by Lori Foster
Tiring of the game, Tesh took the briefcase and rifled through it. He found papers he didn’t care about, files and an itinerary that didn’t pertain to him but perhaps would be useful later. He folded them, put them in his pocket...and then he found a smaller pocket with keys and keycards.
“Ah. This is what we needed.” The keycards would get him on the elevator, and the actual key would be used to—
“No,” Enoch said, making a grab for it.
Miller hauled him back with a hand in his hair, then landed a harsh blow to his soft gut.
“So this is the one, eh? Good to know.” Tesh thought of those darkened windows on the upper floors and guessed he’d find Cat there. Not that he’d risk going after her himself.
He wasn’t stupid.
“I’ll stay with our friend,” he told Miller and Johnson. “I need you to take the guard at the elevator.”
“Sure,” Johnson said right away. “Piece of cake.”
“He’s armed,” Enoch warned in a rush, the words slurred by his swollen lips. “He’ll shoot before he lets you overpower him.”
“Maybe,” Tesh mused. “But not if he thinks he has to save you. Perhaps a deadly car accident? With this ice, it’s more than possible.” The plan formed in his mind, entirely plausible. “Take the briefcase. Hold it so the guard can see it. Explain that there’s been an accident and a man is hurt.”
Enoch shook his head. More to convince himself than them, he said, “It won’t work. He won’t leave his post.”
That he was so worried about it only reinforced for Tesh that he was on the right track. “Go quickly,” he told his men. “Before anyone else shows up. Check the top two floors. And if you find Cat, bring her to me.”
“What if we run into anyone else?”
Tesh smiled at Miller. “Kill them.” Anyone who stood between him and his kitten definitely needed to go.
* * *
CAT INSISTED ON doing the dishes while Leese showered. It seemed fair since he’d cooked, but she had to leave everything perfect. If she left a single crumb behind, he’d find it. He wouldn’t say anything, but he would definitely clean behind her.
She understood him better now and assumed his upbringing had helped to forge him into such a neat freak. He hadn’t said it, but she got the impression his folks hadn’t taken much pride in anything, not better employment, not better clothes for their son and likely not in their home either.
He’d been in her house, so he knew she didn’t share his affinity for organization. Not that she was a slob; she did like things neat and orderly. But Leese took it to a whole new level.
Not a terrible trait at all.
Besides, tidying the kitchen after their breakfast gave her some much-needed alone time, allowing her to drop the bubbly facade.
Loving Leese was bittersweet, both the easiest and the hardest thing she’d ever done.
It was past time she confessed everything. Continuing the lie was no longer an option now that she cared so much for him.
It felt like a massive betrayal.
Yet telling him the truth could put him at added risk.
Bracing her hands on the counter, Cat dropped her head forward and fought off the desolation.
There had to be a way to handle things on her own, but no matter how she considered all the angles, it remained impossible.
She pushed away from the sink and hugged her arms around her middle.
Leaving, walking away without a word, wouldn’t guarantee Leese’s safety—especially since she had the distinct feeling he’d come after her.
Staying would be worse, because once he knew, Leese would insist on confronting the trouble instead of running from it.
Unfortunately, it was a fight he couldn’t win.
And she’d just brought herself full circle.
Honesty now was her only option. Maybe, though, she should try confessing to Sahara first. That indomitable woman might find an alternative that eluded Cat.
Knowing Enoch would be back any minute with the pastries, she decided to hurry Leese along. She wanted him to see the kitchen all spiffed up before she got it messy with crumbs.
She started down the hall and a noise at the door made her pause.
Not the intercom, and not a knock. Curious, she looked toward the door, listening.
The doorknob moved.
Instincts rioted but, undecided, she took one step toward the door. It was probably Enoch, probably fine.
She was still safe.
No.
No, she wouldn’t take that chance. Not with Leese in the shower, naked, unprepared...
With fear steadily building, she back-stepped, one foot behind the other, until the door started to open. Alarm bells clanged in her brain and, breathless, she turned to run silently for the bedroom. Her sock-covered feet didn’t make a sound, and she didn’t call out.
Timing was everything, she knew that.
She needed a weapon, and she needed to alert Leese.
Slipping into the bedroom and slowly closing the door, trying to lock it without the ridiculously loud click, she secured them the best she could. Next she dived for the nightstand and her gun.
Thank God she kept it fully loaded.
In a few long strides, she opened the bathroom door, strode to the shower and turned off the water.
Leese took one look at her face, then at the gun she held, and without a sound he comprehended it all. Wasting no time, he stepped out of the shower. Bypassing the towel, he grabbed her arm and drew her back into the bedroom, pushing her down beside the bed to keep her concealed. As hushed whispers came down the hall, he snatched his own gun off the nightstand, but also his cell.
Sliding his thumb across the screen, he unlocked it, pressed a button and handed it to her. With a finger to his mouth, he warned her to silence.
Cat saw that the phone was dialing, but who? The building was all but empty. Even Enoch was off buying treats.
Crouched there on the floor, her heart in her throat, Cat set the phone aside and braced her gun over the bed.
