by Liliana Hart
The last man came in low and fast and caught her around the middle, but the balance of the chair tied to her leg threw them both off and gave her time for her fingers to find the pressure points in his neck and render him unconscious.
His body collapsed on top of hers, releasing the air in her lungs in a great whoosh so she had to fight to suck in another breath. Her ankle was throbbing and her jaw sore, and who knew how many other little aches and pains would make themselves known in the next few hours.
She shoved the body aside and untied the remaining rope from around her ankle, flexing it quickly before she rolled to stand on her feet. Time was of the essence. There would be more Russians to deal with, and the ones littering the ground around her would be waking before too long. Except for Alexsei, whose eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.
It was up to her to find Jonah and see if she could put a stop to his insanity. And if she had to save his life to do so, then so be it. She could always kill him after she had the codes to disarm the explosives on the tankers. She was still the best person for the job to find him and corner him like the rabid animal he was.
Audrey leaned down and searched the body nearest to her, relieving him of the gun and knife he’d confiscated from her earlier. Her back was to the door, and though she didn’t hear a sound, she knew someone was there—could feel their presence in the shift in the air—and the little prickles of awareness rolled across her skin.
Without warning, she turned and aimed the gun at the intruder. A quirked eyebrow and a cocky grin were all she got in return, and he immediately held his hands up in a sign of peace.
“Don’t shoot,” he said, the humor still lurking.
She recognized him for what he was—trained to fight. The only question was, who was he fighting for?
He was several inches taller than she was, with the kind of light blond hair that most women could only achieve with a bottle, but she could tell his was perfectly natural. Thick brows were a shade darker in color, and even from where she stood she could see his eyes were as dark as her own. It was an unusual combination. An arresting combination that made her distrust her instincts.
His body was lean and muscled, and he wore black BDUs and a black jacket very similar to her own. He carried himself like a man who was familiar with every aspect of his body, comfortable in his own skin, and confident in what he could do with the muscles beneath.
He was balanced on the balls of his feet and she knew he wouldn’t make it easy for her if she decided to fight her way out.
“Well,” he said, looking at the scatter of bodies. “This is a hell of a mess. I hope you left at least one of them alive.” He started to drop his hands back to his sides.
“Keep your hands up,” she demanded, keeping the gun trained on him.
His grin got wider and a flutter of a dimple teased one side of his mouth, but he didn’t keep his hands raised. “I’ve never been very good at following orders. You won’t shoot me.”
“I just pulled the trigger on a man who probably thought much the same thing. Why is it that men always underestimate what a woman is capable of?”
His face turned serious and a little bit grim. “I’ve read your file. I would never think of underestimating you.” He said it with such conviction she thought he actually might be telling the truth.
“You’re agency then,” she nodded, as if her suspicions were suddenly confirmed. “I’m not interested in coming back. Sorry you had to make the trip. But you’re going to want to get out of my way. I’m in a hurry.”
“I guess it’s a good thing I’m here to help you. I’ve been known to move fast from time to time.”
“I don’t need help. And if you don’t move aside I’m going to put a bullet in you just on principle.”
“That would make my daughter unhappy. She doesn’t like it when I get shot.”
Audrey let out a sigh and let the gun drop down to her side. “You’re determined to be a pain in the ass, aren’t you?”
“I guess that’s why my boss sent me for you. Though I don’t know what the hell Declan hopes to do with you. And I overheard enough of the conversation between you and your comrades to know you’re going to need help. As far as everyone on the planet is concerned, Jonah Salt died in France. You, me, and the Russians are the only ones who know differently. Tracking Jonah Salt won’t be a cakewalk. But I can help you.”
“You said Declan.” Her gaze narrowed on him. “Declan MacKenzie?”
“Good,” he nodded. “It helps speed things up that you’ve heard of him.”
“Of course I’ve heard of him. Even when I was Mossad I knew who he was. Not to mention he’s been trying to track me down for the last year or so. And damned if he’s not persistent. He’s left messages for me all over hell and back to return his calls. He’s a hard man to ignore. But I managed.”
“I’ll make sure to tell him someone was successful at it,” he said dryly.
Her lips wanted to twitch at the obvious good humor on the man’s face when he spoke of Declan, but she forced herself to remain impassive. Emotions had no place in the field. That’s what had gotten her into trouble the last time.
“Make yourself useful and help me tie them up. I’d like to get at least a little bit of a head start before they come after me.”
“I live to serve,” he said dryly, but there was such a wicked look of intent in his eyes she had to break contact.
The heat rushed to her cheeks and she figured it was a hell of a time for her body to remember that she was still a woman. It had been three years since she’d had a reaction like that, and she wasn’t all that sure it was a welcome feeling. Emotions of any kind distracted from the job. Emotions could get a person killed.
Audrey held the gun on him as he made short work of binding the Russians’ hands and feet, and then she made a motion with her weapon for him to move back outside. She leaned down and grabbed her jacket and then followed behind him, keeping her weapon ready just in case her instincts were off and he really was there to kill her. But her gut wasn’t tingling, and she thought he might really be there to do as he said.
