Hell & Back (Outbreak Task Force)

by Julie Rowe

  Her worry and fear faded in a hot rush of fury.

  Mind games.

  This bastard thought he could demoralize, terrify, and break her. Well, she had better things to do, like kicking his ass.

  “I hate to interrupt your villain monologue,” she said, working hard to maintain a casual tone. “But so far you’re zero out of three. None of us are dead. How can you expect me to take you seriously when you can’t even get the math right?”

  “Death is coming. Only—”

  “That’s just it,” she interrupted again. “I don’t think it is. I’m beginning to suspect, since it seems to be the only topic of concern for you, that it’s coming for you instead. You’re surrounded by law enforcement and in a building designed to stop you from getting where you want to go. I’d suggest trying to escape if you can, but I don’t think you’re that smart. I think you’re going to continue to let your emotions tell you what to do.”

  He snarled some words in Arabic she didn’t understand, but if they weren’t swear words, she’d eat her boots.

  When he stopped to take in a breath, she asked, “Do the mercenaries on your payroll know you don’t care if they live or die? Did you tell them there’s an exit plan, even though that’s been impossible since the moment you killed the first guard at the security shack?”

  He yelled more unintelligible words into the phone so loud she had to put a couple of inches of air between her ear and the receiver.

  Movement at the edge of her vision jerked her head around. Henry strode toward her. He pressed the hang-up button on the phone, then took the receiver from her and left it on the desk.

  He took her by the shoulders and leaned down until his forehead nearly touched hers. “What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, enunciating each word precisely, as if it had taken every ounce of control he had.

  What was it with men today? If anyone should have their feelings out of whack, it should be her. The last forty-eight hours had been one clusterfuck after another, with no sign of the fuckery letting up.

  “Exactly what I told you I’d do. I answered the phone. Only it wasn’t DS, it was the same man who’d called me during Nate’s kidnapping. All he said was, ‘You’re dead, your brother is dead, the cr…man with you is dead.’”

  “So, you thought it was a good idea to tell him what to expect?”

  “What are you talking about? I didn’t tell him anything but that he wasn’t going to succeed, let alone live through this if he didn’t stop immediately and surrender.”

  Thump. Ruby counted slowly in her head. One, two… Thump.

  The cracking noise in the ceiling screamed its way down the hallway.

  “I don’t think surrender is on the menu.” Henry’s voice was raspy, as if he’d been shouting for a while. He didn’t sound as angry as a few seconds ago, so why was there a scowl on his face?

  She tried to step back, but his grip on her shoulders kept her in place. She wiggled a little, but he still didn’t let go.

  He fixed his glare on her again. “You gave away a lot of information when you were taunting him.”

  The accusation bit deep and she sucked in a breath. “No, I didn’t—”

  “He knows we have plans in place to keep him surrounded,” Henry interrupted. “He knows that we know who he has with him, and that they’re mercenaries. He also knows we’re a lot more prepared for him than not.”

  The adrenaline she’d been coasting on evaporated into nothing, leaving her muscles quivering in exhaustion and her stomach spinning. Her thoughts rewound through what she’d said.

  Had she…? Yes, she’d said all of that.

  “Well, I’m an idiot.” The words came out of her mouth in a tight bundle. “I apologize.”

  The tension in Henry’s body slowly leaked out of him. “If it’s not someone you can trust, don’t tell them anything about anything.”

  She nodded. She knew better, damn it, but she’d let that asshole goad her into goading him.

  He sighed and released her. “Come give me a hand with positioning a few new cameras around this area. I’d prefer to not be in sight if he manages to break through to this level.” He walked out of the tiny office, leaving Ruby to follow in his wake like a lost duckling who’d imprinted on a tiger instead of its mother—two steps back, but only one step away from danger.

  Chapter Thirteen

  11:43 p.m.

  Henry dropped his duffel and urged Ruby to take off her backpack inside the clean room area of the women’s change rooms. As soon as she did, he opened it and pulled out a bottle of water and a granola bar for each of them.

  “Fuel up,” he ordered.

  She nodded, slowly unwrapped the bar, and took a bite.

  Satisfied, he opened his water and drank half of it down in one go. When he dropped his arm, he caught her staring at him with a heated, slumberous gaze that woke up parts of him he didn’t need at attention.

  “For fuck’s sake, don’t look at me like that.” His voice sounded rough even to himself, like he was one second from losing his shit.

  Need hit him like a big-assed missile, lighting him up.

  Maybe the lack of sleep and stress were getting to them both. Whatever the cause, he needed to keep his hands to himself.

  She blinked slowly then frowned. “I can look at you however I want.”

  Henry bent over her until they were nearly nose to nose. “Do you have any idea what it does to me to see your desire for me on your face?”

  Surprise widened her eyes, and a blush crept up her neck and into her cheeks. She whispered, “No, what does it do?”

  He put his hands on her shoulders despite knowing that touching her was a mistake, a distraction, and the only damn thing he wanted to do for the rest of his miserable life. Which might be pretty damned short given the tap dance those assholes upstairs were using to pound the floor.

