by Cynthia Eden
“Don’t cry,” a rough rasp. “Give me a second. I’ll cut the rope.”
What?
But…he rolled her. She felt the sharp blade of a knife between her wrists. She remembered the other man’s promise to take her pinky finger, and she shuddered. Don’t! Don’t! But this fellow didn’t cut her finger off. Didn’t slice her wrist. He just sawed through the rope, freeing her hands. She hadn’t realized just how tight the rope had been, not until feeling came flooding back to her fingertips. Feeling that started as pinpricks of pain then erupted into a full-on burning.
He hauled her up toward him, pulling her onto his lap and still keeping a hand over her mouth. “I know it hurts, but don’t make a sound. I’m trying to figure out our escape plan here, okay?”
An escape plan? Then he…he really was there to help her?
Savannah clamped her mouth shut behind his hand, not letting the pain-filled sounds escape. She’d choke down the pain. She’d do just about anything to get out of there.
“If I move my hand from your mouth, do you promise not to scream? Because if you do, only the bad guys will be running in here. Then I’ll have to kill them, you’ll have to watch, and you’ll probably freak the hell out.”
She was already freaking out. Had he missed that part? But Savannah nodded quickly to show him that she promised. That she wasn’t about to scream.
His hand lifted from her mouth.
She didn’t scream.
“Good.” His voice was so low. It had been low the whole time. Just a gruff whisper that barely reached her ears. In the darkness, he was nothing more than a big shadow. She couldn’t see his face. Savannah could only feel him, all around her.
Him…and his knife. The knife that was now sliding near her ankles.
“Gonna cut you free,” he breathed the words in his rough, dark voice, “it will hurt at first. The same way your fingers are hurting. Just don’t cry out, okay?”
Okay.
He gave a little jerk, as if she’d somehow just caught him by surprise.
Then he was cutting through the rope at her ankles. Finally freeing her legs and yes, it hurt, but she didn’t care.
“I need to check you for injuries. I’m going to run my hands over your body, all right?”
She nodded. Wait, could he see her nod? She couldn’t see him. Surely, he couldn’t—
His hands slid over her body. A quick, thorough search that seemed totally impersonal. She had bruises, scrapes, her shoulders felt like they were on fire, but Savannah didn’t think she had any broken bones. And she still had all of her fingers. Major win.
“Can you walk?”
If they were getting out of there, she could handle a marathon. “Y-yes…” Her voice was scratchy and low.
“Good.” He pulled Savannah to her feet. And her knees immediately gave way.
So…no marathon.
She would have crashed right back to the floor, but he held her tight. Her body was flush against his. She realized the guy was strong—very, very muscled. Tall.
“My team is taking care of the guys outside. But there were a few men Maddox missed when he did the first check.” His mouth was at her ear, and his breath slid over her lobe, making her shiver. “Not like him. Maddox never makes mistakes this way.”
She didn’t know who Maddox was.
“I counted eight men inside the house. Three of them ran out when they discovered the guys outside were missing. We have to play this scene carefully. If bullets start flying, I don’t want anyone shooting you.”
She’d prefer not to be shot, too. Thank you very much. “Don’t want…you hurt, either.”
“I can handle the bullets. Don’t worry about me.”
What was he? Superman? No one could handle bullets. But maybe he just meant that he was wearing a bullet proof vest. That could be it. “How did you get in?” The windows in that room were still boarded up, at least, she thought they were.
“Snuck in when the guy came to collect his boss.”
He had? Wow. That was impressive.
“In a moment, I’m going to need you to scream for me.”
Do what? Hadn’t he been the one demanding that she not scream?
“When you scream, the guard on the other side of the door will rush inside. I’ll take him out, and then I can take out anyone else who comes in after him. I’ll control the entrance, so only one hostile will be able to enter at a time.”
A hostile? Did he mean the men who’d taken her?
“Can you scream for me?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He let her go. Stepped back—and the warmth that she’d felt emanating from him vanished.
