by D. L. Roan
“Where are we?” she asked again. The one and two story sandstone slums went by in a blur as Grant plowed down the narrow streets. Hopefully they were near an airport. Mozambique was only an hour’s hop from Madagascar, an hour and a half at most by plane. It would take half a day if she had to stow away on a boat.
“La Panch.” Thalia braced her palm against the dash as the SUV lurched to a stop at an abandoned four-way intersection.
“La Panch? Where the hell is that? I’ve never heard of it.” She turned her head to see what Grant was looking at out the back window.
Grant shifted into reverse, throwing his arm around the back of her seat as he backed down the street. “It’s a small island near Reunion. Working class for the tourist islands.”
Dammit! Reunion was about as far away from where she needed to be to get to where she was going. And it was full of elitist, high class vacation homes. No freighters coming and going around this place. “I don’t suppose they have an airport, huh?” Just her luck. Tarzan had her marooned on another shitty island.
She chewed on her thumbnail as he reached a small alley they’d passed and slammed the SUV back into drive, pulling down the dark and narrow side street. “Nope. Why? You’re not planning on leaving me so soon, are you?” Thalia deadpanned her expression, determined to keep him from seeing the truth in that suggestion.
“Good,” Grant said when she didn’t reply. He parked alongside one of the taller buildings that made up the alleyway and cut the engine. Leaning up, he wrapped his arms around the steering wheel and looked up at the pale orange sky, the first rays of the sun peeking through the darkness. An incredulous smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. “Because I’d sure miss that sweet, rosy disposition and beauty pageant smile of yours.”
Thalia flipped him off, but he didn’t see it. By the time her pain rattled brain caught up to his sarcasm he’d pushed open the door and rolled out of the SUV. She flinched when the driver’s door slammed hard behind him. Dammit! There was that guilty feeling again, clawing at her insides. Even though she didn’t want to need his help, she did. He hadn’t asked one thing of her in return yet. The least she could do would be to keep her mouth shut. When he rounded the front of the car and opened her door, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him, focusing instead on the suddenly interesting crushed soda can on the floor at her feet. “You’re good at it, you know.”
“I’m good at a lot of things, sweetheart.” He unceremoniously unbuckled her seat belt and scooped her from the front seat. “I don’t need you to tell me that.”
She pounded her fist on his shoulder as he walked to the only visible door into the building. “I was talking about being nice!” She pushed against his hold on her but got nowhere fast, as usual. “I was trying to be nice, you jerk!”
Grant stopped in his tracks and peered down at her, his amber eyes searching hers. Searching for what she had no clue, but damn if that panty-melting fire in his eyes didn’t cut right through the bullshit in her brain. “You really think I’m good at being nice?”
Thalia forced herself to look away. “I take it back. You totally suck at being anything but an asshole!”
He studied her, a big goofy grin on his face. “I think you like me, fossa.” Heat flushed her cheeks; heat having nothing to do with her infection or fever. You should have just kept your big mouth shut!
Grant continued to the door, still holding her cradled in his arms. “You hate needing my help, but,” he reached up and pounded three times on the door, then three more, “I think you like me and you don’t know what to do with that.”
When no one answered he carefully sat her on her feet. “Okay, Captain Psychology, what does this mean?” She elbowed him in the gut, extracting a satisfying groan.
Grant recovered and struck with the stealth of a panther. Lacing his fingers into her hair he pulled her head back, forcing her to look at him. His breath billowed out, hot and moist against the shell of her ear as he leaned in and spoke with a growl. “It means my little fossa, that as soon as I get you someplace safe and your leg is healed, I’m going to bend you over and spank that smart ass of yours.”
Thalia froze, unwanted images of being naked and on display flashed through her mind. His heavy hand splayed across her ass and she could almost imagine the sharp bite of erotic pain. Grant’s hot tongue slipped out and traced along the outer shell of her ear, sending a tingling blanket of electricity dancing along her skin as he sucked on her sensitive lobe.
