Handcuffed by Her Hero

by Angel Payne

  “Z.”

  “Huh?” he stammered. “What?”

  “You’re not breathing.”

  A shrill ring saved him from having to answer or apologize to that. The satellite phone.

  He rushed into the kitchen to pick it up. The ID showed Garrett’s land line, but he still didn’t say anything when he picked up. It was anyone’s guess as to how far Mua’s influence stretched now.

  “Zsycho? Annyeong?”

  He expelled a relieved breath. There was only one person who spoke Korean in a tone as pretty as his face. “Runway.” He used Ethan Archer’s radio call sign in return. “Hey, man. What the hell are you doing at Hawk’s place?”

  “Helping you out, ass face. Most of the team’s here. It’s our new command center, I guess.”

  His mind jumped three steps ahead to the next conclusion. “Which means you’re not using the team facilities at base.”

  Ethan’s own rough breath clouded the connection. “No.” Defeat weighted the word. “That’s part of the reason for the zero-dark-fuck-me call.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He grunted against the thick, dreading ball curling in his gut. “What’s the word on this rodeo?”

  “Not bueno,” Ethan supplied. “Your horse is limping, Z.” He paused for a second. It sounded like a bunch of people had just come into Garrett’s condo. “Hawk, Slash, T-Bomb, and Moonstormer just got back from running Franz back to the base. He had to file you as AWOL, Zeke. I mean, officially.”

  The ball turned into a lead brick. He knew Runway couldn’t see his nod, but he went through the motion anyway. “Yeah. Got it.”

  “He didn’t want to, man.”

  “I know,” he returned. “But I expect things weren’t pretty when he took all our findings to the Chief of Police.”

  “And the mayor,” Ethan added.

  “Shit.” He couldn’t hide the surprise from that one. “Does Franz think Mua’s got a squeeze around nut sacs that high?”

  “He wasn’t ruling out the possibility, especially when the mayor backed up every page of the book that the chief wants thrown at you.”

  Good-bye anxiety, hello rage. Two things happened in that second to cause the twist. First, remembering the incident that had led to this mess to begin with, how those bastards were preparing to leash Rayna up and drag her back to Thailand like an escaped zoo animal. Second, watching her round the corner in front of him now, her face darkened by apprehension—and the purple bruise at the side of her face that still bore evidence to their cruelty.

  “If the asshat wants to throw books, let him come,” he snarled. “Hawk is always telling me to read more, anyhow. We’ll all learn something too, such as how half their police force is on the take from a criminal who’s supposed to be locked up in their highest security box.”

  “We’re all on that tack with you, Zsych.” There was more scuffling, as if the other guys heard Ethan say his name and were literally gathering around in a circle of support. “He’s not getting away with this bullshit anymore. Franz has given us the keys to the jeep and told us to throw down the throttle on exposing him, along with every ankle-grabbing fuck stick in the PD or otherwise who’s jumped in his mud puddle.”

  “Outstanding.” The support of his team, who were the closest thing he’d ever get to brothers, filled his chest with a furnace of gratitude. He relaxed enough to let Rayna push him down onto a barstool so she could do a re-check and bandage change on his own souvenir from the Mua-nettes. “So what am I doing next?”

  “Uhhhh…” Ethan grunted. “What do you mean what are you doing next?”

  There was a brief scuffle on the line. The next voice he heard was Garrett’s. “You maintain that twenty, Zsycho,” he barked. “Your invisibility is our best ally. With them all on the prowl for you, we have much less clog on the line for these firewall jumps into their system.”

  Z scissored his jaw and nodded again. “Agreed,” he said. “As much as I hate admitting it…agreed.”

  The chatter behind Garrett faded. Even so, his friend lowered his voice. “Level with me, Z. You gonna be okay for a few days while we get this twister roped in?”

  He snorted. “If I say no, you going to check Rayna and me into the goddamn Four Seasons?” He followed it with a chuckle that felt a little manic. “I’m sure I’ve been in rougher scrapes than this. Just remind me what they were when this is all over.”

