HIS Series Box Set (Books 4-7)

by Sheila Kell

  Since discovering Carver was more than likely into something bad, he’d become a bastard. Devon hadn’t been happy with him after the accident, but kept the respect of supervisor-subordinate in his thoughts and actions. The gloves were off and the man would have a lot to answer for.

  Shaking his head, Devon would never forgive himself for not taking the shot sooner, but he would accept that he’d done what he was supposed to and followed orders. He knew it was how some of his brothers felt when they’d left their job because of screwed-up orders. He could only hope, he, and them, didn’t give out those types of orders themselves. Their next order though was to bring down Robert Carver if he was their man.

  First, he and Rylee had to get off the mountain and back to headquarters. The team would be back and that would provide plenty of firepower to find Carver, and hopefully, the girls. Christ, part of him still couldn’t wrap his head around the man selling young girls.

  His research had told him his old boss had a lot more assets than one who’d been a civil servant, but he’d let it slide for further review. It was time for that review.

  Thank the fuck Rylee hadn’t held knowing the man against him.

  He stopped as the handheld GPS pinged, then bent and pulled their items from inside a knothole in the tree. Putting them in plastic bags had been a smart idea on her part as the rain must’ve come in sideways at some point in time.

  Everything secured in his backpack, he turned back to the cave and Rylee. He hoped she didn’t wake up without him and worry. Pen and paper hadn’t been something he’d added to his heavy pack. An oversight to correct if they did this again. He knew plenty of trails they could hike that wouldn’t have them checking themselves for ticks afterward.

  The thought of his hands gliding over her body sent a stab of heat to his dick. He groaned and picked up the pace. They wouldn’t have time this morning, but he’d get his birthday sex before they left these fucking mountains.

  Picturing Rylee in the throes of passion, set him to adjusting his thickening dick. He still didn’t know how he came to meet or marry her, but he was sure glad he had. His step faltered and he came to a stop. Breathing heavily, he took a moment for the reality of it to sink in.

  He’d heard love would bowl you over when it found you. He may not remember much of their night in Vegas, but it was becoming clearer why they had married so impulsively. He needed her to know he’d found that feeling. A smile grew on his face. If she hadn’t, she would soon. He’d make sure of it.

  THE morning of Devon’s birthday shined brightly into the cave. Rylee watched water dripping off the leaves on a branch nearby and dreaded the thought of trudging through wet bushes and mud puddles. Needing the distraction, she kept her thoughts on Devon.

  She wished she’d had the chance to purchase him something nice, but she’d only recently heard from Kate. She’d find a way to make it up to him. A grin split her face and a deep-down happiness filled her. She’d make it up to him in more ways than one.

  Sexual escapades with Devon had been magnificent. Sex had never been this gratifying before. Devon had taken lovemaking to a new level. After rolling over to an empty spot beside her, she jumped to her feet in concern. Reaching for her dry clothing, reason told her that he probably only went outside to relieve himself. Though she felt jumpy and couldn’t explain it. Maybe it was the excitement of where their relationship was heading. Maybe it was being able to celebrate Devon’s birthday with him. Maybe it was that niggling fear of being found by Dave’s goons.

  The birthday boy walked into the cave wearing a huge smile and holding up their weapons and the SAT phone. The ones they’d forgone collecting the night before in an effort to remain dry.

  She stopped stuffing her shirt in her pants and gave him her full attention. “Happy birthday, husband.”

  Closing the distance between them, he leaned forward and kissed her soundly. “Thank you, wife.”

  Grinning and resuming her dressing, Rylee finished tucking her shirt and zipped and buttoned her pants. “Thanks for getting those. We need to get back to Angel and Max though.”

  Devon leaned back against the cave wall. “I figured that, which is why I hurried to collect these.”

  Rylee paused a moment to take him in. He was so thoughtful. She couldn’t find much better than him, and she didn’t want to. Pleasure washed through her, sending her mind and heart reeling. She was falling in love with him.

  Dressed, fire doused, and backpacks on, they emerged into the sunlight, ready to return to their cabin. Devon turned to her and pulled her close, his lips almost touching her ear. The warm breath sent a shudder of delight through her, making her wish no animals depended upon them so they could roll back around on their pathetic excuse for a bed. “I love you,” he whispered.

