Midnight Revenge

by Elle Kennedy

  He took advantage of her parted lips and thrust his tongue past them. At the same time, he put pressure on her carotid arteries, his thumb pressing into one, his fingers tightening around her throat to pinch the other.

  A surprised squeak flew out of her mouth. “Jason—”

  Her expression became dazed in a matter of seconds, but there was no mistaking the gleam of accusation. Betrayal. Her eyes were screaming at him, You promised not to hurt me!

  She should have learned by now that his promises meant shit.

  Her hands slapped at him in a futile attempt to break free, but his grip was too strong, pushing deftly on those pressure points until Angelina finally went limp in his arms.

  D easily caught her sagging body and opened the SUV’s back door with his free hand. He heaved Angelina into the backseat, then reached for the roll of duct tape he’d left on the floor mat. After he’d torn off a piece and stuck it to her mouth, he made quick use of his zip ties, securing her hands and feet before straightening up and slamming the door.

  In a heartbeat, the hairs on his neck stood on end, tingling wildly. D drew his weapon and aimed just as a familiar figure emerged from the shadows.

  Liam Macgregor stared at him in disbelief. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Chapter 8

  Sofia had known Jim Morgan had a lot of money, but she hadn’t realized the extent of his wealth. The man’s compound in Costa Rica looked like it belonged to one of those criminal kingpins you saw in the movies. Bordered by the jungle on one side and a rocky hillside on the other, the sprawling Spanish-style home and numerous outbuildings were surrounded by not one, but three massive gates that she’d had to stop her car at in order to be buzzed in.

  The security man who’d met her outside the house hadn’t bothered giving her the grand tour. She’d been led into a gorgeous parlor with gleaming marble floors and twin spiral staircases, ushered down a corridor with expensive artwork on the walls, and brought into a living room that seemed more suited to a ski chalet than a Costa Rican estate. The room had impossibly high ceilings, wood-paneled walls with built-in bookshelves, and a stone fireplace she could walk into. Rustic luxury to the max.

  She’d been ordered to sit, so Sofia was now fidgeting on one of the brown leather sofas, staring at the massive oak doors as she waited for Morgan to grant her an audience.

  She already knew D wasn’t here—the security guard had informed her of that when she’d arrived—and the pang of disappointment in her stomach refused to go away, gnawing at her insides. She desperately wanted to get this over with, but it had to be done in person, damn it.

  She’d been calling him ever since she’d left the hospital yesterday morning, but his phone kept going to voice mail. Eventually her frustration had led her to call Morgan, who’d told her D was unavailable, but refused to say if D was at the compound. After Morgan’s dodging, she’d finally decided to take matters into her own hands by flying to San José and making the drive to the team’s property.

  Sofia’s shoulders tensed when footsteps sounded from the hall. That had better be Morgan out there. And he had better tell her where D was, because she was so not in the mood for his cryptic soldier bullshit right now.

  When the heavy doors parted, it wasn’t Jim Morgan who walked through them, but the most beautiful woman Sofia had ever seen. So beautiful that she was rendered speechless for a moment, which she suspected was the typical response this woman received from people.

  Long golden hair cascaded over one slender shoulder as the blonde sauntered inside the room. Her features were perfection, her eyes the palest shade of blue. She wore all black, from the leggings hugging her shapely legs to the tank top clinging to her breasts, and although her bare feet should have made her appear casual, the blonde looked like a total badass as she marched toward Sofia.

  “I have one question for you, Dr. Amaro—what the fuck kind of trouble are you in?”

  Sofia blinked, taken aback by the woman’s cold voice and even colder gaze. “I’m sorry, do we know each other? Who are you?”

  The blonde perched her butt on the arm of the chair opposite the couch. “I’m the woman who’s going to slit your throat if you’ve brought danger to my doorstep.”

  Her doorstep?

  A snort sounded from the door, and Sofia breathed in relief when she spotted a familiar face.

  “Leave her alone, Noelle,” Abby Sinclair said with a sigh.

