by Jo Davis
“She’s probably still there, working late. Let’s go get her, and we’ll find a safe place for both of you.”
They sprinted down the street, and Gray hoped she was still at the restaurant. He had to get to her before Santos did.
If the bastard laid a finger on her, he was going to die.
***
Anna hurried down the sidewalk, intent on getting home to Gray. She was thinking about how she’d do a striptease for him tonight. Maybe conjure up something naughty involving whipped cream.
Which is why she didn’t see the shadow detach itself from a nearby building until it was too late.
A man grabbed her and dragged her into the shadows, a hand going over her mouth, something small and hard pressed into her lower back. “Be quiet, Miss Claire. I’d hate for this to go off accidentally. Understand?” She nodded, pulse tripping. “Good. We’re going to walk back to your building, nice and casual, and go up to your restaurant. Scream and I’ll kill you, and anyone else who’s nearby.”
In light of that threat, she didn’t make a sound as they began to walk. She shouldn’t have been surprised to see Petrov emerge from the shadows to join them, but somehow she was. Disappointment in the Russian surged through her, though she couldn’t understand it. He was a killer, for God’s sake!
In the lobby, the surprised security guard called out to her. Before she could say a word, Petrov walked straight up to the man and knocked him out cold with the butt of his gun. The elevator ride was silent, but when they got to her restaurant, Santos ordered her into the dining area, instructing her to sit at a table.
“Now what?” she asked.
“I make a call,” Santos said coolly. “Then we wait.”
***
As Gray and Delacruz rounded the corner and turned onto the street where the restaurant was located, his phone buzzed again. Thinking it was Simon, he slowed, then stopped to answer. But he didn’t recognize the number on the display.
“Sloane.”
“Ah, agent. Good. You are prompt. I like that.”
His blood froze. “What do you want, Santos?”
Beside him, Delacruz cursed.
“I want you and Delacruz at Floor Fifty-Five, now. Come alone, or Anna dies.” The click sounded the end of the call.
“Fuck!” Gray exploded. “He’s got Anna at the restaurant. He said for us to go alone or she dies.”
“Are you going to listen to him?”
“No. We need backup.”
“But he said—”
“I don’t care what he said. I’ve been doing this a long time, and we don’t deal with hostage-takers without letting someone know. I’ll call Simon and he’ll get a team moving.”
After hesitating, Delacruz nodded. Gray didn’t need his damned permission, but he was glad the man was on board. Gray made a quick call to Simon, who promised to move a team in quickly.
Once they reached the building, Gray took them around to the back.
“Where are we going?” Joaquin asked.
“Santos doesn’t know that I worked here undercover. There’s a service entrance down in the parking garage with an elevator that opens up in the back, past the kitchen. It’s how they get all their shipments in and out.”
Delacruz grinned at that information. “Lead the way.”
He took them through the parking garage to the service elevator. Punching the up button, they waited for the car to descend, then took it to the top floor.
“Is this thing quiet?” asked Delacruz. It was a valid question.
“Yeah. It’s in the back. People in the dining room can’t hear the hum of it going up and down or it would disturb their meals.”
“Perfect.”
At the top, the door slid open and they exited silently. Keeping out of sight of the windows in the double doors leading to the kitchen, they went down the hallway. Once at the doors, Gray risked a peek. Anna was seated, Santos looming over her, taunting her. His words were clear from where he and Delacruz watched.
“Can’t wait for the party to start. I’ve been doing a little digging into your personal affairs, and I found some interesting information.” He smirked. “You’re going to watch as I kill both of the men you care about.”
She laughed at him. “No, they’re going to kill you. You’re just a spineless little worm, with no honor.”
Santos backhanded her across the face, snapping her head to the side. And Gray saw red.
Bursting from his hiding place, Gray yelled, “FBI, freeze!”
