by Lea Griffith
“Kadar says if you give us the woman, we are to let you go,” said the man holding Allie by the hair and pressing a snub-nosed revolver to her temple. “He no want Endgame problems.”
King lowered his weapon as he stood casually and circled to the other side of the room. This put ten feet between him and the man holding Allie. He didn’t look at her face, too afraid her fear, or her bravery, would sway his focus. He needed his control right now. “How about this,” he began. “How about you go back and tell Kadar he can shove his offer up his ass, and that because you let her stay with me, I let you live.”
Sweat poured down the other man’s face, and his smell could have knocked a horse down at fifty paces. His eyes were big and round, dominating a painfully thin face. His hands shook like a junkie needing a fix. None of that was good. The man wouldn’t kill her on purpose, but by accident would leave her no less dead.
The grip he had on her arm had to be painful. King made a mental note to make him suffer for the bruises he was surely leaving on her skin. The men at the Rover must’ve realized King’s attention was divided and were about to break through the door, so his wish would go ungranted. Sadly, this would be a quick kill.
“I go back without her, I’m dead anyway,” the man stammered.
King nodded his head. “I thought you’d say that,” he murmured.
His gaze narrowed to the spot between the man’s eyebrows. One breath, and he tracked the drop of sweat from the man’s hairline down his cheek. Two breaths, and King let his weapon become an extension of his hand.
Between his third breath and the next, he raised his hand and took a single shot.
The man fell back, dead instantly. Allie fell forward to her knees, grunted, and pushed up immediately before reaching for the dead man’s weapon.
“How many rounds?” King asked as he pulled his backup weapon from his boot.
“It’s not loaded,” she replied mournfully, glancing at him, alarm riding her gaze.
“What the hell is up with these dudes?” He handed her his backup Kimber. “You know how to use this?”
She nodded, the motion jerky. His heart beat slow and hard as the urge to comfort her nearly overrode his need to protect her. This woman was dangerous—so very dangerous to his well-being.
“Good. There’s a single room in the back. Get there now. You meet anybody on the way, use that.” He glanced at her, adrenaline flooding his body, making his hearing and his sight sharper. Someone kicked repeatedly at the front door. They’d tried shooting the lock, but it was reinforced and hadn’t broken under repeated attempts.
She didn’t move.
“Now, Allie. You wanna live, right? Get to the room,” King demanded, and something in his tone must have gotten through because she took off.
The door was about to give, leaving him a second to thank whoever was watching over them that Allie had vacated the room. King breathed through his bloodlust and rage. How dare they touch her? How dare anyone try to take her? His emotions were amped up by combat, but in the back of his mind, he acknowledged she’d gotten into a place inside him he’d never known existed. And she’d done it pretty fast.
The door finally crashed in and King fired a shot, felling the man where he stood. He turned and glanced down the hallway before he stepped back into the main room. There’d been eight men total. Seven were dead, and one remained unaccounted for. More were heading their way, he was sure.
He waited, allowing a smile to curve his lips when he heard heavy breaths and footsteps from the direction of the kitchen area. One more shot, one more kill, and King was moving.
He took the same path to the back room that Allie had. Once he entered, he locked and bolted the steel-reinforced door, closing them in and ensuring them an opportunity to get away.
Each Endgame Ops safe house had a war room. Filled with untraceable weaponry and electronics, the room was safeguarded by a retinal scanner and came with a getaway tunnel and a self-destruct mechanism.
“I hear another vehicle coming down the road,” Allie whispered.
“Damn it,” he ground out. He should have heard it.
King placed his eye at the scanner as his mind moved at Mach 1, concocting scenarios for escape and then discarding them just as quickly. He’d have to kill the men pulling up, blow this house to smithereens, and then haul ass out of this death zone. They’d have at least two miles to travel on foot before they could reach the backup vehicle he’d stowed two weeks ago.
In the game of war, nothing was ever fail-safe. He’d trained his men to plan for every eventuality. King had set this operation up himself. They’d received intel eight months ago that Savidge had a courier based in Cameroon. If King had found the courier, he and the courier would already be in that backup vehicle, heading toward the seaside resort port of Kribi.
Once the scan registered, another room opened up, and King turned to Allie. “Anybody comes in here, shoot to kill. Give me two minutes to gather everything we need, and then we’ll head out.”
“They can get in?”
He kept his gaze forward. If he looked at her, he’d feel the need to comfort her, and they didn’t have time for that. “That’s a steel-reinforced door, and these windows are bulletproof. But you should always be ready for anything. I’ve seen you knock a dude out with your head, and I watched you cock that gun like a pro. I think you’ve got this.”
When she didn’t respond, he entered the war room, walking to the far wall. He lifted a shelf that turned over before collapsing into the wall and presenting a control pad. A moment later, a small door in the floor rolled back, revealing an abandoned irrigation tunnel. Dust filtered into the war room as King fit rounds of firepower into a knapsack. He’d been a sniper by trade as a SEAL. It had been mandatory that every Endgame Ops safe house have his preferred sniper weapon of choice, the M110 SASS with AN/PVS-10 Sniper Night Sight. His SEAL teammates had always teased him for using an army-preferred weapon, but those rifles killed really well.
