by Elle Boon
“You okay?” Shayna blinked up at him, bringing him back to the present.
He stared down at her, realizing he was standing with her out in the middle of the open area unprotected. “Yeah, sorry. Was thinking.”
She patted his chest. “Well, if it hurts that much, stop it.”
Her bright smile brought a grin to his lips. “Come on smarty pants.” He took her elbow and led her into the store past the cashier. A young girl too engrossed in a magazine than them.
He stopped outside the ladies room. “Since it’s a single stall I want you to go in and lock the door. Don’t come out until I knock and let you know I’m out here. Got it?” He kept a firm grip on her arm, needing her to know he meant business.
With a nod, she gave a slight tug. “I got it.”
Listening until he heard the lock engage, he went across the hall to the men’s room and quickly used the facilities. The memory of the last woman he’d allowed himself to care about flashed before his eyes. She’d been the polar opposite of Shayna, blonde and blue eyed. Tall and willowy. Unbeknownst to him, she’d been an operative pretending to be an airheaded model. Hell, he should’ve known better, but he’d been blown away by her beauty. Not that he couldn’t attract beautiful women, but she’d been young and had pursued him. He’d not been one to follow fashion, but while he’d been in Paris on a mission, he had seen her on billboards. What operative would flash their face across anything so large he’d thought at the time? For months they’d dated, and he’d taken her to many different countries with her blowing off contracts with other modeling agencies. Or so he’d thought. Never had he taken her without protection. He’d never taken any woman without protection.
The man staring back at him was the same one he’d seen every day for the past thirty-five years. The same dark hair and green eyes. On more than one occasion he’d been told he could be Jason Momoa’s twin, except his green eyes. On the day he’d been confronted with Daviana and her duplicity, his world was rocked.
“What the hell is going on?” Mike stared at the scene before him, although it was pretty clear what was going on. Daviana, the woman he’d been sure was in love with him. The woman who he’d been sleeping with for the past few months, was in bed with a man. A man he knew was a criminal.
Daviana pulled the sheet over her naked body. “Royce, what are you doing back so early? I thought you would be gone until tomorrow?” Cold calculation stared back at him from her cornflower blue eyes.
His back straightened. The man next to her kept his eyes on Mike, but he didn’t make a move. “My trip didn’t take as long as I’d thought. I had planned to surprise you. Surprise,” he said without a hint of humor. His eyes tracked them both. Not once did his lover show an ounce of fear, or regret.
“Why don’t you go in the other room while we get dressed so we can talk like civilized adults.” Daviana made it sound like a demand coated in sugar.
He’d always thought her accent was sexy as fuck, but now it grated. “I have seen everything beneath the sheets, darling, so why don’t you both ease on out of there and get dressed where I can see you both.” His hand went to the gun he had in the back of his pants. In that brief second, he realized she truly had feelings for the man in the bed. Raul was a killer who cared for no one.
“Please, Mike,” she begged.
Taking his eyes off of the threat, he saw tears swimming in her eyes. A huge mistake he regretted instantly as Raul rolled out of the bed and began firing at him. Mike returned fire, but his fear for Daviana, even though she was not his woman kept his attention splintered.
He felt the sting of a bullet graze his arm, but he made it into the living area, assessing the best place to defend himself and worried for Daviana. “Fuck a duck.”
Raul emerged with Daviana in a man’s T-shirt, his arm banded about her throat. “I suggest you come on out, or I’ll kill the woman.”
Mike knew it wasn’t a threat, but he was on a mission. One that meant he had to choose. He looked around the corner, and could see the woman who he’d thought cared for him held against the man she’d clearly been screwing just moments before. Both individuals looked way too comfortable in the position they were in to be amateurs at the game. Mike wondered how many other men had fallen for the same trick as he had.
“I think I’ll just stay where I am until the rest of my team get here, Raul.” He let them both know he was onto them, watching to see how his words affected them both.
A gasp left Daviana’s mouth, while Raul showed no emotion.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Royce. You know it has been fun, but...well, it is survival of the fittest.” Raul pressed a kiss to his lovers’ cheek moments before he shoved her from him.