  Her breath caught and her heart skipped a beat.

  “Don’t say anything,” he continued. “Just let me kiss you.”

  Nodding was all she could muster until his lips touched hers and her arms wound around him. Pulled tight against him, she felt the movement of his cock against her abdomen. Exhilaration like no other surged through her veins as his lips devoured hers.

  He reached out and cupped his hand over her cheek and a shiver stole through her body.

  “Aww, how sweet,” a voice broke in.

  She and Devon tensed and their lips stopped moving. Holy fucking shit. Chuck had found them… in the woods. Devon pulled away and pushed Rylee behind him to protect her. Where the fuck were the weapons? Son of a bitch. They’d put them away in the packs.

  This scene reminded her of how the man had snuck up on her and Brent. No way would she allow another man who loved her to be killed.

  “Honey, you were promised to someone, and that benefactor is not happy about your getting away.”

  Rylee’s heart pounded loudly against her chest. She could tell Devon tensed another notch, but he was smart enough not to ask her about it.

  Devon held his hands out in the general surrender gesture. “Look, buddy, we don’t want any trouble.”

  Another man—good old snub nose, Chuck’s partner—stepped into the open. “Found ‘em, huh?”

  “That was a stupid fucking question, Frank,” Chuck snapped.

  Following Devon’s lead, they began inching back away from the two men.

  “Hey, they’re trying to get away,” Frank spurted.

  A gun appeared in Chuck’s hand and she and Devon halted. “Honey, come here and we won’t kill your man.”

  Devon thrust his arm out to block her path. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

  “Big talk for a man without a gun.” Chuck waved his to emphasize his point and Rylee nearly ducked, fearing the idiot might accidentally shoot. “Packs off.”

  Rylee dropped hers knowing escape would be easier without it. But, Devon waited. He and Chuck had some kind of standoff that took the goon waving his weapon again to get Devon to drop his backpack. Damn him, they didn’t need to anger these two, not when they didn’t have any weapons handy themselves.

  “Again, over here or we kill him.” He pointed the gun squarely on Devon’s chest.

  She couldn’t allow them to harm Devon. If they took her, she had faith he’d find her and maybe the girls at the same time. He wouldn’t agree with her choice, but she knew he’d do the same to protect her. With a churning stomach, she stepped away from him. “Let him go now and I’ll come to you,” she tried.

  A maniacal laugh escaped the man. “Nice try. Come here.” He waved that damn gun again.

  She turned to Devon and saw one angry man. Surprised steam wasn’t coming out his ears, she just shook her head when he mouthed, “No.” He had to understand that she did this for him… to save him. “I trust you to rescue me,” she whispered as loudly as she dared.

  His head swiveled fast with his disagreement.

  Don’t let what happened with Greg cloud his judgment. He is capable of being a savior.

  “Get the fuck over here,” Chuck d
irected in a pissed off tone.

  Moving feet that felt like lead, she made her way to the man, glancing over her shoulder once to see Devon taking a step forward.

  When she neared Chuck, he snaked his arm out and wrapped his large hand around her forearm, squeezed tight and pulled her in front of him, facing the approaching Devon. “Frank, you’re up.”

  Frank cracked his knuckles and Rylee’s stomach revolted. They’d lied. How could she have thought otherwise? “You said you wouldn’t hurt him.” Christ, Frank outweighed her husband by nearly sixty pounds, and those massive arms didn’t bode well for anyone on the receiving end of his fist.

  “No,” Chuck said in a low voice filled with what? Joy? “I said we wouldn’t kill him. Can’t have him coming after us too quickly. Besides, you owe Frank since you had that ICE agent get in the car with you instead of getting the beating he’d earned for poking his nose around where it didn’t belong.”

  She closed her eyes and her heart sank remembering Brent’s death because she’d insisted he come along, and now Devon was about to be beaten up because of her. If she didn’t doubt Chuck would pull the trigger, they’d have chanced it and ran. She’d have made sure of it, but she believed the man would shoot based on what she saw in his eyes. Dark. Soulless. Evil.