“Then I’m going to fuck you.” He turned her face and kissed along her jaw. “Long,” he sighed, the tip of his tongue tickling the corner of her mouth. “And hard,” he said in a low, baritone whisper just before his hand tightened in her hair and he crushed his mouth to hers. Devouring her, his tongue rushed along hers in long, demanding strokes like a prophet to his promise. Oh, damn! That feels incredible. She could almost feel his long, hard cock tunneling through her, sliding in slowly to the hilt, filling her completely.
Thalia cursed the moan that escaped through the tattered bare threads that were left of her control. Again her instincts were screaming for her to fight against his hold. Again some insane part of her welcomed his power over her.
Three pounding knocks barely registered as she floated in Grant’s arms. The reality of her situation crashed full force into the fog of erotic need that had engulfed her. She opened her eyes to see Grant’s amber irises focused on her, his lips still tasting hers. His fist pounded on the door with three more rapid knocks before his lips left hers, his other hand still clenched in her hair. “Get ready for it, fossa.”
She saw the promise in his eyes. There was no escaping this. No escaping him. She wanted him. She really wanted him. For the first time in her life, or the parts she could remember, she actually wanted sex. And he was right. She had no clue what to do with that. She had a feeling she didn’t need to know. Grant was going to show her exactly what she could do. What he could do to her. The mixture of anticipation and anxiety had her nearly gasping for breath by the time the door creaked and a petite, young woman peeked out through the small opening.
“Salina.” Grant nodded and scooped her back into his arms. The woman opened the door, looking around the corner before she backed up and motioned for them to come in. “We’re clear.” He turned to watch as Salina closed and bolted the door behind them. “No one followed. I’ll ditch the car while you’re seeing to her leg.”
“Who is she?” Thalia asked as Grant followed the woman down a long, narrow hallway, the scents of sandalwood and antiseptic jarring her senses. What a disgusting mix.
Grant scowled down at her. “You don’t ask questions and neither will she.”
Thalia didn’t have enough strength left to wonder what the hell that look was for, but he did have a good point…again. The woman blew past a row of closed doors and then stopped, pulling a wad of keys from the front pocket of her pink sweater. With ease and familiarity, she plucked out a key and unlocked the door at the end of the hallway, flipping the light on as she entered.
“On the table. Strip her shorts.” Thalia jerked away from Grant when he sat her on the cold, stainless steel table.
“I can manage my own clothes.” Thank you very much. She didn’t know who the hell this woman was, but the term bitch didn’t seem that far off the mark. No greeting or introductions, nothing. Just an order to strip and sit in a snotty French accent.
The woman didn’t balk at Thalia’s protest as she rifled through a row of cabinets, throwing what seemed like random crap into a metal bowl. “I don’t care who does it as long as you’re naked from the waist down by the time I’m ready.”
“She has a cut along her ribs, too.” Grant shrugged when Thalia glared at him, reaching for the button on her shorts.
“The shirt will need to go as well, then.” Salina whirled around and deposited the bowl full of surgical tools at the head of the table. She paused a moment, taking Thalia in as if she were inspecting a slab of beef. “You ha
ve two minutes while I ready the IV line, then I’m cutting them off you.” She turned and reached into another cabinet. “Not that I would be very attached to that fashion statement.”
Total bitch. Thalia couldn’t stop her wince of pain or the rush of heat to her face and chest as Grant crowded around her, helping slide her shorts over the gash on her thigh. This time he didn’t even try to look away from her. She didn’t know why she was so embarrassed. This was nothing compared to him listening to her pee. He’d already seen her naked and beat to hell. She slapped his hand away as he reached for the hem of her shirt, biting her lip to keep from calling him another colorful name. Be nice. He’s just trying to help.
Grant braced his arms on the table, caging her in, the scruff of his almost full beard tickling her cheek as he spoke into her ear. “I have to transfer my stuff and ditch the car. Don’t give her a hard time.” He paused, his soft lips sliding gently along her cheek. “I’ll be right back.”
