“You’re going to leave them behind?”
Cristian’s face hardened into a tight mask of control. “They can take care of themselves.”
Bothered that he could so easily leave them to their own defenses against a man who wouldn’t hesitate to slaughter them all, she glared at him. She’d seen what Gavin could do. The man was ruthless, merciless, when it came to getting what he wanted. Nothing would stop him from getting her.
“But...” She glanced at Sam and Caleb, who stared back at her with equally fierce expressions that told her she insulted them by arguing. Foolish, stubborn men. Did all mercenaries think they were invincible? They had no idea what kind of man came their way.
Mercer came back into the room. “Fortier and Sarver are moving Dave to another location. Bodley got delayed in Azbakastan.”
Azbakastan? Where on earth was Azbakastan? Alana’s nerves frayed a bit more. She didn’t want to hear about Azbakastan or what this man named Bodley was doing there or what delayed him. Her fear must have shown on her face because Mercer frowned at her, then at the others, saying, “What did I miss?”
Alana turned away and wrapped her arms around her waist. Her every last nerve stood on end, ready to snap. She had no control over the situation and it made her edgy. Things like this just didn’t happen. Or so she’d naively once thought.
“Are we leaving?” Mercer asked.
“Yes. Sam, need to borrow your truck,” Cristian said.
She stiffened. This was happening. She could do nothing about it except go along. Gavin held all the cards, leaving her empty handed.
“Keys are in it.”
They shuffled her out the door minutes later. As Cristian piled her in a newer four-wheel drive truck, she realized she had no belongings. No bags, no purse, no money. Nothing but the borrowed clothes on her back.
A punch of reality she didn’t want to take. It left her breathless in the front seat next to Cristian, who climbed behind the wheel and turned the key, bringing the engine to life. His army-green duffle was in the back, along with Mercer’s. They had stuff. A life somewhere. Maybe even families like Sam.
What did she have?
An empty ache filled her chest. Mercer jumped in the back seat and Cristian backed out of the drive. In the darkness he couldn’t see her rubbing her chest, trying to take away the ache.
She watched the lights of Sam’s house fade into the distance. A heavy weight settled on her shoulders. Worry. Fear. Uncertainty. For the men protecting her. Because of her they might lose their lives. They were putting themselves in danger for her. Sam and Caleb were staying behind and risking their lives in order to protect her.
The burden of that weighed even heavier on her and she wrapped her arms around her waist, pressing into the seat, wishing herself somewhere else.
They turned onto the main road and Cristian pressed the gas pedal, the powerful truck shooting forward. It made her feel even more alone as they traveled away from Sam’s ranch. She glanced over her shoulder, but the lights were gone. Sam and Caleb were gone.
Biting down on her lip, she turned back around, feeling Cristian’s eyes on her. Refusing to look at him, she stared out the side window at the passing darkness, feeling lost. Like sinking into a bottomless pit. Gavin Ross did this to her, pushed her into the pit.
“Stop,” Cristian said quietly so Mercer wouldn’t hear.
Alana looked at him, unable to read his expression in the dim lights of the dashboard. “What did you say?”
He didn’t look at her when he spoke. “Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Thinking.”
Baffled, she shook her head. “You want me to stop thinking?”
“You’re sending out negative vibes.”
“And they’re what? Ruining your chi?”
“Mercer’s maybe, not mine. Stop worrying.”
Alana scoffed. “Stop worrying,” she repeated. “I like you better when you’re brooding and stoic.” She was pushing him away when she needed him more than ever. She didn’t want to think of him as her only lifeline. Right now he was exactly that. And she hated that dependency. The weakness.
“Sam and Caleb can take care of themselves.”
So he kept telling her. Leaning her head back against the seat, she closed her eyes and said wearily, “I’m too tired to argue.”
“Recline the seat and rest. We won’t stop until we need fuel.”
Wishing she could curl up next to him, Alana did as suggested and reclined her seat. Maybe she’d wake from this nightmare and everything would be right.
