Christmas Delivery

by Patricia Rosemoor

  Gunfire hit wood and metal in that opposite direction, but stopped just as Simon got to the outside wall of the building. He pressed his back against the boards and adjusted his breathing the way he’d learned so that Zanko wouldn’t hear him. Barely a yard away, the opening that had once held a door awaited him.

  Movement from the wreck where he’d left Lexie made him want to curse aloud. She was going to come after him. Damn it! He had to get Zanko before the bastard could get her! The supposed survivor would kill her, if he could. He would kill them both. They’d been set up by whoever had been running the operation, and Zanko—if that was even his real name—had been hired to get rid of them.

  Simon threw himself through the doorway and rolled. Shots chewed up the flooring around him, but he got behind a collapsed table unscathed.

  “You might as well give up now,” he said. “If the man who hired you told you anything about me, you know I was trained by the best. Your life for a name.”

  In response, he earned a curse and another round of gunfire that pinned his location for Simon. He didn’t want to kill the man—Zanko couldn’t talk if he was dead—but he would if he had to, if it meant saving his own or Lexie’s life.

  Tuning into the night, Simon caught every sound, would be able to see every movement, no matter that the space was dark but for the faint moonlight cutting through the doorway and the glassless windows. He remained still, his breathing easy and shallow, but his quarry didn’t have the same training. Zanko was making slight movements, probably looking for a way to get to Simon. His clothing rustled. He expelled his breath in little puffs of anxiety.

  Simon shoved his gun in its holster and grabbed the legs of the table sheltering him. His muscles coiled in expectation and when the man made his move, so did Simon, lifting the table and using it as a shield as he plunged forward and smacked the other man hard.

  “Aak!” Zanko jerked backward, the gun flying out of his hand and hitting something with a sharp thud.

  Zanko was a big man, bigger than Simon, but definitely not as toned. Throwing what was left of the table to the side, Simon got his hands on the bastard and threw him, too, so that he hit a rotten support that broke with a sharp crack. The ceiling started sifting down on them, but that didn’t stop Simon.

  “Who hired you?” he demanded, ignoring the debris falling on him and dragging Zanko back up to his feet.

  Eyes dark enough to look black in a puffy, beard-stubbled face glared at him. The man tried kneeing him, but Simon stepped to the side, at the same time catching Zanko’s leg and twisting. Zanko rolled and flew into the wall, his arm punching through the rotting wood to the outside. He struggled to free himself, but didn’t succeed until Simon grabbed the front of his jacket with both fists and gave a sharp pull.

  “I don’t intend to kill you,” Simon growled. “But I intend to get a name from you.”

  Zanko spat and Simon ducked to the side, then twisted the other man’s arm until he screamed.

  “I was trained to get information from reluctant people,” Simon said. “I know how to make you hurt, how to make you suffer. I don’t even have to break anything to do it. I can even do it without leaving any mark on you.” He had never tortured anyone, but Zanko didn’t know that. “You can make things easier on yourself if you talk, Zanko. Give me the name of the man who hired you to kill us.”

  Just then Lexie slipped through the doorway and though Simon didn’t so much as look her way, he sensed her, and the distraction of knowing she was there was enough to throw him off just a hair, just for a millisecond. Zanko struck out, gut-punching him this time, then hooking a foot behind Simon’s knee and giving it a sharp tug. Simon went halfway down and though it only took seconds for him to recover, Zanko was on his way to the door.

  Simon regained his footing too late. Zanko had already grabbed Lexie and spun around, using her as a shield.

  “I, too, know how to make people hurt,” he said, his accent distinctly East Coast. “Don’t move or I’ll break something.”

  Simon’s heart thudded hard against his ribs as Zanko backed out of the shack and Lexie’s expression turned horrified as she tried to fight the man off. It was like watching a fly beating its wings against a predator. Simon thought fast, but he couldn’t see a way of getting to Zanko without the bastard doing something nasty to Lexie.

  “You can be sure that if you so much as cause her the slightest harm,” Simon growled, “your life will be worthless, Zanko. I’ll hunt you to the ends of the earth if I have to. I’ll gut you and skin you and hang what’s left of you out to dry!”

  Zanko was backing Lexie down the beach now, toward the fallen pier. What the hell was he up to?

  Though Simon followed, he didn’t dare rush the man, lest he carry on with his threat against Lexie. He kept his distance, yet matched Zanko stride for stride.

  Lexie wasn’t stopping, either. She kept struggling in Zanko’s arms, working her face over to his bare hand.

  Knowing she was planning on biting the man, Simon whispered, “Don’t do it, Lexie.” But he knew she would and his muscles once more coiled for attack.

  Suddenly, Zanko yelled, the sound cutting through the night. He lifted Lexie off her feet and tossed her as he might toss a piece of trash. Limbs flailing, she went flying at the broken wood of the downed pier. No contest about which of them to go after. Simon had to see to Lexie, to make certain she was all right.

  In the water now, she was thrashing around in an attempt to free herself from the debris.

  “I’m all right. Go after him!” she screamed.

  But he was already reaching down to help her.

  “Go!” Getting to her feet, she literally pushed him into moving.

