by Donna Grant
Owen made a round of the house, his mind occupied with all things Natalie. He’d run the range of emotions tonight from desire, jealousy, fury, fear, and astonishment to admiration. Then again, Natalie always had a way of affecting him in such a way.
She had no idea how remarkable she was in everything she did. She had a spine of steel that had her standing up for whatever she thought was right.
When Owen glanced at the barn, he was surprised at how quiet everything was. Then he listened. There wasn’t a sound—not even the wind blowing.
He had no comm to check in with the men Callie had sent. He briefly thought of heading to the base. Then he looked at the house.
Natalie.
Every instinct yelled at him to get her to the base immediately.
His blood ran cold. He kept low and ran to the truck to get a weapon. His heart thumped painfully in his chest as he ripped off his suit jacket.
He crawled toward the house, listening for anything out of the ordinary. He should’ve noticed the quiet when they’d arrived, instead of being too preoccupied with Natalie. That could very well get her killed.
He was nearly to the porch when he saw a light go on upstairs. Then he saw a dark figure move within the house. A moment later, the room lit up with the flash of semi-automatic rounds and bullets spraying the air.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Natalie’s feet were like ice. She rushed upstairs and found a pair of fuzzy socks in Callie’s drawer. After tugging them on, she stood, getting ready to head down to the kitchen when something stopped her.
She paused, listening. There wasn’t a sound within the house. Not a squeak of the floorboards or the squeal of the screen door. So why did she feel like she wasn’t alone?
Natalie looked out the window. All seemed normal at the barn. Owen wasn’t rushing toward the house. There was no gunfire. No shouts.
She sighed and mentally shook her head. After the evening she’d endured, it was no wonder she imagined things that weren’t there.
With a laugh at herself, she turned toward the door when she caught a glimpse of the barrel of a gun. Without thinking, she dove to the floor by the time the gunman opened fire.
Bullets sprayed the room. She covered her head with her arms, squeezing her eyes closed. Something whizzed past her head, moving her hair. A bullet.
That’s how close it came to hitting her. She was deafened by the sound of the gunfire. Somehow, she managed to make it to the bed and get beneath it.
It offered a measure of protection, but that didn’t last long. The gunman must’ve seen her, because the next thing she knew, bullets were hitting the mattress—and going through it.
Natalie quickly rolled from underneath the bed toward the window. There was no place for her to hide, nowhere for her to get to safety. It was only a matter of time before the shooter hit her.
She glanced at the gunman to find his gaze trained on her, a smile of pleasure on his face. Small white feathers drifted in the air from the pillows.
A spray of bullets came toward her. Natalie tried to get back under the bed so she could roll to the other side to run out of the room. Her socks kept slipping on the wood. Her tight dress hindered her movements.
It felt like ages before she was able to get back under the bed, but she didn’t stop. Thankfully, the gunman walked to where she’d been in order to shoot her.
She saw the door—and freedom. She had one chance. When she stood, the shooter would have the perfect time to open fire, but for her to remain in the room was certain death.
There was only one option.
Owen.
She hoped that wherever he was, he was safe. If there was one killer at the ranch, there was more. Owen’s instincts had been right. The Russians were attacking.
Natalie took a deep breath and held it as she scooted from beneath the bed and jumped to her feet. She slipped as soon as her socks hit the bare floor.
She grabbed the door to keep herself upright, and a bullet slammed into where her head had been a second before. Natalie didn’t look back. She ran out of the room.
And straight into arms she knew well.
Owen didn’t say a word. He put a pistol in her hand and moved her behind him. She’d seen many of his faces. Earlier, she thought she’d seen his rage with the men in the elevator, but that was nothing compared to the violence she saw in his eyes now, the ferocity that hardened his face.
She backed away as he moved toward the bedroom. Natalie screamed when a bullet splintered the doorjamb near Owen’s face, but he didn’t so much as flinch.
The gunman ran out of bullets and rushed Owen. She watched as they battled each other with fists, feet, and even teeth. It was a brutal fight with Owen holding nothing back.
The beast had been unleashed.
And she was mesmerized.
A creak sounded behind her. She turned and spotted another man running up the stairs, gun raised and pointed at Owen. Natalie didn’t hesitate in pulling the trigger, putting two bullets into his heart.
She watched in slow motion as the man stopped, his eyes going wide while he looked at her. Then he fell backward down the stairs.
A grunt behind her had her whirling around, ready to kill anyone who dared to harm her or those she loved. She found herself staring into chocolate eyes.
“Nat?”
She lowered the gun and walked into Owen’s arms. Outside, she could hear more shooting. It was far from over. The Russians were determined to find the bioweapon and kill whoever stood in their way.
“Follow me,” Owen said.
She fell into step behind him as they made their way down the stairs and out the door. She glanced behind her to see the wreckage the Russians had done to the house. It hurt her heart, and it wasn’t even her home. She couldn’t imagine how Owen felt.
She plastered herself against the side of the house and squatted down so Owen could look around the corner. He fired two quick shots. Then, with his gun still up, he moved to the truck.
