Hard Core (Onyx Group)

by Jennifer Lowery

  Alana returned with the First Aid kit. “Take your pants off.”

  “I don’t think you want me to do that, Doc.”

  “I know you don’t wear anything under your clothes,” she said. “I undressed you so I could treat you, remember?”

  He wasn’t unconscious this time. With a shrug, Slade shucked his jungle print cammies and stood naked in front of her. Her eyes flickered over him with the practiced detachment of a professional.

  She swallowed hard and drew in a deep breath before opening the kit in her lap. The first sign of life he’d seen yet. She wasn’t as immune as she led him to believe. When her hands touched him, he about jumped out of his skin. One hand cupped the back of his thigh, the other gently cleaned away the blood. Her touch heated him from inside out. His body responded immediately and he didn’t try to hide it. Alana’s focus moved from where she cleaned his skin to his erection and her hand stilled.

  Slade looked down, saw her staring at him, and broke out in a sweat. She was so close. He imagined he could even feel her warm breath on his already heated flesh. All he’d have to do was turn slightly. Her lips were already parted, but she’d open for him fully. She could take him in her sweet mouth, so warm and willing…

  “Hurry up, Doc,” he said through gritted teeth and focused on the wall.

  She jumped, looked down, and quickly bandaged his leg. When she finished, she pushed her chair back and busied herself cleaning up.

  Slade left the room to go put on clean, dry clothes and pack his bags, cursing himself for giving her something to do. He would have been better off bleeding.

  With his bags and her patient, he guided Alana off the boat. They didn’t speak. Right now he had to get them safely to the inn and wait for the team to arrive. He’d figure out the rest from there.

  Their small room had only one bed, and a kitchenette. Alana’s patient woke and started to panic as soon as Slade put him down on the bed. Slade had to hold him down while she gave him another sleeping pill.

  “What the hell is wrong with him?” Slade demanded, rising from the bed to glare at the man now sleeping peacefully.

  “He’s terrified,” she answered. “He has every right to be. We both tried to kill him.”

  Slade looked at her, but she stared at her patient. He’d wanted to break the man’s neck when he attacked Alana on the beach. He didn’t remember her trying to kill him.

  “What do you mean?”

  She turned a flat gaze to him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Slade didn’t push. She was still in shock, her face deathly white. The bruises marring her skin stood out like neon signs. She looked like hell. He couldn’t believe this woman had tried to execute her patient. She wasn’t a killer. He would know.

  “Eventually, we’ll talk,” he said. “Why don’t you take a shower while we wait for my team to get here?”

  “What team?”

  “I called in some backup. They should be here in a few hours.”

  “More mercenaries,” she murmured. “I don’t have any clean clothes. But that’s okay, I don’t need a shower. I’ll just sit and wait.”

  She moved to one of the chairs and flipped on the television, staring blankly at it.

  He wished she’d open the floodgates before the team arrived. But pushing her didn’t seem like a good idea, so he let it go. He didn’t like this rocky ground he tread on. The only thing he knew to do was wait her out.

  Chapter 12

  A knock sounded on the door. Alana sat in front of the television, her patient asleep. Slade opened the door for the three rugged men who filed into the room.

  He closed it behind them, glancing at Alana, who looked away from the screen to stare at them. Quickly, he made introductions and Alana greeted them before turning her attention back to the television.

  “Is she okay?” Ryden asked quietly, leaning his shoulders against the wall.

  “No.”

  “What exactly have you gotten yourself into, Slade?” Sarver sat down at the table. “Who’s the guy in the bed?”

  “Hell if I know,” Slade answered. He cast another glance at Alana, who looked ready to break. Not the woman who’d force-fed him antibiotics and managed to stick him with a needle. “She won’t talk to me.”

  “How about you tell us what you do know.” Ryden took a seat across from Sarver. Mercer remained standing in front of the door, silent and watchful.

  He turned his back and spoke quietly so Alana wouldn’t overhear. He told them about his capture, escape, and how he ended up in her camp.

