by Cynthia Eden
“He was a good cop. I worked with him and Michelle for years. He’s never been on the take before. He’s been solid.” Cain had pulled out his phone, too, only to reveal that it was smashed and nearly just as melted as Victor’s.
Hell. “He’s not solid any longer.” Victor turned away from the fire and started walking down the street. “He’s a soon to be dead man.” Roy has hurt her. He hurt my Zoe. In the distance, sirens screamed. Someone had finally noticed the giant ball of flames shooting into the sky. About time. He looked down at his hands and saw that they were shaking. Rage beat in his blood, a dark fury that he’d never felt before.
And fueling that fury?
Fear.
I have to find her. She has to stay alive.
He kept walking down that street.
I need her.
***
She hurt.
It felt like a hammer had slammed into her head. Over and over again.
Zoe cracked open one eye. Then the other. She tried to move her body, but found she was tied, hand and foot, as she lay in a sagging bed. Frantic, she looked around her—saw the yellowed walls, the faded furniture. Broken blinds were over the lone window.
Another no-tell motel. Why do I keep winding up in these places?
Sunlight poured onto the bed—and her. Bright light that told her a whole lot of time had passed since the fire.
The door opened. A brown motel room door.
Zoe tried to speak when she saw Roy standing there, but a gag was in her mouth. A rough, nasty-tasting cloth that had been shoved into her mouth and tied behind her head—she could feel the knot pressing back there from the cloth.
With a long sigh, Roy shut the door. Then he leaned back against it, staring at her. “Stop looking at me like that,” he said, actually sounding offended. “It’s not like I’m a bad guy.”
Victor. Had Victor gotten out of the fire? Frantic mumbles came from behind her gag.
“It’s not even the two million that tempted me. I mean, I wouldn’t turn you over just for that. I’m not a monster.”
Victor! Where was Victor?
“It’s for her.” He took a few steps forward, moving closer to the bed. “I can’t let Michelle die.” His clothes were covered in ash. “I know I can get her back. If I offer you up, then he’ll give Michelle back to me. He’ll make the trade.”
She shook her head.
“You’re just not worth what she is, not to me.”
He really loves Michelle. That part wasn’t an act.
“So I’m getting her out, and if you have to die for that to happen, well, then it just fucking happens.”
Her frantic mumbles sounded once more.
“I don’t want to have to knock you out again,” he said. “I don’t like hurting women.”
What?
“So just stay quiet until I can figure out how to work the trade, all right? The motel is deserted this time of day, anyway. You’re not going to get some big rescue.” He ran a hand over his face. “No one is coming for you. Let’s just try to make this as painless as possible.”
He was insane. She wasn’t about to make her death easy.
“I’m going to shower.” He turned away. “I smell like fire.” Roy yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor. Then the guy just—left her. He went into the bathroom, shut the door, and the roar of water reached her ears.
Victor. I have to find Victor.
She waited just a moment, trying to give Roy time to actually get his sorry ass into the shower. That way, he’s less likely to hear what I’m about to do. She counted in her head, and when she got to one hundred…Zoe rolled. She rolled her body right off that bed and she hit the floor with a hard thump.
Her gaze jerked toward the bathroom door. Still shut. The water was still pounding down. Good sign.
She twisted her body, contorting easily. Did Roy have any idea how many dance and gymnastics classes that she’d taken over the years? It was all too easy for her to drag her bound hands under her ass and then around her now up-drawn knees. Soon her bound hands were yanking at the gag, getting that thing out of her mouth. She licked her lips, moved her swollen tongue, and then she tried to figure out her next move.
Cut the ropes. Find something to cut these damn ropes so I can get free.
Only no weapon was around. Then fine, screw it, she’d get out of there still bound. She was not going to be in that room when the guy came out of the bathroom. She had to take small, mincing steps with her feet bound, but Zoe slowly made her way to the door. One step. Another. Closer and closer.