Thalia watched him tuck his gun into the back of his cargo pants as he disappeared down the hall, a sickening uneasiness building in her stomach. What if he doesn’t come back? She flinched when she turned to see Salina standing in front of her with a long needle pointed right at her.
“No!” Thalia shook her head. “No drugs. Just some antibiotics.”
“It’s only a topical to numb the area so I can clean it out.” Salina pressed forward and Thalia grabbed her wrist, keeping the needle on lockdown.
“I said no.” No way in hell was she letting this bitch inject her with God knows what.
“Fine.” Salina’s eyes narrowed as Thalia let her go. She watched as the woman rolled up her sleeve and injected the needle into her own flesh. Thalia winced as the woman pushed the plunger in ever so slightly. “You people are all the same,” she said, pulling the needle out and rubbing her fingers over the injection site. “There, see? I am not dead. This is only a numbing agent.”
Thalia screamed when Salina reached out and grabbed her thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Son of a bitch! Okay! Numbing agent! Numbing agent! Ahh!” Please! Tears clouded her vision as Salina turned and threaded another needle into the syringe.
Chapter Nine
As quiet as a rock, Salina worked to clean out the cut on Thalia’s leg and repair some of the patchwork Grant had done. For what seemed like hours she sat in what could only be described as hell, nothing but her thoughts of Grant to keep the pain at bay. Shouldn’t he be back by now?
“He will be back soon enough.” Thalia turned her head away from the hallway where Grant had disappeared.
“I know I didn’t say that out loud.” Either the woman had lied and given her the good shit—which totally sucked for all the good it was doing—or the bitch was a mind reader.
Salina giggled and wiped at the stitches on her side, applying a gooey ointment before moving to the next abrasion. “No, you did not have to. Staring at the door will not make him walk through it.”
Thalia relaxed a bit, hoping the uneasy feeling growing in the pit of her stomach with every minute that ticked by was caused by her fever. She watched as Salina worked above her, wondering if she and Grant had ever been an item. She was pretty enough. Auburn hair that curled around her shoulders, deep brown eyes and pouty French lips. She was also petite. Like elven tiny. Thalia hadn’t always appreciated her height. Though being five foot ten had its advantages when it came to dealing with some of the people she’d come up against the past few months. But being tall next to an elf made her feel like a freak.
“What did you mean earlier?” she finally asked, hoping to pry a little information out of Tinker Bell. “We are all the same?”
Salina opened a brown bottle and poured more alcohol onto a fresh cotton swab. “CIA, Mossad, ISI, whoever you work for. You all have understandable trust issues, but it makes my job impossible to do at times.”
Operative? Holy shit! Is that what he is? “How do you know him?
One of her shoulders raised in a casual shrug. “He saved my brother’s life a few years ago.” Salina glanced up at her through her lashes, quickly dabbing away the sting that sent Thalia’s last breath hissing through her teeth. “He did not live long enough to repay his debt, but I will always honor it. I have done some of my best work on your man.” Another moan escaped as Thalia’s chest filled with a weird sense of pride. My man? She winced again as a sharp, stinging pain pinched the inside of her arm. Dammit, that hurts!
Salina chuckled again and sighed. “I have never seen him so attentive as he is with you. Of course,” she shrugged, “I have never seen him with anyone at all before today, so what do I know? He is all bark and growl, and then gone. Until the next time. And he pays well so I do not complain.”
Bark and growl. “That’s my Grant,” she mumbled, her lips feeling a bit tingly.
Salina’s hand stopped moving, her focus fixed on Thalia’s arm. A small grin pulled at the corner of her lips. “Grant?” She nodded. “I like that name much better than Silas. He never looked like a Silas to me.”
