Surrendering To Her Sergeant

by Angel Payne

  The model tittered again. He managed a convincing grin in return until Bella cleared her throat and draped her free hand around his knee. That didn’t shift the other woman an inch toward a yellow light much less a red.

  “Have you been sleeping in your trailer, Sergeant Archer?”

  He let a meaningful beat go by. “Perhaps.”

  “In your uniform, or out of it?”

  With deceiving calm, Stock rose to his feet. This flummoxed all four of the hostesses so much, they sloshed their coffee in an effort to match his move. The action clearly hadn’t been discussed before the broadcast. Though this was live TV, a general sense of choreography was followed as closely as scripted material. Stock’s impromptu move ensured he had the full attention of everyone on set—except Bella, who was busy sliding a minx’s grin at Ethan. She was definitely “in” on whatever the man had up his sleeve.

  Ethan’s mind responded with only one word, coming right after a thousand cords of tension gripped his muscles. The same cords that the team had termed “Runway’s shit storm sensors.”

  Fuck.

  “As fascinating as we all find the subject of Sergeant Archer’s sleep apparel,” —he let everyone in the studio react with hearty laughs— “I am excited to ask he and my leading lady to join me over here for an even more exciting announcement.”

  The shit storm alarms pealed through him now. Using mind over matter, he got to his feet along with Bella and let her drag him by one hand to Stock’s side. “Tell them already!” she urged the director, bouncing in her stilt-high heels.

  “Patience, patience,” Stock soothed back.

  “Tell us already!” The four hostesses belted it together. One of them motioned at Bella for a high five on the deal but she was so riveted on Stock, she didn’t notice.

  Fuck. It gonged through Ethan again, making Stock’s relaxed confidence feel like a goddamn kick in the teeth.

  “All right, all right.” The man held out his hands, milking the moment, making all the woman wail again. At last he continued, “A while ago, we heard that a special celebrity would be rolling through town today. We asked him, that if we could secure approval from the network to shift the Dress Blues live episode to tonight, if he’d be open to doing a special cameo on the show. To our excitement, he agreed. He’s here now to talk a little about it with all of you, too.”

  As Stock finished that, he swept an arm out toward the entranceway, accompanied by a musical swell that turned Ethan’s bloodstream to ice and his heartbeat into a scream.

  Hail to the Chief.

  He slammed his shaking hand to his sweating brow as President Craig Nichols walked out on the stage.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ava moaned. What the hell had she drunk last night? And with how many kinds of hooch? Qué paso? She hadn’t been hung over like this for years. Her head hammered. Her throat felt like the Mojave, cacti plants intact. Hadn’t she already learned this lesson? Who the hell had she been out with last night? She couldn’t remember anything past the beautiful way she’d started the day, in Ethan’s arms at Ricochet.

  Maybe she needed to roll over and sleep off the rest of it.

  A woman’s scream ensured that wasn’t going to happen. It was sad. Horrified. Grieving.

  And oh hell…was she naked?

  She forced her eyes open. She still had her underthings on, thank God. And now that blessed silence surrounded her again—

  Except for the buzzing. Lots of it. Too angry and animalistic to be her inner ears resisting her headache.

  Slowly, she turned her head.

  “Ave Maria!”

  She skittered back in the chair. The large jar of pissed-off bees, anxious to find their queen again, was less than three feet from her toes. If even one of those shits got to her, the situation would be—

  She cut into that thought with a horror-stricken sob.

  “Ssshhh.” A man in desert camouflage, who’d be the poster guy for smoky handsomeness if it wasn’t for the automatic rifle in his grip, issued it. “Cálmate, mija. You’re safe and so is your man, as long as you stay put.”

  Inside seconds, the missing memories rushed back. Ethan on the phone with Luna Lawrence. Their insane drive to the hotel. Ethan spotting Franzen and Colton inside then parking her car on the sidewalk. And then—

  Holy shit. She wasn’t hung over. She’d been hit by industrial-strength sleeping gas. They all had.

  “I’m not your mija,” she snarled.

  The soldier shrugged. “Fair enough. As long as you stay there with your little amigos, we don’t have a problem.”

