His brother jerked his head up and grinned. “Caught him trying to steal a taste of the merchandise.” He waved the gun drunkenly. “That’s against the rules.”
“You’re wasted, Mitch,” Noah growled. “You got something big coming down in a few hours. Go sleep it off before you kill someone else.”
“You mean, like you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Didn’t you ever think about it, Michael? How, if you’d gotten rid of me all those years ago, there’d be no one you had to share with. If there weren’t two of us, you could have it all?”
Noah snorted his disgust. “I never had anything, Mitch. You were jealous of nothing.”
A mischievous smile lifted his brother’s lips. “You almost had Rebecca.”
Determined not to show his fury, Noah kept his hands loose at his sides. Every cell in his body told him to do the deed and get it over with. He couldn’t. Revenge for all the wrong his brother had done him didn’t even register on the scales of justice. Hatred could not get in the way of the real goal.
Noah forced a nonchalant shrug. “You got her first.”
“Yeah, I did, bro. Remember that. I always win.”
Noah examined his brother. Was there something behind his statement other than the drunken bragging of a deranged sociopath? Did he suspect something? No, it had to be his imagination. He hadn’t been followed. … No one saw him leave Samara and they sure as hell hadn’t seen her being picked up.
He was tired, exhausted from his concern for Samara, anxious for this operation to be over. That had to be it. If his brother suspected him at all, he’d be dead by now.
“Whatever you say, Mitch. You’re in charge.” Noah turned back and headed to his cabin.
A gleeful giggle sounded behind him. “You got that right.”
The deluge of water from the hot shower flowed down Samara’s head. Noah’s blood, intermingled with her tears, disappeared down the drain. Small sobs shuddered through her. She took deep breaths, willing herself to calm down. Noah was a professional. He’d put his life on the line innumerable times and would countless more. This would be no different. He would be fine. She had to believe that.
Wincing, she washed over a particularly deep bruise on her upper thigh. She hadn’t looked in the mirror yet. Seeing Noah’s blood matted in her hair and on her clothes wasn’t an image she wanted in her head. The bruises and cuts she could see just by looking down were more than enough to warn her it wouldn’t be pleasant.
Her physical injuries would heal. Her heart though … she had serious doubts.
The water cooled, forcing her out of the shower. Hair sopping wet, she wrapped it in a towel. A rush of gratitude swept through her as she took in all the toiletries sitting on the counter that Eden had provided. Along with a steaming cup of mint tea and sugar cookies.
Perhaps only another woman would understand the importance of having all the feminine, girlie products to pamper her body with. Twisting the cap from the delightful-smelling lotion, she moisturized her entire body. Her sore, abused skin relished the pampering. Luxuries she’d always taken for granted.
Managing to do all of this without looking in the mirror hadn’t been easy. But now the time had come. A deep breath … Samara lifted her eyes and stared at the bruised, battered, and changed woman before her.
She looked no different and yet completely different. A giant bruise colored the left side of her forehead, and another large one was on her cheekbone. A narrow, ugly strip of raw flesh marred her right temple. Mitch’s belt. Her lips were still a little chapped and dry, but other than the discolorations, she looked like the same woman she’d been staring at all her life. Except her eyes. They held a knowledge that hadn’t been there before. She’d seen evil and had experiences she wouldn’t wish on anyone. And she had survived.
A small smile lifted her swollen lips as that realization took on solidity. She had survived.
With that thought, Samara let her eyes roam down the rest of her body, able to see beyond the memory of how each injury got there. Good heavens. No wonder she was so sore. Covered in bruises and welt marks, her body was a colorful array of green, blue, and brown. Interspersed between the bruises and on top of some of them were knife nicks from having her clothes sliced off and cuts from the various times she’d been thrown on the ground. She twisted around and grimaced. Her back, buttocks, and thighs received most of the vicious whipping and would probably take weeks to look normal again. But the important thing was, they would heal.