“What the hell, Raul?” she questioned him.
The operative held his gun up, pointing straight at her head. “Sorry, love, but I can’t be taken in.”
Daviana placed her hand over her throat, her other one over her stomach. Mike watched her head swing between where he was hiding and to Raul. “I’m pregnant.”
Bile swam into his stomach, but he knew it couldn’t be his. Hell, it could be. Condoms weren’t a hundred percent. Fuck!
“You said you were protected,” Raul accused.
A shiver shook her frame. “I had to have the inner uterine device taken out last month, but the doctor said I should still be fine.”
Raul laughed harshly. “Well, then I guess it’s a good thing I am about to do this then.”
Before Mike could stop him, Raul fired off two killing shots. One between Daviana’s eyes, and the other her heart. Not stopping to think, he aimed and shot Raul in the exact same areas, forgetting they needed the man alive. Forgetting the CIA wanted information from the bastard who’d just killed a woman who was possibly carrying his child.
Mike came back to the present at the sound of someone banging on the door. Shit! He quickly washed and dried his hands. He’d been lost in the past and a nightmare that had nearly unmanned him. He’d hoped like hell Daviana was lying about being pregnant, but when the autopsy had come back, his world nearly crumbled. Had he handled the entire situation differently, she may have lived to become a mother. Her child could be alive today. Hell, he had to quit thinking about that fateful day and concentrate on saving Shayna from some crazed stalker.
He knocked on the women’s bathroom door and waited. When she didn’t open or say anything after a couple minutes, he tried the door, shocked to find it unlocked. Easing the door open he swept inside to find it empty.
He went to the front of the store, making a quick look around, then to the young clerk. “Did you see a woman leave here?”
The girl lay the magazine down and gave him her attention. “Um, yeah. I mean, there was a man and woman who left a few minutes ago.”
Mike tossed a hundred dollar bill on the counter. “Did you see which way they went?”
She looked at the money, then at him. “He was pretty scary looking.” She picked up the money before continuing. “I think they headed north in a black SUV.”
“Thank you,” he said tossing another large bill down.
“Is she your girlfriend?” She bit her pierced lip.
Without giving himself too much time to think about what he was saying, he nodded. “She’s my everything.”
“Go get her then. I thought she looked scared, but then again, I wasn’t paying too much attention.”
The young girl looked sheepish, but he didn’t have time to chat. He raised his hand in farewell, and was out the door. Inside his vehicle, he pulled up the GPS tracker he’d placed on Shayna without her knowledge. He’d sewn the small device into the hem of the dress while she’d been showering as a precaution. Now he was glad. While he drove, the monitor pulled up her location, and sure as shit, the beacon lit up, showing they were heading North. His breath whooshed out of him.
“Call Grey Holden,” he ordered the wireless cell.
Ringing echoed through the car. “Holden here, this b
etter be good.”
“Shayna has been taken. I’ve got a tracker on her, but wanted to give you an update. Do you have anything new for me about the person who took the violin?” He wouldn’t normally admit to anything until he had fixed a fuckup, but with Shayna he’d do anything to ensure her safety.
“We’ve located the violin, but not the buyer, or the thief.” Grey’s tone held no inflection.
“Keep me posted if you find anything else, and I’ll update you after I get Shayna back.” Mike explained what happened, leaving out his trip down memory lane, then disconnected before Grey could ask more.
His vehicle roared down the highway, sliding between cars. At one point he took the shoulder, uncaring the gravel was tearing up his undercarriage. The sight of the red dot indicating Shayna was growing closer, had his heart racing at the sight.
“I’m coming for you Sile, hang tough.” He gripped the wheel in tight fingers.
Up ahead he saw two identical SUVs but only one had his woman inside. Gut churning, he hung back. Worry for her safety ate at him. If he pressed, the kidnapper could kill her without allowing him to negotiate her release. Or, they could wreck, injuring or killing her in the process. His last option was to wait until they stopped. Waiting wasn’t his strong suit.