Petrov leaped behind a table, pulling Anna down as well, and fired. His shot went so wide, Gray couldn’t believe his luck. But there was no time to dwell on that. Santos fired, missing Gray’s head by millimeters. Gray returned fire, but Santos dove to the floor and the tall window behind him shattered, leaving nothing between whoever ventured too close and the pavement fifty-five floors below.
Gray was aware of Delacruz trying to make his way to Anna. So was Santos, who turned and got the man in his sights. Gray ran, leaping at Santos as the bastard fired at Delacruz, and felt the punch in his shoulder. The burn. His gun had fallen from his hand, but he couldn’t stop.
He and Santos rolled together, struggling for the single gun. It was a fight to the death, and if that was the way Santos wanted it, that’s how it would go down. Gray heard Anna scream and realized their fight had carried them to the broken window. They were perilously close to going over, and the idea made him dizzy. Sick.
Out of the corner of his eye, Gray saw Delacruz retrieve Gray’s gun from the floor and point it at Petrov. To his amazement, Petrov raised his hands and yelled, “I’m FBI!”
And in an American accent, no less. Holy crap.
Gray strained to keep Santos from pulling them out the window. The man was out of his mind now, fighting without regard to his own life. He must have sensed he wasn’t going to win.
Suddenly, Delacruz and Petrov were there, helping him. Delacruz wrested the gun from Santos’s grip and flung it far away from them. Petrov was pulling Gray to safety.
And then the unthinkable happened.
Santos got to his knees . . . and shoved Delacruz out the open window. Anna’s bloodcurdling scream was a sound Gray would never forget as he scrambled toward the window. Gray saw Delacruz’s bloodied hands holding on to the lip of the window, but he couldn’t hang on for long. And Santos was trying to dislodge him.
Gray didn’t even think. He simply shoved Santos as hard as possible, and watched him disappear. His scream rode the air, fading as Gray grabbed Joaquin’s wrist.
“Hang on,” he ordered. The other man’s frightened eyes stared up at him. “We’re going to pull you up.”
“You’ll fall,” he shouted. “Just let me go!”
“Not a fucking chance.” His shoulder was killing him.
God, please don’t let me drop him.
Petrov, or whatever the hell his name was, got on the other side of Gray and grabbed Delacruz’s other wrist. They pulled as one, surging backward and yanking Delacruz over the broken glass to safety. The man hissed in pain as the shards ripped at his clothing and skin, but it was better than falling fifty-five stories. For a moment, all of them sat on the floor, panting with residual fear and adrenaline.
Breathing hard, Gray looked at the man he’d thought to be an assassin. “Thanks for the help. So, who the fuck are you?”
“Vance Youngblood, FBI. I’ve been working undercover for over a year to gather enough evidence to hang that prick, and you just killed my assignment.” Then he grinned. “Can’t say I’m all broken up about it.”
Gray laughed, and then groaned in pain. Anna’s hand was suddenly there, soothing his brow.
“Are you—Gray, you’re bleeding!” Her hands shoved at his jacket, and she gasped. “You’ve been shot! We need an ambulance.”
“He too
k that bullet for me,” Delacruz said, moving close. “You saved my life, twice. Thank you, Gray. I won’t forget that.”
Gray. Not Sloane. The distinction wasn’t lost on him, even through the buzzing in his head.
“You’re welcome, Joaquin.”
He vaguely heard his backup arrive—too late. When he saw Simon’s worried face hovering beside Anna’s, he couldn’t help but snort. “Thanks for the help, asshole.”
“Looks like you had it under control,” his partner deadpanned. But Gray could hear the concern in his voice.
Then everything faded and he heard nothing at all.
***
Gray lost consciousness, and Anna shook him. “Gray? Honey, stay awake!”
“He’ll be okay,” Simon told her. “Shoulder wound won’t be too bad.”
“He’s bleeding and unconscious. That’s not okay.”
“I promise he’ll be all right.”
The paramedics arrived and began to work on him, starting an IV. While they worked, Anna looked to Joaquin. “What about you? Let me see your hands.”
