Hard Target

by Tibby Armstrong

  The guard on the floor began to convulse and the room tilted to one side sharply then righted itself. Shit. She turned to save the guard when his mouth began to foam. Eyes rolling, he gave one last heave and lay still. That was lethal shit. Fuck. No choice left open to her, she stepped into the hall toward the elevator, using its polished surface to see behind her as she moved. Eyes seemingly roving everywhere at once, she kept her weapon up and at the ready. Something crunched under her foot and she froze, flicking her gaze down. Pebbles from a potted plant. They’d set a trap for her. Her blood chilled.

  “Drop it.” Downing’s lazy voice ran over her like an unwanted caress and he appeared behind her at the same time his remaining security stepped from the corridor in front.

  She placed the gun on the ground, still within reach, before straightening with her hands in the air.

  “Kick it toward Tommie,” Gibbons instructed.

  As Alex did what he asked, a wave of nausea coursed over her. Fighting against her gag reflex she tried to sound casual as she asked, “What’s the chemical agent?”

  Downing smirked as he approached. Able to see him in the elevator doors, Alex kept her attention on Tommie. Downing closed his library door on the way past before stopping directly behind her.

  Leaning down he whispered in her ear, “Just a little thing one of my companies cooked up for the Russians. Worked rather well in the 2002 Moscow hostage crisis I thought.”

  Against her will, Alex swallowed hard. “That shit killed fifteen people. Innocent people.”

  “Guess it’s a good thing you didn’t stay in the library then.” His lips brushed at her nape. “That would have been such a stupid move for such a smart girl.”

  Jaw clenched, she tightened her fists until even her short nails dug into her palms. If he intended to rape her, she’d rather be shot. At the very least she’d rip off his testicles before he finished the deed.

  “Can we cut to the chase and skip your attempts at romance?” Alex tugged off the kerchief. “I’m a sure thing in case you hadn’t noticed. What do you want to know?”

  The hall blurred and the wall seemed to rush forward to meet her. One moment she stood with Downing at her back and the next she slid down the eggshell lacquer covering the plaster. Tall. Strong. Furious. Downing loomed above her. Recognizing the glittering evil in his eyes, Alex said a silent prayer he’d make her death quick and painless.

  Using his foot, he pinned her by the throat. As he applied pressure to her larynx with his shoe, Alex’s hands fluttered to his ankle. With Tommie’s gun pointed at her she knew better than to fight. Downing dug in. Panic framed her senses like ragged tissue paper as oxygen became more and more scarce. How long had it been since Simon left? Downing obviously wanted information. Once she gave it to him he’d be done with her. Just kill her. That option would save her a lot of pain.

  No. If Downing knew he was involved before Simon managed to get those papers to the media and the FBI, he’d go after Simon, Lily, Jenny, Gun, David and Kyra… No one would be safe. She had to keep her mouth shut for as long as possible. Closing her eyes, she dropped her hands and submitted to the pressure. Black spots formed and her head ached but she found the will to keep her fight response at bay. With a sound of disgust, Downing dropped his foot. The main elevator doors opened and more of his entourage sauntered out. Alex coughed as the rushing in her head subsided. The pain in her throat didn’t abate, but at least she had cool, sweet air in her lungs.

  “Tie her in the bath—use one of the metal kitchen chairs,” Downing instructed. “I want this to be easy to clean up.”

  Alex retched automatically and cursed herself for the display of weakness. Downing bent low and grasped her jaw in his hand, forcing her to look at him.

  “I’m not going to ask any questions. You’re going to talk and tell me what I want to hear.” His lips split into a smile. “Right, smart girl?”

  Buying time, Alex nodded as best she could.

  Downing’s slap sent her reeling sideways, closer to her gun. Reflexively, she grabbed it and spun face up. Aiming for Downing, she pulled the trigger. A dent appeared in the air in front of her, surreal, as the bullet ricocheted with a whine and punched a hole in one of the inner hall walls. Amidst the confusion, a foot kicked at her hand. Bones crunched and Alex’s world darkened as she realized she’d shot Downing’s reflection in the shiny elevator doors.

