Zero Hour

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Zero Hour Page 26

by Megan Erickson


  Wren trembled, her eyes wide over her hand as she watched Roarke. So Darren might have preyed on young women, but he was taking orders from someone else—Maximus. And a threat from the infamous hacker shouldn’t be taken lightly. He’d crashed a damn helicopter after all, and there were rumors he’d shut down an entire cruise ship in the middle of the Atlantic to gain access to a man on board. A man who was never seen again.

  Roarke said the only thing he knew to say. “Yes.”

  “Great,” Maximus answered. “Maybe one day, we’ll meet. Although then I’d have to kill you.” He laughed, and the line went dead.

  Roarke hung up and tossed the phone onto the counter. Their formerly secure phones were compromised now.

  Erick and Wren repeated his movements, and Wren ran into his arms. “Fiona!” she said. “I don’t trust him not to use her against us. We have to—”

  Roarke’s other cell buzzed in his pocket. He had a text from an unknown number, and all it said was “I’ll take care of her -J.” Roarke showed Wren his phone. “Jock’s protecting her. You know he’s the most qualified.”

  “Where will he take her?” she asked.

  “Knowing Jock, probably a safe house,” Erick said. “No one’s getting past him.”

  Wren relaxed a bit in Roarke’s arms. “I’m not going to relax until I know she’s safe.”

  Roarke rubbed her arms, thinking that this two weeks of peace had been too good to be true. “I’ll ask him to keep us updated.”

  Wren shivered. “We knew Maximus was involved in the zero-day, but I didn’t think the assaults went higher than Darren…”

  “I’ve learned it always goes higher,” Roarke said. “Always.”

  He gripped her face and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “It’s all right, little bird. Let’s enjoy our last couple of days here. Then we’ll check in with Jock and head out to start our next job.”

  He held out his arm for Erick. “Come on, give me a hug, guys. It’ll be okay. We stay out of his business, and he stays out of ours.”

  Erick shuffled toward him, and the three of them snuggled into a three-person hug. “I’m thinking…this might not be the end of our crew.”

  As if in answer, his personal cell beeped.

  You got me if you need me (Marisol)

  I’m happy for you to be more indebted to me (Dade)

  Roarke laughed. “Good to know. We’ve already worked out the kinks in the first mission, right? I’m sure the next one will be smooth sailing.”

  Erick gave him a suffering look, and Wren raised a suspicious eyebrow.

  “Herding cats,” Wren muttered.

  In the future, the driving force behind any mission would be protection—of Roarke’s new life, which he cherished. He’d choose defending something over wanting revenge any day. Apparently being in love suited him well. Flynn would be so proud.

  Acknowledgments

  This series is a long time coming, and to finally see it in book form on a bookshelf takes my breath away. Thank you so much to my agent, Marisa Corvisiero, who never gave up on this book and worked tirelessly to find it a perfect home.

  Thank you to Alex Logan, who saw something special in this ragtag team of keyboard warriors and was willing to give them (and me!) a shot. Your edits were spot-on and I feel so lucky to work with you, as well as the entire Forever team.

  Thank you to my writer friends, who helped me on perfecting the plot, pitch, and first couple of chapters—AJ Pine, Natalie Blitt, and Lia Riley. I couldn’t do this without you ladies. AJ, you are the blurb whisperer! Santino Hassell, thank you for always being there for me and for helping me to “grit up” this manuscript! (Take a shot, haha.) Thank you to Keyanna Butler. You did so much for me with this book, and your encouragement, friendship, and assistant tasks are essential to me.

  Thank you to all the members of Meg’s Mob—I love you all. So much. You make me so happy every day, and you are the corner of the Internet where I go to smile. I hope I return the favor. And thank you to all my readers, who follow me no matter what I write. I don’t deserve you!

  I have to thank my husband, Neal, for being an inspiration to me to write this book. You and I met online fifteen years ago, and the first time I ever saw you in person, you were typing on a keyboard. Four years of college with you were full of me delivering you food and coffee while you pulled all-nighters to work on programming projects. I am always amazed at how freaking brilliant you are. Thank you for sitting with me and pouring over the details of the book, especially when I was so tired, I couldn’t even remember what a USB port was called (that plug thingy?).

  Thank you to my family, who supports me 100 percent in all I do. Thanks to my parents, and my kids, for putting up with my scattered brain, and when I stare off into the distance because I’m working out a plot problem in my head.

  And last, but not least, Andi—you’ll never be one of the little people. I love you.