  “Where’s Ethan?” From the moment the man had referenced him, her heartbeat had spiked into a new realm of terror. What the hell had they done with him?

  “He is fine as long as you are obedient.” He cocked his head, looking even more like a magazine spread as his black hair fell into his eyes. “You do know how to obey a man, don’t you?”

  She huddled her legs against her chest, shuddering at how the guy raked his stare over her near nakedness. She chose to believe that Lor and Stock had threatened his balls if they got anywhere near her. And if not, she knew plenty of ways to hurt an asshole simply by watching the show’s stunt experts teach the moves to Bella.

  She had to focus. She had to try and think.

  First priority was a quick assessment of her surroundings. She recognized things at once. They were in one of the trailers the studio reserved for guest stars of the show. It had the basics: a couple of couches and chairs, makeup mirror and vanity, kitchenette with a fridge and sink, widescreen TV, and a short hallway into a windowless bedroom. She sensed they weren’t in the structure alone and hoped that instinct was right.

  “Wh-where are the others?” she asked the soldier. “The ones you and your boss decided to ‘put down’ along with me?”

  He jerked his chin toward the bedroom. “They are safe.”

  A hurricane in the form of a five-foot-three blond burst from that direction in retaliation. “The hell we are, asshole.” Sage’s face was streaked with tears, fear, and desperation. Her hand shook on top of her protruding belly. “We are not safe! And you aren’t fucking doing anything about it!”

  The guard responded with an impassive stare. Sage sobbed, grimaced, then sank into the chair next to Ava. Moments later, Rayna appeared. After locking hands with Ava, openly grateful to see her alive, Ray kneeled next to her friend. As she did, Sage’s face contorted harder. “Sweetie,” she whispered, “you have to try and stay calm. Breathe, Sage. Please breathe.”

  “Good advice,” the soldier stated.

  Rayna snapped a glower at him. “Shut up. Can’t you see what this is doing to her? She’s nearly eight months along, asshat. Do the math. If you don’t radio out and at least try to get a doctor in here, this might get really messy.”

  “Wh-what’s wrong?” Ava reached to Sage. “Are you okay? Is it the baby?”

  Rayna gave the answer since the question seemed to worsen Sage’s distress. “Not yet,” she murmured, “but if Garrett doesn’t get attention soon—”

  “Garrett?” Ava blinked in confusion. “How? Why?”

  Rayna gulped. Her dark green eyes gained a gloss of tears, too. “He’s still out.”

  “Out where?”

  “Out, cuz. Asleep. He and Sage were closest to the sleeping gas canister when it went off, but he covered her head with his jacket and his own body. He took the brunt of it for all of us. They supposedly ventilated him for a while but when Stock snapped his fingers and rallied the minions up, nobody was designated to stay and monitor Garrett.”

  Ava processed the revelation as calmly as she could. “But he’s still alive, right?”

  Sage started trembling from head to toe. She pushed Ava’s hand away before baring her teeth in a snarl at the guard. “Depends on what you call alive.”

  Rayna explained, “His pulse is thready and his pupils won’t respond to light. And his spinal reflexes are really slow.”

/>   Ava nodded softly but didn’t push her cousin for anything more. None of that sounded good and she figured both the women, who were medical corps, had already started guessing at diagnoses. Sage looked awful. Her pale profile was a picture of consuming anguish, except for the spasms that made her grimace with such regularity, Rayna started noting them with quiet glances at her watch.

  Ava’s heart panged. This wasn’t fair. Two years ago, Sage had been presumed dead by the world until Garrett rescued her from a slave trader’s den in Thailand. Now her body swelled with new life, a miracle that had turned Garrett as giddy as a flute-playing minstrel dancing in a meadow. Thinking of him beneath that imaginary meadow instead, dead before ever seeing his child…

  No. She couldn’t go there. She wouldn’t.

  Taking care to keep her feet tucked beneath her, she pressed toward the guard as far as she dared. “Amigo,” she implored. “Por favor, you must listen—”

  He chopped her short by lifting his rifle. “I’m not your amigo, remember?” he retorted. “Probably for the best, anyway. Shit’s gonna go down soon and I don’t wanna be on your side, honey.”