  Noelle? Sofia’s gaze flew back to the blonde. This was Morgan’s wife—Ethan Hayes had told Sofia about her when he’d paid a visit to the clinic last year. According to Ethan, Noelle was a contract killer, and with the waves of menace rolling off her body, that was pretty easy to believe.

  Abby walked into the room, holding a chubby-cheeked infant in her arms. “Sofia.” She nodded in greeting. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Sofia stood up and approached the redhead, her heart squeezing when the baby’s tiny hand extended in her direction.

  Swallowing the lump of emotion that rose in her throat, she lightly touched his teeny fingers and smiled at Abby. “Morgan had told me you were pregnant, but I didn’t realize you’d already had the baby. Congratulations.”

  Abby’s expression softened slightly, certainly not enough to completely eliminate the shrewd glint in her eyes. She was still the same terrifying woman Sofia had met several years ago when Abby had first joined Morgan’s team. Clearly, motherhood hadn’t changed that.

  “Thank you.” Abby absently ran her palm over the baby’s fuzzy brown hair, and he immediately tipped his head back, gazing up at her in adoration. “This is Jasper. Or J.J., as the guys like to call him. It’s short for Jasper Jeremy.”

  Another sharp pang clenched Sofia’s heart when Jasper’s entire fist surrounded her index finger. God, in seven months she would have her own little Jasper. She was going to be a mother.

  The notion was still so surreal.

  “As heartwarming as this little reunion is,” Noelle spoke up, her voice icier than before, “I’d like to know why Dr. Amaro decided to pay us a visit.” With a pointed look, she added, “Unannounced.”

  Sofia released the baby’s hand and took a step back. “I need to speak to D.”

  Noelle’s gaze sharpened. “Why?”

  “Because I do.” Irritation rose inside her. “Can you please tell me where he is? He’s not returning my calls, and it’s really important that I talk to him.”

  “Which leads me right back to the million-dollar question—what kind of trouble are you in?” Noelle crossed her arms. “Who’s after you? And when can we expect them to show up?”

  “I’m not in trouble,” she replied through clenched teeth. “And nobody is after me. Do you really think I’d bring trouble to your door? This is Morgan’s home—I wouldn’t endanger him or anyone else living here.”

  Her gaze fell on the baby again, who still hadn’t made a sound. He was calmly resting his cheek on his mother’s breast, listening to the conversation almost as if he understood what was being said.

  “There’s no danger,” Sofia repeated. “I just need to talk to Derek. It’s a personal matter, okay?”

  Suspicion darkened Noelle’s expression. “Personal.”

  “Yes.”

  Noelle exchanged a look with Abby, then turned to Sofia with a shrug. “He’s unavailable. Leave him a message and he’ll call you back.”

  “If he was returning my calls, I wouldn’t be here! Damn it, would you—” She hastily lowered her voice so she wouldn’t upset the baby, but Jasper seemed unfazed by the tension in the room. “Just tell me where D is and I’ll be on my way.”

  Noelle slid off the armchair and approached her, and Sofia tried hard not to flinch. Jesus. This woman actually scared her. Something about the way Noelle moved, the way her gaze cut right through you . . . How on earth did Morgan lie in bed beside her every night without worrying she’d kill him in his sleep?

  “So.” Noelle looked thoughtful. “Are you in
love with him?”

  Sofia blinked in surprise, shifting awkwardly. “No.”

  “All right, then. That leaves option number two.” The blonde spoke in a blunt voice. “You’re knocked up.”

  Now she did flinch. Which only made her angry, because she didn’t even know this fucking woman. Who cared if Noelle was right on the mark? Sofia had no desire to discuss her private life with a stranger.

  Abby’s eyes flickered with interest. “You’re pregnant?”

  Sofia fought the urge to scream. “What is the matter with you people? There’s this concept you need to learn—it’s called boundaries. It’s none of your damn business what I need to talk to Derek about.”

  “It is our business,” Noelle corrected. “D works for my husband and lives on this compound. His business is our business. And his mistakes are our mistakes.”

  Mistakes. Was that what Noelle considered this pregnancy?