Another half hour flew by, each second felt like a year, until finally the vehicle he’d been trailing pulled off the highway. Mike stayed back farther than he liked. The small airstrip in the middle of nowhere left him no choice. He couldn’t allow the other vehicle with Shayna inside to get close enough, yet as they neared, another vehicle sat waiting.
“Fuck a duck,” he muttered.
He reached into the backseat locating the weapons bag he always kept handy, setting it in the passenger seat. It may not be an ideal situation, nor the best place to die, but he’d go down in a blaze of bullets before he’d allow Shayna to think he hadn’t done his best to save her.
His foot hit the gas, roaring in front of the SUV. The startled look of the driver along with the fear in Shayna’s eyes had resolve racing along his veins. His sweet little ride was more than a fast car. It was equipped with monocoque, the principal component of the car’s chassis. The monocoque includes the driver’s survival cell and cockpit, which is surrounded by “deformable crash-protection structures” that absorb energy during a crash, plus a 6mm layer of carbon and Zylon (used in armored vests), so things like carbon fiber splinters don’t injure the driver in the event of a crash very similar to NASCAR drivers’ cars. He spun the wheel until he faced the SUV, and waited, expecting the man driving to stop, but prepared to be rammed. In his sporty car, he knew the big vehicle would appear to be the threat.
Through the windshield he saw cold calculation enter the man behind the wheel’s eyes. Moments before impact, Mike pressed down on the gas, and turned, aiming for the wheels. The front two tires flattened as his own car took a slight hit on the back end. He spun the car around again, this time he was the one with the upper hand. The plane on the tarmac fired up, the car and its occupants raced away, only to be stopped by several vehicles pouring in. Mike recognized the Omega Team leader, but his focus was centered on Shayna. The black vehicle kept moving forward, the flat tires slowing it down.
Having no other option, he accelerated, aiming for the front of the vehicle. The impact was jarring to both of them, the airbags filled the interior of the SUV, making the other man swerve then come to a stop. Mike jerked the handle of his car door open, hopped out and rounded the wreckage with a singular intent. He had his gun in one hand, going to Shayna’s door first. The locked handle pissed him off, but he kept his cool. The airbag on her side had exploded, but he could see her trying to push it aside, then watched as she noticed he was there.
“Open the door,” he ordered.
She did as he instructed, then he was holding her in his arms, something he feared he’d never get to do again. Her trembling had him wanting to hold her in the most primitive way, but they were far from out of danger.
“Come on. I need you to get in the car, and stay there.” Mike made sure he kept her behind him, listening for the other man.
Shayna didn’t protest. A fact he’d reward her for later, he mentally swore.
Once he had her safely inside his car, he went back to check on the driver, finding the man gone. Pulse racing, he inched around the hood, barely missing being shot, he saw a man raise his arm, the gun was leveled and then a shot rang out.
Mike rolled, coming back up and taking his aim, firing where he’d seen the shooter. A grunt, and thud followed. Not willing to make another mistake, he inched over, finding the man lying on the dirt with a gunshot wound to his shoulder and a contusion to his forehead. Mike kicked the gun that had fallen from the kidnapper away before he flipped the man onto his stomach. Using zip ties he always carried to restrain him, he didn’t allow himself to relax.
“Release me, asshole, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” The Russian accent gave him a slight pause.
Mike rolled him back over, knowing it was causing the man more pain. “Who hired you?”
The Russian spit dirt out of his mouth. “I will only speak if you promise me amnesty.”
Hearing him say such words shouldn’t have shocked Mike, but they did.
Movement off to his left, had him spinning, gun up and ready.
“Ah, now, I don’t think that is necessary, my friend.”
A tall willowy man in his late forties stood with another man flanking him. The one who spoke looked almost feminine aside from his prominent Adams apple and deep voice. He also had a Russian accent, only his was more polished.
Mike was no dummy. The real threat was the man behind the sophisticated one. The brute of a man had to be close to six and a half feet tall and weighed more than Mike did, which was saying a lot since Mike weighed in at two hundred and fifty pounds at last count.
