Explosive Vengeance

by Kaylea Cross

  “Come up here,” he murmured, pulling her upward to gather her close. He cradled her cheek to his chest, his heavy arms wrapped around her shoulders, one big hand on the back of her head. He kissed her hair, ran his fingers through it in a slow, gentle rhythm that almost hypnotized her.

  Chloe squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the strange new feelings bubbling up inside her. Him holding her felt good. Safe.

  Right.

  She shoved that scary thought aside, focused instead on the beat of his heart as it slowed to normal beneath her cheek. His scent and the warmth of his skin. The protective, almost cherishing way he cradled her.

  Her heart hitched, a painful ache twisting beneath her ribs. Dammit, she shouldn’t have done this. Shouldn’t have allowed herself to feel so much. It only made her wish for things she couldn’t have.

  She started to pull away but he made a sound of protest in the back of his throat and tightened his hold. “Stay,” he whispered against her hair.

  In that moment, she, lethal assassin that she was, was helpless to fight the invisible pull he exerted on her.

  Laying her cheek on his chest once more, she allowed her body to relax fully while he held her. She listened to his heartbeat, the way his breathing deepened and slowed. He twitched slightly in his sleep, woke and gathered her even closer with a contented groan that made her whole chest ache.

  She waited until he was deep under before slowly easing away, inch by inch so she didn’t wake him. She even paused by the side of the bed to study him, drinking in the strong lines of his profile.

  Soundlessly she gathered her bag and crept to the adjoining room to change into a different disguise. Making sure he was still asleep, she snuck out of the room and walked out into the brisk night air. A light drizzle fell, the city blanketed by a shroud of fog.

  She zipped her jacket all the way to her chin and set off for the harbor once more. Crews were still operating the cranes and other machinery, loading and unloading the ships. She took everything in, staying vigilant to her surroundings and on alert for any threats.

  When daylight broke, she had wandered to the far southern end of the city. Her phone buzzed. A message from Heath.

  Where are you?

  Again with that hitching sensation in her chest. Normally she would have ignored the message, but it didn’t feel right after what they’d shared, and he was sticking around to help her and Fleur. Getting the lay of the land.

  You okay? he asked a few moments later.

  Yes. See you later, she typed, ending the conversation. It wasn’t uncommon for her to go without sleep, or to do more recon in the middle of the night. But it had never happened because she needed space from a man she was developing feelings for, or because she wanted an excuse to avoid him for a while.

  Somehow Heath was already under her skin, and he threatened to burrow even deeper the longer she was in his company.

  She hadn’t realized men like him existed in the real world, but she needed to get her emotional shields back in place before she saw him again. He tempted her like no one else ever had, made her want things that were impossible. She wasn’t “normal” and never would be, and he was leaving soon anyway. Better to deal with that now so she could simply enjoy whatever time between them remained.

  But she couldn’t afford any more distractions until this op was over.

  She stopped for something to eat, kept in contact with Megan and Amber via text on her encrypted phone. Amber had shored up Fleur’s cover and was monitoring everything electronically from her end. Her boyfriend Jesse was helping Ty review and tighten security measures around the port in anticipation of the ship’s arrival in a few hours.

  All too soon, it was go time.

  She met the others in Megan and Ty’s hotel room. She’d steeled herself for the sight of Heath on the way over, but the moment those impossibly blue eyes locked with hers, that ache hit her beneath the ribs again.

  Blocking all of that, she changed into her op clothes—her standard black cargo pants and a long-sleeved black T-shirt. The team reviewed the plan once more, including contingency plans.

  When they were done, Megan gave Chloe a bright smile and slid her weapon into the holster in her waistband. “See you on the other side.”

  “You know it.” She watched Megan leave, followed by Ty, who carried the backpack with the disassembled rifle and other gear in it.

  Avoiding looking at Heath, she triple-checked her own bag. She stiffened when he came up behind her. Pressed her lips together when he put a caring hand on her shoulder.

  “You okay?”

  She moved away from his touch and stood. “Yeah. You ready to go?” More than anything she just wanted this over and done with, to have Fleur and the others safe.

  He gave her an unreadable look. “What do you need from me?”

  The question pierced her so deep she almost flinched. Her entire life as an operative, she’d never had teammates to rely on. People capable enough to hold their own on a mission, let alone ones she could trust. Someone to give a shit about her beyond her accomplishing the mission.

  Yet here was this solid, caring man she barely knew, standing in front of her asking what she needed. And she got the feeling that he’d give her anything she asked for.

  “I need you to do your job,” she said curtly, hating herself for being so bitchy but not knowing how else to protect herself.

  He gave a slow nod, those gorgeous eyes searching hers. “I will.”

  She knew he would. That almost made this worse.

  She hitched her backpack onto one shoulder and adjusted her waistband holster to make sure her weapon was concealed beneath the bottom of her jacket. “That’s it. I don’t need you to watch over or protect me. I’ve been doing this shit for a long time.”

  His jaw tightened, annoyance burning in his gaze. “Maybe. But I’m going to watch over you anyway.”

  Because that’s just who he was.