  The sound of flesh being pounded had her heart bleeding rivets of red liquid and clogging all senses except pain and loss. Needing to see what happened to Devon, she opened her eyes to her husband doubled over from a punch to his midsection. Roaring, he came up with an uppercut to Frank’s chin. Yes! Fight back.

  After stumbling back, Frank roared his own war cry and tackled Devon. But, her husband got the upper hand. As they lay on the ground with Devon underneath, Devon’s left arm crooked around Frank’s neck, and his right fist repeatedly pounded the goon’s kidney area.

  Somehow, Frank head-butted Devon, stunning him long enough for the man to climb to his feet. He was pretty spry for someone as large as he was. “Son of a bitch!” Frank roared.

  “Just hold the fucker,” Chuck ordered. “I’ll shoot him.”

  “Not now. Won’t someone hear?” Frank whined with blood dripping from his lip.

  Devon pulled himself to his feet, but before he could move, Frank wrapped arms around him from behind. There they stood—her and Devon facing each other, but both being detained. His eyes were already showing signs of swelling from where Frank’s forehead had hit him on the bridge of his nose.

  “Let her go,” Devon insisted.

  “I think not. Someone has a lot of money on her. But,” Chuck went on as if he’d only taken a long breath, “I think she’ll bring more money on the open market.”

  Devon surged from his captor. He’d almost made it to them when Frank knocked him to the ground. The man wrapped his arms around her husband’s waist and pulled him to his feet. Devon fought, twisting and punching, everything he could do to free himself. The blows all but glanced off the goon, as the man simply stepped back with the impact. It took a moment before she realized that in their struggles, they’d backed up near the ledge.

  Rylee jerked, fear lacing through her veins and a surge of adrenaline rocked her. “Devon, watch out!” With her heart sunk like a rock to her gut, she watched, horrified and helpless, as he and his captor disappear over the cliff’s edge amidst screams. “Devon!” She wrenched her arm to escape her attacker, but his hold tightened. “You have to help him,” she insisted, wriggling and kicking to free herself.

  One of her wild kicks found purchase with Chuck’s knee. When his grip loosened, she raced to the cliff’s edge, sliding on her belly so she could look over without falling.

  “Devon,” she bellowed. There were several places where small amounts of rock jutted out and formed tiny ledges. Maybe, just maybe, he landed on one of them. Her head moved fast, following her rapid scan of the cliff wall below. “Devon!”

  With no response, and no sighting, a crushing blow took hold of her heart, driving it low in her belly. Neither Devon nor the brute were there. Tears sprang to life and she willed them away, not wanting the blurring of her vision. But they wouldn’t leave. It was such a long fall, he couldn’t survive. But, maybe—her heart told her—and she scanned again. Nothing.

  “Lookie there, your man is gone. Guess that means it’s time to go.” He reached down and jerked Rylee up with force.

  Tears made tracks down her face. “Don’t you care about your guy? He could just be hurt. We should go check.” And do what exactly. Say good-bye? I can’t do it.

  “Fuck him. He was my fucked-up stepbrother. I’m tired of looking out for him. No way they survived that. Let’s get the hell out of these woods and Colorado.”

  They were leaving? No! That left no one to tell Jesse about his brother and help recover Devon’s body. If that were possible.

  Her posture snapped rigid and her mind cleared. This bastard was part of the reason she’d just become a widow. She’d make him pay.

  SWEAT RAN DOWN his forehead and into his eyes, burning and blurring his vision, but he didn’t move to wipe it away. His heart pounded nearly out of his chest at what had almost happened. He’d fallen off a cliff and almost died.

  Yet, he’d landed on a ledge and somehow, he had no idea how, he’d had the presence of mind to roll into the cliff wall so he wouldn’t be seen from above. He’d heard Rylee’s desperate pleas, but he’d known calling out wasn’t an option, fearing the other goon might shoot him and be done with it.

  I trust you to rescue me, she’d said.

  Dread washed over him as pain radiated through every muscle in his body. He did a quick assessment and the twinge in his left ankle captured his attention. It was painful and damned inconvenient, but not broken. His chest burned though. How many ribs had he broken?