She spun around, straining to see in the darkness, but he was just gone. No, not gone. Hiding. Waiting.
Her bare foot hit a broken chunk of the chair. She picked it up, wanting a weapon. Wanting to have some kind of protection for whatever was about to happen next.
“Scream, Savannah.”
She sucked in a breath—and then screamed. Over and over.
The door flew open. Banged against the wall. A man stood there, the light spilling in from behind him to fill the room. He was thick in the middle, and his right hand gripped a gun.
“How the hell did you get loose?” He rushed into the room.
He’d left the door open. Light filled the space. She could see the broken chair. She could see the angry asshole rushing toward her. But she couldn’t see her rescuer. Where had he gone? Where?
She lifted the chair leg. “Stay away from me!”
He didn’t. He ran right at her, snarling and—
He was hit from behind. He stumbled, whirled, and then his head was jerking back, whipping with the force of an attack. Two seconds later, he was on the floor.
And there was still no sign of her rescuer. He had to be there, in the shadows, right? “Where are you?” Savannah whispered as she stepped over the downed jerk’s prone body. She dropped her chair leg and took his gun. A way better weapon.
There was no answer.
Savannah peered around the room. The light didn’t reach every corner. Her rescuer had to be in those shadows. Still hiding. Why—
“What did you do to Wayne?” a voice blasted.
She spun around, facing the open door, and saw another man standing there. Tall and thin, he had his gun pointed at her. Only fair—she had her gun pointed at him, too. But his gun wasn’t shaking. Hers was. “Get out of my way!” Savannah yelled.
“Hell, no. You’re not going anyplace.” He stormed toward her. “You’re—”
Crack.
He howled in pain. Howled because it looked as if his right hand had just been broken. The gun fell from his fingers, and when it hit the floor, it discharged with a loud bang. Savannah screamed, pure reflex, and she fired her gun, too. Blood poured from the guy’s shoulder.
Holy shit. She’d just shot him.
“You bitch!”
He lunged at her.
She got ready to shoot again, her finger squeezing the—
Her rescuer appeared. He grabbed the other man from behind. Sliced up with a blade and…
Blood. So much blood.
Her eyes squeezed shut. This couldn’t be real.
She opened her eyes.
It was real. Horribly real. Her rescuer had just killed a man with a knife, slicing the bad guy’s throat, and she was about to vomit. Right there. The gun slipped from her suddenly nerveless fingers and hit the floor.
Her “hero” wiped the knife on his pants. “You good?”
Uh, very much nope. But she nodded.
“Then let’s get the hell out of here.”
He caught her hand in his. Then he was rushing into the hallway and pulling her behind him. He looked to the left, to the right, and then they were bounding toward stairs.
They raced down those stairs in what had to be record time. Hope was making her breath come fast and hard. Or maybe that was fear. Whatever. They were almost at the bottom
of the stairs. Almost—
“She’s mine!” The bellow came from above. And so did the gunshots that blasted at them.
Savannah expected the bullets to tear into her back, but her rescuer—he was there. In a lightning fast move, he yanked her down and put himself in front of her. When more bullets erupted, she felt his body jerk. The shots are hitting him! First one, then the other. And…
“It’s going to be okay.” He stared into her eyes. They were in the light, and she could finally see his face clearly. He had beautiful, coal black eyes. Pure black hair. A face that was hard and fierce, a jaw that was—
“Run…” He gasped out the one word before he fell.
He just—he fell right there. Collapsed on the stairs. And she could smell blood.
“Savannah!” Her head whipped up. The shooter—the familiar bastard was smiling at her. He offered his hand to her. “Come back to me, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. He called her that often, because they’d known each other for a while. This man—the man who’d kidnapped her and threatened to cut off her finger—wasn’t a stranger. They’d been friends. Lovers. And now…now they were this. Captor and captive? Would-be killer and victim?
Savannah shook her head. “Stay away from me.”
