by Rachel Grant
“I’ll go to another prove-up. One no one knows about.”
“You’d be isolated. Alone. Anything could happen, and I couldn’t be there to help you. You’ll be safe in my quarters. With me. Tomorrow we’ll figure something else out.”
She held his gaze, her eyes were so bleak, so tired, it broke him a little bit. Finally, she nodded.
The door slid open, and he stepped into the corridor.
“I can walk,” Isabel said, and she wiggled to indicate he should set her down.
“Why walk when I can carry you? I owe you for dragging me through the woods.”
“If you think carrying me through a building with elevators and smooth, level floors makes up for my dragging your heavy, ungrateful carcass across miles of woods…”
“One mile of woods.”
“It felt like fifteen.”
Like seeing her chest rise and fall when she’d lain on the floor in the elevator, the teasing was a relief. She wouldn’t be Isabel if she didn’t tease him, and he wouldn’t have her any other way.
He carried her into his suite and straight to his bed. The second time he’d deposited her in a bed and wished it were for other reasons.
He nodded to Keith, who pulled out a scanner to sweep the room for listening devices. “Room’s clean of bugs,” Keith said.
Alec called security. “What was up with the elevators?” he asked.
“Near as we can tell, sir, the moment Ms. Dawson stepped inside, all elevators were switched to ‘fire emergency lock’—they were called to the basement and locked with doors open.”
“How did that happen? Someone pulled an alarm?”
“No, sir. If they had, we’d have known the elevators were offline before Ms. Dawson hit the emergency call button. It appears someone hacked our system and had access to the elevator controls.”
Given that Alec and Keith had been in the security room trying to figure out what happened to the camera feed when Johnston collapsed, and that the elevator controls were in the security room, he had to agree. The two men working in security couldn’t have locked down the elevators without him noticing. Could they?
“Upload the video camera feed from the elevator and the basement corridor cameras to the Raptor FTP site.”
“Yes, sir.”
He hung up and dialed Lee Scott, the computer security specialist who’d locked down the system after the major hack in July. He answered immediately. “Lee, there’s been another breach.”
“I was just on the phone with your security team and see it on the shared screen. No doubt it came from inside.”
“Can you fix it?”
“Not from here.”
“How soon can you get to Tamarack?”
“I’ll look up flights. Tomorrow evening, probably.”
Keith tapped him on the shoulder. “Josh and Sean are taking the BD-700. They were supposed to depart in an hour.”
To Lee, Alec said, “The company jet is heading this way. How soon can you get to Dulles?”
“This time of night? Forty-five minutes.”
“Give yourself time to pack, make it ninety. The jet will be waiting.”
Alec hadn’t even hung up with Lee before Keith was on his phone with one of the pilots explaining that they needed to wait for a third passenger.
Calls completed, Alec said to Isabel, “Tell us what happened.”
She sat up in the bed and took a sip of water from a glass Keith handed her, then leaned against the pillows and launched into her story. When she told him about hearing the song she’d been singing in the woods, he swore. “They heard you. They were there the entire time.”
And now they’d used that to torment her.
She nodded, pulling the bedding closer around her as she did so. She finished her nightmare story, and Alec itched to pull her into his arms but didn't think she’d appreciate that in front of Keith. He had to remind himself that she had a reputation for being reserved, even standoffish with others, because she wasn’t that way with him.
She took another sip of water. “I’m feeling better. It seems like it’s wearing off faster than when they attacked my cabin. But then, I also remember everything that happened this time around.”
“Let’s see what the video cameras picked up.” Alec opened the feed on his laptop.
He’d spent good money on new cameras throughout the compound when he took over, and the feed was crystal-clear color. The elevator doors slid open. Several moments later, Isabel stepped out. She left the range of the first camera. Alec paused that video and switched to the corridor recording.
Isabel froze, fear plain on her face.
“I wish we had sound,” Keith said. “Then we could figure out where the music came from by checking which cameras picked up the noise.”
On the screen, Isabel grimaced and staggered to the elevator, and everything played out as she described. After she collapsed, nothing moved for several minutes until Alec and Keith entered from the shadows.
Alec opened the video link for the elevator. It matched the footage from the corridor camera. Isabel staggered inside and hit the buttons. She hit the red emergency button, which set off the alarm, and opened the intercom to Isabel’s scream, alerting Alec in the security room.
He frowned. He’d hoped they have some glimpse of the masked man, but he’d remained in the shadows, away from the cameras.
Keith cleared his throat. “Rav, we need to cancel the training. It’s not safe here. For anyone.”
The words settled in the room, drifting like falling feathers, when they should have landed with the force of a brick. But deep down, Alec had known since he swam down the frigid river this was the inevitable choice.
He wasn’t just going to cancel the training; he needed to close the compound. “Looks like you’re getting your way after all, Isabel.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Isabel dreamed about Vin. She hated waking from those dreams, the abrupt return to a world in which he was gone, after she’d had moments of joy at seeing him again, of believing that the last year had been the nightmare, and the dream was real.
Now here she was again, post-dream, and depressed. No. Not depressed—at least, not this time. Tonight, she was pissed. Vin was gone, and the people who had stolen him from this world were messing with her. They’d hurt her, repeatedly.
