Hurt

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “This isn’t the military. There aren’t any rules about fraternizing with your co-workers.”

  “I can’t just sleep with someone who might be running my missions.”

  “It might be the other way around. You know the commander wants you to take the lead more now that you’ve been promoted.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “You’re making this too complicated,” Rachel said. “It’s simple. Have some fun and see where things go.”

  “I’m not sure it will ever be that simple,” she murmured. “He does something to me. Makes me vulnerable in a way I’ve not been in a long time— God! That sounds so stupid.”

  “Yes.”

  Laila blinked at the short tone her friend’s voice had taken on. “Yes? Really? That’s where you’re taking this conversation?”

  “Shut up for a second.”

  There was a muffled conversation, then Rachel came back onto the line. “Turn around. Get your ass back to the warehouse. Ryker’s emergency beacon is on.”

  She reacted without thinking, just flipped a U-turn to the sound of squealing brakes and honking horns then sped back the direction she’d come.

  “For how long?” she barked. “Tracking?”

  “Less than a minute, and yes, I’ve got him. What’s your ETA?”

  Laila did the mental calculation. “Less than five minutes. Call the team. Have them ready and waiting.”

  “Shit,” Rachel snapped. “I just lost him.”

  Wrenching the wheel and careening around another corner, Laila grit her teeth. “Get the signal back, and alert the team. Call me if there are any changes.”

  She hung up and pressed the accelerator to the floor. This was her fault.

  Her fault.

  It took exactly four minutes and thirty-six seconds to arrive back at the warehouse. Laila slammed on the brakes, screeched to a halt in the exact spot she’d left less than a quarter-hour before.

  Pop the door. Hand on her gun. Phone in her pocket.

  The air was warm, scented with the thick, pungent smell of fish. The street was free of people.

  Or not.

  Laila whirled at the slight scuff of a shoe against the pavement; saw the hulking brute in a suit coming up behind her.

  And fell for the oldest trick in the book. Distraction.

  The other man came from her side. He grabbed her arms, tried to pin her.

  Laila fought. Kicked, hit, struggled. And almost got free.

  But the attackers had weight to their advantage. They took her to the ground, pinned her with their bulk.

  Then it was too late.

  A pinprick of pain dotted the side of her neck. A wave of dizziness made her knees tremble.

  Shit—

  The world went black.

  Sometime Saturday

  Unknown Location

  RYKER TENTATIVELY OPENED HIS EYES. Then immediately wished he hadn’t.

  His head pounded like a mother, and the brief glimpse had only brought him a sharp slice of pain with no awareness of his surroundings.

  He mentally took stock of his body.

  No broken limbs, just a general sense of dehydration and fatigue. The headache was the worst, but even that was fading, so whatever he’d been drugged with must have metabolized quickly.

  Once it felt as though his brain would survive it, Ryker slit his eyes again. It took one glimpse around to make him reach for his wrist, for the small emergency beacon that was implanted under the skin and could be activated by tapping a Morse-code-like sequence that was unique to him.

  The little burst of pain surprised him, and he looked down, struggled to comprehend what he was seeing.

  Stitches?

  He rolled to his knees and reached behind him to feel the small of his back, where his secondary GPS was located.

  Except it wasn’t there any longer.

  A curse burst from his lips. What the hell was going on? Only someone with close contact to KTS would know about the implanted devices. Further than that, only someone with direct access to KTS’s personnel files would be able to find out the location of each operative’s back-ups, since the spares had been placed in locations that were unique to the individual.

  But that was a problem for another moment.

  At the sound of his very favorite curse word, a shape he hadn’t noticed before in the shadowed corner of the room shifted.

  Clearing his mind only took a moment, and by then he was already on his feet, already moving silently toward the still figure.

  He crouched and reached a hand out to flip the person over, to see their face and determine their trustworthiness with his own eyes. But in one sharp, abrupt movement that knocked the wind out of him, he found himself on his back, a forearm pressed fiercely to his throat.

  Despite the circumstances, Ryker’s lips twitched. In the split second before he’d had his ass handed to him, he’d known.

  And good God, even coming out of drugs that had to be affecting her as much, if not more than him — because of her lighter weight — Laila was quick as a snake.

  Quicker than he, which is one of the reasons why he’d gotten his freaking panties in a bunch and had blown it with her all those years before.

  It was really not the time to be reminiscing, but with her on top of him, her pelvis pressing him in just the right place, it wasn’t really an option. Despite the circumstances, she smelled like flowers, and her hair was just the correct side of messy — sexy, bedhead rather than rat’s nest.

  “Ryker?” she asked and blinked. Pain shadowed her eyes, made lines appear along the corners of her mouth. Then she breathed out a sigh and wrapped her arms around him. “I was so worried…”

  The hug pressed her breasts firmly against his chest, made his mind drift away from her words to the sensations. His eyes slid closed, and he wrapped his arms around her in return, maybe a little too low for a friendly hug.

  But with Laila sprawled out atop him, reminding him how perfectly they fit, it was impossible to not grab her hips and bring her even closer.