  Garrett was quiet for a long moment, which tossed the brick of dread back into Z’s stomach. They both knew what he was trying to reference by ‘rough scrapes.’ They also both knew he’d trade those hundred times he’d almost lost his life for this single moment of looking at the end of his military career. And his personal freedom.

  Angrily, he fired, “Look, everything’s hunky-dory here, okay? I’ve got cash stashed in the safe. I’ll run down to the general store for food and supplies. They’re floating my military ID pic on the news blasts, right?”

  “Yeah.” Garrett let out a laugh now, too. “The one you look nothing like most of the time.”

  “Especially now. With a hat and glasses, I’ll blend even more with the locals.” He glanced back over to Rayna, who was done with her futzing at his wound and now scooted up onto one of the kitchen stools. She gave him a sweetly supportive smile while wrapping his shirt around her knees for warmth. The action let him see a tiny piece of her ass, so cute and tawny and pinchable. That did not make his next words easier to say. “Hawk, did you ever made good on that plan to sneak Sage up here?”

  There was another lengthy pause. “Aw, hell,” his friend finally spat.

  Z frowned. “Hell what?”

  “I’m not getting that paddle back now, am I?”

  “What paddle?”

  “The one you found.” Garrett snorted. “Right? The one I got at the vendor night at Bastille, the leather-wrapped number with the end shaped like a heart, then left up there? Bastard. You know Sage loves that thing. You found it and now you’re holding it hostage. All right, what do you want for it?”

  Even under these circumstances, he’d usually laugh at that. But now, knowing he had at least a couple more days in this place with Rayna, that paddle and a whole kitchen full of kinky utensils that he hadn’t even used on her yet…

  That he couldn’t use on her, ever.

  Hopping the border and disappearing into the Canadian tundra was looking less torturous by the second.

  “I don’t want the damn paddle, Haystack Jack,” he retorted. “I was just hoping Sage left some clothes behind.”

  “Oh.” Garrett emitted a sarcastic snort. “Well, in that case, can’t help you, man.” When Zeke sliced a growl through the line, he cracked, “What the hell? You think I let her pack clothes for a weekend in the woods alone?”

  Z rolled his eyes. “One day, I’m going to regret exposing you to all this, aren’t I?”

  Garrett laughed. “I think I would have managed the way myself eventually.”

  “Yeah, just remember the buddy who put the first flogger in your hand, you stubborn smegma.”

  “No way I’m forgetting you right now, darling. You’re hotter than the Kardashians and all twelve Bachelor finalists right now.”

  “Gee thanks, my little love muffin.”

  “Bite me, Hayes.”

  “I’d really rather not.” Especially because he could only think of one body he longed to be biting right now. “But speaking of kinky aftermath—”

  “You wanna talk to T-Bomb?”

  Sometimes it was damn good to have a wingman who read your mind like a Jedi. “Check,” he responded to this friend. “Thanks, Hawk.”

  After half a minute, Tait’s voice came on the line. “Hey, Z.” His tone was strained.

  “Tait.” He turned away from Rayna and pulled in a deep breath. Awkward just got installed over the conversation in neon letters. “Listen…I need to thank you for having my six last night with Luna. Well…night before last, technically.”

  Tait shot back an ang
ry growl. “Are you really doing this shit? After you saved my bacon twice in Kaesŏng last Saturday?”

  “Not the same game and you know it, man. There are times and places for Psycho Zsycho, and—”

  “And from what I witnessed, Luna had no complaints about him showing up in that play room.”

  Something snuck into the guy’s voice that Zeke didn’t recognize. If they were women, he might even think a certain green monster had perched on T-Bomb’s shoulder. “Are you square with what happened, man?”

  “Yeah.” Again, Tait’s answer came too fast and easy. “Of course. It was a fucking awesome scene, Z. You were good with her; really amazing. I learned a few new things, too.”

  “Okay.” He said it slowly. “So how’s Luna? Was she square with everything?”

  “As square as she could be.” Tait took another breath as if to add to that but huffed into silence.

  “What?”

  “What do you mean, ‘what?’ Dude, she was using Harry Potter references on me. That woman, with her goddess hair and her endless eyes and her sexy wit, was reduced to Hogwarts analogies after being under your hand for an hour.”