  “She’s a doctor?” Sarver asked with a glance at Alana, who paid no attention to them. “And she managed to stick you with a needle?”

  To look at her now, he’d never guess there was a strong, stubborn woman beneath the stoic mask. Slade could understand their disbelief. Normally he would have left those kinds of details out, but he needed to defend Alana’s character until they found out for themselves the woman she really was. Why it mattered, he didn’t know. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to analyze it.

  “She’s tougher than she looks,” Slade murmured, tearing his gaze off her. “Long story short, Ross kidnapped her for reasons unknown and slaughtered her father and the tribe they lived with. I missed a shot at Ross when I rescued her and her patient and brought them here. Ross’s men will be here anytime, if they aren’t already. They’ll recognize my boat.”

  “So we’re on protective detail.” Ryden nodded. “Not our usual forte.”

  “We need answers.” Sarver nudged a chin toward Alana. “We need to know why she’s so valuable to Ross.”

  Alana got up from her chair and walked over to stare at the four men. It took mettle on her part because the men who stared back at her were not ordinary men, they were hardened mercenaries.

  “You want to know why Gavin Ross will come after me?” she asked them. “Because I have something he needs.”

  “Alana--” Slade began, but she cut him off with a raised hand. Trembling and pale, she looked ready to fall apart. He wanted to tell her this could wait. To protect her from having to tell what happened in Ross’s basement, but she waved him off.

  “See that man lying over there?” she continued.

  None of the men answered, simply waited for her to go on.

  “A few short hours ago I stood over him with a scalpel, prepared to cut him open without anesthesia so I could remove his kidneys, liver, and pancreas. He was strapped naked to a gurney in a cold room, fully aware of what I was about to do to him.” She broke off, her breath hitched.

  Slade remained in place, watching her as she flashed back to that room.

  “Gavin Ross kidnapped me from my family so I could harvest organs for him. He made me choose between my father and that man.” She pointed to the man asleep in the bed. “I chose to save my family and murder him. There you have it. I know about Gavin’s criminal activities and so does he. We both know how he makes his living and he will stop at nothing to get me back. Not only for what I know, but for what I can do for him. Does that answer your question?”

  Her gaze landed directly on Rick Sarver, letting them know she’d overheard every word. Sarver cursed and looked at Slade.

  “How about the rest of you? Any more questions?” Alana’s voice vibrated with tension. “Any of you want to know how my hand shook when I was about to cut into that innocent man?” She held up her slender hands, visibly shaking. “These were once my ticket to paradise. People wrote articles about these hands when I was still a med student at Harvard. These hands were gifted to save lives. Not to…take…a…”

  When she broke off, Slade saw her walls begin to crumble. She looked directly at him, but there were no tears in her eyes. She held it together, refusing to give in.

  “I’m not like you,” she said angrily, directly to him. “I’m not a killer. I don’t take lives for money. I save people, dammit! I use these hands to save lives.”

  The three men glanced uncertainly at Sla
de. Alana blazed with fury aimed at him. He understood now what Ross had made her do, why he’d wanted her, and it made him want to harvest the bastard’s organs without anesthesia just to see him suffer. Ross had stripped Alana of her pride and made her go against her moral code.

  The pin in the grenade had been pulled.

  She stalked over so she could glare up at him with venom. “I’m not like you,” she spat. “I have a heart. I care about people.”

  When he didn’t respond, she slapped her hands on his chest.

  “Why you?” she cried. “Why did it have to be you?” Tears gathered in her eyes. “Why did you have to be the last person my father saw?”

  The torment in her voice cut straight through Slade’s walls. He didn’t reach for her. Didn’t offer comfort. He was no good with comfort and matters of the heart. Her suffering was punishment enough.

  The tears she’d been holding back fell silently down her cheeks and tore him to shreds.

  “I hate you for being there when he died,” she said, still angry. “It should have been me. Dammit, it shouldn’t have been you.”