  It wasn’t his fault. She was literally impossible for him to resist.

  She melted for a moment then, as though suddenly coming back into herself — or probably feeling the erection he had no hope of hiding — released him.

  “Really?” She sat back.

  He levered his elbows beneath himself and pushed up to sitting. “Wish I could say it was a one-off, but it’s a pretty common problem for me when you’re around.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she cocked her head, studying him intently. “You sure have a funny way of showing it,” she eventually said. “Ignoring me for five years.”

  It wasn’t that. He hadn’t ignored her. He’d admired her. Watched her grow.

  But how did he tell her that it wasn’t until he’d seen her get serious with the last jackwad who’d been her boyfriend, that he’d fully understood what he’d missed out on?

  Oh, he’d definitely felt guilty for the barbs at work, for initially treating her as though she was less than he — at least until she’d handed his ass to him in the training room in front of pretty much everyone from KTS.

  His guilt nowadays was more wrapped up in the way he’d brushed her off after they’d finally made it into the sack. The sex had been hot, intense as hell, and he’d run scared.

  But Ryker had run to avoid the potential of being tied down after their time together, not because he’d experienced something soul-deep.

  Shrugging off the voice in his mind that was saying something snotty about doth protest too much, he tried to organize his thoughts.

  He wanted her now. That was all there was to it. They didn’t need to overthink things, make what was between them more than it was.

  “Cosmo said to give you six months.”

  The words slipped out, unconscious, and he would have kicked his own ass if he could have reached it.

  Seriously?

  Laila’s eyes went wide, and Ryker chuckled
at his own expense. Her reaction was almost worth it. Almost.

  “You read Cosmo?”

  “What?” He glared at her. “No. I don’t read Cosmo.”

  “But—“

  “Rachel gave me some article titled ‘How not to be a Rebound’ after you broke up with Jerry Dickwad.” He didn’t tell her that the article was still in his nightstand back at headquarters because really, it was bad enough that he’d kept it, let alone that he’d checked off the items one by one.

  “Rach—“

  “So, Commander, any thoughts to where we are and how we’re going to get out of here?”

  Sometime Saturday

  Dirty-as-hell room, trapped with confusing-as-hell Ryker

  Laila blinked at Ryker’s question, calling herself an idiot in every language she spoke. Hugs and dry humping instead of using her training and instincts to devise a way out of the room?

  Seriously? WTF was wrong with her?

  She shoved back from Ryker and stood, barely keeping her feet. Her knees were rubber, her head hurt like a mother, and good God, her… well, her libido had no reason to be on red alert.

  Ryker followed suit, and together they took stock. The room was close to thirty-by-thirty feet with a row of large windows along the top of one wall. As they searched the perimeter — for cameras, weapons, exits — more light began pouring in, illuminating the once-dark room and making their movements easier.

  Assuming it was still Saturday, the additional sunlight meant they were facing the west, so that was something.

  There were doors on three walls, and they began to carefully check them one by one.

  “How long were we out?” she asked as they made their way to the first one.

  Ryker tried the handle and shook his head.

  The hinges weren’t on their side, so they couldn’t pop those and take the door off. It might come down to picking a lock, but she wouldn’t waste time with that now.

  They moved onto the next door.

  “If we’re assuming it was early morning when we were drugged, then according to the amount of light coming in the windows, I’d say it’s afternoon.”

  Laila nodded in agreement, tried the second door, and found it locked, the hinges in the same placement. Since they were closer to the windows than the third door, she asked, “Think you can lift me up that high?”

  “Worth a try.” He closed the distance between them and put his hands on her waist.

  Her breath hitched in response, a reaction they both ignored.

  “Ready?”

  “Just do it.”

  In a swift, smooth movement, he lifted her up and set both of her feet on one of his shoulders.

  “A little higher,” she said, grasping for the windowsill and trying to heft herself up enough to see out. “Right… there!”

  A breath of relief whooshed out of her. “We’re on the waterfront.” She could see the Ferry Building a few blocks away, and even some straggling tourists. “Or a couple of blocks from it.” She pressed at the window, found it wouldn’t budge.

  That wouldn’t be their way out anyway.

  Even if she managed to break the glass and haul herself out, she’d never be able to pull Ryker up. Not to mention the fall to the ground.

  Broken legs were awfully hard to run on.

  “Any time,” Ryker muttered with a grunt.

  “Oh!” Laila’s eyes flew down, met his slightly amused ones. He’d held her so steady that she’d almost forgotten she was a good six feet in the air. “You can put me down.”

  He reached up and grabbed her thighs then slowly let her slide to the ground. Her back brushed his chest as he lowered her, the sensation enough to alight her every nerve.

  Her pulse pounded by the time her feet connected with the concrete floor, but she ignored the annoying awareness she had of Ryker and concentrated on their surroundings.

  “Let’s try the last door,” she said.

  Laila hadn’t really expected it to be unlocked, but the knob turned beneath her fingers.

  “I’ll be damned,” Ryker murmured, and she knew what he was thinking. Because she was wondering the same thing.