And at the end of the day, that’s what a sniper needed. A killer weapon.
He found the single M110 and broke it down, stuffing the parts into a different knapsack before strapping both packs to his back. He pulled another bag from a compartment and loaded it with protein bars, a first-aid kit, two changes of clothes, and rounds for the SIG Sauer P226 he was about to give her. It was a 9mm with a little less recoil than his Kimber and something she should be able to handle effectively.
“Get in here,” he said.
He smelled her before he saw her from the corner of his eye. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Wildflowers—the scent reminded him of the field behind the trailer where he’d grown up. King shook his head, silently berating himself before he pulled out a headlamp and dropped to the floor beside the hole. He leaned over and shone the light into the opening, searching for any signs of occupation or recent activity and finding nothing but spiderwebs and dirt. The tunnel had been built with the original structure years ago. The idea had been to fill the tunnel with water so the surrounding groves would have water in the dry seasons. Endgame had taken advantage of the existing tunnel and created an escape route by blocking the exterior water access. They had also shored up the tunnel with wood planks.
King stood, grabbed the backpack, and held it out for her. “Strap this on.”
She didn’t hesitate, but she was trembling. He couldn’t stand the thought of her fear.
“They’re coming, but it will take an act of God or some serious luck for them to get in before we’re long gone,” he said calmly.
She glanced up, her gaze skewering him to the spot. Damn, what she did to him with those eyes.
“See that?” He pointed to the hole in the floor.
She nodded.
“That’s how we’re leaving.”
“Of course it is,” she mused as she glanced down. “A dark hole in the
ground with creepy, crawly animals and—” She looked up at him again. “Who are you?”
A loud bang sounded from beyond the door, and adrenaline pounded through his bloodstream. He took his backup piece from her, strapped it in his thigh holster, and handed her the SIG.
“No time for chitchat. Safety’s on. Put this in your waistband. I need you to get down that ladder and move to the side,” he ordered.
She stood there, staring at him, lip trembling and calling to everything protective inside him. He did not need this. Not right now. Hell, not ever.
Another bang rocked the small house, followed by the sound of something large battering the door.
“Need to move now, Allie. We gotta get gone,” he informed her as he bolted the door to the war room and set the timer on the explosives under the floors of every room in the house.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“No time. Get in the hole.”
Finally, thank Christ, she started down the ladder.
“There’re spiders and…stuff down here.”
“Stop being a baby and move, woman!”
She cursed—a really raunchy one that had his lips tugging up. He set his watch, pulled his headlamp down, sealed the trapdoor, and started after her.
“We have about two minutes before this entire tunnel is blown to hell and back. A hundred meters in front of us is a steel door. We need to be beyond that point before everything goes bang.”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her with him. She kept up, and he was grateful she did when his watch beeped. They had ten seconds to get beyond the door that was finally in sight. “Move your ass, Allie,” he urged.
He tugged her through the small doorway, pushed her to continue running, and bolted the steel door.
The concussion of the bomb exploding knocked King off his feet. He heard her coughing as dust flew. Clumps of dirt fell between the wooden beams above them, and smoke poured in past the door. “Run!”
In the light from his lamp, he saw her get to her feet and take off like a rocket. They had another hundred meters to go. He overtook her, once again grabbing her hand and pulling her behind him. She didn’t fall, didn’t falter, and basically held her own until he came to a set of wooden steps.
King handed her the rucksack and shrugged off his backpack as he took his Kimber from his waistband. “Stay here,” he told her as he started up the steps.
The door opened into a plantain grove, but there was no telling how much cover they’d have once they exited. Water leaked from the slats of the door above them, forming puddles over the dirt floor. Some drops clung to the thick mat of webs hanging in the corners. In the light of his headlamp, they reminded King of shiny diamonds. He flicked off the light, not wanting any hint of their presence to disturb the field above them. Darkness fell like a hot, smothering blanket.
He hoped the men following them wouldn’t see them fleeing. Maybe he’d get lucky and they’d be too busy dealing with the aftermath of the explosion. It wouldn’t stop the bastards, but it’d sure as hell slow them down.
He stopped and turned to her. “You ready?”
He couldn’t see her in the darkness, but knew she nodded. There was that scent again—wildflowers and some indefinable essence that King recognized was all Allie. He licked his lips, her taste a memory there but also a growing need in his blood.
“Cat got your tongue?”
She made a choking sound, and he didn’t know if she was laughing or crying.
“Better let him keep it,” he mused.
He continued up the stairs, made it to the top, and started to push open the door, but her voice stopped him. “Why’s that?” she asked, and her husky tone made his knees weak.
“Why’s what?”
“Better let the cat keep my tongue…”
He couldn’t see her in the darkness, which was probably a good thing. “Well now, darlin’, better the cat than me,” he teased before he pushed the door open to freedom.