  “It makes me want to strip you, stroke you, and fuck you until neither of us can walk.” The words came out with edges sharp enough to slice his mouth bloody.

  Her eyes dilated, and her breathing became ragged. “Um…okay,” she said, biting her lower lip.

  Okay?

  He bared his teeth. “Are you trying to incite me to riot?”

  One of her hands slid up his arm to cup his cheek. “If I say yes, will you?”

  She wasn’t making any sense. “Will I what?”

  “Riot?”

  She looked so fucking…hopeful.

  For one terrifying moment, his need for her slipped its leash and he yanked her up to her feet.

  She made a sound, a sort of squeak that allowed him to grab hold of his inner Neanderthal and haul him back to the land of rational thought. But that moment of freedom from the bonds he’d wrapped around himself had been glorious.

  He wanted more.

  She hung in his grip, her eyes searching his gaze, and made another sound, a low, disappointed moan. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t hold back. I want the part of you that’s dangerous and rough and dominant.”

  Holy fuck.

  He pulled her up so she was an inch from his face, her feet all but dangling without touching the floor.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

  “You don’t know what I want.” Her face was red, her breathing uneven, and she stared at him like he was the only other person alive on the whole planet.

  “And what is that exactly?”

  “I want you. All of you. Every part of you.” That crooked grin widened. “Please.”

  He closed his eyes, unable to meet the need in her gaze for another second without acting on it. “I’m not…” Good enough, man enough, gentle enough. There were so many words he could use to finish that sentence.

  A brush of soft lips feathered over his ear
.

  “You are.” Her breath against his skin sent an arrow of need straight to his cock. “I need you to fuck me. Give me some more of those orgasms you gave me last time.”

  He almost burst out laughing at how bold her order was, and the rage monster at the core of him took a step back from the edge. “Orgasms, huh?” Maybe an orgasm or two and a few minutes of rest would do both of them good. Knocking her out with pleasure would keep the beast inside him satisfied for a while, too. Win-win.

  “The only way we do this is if you have a safe word, and you promise to use it if you don’t like, or are uncomfortable with, what I’m doing.”

  She nodded so hard whiplash might be an issue.

  “You’ll take what I dish out, how I dish it out.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “What’s the word?”

  She stared at him, silent for almost too long. “Fish,” she finally said.

  Fish? Whatever.

  He ripped out the brakes holding himself back and threw them as far away as he could.

  His mouth slammed down on hers. She made a noise, and for a long second he was too drunk on her taste for it to register. Then it hit him. Had he hurt her? She couldn’t very well use the safe word when he’d taken complete control of her mouth. She made the noise again, and he realized it wasn’t pain or panic but pleasure she was voicing.

  Her arms were around his neck, and she climbed up him until she could wrap her legs around his hips.

  He lost himself in her kiss, her taste better than food, alcohol, or air. The memory of sliding into her tight, wet heat scalded him.

  She rubbed herself against him, and the pleasure dropped him to his knees. He stripped off her pants and panties down as far as her ankles, spun her around, and bent her over the bench.

  He got his jeans and underwear down to midthigh, his cock pressed up against her, and he paused as a hazy idea occurred to him. Foreplay.

  Leaving his cock in place to tease and tantalize, he bent over her, covering her, and slid his hands up her shirt to squeeze and pluck at her nipples. She bucked, trying to thrust her hips back and force his cock in her.

  He slapped her ass, one tap, and she moaned, her head falling forward. Holy fuck, she liked that.

  He slid his hand down her back, tapped her other cheek, then slid his middle finger into her pussy.

  Her thighs quivered, and she blew out a wailing, “Please.”

  He twisted his hand and fucked her with his finger. “I give the orders, remember?”

  She bucked, and he pulled his hand out and smacked her ass again.

  Her breath caught, and she keened deep in her throat, her hips bucking and thrusting backward.

  So fucking hot.

  He used two fingers to fuck her and groaned at how tight she was. Tight and wet. He was going to lose his mind. Fuck the assholes trying to kill them, fuck his conscience constantly telling him he was too damaged and damned to put his hands on her. He was going to have her.

  He lined up his cock and thrust inside her all the way to the hilt. Her muscles squeezed while she screamed, and he let a fierce grin split his face.

  A few taps on her ass, one thrust, and she’d orgasmed. He wanted to make her come again and again, until she knew without a shadow of a doubt whom she belonged to. Until she never tried to shoulder the shit she had to deal with in life alone ever again.

  He set a fast pace and tried a couple of different angles before he found one that wound her up and pushed her over after only a minute or two. He resisted the urge to join her, thrusting through her climax until she sobbed and babbled his name over and over. He’d never forget the sound of her voice at this moment—drunk and drugged on nothing more than him.

  He slowed down, building up to a climax that would devastate them both. When she came the third time, he did, too, the pleasure an intense grip on his spine that made his body shudder.

