For Her Eyes Only (McCormack Security Agency)

  She reached for the meat hook. “You have no idea what they’ve cost me, what they’ve cost us. The one who raped me, the one who lied against me, the one who sent Simon to prison, and the one who stole his education, his career.” She was wrong about the woman understanding. Nobody could fully comprehend their suffering, and therefore this woman couldn’t fully comprehend their triumph.

  The redhead frowned. “Elliot? You want to kill Elliot because he went to college?”

  “He took Simon’s place,” Jade said succinctly, and stepped closer. Damn, she was slow. The redhead moved back, eyeing the meat hook nervously.

  “They took what was ours. They stole our life, now we’re stealing theirs.” All this talk was just bringing everything back, all the pain, the fear. She didn’t like it. Enough with the talk.

  Jade smirked. “You see, Karma is a bitch.”

  She raised her hand, and the redhead bent her knees as Jade lowered the meat hook. The woman twisted, dodging out of the way. The hook grazed her arm, and the redhead cried out as she stumbled against some battered ski equipment.

  “Karma’s only a bitch when you are,” the woman said hoarsely. She turned and grabbed something, swinging so hard and so fast Jade could only try to raise her arm before something long and thin struck her against her side.

  A pole. The bitch had picked up a pole. Jade glared and launched herself, swinging madly. The redhead fumbled with the stock, using it like a sword to bat her away, blocking her strike. She was leaning to one side, gritting her teeth as she dodged another swing. She overbalanced, and ended up dropping the pole.

  Something barreled into her side, and Jade was flung sideways, her head hitting the corner of the meat locker, and she fell down, dazed, fighting off a dark cloud of unconsciousness.

  * * *

  Vicky stared stunned, as Ryan stood, panting over the still body of Jade Maxwell. He bent low to look at her and nodded, apparently satisfied. He kicked the meat hook away, and it made a metallic ring as it slid across the concrete floor, to come to a stop at the base of the kitchen steps.

  A bunch of cable ties lay on the carving bench, and Ryan grabbed one and used it to tie one of the unconscious woman’s wrists to the chain link fence dividing this area from another storage area.

  “She’s out cold.”

  “Oh, God, Ryan,” she ran up and tried to hug him, only her right arm wouldn’t co-operate. He was alive, he was well, he smelled like smoke, and he was...furious.

  “What the hell were you thinking, just chatting to her like it was a Sunday picnic,” he snapped at her as he gingerly inspected the gash on her arm. She sucked in a breath, despite his care. It...hurt. Like, really, really hurt. So did her leg. She started to tremble. It was over.

  “I’m so glad to see you, too,” she said, gazing up at him, not bothering to hide her adoration. He’d come for her, he was alive and unhurt. Ow, and he had the touch of an elephant in a kindergarten.

  “I’m okay,” she said.

  “No, you’re not,” he snapped at her again. “You’re bleeding all over the place. How do you think I found you? Let me see your leg.”

  “I’ll do it.” She tried to unwind her makeshift bandage, but with one hand it was a little difficult. She kept her eyes on him the whole time as she slowly unwrapped the cloth, until finally his concerned gaze met hers. “I’m okay,” she told him, softly, calmly.

  He glanced back at the unconscious Jade briefly before turning back to her. He shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut before leaning forward to kiss her. Lightly, tenderly. Hotly.

  “You scared the ever-living crap out of me,” he whispered against her lips. “I was so worried about you. I thought I wouldn’t find you, wouldn’t get to you in time. Wouldn’t save you. Don’t ever do that again.”

  “Hey, you scared me when you tackled Simon, so we’re even.” She rubbed her hand up and down his arm, trying to calm her big, hulking, gorgeous, protective Ryan. “I had every faith in you. When I wasn’t worrying about you,” she admitted.

  He hooked his arm around her shoulders and tugged her gently to him, careful of her arm. “You did good, Vic. You did good,” he whispered against her hair.

  Then he cleared his throat and stepped back, holding her away from him. “Okay, now let’s look at this leg,” he said abruptly. He’d settled his features into a composed mask.