His lips thinned. He was handsome. Dark blond hair, green eyes. A perfect, chilling grin. He still gripped the gun in his hand, but as she stared up at him, he moved down a few stairs—and he aimed that gun at her rescuer’s head.
“Is he still breathing, Savannah? I think he is. I think I can see his chest moving.”
Her knees had locked.
“But if you don’t get your ass over here to me, the next bullet will go in his brain. Do you want that, Savannah? You want me to put a bullet in his head? You want me to kill him in front of you?”
No. “You’ll do it, anyway.” She knew this with certainty. He’d kill the man who’d tried to save her. Yes, the fellow was still breathing. She could see his chest rising and falling. He was bleeding, though. He was hurt. He was—
He had a knife in his left hand. She could see it.
She forced her legs to bend. She grabbed his hand, as if she was holding on tight to him.
“Savannah!” Fury blasted in that word. “Come to me, now!”
“Come and get me,” she whispered.
Did he hear her? Did it matter? He rushed down the stairs, still holding his gun, and then when he was close—
She surged back to her feet and drove the knife at him. It hit him in the side, sliding deep, and he bellowed. He bellowed even as he fired his weapon.
I’m going to die right here. This is how it ends for me.
But the bullet didn’t touch her.
Just as he’d fired the gun, the house had plunged into total darkness. She heard the thud of flesh hitting flesh, a grunt, and—
“I told you to run.” His voice. Her rescuer. He was talking.
And he was reaching for her hand.
“Said run…not steal my knife.”
A wild laugh escaped her. He was okay? He was—
He scooped her into his arms and raced down the remaining stairs. “This place is about to blow. Maddox said the fire is coming.”
What? When had this magical Maddox said anything? She hadn’t heard a word—unless…was her rescuer wearing some kind of mic? Were they communicating via—
“I only had five minutes before the detonations were scheduled. Time is up, Savannah.” His hold tightened on her. “But I’ve got you.”
He had her, but what about the “boss”—what had happened to him?
Her rescuer kicked open the front door. They ran into the night.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
More bullets were flying. Were they flying at them? Were they—
The house erupted behind them, sending flames shooting high into the sky and sending Savannah—and the man holding her—hurtling forward.
I’ve got you. His words filled her mind right before she slammed into the earth.
Chapter Two
“You want to stop holding her?” Maddox asked as he glanced into the rear view mirror. “I mean, we’re safe now. You can put her in the seat next to you.”
Jett didn’t want to put Savannah in the damn seat next to him. “She’s still out cold.” His fault. When they’d hit the ground, he’d tried to cushion the fall, but he hadn’t done a good enough job. Savannah had been knocked out, and she still hadn’t opened those gorgeous hazel eyes to look at him.
“That’s probably for the best. This way, she doesn’t freak out because we left an inferno in our wake.”
It wasn’t for the best. She was hurt. Jett growled.
“Uh, buddy? Everything all right back there?” Maddox pressed.
It was just the three of them in the SUV. Andreas had stayed back at the house. Once he was sure the scene was clear, Andreas would head out on his motorcycle and meet them at the rendezvous location.
“She needs a doctor,” Jett announced. “She’s covered in bruises. And now she’s got a knot on her head. She needs—”
She moaned. Turned in his hold. Rubbed her cute little nose against his neck.
It got harder to breathe.
“How much did she see?” Suddenly, Maddox’s voice had gone low. Cold.
Jett swallowed. “I turned things dark.” A talent he had, one that came in very, very handy on covert missions. “I don’t think she saw anything but, well, me taking a few bullets.”
He was wearing a bullet proof vest, so most of the bullets had never reached his skin. One had torn through his upper arm, bleeding like a bitch, but he’d only faked the whole near-death thing. The plan had been for Savannah to keep running. He’d figured she’d leave him on the stairs and get to safety. Maddox had been waiting outside to swoop her up.
Jett had intended to keep playing dead/severely injured on the stairs until the ring leader came down those steps. Then taking the guy out would have been easy as pie. Only Savannah had surprised Jett.