  Hating the way he threw her off balance, and the sudden tightening in her throat, she sighed. “That’s a sweet sentiment, but you need to know it irritates the shit out of me.”

  He stared at her. “You’ll live.”

  That Others May Live. The Pararescue motto.

  Chloe swallowed, the unspoken meaning reverberating between them. She couldn’t afford to acknowledge her emotions right now, and he held the power to reveal every last one of them. She had to be strong. Hard as steel. Cold as ice. Fleur and the others were depending on her.

  “Let’s go,” she said gruffly, and turned for the door.

  He stayed on her like a shadow as they moved into position, hiding in an abandoned office within view of the docks. They split up, Chloe going inside while Heath moved around to the side to monitor the situation from there.

  Alone, she was able to focus completely as she crouched beside a window and surreptitiously watched the ships through her binoculars.

  “Package has arrived. Two o’clock,” Heath’s deep voice murmured in her earpiece.

  La Liberté was being pushed toward the dock by a tugboat. “Copy,” she answered. “You guys have a visual from your position?” she asked Megan and Ty.

  “Negative. Moving to a better location now,” Megan responded.

  Chloe continued watching the boat as it drew near. Through the bridge window she could see the captain and other officers. A few other crewmembers were moving around the main deck. “No sign of our broker or the cargo,” she told the others. Fleur should be arriving any moment now.

  “Heads up,” Heath said a minute later. “Our flower delivery’s here.”

  Chloe scanned the dock and stopped on the woman approaching the vessel. Fleur was wearing the same disguise as in the picture she’d sent to Amber to beef up her cover ID—a light gray pencil skirt suit and black pumps, the deep brown wig wound into a tidy bun at the back of her head. She looked every inch the professional her cover claimed her to be.

  Chloe watched her friend closely as Fleur reached
the vessel and waited for admittance. Her friend was doing fantastic so far, no trace of nervousness in her posture or on her face. “I’m moving closer,” she informed the others.

  Quickly changing disguises once more, she made sure her weapon was out of sight before slipping out of the office and making her way to the dock. She was going to be as close as possible when this went down.

  “She’s going aboard,” Heath said, and by the time Chloe rounded the corner to get a visual, Fleur was indeed aboard the ship. She hated that Fleur didn’t have comms with her and the others, but at least Chloe was close now.

  No one looked twice at Chloe as she strode down the dock, keeping her eyes on her friend.

  A man appeared on deck with Fleur. Middle Eastern in appearance, middle-aged. “That our broker?” she murmured.

  “Affirm,” Megan replied.

  Fleur and the man talked for a few moments. Then the man went to a hatch in the side of the vessel and she seemed to hesitate. She casually glanced around her, her gaze moving right past Chloe.

  Then Fleur followed him out of view.

  Chloe’s heart rate picked up, her pulse thudding dully in her ears. No. No, come back out.

  This wasn’t the plan. They couldn’t see what was happening. Had no visual, no way of knowing what was going on.

  “Has she gone to check the cargo?” Heath asked tightly.

  “I don’t know,” she murmured back, fighting back the alarm growing in the pit of her stomach.

  “We’ve got a situation,” Megan said.

  Chloe stopped walking, dread making her guts clench at the tone her friend used. “Report.”

  “Dubois and his bodyguards are headed for the ship in a speed boat. He’ll be there in under thirty seconds.”

  A bolt of fear ripped through her. No. Dubois wasn’t supposed to be here.

  Chloe took off running for the ship, praying she would reach her friend in time.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Unease tightened Fleur’s stomach as she followed the broker into a staircase and below deck to inspect the “cargo” she was supposedly buying for her boss. With each step she was more and more out of her depth.

  This wasn’t the plan. Wasn’t supposed to happen. Now no one had a visual on her. But the broker had refused to bring any of the women on deck to speak to, insisting she go below with him to inspect the cargo. She hadn’t seen a way to talk herself out of this without tipping her hand and blowing her cover. She could have just walked away. But saving these women was important enough to her that she’d stayed and accepted the risks.

  The heels of her pumps tapped on the metal steps as they descended the well-lit stairwell. “Is it far down?” She wanted in and out of here as fast as possible. She would make sure the women were aboard and still alive, then immediately go back up on deck and signal Chloe and the rest of the team.

  “Two more decks. Take off your shoes if they’re bothering you,” he said without looking back, his almost bored tone making it clear he didn’t care one way or the other.

  She wished she were like Chloe, able to kill this evil cockroach, then free the women herself. But she wasn’t, and all she had was the knife Chloe had given her tucked into the sleeve of her suit jacket.

  Her steps seemed to echo off the narrow walls, the broker a good twenty stairs ahead of her, nearly to the next deck hatch now. Her shoes were painful, but without them her feet would be completely unprotected. If she had to run for it, she wasn’t sure which was worse, being barefoot, or trying to escape in these torture contraptions.

  Metal groaned as the man opened the hatch and stood waiting for her with an annoyed expression. “In here. Hurry up.”

  Fleur hurried, her heart thudding hard against her ribs as she followed him through the hatch into the dim interior. As soon as she did, she smelled it.

  Sweat, unwashed bodies and human waste.