“I don’t believe we’re friends,” Mike said in a cold voice.
The man who’d spoke tilted his head. “Well now, that’s a shame. I would’ve preferred to have been friendly, than...not.” He lifted a pale hand, then stepped aside.
The giant stepped forward. Mike took aim, and shot the big bastard in his right kneecap. Fuck being civilized. It was one of the reasons he was known as the killer. He didn’t play nice, and he sure as shit didn’t stand around and shake his dick in a measuring contest.
“What the bloody hell?” Pale guy asked. “Are you crazy?”
He nodded. “Does a bear shit in the woods?” Mike looked at the big guy rolling around on the ground. Pussy. Shoot a man in the knee and they get all crybaby like.
The man Mike had begun to call Pale guy took a step back, then shook his arms out. “What does that even mean? Of course bears shit in the woods.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, now, turn around,” his words were cut off as the man tossed a knife with precision at him. The move was so unexpected, Mike barely had a second to realize what was happening. The pain sent him to the ground, dropping his gun, which was clearly the man’s intent.
“Tsk, tsk. You should never judge a book by its cover, Mr. Royce.” Polished black boots came into his line of sight.
His right arm hung limply from the knife imbedded in it. “And you should never wear those shoes. They don’t go with that belt. Don’t you watch Fashion Police?” Mike gritted out.
“What is this you speak of? These are Armani.” The toe of the shoe in question lifted as if the man was checking them out.
Mike ripped the knife out of his shoulder. The searing pain was pushed back as he used the distraction of clothing choices. He stabbed down with the point of the blade through the expensive leather. The squeal had him smiling for only a moment, before a swift kick to his injured shoulder had him dropping the weapon and rolling away. He came back up onto his feet, his mind already calculating his next move.
“Armani, Sharmani. They are ugly as fuck, just the same as you. What the heck are you into? Twilig
ht or what? Don’t you watch the news? Edward is out this year. Sparkly vampires are no longer the in thing.” Mike shook his head and pretended to be sad for the man’s ignorance. He could tell this man truly took his appearance as the utmost importance. Although he’d clearly underestimated him once, he wouldn’t again.
Limping slightly, the pale man moved forward. “You don’t know who you are messing with. I am richer than Midas. I pay to have only the best of everything. I can buy and sell you ten times over. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers.
His words were beginning to make a bit of sense to Mike. This man had seen Shayna, and like a child, he wanted her. More than likely she wasn’t the first woman he’d decided to collect. The thought sickened him. “So you do what? Steal them and keep them until you get tired of playing your sick games? Sort of like a spoiled little boy. Sorry to burst your bubble, little man, but you picked the wrong lady this time.”
Hate burned in the man’s eyes. “I am not little.”
Mike couldn’t believe the expertise with which the other man began to fight. He dodged the flying kick, grunting in pain as several punches landed on his injured shoulder and unprotected side. Finally, he pushed the pain to the back of his mind. Knowing his right arm was completely out of commission, he employed his martial arts training, focusing on his legs.
With a spinning kick, he knocked the man to the ground, then fell on top of him, hitting him unmercifully with his one good arm until he no longer fought back. He pictured Shayna at the hands of this man until he was through with her. Her beautiful face no longer lit with laughter. “Never,” he roared.
“Mike, you can stop now. I think he’s stopped fighting, man.” Grey Holden’s deep voice penetrated his tunnel vision, yet he needed to ensure Shayna’s safety. He couldn’t allow her eyes to close. She couldn’t end up like the last woman he’d cared about.
“Mike, please,” Shayna whispered.
He looked up to see the object of his desires standing with tears streaking down her face, then glanced down to see the bloody pulp of a mess he’d made of the monster beneath him. He looked at his one bruised and bloody hand, then at her beautiful face, and once pristine white dress. It took monumental effort for him to climb off of the limp body beneath him. He watched the chest raise and fall so at least he hadn’t killed the bastard.