And she’d taken his knife. She’d stabbed the man coming to take her.
She’d also impressed the hell out of Jett.
That had all been before he’d gotten her hurt. Shit, I’m so sorry. He didn’t like to ever see a woman get hurt. And definitely not her. Definitely not—
“Why are you sorry?” Savannah’s voice was a little slurred. “You got me out.”
Jett stiffened. He hadn’t spoken out loud. No way should she have just heard what he’d said. No, not what he’d said. What he’d thought.
Her lashes fluttered open. Jett found himself staring into wide, hazel eyes. He had perfect night vision, a Lazarus bonus. All of his senses had been enhanced courtesy of Lazarus. The program came with lots of bonuses, and some extreme negatives.
“You’re holding me.”
He felt his lips twitch a little at her low words. “I think you may have a concussion.” And who the hell knew what else? He’d searched her for broken bones and hadn’t found any, but Savannah could have other injuries. They needed to get her to a hospital. They’d drop her off, and he’d vanish from her life.
The way he always vanished after a case was done.
“A concussion.” Her gaze stayed directed up at him, and Jett wondered just how much she could see of him in the dark. “That would explain the throbbing in my head.”
His smile wanted to stretch.
She didn’t get up, just remained curled on his lap, against his chest, near his heart. A heart that was beating a little too fast. Probably a side effect of the adrenaline. It had been one hell of a night.
“You saved my life.”
He realized he was stroking her arm. He should stop. He didn’t. “I think you saved mine, too. Didn’t realize you were handy with a knife.”
“I totally am not,” she confessed in her husky, sensual voice. “But I was desperate, and the knife was handy.”
Her hair smelled like flowers. Fresh. Light. He found himself leaning even closer to he
r.
“Who are you?” Savannah asked him.
“Jett.” Just a first name. Not a last. She wouldn’t ever need to know his full name. Within the hour, he’d be walking out of her life.
“I’m Savannah.”
“I know.”
He heard the faint click of her swallow. “How did you find me? Who sent you?”
He couldn’t answer either of those questions. Or he could, but if he did—he’d just be lying. As he stared into her eyes, he realized he didn’t want to lie to her.
From the front seat, Maddox cleared his throat.
Savannah immediately stiffened.
“Easy,” Jett soothed. “That’s just Maddox.”
“Ma’am,” Maddox called, “you’re safe now. We’ll take you to a local hospital so you can get your wounds treated.”
“I’m fine,” she answered immediately and she slid off Jett’s lap.
He didn’t like that. He’d been enjoying having her close.
But when Maddox had spoken, she’d seemed to shut down. Now she hunched in the far left seat, pulling a seatbelt across her body.
“I don’t need a hospital,” Savannah added quickly.
“The concussion says otherwise,” Jett muttered.
“It’s not a concussion. It’s just a bump on the head.” Her fingers fluttered in the air, and he grabbed her hand, turning it over, inspecting the bruises and the cuts on her wrist.
Rage filled him. A dark and twisting fury, but his fingertips were light as he traced the marks on her.
“It’s just from the rope,” she whispered to him. “I was trying to get away. The rope cut me. They—the men—they didn’t hurt me. Only at the end…”
Her voice trailed away. He reached for her other wrist. Saw the same wounds.
“It’s so dark in here.” Her voice had gone higher. Gotten nervous. “How can you even see—”
“Jett can see like a cat in the dark,” Maddox replied blandly. “One of his talents.”
A talent that Maddox shared.
“What happened at the end?” Jett demanded. Because her words were nagging at him.
They didn’t hurt me. Only at the end…
Maybe he should have sliced every one of those bastards into little pieces.
“He was going to cut off one of my fingers. Said he had to do it. Had to send proof.” Her breath rasped in and out. “But then you came. One of the men told him…said the guys outside were missing. He stopped.” Her hand turned in his grasp. Held Jett’s. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I will never be able to repay you for what you’ve done.”