by Asha Daniels
When he caught his breath, he struggled to his feet. With every step, every push, his legs struggled. Christ. The darkness was disabling, and he was forced to pop on the light, swinging the beam again. The second he highlighted a face, he snapped it off.
But not before the gunman fired in his direction.
Cutter went down again and stayed down, waiting. Listening. Crawling to his knees, he anticipated the direction the perp was going and took a shot.
Thump!
There was no doubt the man went down. Keeping low to the ground, he weaved, making as little sound as possible, scoping, crawling his way deeper into the forest. Until he found the gunman. A single blip of his flashlight allowed him to see he’d caught the man right between the eyes. He placed the flashlight just to the side, the beam only catching the situation at hand. This could be a single assassin, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. Grabbing the attacker’s rifle from the ground, he kicked the perp twice before hunkering down, feeling for any other weapons or identification.
There were none.
The assailant was just over six feet and judging by the clothing, thin but muscular. The assault rifle was military grade, but easily purchased at any gun shop or show. He yanked off the man’s cap. The asshole had no particular markings, no noticeable scars that were present. At this point, he was forced to leave the shooter’s body. He calculated the time he’d been gone, realizing he was only two minutes from the road, but his time had run out. Running at full speed, he raced back the way he’d come, sprinting around and over debris, his mind only thinking of the woman he’d been hired to protect.
The woman he’d fallen in love with.
Leaving her alone had been stupid, ridiculous and while he wasn’t a praying man, he was lost in guilt and horror, fear and anxiety as he rushed back to the cabin and to the front door. There was no one else he could see. He fumbled with his keys, panting until he managed to unlock the door. The moment he flew inside, he gasped, holding the gun out in front of him. “Jasmine.”
She jerked up, panting. “What? Is something wrong?” Shrinking back, she dragged the blanket up to her neck. “Cutter. What?”
Breathing a sigh of relief, he calmed his breathing and locked the door. “We need to get going.”
Jasmine crawled to her knees. “What’s going on?”
“We aren’t alone.”
“What? What are you saying?”
He took long strides to the back door, checking. They were secure for a few minutes, but he would bet there was a second gunman waiting. He stormed into the kitchen, checking the pantry as well as the windows then blew out the candle. When he walked back into the living room, she was standing in the middle of the room, her expression petrified with fear. “Get into some clothes. Now! We’re leaving. We’ll have to come back for our things.” It was time to follow protocol, only there was no opportunity to call in the breach. He searched the remainder of the downstairs within seconds. There were no obvious signs of a break in, leaving him reasonably certain the assailant hadn’t gotten but so close.
“I don’t understand.”
“Do as I say!” The snapping words made her jump, but there was no time to be gentle. His gut had been right all along. “Follow just behind me.” He headed up the stairs, beckoning for her when she hesitated again.
Nodding, she raced up the stairs behind him, her hand on his back, her breath sounds skipping. “He’s here.”
“Yes. I’ll answer questions later.” Cutter checked her room then gave her the okay before moving to collect his bag. The only thing that mattered at this point were the weapons and ammunition. As far as the location of where to go next, he’d figure that out after they were a few miles down the mountain.
Jasmine was waiting just outside her door, a small bag tossed over her shoulder, her guitar case in her hand.
“Stay right behind me when we go outside. We might have one shot at this.”
“Yes. I understand.” Her voice was meek, hushed.
He swallowed before taking the stairs. “Out the back way.” Ushering her out of the door, he remained in front, guiding the way as they crept around the side of the house and toward the truck. He darted his head around the corner, listening, scoping. Nothing. He placed his hand over her mouth before ducking down and grabbing her hand.
She followed him to the letter, her hand gripped tightly around his fingers.
When they were near the passenger side, he hit the unlock then noticed there was no snow on top of the engine. He pushed her back, slamming her against the cabin.
“Oh!” The single yelp cut into the night.
Pressing his hand over her mouth, he leaned in, whispering. “I think the truck was tampered with. Stay here. Do not move.”
She nodded over and over again.
He could tell she was shaking but he had to check. If the truck had been compromised, he would be forced to follow a change in protocol, one designed for every extended operation. He’d found the second vehicle, and although the choice was Cutter’s usual request, this time and in the snow, the ride was going to become treacherous. If he couldn’t get them the hell out of here, they’d be on lock down and the chances of survival were slim to nil. Capturing his scattered breath, he crawled on the ground until he reached the underside of the truck. Flashing the light, he could see no bombs, no cut wiring, which would mean the amateur dismantled the engine in some way under the hood.
Every move step by step from his training, he opened the hood and peered inside. “Fucker.” The snatch and run had been damn good enough, disabling the truck from being quickly repaired. Anger left spots in front of his eyes, but he had no time to be frustrated over the fact they’d been compromised.
Rushing back to her, he pulled her arm until they were close to the woodpile. He had to take a chance and tell her what was going on. “Listen to me very carefully. The truck was tampered with, hoses and wires destroyed.”