  He felt his eyebrows jump. Half of him wanted to take Bommer’s clear-cut case of infatuation, mush it up into a nice pile of shit, and rub the guy’s surfer god face in it. Fortunately, the other part of him won out.

  “Yeah, okay,” he muttered. “I need to talk to her.”

  “Ya think?”

  “On the top of the to-do list, okay? Just as soon as I don’t have every cop, civvy and military, craving to put a bullet in my ass.”

  With that as a perky little conversation ender, he said good-bye to Tait, coordinated another call time with Garrett in twelve hours, and re-cradled the phone with a weighty exhalation.

  Rayna scooted around to stand next to him at the counter. She lifted the tips of her fingers to his forearm and scraped them lightly through his hair. Damn it if even that simple gesture from her didn’t ignite his blood in forty different ways again.

  “So we’re on the lam for a little while longer, Clyde?” She embellished it with a tiny giggle. Zeke struggled to match her mirth but couldn’t summon the feelings. They were jammed by an embargo on his senses, enacted by a joint effort between his cock and his mind, uniting as one front, behind one petrifying thought.

  How the hell was he expected to stay here with her for one more hour, let alone a day or two or three, and keep his hands completely off of her?

  You already know the answer to that, asshole.

  Because if you don’t, you’ll destroy her. Forget about everything you’ll do to her body. Consider the damage you’ll wreak upon her mind, her heart…

  Consider the devastation she’ll wreak on yours.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Ooohhh! I like this one.”

  Rayna giggled as she held up the T-shirt to her chest, grabbed from a bin of ridiculous tourist garb in the little gift store where she and Zeke were the only customers. It sure as hell beat the baggy sweatshirt he’d given her as a replacement for the Henley, along with her semi-clean sweats and muddy Skechers runners.

  Z glanced at the shirt, jabbed a tuft of her hair back under the Mariners baseball cap, and issued an answer without skipping a beat. “No.”

  She gave him a mocking gape. “No? What the hell, Hayes? It’s the best line from all the Indiana Jones movies. You know, this shirt is probably a classic.”

  “Classic piece of crap.”

  Her jaw dropped again. “You just said that about Professor Henry Jones Junior, buddy.”

  “Pffft. Whatever.”

  “Ohhh, I get it. You’re one of those Jedi boys who thinks Han Solo kicks Indy’s ass, right?”

  He grunted. “Han Solo isn’t afraid of some stupid-ass snakes.” He pondered a sweatshirt embellished with sparkled butterflies and flowers along with the words Cascades National Forest: A Blooming Good Time. “Han Solo isn’t afraid of anything. Just sayin’.”

  “Except Leia.”

  The second it came out, she realized she wasn’t entirely kidding. Fortunately, Z didn’t get her subtext due to his own search through the bin. “Why would he be afraid of Leia?” he muttered. “She’s the love of his life.”

  “And she knows that…how?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She glowered at him, strangely irritated. “The Empire Strikes Back. Cloud City, remember? He’s about to be encased in carbonite. They have no idea how long he’ll be frozen or if he’ll even survive the imprisonment. It’s dangerous shit. She comes clean, confesses she loves him. And he—”

  “Okay, look.” He abandoned the bin in favor of thumbing through a rack of hoodies on hangars. The action made it necessary for him to lean closer to her. “Leia is the leader of her people and usually has a blaster strapped to her thigh. It’s not like she needs hearts for dots in her words, or sappy astral sonnets. Han knows that.”

  The smile he sent as finish to that only worsened her weird case of rankled. Nevertheless, with a little smirk of her own, she returned, “Which is exactly why she scares him.”

  Not waiting for a comeback, she pivoted and started back down the aisle. Just before she rounded the corner near the hunting rifles, she called, “Get me the sparkly sweatshirt and you’re a dead man, Hayes.”

  * * * * *

  An hour later, with several bags of non-perishable groceries and new clothes in the Jag’s back seat, her mouth was filled with an incredible burst of flavor. She lifted a gaze at Z filled with pure rapture.

  “Holy shit,” she gasped. “You were right.”

  Z leaned back against the driver’s side door and cocked a grin. “Bet your ass I was.”

