by Lea Griffith
She gave in to her brewing anger. It didn’t help that her insecurities made the frustration worse. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be in this anyway.”
His face blanked. A shiver raced up her spine. “I know you might want to find some refuge in that statement, but the truth is, you were in play long before I came looking for you on that plane in Cameroon.”
She knew that. Ella had told her as much yesterday. Didn’t help rationalize her anger toward King at all. He was going to leave her at her father’s and probably not return. Ever.
“You said you didn’t want to play games, Allie. I’m getting you home so you’re off the board. Out of the field of play,” he said as he stalked to the bathroom.
Allie remained silent, keeping her gaze averted. If she watched his fabulous ass as he left the room, she’d drool and it would ruin her mad. She needed to stay mad.
He showered quickly, coming back into the room and dressing almost silently. The jeans he now wore molded to his thighs and ass but hung low on his hips. The black T-shirt he pulled on saved her life. Her eyes glued to his chest ruined any hope of holding on to the flickering flame of her anger. She was reminded of how a little less than a week ago he’d pulled on another T-shirt in Cameroon. Then he’d walked to her and pulled her in to him, using his body to chase away the cold.
“You gonna get dressed or fight me on that too?”
“You don’t understand,” she said as she stood, feeling the rage bubble to the surface. “This is who you are—the games, the running, the shooting, the killing! It’s not who I am. I stay far away from my father because I hate what he is. I hate who I have to be when I’m with him,” she said bitterly.
He stilled, and the air in the room seemed to cool. “And what is that?”
“Dead on the inside. You asked me why I was crying earlier. It’s because I have a heart, damn it. So you want to know if I’ll fight you anymore… The answer is no,” she bit out as she pushed past him, grabbing the clothes he’d placed on the bed for her and stepping into the bathroom.
The door was almost closed when she heard him take a deep breath. “I’m not dead on the inside,” he said so quietly she wondered if she’d imagined it.
She placed her forehead on her side of the door and sighed. “I know. And that’s why I won’t fight you. Whatever you tell me to do, I will.”
Then she closed the door and dressed, braiding her hair and brushing her teeth. She opened the bathroom door ready for anything, but unprepared to find Harrison Black and another man she’d never seen before in the room with them. King was closest to her, and his head rose as she walked out.
She fought panic, biting her bottom lip to hold in any words that might valiantly try to pass. She wouldn’t do this—fall apart in front of these men she barely knew. Not King or the other two silent sentinels who looked at her as though they were dissecting her soul.
King’s green gaze locked on hers, holding her tight. He had to recognize her struggle.
“Allie, you remember Black. This is Jonah Knight,” King informed her, pointing at the smaller of the two. And by small she meant that Black had maybe twenty pounds on the new guy.
Jonah Knight was scary. Where Black was light, Jonah was darkness. Though shorter than Black by maybe two inches, his face would have been classically beautiful, were it not for the large scar splitting his left cheek. He had pitch-black hair and a devil’s look in his blue-gray eyes. Trouble, those eyes screamed. Then a smile bisected his face, easing the hold the scar had as a look of mischief appeared in his eyes. Beauty came in all forms, and Jonah Knight had been blessed.
She nodded, still fighting to maintain her silence. She didn’t know what the hell would come out if she opened her mouth.
“Ms. Redding, it’s a pleasure. Don’t mind His Highness. He gets a bit uptight sometimes,” Knight said as he inclined his head.
She snorted, surprised at the old-world charm Knight brought to his words. “I can safely say I’ve noticed.”
King groaned, cutting her off. “Not again.” She cut her eyes at him and scowled. He shrugged, but a smile played about his lips.
Harrison Black looked askance at Knight. “Did he just smile?”
Knight rolled his eyes. “I guess?”
“I didn’t think he knew how,” Black said.
Then it was back to awkward silence. Allie’s mouth literally itched to speak, ask questions, sing a song. Anything to break it up.
“We’re going to help get you home, ma’am,” Knight said, his intent in his voice.
Allie waited for Black to mention Serbia. He didn’t. “Well, then, that’s nice,” she said finally. “Just so you know, I could probably get myself home with no problems. In fact, I didn’t really have any issues until McNally here came on board.”
Neither man knew what to say, their shock conveyed by the looks they leveled at King. His gaze slid to her and narrowed. He was getting frustrated.
“What happened to you won’t fight me?” he asked in a low tone. It was his don’t-fuck-with-me-on-this tone. Similar to his we-ain’t-moving-’til-you-answer-me tone but equally as somber and dire as his do-what-I-say-and-you’ll-live tone.
She wasn’t swayed by any of them at the moment. Yes, she needed help getting home, but that didn’t mean she had to love the fact. “I’m not fighting you, McNally,” she said with a slow smile.
His gaze narrowed even further, and everything that had happened between them last night was in the air. “Looks like it. Sounds like it. Walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, it must Allie.”
She clapped her hands and laughed. “Clever, McNally. A duck I am then. But this duck is going home, and though she’ll have help, she wants you to know she isn’t all that happy about it. I don’t want anyone hurt because of me.”