  Movement. Pain in her head like white flames licking at hot red coals. Someone dragged her down the hall by her hair. Each time her hand bumped against the floor a wave of nausea overtook her, heightened by the effects of the chemical agent that had seeped beneath the handkerchief and into her lungs while she’d been in the library.

  Time ceased to have meaning. Her life became a series of short clips of pain, wakefulness and unconsciousness. They tied her to a metal chair with plastic zips. A forceful jerk of her hair exposed her neck. Cold water splashed in her face. She sputtered and tried to focus. Downing leered above her. A hand palmed her breast.

  “Lovely,” he said.

  Adrenaline wakening her fully, Alex struggled. Plastic cut into her wrists and ankles. “I worked alone tonight!”

  “Tsk-tsk.” Downing’s brows knit together in mock concern and he flourished a knife to cut off one of the ties. “Lies will be punished.”

  At Downing’s nod, a thug grasped Alex’s free wrist and held her arm at an awkward angle. Knowing what he intended to do, Alex shook her head and began to hyperventilate.

  Alex’s, “No—” was cut short by her scream as Downing brought down his fist to separate her shoulder from its joint.

  Darkness descended again. She drifted now in a white-gray cloud of nothingness. The scent of warm leather tickled her nostrils and Simon stepped out of the haze to smile sadly at her.

  “Tell them, sweetheart.” Running his fingers down her cheek, he leaned in to kiss her lips gently before pulling away. “They’ll know when Gibbons gets there. He’s seen you. Knows who you are.”

  “Love you,” she whispered.

  And then he was gone, dissolved and replaced with ice water and bright light. Pain came rushing in. In the dim recesses between the agony that occupied her body and brain she knew she’d vomited all over Downing. He cussed and gave directions not to touch her until his return.

  Alex drifted once more toward unconsciousness. This time Simon lounged with her on her bed. Outside a cold wind blew. She shivered and he bundled her closer into the crook of his arm. A landscape of freckled pectorals showcased reddish-brown areolas. Trailing her gaze downward, she took in the dusky-red hairs leading from his abdomen to a mostly hidden thatch of dark-red curls. The visible indentation of muscle along either side of his hips said if she shifted just a little she could unseat the down comforter to reveal the sated length of his cock.

  They’d set up the Christmas tree in her apartment that afternoon and the scent of spruce mingled with the taste of peppermint candy canes on her tongue. Part languid, part needful, she played her fingers over the ridges of Simon’s thigh muscles until she reached his testicles. Warm and soft, they slipped against her fingers.

  Simon sighed, contented, and let her amuse herself with his body. She investigated the seam defining the sacs of his balls, tested their weight in her palm and rolled them delicately. A tease to the flesh along his perineum widened his legs as she dared to know him there.

  She lifted her face and he kissed her in a gentle suckling exploration of her lips and mouth. His tongue wrapped around hers, tangling and teasing until it slid underneath to suck hers into his mouth. Nipples peaking, abdomen tingling with renewed need, Alex arched to close any remaining gap between their bodies.

  Rolling, he positioned her underneath him. Pillows and throws, blankets and the feather topper of her bed surrounded her. She sank into the bedding and widened her thighs as he buried himself inside her. Muscled forearms framed her head, veins and tendons playing with movement and light as he teased her with the wide head of his
cock. Her juices encouraging him, fluids from their earlier interlude easing his way, he slipped into her with spine-tingling ease.

  “Lift your hips,” he said and she pulled her knees back to do him one better. “Yes, that’s—” He panted when she tightened her sheath around him with a flutter of internal muscles. “Just like— Yes.”

  He rocked hard against her, making her breasts bounce and nipples ache with the violence of the motion. Wet sounds mixed with the scent of his sweat and her sex to tease her senses into a crescendo of awareness where only he existed. Joined to her. Forever. Blinding light seared her eyelids, tearing a cry from her throat as he jerked once, twice, and withdrew to spill the evidence of his desire across the pale skin of her belly.

  Dipping two fingers to her stomach, Alex brought his cum to her lips. He hissed a breath and watched, eyes heavy lidded with passion and glazed with arousal as she tasted the musky sweetness of his desire.