“They’re okay.” He tried to hide them, but she pulled them out to inspect his palms. They were a real mess, as was his abdomen, sliced deep and bleeding everywhere. He was going to need stitches, if she had her guess.
“I’m so glad you’re all right. When I thought you’d fallen . . .” She shuddered, never wanting to relive that again.
“I’m glad I am, too. And that you cared.”
“Of course I do. I always will.”
He smiled. “Me too.”
Another pair of paramedics arrived and got busy looking at Joaquin’s hands. The first pair wouldn’t let her ride in the ambulance with Gray, so Simon offered to drive her to the hospital.
She kissed Gray on the forehead. “I love you.” Maybe he heard. She hoped so.
Joaquin left with the second pair. Taking her arm, Simon guided her to where his SUV was waiting next to the curb. They rode in silence, except for when he made a comment here and there. Mostly to repeat that Gray would be fine. And to exclaim that he’d never made “Petrov” as a fellow agent. He speculated aloud that the man would need some mandatory counseling after being deep undercover for so long.
At the hospital, Anna found some chairs, and she and Simon settled in for the wait. Other patients and visitors came and went, but she was hardly aware of their problems when the man she loved was in surgery. Eventually, however, she realized that Joaquin had sat down next to her. He had heavy bandages around both hands and she assumed around his torso as well, from the bulk under his tattered, bloodied shirt. She turned and hugged him.
“Don’t scare me like that again, all right?” She didn’t have to elaborate.
“Don’t worry. I’ve made my last appearance as Spider-Man.”
She and Simon laughed at his terrible joke. It was better than crying over what had almost happened.
It seemed like forever before a doctor in scrubs came out. “Family of Grayson Sloane?”
“That’s us,” Simon told him, taking out his badge. “Or as close as you’ll get, anyway. Agent King, FBI. How’s my partner?”
The doctor hesitated, but in the end the FBI’s clout was enough to sway him. “Agent Sloane came through the surgery just fine.”
Anna almost fainted. Joaquin’s hand on her back kept her from falling.
“I removed the bullet from his shoulder,” the doctor continued. “Nothing but muscle damage, no major organs hit, I’m happy to report. With rest and then some physical therapy on his arm and shoulder, he’ll make a complete recovery.”
“That’s the best fucking news I’ve heard all day.” Simon clapped the doctor on the shoulder. “I hope to hell my partner has used up his quota of being shot.”
Anna winced at the mention of that nightmare, the horrible memories. “When can we see him?”
“He’s in recovery, so not for a while yet. Go rest or get a bite to eat. Come back in a couple of hours and we should have him in a room.”
Happy, Simon sauntered off, muttering about food. Joaquin looked at Anna, and she knew what was coming.
“I’m going to head out, now that I know Gray is going to recover. You’ve got Simon here, and I heard him say your mom is coming to sit with you.”
“You don’t have to leave,” she started, but he shook his head.
“Yes, I do. For my sanity. I’m happy for you, but I can’t help but be reminded that I lost you. I thought I’d found the perfect woman for me. I fell in love with you,” he said, smiling sadly. “We can perhaps be friends one day, but I need to heal.”
“I’d like that. And Joaquin, I—”
“Don’t, sweetheart. Just don’t. You take care, all right? And tell Gray I’ll be back to see him soon.”
“I will.”
He turned, headed out the doors, and was gone. Out of her life, but he’d taken a piece of her heart when he left. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she brushed it off. Straightening her back, she decided it was time to start taking care of her man.
The man she loved with all her soul.
***
Gray knew he made a grumpy patient, but he couldn’t help it. He’d been out of the hospital for a week, and sitting around Anna’s apartment watching TV was starting to get on his nerves. After a couple of days of hovering, he’d convinced her to go back and start putting a few hours in at the restaurant each day.
They were both happier for it. He and Anna were madly in love to the point it nauseated their friends, but they did not do convalescence well. Or at least he didn’t.