He was within inches of her a second later. He moved like water—silent and fluid. Over his shoulder, she saw the other two men step to the door and leave.
“When I saw you on the plane, I think I knew what you could be to me,” he said after a long, pregnant moment. “I knew you were dangerous. To me. But I had no choice, because once that bastard hit you, there was no way anyone else was going to. Not on my watch. Then you were shot, and goddamn but you’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met. It’s in everything you do and say. I want that, Allie. Even though you deserve better than me, I want you.”
She had no words. Surely she hadn’t known him long enough to fall in love. Yet it had happened. And he might not love her as she defined it, but his desire to hold her, to keep her safe, told Allie everything.
“I don’t know that there are any better men than you, Kingston McNally,” she said softly. She lifted her hands, wound them in his hair, and pulled him the scant inches she needed to take his mouth.
He pulled back, stepping away before she could see her intention through, and ran a hand through his hair. “We have a flight to catch,” he said, and his voice was tortured.
He turned then and walked to the door, opening it and murmuring to the men outside. He walked back in the room and handed her his duffel. It was much lighter than she remembered.
“We’re leaving on a private flight from the local airport. You’ll be in Little Creek, Virginia, before the sun sets tonight. Knight and Black are accompanying you to your father’s house.” He gave her the itinerary in rapid-fire succession.
She held back the tears that threatened. Nowhere on that list of things she was about to do was anything related to King’s next move. “Where are you going?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
He was hurting her, and for a second, fear warred with the burgeoning love. He was a protector. It was what he did.
She glanced up, aware she’d been having an internal struggle for a while. His face was hard. He was shut down.
“Thank you, King,” she managed to stammer out
. “Thank you for everything.” She wasn’t going to make it harder for him. Not yet. Once they were on American soil though, all bets were off.
He stroked a finger down her cheek. “I’ll keep you safe, baby,” he said in that oceans-deep voice.
She nodded, and he turned away. Then he led Knight and Black back in. They spoke in low tones until King took her arm and they left the room. The men ushered her out of the hotel to a blacked-out SUV. None of them said a word. Black drove, and Knight sat in the back with Allie and King watching out the windows, no doubt making sure she “stayed safe.”
It was too damn quiet.
“How long have you known King?” she asked them.
King glanced at her, confusion on his face.
Knight and Black gave her silence.
“Really? Interesting. I’ve known him almost five full days,” she said into their absence of a reply. “So, um, you guys part of Endgame?”
Knight glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. Black kept his gaze on the road. She’d get nothing from them, not that she’d expected it.
“You know my father?”
Still nothing.
“You guys are getting on my nerves,” she told them.
“We’re here,” Black said, and relief abounded in his tone.
She almost laughed. It hadn’t taken long, only twenty minutes, to reach the airport. Black pulled into a secured lot, showed some type of identification, and was motioned to the private hangars.
They parked at a hangar, and Allie saw the plane they were taking. Another sleek Jetstream that spoke of money. Knight grabbed the duffel. King helped her out of the SUV and then took her right side while Black took her left. Before she could even breathe heavily, she was in the private jet, seated in a sumptuous leather seat, buckled up, and waiting for takeoff.
Allie leaned her head back, feeling like everything was moving along just a bit too easily. And then she heard a dull thud and a sound she’d heard enough of the last few days to last her entire lifetime.
Gunshots.
Not again, she thought as she unbuckled her seat belt. It had all started on a plane, hadn’t it? She was beginning to hate this form of transportation.
Knight was there then, hurrying toward her as King headed to the front of the plane.
“Back of the plane, Ms. Redding,” he said firmly.
She stood, and he handed her a gun similar to what King had—a SIG Sauer, if she remembered correctly. “Who is it?” she asked.
“Savidge,” he bit out.
“He’s breached the tarmac, Knight. Get her gone!” Black’s accented voice yelled. “I’ll hold him off. King is taking lead.”
“Get to the back, Ms. Redding,” Knight said again.
She moved. The aircraft was being peppered with shots. She heard them bouncing off.
“Get in here,” Knight said as he opened a door and pushed her into a tiny closet. “Stay here until I come for you.”
She nodded, fear pushing under the skin and making her sweat. She was sick of this.
“Be safe, Knight,” she whispered.
He stopped and cocked his head. Surprise flared in his eyes, but then he gave her a smile. “I will, Ms. Redding.” He closed the door.
Allie sat down on the floor of the closet, her SIG Sauer ready. She tried to hear what was happening, but everything had gone dead silent.
There was a flurry of gunshots, then she heard Black yell that King was down. She heard Knight yelling, and then silence.
Her heart stopped. King was down. Oh God! What did that mean? Her skin prickled, and her mouth dried.
“Come out, Ms. Redding,” an unknown man said.
Allie didn’t move. This wasn’t good at all.
“Don’t make me hunt you, Ms. Redding. McNally and his men will pay the price,” the man said. He had a nasally voice and a decidedly Serbian-sounding accent.
Was this Savidge? One of his goons?
A single gunshot report, and Allie jumped as a sound of pain came through the door. Black. He’d shot Black.