They’d terrified her and made her feel helpless, exposed. Vulnerable. All the things she’d felt when she was fourteen and lost her parents. But then her big brother had changed the entire direction of his life to prevent her from going into foster care.
She was mad as hell now.
She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. One a.m. She was alone in Alec’s bed; he slept on the couch in the sitting room—guarding her even in his sleep while the compound was still full of mercenaries who couldn’t be trusted.
She sat up in bed, pulling her knees to her chest. She was wide-awake, riled, and a man she was intensely attracted to slept mere feet away. Would Alec be willing to engage in a bout of angry sex to break the tension coiled in her body?
Not that she was angry with Alec. Her rage was reserved for Vin’s killers.
It infuriated her that she was now afraid of the basement. And the elevator. And Pirates of Penzance.
Masks were also on her shit list.
She opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out the box of condoms.
Angry sex could be just the thing to calm her down. Then she could sleep again.
She threw back the covers. It was her move. Alec had insisted upon it. Anger was just the excuse she needed to squelch the guilt that was holding her back.
She eased open the door and crept into the sitting room, moving slowly so she wouldn’t wake him if she changed her mind at the last second.
She rounded the foot of the couch and stopped short at what she saw. Her cat, Gandalf, was curled in a ball and sleeping on Alec’s chest.
“Please tell me you’re here to take this damned cat off
me so I can sleep.” Alec’s voice was a whisper in the quiet room, and she smiled, realizing he was trying not to wake said damned cat.
The angry haze that had driven her here faded as she took in the scene before her. Her cat. Asleep on the most gorgeous naked chest she’d ever seen.
She was a little jealous of Gandalf.
“Sorry, no. I came out to ask for angry sex. I didn’t realize Gandalf was here.”
“I sent two men from security to pick him up. I figured after what you’d been through, you needed him. You were asleep by the time they delivered him, and I didn’t want to wake you.” He grimaced. “He’s spent the last two hours kneading me and walking across me like I’m his personal sidewalk. He finally went to sleep about a half hour ago.”
She couldn’t help but grin. Alec lay pinned on the couch, clearly uncomfortable. Gandalf looked light and fluffy, but he was heavier than he appeared under all that fur, and he slept on Alec’s heart as if he owned it. “He’s a pest when you’re trying to sleep. I never let him in my bedroom at night.”
“Thanks for the warning,” he said dryly. He held her gaze in the darkened room. LED lights on various electronic devices provided just enough illumination. “What was that thing you said about angry sex?”
She set the condoms on the coffee table and scooped Gandalf from Alec’s chest. “Forget I said anything.” Gandalf made a disgruntled sound at being woken; then he must have smelled her, because he settled down and purred.
Alec took a deep breath—probably his first since Gandalf used him as a mattress—and sat up. “I don’t think I will.” He shifted his legs to the floor. “Why angry sex? Why not just sex?”
She dropped onto the end of the couch where his legs had been and settled Gandalf on her lap. “Because I’m mad. I dreamed about Vin again and woke up pissed. I’m so mad at everything that’s happened. I’m afraid of the basement now.” Her voice rose as the anger came flooding back, causing Gandalf to tense. “And elevators! I feel like a piece of my security and sanity has been stolen from me, on top of having my brother taken. I just want to punch someone.”
Alec slowly rose from the couch and paused in front of her, looming in the dark room. “Here’s the deal, Iz. We’re taking the elevator to the basement so you can shoot the shit out of some targets and get rid of some of that rage.”
He extended a hand toward her.
She hesitated but then set Gandalf aside and took his hand. He pulled her to her feet, bringing them so close she had to lean back to meet his gaze. He steadied her with an arm around her waist as he studied her face. His mouth slowly curved in a carnal smile that triggered a flutter in her belly.
“And then”—his voice deepened to a low rumble—“if you’re still feeling afraid, I’m going to strip you down and fuck the fear right out of you.”
He couldn’t be serious. Isabel stepped into the elevator, thinking about Alec’s words, an effective block to what had happened in this box hours ago.
Yeah. He must’ve been kidding. A distraction.
It worked.
He stood silent at her side. Scruffy, tired, tousled, and frigging gorgeous. His T-shirt hugged his muscles as if it were painted on. She was in the same elevator that was part of one of the scariest moments of her life, and all she could think of was unbuttoning his jeans and going down on him.
She’d never had elevator sex before.
He was strong enough to lift her, pin her in the corner, and…
The doors opened. They’d arrived in the basement. The scariest place in her mind.
Alec merely grinned and raised an eyebrow.
He probably knew exactly what she was thinking. She nodded for him to lead the way, wondering all the while if he’d brought condoms. The box hadn’t been on the coffee table after she got dressed.
Motion sensors caused lights to flare as they crossed the vast, disorienting space. Nothing moved in the shadows beyond the light.
The compound was quiet.
But then, it was half past one in the morning.
Inside the firing range, Alec locked the door behind them and then punched numbers into the gun safe keypad. The buzzer sounded, reminding her of the cameras that watched this room, even now.
