by Blake, Lexi
“There’s too much information on it. Please.”
“Chelsea, I can destroy it but I can’t allow you to take it.”
She would hate it. She would loathe not being in control, but he couldn’t give it to her. The look on her face made him feel like he’d been kicked in the gut. It was an actual physical bloody ache to not give her what she wanted. Some Dom he was.
“You’re sure?”
“It has to be this way. They’re on their way. They’ll be here any minute and I can’t risk losing you.”
She took a long breath and nodded. “You can let me down. I’ll do it.”
It would be easier if he had both hands, but still, she could be mean. “I swear if you pull anything, I’ll haul you to Ian’s so fast it will make your head spin.”
She smiled as he eased her to the floor. “Like last time?”
It was stupid. He couldn’t help but smile back, that first time they met fresh in his mind. “Except I’m ready for your right hook now, love. You won’t find me so easy to take out this time.”
Her eyes rolled as she straightened her ridiculously large T-shirt. It was at least two sizes too big for her and utterly hid her slender curves. Unlike him, she didn’t dress quickly. She held her hand out, silently asking for the SIG. “Yeah, you were so easy, Weston. If I recall you were an unmovable mountain and I was the little gnat trying to get your attention.”
She’d had his attention from the moment she’d attacked him. He didn’t bother to mention that while her little fists hadn’t really hurt, his cock had been aching for hours afterward. He’d turned her in to Ian that day. He didn’t intend to make the same mistake again. “I’m trusting you.”
She took the gun and flipped the device over so the underside was exposed. She proved she was proficient with firearms, quickly placing two holes in her laptop. “That should take out the chips.” She passed the gun back to him, and Simon released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I’m ready.”
Trust. At least she trusted him this much. He led her to the door, hoping they hadn’t wasted too much time.
He worked the alarm, releasing and resetting it so it would be on when they left.
“Stay close to me.” He gripped his SIG in his right hand and opened the door, quickly turning right and then left. No one. The hall was perfectly silent, as it should have been at this time of the morning. He waited for a moment, listening for any signs. Nothing at all. He reached his free hand for her. “Come along.”
She let him lead her out, waited while he closed and locked the door. “Don’t you think they can get in?”
“It buys us a couple of minutes. I have an alarm that the police will respond to. They won’t have long to look around.” They wouldn’t find anything except his sterile condo and her now useless laptop.
And the phones. He started to hurry her toward the lift as he pulled his burner phone and dialed a number he knew by heart.
“Are you calling Ian?” Chelsea asked, but she kept up with him.
“No. Adam.”
But it wasn’t Adam who answered the phone on the fourth ring.
“This better be really fucking good because I just managed to get to sleep. Whoever the fuck you are, I’m going to find you and tear your balls off and stuff them down your throat and then I’m going to put them on a plane to Europe so they have jet lag.”
He didn’t have time for Jake’s anger issues. The man hadn’t been happy with the European assignment. “I’ve got a situation.”
Jake’s voice went smooth and professional, any hint of sleep gone. “Do we have incoming?”
It wouldn’t be the first time a group had targeted the whole team. They had plans and backup plans, and the first and foremost concern was the team’s women and children. “I don’t think so. I think they’re hunting a very particular game. I have the target and I’ll call again when she’s secured. I need Adam.”
“This is Miles.” Adam came over the line as though he’d been sleeping next to Jake, which he’d likely been, their shared wife, Serena, in between them.
“Brick my phone and the target’s, too.” Adam would render their phones utterly useless and they would be on burners for the time being. The ones they left behind would be good for nothing but bricks, hence the slang.
“The target?”
“You know who she is.” Strangely, despite the fact that whoever was looking for her knew her name, he didn’t want to say it on a non-secured line. The NSA loved the digital age. They listened in on everything. Beyond whoever was trying to kill Chelsea, he had to worry about the fact that any number of legitimate intelligence agencies might use the situation as a convenient excuse to bring her in.
If they got hold of her, he would never see her again.
“Raging Bitch, then,” Adam said.
“I will rip your spine from your body if you call her that again.”
“Hey, we’re using code names, Limey Bastard.”
Whoever let Adam pick codes names needed to die. “Just brick the phones and I’ll contact you in the morning.”
“Understood. I’ll climb the ladder tonight and we’ll be waiting for your call.” Because neither one of them would sleep now. Simon understood that. They would watch over their wife and son until they got the all clear. Climbing the ladder meant Adam would start a domino of calls to the rest of the team. In minutes, everyone would know something was going on and they would likely be up Simon’s ass by morning.
They made it to the lifts and Simon dragged her close after pushing the down button. He didn’t want to lose sight of her for a minute.
“Do you need a ride?” Adam asked but Simon could already hear the sound of his fingers pounding on keys. Adam was smart and fast. He would be out in the ether of the web looking for anything about Chelsea. He would have some kind of answers by morning.
