by Lori Foster
Holding her purse strap over her shoulder, she pushed through the security doors to the parking garage. Her black Mercedes-Maybach, looking much like all the other black sedans in the garage, sat in isolated splendor in her private spot.
The spot reserved for the boss.
The spot where her brother used to park.
Stop it. Melancholy doesn’t suit you.
She could have used a driver, as she often did. But tonight she’d wanted the solitude of a quiet drive home.
The storm raged and she pulled onto the road cautiously. At only 7:00 p.m., it looked like midnight, dark clouds obliterating any light. There wasn’t much traffic, and even driving more slowly, she neared her home outside the city within twenty minutes.
She could see the keyless entry gate for the long private drive when suddenly an SUV pulled crossways into the road, blocking the way. She slowed, the sense of danger overwhelming her. Headlights shone in her rearview mirror as another black SUV approached and that vehicle, too, pulled across the road.
Well, hell. Her doors were already locked, so using the automated voice control, she called Leese Phelps.
He answered with a lot of noise in the background, so she assumed he was at the bar already. “Hey, Sahara.”
“I probably have thirty seconds at most,” she said quickly and with, she hoped, admirable calm. “With my driveway in sight, two cars blocked the road. There are three men from each car approaching.” Her throat tightened. “They’re wearing masks.”
“Jesus.”
“I do believe I’m going to be taken.” At least she hoped that was the case, that they wouldn’t murder her outright.
“Keep your doors locked.” She heard the urgency in his tone. “I’m on my way and I’ll call the police to meet me.”
“You won’t make it in time. Until this is resolved, you’re in charge.”
“Damn it, Sahara—”
“You know the protocol we used with Catalina. Enoch has the details—” She froze as one big man stood in the pouring rain beside her car, his face and body hidden in black. She couldn’t even make out his eyes through the water dripping along the window.
Then he reached inside his jacket.
“Sahara?”
She ignored Leese’s demand, her heart pounding in fear...until the man slapped a photo of Scott against her window.
“Sahara!” he said again, his voice pure gravel.
“No police,” she insisted. She’d take no chances spooking men who might have information on her brother. Leaving her car running, the call open, she shoved open the door and stepped out. “You know Scott? Where is he?”
Blue eyes, now more visible as she stood before him, narrowed in satisfaction. He wrapped a meaty hand around her upper arm. “You’re going to tell me. Let’s go.”
* * *
BRAND IGNORED THE woman trying to get his attention with touches inappropriate for a public space. He ignored, too, the snickers of his amused friends as he drew back the pool cue to take a shot, effectively forcing her away.
He wanted to win the game, but he didn’t care about female company right now. The leggy brunette who again tried to hug up to his side was cute enough, definitely stacked enough, but he couldn’t drum up an ounce of interest.
He sank two balls on the table...just as her hand came around the front of his jeans, seeking balls of a different sort.
“Jesus,” he muttered, catching her wrist.
“Stop playing hard to get.”
He scowled at her. “Actually, honey, I’m not playing.”
When Leese charged into the room, all but grabbing Miles and Justice, a sick feeling dropped into his gut. Brand thrust the cue at the pushy woman and, a few steps behind, followed his friends through the bar. He saw them talking as they went out the front door and into the storm, but through the throngs of people milling about, he couldn’t hear their conversation.
He’d seen the alarm on Miles’s face, though, and the rage on Justice’s.
Only seconds behind them, he stepped outside and found them standing huddled together under the overhang, Leese talking fast.
He heard, “Sahara was taken. She knew it was going to happen when two cars blocked the road she was on.”
Shoving his way into their throng, Brand demanded, “Where?”
Leese spared him a glance. “In front of her house, or very near it.”
Someone had taken her. Every fiber of his being rebelled against the possibilities. She couldn’t be hurt. Please, God, don’t let her get hurt.
Justice bunched up like a junkyard dog and growled, “Tell me what to do.”
“I don’t fucking know,” Leese said. “Right before she stopped replying, she insisted on no police. I heard her mention Scott to the men, six of them, so one of them must have said something, though I didn’t hear any of them speak. I’m heading over there now to see if I can pick up a clue.”
“I’m going, too,” Brand said.
“You don’t work for her,” Leese reminded him.
Making it perfectly clear, Brand said, “I don’t give a fuck. I’m going.” When his cell rang, he and Leese were still engaged in a stare-down so he ignored it.
Justice gave him a shove. “It could be her.”
Given the way things had ended between them, he seriously doubted that, but Brand dug the phone from his jeans pocket and glanced at the screen. He didn’t recognize the number so he answered with a curt “What is it?”
Sahara’s voice came through, along with a lot of static. “I have to make this very brief. I’ve been taken by some men who seem to think I know where my brother is.”
His heart tried to escape his chest. Her brother was dead. Everyone knew it except for Sahara. With a touch of his thumb he switched her to speaker. “Where are you?”
“We’re still driving, and I have no idea where we’re headed.”
“Can you see anything?”