  Knowing Chuck had Rylee spurred him into action—pain and all. Why the fuck hadn’t he called Jesse after he’d retrieved the phone instead of allowing his mind to be diverted with sensual thoughts of his lovely wife? He wanted to kick himself.

  Easing to his hands and knees, he looked up at his obstacle. Fuck. Me. Over fifteen feet of wall loomed over him and it didn’t appear to offer much in the way of something natural to hold on to. He dropped his head. He’d been rock climbing at an inside facility, but that was with harnesses and a good laugh if you missed. This was serious with deadly consequences. But, he had to try it, so he made it to his feet, leaning off his injured ankle as much as possible. Hobbling to the wall, he surveyed it and finding something that he hoped would work, fought the blackness at the outer edges of his eyes when he placed his full weight on his left foot and put his right foot on the wall.

  With purposeful moves, he’d climbed three steps up before he ran into solid, slick wall. Panic crept its way inside and his rational thought took a moment’s vacation while he clawed at the wall, trying to find a way up it, to Rylee. Christ, that asshole had said they planned to sell her. He shifted, lost his hold and slid down the mountain barely catching himself from toppling back over the ledge. “No!” he cried, no longer concerned he’d be heard. He was sure they were long gone.

  Devon wiped his hand down his face, ignoring the tinge of dried blood in his hand and refocused on the wall. If he shifted on the ledge, to an area about two feet deep, there appeared to be more options for grips. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, which burned across his ribcage, he slid sideways.

  Inspiration struck. The personal locator beacon he’d brought with them. “Yes!” Reaching into his pants pocket, he pulled out the yellow piece of equipment, glad he’d sprung for the model with attached GPS so they’d know within 200 feet instead of three miles. He activated it and set it on the ledge like he’d been instructed.

  He wouldn’t just sit here and wait. He had to try to get out of his situation. Getting to Rylee—to save her—was foremost on his mind. Thinking of what they could do to her in his delay sent another rush of adrenaline crashing through his system.

  Again he stepped up to find a foothold, then
a hand one. With hands slick with perspiration, one slipped, jolting his senses to the severity of a mistake. His heart pounded at the desperate need to get up that wall. He was all she had and she counted on him to save her.

  After a couple of deep breaths, he looked for his next handhold, unable to get the image of Rylee in the hands of that asshole out of his mind. She was a strong woman, but she didn’t have a chance against a man that large and with a gun.

  Straining and stretching to reach the next handhold, he missed and slid back down the wall. No! It’d been the closest place to grab hold but had been too far. There was no damn way up the wall! He’d have to wait for rescue. Time he didn’t want to lose.

  Pissed at his failure and the delay in saving Rylee, he pounded his fists against the wall in rage. Pain radiated through his head, originating at the spot where a rock had fallen and slammed into him. He reached his hand to the spot on his head, moaned at the painful touch, swayed and dropped on his ass, temporarily disoriented. Fighting nausea and an overwhelming dizziness, he leaned back against the cliff wall so he didn’t accidentally slide over the ledge.

  “Rylee,” he whispered, his heart breaking at the thought that he might’ve lost her.

  That was when another rock dropped, but after this one hit his head, he slumped to the side and fell into unconsciousness.

  ROBERT CARVER INHALED the succulent scent of bacon and whatever else the chef was preparing for breakfast. He hadn’t had a guest in a long time, at least one who didn’t stay overnight anyway. And the timing of the call couldn’t have been more perfect.

  “Mission accomplished,” Chuck informed him, and sweeter words hadn’t been heard in months.

  “She’s unharmed?” Examining his manicure, what he did to remain focused, he tamped down his excitement.

  “Yeah. She’s fine. I had to drug her because she fought like a woman possessed after the man she was with went over the cliff.”

  He considered the impact of that action. Not only had the FBI trained her, but also, she’d just watched her husband die, medicating her was probably the best thing for everyone. He’d dry her out in time for her new home. Decision made, he ordered, “Keep her out until you get her to Belize. Go to the private airport and I’ll have a helicopter ready for you in two hours. You know the rest of the itinerary.”