Allie stood then, opening the door and holding her gun out in front of her, ready for anything.
“Drop the gun, Ms. Redding,” the man said from behind her.
“No,” she responded.
Another shot and then silence. No more cries of pain, just nothing.
“Drop the gun, Allison Redding, and I’ll let them live,” he said.
She saw Black and Knight each on the floor of the plane, bleeding from their wounds, gazes pinned on her. Why hadn’t he simply killed King’s men? What was the point in not eliminating your enemies? There was something bigger at play here.
In the depths of their eyes, she saw acceptance but also apologies. Where was King? She shook her head. “Not your fault,” she murmured.
“Drop the gun,” he said again.
“You’re a broken record. I’m not dropping the gun, not for you or anyone else,” she said firmly.
It was bravado, and the smile the handsome, dark-haired man gave her was his acknowledgment that that was all it was. He turned calmly, casually, and shot Harrison Black in the leg. Black groaned, Knight winced, and Allie screamed.
She dropped the gun.
“Good girl,” the man said, and he strode down the aisle to her, several large, thuggish-looking men behind him. “My name is Vasily Savidge. I have been looking for you, Allie Redding, indeed, waiting for you.”
Allie’s gaze was glued on Black’s pale face. His eyes were closed now, and her heart wept. King had been right. She’d never have been able to handle getting home on her own. This man, this Vasily Savidge, was a monster. Monsters never stopped coming.
And he’d hurt King. King was down. Where was he?
Rage sifted through her fear, feathering along her mind and settling into her gut. These men had been hurt protecting her. And the monster responsible stood in front of her.
“Look at me,” Savidge demanded.
She turned and did as she was instructed.
“You’re hurt?” he asked.
Allie tried to process his words, but all she could see was the blood on Knight and Black. All she could hear were the gunshots and Black yelling, “King’s down!”
“I asked you a question,” Savidge demanded.
“No,” she murmured.
“Good. That’s good then. Come along. We’ve much to discuss,” he said. His voice was filled with delight.
She hated him.
He started down the aisle, but Allie remained where she was.
“Go with him, Miss Redding,” Knight mouthed. “We’ll find you.”
She saw him, she did, but rage had her now. From the muffled quiet of her shock, red flames emerged burning bright and hot. She reached down and picked up her SIG Sauer, cocked it and coughed to cover the sound. Her cough must have alerted Savidge that she wasn’t following because he turned.
Allie was between him and King’s men, and that was as it should be. To save them, she’d have to play this just right. She tucked the gun behind her back and began moving down the aisle to meet Savidge.
When he was within a foot of her, she sat down in a seat and tugged on his coat, pulling him off-balance. This left him sprawled on top of her. He tried to push off her, muttering an apology, but she had a firm grip on his coat.
She pressed the barrel of the SIG against his ribs and smiled. “They leave here right now, without being harmed any further, or I put a bullet into your side and follow it with one to the brain. You know who I am, Savidge. You know my daddy trained me. If you believe nothing else, believe I will kill you even if it means the rest of us go straight to hell with you.”
His eyes widened, and the sick fucker grinned. “You’re a strong one. I’ll enjoy breaking you and sending you home in pieces to your father. Tell me,
are these two men worth your life?”
Only two? Was King dead then?
“Yes.” Unequivocal. Absolute. They were King’s men; they were worth that and more.
“Holland?” Savidge called out. “Let our guests leave unmolested.”
Her grip on the gun tightened.
“Sir?” his man questioned.
Allie pressed the gun harder into Savidge’s ribs. He swore bitterly. Oh, she was pissing him off.
“Do what I said, Holland. Now!” Savidge’s gaze pinned her. “You will owe me more than I think you’re willing to pay, Allie Redding.”
“Stand up slowly, Savidge,” she instructed him and then used her hold on his jacket to follow him, never relinquishing her grip on the gun or its position against his ribs. “Now throw your other weapon on the ground.”
“Don’t do this, Allie,” Knight said in a tortured voice.
“No choice, Mr. Knight. Now, please take Mr. Black and be gone,” she urged.
Knight grabbed Black, hauled the big man over his uninjured shoulder, and began down the aisle off the plane.
“We’re going to watch, Savidge. We’re going to watch as they get in the car and leave, and once they’re gone, we’ll renegotiate,” she said to him.
He remained silent, eyes burning with sickening lust and a need for vengeance.
Allie’s gaze scoured the tarmac and found King being held up between two of Savidge’s goons. His face was bloody, and it looked like he’d been shot in the shoulder.
Savidge leaned over her and sniffed her neck, running his nose over and up until he reached her ear. “I won’t kill him this time. Dresden wants him alive so he’ll chase us. The fun is in the chase.”
Her breath hitched.
Several of Savidge’s men lay fallen, blood soaking the concrete beneath them. Knight looked back once, and Allie nodded at him. The two goons released King but held a gun on him the entire time. His eyes met Allie’s, and she could read the torture in their depths. She pleaded wordlessly with him to be safe. Savidge’s men followed King to the SUV they’d arrived in and continued to hold their weapons on King, Black, and Knight as they pulled away, taking Allie’s heart with them.