  “Push your hips up,” he said. “Hands under your knees, thighs spread.”

  In the deep recesses of her mind, pain registered along her spine, but she pushed it away as an illusion. Simon was here. Nothing could possibly be wrong. As if he heard her thoughts, he lifted one corner of his mouth to give her his best lopsided grin before dipping down to pierce her pussy with his tongue. Sleek and hot, the muscled length of him delved deep and hard, forcing her gasp. Moving up, he sucked hard on her clit. Suck, fuck, suck, fuck, he alternated his attentions until she clutched at his hair, wrapped it in her fingers and tugged him down to demand he finish her. Finish this.

  “Oh smart girl,” he breathed, “we’re only just beginning.”

  Pain like she’d never known exploded red and raw across her brain in place of the orgasm she’d expected. Alex screamed and arched, bringing her bottom off the hard chair and opened her eyes in confusion. The acrid stench of smelling salts made her wince and retch though her stomach had long ago been emptied of its contents.

  “That little prick!” another man said, his curses coming from down the hall.

  The voice cut across Alex’s consciousness—one she recognized from all the wire taps. Max Gibbons. Blinking against the bright lights, she pried her eyes open to see the man throw himself into the bathroom. Coming straight for her, moving faster than a man of his size should’ve been able, he shoved Downing out of the way and grabbed Alex by the hair to tilt her and the chair closer to him.

  “You’re that FBI bitch, Alexandra Valentine. The one he’s been mooning after.” Rough hands shook her by her hair until her vision blurred.

  “What?” Still trying to play oblivious, Alex croaked the question, surprised her voice still worked after all the screaming.

  “Yes. What are you talking about, Max?” Downing asked, sounding bored.

  Gibbons released her with a sound of disgust and the chair legs thudded onto the tub floor with force. Facing Downing, the man jerked a thumb in Alex’s direction.

  “She’s Jakes’ piece of ass. The FBI cunt. He must still be around here somewhere.”

  Downing harrumphed and moved toward her, a brittle smile overtaking his face.

  “I thought I recognized you from somewhere.” He leaned in low and close before focusing his attention on Alex’s crotch. “I’m curious. Does the carpet match the drapes? Or do you wax?”

  Alex stared at him, unspeaking, and Downing straightened to address Gibbons once more. “The safe was blown open. Which documents did he get away with?”

  Gibbons swallowed hard. “All of them. Including the ones for the Liberian job.”

  Metal rang against marble as Downing placed his knife on the side of the tub and his hands on Alex’s forearms. Leaning in close, he growled low, “I own you now, smart girl. I own you both. He wants you returned to him? He’ll have to make a trade before he gets you back. In pieces.”

  Alex faded in and out of awareness to the rhythmic beep of a phone being dialed. Head hanging, barely able to focus past the lank curtain of her hair, she looked up at the now shirtless Downing, his wiry muscles smeared in streaks of red. Sweat dripped from his brow, diluting the flecks on his face and turning them pink as they ran down his cheek.

  “Jakes?” Downing’s voice cut into the air, making Alex’s heart bleed. She bit into her lip, refusing to say anything when the man tugged her hair so hard she heard a ripping sound. “I bet you never made her scream like this.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Simon! Stop!”

  The thunder of footfalls behind Simon barely registered as he ran blindly across Central Park West. At four thirty a.m. traffic still trickled slowly enough that only one cabbie had to swerve to avoid committing urban road kill.

  “Jakes!” A different voice this time. Closer.

  With Alex’s pleas for him not to come for her still searing his brain, Simon ran as fast as he could with the pack full of documents strapped to his back, leaping over rock outcroppings and park benches as they sprung up in his way. Harsh breathing, not his own, sounded in his ear. He increased his speed, his arms pumping almost as hard as his heart in an effort to outrun anyone who might try to stop him.

  “Oof!” The impact of hard-packed dirt covered with the barest stubble of grass knocked the air from his lungs in one burning rush.

  Despite the lack of oxygen he rolled over and over until he smashed into something harder than the dirt.

  A rock. The man let out a grunt, but held on. “Listen to me! She wouldn’t want this.”

