“Let me talk to him.”
Brooke handed the phone to the shop owner. “My friend wants to talk to you.”
The shop owner took the phone, and held it up to his ear. She listened for a few moments while he talked to Dorin in Romanian. A look of sympathy and determination spread across his aging face before he handed the phone back to Brooke.
“What did you tell him?” Brooke asked.
“Brooke, listen to me very carefully,” Dorin began. “Stay exactly where you are, do you hear me? I'm on my way to you, I'll be there in ten minutes. The shop owner is going to keep you in the back until I get there. If anyone but me comes in, he will deny you are there. Do you understand?”
Brooke sagged with relief. “Yes, I understand.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Dorin drove the car as fast as he could without raising suspicion. He had changed hotels after returning from the Embassy, and his new one was further from the store where Brooke was hiding. It would normally have been a fifteen minute trip, but pushing the boundaries of the speed limit, and the late-night absence of traffic cut several minutes out of his driving time.
He pulled up in front of the store, and rushed inside. The shop owner stood at the front counter, looking as calm and nonchalant as if it were any average day.
“I'm Dorin, we spoke over the phone,” he said in Romanian.
The shop owner jerked his head toward the back. “She's back here.” Dorin followed him to the back.
He found Brooke sitting in a chair in the office, her knees pulled up to her chest protectively. Her hair was tousled, her eyes red and bleary, and she was dressed only in a sweatshirt, leggings, and socks.
“Dorin!” She leapt up from the chair and threw her arms around him. Okay, this hug he was totally fine with. He wrapped his arms around her in return, pulling her tightly into him to show her that she was now safe and protected. By him.
“Are you all right?” he asked as he pulled away. His hands stayed on her shoulders. She still trembled, and her dark brown eyes were red with tears. Her fear was palpable, and heartbreaking. Her explanation of what had happened over the phone was very rushed and frantic, but he understood one thing without a doubt—her father had betrayed her.
Brooke nodded, fresh tears forming. “Physically, yeah, I'm fine.” She sniffed, rubbing her reddened nose. “I just don't know what to do now. I think my father gave me to those men in the first place, but I can’t prove it. I haven’t seen his protective detail anywhere, so he had to have let them in.”
“You let me worry about that; I'll take care of reporting it.” He had a hell of a lot more resources at his disposal, knew what questions to ask and what to look for. If her father had sent her off to be sold and abused for God-knows whatever reason, Dorin would no doubt make the fucker pay.
First, he needed to get her somewhere safe. And find her some shoes...
As it turned out, the shop owner lived in the apartment upstairs, and his wife was roughly the same size as Brooke. He gave her a different sweater to wear and a pair of shoes that were just barely too big, but Brooke was just happy to have her feet covered.
“Where are we going?” Brooke asked once they were in Dorin's car.
“My new hotel room.” He took out his cell phone, and began dialing Tanner. “I'm going to call my handler and give him an update. He can alert the right people that we're about to report your father.”
Brooke nodded, settling back in her seat.
The phone rang once before Tanner picked up. “Yo, D.”
“Got a major problem.”
“Do I want to know?”
“It's possible that Richard Kennedy set his daughter up to be snatched by Anton's men. They came after her again tonight but she got away and called me. She's okay, and she's with me, but I'm not sure what we should be doing next. We're heading back to my hotel room right now.”
“Fuck, man...” Tanner groaned. “This is bad.” He took a deep breath, the sound echoing over the phone. “Kennedy knows how Brooke was rescued, and is obviously still in contact with Anton.”
Dorin's hand tightened on the wheel; he could feel the blood draining from his face as the realization dawned on him.
“Dorin, I think your cover's blown.” Tanner voiced his most powerful fear. “You and Brooke need to get out of Romania and get back to the States. I'll line up whatever support you need to make that happen.”
He thought for a moment, considering travel routes and the various safe houses located throughout Eastern Europe. Sofia, Bulgaria came to mind. It was a long drive, at least five hours, but a CIA safe house could be ready and waiting for them by the time they got there.