  “This is the best damn pizza on the planet.”

  “Worth the extra half hour down the hill?”

  “Mmmmm.” She took another bite and rolled her eyes in pleasure. “Yes, Sir!”

  Unbelievably, Zeke set his pizza down into the box that rested on his lap. She looked up in surprise—until her gaze got to his face. His parted lips and darkened gaze brought a meltdown of comprehension. And remembrance. And deep, needing lust.

  And unease.

  “It—just popped out,” she murmured.

  “It sure did.” His voice was equally low. And coarse. And damnably, deliciously sexy. He didn’t falter his stare, making her feel like the cheese on the pizza. The box rested against his broad, firm abs. She fought off a sudden urge to toss the thing into the back seat, climb over, and plunge her hands under his jacket just to feel his hot, hard skin again. She dared glancing up at him again, biting her lower lip to keep her chin from wobbling and betraying her thoughts.

  Like that helped.

  “Rayna.” It spilled from him on a rasp. “Goddamnit. How do you do that to me?”

  She frowned, trying to discern whether he’d just bashed her or complimented her. “Do what?”

  He shook his head. The action stirred thicker tension into the air. “That.” He rubbed his chest hard. “With just your eyes…hell.”

  She looked back down. It didn’t thin out her cloud of need at all. Nor, she realized, did she want it to. This churning, needing burn in her body for him…she liked it. Though she knew it was insane, even knew her body might end up bearing the same deep welts she’d seen on Luna, she needed him.

  “Z?”

  “What?”

  She peered up at him again. “Before that day, with Kier…I’d never been to that park.”

  “I know.”

  “I never went back after.”

  “I know.” He gazed out the windshield as he repeated it. The scudding skies etched his bold features in dark gray light, making him look more a troubled warrior than ever. Her fingers itched with the need to touch him, to soothe those dark edges away from him. “I went back a few times,” he confessed. “Looking for you.”

  “You did?”

  He rolled his head, cracking his neck. It didn’t ease the taut lines at the edge of his
face. “I never knew what had happened. Whether you were okay.”

  It was easy to control the little tingles that danced through her chest. Fighting the thrill that rooted in her stomach was another thing. “You worried about me?”

  He didn’t answer her right away. His brows bunched as he picked apart one of the napkins, piece by thumbnail-sized piece. “You can blame the ballet for that.”

  If he’d just told her he was secretly a European prince, she wouldn’t have been more stunned. “Excuse me?” She couldn’t help the laugh with which she finished.

  “Kier and I were street mongrels, Ray. You know that part, already.” After she nodded, he went on, “We were actually friends for a long time as younger kids. We were unified by our belief that there had to be a way out. Trouble was, once we hit middle school, Kier’s escape hatch was lined with drug dealing, gun running, booze and dropping out. I chose a different path. It involved the ballet.”

  She tossed him a teasing sneer. “You joined up with the Pac Northwest Ballet?”

  “Not exactly.” His lips quirked. “My social worker was a huge fan.” He dragged a hand through his hair as an excuse to hide his embarrassed grin. “The rec center always got donated tickets, and she told me I was a great date. The night after Kier and I bumped heads in the park over you, I went to see The Fire Bird with Mel. The ballerina who played her had hair as beautiful as yours. The entire time I watched the show, I thought about my own fire bird from the park. I thought about…you.” He lifted a wistful grin. “I was so pissed at the end when the bird didn’t magically morph into a princess or something. She was shorted by a feather and a prince. What the hell was up with that?”

  She giggled. She couldn’t help it. “Maybe the prince saw a blaster on her thigh and figured she was good to go.”

  Zeke scowled at her and shoved half a piece of pizza into his mouth. After gulping it down, he looked over and queried, “So you were okay, then? The police got you home?”

  “Yeah.” She issued the answer fast, flustered by what his fervent tone did to her. Actually, more than flustered. She wanted to launch herself into him, flattened pizza be damned. She wanted to grab his hair, kiss him, and beg him to put his hands on naughty places on her body. She wanted to show him that last night had only made her want more of him. And yes, more of his domination. Maybe much more.