“No, I’m calling a cab if I need one. Thanks.” He was calling Jesse as soon as he hung up. Now that he thought about it, it would be better to have Jesse with him anyway. They could take Jesse’s car and trade it for Simon’s extra. Jesse was his partner. While he could call on anyone at McKay-Taggart, he preferred to use Jesse. Jesse was loyal to him. Jesse was his closest friend. Certainly there was the problem of his itchy trigger finger, but Simon wouldn’t trust anyone above him.
Simon hung up the phone.
“Where are we going?” Her eyes were up, watching the lights above the lift, her expression tight.
“Someplace safe.”
“Do you happen to have a name for this magical safe place?”
Sometimes her humor eluded him. “A motel full of prostitutes and criminals.”
“Awesome. I’m really excited about the way the whole day’s gone. I should have stayed in Europe.”
The door dinged and he prepared to get in. He’d lose the signal in the lift so he’d have to call Jesse when he got to the bottom. He’d have Jesse drive her around town for hours if he needed to, though he should ditch Jesse’s Jeep as soon as he could get to his secondary vehicle.
The doors opened and a man was standing there. Tall and lean, there was no question of who he was looking for. Even if there had been, all questions would have been answered as he lifted his gun and fired.
* * * *
Chelsea had only a second to react as the elevator doors opened revealing the next asshole who was trying to kill her. Unfortunately for him, he was also trying to kill Simon. Simon immediately pushed her aside and she hit the wall.
Pure adrenaline pumped through her veins. Her leg gave out and she fell, her ass hitting the floor. Pain flared but she forced herself to her knees. Time was of the essence. She wasn’t fast, but she had to be for Simon’s sake. He wouldn’t do the smart thing. He wouldn’t leave her behind and save himself.
The big guy was dressed in head to toe black. He strode out of the elevator, leveling his gun, a Ruger she was pretty sure, right at Simon’s head. Terror pulsed through her system. She wouldn’t
be able to handle watching him die. She couldn’t stand the thought of that big, gorgeous man silent and still forever.
Simon was on top of it. Before she could even struggle to her feet, he turned and put a slug in the man’s torso. She heard a second shot blare through the hallway. The other man slammed back into the elevator and out of her view. Simon was on top of her. He pressed the SIG into her hands.
“Time to go, love.” He hauled her up and into his arms without showing a single sign that her weight bothered him. “I’m afraid this is going to be the quickest of our options. Can you protect my back?”
She was nestled in his arms as he began to jog down the hallway to the stairs. She hated it, but he was right. Even carrying her, he was faster than she was without any impediments at all. Because of her stupid leg she would have to watch both their backs. He carried her high against his chest, allowing her to look over his shoulder.
He opened the door to the stairs and wasn’t even showing the strain of carrying both her and his go bag. “There’s a service lift at the end of each hall. I’ll take us down a few floors and then cut over to them and we’ll try to sneak out of the back entrance.”
Even though he kept his voice low, it reverberated through the empty stairwell. The lights cast everything in shadows and her heart was still pounding. “I’ll feel better when we’re in a car.”
“Can’t take the car now, love. That’s why I’m avoiding the parking garage. They very likely identified my vehicle and we know how much these men love a good bomb.”
“Shit.” She hadn’t even thought of that. He was going to lose that gorgeous Audi. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. Just reach into my pocket and grab the burner. Call Jesse. When he answers tell him I need a ride to the airport and then hang up. It’s code for him to get his arse here and quickly.”
They seemed to have codes for everything. She wasn’t sure why when they could just as easily say what they wanted, but then she wasn’t the cool spy chick. Chelsea did as Simon asked, dialing the number from memory. Charlotte had forced her to memorize the team’s numbers in case she found herself in a bind—or with a death squad on her heels. Jesse answered on the second ring and Chelsea gave him Simon’s code.
“Understood.” The code seemed to mean something to Jesse as he hung up.
“He was a little abrupt. Does that mean he’s coming to get us?”
“Yes. He’ll drop whatever he was doing and get here as fast as he can. If he was at home that should only be a few moments. He’s two blocks down from here.” Simon made quick work of the stairs but that was when they heard the door open above them. Simon stopped and flattened against the wall.
“It won’t do any good, Weston,” a voice from above said. “I’m not alone and while you’ve got great aim, those bullets you’re using won’t get through the vests we’re wearing. We’re far better armed and protected than any army you’ve come against before.”
“Shit,” Simon cursed under his breath.
“Fortunately for you, we’re also more reasonable than most armies,” the should-have-been-dead man said in a flat, Midwestern tone. “All we want is the package Mr. Krum sent to your girl and we’ll be more than happy to live and let live. As long as she hasn’t opened it, of course. To tell you the truth, we would greatly prefer to employ Miss Dennis than to fight with her.”
“You’re with The Collective.” Simon’s arms tightened around her. He had his back out, shielding her from any bullet that might come their way.
She looked up at him. They’d dealt with The Collective a couple of times before. Just a few days ago, she’d been working on an op in Europe involving the shadowy organization made up of some of the world’s most powerful companies and wealthiest men. They’d formed a sort of star chamber that oversaw the interests of the companies involved from corporate espionage to murder for hire. They seemed to love recruiting former intelligence agents.
