Explosive Vengeance

by Kaylea Cross

  “Shit. She’s going after Dubois.”

  Oh, Jesus, no. He spun around and raced for his room to grab his weapon. “How do we find her?” Going after Dubois alone right now was tantamount to suicide.

  Megan’s worried sigh filled him with foreboding. “We can’t.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  It took Chloe less than thirty minutes to find some disguises to suit her purpose. She broke into a closed drycleaner shop and found a couple of outfits to use, changed into the skirt suit and packed the rest in a satchel she’d snagged from an unsuspecting patron outside a bakery. Not nearly as seamless as what Megan could do, but it did the job.

  Although if Megan knew what Chloe was up to, she would try to stop her. And Amber was no doubt hot on Dubois’ electronic trail, if she hadn’t found him already.

  Chloe didn’t care what the others were doing. She was handling this herself now.

  Her plan was simple: find Dubois and kill him. He would die for what he’d done to Fleur, and that was the end of it. She would worry about locating the missing shipment of women later—if she survived this hit.

  The odds were against her. Dubois had his personal security detail with him at all times, and he had countless dirty resources in his pocket. There was a good chance she would either be captured or killed, but that was a risk she was prepared to take. All she had to do was think of Fleur, of everything her friend had selflessly done to help protect others, and the memory of her body being thrown over the side of the ship.

  A fresh burst of rage exploded through Chloe, burning away the searing grief and the heavy weight of exhaustion trying to dull her mind. She hadn’t slept in too long. Soon she would hit a wall. It was looming ahead of her, just out of sight.

  No. Stay sharp. You have to stay sharp.

  She had to do this now, or she might not get another chance. Amber’s technological wizardry gave her a huge advantage. But Chloe was here on the ground, and determined to find Dubois first.

  Thankfully, her list of potential places to hunt for him was blessedly short. A man with his ego and wealth only stayed at the best places money could afford. Enquiring at the front desk of the InterContinental Marseille, she hit pay dirt.

  “May I help you?” the man at the front desk asked her with a smile.

  Chloe adjusted the non-prescription reading glasses she’d found in the satchel. “Yes, I’m checking to see if a guest might still be here,” she replied in flawless French. “We had a business meeting earlier and he forgot some important legal documents. If he hasn’t checked out yet, may I leave them here for him?”

  “Of course. The name?”

  “Guillaume Dubois.”

  The man checked the system and gave her a smile. “I’ll have them delivered to his room first thing in the morning.”

  Hiding her reaction, she smiled back and handed over a legal envelope with blank paper in it. “Thank you so much.”

  She exited the hotel, paused in an alley a half block over to change once more, this time into a police uniform she’d taken from the drycleaner. It was a few sizes too big, and too long in the legs and sleeves, but it would do, and she didn’t have to worry about hiding her weapon. After plaiting her hair into a braid at the back of her head, she doubled back and chose a different entrance into the hotel.

  The lobby was practically deserted as she passed by it and walked down the hallway to a service staircase. Security rooms were usually located in the basement of these places, and she found it easily enough. One man and one woman looked up as she entered the room. She introduced herself and asked if there had been any disturbances on the top two floors where the most expensive suites were located.

  Both of them looked surprised and told her nothing had been reported.

  “We got a call from Mr. Dubois’ head of security that someone had been lurking around in the hallway outside his suite just over an hour ago, unauthorized. Can you check the surveillance footage?”

  “No one alerted us, and I didn’t see anything.” Frowning in concern, the man pulled up the requested footage.

  “Start it at ninety minutes ago,” she told him.

  Chloe watched over his shoulder as he rewound the video. Her heart rate picked up when she spotted Dubois’ head of security on camera. He and another man walked to the end of the hall and entered two adjoining rooms, checking to make sure they were safe. The head of security exited the room and headed back down the hall for the elevator.