She was as ready as she could be, but the dreaded moment—a moment she’d prepared for the best she could—rattled her even more than she’d ever expected.
When Leese shifted, her gaze went to him. Naked, water trickling down his powerful body, he seemed rock-steady, determined to defend her against unknown threats.
Dear God, have I waited too long to tell him everything?
Giving her a silent order, he pressed down on her head, wanting her to stay entirely hidden, then he moved around the bed and silently positioned himself behind the door. Unlike her, he held the gun only in his right hand, lowered to his side with the barrel aimed at the floor.
He didn’t look at her again, but she couldn’t pull her gaze from him.
Hurting in her heart, Cat prayed they’d make it through this.
Someone tried the doorknob, and when it didn’t open, a laugh sounded.
“You can lock the door, girl, but we’re coming in anyway.”
Both she and Leese stayed silent, her shaking with fear, him loose and prepared as the door exploded, kicked open with a lot of force.
Cat got one look at a big man, grinning with sick delight as he stepped into the room...
Then with double the force, Leese kicked the door back into his face. Blood spurted from his crushed nose, and the man staggered until he hit the hallway wall hard and slumped to the floor.
Barking a foul curse, a second man lifted his gun. Leese caught his wrist quickly, and keeping the man’s gun aimed at the ceiling, jerked him into the room and against the door to close it. The guy fired off several shots before Leese snapped his wrist and the gun fell.
The noise was deafening—gunshots, shouts of pain, the c
racking of bone.
Leese didn’t stop with mangling the man’s arm. He punched him hard in the throat, kneed him in the groin, then kicked his knee. The man’s leg buckled backward and he went down, his face blue, his eyes bulging, his body distorted.
No longer a threat.
The gruesome damage made Cat’s stomach pitch. So much violence, happening so quickly and effortlessly on Leese’s part. She couldn’t think, could barely breathe past the noise and motion and the fear, so much thick, consuming fear.
Her heart punched frantically with the need to somehow help, but at the same time, she saw him handling things with frightening efficiency.
He’d completely disabled the first man without firing a single shot—but not in enough time to completely protect himself.
The man with the smashed nose dived back into the room, already firing his gun before he’d landed. The shot hit Leese in the side, knocking him back, and Cat watched in horror as blood splattered on the wall, bloomed from the wound and snaked down his side.
The cry of outrage strangled in her throat. She didn’t recall standing, didn’t realize that she’d taken aim until she fired.
Not once, not twice, but over and over. Driven by pure reaction, she squeezed the trigger until she ran out of bullets and heard only empty clicks.
“Cat, it’s okay.” Leese’s hand, warm and firm, curled around her wrist. “He’s done. Let up now.”
She stared ahead, seeing the carnage, the motionless bodies of the men who’d attacked. So much blood, so many bullet holes...
“Baby, it’s okay.”
She sucked in air on a sob. “I killed him?”
“No. You shot him in the shoulder and then I took him out. The rest of the bullets hit the wall.”
She took in the scene before her. Bullet holes, all over. Dear God, she was a lousy aim. “I could have hit you!”
“But you didn’t. You helped me.”
Terror receded enough for her to see Leese, really see him—standing tall, hurt but not hindered. With his gun hand, he pressed a T-shirt to his side. With the other he again pushed her to sit, then gently cupped her chin.
“I need you to stay down, babe. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
What? “Wait!”
“Not now, Cat.” With one hard look, he repeated, “Stay down.” The order given, he retrieved something from the nightstand, then went back to the downed men. While constantly searching out the now-broken door, he disarmed them both, tossing multiple weapons onto the bed. He checked each for a pulse, bound their hands and feet together, then glanced back at her and reiterated, “Do. Not. Move.”
Numb, Cat nodded.
He stepped over the men and disappeared into the hall.
Oh my God. Alert, terrified, she listened but couldn’t hear a thing. Thirty seconds aged her like thirty years as she stared at that door, aware of the unmoving men, the smell of gunfire still in the air, the proof of her own incompetence before her.
She badly wanted to trail Leese, but she didn’t want to get in his way. Staying silent, her fingers in a white-knuckled grip on the bedding, she waited in agony until he stepped back in.
The blood now darkened his hip and much of a thigh, making her throat close up in horror.
“I think it’s clear. I relocked the front door. No one else is in the penthouse.” He strode back to her and urged her toward the bathroom. “Stay there.” He retrieved the phone. “Sahara?”
So that’s who he’d called?
Her knees went weak and she sank to the floor.
Leese said, “Shit,” only a second before she heard the new commotion.
Renewed fear didn’t have a chance to take hold before she heard Sahara shout, “Leese? Answer me, damn you!”
Thank God. She put her head on her knees.
“We’re okay,” he called out. “Two men down. Check the building for any others.”
Bleeding, but still issuing orders. God almighty, he was an impressive man.
Cat tried to fill her lungs and retched instead.
“Hey.” Coming to his knees beside her, Leese stroked her head. “You did great, honey.”
She gave a shaky, half-sick laugh.