  During college, Fiona was drugged and kidnapped by men who did unspeakable things. She’s tried to put the past behind her but she’s started to wonder if someone is watching her…

  Jamison “Jock” Bosh has been sent to protect Fiona—because he knows the threat is real.

  A preview of Darkest Night—the next book in the Wired & Dangerous series—follows.

  The humidity was so thick that Fiona could barely breathe. Add to that the ever-present Brooklyn smell of meat and spices, plus the exhaust from way too many vehicles, and she was about done.

  As she ducked her head and speed-walked up the street to her apartment, she felt naked without her constant canine companion. She hadn’t brought Cas, which was stupid, but the grocery order she’d placed had come in, and her usual delivery person wasn’t available. She hadn’t wanted a stranger at the door so she’d gone to pick it up. Juggling groceries and her dog sounded difficult at the time. Now she wished she’d brought him. At least she had protection in her purse.

  She thanked her workout routine for her arm strength, but even this far of a walk was taxing as she regripped her bag and continued on. Despite the low crime rate of the neighborhood, she didn’t feel safe. She hadn’t felt safe for over ten years. She’d probably never feel safe again.

  “Calm your shit, Fi,” she whispered to herself as she blinked sweat out of her eyes and squinted at the glare of the evening sun. She’d give just about anything to head to the park down the street, to read her book there on a bench without a care in the world, but she didn’t know what that was like. Maybe she’d try with Cas by her side.

  She passed an alley, and a chain-link fence rattled. Her steps faltered and her stomach cramped with nerves. No no no. No way would she be caught out here like this, on a hot night with a clear sky, carrying produce. Had she really needed fresh vegetables that bad? She couldn’t have lived on canned goods for a while?

  She picked up the pace, and by the time she turned the corner two blocks away, she was winded and all her senses were on alert. She hadn’t had this instinct ten years ago, but now it was in full-alarm mode, blaring in her brain, coursing through her blood stream like a shot of adrenaline.

  She tried to calm herself by thinking about the book she’d just read, but even an eighteenth-century widow and cowboy finding love wasn’t enough to take her mind off whatever the hell was moving in the corner of her vision.

  Something was there—alive. And that something could range from a rat to a kid to an adult intent on doing her harm.

  Another block. Close to home. People here kept to themselves, and the last thing she needed was attention or someone calling the cops. A cat screeched and sprinted out of an alley, just as a human-shaped shadow melted back into the darkness.

  Nope, that was enough.

  She drew her gun, silencer attached, and pointed it at the dark alley. “Who’s there?” No answer, not even a breeze. But something had scared the cat, and she’d seen the shadow. “I have a gun. Tell me who you are before I start shooting.”

  A rustle followe
d her words, the sound of shoes scuffing on macadam and stepping on trash, and then a figure emerged from the alley. Her eyes adjusted to take in a massive man—tall, broad-shouldered, and scowling, and that was all she fucking needed to know.

  She pulled the trigger.

  The bullet whizzed by the man’s head, and he jerked to the side, his hand coming up quickly to cup his ear. “Fuck, woman!”

  He pulled his lips back in a grimace, and she should have felt bad, but it’d been only a warning shot. She hadn’t hit him.

  He dropped his hand, and dark red blood dripped from his earlobe. Okay, whoops? She’d tried to miss.

  Still, she didn’t drop the gun. What normal person skulked around in an alley? None. “What do you want?” she asked, trying to control the shaking in her voice. “Next time I won’t miss.”

  He held his hands out to his sides, palms facing her, and his expression looked bored. “Put the gun away.”

  “You’re not in a position to make demands.”

  “You just shot me in broad daylight.”

  “I’d call this dusk, to be honest.”

  His eyes narrowed slightly, and she wondered why he didn’t look more scared. Oh shit, were there more of him? More big-ass dudes lurking in the shadows? She took her eyes off him for a minute and glanced around.

  Big mistake. Huge.

  For such a large man, he moved with a quickness that caught her off guard. He had the gun out of her hands and his beefy arms wrapped around her body within seconds, incapacitating her.

  Her heart beat against her rib cage like it was prison bars, which only made her feel more trapped, as she was pressed against the man’s body, her back to his front and well within the shadows of the alley.

  She had a Taser and pepper spray in her purse, but she couldn’t get to it, not with the man squeezing her. She couldn’t cry. Not now. Tears would get her nowhere. Hell, they’d never even got her out of a speeding ticket.

  “Fiona.” His voice was deep, and the rumble in his chest vibrated her back. He knew her name, and the only answer that gave her was that she was fucked. She closed her eyes and swallowed, taking the time to gather some strength before she went full on wildcat to get out of his grip. He took a deep breath. “I’m friends with Wren.”