But, as she closed her eyes and tried to relax, she knew that wouldn’t happen. This nightmare was far from over.
Part of her wondered if it would ever end.
Or if Gavin Ross would ever stop.
And what would happen to her if he didn’t.
* * * *
Her father’s bloody hand reached out to her, but hard as she tried, she couldn’t get to him. Alana looked down at her feet to see they were bare, torn, and bleeding in her efforts to save her father. Around her, the village burned, everyone she loved slaughtered, massacred. Bodies littered the ground near her feet, their eyes open and empty, staring at her, asking her even in death why she didn’t save them.
“I tried,” she cried. She’d made a deal with the devil that would keep them safe.
“Alana, my darling, come. We have work to do,” Gavin spoke through the smoke swirling around her.
“No,” she said, a shudder working its way down her spine. She knew that voice, knew what he wanted her to do.
“The deal has been made. You are a woman of your word. You will sacrifice yourself to me now. Come, your patient awaits.”
“No!” Alana screamed, looking at the bodies surrounding her. “I won’t go with you now. You broke our agreement. You killed my father.”
“I own you.”
The smoke covering her shifted and she felt his presence. Close, almost touching her. Ready to take her away and turn her into a murderer.
Run.
She tried, but her feet were frozen to the ground. Straining, feeling his breath on her neck, she tried to run, knowing he was only a few steps behind.
“Alana.”
“No! I won’t go--”
His hand wrapped around her elbow, slimy like a snake.
“No,” she screamed, fighting him. She would never belong to him. Never. She would die first...
“Alana. Wake up.”
She woke with a start, hearing someone screaming. Slapping the hand holding her shoulder, she pressed against the door, realizing the screaming came from her.
Wide-eyed, she looked around her, trying to acclimate herself. Sam’s truck. Cristian driving. No, pulled over to the side of the road. Mercer in the back, staring at her, looking a little spooked.
A nightmare.
Chest heaving, she looked at Cristian, who held his hands up to show he was no threat to her. She knew that, but it didn’t stop her from shying away when he reached for her. Too soon to be touched. Not with the nightmare spinning in her head. Not with her emotions so raw.
“You were screaming.” Cristian backed off and placed his hands on top of the steering wheel. Lines bracketed his mouth and even he looked spooked. She’d never thought she’d see the day something shook the hardened mercenary.
“Geezus,” Mercer said from the back seat. “You about gave me a coronary screaming like that. Must have been some dream.”
Sobering, Alana tucked her shaking hands in her lap. “It was nothing.” A little spooked herself, she reached over and turned on the heat, aiming the vents toward her.
“Didn’t sound like nothing,” Mercer murmured, settling down in his seat and leaning his head back, eyes closed.
“Can we drop it?” she asked, more forcefully than intended.
Cristian put the truck in gear and maneuvered onto the road. They rode in silence for a few minutes. “Want to talk about it?”
�
��No.”
He let it drop and slowly the nightmare faded. When she finally stopped shivering, she turned to Cristian. “I need a promise from you.”
He went rigid in his seat. “Anything.”
She drew in a deep breath. “Promise me you’ll kill me if Gavin ever takes me.”
* * * *
Kill her.
Those words echoed through Slade’s soul, making him ache. The promise was so absurd he almost laughed, but when he looked at Alana he saw nothing except serious determination.
“Promise me, Slade.” She used his professional name for the first time, speaking to the mercenary, not the man.
“It won’t come to that.”
“Promise me.”
Clenching his jaw, he said roughly, “You have my word.”
Eyes shining with relief and gratitude, Alana nodded. “Thank you.”
“Under one condition.”
“You already promised.”
“These are my terms. Take it or leave it.”
She sighed. Cristian was an irritatingly tenacious man and if he wanted the information, she would have no choice but to give it to him. As much as she didn’t want to admit what she’d done. “Fine. What’s your condition?”