  The security guard fast-forwarded the video, stopping when someone else appeared on screen. Dubois and his head of security. Dubois went first, his bodyguard letting him in the suite at the far end.

  Gotcha, you son of a bitch.

  No one else came or went during the rest of the video. “There’s no one else,” the guard said. “Want me to go back earlier?”

  “No need. Just another rich asshole being paranoid. Thanks for your time.”

  She left the security room, stopped by the hotel laundry to grab a change of clothes, and headed back to where she’d stashed her satchel. The weight of her weapon pressed against the holster in her waistband, the urge to act beating at her. She might know where Dubois was, but going after him now was too dangerous. She could call in a bomb threat to evacuate the building and force him out that way, but with so much chaos and that many people in the way, it would be harder to isolate him.

  She’d have to wait, try to catch him and his security off guard.

  A light drizzle began to fall just after midnight. Chloe huddled in a doorway off a deserted side street and allowed herself to doze off and on. By the time dawn broke she was half-frozen and stiff from the cold. She changed into the hotel uniform she’d taken from the laundry, wound her hair up in a bun at the back of her head, then walked back to the hotel and entered a door in the back with other staff arriving for their morning shift.

  She positioned herself by the front lobby doors, moving from place to place, doing various tasks to appear occupied, finally ending up outside where the valet crew was busy bringing up patrons’ cars.

  Her chance came far more quickly than she’d anticipated.

  Chloe dropped the cloth she was using to wipe the windows down when she spotted Dubois’ head of security striding through the lobby for the front doors. She ducked out of sight, chose her position with care as the man came out. He scanned around him, his gaze pausing on her only for a moment before sliding past, and spoke to the valet attendant. He stayed put until a black Mercedes pulled up to the curb minutes later, then pulled out his phone and called someone, presumably Dubois.

  Her pulse pounded dully in her ears as she waited, standing beside a tall topiary that gave her concealment. Watching through the slim gap between it and the window, she spotted Dubois the moment he appeared in the lobby. He was dressed casually in khakis and a button-down shirt, freshly shaved, striding across the marble floor with the air of a man who thought he owned everything and everyone. A wealthy businessman who looked anything but the cold-blooded murderer who had shot Fleur down yesterday.

  He exited through the front doors, heading for his car where the head of security held the back door open for him.

  Now.

  Everything slowed around her, her exhausted body automatically going into op mode.

  She stepped out from behind the topiary. Dubois was fifty feet away, his back to her.

  Chloe’s breathing was slightly uneven as she reached into her hotel blazer for her pistol. Her fingers curled around the grip, her gaze locked on her target as she started to draw her weapon—

  A flash of pink appeared in her peripheral vision. She glanced toward it just as a little girl burst out of the lobby doors, pulling a pink suitcase. “Told you I’m fast, Papa!”

  Chloe froze on the sidewalk as Dubois reached out an arm and curled it around the girl. “I can’t believe how fast. Much faster than your sister and mother,” he said, smiling down at her as he reached for her suitcase.

  No. Her hand was lock
ed around the pistol, disillusionment ripping through her. His daughter.

  Dubois turned to usher the girl into the backseat. His gaze caught on Chloe. Held for an instant, his face freezing.

  Releasing her weapon, Chloe forced herself to calmly turn away, pretending to wipe at the glass beside her on her way up the sidewalk.

  A car door slammed shut, then the quiet purr of an expensive engine followed as the Mercedes pulled away.

  Hands trembling slightly, Chloe darted a look over her shoulder, expecting Dubois’ head of security to be coming after her. But he was inside the car as it drove away at a sedate pace. Taking Dubois out of range.

  Chloe stared after it, choking back tears of rage and bitterness. She might have just lost her only chance at killing him. And she wasn’t sure how she was going to live with that.

  ****

  Heath waited until he was out of the cab before calling Ty. “No luck at the InterContinental. I’m coming back to the hotel.”

