inch double-edged blade in a sheath attached to her belt was good for silent combat, but the handgun she’d been given was clumsy and untrustworthy. Gennie preferred a fifteen-round Beretta similar to the weapon she’d carried on patrol in Afghanistan.
Her unpreparedness extended to her clothing. She’d expected to be meeting for brunch at a trendy spot in the Highlands area of Denver and had dressed in a black leather jacket, olive green silk blouse, black slacks and lace-up sandals with two-inch heels. For this one-woman assault, she should have been wearing head-to-toe camo and steel-toed Dr. Martens.
When one of the guards peered in her direction, her adrenaline spiked. She ducked behind the tree, hoping that her black outfit would blend into the shadows. Her blond hair was covered by a green patterned scarf, and she’d turned up her collar to hide her face. Only her blue eyes stood out. She squinted and watched as the guard turned his head and moved away.
For the moment, she was safe. But she couldn’t just stand here, waiting to be caught. She’d signed on to play this game, and she intended to win.
Holding the gun in her left hand, she drew her knife with the right. Mentally, she mapped her route to the house. Guards had been coming and going on the deck, which meant the sliding glass doors probably weren’t locked. But the approach to that entrance offered little cover, and she wanted to stay hidden as long as possible. Bent over, she dashed from the forested area toward a clump of trees nearer to the front door.
Halfway, her sandals skidded on the mud, and she sprawled. Her quick reflexes compensated for her clumsiness. She sprang into a crouch, froze like a statue and checked to make sure the guards hadn’t seen her. Then she ran. Her left ankle stiffened. She was injured. No time to worry about it now.
At the house she peeked through a window beside the front door, didn’t see a guard. The door was locked, which was what she’d expected. She had a lock pick attached to her key chain and knew how to use it. In mere seconds, the doorknob twisted easily in her hand.
Inside the entryway she scoped out the spacious room with a natural stone fireplace at one end, a hall leading in the direction of the deck on the other and a staircase directly across from the entry. A guard appeared in the doorway from the hall. He looked surprised to see her, and she took advantage. Before he could raise his weapon, she pounced and slashed her blade across his throat. He fell. Take his rifle? She decided against it. Her handgun was better for fighting in close quarters.
Killing the guard had been necessary. He’d been in the way, and she needed to succeed in this mission. Upstairs or down? Trusting her instincts, she rushed to the staircase and ascended to the second floor where she expected to find bedrooms. The upstairs would be easier to defend than what she assumed was a more open floorplan on the lower level.
Directly across from the landing, she confronted a closed door. Was the hostage being held in that room? The other doors on both sides of the long corridor stood open with the exception of the door at the very end.
At the closed door, she pressed her ear against the wood and listened. From inside, she heard a drawer being closed, then a shuffling noise and the thud of heavy boots walking across the floor. Coming closer to her? She jumped back as the door swung open. A guy in a guard uniform raised his arm at right angles to his body and fired at her. He missed. Her aim was more accurate. Two direct hits. The center of his chest turned bright red. He crumpled to the floor.
The gunshots had alerted the other guards. From downstairs, she heard their shouts. Her best guess for the location of the hostage was the closed door at the end of the hall. As she sprinted toward it, a red-haired maid in a pink smock stepped through one of the open doors, holding a stack of folded linens. She gave a shriek and threw up her hands. No weapon. Not a threat. Gennie pushed her back and told her to take cover.
At the closed door, she tried the handle. Locked! No time
for finesse, she crashed through, using her shoulder as a battering ram. Tomorrow, she’d have a bruise, but the injury was worth it if she completed her mission. She pushed the door closed behind her. After slipping her knife into the sheath, she held her gun with both hands for stability as she scanned the large room—a well-equipped home gym with a wall of windows and a wide balcony.
A tall lean man wearing knee-length shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt jogged on a treadmill, moving in time to music that must have been playing on his wireless headphones. His back was toward her. When he turned his head, she recognized his profile.
Without lowering her handgun, she approached. “Noah Sheridan.”
With a glance in her direction, he stepped off the treadmill, removed his headphones and rubbed his hand across his close-cropped dark brown hair. “Good timing, Captain Genevieve Fox. The van carrying your backup is pulling into the driveway.”
She braced herself, expecting a twist at the last minute. “Are you the hostage?”
“Who else would I be?”
He came toward her with his hand extended as though to offer congratulations. But he hadn’t followed the script. The information she’d been given stated that the hostage would introduce him or herself by saying, Take my hand and set me free.
Waiting for him to say those code words, she hesitated. Big mistake! He made the first move. A chop on her wrist, and she dropped her handgun. Before she could pull her knife from the sheath, he spun her around and swept her legs out from under her.
He could have ended her mission then and there. Her gun was within his grasp. His dark eyes blazed with excitement. She could tell that he wanted a fight, wanted to show her who was the boss. Not going to happen. Sure, he had the physical advantage. But she had the intense determination of ten combat-ready soldiers.
The door whipped open. The other guards arrived.
“Back off,” Noah shouted to them. “I’ve got this.”
Her Assassin For Hire (Stealth Series Book 3) Page 18