“You tell me what agreement you had with Ross.”
Alana shook her head, sinking into her seat. “Don’t make me do that,” she whispered. They were her secrets, her burdens. She didn’t want to share them. No one knew besides her and Gavin, and she wanted to keep it that way. Her father would never know the shame she’d brought on him when she became Gavin’s personal murderer. But she did, and she didn’t want to share that failure.
“I won’t for now, but you will tell me.”
Weary, she turned to look out the window. He would make her tell him, just as she would make him tell her his secrets. She didn’t look forward to it.
Gavin had changed the rules by kidnapping her and killing her family. She knew even without Cristian telling her that Gavin massacred them. It was how he operated. She’d once trusted the lying, cheating, snake. That trust had gotten her father killed. Her family murdered.
She was a fool.
Leaning her head against the window, she closed her eyes. Fatigue, deeper than her weary soul, pulled at her.
Rubbing the ache in her chest, Alana wished for something to take it away. And in the darkness of the truck, someone did. Cristian covered her hand where it dug into the seat, his fingers lacing through hers, offering strength where she had none.
She held on tight, squeezing his hand, as a tear slipped down her cheek. For that moment, she didn’t feel so alone.
Chapter 18
Alana groaned at the crick in her neck. Rubbing it, she sat up and looked around at the shabby, paint-chipped building they were parked in front of. A gas station. Cristian was nowhere in sight, but Mercer leaned against the hood, staring into the night. Pensive.
She set her seat upright and watched Cristian stride out of the station, a paper sack in hand. He walked with long, sensual strides. The contained violence simmering just beneath his surface made her belly tighten. That darkly sexual part of Cristian drew her to him. Who was she fooling? More than that drew her to him. Like the fact he’d held her hand. Somehow he’d known what she needed. And that she couldn’t ask for it.
Disturbed he could read her so easily, Alana rubbed her forehead. What a mess. Her feelings for Cristian were growing at an alarming rate. Could be Stockholm Syndrome. Even though she wasn’t a prisoner, it felt like it. A ridiculous notion anyway. She had been attracted to Cristian since the first day she’d met him, bruised and battered, in need of her help, although too stubborn to admit it. The man was frustratingly obstinate, but the trait didn’t put her off like it should.
With a headache chipping away at her temples, she watched Cristian stop and speak to Mercer, who looked at the road behind them and nodded before pushing off the truck.
“Is something wrong?” Alana asked when Cristian slid behind the wheel and set the bag on the floor between them.
Mercer climbed in the backseat and closed the door.
Cristian started the engine and maneuvered onto the road before he answered. “No.”
“Then why do you keep checking the rearview mirror?”
“There’s water and snacks in the bag if you want them.”
“Nice evasion.” She reached into the bag for a bottle of water.
“I’ll have those donuts if no one wants them.”
Alana glanced at Cristian, who shook his head, before reaching into the bag and pulling out a package of powdered donuts. There was also a bag of chips and peanut M andM’s.
“Is junk food all you got?” she chided, handing the donuts over the seat to Mercer.
“All they had.”
“Nothing wrong with a little junk food, Doc.” Mercer tore open the package.
“Just tons of sugar and carbs.” She twisted the cap off her water bottle and took a drink.
Mercer handed a donut over the seat. “Come on, Doc, have one.”
A moment later, she accepted and took a bite. After years in the jungle living on mostly what they could grow, the sweet treat tasted like heaven. The sugar went immediately to her system and made her light-headed.
“See? It’s good,” Mercer said, polishing off the rest.
Alana licked sugar off her fingers and lips, feeling euphoric and nostalgic. Glancing at Cristian, she froze midway to her mouth. The way he watched her made her very aware of her actions. Her body responded. What she wouldn’t give to be alone with him right now.
Swallowing hard, she tucked her hands into her lap, searching for a distraction. “Are we driving through the night?”
“Yes,” Cristian said, jaw tight.