  “Wait, she started a fire—” she began.

  Ryan nodded. “I know. I finished it.” He pointed to his shoes. They were still smoking, just a little. He shot a quick glance at the woman behind them. She was still out cold.

  “Let me check your leg, then we’ll get Jade up to the kitchens.”

  Vicky frowned. She wanted more hugs, more cuddles, more “you did goods”, not this distance. She knew she was being a sap but she wanted just a little more time in his arms.

  His face was shuttered, and he jerked his chin at her leg. He was retreating. Again.

  She sighed and sank down on one knee, trying to pull the torn, damp denim up over her leg. It snagged a little on the ankle holster.

  “Come on, hurry up, let me see,” Ryan said roughly.

  “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, hold on,” Vicky snapped. If he was going to lose the warm and fuzzies, so was she. Sure, she was being stubborn, maybe even a little too proud, but she’d do it her damn self, in her own damn time.

  Ryan sighed as he hunkered down, hands on knees.

  She’d just managed to pull the denim up over the holster and cut, with gritted teeth and beads of perspiration dotting her brow, when the movement caught her eye.

  Ryan’s attention was caught by the exposed wound on her leg, and he grimaced. “Damn, that looks painful.”

  Jade sat up behind Ryan, a glazed look in her eye as she raised a ski stock overhead, the pointed end aimed at the head of the man in front of her.

  Instinctively, Vicky pulled the gun from her holster with her left hand, her right dangling uselessly by her side. Ryan’s eyes widened.

  She fired.

  Twice.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Ryan dove out of the way as Jade slumped and fell behind him, her hand dangling from the cable tie on the chain-link fence. He glanced over at the fallen woman behind him. She gazed up at him, shocked, as blood bloomed across her chest from the wound in her shoulder. Her fingers opened, and she dropped the ski stock. She tried to roll to her side, but cried out in pain as she fell back again. She wasn’t going anywhere.

  Good. Ryan gritted his teeth as his arm burned and he turned to Vicky, her left hand trembling as she held the gun, still pointed at Jade Maxwell. Footsteps clambered down the stairs behind him, and Drew raced into view. He stopped when he saw the scene.

  “There’s another body in the freezer,” Vicky said over her shoulder.

  Drew went to the door and looked in, and his shoulders sagged when he saw who was inside. “Ah, damn.” He ducked his head and looked away, and it was several moments before he visibly shook himself. He lifted his chin and strode over to them. Ryan wondered briefly who the unlucky person was, but his aching body distracted him.

  His shoulder felt like it had been kicked by a mule with hooves coated in gasoline and then set alight. Except the hoof was still buried inside him, burning. He lifted his hand to his shoulder and felt the warm liquid seep through his fingers.

  “You shot me!” He said incredulously, eyeing the gun in Vicky’s hand. She’d shot him. He couldn’t believe it. Sweet, little old pal-o’-mine Vicky had put a bullet in him. She’d had to rescue him.

  He looked up at Drew as their colleague hurried over to Vicky and took the gun from her, laying a soothing hand on her shoulder.

  “I thought you said she could hit the target.”

  “I did hit the target,” Vicky snapped as Drew helped her to her
feet, keeping the weapon trained on Jade.

  “You hit me!”

  “You were about to get hit by her!”

  “And you thought you’d beat her to it? I thought you were my friend.” He knew he was saying stupid stuff, but damn, she’d shot him, and it friggin’ well hurt. The spike of adrenaline was wearing off, leaving him sore and, well, cranky, damn it. She’d shot him.

  Vicky’s jaw dropped, then she narrowed her eyes. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

  “You shot me.”

  “You moved,” she snapped.

  “Of course I moved, you were shooting at me.”

  Vicky closed her mouth with a snap, pivoted and started limping up the stairs.

  Jade moaned. They ignored her.

  “Hey, what about my shoulder?” Ryan called after her. He was a big boy, he could handle the pain, but he wasn’t ready for her to walk away, to leave him. Not yet. He wanted to look after her, damn it. She was limping and holding her arm, and he just wanted to make sure she was okay. Safe.