The one bright spot was Sterling, who loved to curl up on his lap and purr. Gray liked the little shit, and scratched the kitten’s ears whenever he demanded.
Simon had been in and out, as well as Vance Youngblood. It looked like Vance might join their field office, and that was fine by him and Simon. They really liked him and were more than a little in awe of how the man had posed as a Russian assassin for a year. That was badass.
The key rattled in the doorknob, and Gray smiled at seeing his baby walk through the door. She was all smiles, looking beautiful as she came in and tossed her purse on the table. Then she walked right over and removed Sterling from his warm nest.
“Sorry, kitty. This lap is mine now.”
Carefully, she straddled him and wrapped a hand around him, playing with his hair. Then she gave him a kiss hot enough to awaken his cock from its dormant state and get his blood flowing.
“Mmm. What did I do to deserve that?” he asked, smiling.
“Just being you. Should there be another reason?”
“Judging by the gleam in your eye, I’d say yes. What’s cooking in that sharp brain of yours?”
“Well, I was thinking about something.” She bit her lip, excitement vibrating through her body and doing very nice things to his. “You know, it’s a real pain to have some of our stuff at each other’s places. And we’re always together, anyway.”
His heartbeat quickened. “Yeah. What should we do about that?”
“I . . . I want us to move in together. Either your place or here, I don’t care which. We’d save money, it just makes sense, and—”
“Yes.”
“I—yes?”
“Absolutely. I’d love nothing more than to move in together,” he said, holding her close. Her squeal almost shattered his eardrum, but he laughed. “I guess you’re happy about that?”
“Like you can’t imagine.”
“Oh, I think I can.” He lifted his hips, letting her feel his own excitement.
“What should we do to celebrate?”
“I’d say we’re doing it right now.”
As Anna melted into him, taking his mouth in a slow kiss and the rest of him to heaven, Gray knew he was one lucky man. To have this woman as his, well, the reward
was worth every one of the risks they’d taken.
And now they’d face their future together.
Anna had chosen him for forever, and her love was all he would ever need.
Read on for an excerpt of Jo Davis’s latest book in the Sugarland Blue series
HOT PURSUIT
Available now from Signet Eclipse
God help me, I’m only twenty-eight. Too young to die.
Taylor Kayne bolted upright in bed, bathed in sweat, heart beating a sharp, painful rhythm against his sternum. The ghost sensation of cold steel pressed into the back of his head slowly evaporated, bringing him to wakefulness. Once, the real-life incident that spurred the nightmare had been nicely suppressed and compartmentalized in a tight little box in his brain, but lately it descended with alarming frequency.
Delayed PTSD. Wouldn’t that tidbit give the Sugarland PD’s shrink an orgasm?
Shane Ford, Taylor’s partner in Homicide, would be shocked, too. Shane knew the story of what had happened four years ago, but had no idea the past was riding Taylor hard. Driving him to lose sleep, affecting his appetite, costing him focus at work. And nobody could find out, especially Shane.
Why the hell was this happening now, when his life was mostly together?
Pushing from bed, he stood and shook it off, one more time. One more day. He could do this.
Glancing at the clock, he grimaced. Just shy of five-thirty in the morning. Jesus, that sucked. But since he’d skipped his run for the last few days, he might as well take advantage of the extra hour before he had to get ready for work. He knew he’d feel better once he got his blood pumping, but lately it had been damned hard to get motivated.
“Get your ass moving, slacker,” he muttered to himself.
In less than two minutes he was dressed in jogging pants, a T-shirt, and tennis shoes. Sucking in a deep breath he headed downstairs and out the front door, locking it behind him and then hanging the spare key on a cord around his neck. After tucking it under his shirt, he started off.
Settling into a brisk pace, he regulated his breathing, enjoying the feeling of stretching neglected muscles, his soles hitting the pavement. He loved to run. He wasn’t a fitness nut, not even close, but the fresh air was good for him. Helped him clear his head. Especially in the early summer like now, before the weather turned too hot.