“We're heading to Sofia.” Out of his peripheral vision, he could see Brooke watching him very attentively. He had some major explaining to do once he wrapped up this conversation with Tanner.
“Sounds good, I'll get a safe house secured for you and contact you once it's ready. You guys just focus on getting out of Romania unnoticed. Anton won't waste any time coming after you if he isn't already looking for you.”
Damn it if that wasn't the truth, and an annoying little twinge of fear sent a chill down his spine. More than a little, he was flat fucking terrified.
Once he was off the phone, Brooke wasted no time demanding an explanation. “What's going on?”
“Brooke,” he rubbed his chin, his finger against the short stubble made a scratching sound in the otherwise silent car. “I need you to remain as calm as possible when I tell you this.”
“Just fucking tell me, Dorin.” The level of calm in her voice was unnerving.
“We've got to get out of Romania. My cover is very likely blown.”
She blinked her eyes a few times, her eyelashes fluttering with the rapid motion. “So, that means...” She let the question hang.
Biting his lip, Dorin nodded his head. “It means the man who had you kidnapped is probably now after both of us. And we're not sticking around to find out. I need to get you back to the States as quickly and safely as possible.
“And how do we plan to—”
The loud bang of imploding metal rang through the car with a deafening roar. The sedan suddenly flew into a wild spin, whirling several times before its spinning abruptly stopped when the car slid into a telephone pole. Glass exploded into the car, raining down on them. Brooke screamed as she ducked her head, covering herself with her arms as Dorin did the same, leaning over the console to shield her as well.
His ears rang, his head throbbed, and he was completely disoriented. Once he had regained his bearings, he did a split-second check for injuries. He was okay, and Brooke was okay. Another car had struck them on the driver's side near the back, sending them into the dizzying spin. The other car had stopped a few feet from them, and three men got out.
Fuck.
It was three of Anton's men; he recognized them from the club the other night.
“Get down, and don't move!” he commanded as he pulled his gun from the waistband of his jeans and got out of the car. Brooke immediately obeyed, and ducked into the floorboard. Once he was out of the car, Anton's men opened fire on him. He was still within the safety of the car, and was able to duck behind the front of the crashed vehicle, using the hood as a ledge to return fire. He raised his gun, aimed, and popped off several rounds in return, sending up a silent prayer that his single magazine would hold out.
One round dropped one of the men instantly, catching him square in his sternum. The other two scattered behind parked cars, leaving shots coming from two different directions. Ok, it wasn't as bad as it could have been, and he'd been in worse shootouts before. He just wished he had an extra magazine.
Damn, he wished the exploding-gas-tank trick from the movies actually worked; that would be fucking sweet.
Risking a small peek around the corner of the front bumper, Dorin caught the reflection of one of the shooters in the side-view mirror of a nearby-parked car. Perfect. All he had to do was wait for the dum
b bastard to pop up like a whack-a-mole game.
The shooter's head finally popped up, and with chilling precision, Dorin fired off a single, perfectly-aimed shot that blasted through his skull. He flopped against the car, and dropped to the asphalt with a thud.
The shooting suddenly stopped, and Dorin didn't fight the smug smile that crept up his face when he heard the clicks of an empty gun coming from the last remaining shooter. He sat against the front of the car for a few more moments, waiting to see if he would reload. Dorin knew he still had eight more rounds left in his magazine; it was best not to waste them.
Cautiously, he rose from his hiding spot, and saw the other shooter peeking out from his cover. With a terrified look on his face, the shooter scrambled to his feet and started to run.
Oh, no you don't. Dorin took off after him, and caught him by the collar of his jacket before he could get too far. He spun him around and slammed him into the side of a parked car. The man was petrified in a piss-your-pants way, as he stared up at Dorin with wide eyes. Good, he'd instilled a healthy dose of fear in the fucker.