  She swallowed a gag, barely kept from covering her nose as she followed him down a narrow corridor. It was quiet. Way too quiet, and she didn’t see any other crewmembers on this level.

  The broker stopped beside a panel and hit a switch. Blinding white light lit up the space. Fleur squinted and held up a hand to shield her eyes, her unfocused gaze landing on a sight before her that made her stomach twist.

  A large shipping container with a hole cut into the side, metal bars acting like a jail cell window.

  “In there,” the man said, and tossed something at her.

  Fleur reflexively caught the flashlight to her stomach. Swallowing, doing her best to cover her revulsion and fear, she switched it on and aimed it at the metal bars.

  She saw nothing but darkness inside. She stepped closer, keeping the beam of light at eye level. A few paces from the container, she stopped. Eyes gleamed in the residual light that penetrated the bottom of the container. She couldn’t see them well enough to make out their faces, but she could tell all the people trapped in there were staring back at her.

  A wave of rage swept through Fleur.

  She couldn’t tell them she was there to help. That they were close to freedom.

  “Satisfied?” the man asked in a bored tone.

  “How many are there?”

  “Twenty-seven.”

  She turned to face the monster who had facilitated this evil transaction. “One is missing.”

  He shrugged. “Died on the way here.”

  “What did you do with the body?”

  “Shark food, by now.”

  It took everything Fleur had not to react outwardly to that hideously callous statement. The prisoner had died of God only knew what, and they’d dumped her overboard like a dead fish.

  For an instant she fantasized about slitting his throat with her knife. Catching him off guard and leaving him down here to bleed out all over the floor. “That will change the price.”

  “No, it won’t.”

  She put on her stoniest expression, pretended that her heart wasn’t beating ten times too fast, aching for these women and filled with hatred toward him and the men who had done this. “It will. My employer won’t pay for something he doesn’t get.”

  “We’ll see about that.” He turned and started for the stairs. “Let’s finish the transaction topside. An important guest is arriving shortly.”

  She faltered. “Oh? Who’s that?” She forced herself to follow him. She would finish this in plain sight where Chloe and the others would see her, finish her part in making this rescue possible. And she hoped the team found an excuse to kill this evil monster in the process.

  He shot her a cold smile over his shoulder before disappearing through the hatch. “The seller.”

  Fleur stopped dead, her heart rocketing into her throat. It wasn’t possible. Guillaume Dubois? Here?

  Blood pulsed in her ears as she climbed the stairs back to the main deck, thinking fast. What should she do? Dubois wouldn’t recognize her, he’d never seen her before. He had taken over this transaction now that his brother was dead. Was he here just to oversee it, or was he hoping Chloe showed up? Fleur was good at lying, but was she good enough to convince him she was who her ID claimed she was?

  Her palms were damp, her fingers cold by the time they reached the main deck. She needed to handle the “payment” now, then get out of here before Dubois got aboard. She pulled the tablet from inside her suit jacket. She walked past the broker, moving to stand near the bow where she was supposed to, so the team could see her clearly.

  Oh, God, Chloe, please be out there.

  She dropped the stylus, signaling to the others that the women were aboard. Then she crouched to pick it up, steeling herself for what came next. “Let’s take care of the payment before—”

  “Ah, here we are.” He smirked as a group of men exited the bridge to her right.

  The blood drained from her face.

  Guillaume Dubois, flanked by two bodyguards. Big men in tailored suits that no doubt hid weapons.

  The way Dubois’ cold blue eyes fastened on her
made her insides curdle. She struggled to keep her expression calm while her heart threatened to implode, her fingers curling reflexively around the tablet.

  Chloe’s close. She won’t let anything happen to you.

  Her protector was watching her. Fleur prayed her friend would be able to keep her safe.

  GUILLAUME EYED THE pale woman holding the tablet. Supposedly an accountant from his brother’s organization. Here to take the place of the beautiful and treacherous “Gabrielle” at the last moment, no doubt.

  After what had happened, he was suspicious enough to come here in person and ensure everything was legitimate.

  “Camille, is it?” he asked as he walked toward her.

  “Yes.” Her face was stiff. The set of her shoulders too, and her pupils were dilated slightly. He made a lot of people nervous, but this woman was genuinely afraid. And there was no reason for her to be that way unless she’d done something wrong.

  “Check her ID,” he said to Jean-Pierre. His head of security had already checked before leaving Paris. Everything looked okay on the surface, but that wasn’t good enough for Guillaume.

  The woman paled even more, reluctantly reached into her jacket to produce a thin wallet. She handed it to Jean-Pierre, who glanced at the contents and walked back to give it to Guillaume.

  The ID matched her. But that didn’t mean shit.

  Guillaume stopped a half-dozen paces from her and waved Jean-Pierre and his other bodyguard off. This woman was no threat to him and he was more than capable of defending himself.

  Her gaze followed his men as they retreated back into the bridge with the broker.

  “I’m told you inspected the cargo. Was everything in order?”

  Her gaze snapped back to him. “N-no. One girl was missing. The broker said she died during transport. They threw her overboard.”

  There was a distinct tremor in her voice. “Really.” He nodded at the tablet. “You’re going to authorize the transfer?”