“Grant, smant.” Thalia waived her hands through the air, wondering why her fingers looked like fuzzy caterpillars. “I don’t care what his name is. That man knoooows how to—ouch!” Thalia jumped when the woman poked at a spot near the top of her arm. Her head spun a little as she tried to focus on the trickle of blood running towards her elbow.
“Sorry.” Salina prodded at the seeping hole. “This one is going to hurt a bit.”
“It wasn’t bleeding like that before.” The room spun as she turned her head toward a loud thump which sounded from the darkened hallway. When she turned back, Salina was scowling as she dug into her arm with what looked like a wicked ice pick. She couldn’t feel it, but it certainly looked like it should hurt. “What did you give me?”
“We have to go!” Grant’s voice sounded hollow against the sudden ringing in her ears. “What’s wrong?”
“Gr…Grant?” She tried to focus on his face but all she could see was a swirling mass of black creeping into the edges of the room. Grant. I can’t... I need…
“She has a tracking chip in her arm. I can’t….” Salina grunted as she made one last try for it. “There!” A thin metal sliver fell from the tweezers into her other hand.
“Fuck! That’s why the place is crawling with shitbags!” Grant bent to gather Thalia into his arms. “What the hell did you give her?”
Salina threw open a set of closet doors and grabbed a handful of clothes, pushing them at Grant. “Put those on her. I gave her a shot of ketamine. I needed her sedated once I realized what I was dealing with.” After pulling off her latex gloves she paused, brushing her hands over her face. “What the hell have you gotten me into?”
Grant ignored her, frantically pulling Thalia’s arms through the dark blue scrub top. “Grab what you can. You’ve got two minutes if you want to come with us.”
Salina grabbed a wad of gauze and taped it over the hole in Thalia’s arm as Grant pulled her shirt into place. “I will meet you outside in one minute.”
“No. We leave through the tunnels.” Salina nodded and sprinted down the hall. “Hold on, fossa. I’ve got you.” Grant hoisted her over his shoulder and marched over to the row of cabinets, throwing the doors open one by one. When he found the antibiotics he dumped the trash and raked them and a handful of other various bottles into the bag.
There was no warning before a blast rocked the building. Chunks of concrete and dust rained down onto Grant’s back as he ducked and ran from the room, Thalia completely unconscious over his shoulder. Bright flashes of light lit the hallway as gunfire erupted near the front of the structure. Grant followed his mental map, familiar with every turn through the maze of doors and hallways, until he reached the cellar door. It was still locked so he knew Salina hadn’t made it. With no time to search for her, he kicked in the door. Gun in hand he rushed down the stairs, stopping only to throw a steel bar across the door. He carried Thalia to the back of the small, dank room and carefully se
t her down against the wall.
Working in near total darkness, his hands found the edge of the hidden panel with flawless precision. With a grunt, he slid the heavy metal slab away and grabbed for Thalia, pulling her through the low opening and hauling her back over his shoulder.
As he knew it would, the short, dark tunnel led him into a maze of underground rabbit holes and eventually into the building across the street from Salina’s. When he’d heard the commotion in the street and saw the group of heavily armed men signaling to another driver, it didn’t take long to figure out who they were looking for. He’d quietly stashed his things into another borrowed vehicle and parked it behind an abandoned dumpster on the backside of the other building.
Now that the tracking device was crushed under a pile of rubble, he felt fairly certain they wouldn’t be followed, but he wasn’t taking any chances. After buckling Thalia into the front seat of the truck he’d procured, he reached into the back and unlocked his storage trunk, taking out his sat phone and an extra firearm. It was time to call in a chip or two.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Cold air swirled round Thalia, the womp, womp, womp sound of an industrial sized fan rattling her bones. She tried to raise her head, to push herself up from the pallet of blood stained blankets, the stench of urine and feces assaulting her senses. Heavy. She felt so heavy.
A scream filled her ears and she opened her eyes, holding her breath and wishing she could disappear. Light flooded the dim room as a door opened at the far end. A man with a gun shoved a small girl into the room ahead of him. The same man who had forced her into the room the day before.