  Drawing his gun, Simon negotiated the pier, using it for cover in case Zanko had another piece. Then a motor cut through the night and Simon threw caution to the wind and raced around the wooden piles only to see a speedboat take off.

  Simon aimed and took a couple shots, thinking to wound the man, maybe toss him out of the boat. But the motor revved and the speedboat practically went airborne.

  Cursing, he lowered his gun even as Lexie joined him.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Shaken and maybe a little bruised is all.”

  Simon took her in his arms and held her, steady as rock. Inside he was shaking. He knew what atrocities humans could do to one another. Awful memories flickered through his mind like a photograph album from hell.

  Though Lexie had gotten away relatively unscathed, the mere threat to her gave Simon one more reason to thirst for justice to be wielded by his own hand.

  Chapter Eleven

  As Simon drove back over the Bay Bridge toward Jenkins Cove, his threats against Zanko haunted Lexie, who had heard every chilling word.

  They were just threats, she told herself, wrapping the blanket she luckily carried in the SUV more tightly around her. She was still wet from that dunk in the bay, but the dry cover and the heat blowing on her were keeping her warm enough physically.It was her heart that had gone cold, and Lexie was trying to rationalize Simon’s words.

  He’d simply been trying to find a way to make Zanko talk, then to make certain the man didn’t hurt her. But Lexie knew that wasn’t really true, that there was a part of Simon that was damaged and downright scary. Not that she was threatened by him.

  Even so, Simon scared her in a more visceral way.

  Tonight had given her more of an idea of his experience as a mercenary. Had made her wonder if there was any coming back from that kind of psychological damage. Even though the choice to become a soldier for hire hadn’t initially been his, he’d continued working for Shadow Ops and the CIA when he’d no longer had to.

  Had Simon really felt he couldn’t inflict himself on her—his excuse for staying away—or had that violent way of life become ingrained in him?

  Simon had reason to be angry, to seek some kind of justice, but Lexie feared the only justice he really understood
, really appreciated, was one linked to violence. A thought that made her shiver.

  A fact that Simon noticed.

  He broke the uneasy silence. “Lexie, are you sure you’re all right? I can still get you to a clinic if there’s any doubt.”

  They were about a mile from Jenkins Cove and all Lexie wanted to do was get home, get in the shower and then get into dry clothing.

  “I’m fine. Just a little worse for wear, but I’ll manage.”

  Simon went silent again, then, as they passed the diner where they’d met Bray, said, “You realize that we were set up, right?”

  “It’s pretty obvious, even to me.”

  “Which means whoever ran the human trafficking operation is onto us,” he said. “That person must have caught the ad Claire ran, asking for any survivors to contact her. Zanko was the only one who did.”

  “But you don’t think he’s the one we’ve been looking for, do you?”

  “He was a hired gun, Lexie, a professional. He may have been part of the operation. My instincts tell me what’s left of it is bigger than one man. It couldn’t just have been the three of them—the nameless head, the doctor and his assistant who hanged himself.”

  Lexie nodded. “Anna Bencek said ten people came to the United States together, too many for Dr. Janecek and Kreeger to handle by themselves.”

  “So it makes sense that they had help, whether from hired guns like Zanko or from other locals.”

  Locals—more people she knew. The thought left Lexie breathless.

  “You’re talking about the average person? You think just anyone might be involved?”

  “Anyone who needs money and can use whatever is in it for him to clear his conscience.”

  Not wanting to think people she knew were guilty of propagating such horror, Lexie put it out of mind and thought again about the survivors, about what they’d learned and experienced that night.

  “We should have known that no one who’d gone through what the survivors had been through would want to come forward voluntarily,” Lexie said. “Zanko’s asking for money made him more believable somehow.” Remembering that Simon hadn’t given away his name during their phone conversation, she asked, “But why would these people want to kill us when they didn’t even know who we were?”

  “They simply didn’t care. The fact that anyone was onto them and was looking for information by finding survivors was enough. They couldn’t chance our finding a real survivor who might talk.”

  Lexie’s mind whirled with that thought. Then what about the survivors themselves? Would the head of the operation get rid of any potential witnesses he could find?

  “Anna Bencek…Oh, no.” A cold lump settled in Lexie’s stomach. “What if we put her in danger?”

  Simon cursed and immediately made a call on his cell. “Bray, we have a problem.”

  Simon then told Bray about the ambush that had been awaiting them and the possibility that someone could get to Anna Bencek.

  Lexie sat stunned. She hadn’t so much as guessed it would come to this. She’d never meant to put anyone else in danger, certainly not a woman who’d already been through so much. And she didn’t want to be in danger again herself.

  Three attacks in as many days were enough to send her running…but to where?

  Her whole life was in Jenkins Cove.

  Her business…her family…her daughter.

  Wanting in the worst way to call Katie, to make sure her daughter was safe, Lexie felt even more frightened and frustrated when she realized it was hours too late. Her parents went to bed early. If she called now, they would know something was wrong.

  Closing his cell, Simon said, “Bray will put someone on it immediately. One of his men will keep an eye on the Bencek woman until this thing is settled.”