Abject weakness attacked as reaction and exhaustion took its toll. Instead of drying her hair, she halfheartedly towel dried it. Since looking her best wasn’t really on her list of priorities right now, she left it damp, hanging in curly ringlets. Stifling a jaw-cracking yawn, she pulled on a pair of cotton pajamas Eden had provided and crawled into the soft, clean bed. The lamp on the night table was on, but Samara couldn’t bring herself to turn it off. She was safe here. Not only were Jordan and Eden downstairs, three other LCR operatives were also here. No one was going to breach this safe house and get her. … Still she couldn’t make herself face the darkness.
She closed her eyes and Noah’s beautiful face appeared. He felt something for her. It wasn’t her imagination or a hopeful fantasy. When this was over, she would make sure they had a chance to explore what they had together. She didn’t fool herself. It would be an uphill battle. For some reason, he didn’t believe there was a future for them. He’d reminded her just before they made love that they couldn’t be. She’d just see about that. Stubbornness ran deep in her family. Her father had always said that since Samara was so small, her stubbornness was more concentrated. She hoped that was true because she had a feeling it would take every ounce of her stubbornness to convince Noah.
With one last check of his gun, Noah headed out the door. The truck was due in an hour. Jordan and Eden and ten other LCR operatives were standing by, close to camp. When it pulled up, Noah would fire a shot—the signal for LCR to storm the campground.
Noah hadn’t been able to determine how many men would arrive with the truck. However, Mitch only had five men left here and if he kept killing them, he’d have even less.
The young girls already here were in a small cabin. An LCR operative would handle that cabin, while all others concentrated on Mitchell’s men and saving the girls in the truck.
Noah would concentrate on Mitchell.
He spotted his brother talking to two of his men. Unable to hear what he was saying, he did pick up two words that put him on the highest level of alertness. Brother and bastard. Hand in his pocket, fingers touching his gun, Noah sauntered toward the group. No matter what lay ahead, he had to play this out till the bitter end. From what he could see, it was only Mitch and two men waiting for the delivery. Where was everyone else?
Noah took a cautious survey of the surroundings. Quiet … too quiet. The men standing beside Mitch moved a few steps back as Noah neared. “Where is everybody?”
Black eyes, so like his own, glittered with excitement. Because of the shipment or something else? Mitch’s nonchalant shrug seemed overexaggerated. “Couple of the guys had an errand to run. They’ll be here soon.”
“An errand?” The shipment they’d been waiting on for weeks was coming, and he’d sent his men out on an errand? Something was definitely off.
“Yeah, you never can have too much sugar, you know?”
The roar of a transport truck coming up the drive caught his attention. The oversized vehicle pulled to a stop a few feet from where they stood. Mitchell’s men moved stealthily and placed themselves strategically around Noah, not the truck.
Hand still in his pocket, Noah eased his hand around the grip and pulled his gun out.
Another vehicle pulled behind the truck. Two men got out. One opened the trunk of the car. Everything went still, quiet, and furious inside. The man lifted a gagged and bound, pajama-clad Samara from the vehicle and dumped her on the ground.
“Surprised, Michael?”
Noah turned his gaze to his brother. “How long have you known?”
“That you’re a traitor?” He gave a slow shake of his head. “I never trusted you, but it wasn’t until I saw her move yesterday that I knew for sure.”
“You saw her move?”
“Well, actually I saw the little tracking device we injected her with move. Best invention ever. We tag the merchandise as soon as we get it. That way if it ever tries to escape, we can pinpoint the location exactly.” He looked over at a wild-eyed and furious Samara lying on the ground. “Just as a precaution, I checked the monitor. Sure enough, about five minutes after you came back from dumping her body, it started moving. We tracked her to a house in town. You killed her and now she’s resurrected … a fucking miracle, don’t you think?”
“Let her go, Mitch. There’s no reason for her to be involved.”