“Did Anton send you after me? After Brooke?” Dorin growled in Romanian just inches from his face.
“H-he found out you're an American spy and he's pissed that you swiped one of his girls. He wants her back,” he stammered nervously.
“Why? Why does he want her back? Did her father have something to do with it?”
“I don't know; he doesn't tell me shit.” He was trembling by now. “Supposedly her father owes Anton a bunch of money, and he offered up his daughter to repay his debt.”
Pure, white-hot anger washed over Dorin. Brooke was right—her father had set her up. Out of deep anger, Dorin slammed the man's head into the roof of the car, dazing him, but not knocking him unconscious, before grabbing onto his head and snapping his neck like a twig.
He headed back to the car; Brooke was in the exact spot he had left her in, hugging her knees and making herself as compact as possible. Offering his hand, she took it and let him pull her from the floorboard.
“Are you okay?” He did another sweep for injuries. She looked fine aside from a few little scrapes that had stopped bleeding. Her eyes were wide with terror and she shook violently. Oh, no. Please don't go into shock.
She gave several tight nods of her head. “You're... bleeding...” Her voice was broken, shaky.
He was? He swiped his hand over his forehead and winced when he felt the sting of a shallow cut at his hairline. A shard of glass must have nicked him. He pulled his hand back and saw a smear of blood. “It's fine, it's little. I'm okay, I promise.” He reassured her.
As if someone unlocked the floodgates, Brooke crumbled. Her shaking turned bone-rattling, her teeth chattering with the force. Her face paled several shades, and her pupils dilated to cover the chocolate brown irises. She was completely dazed, gone, staring off into space. She had the same dead look in her eyes as she had at the auction.
“Brooke?” He took her face between his hands, forcing her to look at him. “Look at me, you're okay.” Come back to me, please.
Her breathing accelerated, turning deep and rapid. Her nostrils flared with each breath. Tears welled in her eyes, immediately spilling down her cheeks. “My dad...”
Dorin pulled her tightly against him, cradling her head against his shoulder, and wrapping his arms around her. He felt her deep ache of betrayal as if it were his own, her pain cutting him deep. “I know, iubita, I know.” He placed a kiss on the side of her head. He took a split second to enjoy the feel of her in his arms, the softness of her hair against his lips. She felt so good against him, and fit perfectly in his embrace. Never had someone affected him so deeply, but what was he supposed to do with that? He had no idea.
Brooke lifted her head to look at him. “What does that mean?”
“What, iubita?”
She nodded her head.
A small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “It means 'sweetheart'.”
“Will you say it again?”
Dorin couldn't stop his smile from spreading wider. Of course, he'd repeat it, he'd repeat it as often as she wanted. Because that's exactly what she was—a sweetheart.
“Iubita.”
Brooke sucked in her bottom lip, biting it for a moment before releasing it. Then, she leaned forward, and pressed her lips to Dorin's.
Dorin's breath dissolved from his lungs as his hands instantly came up to hold her face. As if some part of him had been waiting to do exactly this, he immediately seized control of the kiss, working his lips over hers in a slow, smooth caress. Her lips were so soft, her face fit so perfectly in his hands. The cool softness of her hair on his fingers was intoxicating. He tentatively slid his tongue along the seam of her lips, gently asking for entrance. Her mouth opened for him, and rather than plunging his tongue inside like he desperately wanted to, he only barely tasted her, gently swiping his tongue along hers. Christ, she tasted good. Her small hands wrapped into his shirt, pulling him close as she returned the arousing glide of her lips and tongue. His growing erection strained the fly of his jeans, and he itched to pull her even closer, or back her against the car to kiss her everywhere he wanted to.
Finally, he pulled away with her face still between his hands. Those brown eyes that looked so pained only moments ago were soft and shining. God, she was so beautiful, and he wanted so much more of her that he couldn't see straight.