  Rayna bared her teeth at the bastard. “This has nothing to do with sides! This has everything to do with decency. Do you want a man’s death on your conscience?”

  The guy unfurled a wide, lethal smile. “Just add it to the stack, mijita.”

  Ava squeezed her eyes shut to activate the kill switch on looking at him anymore. It was better than killing him, which every cell in her body begged her for. If she popped open her bra, how many seconds of distraction would that get her? Certainly it wouldn’t take any longer than that to lunge the few feet to him, grab the rifle, and—

  The plan was ripped off the table in the next moment. Her eyes flew wide as the trailer’s door was yanked back. But after the panel traveled a few inches, seemingly tugged by a ghost, it got shut again. The guard peered, blatantly curious. His frown deepened when the motion happened again. The third time, he got to his feet with the rifle poised in front of him.

  Less than a second later, with less sound than a wisp of wind, Tait Bommer filled the space between the soldier and the door. He’d brought a pair of helpful accessories. Each of the pistols filled one of his big, steady hands. Their muzzles, nicely fitted with specialty suppressors, were a perfect fit on top of the guard’s eyebrows.

  “You willing to die for your mission today, asshole? If not, secure the safety on that stick and let it down nice and slow.”

  Without a word, the soldier complied. Tait pushed him further into the trailer while kicking open the door behind him, allowing someone to climb in behind him. Astonishment jumped into her mosh pit of emotions now. It was Luna Lawrence, the nutcase who’d helped that Mua monster to nearly recapture Rayna last year. The woman was the same—but not. She still wore head-to-toe black, accented now by a matching backpack, and the lavender streaks in her hair still matched her fingernails. But the torment in her eyes was gone. And even in this insane situation, the creases of anger had been erased from the corners of her mouth.

  That was when the mosh pit came to a stunned stop. Ava’s gape stretched wider. The woman to whom Ethan had talked this morning, when he called from Ricochet seeking the CIA guy, had been named Luna. And if someone stuck a brown wig, pencil skirt, and heels on this woman, she could pass for a saucy studio accountant…

  What the hell?

  “Hi.” The woman herself broke into that rumination with deliberate friendliness. “It’s Ava, right? You okay? Hey, cute naughty nothings. Freddy’s of Hollywood or Vicky’s Sec—holy shit!” She gingerly pushed the bee jar away with her booted toe. “What bozo thought that would be funny?”

  Tait grunted. “Hey, flower?”

  Luna’s lips quirked. “Yes, dear?”

  “As much as I love listening to you talk about panties and shit, I could use some of your bondage expertise over here.”

  “Oh yes, Sir!” She set down the backpack but not before reaching behind the chair and pulling out Ava’s clothes. “You probably want these now.”

  Since Rayna seemed just as excited to see Luna as Tait, Ava decided her bewilderment about the woman could go on hold. She gratefully accepted the wad from Luna before watching as the woman unload her pack. Out came four more pistols, a steel box labeled Breaching Kit, a handful of sheathed Bowie knives, a couple of hand scopes, and two filled water bottles. It looked like there was a bunch more but that was the point when the woman reached a pack of plastic zip ties and a large roll of duct tape.

  Finally, Ava found her voice again. “How did you two know where we were?”

  Luna smiled. “You can thank Ethan. That man of yours can think on his feet.” She yanked out a long swath of the tape and nicked it for a tear with her teeth. “Is my boy toy ready for me, Weasley?”

  “Damn straight, baby,” Tait drawled.

  “Have—have you seen Ethan?” Ava stammered. “Where is he? What’s happening?”

  Luna bobbled her head for a second. “There’s a really interesting answer for that.”

  “Tell me.” She backed the demand by shooting to her feet but was forced to sit back down, clutching her clothes in front of her, as Rhett. Rebel, and Kellan stumbled out of the bedroom at that moment. With them was another guy who had the potential of being a life-size Ken doll, though right now, the four of them looked more like the toys some kid had dragged through the backyard one too many times. When Luna jogged her chin toward the guy and cracked something about “Dan the man, back in action,” Ava made the connection that this was the CIA agent Ethan had been looking for this morning.