  She didn’t even turn around. “Suck it up, Buttercup.” She even managed a stomp with every second step.

  Drew sniggered as he crossed over to Jade and turned her on her side, ignoring her cries of pain. He pulled her free arm up to the fence and used another cable tie to bind her wrists together.

  “What’s so funny,” Ryan snapped. He felt like he’d been through the ringer. Panicking over Vicky, only to get shot by her. What the hell? Normally he was a cool customer in times of danger and high stress, but today he was a mess. The woman he loved had almost been killed. Several times, damn it. She was giving him gray hairs and a heart condition. Wait, loved? Hot damn, he loved Vicky. Probably would have been better if he’d realized it before she shot him, but hey, better late than never.

  “You, you big jerk. She saved your life.”

  Ryan ducked his head. “I know.” He’d run and saved her, but she’d had to look after herself at the end. He couldn’t help seeing that as a failure on his part. “I just...I wanted to save her.”

  Drew frowned. “You did, you idiot. And then she saved you. Sounds like great teamwork.”

  He pressed his hand against his shoulder. “She shot me.” He was being a whiner, and he knew it. He just wasn’t ready to face it just yet, to admit it. She’d done great as a field agent. She’d been strong, calm, and focused. Well, maybe not that focused. He winced as he tried to move his arm. If she wanted to be a field agent, there was nothing stopping her. And that scared him most of all. Any resistance to the idea was his problem, not hers. She’d done good. Really good.

  “And she used her left hand.”

  “So?”

  “She’s right-handed. That was a hell of a shot.”

  “You’ve got to help me,” Jade gasped. “I’m in pain, I’ve been shot.” Her complexion was pale, and she moaned again, trying to move.

  Ryan and Drew looked down at her for a full minute. For the first time in his life, Ryan was tempted to kick a woman while she was down. This woman had hurt Vicky, and had been intent on killing her. No sympathy. His mouth curved down in a sneer as Drew hunkered down by her side. Drew’s voice was low, but Ryan had no trouble hearing his words, or the threat loaded within them.

  “You’re breathing,” Drew told her. “You’re making enough racket to hurt my ears, and you killed a very good friend of mine. I suggest you shut up, otherwise I could be tempted to finish what she started,” he said, jerking his head to the stairs Vicky had climbed. He leaned closer, his face just mere inches from hers, and Ryan watched as for once, Jade seemed genuinely wary. “So go ahead, tempt me.”

  Jade tightened her lips, and Ryan nodded with satisfaction. Drew had shut her up. Good.

  “I suppose we need to wait out the storm now. They’ve cut the lines. One of us is going to have to hike down until we get reception.”

  Drew stood up, shaking his head. “Nah. The storm was beginning to calm when I arrived. I called Luke and Reese from the lower parking area. They’ve got a team waiting at the bottom of the mountain. As soon as it’s clear enough, they’ll chopper up.”

  Ryan nodded. “And Simon?” He noticed Jade’s eyes widen at the mention of her husband’s name.

  Drew smiled, meeting her gaze. “Oh, he’s secure. That was fun. I rigged it so that if he tries to escape, he’ll set off some booby traps.” As he finished speaking a clatter of crockery and pans was heard from the kitchen above, followed by a male scream of pain. Drew’s smile broadened. “That was the first warning. He won’t want to go a second time.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Ryan blinked. He must have dozed off. He looked up and frowned. The TV over his bed was on. He shifted, trying to find the remote, and hissed as the movement jarred his shoulder. Drew sat in the chair next to the bed, his feet resting on the side of the mattress while he scooped a yellow mess out of a little cup. Ryan frowned.

  “Is that my pudding?”

  Drew licked the spoon. “Uh-huh,” he said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

  “I was saving that.”

  “Yeah, thanks. Now, shh. Brooke’s doing something very, very bad.”

  Ryan followed his gaze to the soap opera on the screen. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. She’s sleeping with that woman’s husband.”

  “No, I mean you’re seriously watching this?”