She opened her mouth as if to scream then tamped it back, remaining stoic.
“Good. We have another way out of here. Not pretty but we have few choices. I don’t want to wait and be picked off.”
“Okay.”
“Do you trust me?” Cutter cupped her face, trying to squelch her fears. Hell, he had no way of fighting his own.
“Yes.”
“Then come with me.” He didn’t wait for her answer but moved to the secured shed located just off the back of the property. To the layman, there would be no reason to bother with the dilapidated shed. To Jeff Gammon, this would have been the single reason he selected the location. He exhaled as he unlocked the padlock, shoving the gate to the side and shining the light.
“A motorcycle?” she whispered then panted. “On these roads?”
“I’m an expert driver.” The words didn’t sound convincing. He rolled the bike out onto the snow. “Stay behind me.” There was a second path leading away from the house and directly onto the road, but even though the path was paved, it was snow covered. The only saving grace was that the snow was only a little over two inches. But he had to get the hell out of here fast.
“I’ve never been on a bike.”
He tossed her a helmet and secured the bags. “You’re going to learn. Hold onto me and keep your center of gravity low, meaning your head on my back. We should run out of the storm within thirty minutes.” But the entire thirty minutes could turn into disaster at any moment.
Cutter climbed onto the bike and started the engine. At least the motherfucker hadn’t found the bike. When she was secured, he patted her leg then put the motorcycle into gear. The bike was heavy, the tires new and the engine powerful. They should be able to navigate just fine.
He could only pray.
His thoughts reeling, he was determined to cut all connections with everyone who had any indication of where they were, and he wasn’t telling anyone where he was taking them now. Yanking the burner phone out of his pocket, he threw it down on the snow-covered pavement, lifted hi
s boot and stomped down. No one was going to take her life.
The wind hit him in the face, whipping against them as he drove carefully up and around the truck. He hunkered down and went down the driveway as fast as he felt comfortable. When he hit the road, he remembered what the old man had said about the road clearing. He had to take the safest way. Taking a right, he was surprised when they didn’t pass another vehicle, including one parked along the side of the road. Either the assailant had come from another property or there had been a second gunman.
His nerves were on edge, his mind on high alert as he drove down the winding road, the tires slipping only once. Her grip was strong, her fingers clenched together, and he could feel her heart beating even through the thick clothing. Hell, yeah, they were both terrified. The moment he passed by the small store, he said a silent prayer and followed the suggested road.
The storekeeper had been right. The road had already been plowed, leaving a fresh sheen of white. While he was unsure of where the hell he was going, this was their best chance. The darkness surrounded them because of the tree cover, but the first hint of morning light was breaking through the horizon.
There were no hidden gunmen, no sounds of gunshots as he drove on, but he was prepared for almost anything. The moment they came to a crossing, he stopped and took a chance, yanking out his phone and powering it up. Cell phone coverage. Which meant he would risk using the GPS.
“Why are we stopping?” she asked, her head bobbing over his shoulder.
“Checking directions.” There would be no phone calls at this point. He pinpointed where they were and turned his phone off, before taking off again. With any luck, they’d be on the interstate in fifteen minutes.
And there was only one location he trusted enough to take her. The risk was nominal.
That is, as long as the entire operation hadn’t been compromised. And in his mind? At this point, he trusted no one.
Hunkering down again, he roared out onto the street, navigating the winding roads with ease. When they were on a straightaway, only miles from the interstate, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Until he noticed an oncoming vehicle. Bristling, he didn’t slow down and in the early morning light and through the falling snow, he was able to get a clear shot of the approaching van. A dark colored SUV. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath and kept his gaze locked onto the small rearview mirror. When he noticed red brake lights, he made a calculated choice.
And floored it.
At this point all bets were off. Whoever was in custody was only part of the issue.
And the danger.
* * *
“I love you.”
The words lingered, a joyful statement of possibilities. Or perhaps she was holding onto nothing more than a fantasy. What they’d shared wasn’t love but clinging to each other out of fear. She was intelligent enough to realize that Cutter wasn’t afraid of anything, but the man he’d become. Perhaps she didn’t have the strength or the patience to withstand the demons from his past. Let alone her own. The moment in time, the beautiful intimacy and shared passion had ended.
Maybe forever.
Jasmine had no way of knowing what was going on, but fear crawled inside every cell, every muscle in her body. All she understood was that the situation had changed, forcing them to leave the very respite she’d come to love. Being on the motorcycle, behind the man she trusted implicitly, she felt alive, freer than she’d been during most of her life. There were no instructions, no details regarding where they were going, but she was his responsibility. She was also the noose around his neck, preventing him from performing in the manner in which he’d been trained.
After all, the man was a killer.
She’d accepted the limited stories, resisted asking questions because she knew what few answers he would provide would certainly be jaded. If not outright lies. He didn’t want her to peel back the layers. He refused to provide anything other than snippets about his past. She would never know the damage Stacy had caused, or the fringe of damnation he’d experienced in the war and beyond. And she would never be able to ask.