First, they needed to get somewhere safe.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Brooke had no idea how long she had been asleep, only that it was daylight, and she had a wicked cramp in her neck. Her head had been leaning against the car window, and she had somehow slid into a massively uncomfortable position during her nap.
Dorin “borrowed” a random parked car, hot-wiring it to allow them to continue their escape. She remembered he said they were heading for Bulgaria, that there would be a safe house waiting for them until a secure flight could take them back to the United States. She expected the acute terror from last night to be fresh in her mind, the metallic crunch of the car crash and the gunshots to echo in her ears. But that wasn't the case at all. She felt strangely... calm.
The man in the driver's seat made her feel that way. Dorin's presence made her feel safe and protected. Her lips suddenly tingled when she remembered their searing kiss. Brooke had never kissed a man first. Ever. However, in that moment, something took over and made her kiss Dorin. Her toes curled in her shoes when she remembered it. It was both hot and gentle. Dorin was both dominating and sweet. The way he held her face in his hands and took over once her lips touched his sent her stomach into an oddly delicious swoop. She could sense his restraint, could feel that he desperately wanted to do more. Would she have let him? If Dorin pulled the car over right then, and told her he wanted her, would she give him permission to do whatever he wanted to her?
Yes, without a doubt. That thought sent a warm tingle bubbling through her.
It sometimes shocked her that, at the age of twenty-four, she'd never had the time, nor the interest, to be with a man. Oh, she'd kissed men before, and had made out with a handful throughout high school and college, but none of them conjured the sharp warmth and need that Dorin had. And she hadn't even known the man for two days. Even in the middle of an epic meltdown, his arms around her chased away the cold fear, and brought her back to the present where she was safe and unharmed.
“Morning, sleepyhead.” Dorin's deep, smooth voice jerked her from her daydream.
She yawned. “Where are we?” She rubbed her sleepy eyes.
“We just crossed the border into Bulgaria, still have a couple more hours until we reach Sofia.”
“And then to the safe house?”
Dorin nodded. “And then to the safe house. I talked to Tanner while you were asleep; he said it's ready for us.”
“Who's Tanner?” She remembered Dorin talking to him on the phone earlier, but never had a chance to ask who he was.
“He's my handler
and pretty much my best friend.” Dorin smiled. “You'd like him.”
They drove in silence for a few more miles. “How long have you been in the CIA?” Brooke asked. She wanted to know so much about Dorin, she didn't really know where to start.
“Six years. I was twenty-six and went to training right out of the Marines.”
Brooke grinned. “To spy school?”
Dorin laughed. Holy hell, she loved that sound. He had a great laugh. Warm, but it sounded like he didn't do it much. “Yeah, to spy school.”
“You said you went to college. Where did you go?”
“I have a Masters in Psychology from UVA. Well, the Master's degree I didn't get until last year. Online classes. I could be a profiler if I wanted to.”
Brooke's eyes widened for a split second in amazement. Dorin was so many things rolled into one—an ex-Marine spy with a graduate degree. She knew he had to be scary smart to do his job, but he far exceeded her expectations.
“Why do you do this?”
Dorin shrugged. “I'm good at it. Do I want to do this forever? No. I plan to retire from the field in a few years. I wouldn't mind having the opportunity to settle down at some point. I won't deny the idea of a wife and kids is appealing; and I’d want to give my potential children a way better life than I had.”
Dorin as a husband and father? The mental image of him roughhousing with a little boy or cuddling a little girl warmed her heart. She had no doubt he'd be an incredible one.
“How old were you when you went to the States?” Brooke turned in her seat, tucking one leg under her.
“I was seven.” He took a deep breath, and rubbed the back of his neck. She had come to understand that was a nervous tic, a sign that he was stressed. “Look, it's kind of a sad story, one I don't want to burden you with. The bottom line is that I was one of the very few fortunate kids who got out of a shit situation. The United States gave me a home, an education, and a purpose. I'll always be grateful for that.”
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