  Ruby slumped over the bench, nearly unconscious. He checked her over then pulled out and went to the toilet area to grab some toilet paper. He cleaned her and himself, then carefully lifted her away from the bench and laid her on the floor on top of her clothes. He pulled an emergency blanket out of his bag and spread it over her.

  She needed rest more than anything now. More than food, or water, or even him. He needed rest, too, but he had to set up a couple of things before it was safe enough to allow himself to lie down next to her.

  They’d spent several minutes planting new tiny cameras in the hallways along with some explosives to make it harder for the mercenaries to reach them and the pathogens stored a few yards away.

  The assholes were pounding away at the floor around the elevator with something other than explosives, some kind of heavy equipment or construction tool. The reinforced structure between the floors was slowly disintegrating and failing, and debris was now all over the floor.

  If they managed to keep law enforcement off them long enough, they’d probably break through. He’d brought enough stuff to create a few traps that should keep them away from the containment area long enough for him to initiate the last-resort protocol to protect the world from the microscopic death preserved here.

  Hopefully, they’d have time to get out.

  He quickly set his traps, something in each hallway leading away from the elevator. A pro might spot and avoid them, but the debris from the ceiling was doing a good job of camouflaging his cameras and explosives.

  He set up more surprises in the two routes to the containment area—the male and female change rooms—then went back to Ruby, snuggled up behind her, and let himself rest for twenty minutes.

  The floor moved underneath him, part roll, part shake, and all bad news.

  Henry was awake and on his knees, his handgun out before he really realized he was conscious.

  Next to him, Ruby woke with a low gasp and levered herself off the floor with one arm. “What?”

  An explosion split the air into a million pieces before it could reform into a tattered whole. Even the air felt different—lighter and unfiltered.

  “They got through,” Henry said, his voice fuzzy on the edges. He got to his feet, holstered his gun, and pulled out his tablet, navigating to the app that allowed him to monitor the additional cameras they’d set up.

  The area around the elevator was a mess of larger pieces of debris, but no people.

  “But they aren’t in yet,” he told Ruby. He glanced down at her. The emergency blanket had pooled at her waist, and he found it impossible to stop staring at her breasts. Hers were gorgeous, and he hadn’t had enough time to explore them. He kicked himself in the ass.

  “Henry,” Ruby said, her tone incredulous. “Now is not a good time to be ogling me.”

  “It’s always a good time for that,” he said. “You’re beautiful.”

  She rolled her eyes and began dressing. “I’m naked.”

  Yeah, so? “And your point is?”

  Small-arms gunfire penetrated the walls of the decontamination room. He checked his cameras. Two men were crouched on the floor, ropes leading up through a hole in the ceiling hanging behind them. They scanned the area, then one of them moved toward the closest entrance to the containment area: the women’s change room.

  There was no hesitation—the man knew exactly where to go.

  Fuckers.

  “We’ve got to move. We’ve got two hostiles down here with us and they’re wasting no time.”

  She pulled her shirt over her head and picked up her bag. “Let’s go.”

  They rushed through the shower area and out the exit. The door hadn’t finished closing when another explosion shook the building. This one wasn’t blunted by thick walls, and it set his head ringing and made both Ruby and him duck.

  “Someone’s dead,” Henry said. “That was the trap I set in the change room.”

 
“But you said there were two guys, right?”

  “And more could show up, so yeah, we’re not safe yet.”

  “How many more traps did you set?”

  “A couple, but whoever is coming will be more cautious now.” The clean room they were in was the last stop before entering the containment area.

  Normally, they’d get into one of the positive air pressure hazmat suits tethered to their own air supply, but that wasn’t going to work. They needed to leave via the emergency exit located at the opposite end of the containment area. Preferably after all the hostiles were dead.

  That meant using the backup suits with N95 air filter masks instead of their own air supply. Not quite as safe, but still acceptable. As long as none of the pathogens escaped containment and were either taken out of this facility on purpose or inadvertently on the surface of a suit or mask. Accidental exposure could happen if those morons used explosives on the freezers. Even a well-placed bullet could make things dicey by halting the flow of nitrogen that kept things cold.

  They got the backup suits on, which were head-to-toe white Tyvek material with orange-colored hoods that only left enough of the face open to see and talk. A pair of safety goggles were next, sitting flush with their skin all the way around so no stray aerosol particles could get into their eyes. The N95 masks snugged up to the goggles and sealed around the mouth and nose.

  They looked like a couple of extras from a bad zombie movie, only this wasn’t fiction, and the bugs, bullets, and bombs were real.

  Henry led Ruby to the entrance of the containment room and had to take off his goggles so the retina scanner could get a clear picture of his eye.

  They went inside, closed the door, then he pushed the red lockdown button.

  The front of the room was all specially reinforced, bullet- and bomb-proof glass. It was supposed to be good enough to withstand up to fifty-caliber ammunition and standard fragmentation grenades.

  A couple of seconds after he pressed the button, a spider’s web of steel chains slid down in front of the glass, providing another layer of protection. It was supposed to delay any kind of attack long enough for help to arrive. But if the terrorists or mercenaries managed to carry down more than grenades, it might not be enough.