She kept watch behind them. He moved them closer and closer to the barn where horses were screaming from the sound of the guns.
There was a gargled scream as one of the attackers fell dead from the roof of the barn.
“About time the snipers joined the fun,” Owen murmured.
Two more of the Russians approached the barn.
“Dammit,” Owen murmured when he noticed them.
In the next second, the men fell dead from gunshots coming from differing directions.
Owen motioned her to follow him. They ran to the barn, and she expected to feel a bullet hit her any minute. Owen was opening the trap door for her to get below when another of the attackers came at them from behind.
She turned the same time as Owen, their guns lifting, but the enemy was already firing. From behind them came a shot, killing the gunman. Natalie turned and found a man in all black.
He gave her a nod. “Get—”
The sentence was never finished as one of the Russians jumped from the hayloft and plunged a knife into the soldier’s chest. Natalie was quickly knocked to the ground by Owen.
Owen leapt to his feet, and with one shot, took out their would-be killer. Natalie stared at the dead body of the man who had saved them sprawled just a few feet from her. His eyes were open, staring out the open doors of the barn, but they were empty, completely devoid of life.
Owen then did a thorough search of the barn. She felt sick. So much death that night, and for what? A weapon that could possibly wipe out the world? What was wrong with people?
The barn began to spin, the lights inside blinding her. She closed her eyes and tried to find balance. It was the sound of Owen’s voice that caught her attention.
“Nat? Look at me.”
She blinked up at him. “Is it over?
“Yes, sweetheart. It’s over.”
For now, went unsaid.
“We’ll take him home,” said a voice Natalie didn’t recognize.
She loo
ked up to see five men surrounding them. They were in solid black with all the tactical gear she was used to seeing Owen and his brothers in. So these were the men Callie had spoken of.
“I’m Tony,” the one closest to them said to Owen. “Orrin is our friend. If you need anything, Callie knows how to reach us.”
“Thanks,” Owen said.
“Me and the boys can make sure to keep an eye on the place anytime you need us.”
Owen nodded.
“We all respect Orrin. Get him back for all of us.” Tony clenched his jaw.
“We will,” Owen promised.
Natalie accepted his help up. She no longer wanted coffee. She wanted a stiff drink. Or three.
When Owen turned toward her, she spotted the blood on his white shirt. Her heart dropped to her feet. He couldn’t be hurt. Not Owen. “You’re injured.”
He touched his chest and looked at his body. “It’s not my blood. It’s … yours.”
She frowned as he stared at her. “What?”
The next thing she knew, he lifted her in his arms and rushed her down to the base. The door slid closed, sealing them in again.
Once more safe.
He gently sat her down on the bed. Then he squatted before her and took her hands in his. He smiled at her. “It’s over, sweetheart. The Russians are gone.”
“They’ll be back.” She was suddenly very tired. She closed her eyes, wanting sleep.
“Not tonight they won’t.”
Why did his voice sound so far away? And what was that racket? He was mumbling to himself angrily. Natalie curled on her side.
“Natalie, honey. Look at me. Open your eyes and look at me.”
It took a great amount of effort for her to do as he asked. When she did, there were lines of worry around his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“You’ve been shot.”
Shot? What was he talking about?
Something touched her arm then, and she hissed in pain, trying to jerk away from him. Now wide-awake, her heartbeat doubled.
“It was a clean shot, went straight through the flesh,” he said.
“It hurts,” she said through clenched teeth. How was she just now feeling it?
“I know, baby. I’m getting to that.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Briefly, she felt the stick of a needle.
“Morphine,” Owen said.
The pain began to fade almost instantly. She was able to lay still while he finished cleaning the wound. The drug was pulling her under, fast.
She didn’t know how long she slept. When she woke, Owen was there beside her. There was a twinge in her arm, but it was nothing like before.
His hand laced with her good one. “I’m sorry you were alone upstairs. I should’ve been there. I should’ve checked the house.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It is. I know better.”
She knew that stubborn streak. There was no use arguing with him when his mind was made up. “How did the Russians get on the property without being seen?”
“They didn’t. Callie’s men killed ten before they reached the house. It was while they were occupied with the others that those few made it to the main property,” he explained.
She signed. “We found out very little.”
“Actually, we scored a big win. While you slept, I called Wyatt and Callie. They’re going to find the scientist. I also sent Cullen a text that Orrin is in Virginia.”
“But still no formula?”
He shook his head. “If we find the scientist, we won’t need it.”
“What about whoever betrayed Orrin?”
Owen winced. “We’ll deal with that after we find Dad. Until then, Ragnarok will remain here with us. We’re holding down the fort for the others.”
“I like the sound of that.”
The hope in his eyes shone brightly.
No longer could she deny that she loved Owen. She needed to tell him. She bit her lip and swung her legs over the bed. Owen was immediately there to help her sit up.
When the room stopped spinning, she gazed into his eyes. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. Even when I tried to stop, I couldn’t. You’ve always been in my heart, Owen Loughman. I’m sorry for pushing you away.”