But fear beat at her every moment. Not fear for herself. For Victor. Had he gotten out of the fire?
What if he hadn’t? What if Victor had died in those flames? Died hours ago while she’d been knocked out and tied up in that bed? What if he was gone?
I’m not ready for that. I’m not ready to lose him.
Hell, no, she wasn’t.
Zoe was almost at the door. Almost there.
The shower turned off.
Oh, God…
***
“Which fucking room is his?” Victor demanded as he slammed his fist down on the counter in front of the front desk clerk.
The guy flinched and his shaking fingers typed faster on the computer keyboard.
“Easy,” Cain muttered.
Easy? There was nothing easy about the way he felt right now. The firefighters and the cops had finally gotten to them, and then they’d launched an all-points bulletin for Roy.
Only that shit hadn’t been enough. And Victor hadn’t wanted to just sit on his ass while Zoe was possibly being killed. So he’d called in favors and gotten more tech help.
Maybe Roy thought he was dead. Maybe the guy thought that both he and Cain had perished in the fire. That had probably been his plan. With both of them dead, who would be around to point the finger at Roy?
So the guy had left the scene, feeling all fucking confident. Confident enough that he’d been using his phone…
Your mistake. Your latest one, bastard.
Because one of Victor’s favors involved getting a track on that phone. As soon as Roy used it, the signal had been triangulated. They’d found the jerk.
He was at the little motel on the outskirts of Vegas, and he’d better have Zoe with him. She’d better be alive. She’d—
“Room s-seven,” the front desk clerk stuttered. “On the side of the motel, room seven—”
Victor was already running away. His gun was in his hand—a new gun, courtesy of the Vegas PD. His other weapon had been lost in the flames.
He rushed around the side of the building just as the door to room seven opened.
Wide green eyes stared at him in shock. Beautiful, unforgettable green eyes. Zoe.
“Victor…” She didn’t make a sound, but he read his name on her lips.
And then…then she was jerked back. Her bound hands flew up into the air and the door slammed shut.
Oh, the hell, no.
***
“You tricky little bitch…” Roy had thrown her across the room, sending her into a heap near the foot of the bed. “Thought you’d just walk right out the door?” His back was to said door as he closed in on her. “I knew I should have knocked your ass out again.”
She shook her head, tossing the hair out of her eyes. Then she smiled at him.
He stilled. “Why the hell are you doing that?”
“Because…”
The door burst open behind Roy and chunks of broken wood hurtled through the air.
“Victor got out of the fire,” she finished.
“Get the hell away from her!” Victor bellowed.
Roy spun around. He didn’t have a gun on him—the guy just had a towel wrapped around his hips. Water dripped down his body. He must have raced out of that shower when he’d heard the front door open. She’d known that sound had been too loud.
Cain ran in behind Victor, gasping. “So much for waiting on me…”
“Cain!” Roy staggered back a step. “You’re okay! Good! Oh, shit, man, she started the fire. She tried to kill us all! I think she must be working with her father. I had to tie her up, to restrain her, I was about to call in backup when—”
“I saw you.” Cain’s glare was cold. Deadly. “I saw you attempt to shoot Special Agent Monroe, and I saw you hit Zoe before you took her out of that building.”
Roy’s body stiffened.
“So save the excuses,” Cain blasted. “You’re under arrest.”
“I did it for Michelle!” Roy screamed. “If we want to ever see her again, we have to give that bastard what he wants—and that’s Zoe! Not like she matters anyway. She—”
Victor attacked. He literally flew at Roy, and they slammed into the nearest wall. Roy tried to block Victor’s blows, but that wasn’t happening. Victor hit him again and again, and the sickening thud of his fists connecting with Roy’s face had Zoe crying out.
“Stop, Victor! Stop!”
“She matters.”
Cain had to drag Victor off the smaller guy. Roy fell into a heap on the floor.
“She matters,” Victor spat the words again, then he spun to face Zoe.