  Well, the only mistake Sofia was willing to own up to was her stupid decision to come here. She’d thought she’d be speaking to Jim Morgan, who happened to be a reasonable man. If she’d known she was going to be interrogated by Mrs. Morgan, who was not at all reasonable, then she would have fucking stayed in Mexico.

  “Where’s Morgan? I want to talk to him.”

  “You just want to talk to everyone tonight, don’t you, Doc?” Noelle’s mocking blue eyes pierced into her. “Jim’s in the jungle with his daughter. They won’t be back until morning.”

  His daughter? Okay, Sofia wasn’t even going to touch that one. But the second part of that sentence was perplexing enough to spark her curiosity. “Why are they in the jungle at this time of night?”

  Abby gave a dry laugh. “He’s teaching Cate how to track prey in the dark.”

  Sofia suddenly felt light-headed. God. Morgan was traipsing around in the jungle, teaching his kid how to “track prey”? Who the hell were these people?

  Maybe she shouldn’t tell D about the pregnancy. If he happened to notice her bulging stomach or see her with the baby, she could just pretend he wasn’t the father. Say it was Chris’s, the doctor she’d been dating before him. And if the baby ended up looking like a mini D, then she could play dumb, pretend she didn’t notice the resemblance, that it was a coincidence—

  Okay, she wasn’t that stupid, and neither was D. They were adults, and they needed to sit down and talk about this.

  Which might actually happen if these women stopped grilling her like she was on the damn witness stand.

  “I’ve had enough of this bullshit,” Sofia announced. She addressed Noelle rather than Abby, because it was clear who called the shots in this house. “You got me, all right? I’m pregnant. Eight weeks along, and the baby is Derek’s. If you want proof, then I’m sure I can arrange for a paternity test once the timing is right,” she added sarcastically. “Until then, just give me his address so I can speak to him in person. I don’t want to do it over the phone. I don’t want to do it via a goddamn letter. So for the love of God—”

  “Go get Ash,” Noelle told Abby.

  The abrupt interruption—no, the dismissal—made Sofia’s jaw drop.

  And she’d been absolutely right about who called the shots, because Abby responded with a nod and left the room in brisk strides.

  Sofia opened her mouth, only to get interrupted again. “What’s your phone number?” Noelle barked out.

  “What does that have to do with—”

  “Jesus Christ. What’s your phone number, Doc?”

  Still confused, Sofia recited the digits. When she finished, Noelle removed a cell phone from the front pocket of her black pants, which were so tight Sofia couldn’t figure out how they even had pockets.

  As Noelle dialed, Sofia watched in disbelief, wondering what the hell was going on. Why wouldn’t they tell her how to reach D? She wasn’t asking for the codes of the president’s nuclear football, for Pete’s sake. She needed one measly address.

  “Hey, it’s me,” Noelle said into the phone. “The app you downloaded for Macgregor? Download it to this number, too.” She rattled off the number Sofia had just given her, then hung up.

  Sofia raked a hand through her hair, officially exhausted. “What is happening right now?”

  “One of my girls is setting up a tracking program on your phone. It’ll show you D’s location in real time.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Are you serious? Does he know you’re tracking him?” When Noelle shrugged, indignation surged through her. “You’re doing it without his knowledge?”

  “Lose the high-and-mighty routine, Doc. You’re getting what you want, no?”

  “Why are you suddenly so eager to help me?” she demanded.

  Noelle smiled. “Who says I’m helping you?”

  Sofia narrowed her eyes, understanding dawning. “You’re helping yourself,” she said slowly. “Why? What do you gain from me going after D?”

  Before Noelle could answer, a tall dark-haired man strode into the room. He looked young, twenty-five maybe, but his voice was deep and masculine as he addressed the blonde.

  “Abby said you needed me?”

  Noelle nodded, then gestured to Sofia. “Have you met the doc?”

  He shook his head.

  “Sofia Amaro,” Noelle introduced. “She runs the clinic just outside Oaxaca. Fixes you boys up when you need fixing.”

  “Nice to meet you.” He extended a hand. “I’m Ash.”

  He spoke with a slight Southern drawl, and there was genuine pleasure in his vivid green eyes as he shook her hand and smiled at her.