  Simon rolled again, smashing Ryan against the rock. Harder this time.

  “So close! Her dream!” Ryan said.

  Another smashing blow and the man’s arms loosened. Just enough. Fingers clawing the dirt, feet sliding, Simon scrabbled upright and began running again. A shadow moved across his path. He ran into a very corporeal fist and everything went dark.

  When he awoke, Jenny pressed an ice pack to his right cheek and Gun stood over him, arms folded, a look of deathly calm on his face. Simon attempted to sit, but the jerk of his hands above his head brought him tumbling backward again.

  “Son of a…” He looked over his head. Günter or Ryan had cuffed him to the bed in the security flat.

  Testing the cuffs and the strength of the headboard with a hard tug, he thought he might be able to break the metal links if he twisted and applied force to just the right place.

  “Do it and I’ll double cuff you next time.”

  Simon paused long enough to glare at Ryan. “Fuck. You.”

  Then he broke the cuffs. And very possibly a bone in his right wrist.

  “Ow fucking Goddamit!” He rolled back and forth on the bed while he gripped the wrist.

  Someone touched his shoulder and he lashed out blindly, his fist meeting bone. A feminine gasp froze him mid-twist. In the fraction of a second it took him to look over his shoulder, Günter was on him. Face first in the mattress, both arms pinned high and tight behind, Simon didn’t bother to struggle. He’d hit Jenny. An all-time low. Even for him. Still panting, he waited for Günter to rip his arms from their sockets. The Englishman bent, his breath hot, and growled so low it made the hairs on Simon’s arms stand on end.

  “If you were anyone else, at any other time, I’d kill you.”

  “Wouldn’t blame you.” Simon gasped when Günter applied a tad more pressure to his arms.

  “Never. Again.”

  Simon managed to shake his head. “No. Never again.”

  “And you’ll listen to reason?” Günter voiced the question in the same feral tone.

  Simon nodded this time.

  The searing pain in Simon’s shoulders evaporated as Günter pushed himself up and away. Simon rolled and took in Jenny’s bruised face.

  “Jesus, Jenny, I’m sorry.” He reached for her and she waved him off.

  “I’m going to put some ice on this.” She left, closing the door with a soft click behind her.

  He didn’t think he could hate himself more than he already did. First Lily, then Alex, now Jenny…r />
  “Lily?” he asked.

  When he’d left the flat, the doctor Tallis had brought in was looking her over in a guest room in the musician’s penthouse.

  “She’s fine. Still sleeping,” Gun said.

  Which meant he could focus on Alex. “Do we even have a plan?”

  “Ryan does,” Günter answered.

  Dried blood traced the agent’s temple and cheek in red-black rivulets. His chestnut curls still sported leaves, and his suit jacket looked like formalwear for the walking dead.

  Ryan pushed away from the wall and said, “That’s always been your problem, Jakes, playing cowboy.”

  “I never—”

  “London?” Günter cut in. “Not calling in five?”

  “As if you even know how to call in help. I saved your ass, you ungrateful Viking castoff,” Simon shot back.

  “And I just saved your scrawny arse in return. So now we’re even.” Günter folded his arms over his chest and appeared to grind glass between his teeth.

  Simon stood. The room wobbled but he managed not to sway. Too much.

  “Why can’t we just give Downing what he wants and keep us all alive to fight another day?” he asked.

  “We can’t return the papers to Downing,” Ryan answered. “He’ll assume we have copies and find a way to eliminate Alex anyway.”

  Now that Ryan pointed out the flaw in his plan, Simon cringed at his stupidity. In his anger and desperation he hadn’t thought his strategy through. That’s what he got for letting his emotions rule him. It’d been difficult enough leaving her in Downing’s building with that monster, but he’d had Lily to think of…

  He found himself sitting on the edge of the bed once more, staring at his feet. Separated cuffs still biting into his wrists, he gripped the edge of the mattress and tried to focus. An expert strategist, he could think any problem through. Find a solution. Except, it seemed, when it mattered most.

  “We can’t infiltrate Downing’s penthouse again. He’ll have figured out how we got in the first time.” Günter paced as he spoke, his feet wandering in and out of Simon’s view several times.