“No windows.” Someone in the background gave an abrupt order and, sounding annoyed, she added, “I’m told, since I can’t give them Scott’s whereabouts, I could instead have one of my men bring a ransom. Apparently the same amount Scott owed them.”
Fury rippled through every muscle in his body. “I’ll come get you.”
“Yes, I was hoping that you would, Leese.”
Leese? Did she not recognize his voice?
“The men know the agency well, including all my bodyguards. I’m sure they’ll recognize you when they see you so please don’t try sending the police instead. There are to be no police. Do you understand? Promise me.”
Knowing now that she wasn’t alone, Brand said, “I promise.” He pictured some psycho next to her, manipulating her, forcing her to detail those terms, and rage worse than he’d ever known churned inside him.
There was some fumbling through the connection and suddenly a deep voice said, “Listen up, Phelps. Come alone and don’t try anything or your boss is not going to have a pleasant time with us.”
The man thought he was Leese, so he’d go with that. “Tell me when and where, and how much to bring. I’ll be there.”
Miles, Justice and Leese stared at him in strained silence. The storm raged around them with flashes of light that crackled across the black sky, and ground-trembling booms of thunder.
But it was nothing compared to his personal turbulence.
“Soon,” the man said. “Repeat any of this to the cops and I’ll gut her slowly—after enjoying her a bit.”
“Touch her,” Brand warned, “and you’re a dead man.” The call ended before he could say more.
Blood pumping fast, Brand clutched the phone and looked at each of his friends. He hoped like hell someone knew what to do.
“I’ll rip him apart,” Justice growled quietly.
Brand knew that when Catalin
a, one of Leese’s clients—a woman he ended up marrying—had been in serious danger, Justice had been Sahara’s personal bodyguard, protecting her against the threats that had spilled over to them all. Since then, Justice still felt overly protective toward her, even though he, too, would soon be marrying.
“He thought I was you,” Brand said to Leese, trying to make sense of it.
Proving why he was top dog at the agency, Leese said, “Sahara either put in the call or gave them the number, and she sure as hell knows the difference between us. She said something about the men knowing all her bodyguards, that they’d recognize you—me.”
Miles said, “It was a tip. She wants a face they won’t recognize to show up.”
“I assume so,” Leese agreed. “That way, when I go to deliver money, the other, unknown person will have a chance of getting to her.”
Brand ran a hand into his hair, then tugged in frustration. “She’s never let up on trying to hire me to Body Armor. Hell of a way to lock me in, though.”
Justice looked murderous. “You don’t want to do it, fine. I’ll go incognito.”
Miles scoffed. “Like anyone would mistake a behemoth like you?”
True enough, Brand thought. Justice was enormous. “It was just an observation, Justice. No way in hell am I passing the buck.” Even if Sahara hadn’t singled him out, he’d insist on it.
After all, she’d called him.
“If she’s hurt,” he said, tortured by the thought but unable to obliterate it, “if one of those bastards even touches her—”
Leese interrupted his growing threat. “You’re not trained, Brand. My best guess is that Sahara wanted me to find someone else who can fill in, but she didn’t specifically mean you.”
Digging in, Brand repeated, “I’m doing it.” Leese and the others didn’t know that he and Sahara had something personal going on, despite his efforts to the contrary. And he wouldn’t tell them. They were Sahara’s employees and if she wanted them to know, she’d do the telling.
But that didn’t mean he’d let them cut him out. The way he saw it, Sahara had reached out to him, and by God, he’d be there 100 percent.
“You don’t know how to shoot—”
“I’ve been shooting since I was fifteen.”
That gave them all pause. “You have?” Miles asked.
“Are we really going to discuss my past right now?”
“No.” Leese turned away with purpose. “We can ride together.”
“To where?” Brand asked, even as he followed into the downpour.
Speaking loud over the storm, Leese explained, “In one breath Sahara put me in charge until she’s back, and then she mentioned Enoch.”
Soaked through to the skin, Miles and Brand climbed into the back seat of an agency SUV. Leese got behind the wheel and Justice rode shotgun. As they buckled up, Brand asked, “Enoch?”
“Respect him a lot,” Miles said. “But he’s an assistant, not a bodyguard.”
“He’s a hell of a lot more than an assistant to Sahara.” Leese glanced at each mirror, then pulled onto the rain-washed road. “Remember when Catalina was taken?”
Justice said, “I’ll never forget it.”
“None of us will,” Brand said, though he’d been involved only peripherally.
“We found her because Sahara had planted a GPS device on her.” He paused as he switched lanes, then continued with “I think she has one on herself, too.”
Brand gripped the seat behind Leese. “She said so?”
“She reminded me of the ‘protocol’ for Catalina. At first, I didn’t understand, but it’s starting to come together. I assume Enoch knows how to track her.”
Justice already had out his phone. “I’ll call him now.”
Miles withdrew his phone as well. “I’ll notify the others why we booked. They’re going to wonder, especially since our cars are still there.”
Brand hated feeling ineffectual, but while the others all seemed to know what to do, he hadn’t a fucking clue. He kept picturing Sahara, her attempt to look blasé at what she saw as his rejection.