  With a frustrated cry, she started pounding his chest with her fists. Slade stood rigid, allowing her to punish him. “Tell me how he died,” she demanded and when he remained silent hit him again. “Tell me, dammit!”

  Her tirade continued and Slade took it.

  “Tell me what Gavin did to my father, Cristian!” she shouted. “You owe me that.” Suddenly she collapsed against his chest, her shoulders wracked with tears. “Tell me what he did to my father,” she sobbed. “Tell me he didn’t suffer. Tell me you were kind to him. Oh, God, I should have been there. Why wasn’t I there when he needed me most?”

  The fight went out of her and she wilted, curling into him like a frightened child.

  “Dammit, Doc,” Slade muttered hoarsely and swung her into his arms. Oblivious to the men watching in stunned silence, he carried her to the sofa against the far wall. Too exhausted to fight, she wrapped herself around him, her face buried in his shoulder. Her tears fell wet against his neck and his heart jolted in his chest.

  Gently, he deposited her on the small, worn sofa and watched her curl into a ball, her face deathly white. He wanted to make it all better. Take her pain away. Give her father back to her.

  None of which he could do. He could kill the man that had done this to her. That, he could give her.

  Her eyes closed, tears drying on her cheeks, making her look frail. So much misery. So much pain.

  “I never got to say goodbye,” she whispered brokenly. “They’re all gone.”

  Slade reached out a hand, but pulled it back. He could offer her no comfort except one.

  “He’ll pay for this, Alana,” he said quietly. “That I promise you.”

  Someone handed him a blanket over his shoulder. Slade looked up to see Ryden standing there. He accepted the offering and placed it over Alana. Her breathing slowed, her body tense even in sleep.

  He rose to his feet. Gavin Ross had made one fatal mistake.

  He’d made this personal.

  * * * *

  “What the hell was that?” Sarver stared at the sofa where Alana lay, eyes closed.

  Slade rubbed a hand over his chest and wished he was alone. The ache wasn’t physical. Alana couldn’t hurt him with her fists. But her words had cut straight through. He’d known Alana was close to detonation, but that hadn’t prepared him for her meltdown. He almost regretted calling in a team in now. Alana had enough to deal with. More mercenaries were not helpful.

  For some unknown reason, Slade felt as if the three men had intruded on the moment. They shouldn’t have seen Alana break down. It was a personal, private matter. Not to be broadcasted amongst strangers. He knew they would allow Alana her privacy and never bring it up, but he didn’t like that they knew. Not one damn bit.

  “I’ve never seen…” Ryden began but didn’t finish. “What the hell happened on that island?”

  “Nothing that should have,” Slade murmured. “Intel didn’t show anyone else on the island.”

  “Intel isn’t always one-hundred percent. Do you think anyone survived?”

  Slade shook his head. “No.”

  “Then we don’t need a rescue. We protect them until we take Ross out.”

  Slade looked at Ryden and nodded. Ryden had always been the easiest-going of all of six of them. Mercer, he never said much, and didn’t go out of his way to get along with others. Slade identified with the man’s aloofness. Ryden, a cowboy, with a slight drawl and a swagger to match his boots and cocky smile, had a hardness to him they all identified with. Each of them had their secrets. Came with the job. Gallagher was the only one who didn’t seem to have any. Which made them wonder why he chose this type of business.

  “This is an unholy mess.” Sarver rose from his chair to pace to the window. “We aren’t bodyguards.”

  Slade understood their frustration. They weren’t in the business of security.

  “We’re in the business of making the world a safer place,” Ryden said pointedly. “Ross is part of that business. Now, so are Alana and her patient. If we can’t protect her by taking Ross out, who can?”

  Sarver turned away from the window and crossed his arms over his broad chest, dark eyes somber, but he didn’t disagree. Mercer, who remained watchful and silent, crossed his ankles and maintained his perch against the wall.

  “Ross slaughtered her family. What do you think he’ll do to her?” Ryden continued in a low tone in case Alana was playing possum. “How do you want to handle this?” He addressed the question to Slade.