  “We’ll meet you up at your room,” his friend replied. “Amber said the trail on Dubois went cold after he left the InterContinental, but she’s hunting for a new lead.”

  “I’m three blocks away.” He tugged his hood up as the rain fell in a cold, gray sheet. “See you soon.” Between the three of them they’d tried eight different hotels, searching for any sign that Chloe might have been there. Goddammit, he never should have left her alone. Should have known she would go after Dubois.

  Valkyries didn’t get close to many people. Chloe had loved Fleur. As tough and badass as she was, this loss had rocked her to her core, and now they’d lost her.

  A sick feeling roiled in the pit of his stomach as he trudged along the deserted sidewalk through the rain. Chloe had exploded into his life like a shooting star. The thought of never seeing her again, of something bad happening to her, was impossible to accept.

  She could be anywhere right now. Had she found Dubois? They hadn’t heard anything on the news, and neither had Amber with all her electronic surveillance, so maybe Chloe was still okay. He had to hope she was, and that she contacted them soon.

  He did a double take as he passed by an alcove in an old building, then stopped short. His heart surged, then clenched when he spotted Chloe huddled on the step. She was dressed in an InterContinental hotel uniform, the jacket soaked with rain, her hair slipping from her bun to lay around her shoulders in wet tangles.

  “Chloe,” he breathed, rushing over to crouch in front of her, grasping her hand and cupping the side of her face. Jesus, she was soaked through, her skin freezing and she didn’t seem to notice or care. He did a visual sweep, looking for blood and any other sign of injury. “Are you hurt?”

  She didn’t answer him right away, the haunted look in her eyes making alarm bells clang in his head. “I let him get away,” she murmured in a leaden tone, staring at his chest. Dark circles marked the skin beneath her eyes. She looked so exhausted and defeated his heart twisted. “He was fifty feet from me. I had my hand on my weapon, ready to draw it and fire. One shot, that’s all it would have taken.”

  “What happened?” he asked, gently rubbing his thumb across her cheek. Damn, she was freezing, a blue tinge to her lips.

  “Couldn’t do it, because his daughter was there. I couldn’t let her see him die.” The self-loathing and exhaustion in her voice worried him. “So I watched him get into the car. I stood there and let him drive away. I only got a partial plate.”

  Heath didn’t give a shit about Dubois at the moment. “Hey, look at me.”

  She hesitated, then slowly lifted her eyes to his.

  The pain there twisted his insides. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

  She dropped her gaze. “No.”

  Satisfied that she was physically okay, he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Up you come.” He lifted her to her feet.

  She pushed at his chest. “I failed her.”

  Fleur. “You didn’t fail anyone. And if Fleur cared about you half as much as you did her, you winding up dead or in prison for the rest of your life isn’t what she would have wanted.”

  When she protested the tug on her hand his patience came to an abrupt end. He bent to scoop her up in his arms, ignoring her protests. “You’re soaked and freezing. We’re getting you warmed up and in dry clothes, then the others are coming to meet us.” And this time he wouldn’t be leaving her alone in the bathroom.

  Rather than argue, she seemed to sag in his hold and dropped her head against his shoulder. It twisted his insides, seeing this strong, fearless woman spent to the point that she’d lower her guard and lean on him.

  Thankfully, there was no one else on the sidewalk on the way to the hotel. The lady at the front desk gasped in alarm when she saw him carrying Chloe. Chloe shifted in his arms and said something in flawless French to the woman, giving her a smile. The woman returned it, though she still seemed a bit worried.

  “What did you say to her?” Heath asked as he carried her into the elevator.

  “That I twisted my ankle and you were being my hero by carrying me to our room.” She pushed gently at his shoulder when the elevator doors slid shut. “You can put me down now.”

  He didn’t want to. “Maybe I like carrying you.”