Chapter 5
Rain pelted Allie from the pitch-black sky. She drew in a deep breath and glanced up out of the hole. Night fell quickly in Africa. There were no sprawling cities spreading their fake yellow light in the darkness of Cameroon. Never had she been more grateful for that than right now. They could hide in the dark.
She took two of the steps and raised her head to let the weeping sky take the dirt from her face. She was suddenly very, very tired. And in her gut, she knew they were nowhere near done running.
“Allie, let’s move,” King commanded. His big hand appeared in front of her face and she grabbed for it, using his strength to replace what she’d lost back in that tunnel.
She climbed the remaining steps and slithered out of the hole. She lay on her back beside him before raising her head to see the burning structure they’d fled. She could hear the pop and hiss of burning wood and the occasional static percussion of ammunition discharging, but no shadowy shapes emerged from the flames to chase them.
“It just blew right up, didn’t it?” she said more to herself than anyone else.
His strangled laughter made her warm. “On purpose at that.”
He shifted beside her, and she mimicked his posture. This left her on her stomach facing away from the burning house.
“See those trees ahead? We make it to the trees and we’re home free. Stay low. Grab my belt and hold on. The earth is pocked, so try to stay out of the holes, okay?”
She nodded. He grunted.
“Cat still got your tongue?” he asked.
“Better him than you,” Allie responded.
“She can be taught,” he murmured as he easily shoved to his feet and reached for her hand.
It was the third time he’d done that—grabbed her hand. She didn’t want to notice how perfectly his palm aligned with hers, didn’t want to recognize the flare of awareness that sang up her arm and centered in her chest.
He took off, and before she embarrassed herself by being dragged behind him, she released his hand, notched her finger in one of his belt loops, and followed.
He was dangerous. She had no time for a spec ops soldier with an unknown purpose. He was also a huge smart-ass. But his smile, when it appeared, ripped a hole inside her. Allie knew he didn’t smile much—his was too rusty, too new when it appeared. The man had no laugh lines either.
She stepped in one of the holes he’d warned her about and stumbled, releasing his belt loop as she went to a knee but forcing herself to remain calm. She gained her feet and continued on, doing her best not to slow them down.
They finally reached the edge of the trees, and Allie glanced back, struggling to catch her breath. By her guess, they were at least half a mile from the burning house. They were in a copse of towering trees now, hidden by the woods and darkness.
“Good girl,” she thought she heard him mumble.
“I’m not a girl,” she said around a deep breath.
“No shit,” he said in a louder voice. “Girls don’t look at a man like you looked at me on that plane.”
Her lungs were burning, but she found enough oxygen to respond. “Won’t happen again.”
He grunted. “You’ll not only look at me that way again, Redding, you’ll do it while I’m buried inside you, riding us both to release.”
Her breath stuttered and lodged in her throat. He had not just said… In the middle of gunshots, explosions, and running for their lives, they were going to talk about…that?
“Too soon?” he asked.
His face was blank, but she heard the smile in his voice.
Oh God, he had said that. He so had. She should… Well, she should do something. “What happened to the cat?”
He cocked his head and laughed softly, the sound warming her in places she didn’t need to be warmed or even made aware of. Her breath released, and she struggled to drag
in another.
“You know what happened to the cat, Allie.”
“No, I really don’t. And I’m a cat person. I like cats. I’d like the cat back now, please,” she begged.
She was in so much trouble.
“Do you have your breath yet?” he asked in a guttural voice as he cinched the straps on her backpack tighter and stepped back.
She nodded.
“We have about a mile to cover through these trees. I need you alert and ready. I need you to move in my footsteps. I can’t afford to use the light.”
Allie shrugged. “I’m always ready, King McNally,” she said around deep inhales and exhales. It wasn’t that she was in horrible shape—it was the fear.
“It’s just King.”
“I’ll use your whole name, if you don’t mind,” she replied, making every effort to keep the smile out of her voice.
“Why’s that?”
She ignored his question. “Aren’t there bad guys on our trail? Why are we standing here talking?” She knew why—he was giving her time to rest, because this next bit would be a sprint. Her stomach did that strange flip-flop at the thought that he was taking care of her.
“Because you’re sucking wind?”
And there went that lovin’ feeling. She turned on her heel and began walking.
He laughed, that same deep, low chuckle that stroked her eardrums and settled deep in the pit of her stomach. “Allie?”
She stopped right before she smacked into a tree that seemingly rose just then from the ground in front of her. “What?”
“Wrong way,” he informed her, a smile in his voice.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah—yuck it up…”
She didn’t hear him move, but he was there just then at her back, his warm breath trickling down over the sodden collar of her mud-stained black T-shirt, making her shiver. For a precious second his body relaxed, even curving against hers. Then he whispered, “Follow me.”
She sighed again, praying for patience with this man who would be her savior but probably, knowing her luck, had been the cause of all her problems to begin with. He shifted, reaching for her hand and placing it once again on his belt. Then he was staring at her over his shoulder, the meager light from the cloud-shrouded moon making his eyes as dark as the night around them.