Justice made it into the room first, Sahara behind him. Their gazes went everywhere, skimmed over the now stirring men, then zeroed in on Leese, naked and bleeding.
“Do I wanna know?” Justice asked.
Sahara just raised a brow.
Grabbing for a towel, Leese explained, “I was showering when they got in.” He wrapped it around himself. “No time to get dressed.”
With a confusing lack of alarm, Justice asked, “You got hit?”
“A flesh wound.” Disgusted, Leese said, “I’ll be fine, but I don’t know about those two. Did you send men to search the rest of the agency? There could be others.”
“She did.” Justice nudged Sahara with an elbow, and almost knocked her off her heels. “I haven’t seen her shook up before, but taking that call from you, she was squealing like a little girl ready to burst into tears and—”
“You’re bleeding a lot,” Sahara interrupted.
That snapped Cat out of her trauma. She looked at Leese’s side, just above his hip bone, and saw the awful damage done to his flesh. The bullet appeared to have torn across him, leaving a three-inch-long furrow, blackened around the edges, constantly oozing blood. Already his skin started to bruise.
“Oh my God, Leese,” she whispered. “You were shot.”
“Grazed,” Leese corrected. He looked at his side and said, “It’s not deep.”
Not deep? “Are you nuts?” Finally having a purpose, Cat grabbed more towels and a wet washcloth, then hurried back to him. Leese tried to take a towel from her, but she didn’t let him. “I need to see—”
Justice stilled her hand. “Let me, okay?”
“Why you?” she snapped, on the ragged edge.
“Well, for starters, I’m not shaking. And I’m used to seeing blood since fighters get hurt all the time. Odds are I’ve had more experience than you.”
Dubious, Cat asked, “With gunshot wounds?”
“Well, no...” Justice eased the cloth away from her and began cleaning the blood. “But I’ve seen broken bones, dislocated joints, head wounds that bled like a mother, split lips and brows, gouged eyes—”
Cat backed up. “Fine. You do it.”
After flashing her a smile, he said to Leese, “Sit down, will you?”
“I don’t want to ruin the bed.”
Cat was about to scream when Sahara said, “The other men will report to me if they find anything. Sit, cooperate. Please.”
Compromising, Leese propped a shoulder against the wall and, watching Justice work, asked Sahara, “How did they get in?”
To Cat’s critical eye, Leese looked merely curious, not in a lot of pain. Then she saw him wince and tears rushed to her eyes.
He could have been killed—and it would have been my fault.
“Troy, the elevator guard on duty this morning, is missing.” Sahara rubbed her forehead and stepped cautiously around the fallen men. “Given the mess here, I’m worried about him.”
Cat put a hand to her heart. Two broken bodies on the floor, a guard missing, Leese shot. What have I done?
“You need stitches,” Justice decided. “Not many, but enough to close it. Looks like the bullet sliced a chunk out of you. Not that deep, though I’m sure it burns like a son of a bitch.”
Leese ignored him to ask, “How many men do you have with you?”
“Just two,” Justice said, “but others on the way.”
“You call the cops yet?”
Sahara leveled a meaningful look on the unconscious intruders. “I wanted to talk to you first, give
n we have many things we’re currently keeping from the cops.”
He nodded.
“When you call them,” Justice said, “have ’em bring an ambulance for nature boy here.” He thwacked Leese on the bare shoulder.
Leese shrugged him off. “Cops, yes, but no ambulance. I can drive myself.”
Sahara’s cell beeped, making Cat jerk. Only Leese seemed to notice as he watched her with concern.
Sahara answered with alacrity, turning her back to them to speak quietly. When her shoulders relaxed, something also loosened in Cat’s chest.
“Troy is okay?” she asked hopefully. Cat didn’t know him, but she couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else being hurt because of her.
As Sahara ended the call, she turned with excitement. “They found him. Knocked in the head, shot in the shoulder and stuffed in a closet, but he’s alive and it appears he’ll recover.” She pointed her phone at Leese. “The ambulance has already been called, so please don’t be difficult. As Justice so rudely pointed out, it’s been a trying morning for me.”
Skipping past all that, Leese frowned. “So they attacked the guard to get on the elevator. That doesn’t explain how they got into the penthouse. The door was locked, I know, because I saw to it myself after Enoch—”
Horror made Cat cry out. She covered her mouth, but only long enough for the pieces to come together. “They had keys. I heard them at the door and at first I thought it might be Enoch, but he always knocks and they didn’t. They unlocked the door and they came right in. Enoch—”
“Enoch,” Sahara repeated, back on her phone.
Everyone waited...while the phone rang and rang, without an answer.
* * *
TESH WATCHED THE commotion at the agency, and knew his men had fucked up. Worthless imbeciles. He hoped they were dead. That would be preferable to them being held, possibly being coerced to talk.
Not that it would do them any good.
When Enoch’s phone rang, Tesh accepted that things had gone very wrong. No doubt it was Sahara or one of her underlings calling to check on Enoch. Any second now they’d begin a search, going to the bakery, looking on the street when they couldn’t find Enoch inside.