  “Ava.” Kellan stepped forward to address her but respectfully dropped his head so she could at least get into her T-shirt again. “I know this won’t help much, but I don’t think they’re going to hurt Ethan soon. When they came and got him, I stayed coherent long enough to hear Stock ordering him into his Class A’s.”

  “Makes sense considering with whom he was doing the grip-and-grin a few hours after that.”

  As Tait stated that, Franzen staggered out to join the party. He looked worse than the others combined, blue polo shirt clinging to his sweat-soaked torso, eyes bloodshot, skin sallow. “That sucked worse than fast-roping on those Afghan gun pirates in the middle of that gnarly sandstorm.”

  Tait crossed to his captain with grim purpose. “Sorry to be the messenger, Cap, but there won’t be spa time yet. We have to get our shit together. Something major is coming down the line, and soon.”

  “That’s exactly what our friend kindly shared.” Ava was busy yanking up her jeans so she just dipped her head at Mr. Gorgeous and Evil, who glared as Luna wound the tape to his ankles in an intricate figure eight.

  Franzen wrenched open the trailer’s refrigerator. He went straight for the freezer section, hauling out the bucket under the automatic icemaker. As soon as he plopped the thing in the sink, he rammed his face into it. After drying off with a paper towel, he told Tait, “First things first. Did you and Luna bring wheels?”

  “Affirmative. We’ve stashed the vehicle between soundstages eighteen and nineteen. It’s quiet over there; take it from the guy who’s kept tabs on most of this place for the last week.” He circled his stare to the others as he hoisted the goodie bag of weaponry onto the counter next to the sink. “But we won’t need it. This fox is hiding right in the backyard.”

  Colton flashed a knowing smirk at Luna. “I see you remembered where the fun room was.”

  She grinned back. “Memorized the code for that before the front door.”

  “Nice work. And the car you brought? It’s the Fiat?” After her confirming nod, he beamed his confident look at Franzen. “It’s not big but it’s fast. It’ll get the job done.”

  “Outstanding,” Franzen replied.

  “What job?” Tait asked.

  The captain’s jaw clenched. “Hawkins isn’t in great shape. Still in lullaby land with a set of vitals that isn’t pretty.”

  Rayn
a stood. “And I’m fairly certain that Sage is in the early stages of labor, too.”

  “I heard that.” Right after she flung the accusation, Sage whimpered, grabbed her stomach, and rolled her head back in pain. “And I’m—officially—refuting it.”

  Rayna folded her arms. “Uh-huh.”

  “Ray, please. I can’t have this baby without Garrett!”

  Rayna dropped back down to her friend’s side and clasped their hands. “Look at me. Listen to me. You’ve slept in jungles. Scared off cobras. Slogged through swamps lined in worms. Don’t you dare wimp out on me now, Sergeant Sage Hawkins. Garrett has to get the attention he needs. While he does, I’m not leaving your side.”

  Franzen nodded decisively. “That settles it. Z and Rayna will take Garrett and Sage to the hospital. Everyone else, huddle up so T-Bomb can fill us in on what we missed during our nap.” He turned his nearly black gaze straight toward Ava. “Ms. Chestain, you’re not on my payroll. I can’t order you to do this, but damn, we could use your help. Nobody knows the lay of the land around here better than you.”

  She stepped forward until she stood next to the other guys, feeling like a sapling in a grove of sequoias but returning Franzen’s stare without hesitation. “Nobody cares about getting Ethan away from those shits more than me, either. So yes, Captain. I’m in.”

  Way, way in.

  Deeper than she could bring herself to admit.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Cut! Great work!”

  Cameron’s command boomed through the set, followed by a wild burst of applause from the crew and support staff. Today even Charlie Jenkow himself, normally too busy running things to applaud them, joined the ovation. Ethan supposed that was what happened when the leader of the free world was the guy in the shot with Bella.

  The woman herself clapped ecstatically before hugging President Nichols. “You are so damn good!” She cut her gushing short by slapping a hand to her mouth. “Oh, no. I just swore in front of the president.”