by Cynthia Eden
“Now I’m coming for you,” Cale said as he started to make his way up the stairs. “So you need to get your hands off her.”
But her captor’s hands had tightened, and Cassidy felt the sharp slice of a blade on her neck.
“Can you see the knife in my right hand?” the man holding her demanded. “Because it’s at her throat. You take one more step, hero, and I’ll slice her from ear to ear.”
Cassidy wasn’t breathing.
She knew the man meant exactly what he said.
Cale stopped advancing. “You’re bluffing. If she’s dead, then you can’t use her. You can’t ransom her.”
“No, but there are others like her. Rich, useless women who can be taken and controlled. There are always more, just waiting to be taken.”
Waiting to be killed?
She heard the thud of footsteps behind them. More of the Executioner’s men, coming to help him.
Coming to hurt Cale? To kill him?
How much more time needed to pass before help came for her and Cale?
Cassidy licked her lips. “Was…Helen McDonough…so useless? So easy to control?”
She felt his start of surprise against her.
Cale advanced a step.
“Helen?” the man repeated. “I remember her so well. She was my first. You never forget your first.”
She wanted to sink that knife into his throat. “She was my friend!”
Cale crept up another step.
“She was a spoiled princess who begged while I sliced her…. Begged…” He jerked Cassidy back, yanking her up the stairs and away from Cale. They crossed the threshold and stumbled into another room. “Just like you’ll beg before I’m done with you.”
CHAPTER FIVE
And, with his cold, brutal words, Cassidy let the mask that she’d worn for so long fall away. Her fear was real—but so was her rage.
“No. I won’t beg.” She shoved back with her elbow as hard as she could. He grunted, and his hold loosened. That little bit of slack was all she needed. Cassidy ducked, dropping right from under his arm. The knife sliced over her, but she didn’t care.
“Cassidy!” Cale’s bellow. His footsteps thundered up the stairs.
She swiped out with her hand and yanked the ski mask off the man who’d held her. The man who spoke of Helen’s death so callously.
The Executioner.
His men were crowding in behind him. Some held guns. Some had no weapons at all.
She ignored them.
Hurry, Mercer, hurry.
Cassidy stared up at the monster who’d haunted so many of her dreams. Only he didn’t look like a monster.
Under the bright light, his blond hair gleamed. His face was handsome, cut in smooth, clean lines. He could have been any man that she’d met at a dozen parties.
He should have looked as evil as he was.
He offered her a smile. “Not what you expected, am I?” He lifted his knife, a knife red from her blood. “Don’t worry. By the time I’m finished, you’ll have changed your mind.”
“No!” Cale’s voice. He burst from the basement. “You won’t be—”
An alarm sounded, then, the shrill cry echoing through the building, and that jarring sound was a relief to Cassidy. The most beautiful sound that she’d ever heard.
If the alarm was sounding, then that meant…
“He was followed!” the Executioner cried. “Damn it, we have to—”
Gunfire exploded. Only the gunfire didn’t come from the weapons that the Executioner’s men held. The bullets hit the Executioner’s men, taking them out.
The Executioner reached for Cassidy, but Cale was there, shoving him back, driving his weapon at the blond man even as the Executioner sliced with his own blade.
The scent of blood deepened.
And the gunshots kept blasting.
The Executioner stumbled back. He stared down at his blood-covered chest in shock. “No, not to me…” He lifted his weapon once more. “You don’t stop—”
Bullets slammed into his exposed chest. One hit. Two. Three. He jerked back with each impact, as if he were a puppet being yanked on a string. Blood dripped from his mouth. His eyes went wide, then he fell back, slamming into the floor.
His men—those still alive, anyway—began firing back at their assailants. A bullet blazed just past Cassidy’s arm, so close that she felt the burn on her skin.
Then Cale was there, shielding her, rushing her toward the door on the right. He made sure his body covered hers for every step that they took.
He ripped open the door.
Over his shoulder, she saw men coming from the shadows. Men who moved with a lethal precision that marked them as hunters. She counted four—no, five of them.
“Cassidy?”
The voice came from inside the room that she and Cale had just entered. It was weak and scared…and the whispery voice belonged to Genevieve.
Cassidy rushed toward her. Genevieve was tied to a chair. Her friend was sobbing, shaking. She’d nearly managed to break free from her bonds; the rope was barely clinging to her wrists.
Cale cut through the remaining rope with the glass he still held. Just a piece of glass, but it was a weapon he’d used with brutal efficiency time and again.
“What’s happening?” Genevieve demanded as she reached for Cassidy. “Those shots…” Tears leaked down her cheeks. “Are we going to die?”
“No.” Cale’s voice was certain. “I’m getting you both out of here.”
She believed him. After the way she’d seen him take down those men—just with that shard of glass—she was ready to believe that Cale could do anything.
The door flew open behind them.
Cale spun, body tensing, as he faced the new threat.
Cassidy recognized the man in the doorway. Logan—Cale’s teammate.