She stared at him a moment, seeing his rage. Such a hot, hard fury. His whole body was tense and danger emanated from him on waves. This wasn’t some good guy. The controlled agent she knew was nowhere to be seen, but she wasn’t afraid. Not of him.
Zoe lifted her bound hands toward him. “Victor, get me out of here.”
He strode toward her. Yanked at the rope that bound her hands. Jerked it hard.
Uniformed cops spilled into the little room. One of them cuffed Roy. Another handed Victor a knife. He sliced through the ropes that bound her wrists. Pinpricks shot through her fingers. She hadn’t even realized how tight the ropes were, not until then. Victor bent, then cut through the ropes that bound her feet. When the last rope broke, relief swept through her and she trembled.
Victor picked her up in his arms.
“No! I can walk!” Her tremble hadn’t been about weakness. It had just been about her being grateful to be free.
But Victor didn’t let her go. His hold tightened as he carried her out of that motel room. She looked back and saw a bruised and battered Roy—glaring after them. Glaring with the one eye that wasn’t already swollen shut. Cain was reading the guy his rights, appearing absolutely enraged and disgusted, but still doing things by-the-book.
The sunlight was too bright outside. The air too cold.
Victor walked her toward a dark SUV. He opened the passenger side door and eased her inside. Then he just…stood there, his shoulders hunched and his head lowered.
Hesitantly, her hand rose and touched his chest. “Victor?”
“I thought you were dead.” His voice was different. Colder. Raspier. “When I woke up, and the building was on fire and you weren’t there…I thought you were dead.”
“I was afraid you were dying in there,” she whispered back. “I tried to get you out. I’m so sorry…”
His head snapped up. “You’re sorry?”
Zoe nodded.
“You’re sorry?”
Once more, slowly, she nodded. “I wanted to get you out. If he hadn’t hit me with the gun, I would have—”
Victor backed away. He slammed the door shut. Paced. Paced some more. Tossed a glare her way.
Her hands twisted together. She rubbed at her bruised wrists.
Then he was marching around the SUV. Jumping inside the vehicle. He cranked it with a hard, angry twist of his hand. But then he stilled. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”
Zoe watched him.
“I let you down. I was supposed to keep you safe. Instead, I lost you.”
“Victor…”
His head turned toward her, and the shield that was normally in place—the guard that stopped her from reading the emotions in his eyes—it was gone. Fury and pain and longing blazed at her. “I was scared.”
“Me, too.”
“I don’t get scared. I get pissed. That’s my way. But it was different with you. You’re different. You made me different.”
Was that good or bad? He made it sound bad.
“I couldn’t find you fast enough. Couldn’t get to you soon enough. And when I saw Roy…” He flexed his hands. “I wanted to rip him apart.”
She reached out and touched his right hand. Her fingers slid across the faint scars on his knuckles. “I’m okay.”
“This time. But what about next time? It has to stop.” He gave a grim shake of his head. “It has to fucking stop.” Then he shifted the vehicle and drove out of that lot with a squeal of tires.
Chapter Eleven
She’s not dead. She’s safe. Zoe’s with me.
The elevator doors opened with a soft ding. Victor made sure that he stepped out first. They were back in Drake’s hotel, back on what should have been a secure floor, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
The area was empty, so he caught Zoe’s hand and led her forward. She’d been silent during their trek back to the fancy hotel, a trek that had included a pit stop at the hospital so she could be checked out.
She’d glared during that process, muttering about just having bruises, but he’d wanted to be absolutely certain she was okay.
A concussion. The bastard gave her a concussion. And she’s got black bands of bruises around her wrists and ankles.
Victor unlocked the door. He just wanted to get her inside and pull her into his arms. And what was up with that? He was hardly the coddling type.
He opened the suite door and ushered her inside.