  “You’re going to accompany the good doctor to Cancún to meet with D,” Noelle told Ash. “Make sure she stays safe.”

  He nodded as if the request was perfectly normal. “When do we leave?”

  “Now. Macgregor’s already there.” Noelle’s gaze flicked toward Sofia. “Excuse us, Doc.”

  Sofia didn’t have a chance to respond, because the two of them were already stepping into the hall, the doors closing behind them.

  What the hell was going on? Noelle had gone from not wanting her anywhere near D to offering her a personal escort to go see him.

  Hushed voices came from behind the doors, but Sofia couldn’t make out what they were saying. A moment later, Noelle returned. Alone.

  “Ash is gathering his gear. He’ll meet you outside in ten minutes, then take you to our airfield and get you to D.”

  Sofia was utterly dazed. “Thank you.” When Noelle started to turn away, she blurted out a question. “That’s it?”

  “Is there anything else we need to discuss?”

  “You tell me.” Frustration churned in her stomach, along with an unwelcome rush of nausea.

  God, no. Please don’t let her throw up right now. Her morning sickness wasn’t restricted to the mornings. It hit her the hardest at night, and the stress of this entire encounter was finally taking its toll on her.

  “How come you’re suddenly okay with me going to him?”

  Noelle arched one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Lord, this woman was the most enigmatic person Sofia had ever met. It made her want to scream.

  “Because clearly you’re Derek’s personal protector.” She couldn’t stop the sarcasm. “What, you’re not going to warn me not to hurt him?”

  That got her a mocking laugh. “Oh, honey, you’re not capable of hurting him.” Noelle’s amused gaze locked with hers. “He’s going to hurt you.”

  Sofia gulped. It hadn’t sounded like a threat. More like a promise. And the conviction in Noelle’s voice, the twinge of unmistakable pity, caused Sofia’s stomach to churn even harder.

  “I hope you know that,” the other woman continued. “And if you didn’t, then start wrapping your head around it, Doc. My husband likes you. He won’t want to see you hurt.”

  My husband likes you. Noelle couldn’t have made her opinion of Sofia any clearer if she’d spray-painted it on the walls. But Sofia didn’t give a shit what th
is woman thought of her. She didn’t care what anyone thought of her.

  She just wanted to talk to D, damn it. She just wanted to tell him about the baby.

  And then what? a bleak voice asked.

  Who fucking knew? Sofia certainly didn’t. What she did know was that she and Derek had a lot of decisions to make.

  • • •

  Liam Macgregor gaped at his teammate, wondering if maybe he’d wound up in an alternate dimension. A planet where Derek Pratt exuded sex appeal, where Derek Pratt flirted and kissed and fondled beautiful women like he was Don frickin’ Juan.

  The only thing that made sense about what Liam had just witnessed was D rendering the woman unconscious, because that was exactly what a ruthless motherfucker like D would do. But everything before the knocking-her-unconscious part? The kissing and the grinding and all that groping?

  Mind-boggling.

  “What are you doing here?” D snapped.

  “What do you think?” Liam snapped back. “Did you really believe I’d let you go after Sully by yourself?”

  Annoyance flashed in D’s coal black eyes as he lowered his weapon. “I already told you, this has nothing to do with Sullivan.”

  “Yeah, you did tell me that, and you were lying through your teeth.” Liam raised a brow. “I believed you up until the moment you called me Liam, asshole.”

  He couldn’t help but feel smug when he saw the amazement on D’s face, as if the man truly hadn’t realized his slipup. The other men called Liam by his first name all the time, but D had only ever referred to him as Macgregor or Boston, the not so clever nickname Sullivan had given him because he was from, shocker, Boston.

  “You’re here because of Sully,” Liam accused in a low voice. “I know it and you know it, so please have the decency to stop lying to me.”

  “How did you find me?” D demanded.

  Liam shrugged. “That doesn’t matter. I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.” He glanced at the tinted window of the SUV. “Who is she?”

  Silence.

  “How is she connected to Sullivan?” Liam pressed. “Or do you just go around knocking out innocent women for fun?”