“Figured you could use some backup about now.” Logan’s gaze slid to Cassidy, narrowed. “Apparently Mercer figured the same thing. He sent in a full detail with guns blazing.”
She could still hear those blazing guns.
Logan inclined his head when he noticed Genevieve’s huddled form. “You saved the girl.”
“And stopped the killer,” Cassidy said, straightening. The gunfire—it had just ended.
Genevieve’s cries deepened behind her.
“The Executioner is dead,” Cassidy told Logan.
“He’d be the blond out there,” Cale added. “The one with three bullets in his chest and his right shoulder carved open.”
“You do like to play rough,” Logan muttered.
“The bullets came from someone else. I’m guessing that full detail you mentioned, because I know Gunner would have only needed one shot.”
Genevieve grabbed for Cassidy’s arm. “Get me out of here!”
Cassidy nodded.
Logan checked behind him. Then he tapped a small, black headset at his ear. “Are we clear?” A pause. “Then I’m bringing them out.”
Cale reached for Cassidy’s left hand.
Did he stumble?
She studied his face. He was pale, far paler than she’d ever seen him before. “Cale needs help! He was shot.”
His fingers tightened on hers. “Baby, I got this.”
How could he sound so calm? So…certain?
But then they were being led back out of the room, and Genevieve’s cries grew worse at the sight that confronted her.
Blood. Death.
“I don’t know how he got these guys here so fast,” Logan mused as he surveyed the team that was making quick work of cleaning up the bloody scene. “I figured when I gave him the news that Mercer would track your unit, Cale, but then he already had these men just mere miles out as
Gunner and I were getting into launch position.”
His unit? Oh, Cale had a tracker, too.
They didn’t know about her own device.
Because they didn’t know about her.
“Ma’am?”
Cassidy glanced up and saw a man standing before her. He had close-cropped, black hair and golden eyes. A long scar cut across his right cheek. He wore all black, and he had a gun holstered at his side. He offered his hand to her. “You’re supposed to come with me, Ms. Sherridan.”
Ms. Sherridan? That guy knew her better than that.
Cale immediately shoved that offered hand to the side. “The hell she is, Lancaster.”
So Cale knew him, too. Not surprising. Agent Lancaster had been with the EOD for a few years now.
Lancaster slanted his gaze toward Cale. “You’ll need that wound tended to.”
Cale’s body all but vibrated with rage. “What I need is for you—”
“Russell, Owens…you two make sure that Ms. Chevalier is checked out and returned home.” Two more men in black moved toward Genevieve at Lancaster’s order.
Genevieve inched closer to Cassidy. “What’s going on? Who are these men, Cassidy?”
“It’s okay.” Cassidy gave her a hug. “They’re the good guys.” Mostly. “They’ll keep you safe.”
After a moment, Genevieve nodded and slowly walked away with the men.
Lancaster still stood in front of Cassidy. “I’ve got my orders. Mercer wants me to bring her in.” He was staring at Cassidy, but his words were for Cale.
“She stays with me. I’m the one who—”
“You’re the one who used her so that he could play hero and take down the Executioner.” Lancaster’s voice was flat. “Mercer knows exactly who you are.”
No, he had that wrong. Cale hadn’t used her. She was the one who’d put him in jeopardy.
“You don’t seriously think he just…let you go, do you, Ms. Sherridan?” Lancaster shook his dark head. “Mercer was very clear on what Cale was to do on the extraction…and he didn’t follow orders.”
“So now you’re taking over?” Cale gritted out.
“Yes, I am.”
But Cassidy didn’t want to go with him. She…she trusted Cale. She wanted to be with him.
So she twined her fingers with his. “Where I go, he goes.”
Lancaster’s dark brows climbed.
“So unless you have orders to physically pry me away from him—” doubtful, though she wouldn’t put that past Mercer “—then you can escort us both out of here. You aren’t taking me away from Cale.”
A muscle jerked in Lancaster’s jaw. “Figured you’d be as stubborn as Mercer.”
Her breath caught. He knew. But then, Lancaster had worked with her longer than most agents had.
A faint smile lifted Lancaster’s lips. There were secrets in his eyes. Plenty of them.
Cassidy knew she would have to deal very, very carefully with Agent Lancaster.
* * *
MOST FOLKS WOULD have never noticed the small clinic. It wasn’t in the heart of Rio, wasn’t close to the Carnival celebration. It was near the jungle, barely clinging to the edge of civilization. The doctor there knew how to keep quiet—and he also knew how to hurriedly patch an ex-soldier’s wounds.
No anesthesia was given. Cale didn’t want anything to dull his senses. The bullet was pulled from him; the stitches sank into his skin. Cassidy stayed by his side every moment, her worried gaze on him.
Blood streaked her clothes. Blood and dirt. She had to be exhausted after all that she’d been through, but the woman remained on her feet, stubbornly holding his hand like it was a lifeline for her.
Or for him.
This…this was the spoiled debutante that he’d scoffed at before?