Simon glanced at the door below them and Chelsea followed his line of vision. There were roughly half a dozen steps, but he would have to give up his defensive position to get there. The stairs wound around with a good-sized rectangular space dividing them that would give an assassin a distinct advantage. Simon couldn’t see behind him, but she could. Asshole Number One was two flights above them, but he seemed to be standing in the back, unwilling to take the chance that Simon could get a shot off. Chelsea was just waiting for Asshole Number Two, and possibly Three, to show up.
Not that it had mattered. Simon had caught the dude squarely in the chest twice. He should have been dead from the loss of his lungs, but he just kept on talking because The Collective was nothing if not on the cutting edge of technology.
“My team represents a group of businessmen who have a vested interest in the package that was sent to you. It’s very important that we have that package returned to us. Miss Dennis, if you’ll come with me, we’ll allow Weston to live. If not, we’ll simply kill him and take you anyway.”
Simon’s eyes met hers, narrowing, his voice low. “Don’t you listen to him.”
“Have you thought about what we could do for you?” The man’s voice had taken on a soothing quality. “We have medical equipment and therapies that are years away from becoming public. If you worked for us, you would have doctors at your disposal who could not only fix your legs, but make them better than before. And the tech…oh, you have no idea what’s coming.”
She had no doubt any deal she made with them would be a deal with the devil. “I bet Al didn’t know what was coming either.”
“That was unfortunate, but I think you’ll be smarter than Mr. Krum, won’t you? You won’t snap at the hand that feeds you. You would be grateful to someone who could fix your legs, wouldn’t you?”
The thought of standing tall and straight and pain free whispered through her soul. Wasn’t that what she’d always wanted? A way to erase what her father had done to her? A way to be whole again?
“How good are you, love?” Simon whispered the question in her ear, dragging her out of her very tempting thoughts.
Fuck. There was no doubt about what he was asking. She was an excellent shot. Charlotte had made sure of it. Sometimes the only place Chelsea had gone to outside of her apartment was the gun range. But she’d never had to do it while cuddled up in a man’s arms and she’d absolutely never had to do it when she was protecting a man. She simply nodded and prayed she could make the shot when the time came.
Simon’s body pressed against hers.
“You’re not going to make the same mistakes.” Asshole One seemed to really like the sound of his own voice. “Mr. Krum decided he no longer wished to be employed by my boss.”
“So you killed him. I think that will get you a severe talking to from the HR department.” She kept talking. He had to show his face sometime. He was two flights up. Chelsea gripped the SIG. The safety was already off. She lined up her shot using Simon’s broad shoulder to rest her arm.
A chuckle wound its way down the stairwell. “Even your sarcasm would be welcomed, Miss Dennis. We like smart people where I work. So I’m giving you the choice. Come with me or I’ll kill your companion and take you anyway.”
“They’ll kill me no matter what you do,” Simon said, his body tensed as though just waiting for that bullet to hit.
Then he would be as dead as Al was and she would feel that ache forever. Life had been so much easier before Charlotte decided to force her into the real world.
“I think I’ll take a hard pass on the employment offer.” She spoke but she was really thinking about the job ahead of her. He would show himself and Chelsea had to be ready. She had one chance and only one chance because if she missed and he got a shot off, Simon’s back was a far bigger target than what she would have to aim at. Simon would go down and Chelsea would be taken in.
Any minute. Any second. Breathe. Focus. Let the world narrow to a tiny pinpoint. That target was all that mattered. It wasn’t a human being. It was a target to h
it. Chelsea prided herself on always hitting her mark.
“That is unfortunate.”
And there he was. She heard him step forward, her entire being focused on one thing and one thing only. There was the light sound of his shoes squeaking across the concrete floor and then his face came into view.
Chelsea pulled the trigger.
Apparently The Collective hadn’t prepared the dude for a headshot.
She watched as his gun fell, passing her by on its way to the bottom of the stairwell. The body slumped back, disappearing from view again.
Simon took off running for the door. God. She’d killed a man. She’d done it again. She’d put a bullet in his face and he wouldn’t move or walk or talk again. If he’d had a family, he wouldn’t see them again. She didn’t know anything about him, didn’t know if someone would miss him.
She’d only known that it was him or Simon, and there was no choice between them.
“How much time do we have? Is he behind us already?” Simon asked as he raced down the hall.
He hadn’t seen what she’d done. He thought she’d just fired and bought them a moment or two. “He’s not going to follow us.”
Simon turned and Chelsea couldn’t help but continue to watch over his shoulder. “Where did you hit him?”
“Headshot. He’s gone.”
He stopped in front of the elevator doors at the end of a long hallway. He set her down and took the gun back. Pushing the button to call the elevator, he took a long breath and settled his bag over his arm again. It struck her quite forcibly that everything they had in the world was in that bag. She had to hope Simon packed properly.
She hated being out of control. It made her feel small, insignificant—like the child she’d been.
“You had to do it.” Simon was staring down at her.
She nodded. It wasn’t like it was the first time she’d killed a man. It was just the first time she’d done it with a gun. Her bucket list was getting smaller and smaller.