Once they were outside and a good distance away from the warehouse, he turned and leaned casually against the hood of a Jeep.
“So why did the great Declan MacKenzie send you to find me?” she asked.
“You’ve just been recruited by MacKenzie Security. Congratulations and welcome to the team. And I wouldn’t even consider saying no. If you know Dec’s reputation then you know he pretty much always gets what he wants. I’m sure there’s some kind of paperwork you’ll need to fill out. Life insurance policies and all that,” he said, grinning. “But as of this moment you’re on payroll, so it’s probably a good thing you only killed one of those Russians.”
Audrey narrowed her eyes and tried to sift through all the possible scenarios of what could happen. And then she decided maybe she could use this man’s help after all. At least for a little while. MacKenzie Security had a hell of a lot of power and unlimited resources.
“Do you have a name, or are you just Declan MacKenzie’s mouthpiece?”
“Archer Ryan,” he said, holding out a hand for her to shake. “And sweetheart, I’m nobody’s mouthpiece.”
Before Audrey had time to blink he moved in fast, twisting the gun out of her hand. She countered the move, pivoting in the opposite direction. Their bodies were close enough that she could feel the heat of his body as they went through the dance of close combat. He hit the small button on the side of the gun while she still held it and the magazine dropped into his hand. He pulled back the slide and ejected the bullet, letting it fall silently into the snow. Both of her arms were restrained and she was left defenseless—not unless she wanted to really hurt him—and the entire time he never once took his eyes from hers.
Her breath came in short pants as she felt the familiar connection between a man and a woman—the tingles of attraction that pebbled the skin and heated the blood. She felt the blood drain
from her face and she immediately released her hold on the gun and fought to get out of his grasp. She wanted no part of any connection unless it helped her reach her goal of finding Jonah.
Archer immediately let her go and looked at her curiously. He held the gun out to her, butt end first. “You ready to go?” he asked as if nothing was out of the normal.
Audrey took the gun and then held her hand out for the magazine, wondering if he’d give it to her. He placed it in her hand, looking at her with those dark eyes, and trusting her not to kill him. She wasn’t sure if she could’ve done the same. So she took the magazine and popped it back in before returning the weapon to the small of her back.
And then she did what she’d swore she’d never do again—take on another partner. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Shane MacKenzie was finished. Finished with hospitals and the nurses who looked at him with sympathy instead of the flirtatious glances he was used to getting from women. He was sick of the doctors and the blood tests. And most of all, he was fucking sick of physical therapy.
They’d had him up and moving around for the last three weeks, giving him pats on the back and pushing him on with excitement tinged voices filled with false encouragement, like he was a fucking kid learning how to ride a bike for the first time.
The humiliation of having to be propped up and coddled every step of the way burned in his guts until he wanted to put his fist through the damned wall. They told him he’d have to use the crutches until he was ready to be fit for a prosthetic. The swelling in his leg hadn’t gone down as they’d hoped yet, so the process had been delayed. His other leg was whole, but every time he put his full weight down it felt as if someone was driving a hot poker through the bottom of his foot and up his leg.
But they still yelled encouragement and made him walk on it. And because he didn’t want to disappoint his family—who always managed to show up when he’d prefer to be alone—he gritted his teeth and did what he was told. And he hated it. Hated each and every one of those people smiling at him and pushing him forward.
They told him he was lucky because his body was strong and that would help him get back to a hundred percent faster. But he knew he’d never be a hundred percent again. Every word of praise out of their mouths was a fucking lie and he was sick of it all. He wanted to be left alone.
Shane ripped the medical tape from the back of his hand and pulled out the IV, tossing it on the bed. He pulled off the pulse monitor on his finger, not caring that the little machine by his head started the incessant beeping that drove him insane.
He lowered the bed rail and tossed back the covers. It still took him by surprise to see empty space where his leg should have been. They’d cut one leg off of his sweats so he wouldn’t trip on the flapping cloth during PT, and a white bandaged stub was all that could be seen. His heart pumped a little faster at the reminder, and the anger that had been festering the last couple of weeks since he’d started physical therapy made his hands shake with rage.
His crutches rested against the wall near his bed, not close enough to reach out and grab, but surely he could manage to hobble a few steps to reach them. And then he was going to put clothes on and catch the first cab out of this place. He was done.
He tossed his legs over the side of the bed, and already beads of sweat were breaking out over his skin at the exertion. God, if his fucking SEAL team could see him now they’d probably laugh their asses off at how weak he was.
A sock covered his remaining foot and he placed it on the floor, putting a little bit of his weight on it. His fingers dug into the side of the bed but he pushed through and stood, wobbling like a newborn colt as he tried to manage his pain. That’s what they kept telling him, over and over again. That he just needed to learn how to manage his pain. Well it was a lot fucking easier to manage the pain with the Percocet they doled out so stingily.
He held himself steady using the bedrail for support and held his other hand out toward the wall, stretching to see if he could reach the crutches without having to move. Sweat dripped from his brow with the exertion and his skin felt as if it were being stretched over a hot flame.