Fuck, it had been a rejection.
Of the job...and of her personally.
But not for the reasons she thought. He wanted her, too much in fact. More than she wanted him, obviously, since she would always put the agency first.
“I got hold of Armie,” Miles said as he put the phone away. “He’s letting the others know. They’ll head over to her place to ensure her car is safely off the road.”
Armie, like Brand, was a fighter but not a bodyguard, but as a close personal friend to each of them, he’d do what he could. “They know where she lives?” Brand asked.
“They followed us there when Catalina was threatened.”
He’d missed a lot, Brand realized. Maybe too much. It pissed him off.
“Enoch is meeting us at Body Armor. Poor dude is frantic.” Justice pocketed his phone again. “He and Sahara are close.”
“She’s special to everyone who knows her,” Miles said.
Brand almost groaned. Special? Hell yeah, she was, in too many ways to count. From the time his friends had signed on at Body Armor, Sahara had been after him to join up, too. For too long now they’d engaged in a game of enticement and resistance—Sahara enticing and him resisting.
If it was just the job, no problem.
If it was only the strong physical chemistry, he could probably fight that, too, despite the fact that Sahara personified sexy in a classy but still touchable way.
It was more than that, though. Sahara was the whole package, a gorgeous woman with an enormous heart and a real head for business. She knew what she wanted and she went after it without reserve.
She’d wanted him...but he’d turned her down. And now men had her—
Miles nudged him.
Lost in his thoughts, Brand glanced up and caught his friend’s frown. “What?”
“Take a breath. If you’re going to do this, you need to get a little control.”
“I am controlled.” Hell, that was one of the major ways that he and Sahara clashed. She wanted all the control, always, in every situation, but then so did he.
“You look ready to erupt.”
Shaking his head, Brand shoved the rage deep inside and locked it down. He’d get Sahara back, then he’d destroy the bastards who’d taken her. “I’m fine.”
“It can’t be you,” Leese said from the front seat, “because you don’t know what you’re stepping in to.”
“Like you do?” Brand didn’t get annoyed. It didn’t matter what reasoning Leese used, he wouldn’t change his mind. “You can’t tell me that rescuing your boss from kidnappers is part of your normal workweek.”
“No, but each one of us has dealt with similar situations.”
“We’re tried and tested,” Justice said. “You’re not. God only knows the number of ways you could fuck it up, and Sahara will be the one hurt.”
Miles was the only one not giving him shit. “Fact is,” he pointed out, “Sahara called Brand, and she made it clear that the goons who have her would recognize us. Even if we can trace her, who’s to say they won’t spot us and kill her for it?”
“No,” Justice insisted.
“She called me.” Brand drank in a deep breath of humid air. “Plus you’re all married—”
“Not me,” said Justice.
“You will be soon enough.”
Justice couldn’t deny that, and it had him growling again. Maybe, like Brand, the lack of ability to fix this problem ASAP left Justice frustrated.
But Justice didn’t have the knowledge that he’d parted ways with Sahara under less than ideal circumstances. That was all on Brand and it was fucking well eating him up, adding to the need to do something. “Tell me the plan and I’ll see that it happens. But underst
and this—I’m going after her and that’s it.”
“Let’s get to Body Armor and see what we’re dealing with.” Leese drove aggressively despite the rain. “After that, we’ll make some quick decisions.”
Along the way the men called their significant others. Their low voices were intimate, except for Leese, who spoke via the speaker through the car’s Bluetooth.
“Dear God,” Catalina said, her worry plain. “Poor Sahara. She has to be frantic.”
Logical assumption, yet Brand couldn’t picture her being anything other than her usual cool, in-charge self. That, too, could be a problem. He reminded himself that Sahara was intelligent. Surely, she wouldn’t provoke her kidnappers.
“Please be careful, Leese,” Catalina whispered, “and please bring her back safe.”
“You know I will.”
Each of the women knew and cared about Sahara, so Brand had no doubt they’d all shared those sentiments.
Enoch was in the lobby waiting for them when they arrived. He’d already assigned extra guards on the building, not only on the ground floor but also as lookouts on the upper floors. “If there’s surveillance on the building, we’ll know.”
“Smart move.” Leese led the way to the elevator and they all rode up to Enoch’s office. He had his computer on and immediately showed them what he’d found. “She’s not far from her house, only about forty-five minutes.”
They each stood behind Enoch, leaning forward to see the screen. “They’re not driving anymore?” Miles asked.
“Don’t appear to be. The GPS has her stationary for about five minutes or so.”
“Looks like she’s in the slums,” Justice complained.
“The program can’t show me exactly where,” Enoch explained. “But if you get near the area you should be able to pick up her signal on this cell phone.” He handed it to Leese.
Brand took it from him.
No one said anything about it.
“I have access to some funds,” Enoch explained. “But I doubt it’ll be enough to pay off kidnappers.”
“Let’s wait and find out how much ransom they demand, then we’ll decide what to do.”