  Her eyes flew open, and she stared out into the street. Those were not the four words she’d thought he’d say. She tried not to react, not to show that she knew Wren, in case he was feeling her out. “What?”

  “Wren Lee, Korean American. Parents live in Erie. Brother’s name is Erick. You and her went to school together.”

  She wasn’t prepared for this kind of conversation. She assumed, if they ever found her, they’d kill her on the spot. “I’m sorry, what?”

  Another sigh. “Not going to hurt you. Will you promise to stay put if I let you go?”

  She snorted. “No.” Then she clacked her jaw shut. Shit, she was stupid. She couldn’t have just said yes?

  He paused for a minute and made a huffing sound that might have been a laugh. “You shot my ear. Think you owe me five minutes without running. Not. Going. To. Hurt. You. Okay?”

  His arms loosened and blood rushed back into her hands. She curled her fingers into fists and waited until the heat of his body left her back. Then she whirled around and clutched her purse to her body. She had her pepper spray pulled out and pointed at him just as he pulled a cell phone from his pocket.

  He arched a blond eyebrow at her but didn’t make a big deal about the pepper spray canister in his face.

  He pressed a button and waited, never taking his eyes off her. “Put Wren on” were the first words he said into the receiver. Then after ten seconds, all he said was “Made contact.” Then handed the phone to her.

  She looked at it, then at him, and then back to the phone.

  “Probably have to put the pepper spray away to talk in the phone,” he said slowly, like she was a scared deer.

  She shoved it back into her purse and snatched the phone from him. “Hello?” she said into the receiver.

  “Fiona.”

  The word was a gasp, and Fiona blinked at the brick wall, processing the fact that she hadn’t heard her friend’s voice in nearly a decade. “Wren?”

  “I don’t even know what to say right now. I wasn’t prepared…what happened? Did someone try to hurt you?”

  “Uh, I shot some guy.” That was all she managed to be able to say as she stared at the man in front of her, standing with his hands on his hips, blood dripping from his ear.

  “You shot someone?” Wren asked.

  “The guy who handed me the phone?”

  “You shot Jock?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t introduce himself! He was hiding in an alley like a creepy person, and I freaked out and shot him.”

  “Is he okay?” Wren’s voice was reaching screech decibels.

  “Fine,” the man, who Fiona assumed was Jock, muttered loud enough for the phone to pick up.

  “It’s like…his ear, I think. I meant to miss, honestly.”

  “Kinda proud of you. I like knowing you’re up there capable of defending yourself.” There was a smile in Wren’s voice, and Fiona’s heart ached. She missed girls’ nights out. All the things that came from talking woman-to-woman with someone who knew you better than anyone else. She’d had that one time with Wren.

  But that was before…before everything.

  “So can you tell me…”

  “Oh, right,” Wren cleared her throat. “So that’s Jock, and you can trust him. He’s been there for about a week watching out for you…” Her voice changed, and Fiona braced herself. “I can explain, or Jock can, but we have reason to believe they are looking for you.”

  Fiona’s throat constricted, and a panic attack, which she hadn’t had in years, which Cas could placate if he were there, threatened to drown her. She flared her nostrils, seeking more oxygen just as the edges of her vision began to blur. Fuck, fuck, all of this just for some fucking kale…

  Arms were around her again, but this time they weren’t contracting. There was something else about them, something that didn’t elevate the panic attack but certainly didn’t make it better. Wren was still talking, her voice sounding more frantic. Then the phone was out of her hand, and a deep voice murmured some words.

  Fiona’s legs buckled, and she wanted to cry for being this weak, for being unable to handle this news. She’d feared this for so long and knew it could happen but the actual truth was too much.

  She never hit the ground though, despite her body giving out. She was airborne, and although that deep voice was no longer in her ear, a warm body was cradling hers. Her fingers slipped into coarse hair, and she held on, not sure where she was being taken, but Wren’s words telling her she could trust this giant of a man were repeated in her mind.

  Trust him. When was the last time she’d trusted anyone but herself?

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Megan Erickson is a USA Today bestselling author of romance that sizzles. Her books have a touch of nerd, a dash of humor, and always have a happily ever after. A former journalist, she switched to fiction when she decided she likes writing her own endings better.

  She lives in Pennsylvania with her very own nerdy husband and two kids. Although rather fun-sized, she’s been told she has a full-sized personality. When Megan isn’t writing, she’s either lounging with her two cats named after John Hughes characters or…thinking about writing.

  Learn more at:

  meganerickson.org

  Twitter @MeganErickson_

  Facebook.com/meganjerickson

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