  “Thank God,” Lexie said, still edgy. “I would never forgive myself if…” She forced herself to stop thinking that way. Anna Bencek would be all right. Bray’s man would see to it. “Simon, can you call Katie’s bodyguard? I just want to make sure she’s all right.”

  “He would have called me if anything suspicious had happened, but if it’ll make you feel better, of course I’ll check.”

  He immediately made the second call just as they pulled into the driveway outside her house.

  Lexie barely swallowed until Simon nodded at her and said, “Good,” to the man at the other end. “We had some problems tonight. Be prepared, just in case.” He hung up. “Lights went out about an hour ago. All is well at your parents’ house.”

  “Thankfully.” She sighed in relief.

  “Now let’s get you inside where you can get warm.”

  “I’m warm enough,” Lexie countered, but she didn’t stop Simon from wrapping an arm around her back and rushing her to the front door.

  By the time they got inside, she was hot and not from the room’s temperature. Pulling away from him, she dropped the blanket and took off her wet jacket, which he took from her.

  Kicking off her equally wet boots and socks and dropping them by the door, she said, “I’m heading straight for the shower.”

  “Good idea.”

  She thought he meant good idea for her until a few minutes later. As she stood in the shower, just letting the hot water pound her, a nude Simon opened the glass door and slipped inside.

  “Simon…”

  This wasn’t part of the deal. He’d agreed to sleep on the couch. So why couldn’t she make herself remind him of that promise?

  “I just want to check you for injuries,” he said, “since you were too stubborn to go to an E.R. or clinic.”

  The way he was inspecting her body made Lexie’s toes curl, and something warm and fluid unfurled inside her. She didn’t want to be alone. She wanted safe arms around her and assurances that everything was going to be all right.

  He was thoroughly wet now, and the water made his skin gleam and accentuated the incredible sculpted musculature of the body she’d once known nearly as well as her own.

  “What makes you an expert?” she asked, meaning to tease him.

  “Field experience.”

  He was serious.

  She felt heartsick for him.

  What Simon must have endured for more than a decade was something she couldn’t fathom. Having to play doctor for his comrades out of necessity seemed unreal to her. By comparison, her life with all its daily dramas had been a picnic. She’d always had her family to love and support her. And she’d had their daughter.

  While Simon had been caught in a living hell.

  Now under the water with her, he turned her around, checked her body gently but thoroughly for any injury. The more he touched her, the less likely Lexie thought it would be that he would spend the night on the couch.

  Why should she push him away from her when being with him was what she wanted? What she needed. What he needed.

  The danger they’d shared had bonded them in a way she didn’t quite understand. Even while part of her was frightened of what Simon might have become, there was a stronger-than-ever attraction to him. That scary part of him had protected her, she reminded herself, would keep her and their daughter safe until they found the answers that would bring down the perpetrators of the horrendous human trafficking operation.

  He turned her again, ran his hands over her ribs.

  Suddenly consumed by physical hunger, she couldn’t meet his eyes, but looked down and realized that examining her had exactly the same effect on him. Thrown back into the past, she remembered the things they’d done for months until finally giving in to their passions and sleeping together that one magic night.

  Before she could stop herself, she was touching him…lowering herself to her knees…kissing him…tasting him. Water drummed against her back as she took his soft tip into her mouth, loving the salty taste of him.

  He groaned and threaded his fingers in her hair, and held her head tight up against him.

  At seventeen, she’d become very practiced at this with him, but no
w at thirty, she felt like an amateur, wasn’t sure if she was taking him deep enough or sucking hard enough or using her tongue cleverly enough to please him.

  “Oh, Lexie, baby,” he growled, pulling her up and lifting her off her feet.

  The next thing she knew, her back was against the wet, slippery tile and her legs were wrapping around his hips and he was homing in on her like they’d done this on a regular basis for the last thirteen years. She was already drenched inside and he slipped in easily. Opening wider, she urged him in deeper until she had all of him.

  “This is where I want to be,” he murmured in her ear.

  “This is where I feel safe,” she admitted softly, trying to erase the memory of what had happened, of the fear she’d tasted, barely an hour before. She touched the scar on his chest, wondered if Simon ever really felt safe anymore.

  They held each other, shower water raining down on them, and didn’t move until the anticipation built and built. Finally he withdrew a little and pushed back inside. Her back was pressed against the wall, and he let go of her, found her breasts, tweaked her nipples the way she remembered he used to do.

  “Touch yourself,” he whispered in her ear, leaning back to give her access.

  Her breath caught in her throat as she slid a hand between them. While they’d only slept together that once, they’d tried just about everything else beforehand. He’d loved it when she would touch and stroke herself and let him watch.

  He was watching her now, his features tense with his desire. Sensation swirled through her, growing more urgent with each stroke.

  “Rub harder,” he whispered, and make his strokes last longer. “I want you to come with me. I’ll try to hold on.”

  Then he leaned over and kissed her openmouthed, and it didn’t take her long to reach the frenzy he sought. Pressing his hands against the wall on either side of her head, he rocked into her faster and harder so their rhythms matched, until, at last, they reached the pinnacle, crying out, kissing each other like it might be the last time.