Cutter had zoomed onto the interstate, heading away from the mountains. While snow continued to fall, the flakes were lighter, allowing for his excessive speed. She could tell by the way he constantly looked in the mirror that there was someone following them. What in the hell had occurred? Would she ever learn the truth? But she had to ask herself, did she actually care? Huddling against his back, the warmth of his body sent dazzling sensations rushing down her neck and back, creating a pool of wetness between her legs.
He was her hero. He was her lover.
He was her Master.
And nothing was going to change the fact. She understood the risks, the danger, but as the wind whipped against them, popping goosebumps along the base of her neck, sliding down onto her arms, she never wanted the time shared to end.
But it would. Abruptly.
Cutter never slowed down once he sped onto the interstate, weaving in and out between the traffic, his control of the massive steel beast exactly what she would have expected. The moment he cut from the far left lane, shooting all the way across, hitting the exit ramp with a hard thump, the euphoria ascended. She tipped her head back, savoring the freedom, the adventure. God. What was wrong with her? There was someone out there, a monster dressed in civilian clothes who’d promised to take her life. And she was happy.
Slowing down, he veered off to the right, taking a side road, heading into nothing but a sea of fields and trees. There were no buildings, no gas stations or corner stores. Just miles of land. Looking up, she tried to identify anything that seemed familiar, but there was nothing. Not even any street signs. He knew his way. There was no question. Wherever they were going, he was insistent on protecting her.
Cutter turned another corner and this time, headed down a gravel path. He immediately slowed the bike to a crawl, turning in a complete circle. Where the hell were they? He left the engine idling but planted his feet on either side of the motorcycle, his eyes never leaving the road just ahead.
Jasmine eased back but knew better than to utter a word. He was watching. Waiting. He was anticipating the asshole was right behind them.
And so, they remained where they were.
The snow had stopped, the sky turning a dull gray, moisture creating a light fog. Her hands were numb, chilled to the point she could no longer feel her fingers. She wanted to ask him so many questions, to know exactly what had occurred. Maybe she didn’t want to know.
He seemed to sense her discord and eased back, tilting his head and lifting the visor on his helmet. “Won’t be long now. You’ll be safe in my care. That, I promise you.”
She gave him a half smile and couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever be safe again. In his arms.
When he eased out of the hiding space, he looked both ways before heading down the lonely road. Miles of unattended land meshed into aging homes, many abandoned, boarded up as if waiting for new owners. Not a single car passed by as he drove.
The realization was powerful. Such a beautiful area that no one cared for. Suddenly, the gravel road became paved, the trees manicured, the foliage maintained. When he eased the bike down another turn, stopping at a massive pair of iron gates, she was more than intrigued. She could see nothing, not a house or a mailbox. The gates themselves seemed commercial, not the kind found in any residential area.
Removing his glove, he placed the palm of his hand in front of a metal box.
Taken aback, she was no longer shocked about any aspect of Cutter’s life. Whatever secrets the man kept hidden in his private black box screamed of influential power. The single green light passing back and forth across his hand was followed by the gate moving, sliding quickly into shadowed recess.
He accelerated, zooming through the space.
Jasmine twisted her head, amazed the gate shut almost instantly behind them. As she glanced from right to left, she could tell there was no way a
nyone was getting in the location without authorization. Where were they? They’d remained in Virginia. That much she knew. There were various rural sections, farmland and fields located even just outside of Richmond and the surrounding larger cities. Cutter was more than just familiar with the area given his rush to arrive at their destination. The power outage had prevented him from securing another safe house, which meant he was forced to take them to a location he knew well.
Her eyes darted back and forth, taking in every nuance, every detail. The road was narrow and long, weaving through a myriad of overhanging trees. She could swear there were cameras placed in strategic locations, positioned to catch any movement. Any intruder. She held her breath as he slowed, moving through a clearing. Taken aback, she blinked several times. The fortress like structure was unexpected and massive in size.
The concrete, steel and glass enclosure was nestled against another bank of trees, aging oaks and maples hovering like a blanket of protection. Because of the darkness of the morning, the three-story structure seemed ominous, foreboding. Even the glass was smoked, allowing zero reflection, adding to the secretive allure.
He slowed to a crawl and headed around the side, slipping onto a smaller and well-hidden passageway. Within seconds, an oversized steel door slid up from the ground, allowing access. The moment they were inside, rows of blue lights turned on, highlighting the space, illuminating a modern and sleek garage.
Swallowing hard, she realized she remained trembling as she glanced from side to side. Everything was sleek, metal in design and reeked of money. A row of monitors and computers banked one side, various colored lights blipping on and off. The other held a collection of mechanical objects, each one appearing pristine and organized. Such as the man himself.
He pulled to a stop, cutting the engine. Very slowly he removed his helmet and climbed off.
His eyes had changed, darkness overtaking his pupils. It was as if this wasn’t the same man she’d spent time with, made love with. When he finally smiled, holding out his hand, his expression had changed yet again, softening. Approachable.