  Who manages to have enough skill to kidnap two KTS agents but leaves them unrestrained and in an unlocked room?

  She smelled a trap and didn’t like it. But this was their best way out, and she could at least take a peek.

  Quietly, with Ryker at her back, she pushed open the door a few inches.

  That was enough for her to see at least one guard stationed right outside.

  Silently, she pulled the door closed, gestured to Ryker to retreat a few paces. It was time to stop screwing around. She’d activate the emergency beacon and—

  Except when her fingers found fabric covering her wrist, she glanced down. What? She tore away the covering, and, aghast, her eyes flew to Ryker’s.

  Someone had cut out her tracking device?

  It was impossible that anyone would even know about it, but it was also the only explanation for the row of neat stitches bisecting the skin of her arm.

  She tore at the waist of her jeans, yanked them down.

  “Laila?” Ryker asked.

  Ignoring him, she continued her efforts and felt a wave of disquiet soak into her at the sight of another bandage covering her outer hipbone.

  Her secondary device was gone as well.

  “Yours?” she asked Ryker and refastened her pants.

  “Gone.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yup.” He hesitated, and her eyes locked with his, saw the truth in their depths. “You know what this means, right?”

  Laila nodded. “FUBAR.” This mission was definitely fucked up beyond all recognition.

  His lips twitched and he nodded. “No argument there, but I was thinking about the fact that someone seems to have confidential information about KTS.”

  Sighing, she gave a frustrated tug on her ponytail. “Who? Who could have leaked information? Who would have betrayed us?” She put her hand up when Ryker would have spoken. “Sorry. I know this isn’t the time. Step one, let’s get the hell out of here.”

  They separated, studying the opposite sides of the room. The construction was straightforward for a warehouse — steel framing and sheetrock on only one side of the walls.

  A plan began to form in her brain.

  “Ryk,” she said.

  He was at her side in an instant, and grinned when she explained what she had in mind.

  “Let’s see if we can’t get to the bottom of this.”

  Saturday afternoon

  Warehouse

  RYKER HELD HIS BREATH AS HE squeezed through the hole in the sheetrock that he’d made on the far side of the room.

  They’d already scouted both adjacent rooms, knew they were identical to the space they’d been held. Four walls, three doors, two locked. One, on the same wall as theirs, unlocked.

  He counted deliberately in his head, knowing that Laila was doing the same, slipping from where they’d been held, silently making her way to the unlocked door in her neighboring room.

  Thirty-one, thirty-two…

  His footsteps were inaudible as he crossed the space. He waited in place for the remaining twenty-eight seconds then reached for the knob, turned it, and pushed the door open. He glided undetected into the corridor.

  It took precisely two heartbeats for him to assess the threats and exit routes. Six guards, all sitting in folding chairs, all not paying nearly enough attention for having the task of guarding two KTS agents.

  Laila was a shadow, completely invisible except to Ryker, and then he only spotted her because he knew exactly where to look.

  He waited, wondered if she would change her mind. They’d argued about who would be the diversion, and in the end, Ryker had won out by stating the truth.

  She was better at hand to hand — more controlled, more efficient at taking down the enemy. It was simple as that. Ryker was good at… well, pissing people off. So he’d be the talk, and
she’d do the work.

  After a moment of hesitation, she nodded.

  It took a bit of effort to smother his grin. Adrenaline was pumping through his body, amping him up. He was itching for a fight.

  Hopefully, Laila would be slower than he expected, and he’d get one.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, casually leaning against one wall, “thanks so much for the place to sleep, but we’ll be going now.”

  In almost comical fashion, the men flew to their feet. Orders were shouted; chairs tumbled backward.

  Ryker didn’t pay attention to any of that.

  He pushed off the wall and knocked the first man to the ground before the guard even had a chance to pull his gun.

  The next was a little tougher, requiring a few defensive maneuvers. He’d just pulled his fist back to punch the son of a bitch in the face when a pair of small hands wrapped around the guard’s throat and squeezed precisely.

  The guard’s eyes rolled backward as Laila hit on a pressure point, and he went down like a sack of bricks.

  She stepped back lithely then bent and snatched the gun. After tossing it to him, she pulled another gun out of the waistband of her jeans. “Grab that one, and let’s get out of here.”

  Laila led the way, choosing turns she thought would lead them from the warehouse, based on her peek out of the windows earlier.

  It was funny, Ryker thought, that he was content with someone else leading, that he trusted so completely in Laila’s abilities. It was something he had difficulty with in general — even with the male operatives.

  But they worked well as a team, and when they got the hell out of the warehouse and back to command, he’d tell her that.

  He smiled at the thought of her reaction to him telling her anything… when he felt it.

  A tingle. The hairs on his nape rising.

  His mouth opened, ready to warn Laila. But she’d already stopped, and her gaze was searching side to side.

  They both spotted the door at the same time, and he followed her through. After a quick perusal to assure him there were no enemies in there with them, no one to sneak up while their attention was focused elsewhere, Ryker leaned close to Laila and pressed his ear to the wall.