Shane hobbled on his good foot, each bounce making the pins in his leg feel like knives. He tasted blood and realized he’d bitten the inside of his cheek to keep quiet through the pain. His fingers brushed the top of one of the crutches and he almost laughed with relief.
“Come on, come on,” he whispered. His fingers nudged the crutch again, pulling it forward so he could catch it. But just as it fell forward his leg gave out. There was no warning. One moment he was standing and the next he was on the ground, the crutches falling to land on top of him as if by some cruel joke.
“Goddammit!” He threw the crutch closest to him at the wall, taking out a lamp and a potted plant that the nurses insisted on watering every damned day. Tears of frustration and pain filled his eyes and he rolled to his side. He took the other crutch and slammed it against the equipment placed around his bed, toppling carts and stands to the ground. At least he still had strength somewhere in his body.
“Oh, God. Shane.”
The voice of his mother had him pulling back his temper, but God, he wished she’d just go away. She gasped and he realized he’d said the words out loud. He immediately felt shitty for saying it, and it wasn’t like he could take the words back.
“Go away. Leave me alone,” he said softly.
“Mom,” Declan came in the room behind her and put a hand on her shoulder, holding her back from rushing to her youngest son. “Go grab a cup of coffee for a minute or two.”
“Dec.” She shook her head in warning, looking back and forth between her boys.
“Go, Mom. It’ll be fine. I promise.”
“Both of you just get the fuck out!” he screamed, rolling to his stomach so he could prop himself up, though he probably looked like a fish out of water, flopping around on the damned floor.
“Don’t you talk to me like that, Shane MacKenzie. I don’t care how hurt you are. I raised you better than that.” His mother’s voice was like a whip against his skin and he could hear the hurt he’d caused.
“I’m sorry, Mom.” He dropped his head to the carpet and tried to catch his breath. “I really am. But please go for a little while.”
He heard the door close and used his arms to push himself up to face his brother. He knew Dec well enough to know that he’d go as soon as he damn well felt like it. Nothing and no one pushed Dec around, especially his brothers. Well, maybe Cade, but that’s only because Cade was the oldest and had a head as hard as a rock and a black temper to go with it. Though he’d mellowed considerably since he’d become a husband and a father.
“How stubborn are you going to be about this?” Dec asked, coming closer. “Are you going to insist on doing this yourself or will you let me help you?”
Shane turned his head and looked at his brother. There was no judgment in Declan’s eyes. No pity or sympathy. His face was as impassive as always.
“If you want to help you’ll get me the hell out of this place. I want to go home to my own bed and own space. I’m tired of being poked and prodded. I just want everyone to leave me alone.”
“All right then,” Dec said. “I’ll make it happen if you promise to keep seeing the physical therapist when she makes house calls.”
“You need to leave me alone right now, Dec. Go make whatever calls you have to and get me out, but leave me the hell alone before I hurt you or someone else. I’m not fit for company at the moment.”
Shane continued to push himself to a sitting position and then he grabbed hold of the bedrails, his muscles straining as he lifted himself back up into the bed. “And as you can see, I can take care of myself.”
“So it appears,” Dec conceded. “But I’ll be damned if any of us are going to leave you alone like you want. Get mad. Throw a couple of punches at me and Cade and Grant if it’ll make you feel better. It’s nothing we can’t handle. And you prob
ably deserve a fist in the jaw for the look you just put on Mom’s face.”
Shane collapsed against the bed, his skin and sweats soaked with perspiration, and he closed his eyes against the frustration and anger that hadn’t found an outlet yet.
“I apologized,” he said, the guilt eating at him. “But why can’t you fucking listen? I said go away and leave me the hell alone. I’ve had it up to my eyeballs with MacKenzies.”
“I’ll go get the release paperwork started, but I’ll be back. You’re stuck with us whether you want us or not. You’ve been a MacKenzie all your life, so you know none of us are going anywhere.”
“Fucking fantastic. Close the door behind you.”
Dec headed back to the door and started to pull it closed on his way out. But he stopped and stuck his head back in. “I’m glad you’re angry, Shane. You want to know why?”
“Not really, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
Dec grunted in what might have been amusement. “Angry means you’re not dead. Maybe you should think about that.”
CHAPTER SIX
Cold winds blew bitterly, cutting straight through the body and into the soul. Still, Audrey preferred the Alaska cold over Russia any day of the week. There was a wild, untamed beauty about the land that inspired a mix of awe, fear, and respect.
Rolling hills of white went for as far as the eye could see, and in the background were snowy mountains that peaked straight into the clouds. Frozen rivers and streams jutted off in all directions, and she bet it was beautiful once the weather warmed and there was color. But for now it was a frozen palace of snow and ice, isolating and eerily quiet in its solitude.
There was nothing but solitude.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” she said as Archer retraced their route back to the docks where she’d been taken—where she’d fired the shot at Jonah. “There’s so much empty space here. It’s the perfect place to disappear. And it’s snowing again. If we don’t hurry all the tracks will be gone.”