She stole a glance at his rigid jaw, getting a piece of satisfaction in knowing he wanted her as much as she did him. He was like a drug she couldn’t get enough of. She hoped they were getting a hotel room. Intensity rolled off him in waves and she wanted to direct it toward her. All night long.
“Can I use your cellphone?”
“Why?”
“I want to call Sam and check on Caleb.”
“It’s midnight. They’re in bed.”
In bed. She wanted to be in bed. With him. The gruff way he said it told her he was thinking the same thing.
This addiction had to stop. When this was over, where would she be? Cristian wouldn’t stick around. He owed her nothing. They had great sex. He could get that anywhere. And he would. Cristian wasn’t the commitment type. He would leave her, and she would be left with no one. Nothing.
But would she be able to let him go? Not if she didn’t stop the feelings building inside her, the scariest part of all.
Mercer and Cristian took turns driving until they reached Chicago. It had been so long since she’d seen a city, she could only stare out the window and remember living in Boston. Instead of being a comfort, it made her feel even more alone and alienated. Like a stranger in a world she once belonged to.
The setting sun cast a soft glow over the city. Familiar, yet it made her feel incredibly vulnerable. Especially for a woman used to being in control.
Cristian took an exit ramp toward the lake and Alana rolled her window down to feel the warm breeze on her face. The fresh, clean scent of the lake filled her senses. Not salty like the ocean, but refreshing all the same. They drove along the lakeside past upscale houses and condos. They turned into a private parking lot of a tall, sleek apartment building.
“This is it?” she asked, needing to stretch her legs and anxious to be out of the truck.
“This is it,” Cristian confirmed, pulling into a parking space.
She climbed out, closed her door and stared up at the tall building. It looked stark and foreboding, kind of like the man.
“Alana, come on.”
Cristian and Mercer waited for her, bags slung over their shoulders. She had no bags. Saddened, she followed them inside. The man behin
d the desk greeted them with a tiny, impersonal smile.
“Mr. Kipling,” the receptionist greeted Cristian. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
Kipling. Another alias. Cristian spoke quietly to the man before leading them to a private elevator.
Alana stood between both men as the car lifted smoothly to the top floor. Not sure what to expect when the doors opened, she felt elation and anxiety. She was about to see Cristian’s home. Well, one of them.
When the doors slid open, Alana walked into the most sensual, exotic apartment she’d ever been in. Dark and sleek, with muted grays and blacks everywhere she looked. A seductive cloud surrounded her, the scent of sandalwood filling her senses.
Swallowing hard, she walked farther into the room, her borrowed boots making little sound on the glossy marble floor. What had she expected? Certainly not this. Maybe something more utilitarian, like the man. Not this luxurious penthouse with marble and granite and mystifying paintings hanging on the walls.
Someone had gone to great lengths to decorate, handpicking each piece of furniture, every painting and artisan table. That person had arcane tastes. An eye for the unusual. And she absolutely loved it. Wanted to lose herself in the mysterious paintings and sprawl on the slate colored chaise lounge sitting in front of the tiled fireplace.
Looking down at her borrowed clothes, she felt very out of place in jeans and button-up shirt. A long, flowing gown from the Cleopatra era would be more fitting.
Once upon a time, she had owned a closet full of beautiful gowns. But she wasn’t that woman any longer.
Cristian punched a code into the state-of-the-art security system. “The kitchen should be fully stocked, the sheets fresh. Mercer, you’re in the east corner bedroom. Alana, you can have the master suite.”
Mercer slung his bag over a broad shoulder. “Nice pad. You gonna update Gallagher?”
“I’ll make the call.”
Mercer nodded. “My room have a television?”
“Yes. And its own bathroom.”
“You know where to find me.” He strode toward the bedroom to the right.
“Where will you sleep?” she asked once Mercer disappeared into his room.
“On the sofa.”
Hard Core (Onyx Group) Page 19