Yeah, he must’ve been kidding. He wouldn’t touch her in here, not with the cameras rolling. Disappointment filtered through her. They should have stayed in his suite.
He pressed at least a dozen more buttons on the keypad, then turned to her. “Punch in the same code I gave you for my quarters.”
She brushed against him as she reached for the keypad. Instead of moving back to give her space, he leaned a titch closer. She glanced askance and caught a wicked, sexy grin. White teeth surrounded by dark stubble. He hadn’t shaved since yesterday, and his square jaw was heavy with the beginning of a dark beard. He wasn’t the polished politician anymore. She was fairly certain this man was the Ranger, and she found the Ranger a decided turn-on. Somehow she managed to remember and punch in the access code. Barely.
Only one panel of the gun locker opened. Inside was an array of small pistols and racks of ammunition. “That code gives you access to the range and these weapons.”
“What, no fifty-caliber sniper rifles for me?” The bigger guns were in the other half of the gun locker.
“Hell, no. Those things have a nasty kick.” He leaned in close and said in a husky voice, “The cameras are off.”
“You didn’t.”
“Lee set up a special override code that only I have. I can turn off the cameras in any room in the compound.”
“Is that really safe? To shut off the cameras?”
“This room has been on lockdown since I decided to shut down the compound. Only Keith, you, and I have the access code.”
“What if the power goes out? Don’t all the rooms unlock?”
“Most do. But not this one. It can be unlocked manually from the inside, to prevent anyone from being trapped, but otherwise, it would take a battering ram to get in here.”
She glanced at the thick steel door and guessed that even a battering ram wouldn’t be enough. Heat flared in her belly. Maybe he did intend to screw her brains out here and now.
He grabbed the Sig she’d used during her lesson with Ethan and a box of ammo. “Put on headphones. If you hit the bull three times in a row with this, it’s yours.”
Okay. Maybe they really were here just to shoot. “You’ll give me the gun?”
“Yes.”
“All I have to do is hit the bull three times?” Hell, she’d hit the bull’s-eye a dozen times earlier. This would be a piece of cake.
“In a row.”
She cocked her head. “You have to do it too.”
“It’s already my gun. My compound.” His gaze scanned her from head to toe. “Everything in it is mine.” Clearly, his self-imposed restraint toward her was gone.
Restraintless-Alec was even hotter than his previous incarnation—and she’d found him pretty damn hot before.
“Humor me,” she said in the best challenging tone she could muster.
“Fine.” He pulled on a pair of headphones, rammed the magazine into the handle, and one breath later squeezed off three shots in rapid succession. He slapped the button to recall the target, and the human outline on paper floated toward them, a ghost on a wire pulley. When the target reached the counter, Isabel saw three overlapping holes in the red center circle over the chest.
“Your turn,” he said as he reset the target. The paper retracted down the lane but stopped at half the distance. “Twenty-five yards.”
Her first shot was good. But the second went high, and the third went low. He stood behind her and coached her on her grip. With a hand on her hip and another under her elbow, he adjusted her stance. She took another shot. Dead center.
She grinned.
Lips touched the back of her neck, and through the headphones, she heard him say, “God, that’s a turn-on.”
Feeling pumped, she took another shot.
It went high. Off-the-target high. He chuckled.
She set the gun on the counter and faced him. Crossing her arms over her chest, she nodded to the lane next to her. “You’re distracting me on purpose. Go shoot in your own lane.”
He grabbed her hips and pulled her against him. His tongue traced the hollow beneath her throat. His lips trailed upward, nuzzling the sensitive skin below her ear. “How about we play a game that’s a lot like strip poker, but with shooting?”
She laughed. “Since you’re obviously an ace marksman, there is no way I could win.”
“Honey, when I get you naked, you’ll feel like the winner.”
She rolled her eyes and pushed him away. “Leave me alone. I’m trying to shoot.”
He dropped a soft kiss on her lips. “Fine.”
Her body hummed with pleasure as she emptied the magazine into the paper man. Every time she hit within the inner circles, she felt a jolt of adrenaline and a kick in the libido.
Next to her, Alec’s target had disintegrated under rapid fire.
She paused to watch, her heart rate increasing as she took in his firm profile as he gazed down the sights. The intensity of his stare as he focused on the target, well, if he wasn’t trying to kill it, she’d be jealous of the poor line drawing.
Watching him shoot was an aphrodisiac.
What was she thinking? Why was she wasting her time shooting at paper when she could be in bed with this man?
She carefully set her gun aside and moved to stand behind him. She cupped his butt with one hand and supported his elbow with the other. “You need to stand up straighter,” she said, giving his perfect ass a solid squeeze. “And lift your elbow.”
He chuckled and did as she said. The shot went high. His first shot that didn’t even hit the target, let alone the inner circles.
“That’s more like it,” she said, tracing a line along his arm, over his pecs, down the T-shirt, finally, finding the hem, she slid her hand up, underneath, and explored those rock-hard abs.
He set down the gun and twisted so fast her hand that had been exploring his abs now rested on his back, and the hand on his ass met his erection. His lips were on hers in a flash, his tongue thrust into her mouth in a deep, erotic kiss that made no secret of exactly where this would go.