  Drew nodded as he leaned back in the chair. “Only while you play Sleeping Beauty.”

  “Give me the remote.”

  Drew sighed and handed him the remote. Ryan shook his head as he turned off the TV.

  “You need help.”

  “I know. It’s an addiction. Ever since the resort.”

  Ryan rolled his eyes, and sat up, looking around for the call button. “I want to get out of here.”

  “If you want the nurse, you missed her,” Drew informed him, and Ryan paused midreach.

  “I did?”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t,” Drew grinned holding up a slip of paper with a phone number written in blue ink. “You lucky son of a bitch. She’s gorgeous.”

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

  Drew blinked. “Really?”

  “Really.” She’d been nice enough, but every time she’d walked into his room he’d hoped it was Vicky, and had been disappointed each time.

  “Huh. Interesting.”

  “I want out of here.”

  “Yeah, she mentioned that.” Drew pulled a folder from between his body and the chair’s armrest. “Here are your discharge papers. Just sign them, and we’re gone.”

  Ryan nodded, and took the pen Drew held out.

  “Didn’t notice, huh?”

  “No.”

  “Has Vicky been to visit?”

  Ryan’s movements became jerkier as he scrawled his signature. “No.”

  “Have you spoken to her at all since the resort?”

  “Once.” He set the folder aside.

  “Oh.”

  They both sat there silently for a moment. “What did you say to her?” Drew finally asked.

  Ryan frowned. Drew’s tone was almost accusatory. “Nothing.” He threw off the sheet and got out of bed.

  “You spoke, but said nothing, and she hasn’t visited?”

  “Right.” He fumbled around in the cupboard and pulled out the clothes Drew had brought in for him the day before.

  Drew leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “What did you say to her?”

  “Nothing...much.” He removed his sling, grimacing as he changed out of the drafty hospital gown into tracksuit pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

  Drew nodded. “I see.”

  Ryan clenched his teeth as he donned his coat. “She called, but then she hung up on
me.” The shock and pain still felt raw. In that one brief phone call he’d gone from joyous to rejected, within the swing of a pendulum. He shoved his feet into his shoes without bothering with socks, or with untying the laces.

  Drew nodded again. “I see.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t.”

  Drew’s brow wrinkled. “So,” he began slowly, “you guys spend four days pretending to be married, she shoots you, and doesn’t come to visit you in the hospital. I thought you guys were friends?”

  Ryan’s frown deepened. They were more than just friends, damn it.

  Drew’s eyes widened. “Oh. My. God. You did it.”

  “Shut up.” He opened the drawer for his wallet and the book Reese had loaned him.

  Drew lifted his feet off the bed and leaned forward in the chair. “You did it. With Vicky.”

  “Shut up.”

  “What the hell did you say to her?”

  “I don’t know.” He didn’t. Ryan straightened and finally met his friend’s eyes. He’d been so happy to hear her voice, to hear she was okay. “I told her I couldn’t wait to see her.” And then she’d hung up on him, and he’d sat in his bed, alone, listening to the dial tone, and feeling his heart shrivel. He didn’t like that feeling, the vulnerability.

  Drew’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly did you say to her?”

  Ryan tilted his head back, trying to remember. “I think I said something like, ‘hey, buddy. Looking forward to arm wrestling with you.’ She was so sorry about shooting me, I was trying to tell her that I was okay, that my arm would be all right, make light of it, you know?” He looked at Drew.

  Drew blinked. “You told her you wanted to arm wrestle?”

  “Yeah. Maybe have some beers, chat.” They had a lot to talk about, like how he couldn’t stop thinking about that night, and her in that sexy little nightie. Or how he’d felt like his heart was ripped from his chest when he couldn’t find her, and didn’t know if she was safe. He’d had a lot of time to think, lying in bed and gazing up at the ceiling. He...missed her. Missed her clothes all over the room, the little sighs and weird conversations in her sleep, the arguments that challenged his thinking, his decisions. He missed having her body next to his, the touch of her skin, the scent of her perfume. Not having her around was like learning to live in foster care. Painful, with an overwhelming sense of loss.