“Slipping out at night, coming in long past dawn…This is hardly the way to keep a low profile…” At that low, mocking voice, Victor’s body immediately went into battle mode. He pushed Zoe behind him and had his gun out in two seconds.
Drake raised his brows as he sat on the couch, not looking properly intimated. Did the guy just always get guns aimed at him? Was that why he was acting as if nothing new were happening at that moment?
“What the hell are you doing in here?” Victor demanded.
“It’s my hotel.” Drake kept lounging. “When you didn’t answer the door, I got worried. Let myself in. You know, with the master key I have and all that.”
Victor grunted.
“Going to lower the gun anytime soon?” Drake asked.
Zoe’s fingers feathered over his back. “Victor, you know he’s not a threat.”
No, not a threat. But a serious asshole. Victor lowered his gun. Zoe slipped around him.
The mocking smile that had been on Drake’s face vanished when he got a look at Zoe. “What in the hell happened?”
“That bad, huh?” Zoe muttered.
Victor put the gun back in its holster. “Drake, it’s really been one pisser of a night.”
Drake rose to his feet. “I’m getting that.” His head cocked as he studied Zoe with concern. “What I don’t get…is where did you two go? I thought you were planning to wait for my team to find Michelle—”
“Cancel that plan,” Victor directed. “Just forget about her.”
But Zoe stiffened. “No, no, we can’t do that.”
“Zoe.” What now? “The woman is an undercover cop. She went off the radar for a reason. She wasn’t who you thought. She was just—”
“Using me?” Zoe cut in with a sad smile. “I got that. Trust me, I got it. But Roy took me for a reason.”
“Who the hell is Roy?” Drake asked, looking confused.
For the moment, Victor ignored him. “Roy took you for a lot of reasons. Two million of them.”
Her cheeks reddened. “He said it wasn’t just about the money. He said he had a chance to get Michelle back. You heard him—he was going to trade me for her!”
Victor wrapped his hands around her shoulders. “He’s a cop who went bad. The guy got greedy, desperate for a big pay day. He isn’t some hero trying to save the woman he loves. He’s scum and
you shouldn’t believe his lies.”
Her gaze searched his. “What if she is being held? What if her cover was blown?”
“No.” He tightened his hold on her. “Just stop, right there. We are done, got it? You’re done. You almost died.”
Drake whistled. “Heavy night.”
“You have no clue,” Victor snapped back. Then his voice softened as he told Zoe, “We came to Vegas. We looked for her. Now we have to do some serious damage control—and focus on you.”
Her lashes lowered.
“You should go…go take a hot bath and relax.” That would be good, right? She’d been through hell, so she’d want to relax. Get the blood and ash off her. She’d—
Her lashes lifted, and the rage he saw in her stare froze him.
“Is that what you think of me?” Her voice was soft. Tight. “That I’ll go all tra-la-la off and forget that Michelle exists? That she could be in danger right now?”
“She isn’t the friend you thought—”
“No, she’s not. She’s a cop who was working an angle.” Her eyes narrowed on him. “Just like you’re an agent who’s working one.”
Shock rolled through him.
“What? You think I didn’t know?” Bitterness was there, in her voice, on her face. “Come on, Victor, you have to be working an angle with me. No way you’ve been helping me out of the kindness of your heart. If I go by what the other agents have said, you don’t exactly have any kindness to offer.”
He should stop touching her. He should pull back. He should say…something.
“You aren’t denying it. But then, you don’t have to deny it. I knew all along that you were holding back. Using me. When we were in that plane, and you started talking to me about Luther, I realized you were holding back even then. It’s not just about getting him to cooperate, is it? It’s about getting me to work with you. With the FBI.”
“It…it isn’t like that.” Fuck, no, it wasn’t like that. So why couldn’t he explain it to her?
“Really?” But there wasn’t any hope in her eyes as she continued. “Here’s the thing…I knew you were working an angle. I still wanted you, though. I still fell for you. Got so caught up in you that I can barely think of my life without you.”