A familiar childlike giggle burst from Mitch’s mouth. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen. But I am going to give her sort of a test. Depending on her answer after I administer the test, will determine how long she lives.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m going to fuck her. After I’m finished, she can tell me which brother gave her the best time. If she liked you better—which I highly doubt—she can die with you. If she says she likes me better, well … then, she can stay alive for as long as she interests me and I’ll keep giving it to her.”
Noah assessed his chances of getting to Samara before Mitch’s men killed him. Not good. Two men stood over Samara, their guns aimed directly at her head. Three men, including Mitchell, had their guns pointed at him. Two other men sat in the cab of the truck. He could take out two, maybe three before he died. But that wouldn’t save Samara.
Noah did the only thing he could do. He dropped his gun. Hands in the air, he faced his brother. “Let’s settle this, Mitch … like we should have years earlier. You really want to see who’s the best? Put your gun down and show me how good you really are.”
Mitchell’s mouth moved up in a sneer. “Yeah, you’d really like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Hey, even if I win, you still have four men with guns who can take me down. If you win, you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing you really were the best.” Moving closer, Noah taunted softly, “Come on, little brother. Are you afraid to find out I really am better than you?”
With a slow nod, Mitchell dropped his gun. His glance encompassed his men. “No interfering. I’m going to show this bastard once and for all why I was my daddy’s favorite.” He jerked his head toward Samara. “She does anything other than blink … shoot her.”
The men backed away, giving them fighting room.
The brothers circled each other. Mitch’s face revealed the utter hatred he held for his brother. One he’d often displayed when they were kids. Noah maintained an expression of amused boredom. An act to play on Mitchell’s insecurities. And it was working. Mitchell’s complexion turned crimson, his eyes flashed furiously.
Noah’s amused taunt broke the tense silence. “We just going to circle each other till one of us drops from dizziness?”
“Fuck you!” Mitch lowered his head and threw himself at Noah. With a speed that always surprised people because of his size, Noah sidestepped him. Mitchell flew past him, then thudded to the ground, flat on his face.
Mitch’s brutality and temper were no match for Noah’s athleticism and skill. Noah had trained for years. Mitch hadn’t devoted his entire life to helping anyone but himself, and it showed. There was no way for him to compete with Noah’s strength and experience.
His brother evidently realized this the second time he found himself on his ass, with Noah standing over him without a scratch. With a feral roar, Mitchell jumped up and rushed Noah again, managing to get in a glancing blow to Noah’s face. Dodging the next one, Noah whirled and kicked. Mitch deflected a direct hit to his temple, catching it on his shoulder instead. The blow knocked him down, but he was back on his feet in seconds, coming at Noah full force.
This time, Noah took him head-on. With an upper-cut to his jaw and a punch to his gut, Mitchell doubled over, gagging and spitting blood.
Cool dispassion his only emotion, Noah looked down at his brother. This man had shared a womb with him, but other than their looks, shared nothing else. It was time to end it. Time for justice to be meted out.
Mitchell straightened and rushed toward him again. Noah didn’t see the knife until it made a downward slice into his side. Grunting at the sting, Noah nevertheless jerked Mitch around. One arm wrapped around his brother’s neck, another against the side of his head. One snap, it would all be over. … Mitch would finally be dead.
God, he couldn’t do it.
Furious with himself, he applied just the right amount of pressure for unconsciousness. When his brother went limp, he let him drop to the ground.
Hell exploded.
The man closest to Mitchell raised his gun to fire. Noah kicked the gun from his hand and shoved him toward another man who was about to shoot. Instead of hitting Noah, the bullet slammed into the man Noah had pushed, and both men fell to the ground. Whirling, Noah grabbed the gun he’d dropped and fired at the two men next to Samara. One went down. The other grabbed Samara. His hands shaking, eyes wild with panic, he held her in front of him, his gun to her head.
In his peripheral vision, Noah saw Jordan, Eden, and other LCR employees flood the campground. Two operatives took care of the men in the cab of the truck. When the others saw what was happening, they came to a standstill.