“Sweetheart,” he murmured and brought her hands to his lips. “I was a fool for leaving you fourteen years ago. There’s only been one person for me, and that’s you. I love you, Nat. I’d do anything to have you as mine again. I’ll even leave the service.”
Tears gathered and fell as she shook her head. She knew how much serving his country meant to him. The fact that he was willing to give it up for her told her just how deep his love was—if she’d ever doubted it before.
“You can’t quit. You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t serving,” she said.
He stared into her eyes. “Fourteen years ago, I wanted to ask you to be mine. I didn’t listen to my heart, but I am now. Natalie, will you marry me?”
“God, yes.”
Owen held her in his arms, happier than he ever thought possible. When he’d been sent back home, he hadn’t known what to expect, but it sure as hell hadn’t been Natalie.
He might have been furious at one point to learn what his father had been involved in, but now he felt differently. Orrin did what they all did—protect their country the best way they could. Anger over their mother’s death had put a strain on their relationship with their father.
It wasn’t fair to any of them. Orrin had no more been at fault for Melanie’s death than Owen was for the Russians wanting Natalie dead.
He was ashamed that he’d stayed away from the ranch. All those years he could’ve gotten to know the man Orrin was, but that time was gone.
All he could hope for was that they found Orrin alive. Owen had a lot to make up for, with both his father and Natalie, but this was the first time in a long while that he could remember feeling hopeful about the future.
He wasn’t a fool. Going up against the group of Russians could be one of the most dangerous missions he’d ever joined, but it was worth it for his father.
It made him think of his brothers. Cullen would be happy to be a family again. Wyatt was another matter.
Wyatt’s hatred for their father ran deep. So deep that Owen wasn’t sure if Wyatt could ever forgive Orrin. At one point, Owen hadn’t wanted to forgive Orrin, but the woman in his arms had changed his mind.
He understood how being involved in his life put those around him in danger. Natalie hadn’t asked for any of it, but she accepted the hazard. And it had nearly gotten her killed.
That’s when he realized how his father must have felt all those years ago when his wife was brutally taken from him. Owen knew who was responsible for Natalie’s injury—the Russians.
But who was to blame for his mother’s death? For the first time, he looked at it with new eyes. Choking someone to death was personal. They had to get close to Melanie. The person could’ve shot her from yards away and had the same effect. So why the strangulation?
Because they wanted to get to Orrin.
Each of them long suspected Melanie’s death had something to do with one of Orrin’s missions. The fact that the person never touched either him or his brothers told him that Melanie’s death was enough to hurt Orrin.
Owen looked down at Natalie and smoothed her hair back from her face as she smiled at him.
“I finally have you,” Natalie said.
He held her tighter. “You’ve always had me, darlin’.”
She threaded her fingers with his and gazed up at him with so much love that it took his breath away.
No one would ever hurt her again. She knew how to shoot, and she would learn hand-to-hand combat as well because he wanted her prepared.
Because she was his.
“I love you.”
She smiled. “I love you.”
With those three little words, his world was righted once more.
EPILOGUE
The
shrill sound of the phone caused Natalie to jump in her seat before the computer. She looked up as Owen strolled toward her from his father’s office, his cell phone in hand.
“It’s Callie.”
Natalie nodded to the phone. “Answer it.”
He put it on speaker and said, “Hey, Cal.”
“Is Natalie there?”
She frowned and slid off the stool at the sound of distress in Callie’s voice. “I’m right here.”
“You’re not going to like this, Owen,” Wyatt’s voice came over the line.
Natalie exchanged a look with Owen. Even though they’d won against the group attacking them again, she knew this was only one of many skirmishes. Ragnarok was still in their possession—and still safe.
For the time being.
But the danger was increasing with each day. Natalie understood that, and she understood her part in all of it.
“Tell us,” Owen prompted.
Callie blew out a breath. “I was finally able to do some searching on the Saints. Guys, this is bad. Very bad. They’re a shadow organization.”
“Owen,” Wyatt said, his voice pitched low in worry. “We can’t find the head of this group. The Saints seem to be a part of every elite position within Russia.”
Natalie sat back down on the stool. She was no stranger to secret organizations, having heard enough about them in college. Nearly everyone had heard of the Illuminati or the New World Order.
Most people disregarded all of it as conspiracy theories that didn’t have a grain of truth. But there was always truth to them.
“We think,” Callie hurried to say. “There isn’t much on this group. They’re very secretive. Many of the blogs or articles I read were quick to dismiss the Saints as hearsay or made up.”
“But you don’t?” Owen asked.
Callie hesitated for a heartbeat. “I don’t. There are too many instances of power shifts within Russia that mimic someone masterminding the entire affair. I could list everything, but it’s too long.”
“One instance could be overlooked,” Wyatt said. “A couple could be a coincidence. But when looked at as a whole, there’s no doubt.”
“So it isn’t Egor Dvorak controlling the Russians here,” Natalie said. “It’s the Saints.”