  Drained and weakened, he knew he’d lost a lot of blood and needed a few hours’ sleep. Slade sat down at the table opposite Ryden. “I can’t protect her and go after Ross at the same time,” he admitted. It had proved an impossible task so far.

  “We can put her in a safe house.”

  He’d already thought of that. He trusted only one to be impenetrable. “I want her in my penthouse in Chicago.”

  “You have a penthouse?” Sarver asked.

  At that moment Slade realized how undisclosed he really was. If he couldn’t trust his teammates, who could he trust? He’d been working with these men for four years. They dropped everything to come to his aid.

  “You think she’ll be safer there than one of our safe houses?” Ryden questioned.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re okay with us invading your space?”

  No, he wasn’t okay with it. He didn’t want anyone in his space. He didn’t share. He liked being alone. But, Alana would be the safest there.

  Slade nodded and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t see any other choice.”

  “What about him?” Sarver nudged his chin toward the man lying in bed.

  His eyelids were getting heavy. “He knows about Ross, that makes him a target also.”

  “There seems to be some angst between him and Alana. Maybe we should send him to a different location.”

  Remembering how the patient reacted to Alana every time he woke up, Slade agreed. “Until Ross is out of the picture.”

  “Fortier is climbing the walls with his recovery,” Ryden said. “This would get him off Gallagher’s back. Fool thinks he can go back into active duty after his car exploded with him in it.”

  “No leads on who did it yet?” Onyx Group took measures to remain anonymous, but that was never a sure thing. Not in this line of work.

  “Nothing. Who the hell knows? I say send the guy to the bayou and give Fortier something to do besides bitch,” Sarver answered, sounding spooked and irritable.

  “Make the call.”

  Sarver pulled out his cell and left the room to talk in private.

  “Fortier will need backup. He’s not one-hundred percent yet,” Ryden said. “I can have Gallagher send Bodley. He knows how to get around Fortier’s moods.”

  Carter Bodley, the Brit with the uncanny ability to appear and reappear without warning. “Not going to b
e necessary.” Slade had no intention of letting Gavin Ross make it to the States.

  “Gallagher will demand it.”

  And he would. So Slade shrugged and let Ryden make the call to Gallagher. While he did that, Slade took a minute of down time. His body demanded sleep. Maybe he’d catch a power nap once Alana was safely on her way to the States. Until then, he was in battle mode.

  Mercer, who hadn’t moved, spoke softly. “She won’t go.”

  Slade glanced at him. “To Chicago? She has to.”

  Mercer, with his unusual gold colored eyes, shook his head. “She won’t go without a fight.”

  The last thing Slade wanted to hear. Mercer, who never had anything to say, always seemed to make his words count when he did speak. And damn the man’s ability to read people.

  “Why the hell not?” he ground out.

  Mercer pushed off the wall. “Her heart is here. She won’t leave.”

  Slade pushed out of his chair. “Don’t give me that Zen bullshit, Mercer. I’m not in the mood.”

  Mercer held up his hands and backed away. Slade paced to the door, then to the sink. His leg throbbed, his side ached. He didn’t need Mercer’s insight. Not right now. Right now he needed Alana safely out of the way so he could do his job. Complications, he didn’t need. He had enough of them already.

  “When’s the last time you slept?” Ryden disconnected his call.

  Slade shrugged.

  “We booked the room next door. Take a power nap. We can take off in the morning. You can’t run on empty. Too risky.”

  Damn. He’d hoped to have Alana on her way by then. He didn’t want to spend another night here. It only delayed what he had to do. With her in Chicago, he’d be free to move. But, Ryden was right. If he didn’t recharge, he’d be risking Alana’s life. They were safe for the night. Leaving first thing in the morning would have to work. For now, he’d keep her safely by his side.

  The thought of her being out of his sight caused him hesitation. He trusted no one except himself to keep his promise to her father. In this case, he’d have to trust his teammates to do it. It settled hard in his chest. If anything happened to her, he would fail his promise. Not an option. But his hands were tied. No other way to do this.