Focused on the man holding Samara, Noah opened his palm, dropped his gun to the ground. Holding his hands up, he kept his tone low and gentle. “You’re surrounded. You have two choices. Let her go or die.”
Noah’s eyes narrowed on the man’s trembling hand. The slightest pressure and the gun might go off. He locked eyes with Samara. Taking a chance she could read his mind, his gaze dropped to the ground. He looked back to see comprehension. Hands still in the air, he held up one, two, and then three fingers. On the third finger, Samara’s knees bent and she dropped as low as she could go. In that instant, Noah pulled his knife from the back pocket of his jeans and threw it, hitting the man in the throat. He released Samara and fell to the ground, clutching the mortal wound.
Eden ran to Samara and untied her. Other LCR operatives spread out, searching for more men.
Jordan sauntered over to Noah. “Hell, Noah, did you leave anything for us to do?”
Noah jerked his head toward the men on the ground. “Handcuff the bastards together, then get the medics over here.”
Without another glance at his brother, Noah walked away. Doing what he’d been doing for years, he focused on the needs of the victims as he called out orders. “Check the truck—there may be more men. Then let’s get the girls out and looked after.” He gestured in the direction of a cabin. “Three girls in the third one on the left. Take a couple of the medics and a counselor with you.”
“You’re hurt.”
Samara stood in front of him, tears pouring from her eyes.
“Just a scratch.”
“Scratches don’t pour blood, Noah.”
Her voice, so thick with tears and emotion, was more painful than the cut in his side. She had been through hell and he was responsible for every bit of it. His fingers touched the hideous bruise on her cheek. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” She shuddered out a sigh. “I woke up and they were standing over me. I never even got a chance to scream. I heard them say they would come back and take care of the others after they brought me back to Mitchell.”
Noah wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “It’s over, Mara. I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through, but I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you.”
Samara tilted her head back to look up at him, her heart in her eyes. “It’ll never be over, Noah. You know that as well as I do.”
“What are you
talking about?”
“You can’t just ignore—”
A shot sounded, then another one. Noah pushed her behind him as his eyes searched for a threat.
“Stay here.” He took off running.
Tired of being treated like a fragile creature, Samara ignored him and followed. Her legs weak and wobbly, it took several seconds longer for her to reach the others. She let out a small cry when she saw Jordan lying on the ground, Eden on her knees beside him.
“Let me see it, Jordan.” Eden’s voice was thick with tears.
“Sweetheart, I’m fine. Remember, I wore my vest. It just knocked the breath out of me.”
Noah walked over and extended a hand to Jordan to help him up. Eden continued to run her hands over Jordan frantically, apparently making sure he wasn’t hiding an injury from her.
“Eden, stop that or we’re going to have to go find a room.” The tender amusement in Jordan’s voice broke the tension.
Noah looked around. “Tell me what we’ve got.”
An LCR operative Samara knew as Dylan nodded toward the man lying on the ground. “He came from around the corner … took us by surprise. We’ve got medics and a counselor in with the girls in the cabin.” He jerked his head toward the truck. “Go over and take a look.”
Samara followed the others and stopped on a gasp. A dozen young girls sat on the floor, all chained to the wall of the truck and to one another. Some were nude; others were clad in panties and bras. Two LCR operatives were working on unlocking the chains. Some of the girls were crying. Many were in shock, just staring into space.
Noah stood at the end of the truck. “Ladies, we’re going to get you home to your families as soon as possible.” His voice was just loud enough to be heard by the girls and so compassionate and caring that tears pooled in her eyes. Was it any wonder she loved this man?
Unaware of the woman who stood only inches away, dying to be held in his arms, he turned to Dylan. “Get them out and see if you can find a halfway clean cabin to put them in. Take the medics and counselors with you. Get them treated and clothed before anybody else sees them. Also, see if you can find a girl named Lara Kelly. … She may be one of the girls in the cabin. When you do, call Gabe’s cellphone and tell him to let her speak to her brother Justin.”
RETURN TO ME Page 17