  Those deep brown eyes lifted, and he found himself wanting to do whatever it took to erase the painful shadows in them. If she’d been injured, he could have fixed it. This…

  Though it went against every instinct that wanted to comfort and protect, the logical side of him knew she would resent him if he didn’t let go, so he set her on her feet. He stayed right behind her as they walked down the hall to her room, then followed her in and locked the door before grabbing her hand and leading her into the bathroom.

  Without a word he started the shower then turned to face her. She took a step back, frowning. “I can manage.”

  “I want to make sure you’re not hurt.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I want to see for myself.”

  She heaved an irritated sigh and rolled her eyes, then started taking off her sodden uniform. He helped her, tugging the wet material down her arms and legs. She had scrapes on her knees, elbows and the heels of her hands, but otherwise appeared unhurt. When she was naked, he urged her into the shower, stripped and stepped in behind her.

  She looked at him over her shoulder. The exhaustion that had dulled her eyes was gone, replaced by suspicion. “I’m fine.”

  Physically, yeah. The rest, not even close, no matter what she said. “Pass the shampoo.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, then relented and handed the tiny bottle to him. The invigorating scent of mint and lime filled the shower as he spread it between his hands and began lathering her hair.

  Chloe was stiff at first, but as the hot water beat down on her shoulders and his hands massaged her scalp, she began to melt. Soon she let out a groan and let her head drop forward, her eyes closing as he worked the lather into her hair.

  After rinsing her hair thoroughly, he used the shower gel to gently wash the salt from her skin, making sure to keep his hands away from her breasts and between her legs. When he was done, he shut off the water, wrapped her in a big towel and lifted her from the tub. She put on a hotel robe while he got dressed again. He came out of the bathroom to find her sitting on the end of her bed, plaiting her damp hair into a long braid over her shoulder.

  Heath sat down beside her, unsure what to say. He’d never been in a situation like this, and talking about painful things had never been his strong suit. Still, for Chloe he was willing to try. “You want to talk about it?”

  She shook her head. “There’s nothing else to say.”

  Okay. “I’m sorry about Fleur. I know it hurts.”

  She looked at him, studied his eyes. “Yeah, I guess you do know.”

  He damn sure did. He’d lost his mom, and friends in the line of duty. Had been unable to save them, or avenge them later. Lifting a hand, he ran it over the crown of her head, pausing to
curl his fingers around her nape. “Dubois will pay for what he did.”

  She searched his eyes, then nodded. “Yes. He will.” She stood and walked around to the head of the bed. “I’m tired. Think I’ll crash for a bit.”

  Heath was relieved to hear it, though he would rather she ask him to climb in next to her. “Sure.” She’d gone without sleep for too long, and after the emotional toll she’d just withstood, she needed rest.

  Still, he couldn’t help pausing to admire the sight of her naked body as she let the robe drop to the floor before sliding between the sheets. Tucking them around her, he placed his hands on either side of her head and bent to kiss her temple. “Sleep tight. I’ll be right through that door if you need anything.”

  Leaving the connecting door between their rooms open so he could keep eyes on her this time, he pulled out his phone to text Ty.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “How’s she doing?” Ty whispered when Heath let him into his room a few minutes later.

  “Sleeping.” Finally. “Where’s Megan?”

  “She’s at our hotel talking with Amber. They’re following up a possible new lead on Dubois.”

  Heath groaned. If they found something and Chloe heard about it, she’d go right back to the hunt.

  “Problem?” Ty asked.

  “Yeah.” He nodded at the connecting door. “I don’t want her to go through any more.”

  Ty nodded and dropped into an easy chair. “I get it. But that’s not how it works with these women.”

  Annoyed, off-balance, Heath sat on the foot of his bed to regard his best friend. “You should have seen her when I found her. She’s done, man.”

  Ty watched him steadily. “You’re awfully protective of her.”

  Heath shot him a hard look. “Hell yeah, I’m protective of her. Not that I can do anything to protect her from what happened,” he muttered under his breath.

  “I feel you, man, I really do. Especially since I know how you’re wired.”