Hell, no. This woman was completely different. She was strong, and brave, and…
He wanted her so badly that he ached. The newest bullet wound he had didn’t matter. The bruises and aches in his body were all but forgotten.
Cassidy—and the growing need that he felt for her—consumed him.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her face. So lovely. So perfect. When the Executioner had put his knife to her throat, when Cale had thought that Cassidy might die…
I went a little mad.
He’d raced up those stairs and had been ready to beat the man to death in an instant. Been ready to do anything for her.
“Finished.” The doctor’s English was rough, but his fingers were fast enough as they snapped up the money that Logan offered for services rendered.
“Obrigado.” Cale thanked him in Portuguese.
The doctor nodded, then hurried from the small room. Logan followed him.
Cale was left alone with Cassidy.
Finally.
He eased up, feeling the stretch of those new stitches as he sat on the edge of the metal exam table. Cassidy’s leg brushed against his.
“Take it easy,” she said, eyes worried. “You don’t want to undo the man’s work so soon.”
He pulled her closer, positioning her so that she stood between his spread knees. “You were wearing a mask.” He could see that now. No, see her.
She blinked at him. “Uh, Cale, did you hit your head at any time during that fight? Maybe it’s too much blood loss….”
His fingers rose and curled around her chin. “Stop, Cassidy. I see you now.”
For an instant, fear flashed in her eyes, but she blinked and the emotion was gone.
Just like that.
She was very good at wearing her mask.
A much better actor than he was.
“What do you think it is that you see?” Her lips twisted. “A woman who almost got you killed?”
“A woman who was willing to risk her life to stop a killer.”
Her lashes lowered. “I didn’t want you hurt. You can’t keep taking bullets for me.”
His hand went to hers once more. He brought her fingers to his bare chest.
She flinched at the contact.
He had to bite back a groan. Her hand was so soft, and she was—caressing him. Almost as if she didn’t even realize what she was doing.
Swallowing, he moved her fingers, making sure that she felt all of the scars that marked him. Old bullet wounds. Knife wounds. Too many battles over too many years.
“I’m used to risk,” he told her.
Her lips parted as a soft sigh slipped from her. “But this risk should have been mine, not yours.”
She was tracing the scar on his left side, just a few inches above his nipple.
His pants were too tight, and Cale knew she had to see his arousal. There was no hiding some things.
But Cassidy didn’t back away from him.
She eased even closer.
His heartbeat kicked up.
“I’ve never seen anyone fight the way you did.”
When it came to up-close kills, he knew he had a brutal talent. But that wasn’t something he would have chosen for her to see.
I guess we’re both seeing things we shouldn’t. “Why do you do it?” Cale asked, voice deep and rough because the arousal he felt for her pulsed through him. “Why do you pretend to be the party girl, flitting from one ballroom to another?”
“Maybe that is who I am.” Where his voice had been rough, hers was soft. Husky. “No pretending needed.”
He didn’t buy it anymore. “No. You’re the woman who didn’t flinch when the Executioner had his knife at her throat.” Even though she’d flinched when she’d touched Cale’s chest.
So many contradictions.
So much mystery.
That was Cassidy.
“You’re strong and you’re smart, and
you don’t let fear control you.”
Her gaze met his. She didn’t stop touching him. “That’s because I can’t let it control me. I won’t.”
She was so much stronger than he’d realized. I was a fool.
“They’re going to try to take me away from you.” Cassidy’s soft words made him furious—because he knew they were true.
He’d screwed up. He hadn’t protected her as he should have, and now Mercer already had other EOD agents there to take over her case.
One agent in particular…
Drew Lancaster. The guy was good—cold but good. Former Delta Force, Lancaster had a reputation for emotionless hunts. Some said he had ice that pumped through his veins, not blood.
“I guess that’s the way it works, right? Agents come, agents go.” Her smile was bittersweet. “But I’m not going to forget you as easily as I have the others.”
“Damn straight, you’re not.” He sure wouldn’t be forgetting her anytime soon, and—he didn’t want to let her go.
So he tightened his hold on her.
“Why did you kiss me in that basement?” Cale asked her, unable to hold back the question. She hadn’t needed to seduce him then.
“I did it for the same reason that I kissed you the first time.”
The first time her lips had brushed against his, Cale had thought that she was trying to manipulate him with sex.
A trick that wouldn’t have worked coming from most women.
Only she wasn’t most women. He was finding that he would do just about anything for her.
“What was the reason?” he pressed, because he wanted to hear her confession.
“Don’t you already know?” Then she leaned toward him. Her lips feathered lightly over his. “Because I want you, Cale Lane. I kissed you the first time because I needed to feel your mouth on mine, and the second time—it was about need, too. About me wanting you, needing you, as a memory to hold against anything bad that could happen to me in that terrible place.”
Had she thought that she might not escape the Executioner alive?
Her lips molded to his.
His mouth opened as he took control of the kiss. He wanted more than just a light touch from her. He wanted everything.
That was exactly what he was determined to have.