by Leslie North
Then there was the earth-shattering sex…
Yeah, I definitely need to get to know him better. Much, much better.
But her first step was escape. Outside the window was a five to six-foot drop, then a flat, industrial-style rooftop stretched for a few hundred feet or so. Five to six feet she could handle. Now if she could just get the dumb thing to budge. Nope. Not an inch. Great. Breaking the glass would only have the goon squad downstairs descending on her in seconds. She pulled out her pocket knife again. Maybe she could use the blade for leverage. Or not. It was meant for cutting, not heavy lifting. So, back to the supply pile she went. After several more minutes of searching, Hayley located the top half of a rusted old screwdriver.
She went back to the window and wedged the thing into the tiny crack between the bottom of the window and sill and pushed down hard. She’d just started to make a bit of progress when the voices returned outside her door.
Fuck.
She dove for the tarp and landed on her side, as more of her abductors returned.
“What should we do with her?” one of the guys from before asked.
“We’ll need to take her with us. She’s the bait.”
Bait?
Her heart battered against her chest. They were going to use her to lure Scotty and his team to the canal. Of course they were. The one time she’d had a decent night with a decent guy and now it would end in bloodshed.
“And the diversion,” another guy said.
Diversion? For what?
“Rigs, you grab her and tote her down,” yet another new voice said, this one more commanding than the others. “The rest of us will load the equipment in the van.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hayley still had the screwdriver clutched tight in her fist. If she timed it right… She waited until the other footsteps disappeared down the stairs and the new guy’s breathing drew nearer to her side. She could take him. She would take him down. She had no choice.
He tapped her with his boot again and she gathered her strength, then struck, driving the sharp end of the screwdriver deep into his lower leg. The guy screamed and dropped, clutching his shin. Hayley scrambled to the window.
To hell with the noise. Hayley grabbed whatever she could find and smashed the window. With the way that dude was screaming, his buddies would be up here in seconds anyway. One leg out the window, she peered back and noticed the guy’s face looked weird, kind of shiny and pink, like the skin was new and plastic. Her eyes widened. Like a burn patient.
Michael Becks.
“What the fuck?” a man yelled from the doorway behind her, but Hayley was already out the window and running for her life.
Get away. Get to Scotty. Get these bastards behind bars where they belong.
The mantra chanted through her head in time to her pounding feet.
She didn’t look back to see if anyone followed, just kept running. At the edge of the roof, she grabbed hold of a rickety old fire escape ladder and climbed down to the ground, then sprinted away as fast as her legs would take her.
Brick buildings and people blurred past as she weaved through the crowd on the sidewalk. The smell of hot asphalt and bus exhaust stung her nose. She was somewhere downtown, perhaps the old manufacturing district based on the rusted-out, abandoned spaces around her. Weak sunlight filtered through the clouds above, so it had to be mid-afternoon maybe. She had no idea how long she’d been out, but it didn’t seem longer than a few hours at most.
A phone. She needed to get to a phone to call Scotty.
The thud of heavy booted feet behind her kept her zooming forward, though she never once looked back to confirm if she was really being followed or only imagining it. She just ran and ran and ran.
Once she emerged out onto a busy street, she made a beeline for the first establishment she saw—a pawn shop. Hayley ducked inside the dimly lit store and blinked several times to allow her vision to adjust from the sunlight outside. At the counter, she took a few gulping breaths while the attendant stared at her bug-eyed. She held up a finger then swallowed hard. “Can…I…use…your…phone?”
“Uh.” The kid gave her a slow once-over. “Is it an emergency?”
“Hell…yes.”
He hesitated, then slid an old rotary dial phone across the counter to her. “Local only.”
“Thanks.”
Hayley started to dial, but the bell above the front door jangled. Shit. She hurried behind the counter next to the kid then plopped down on the floor, the phone in her lap, praying whoever it was had needed the same extra time to be able to see in here like she had and hadn’t spotted her.
“Uh…” The kid frowned down at Hayley and she held a finger to her lips, silently pleading with him not to give her away. He gave her a confused look then turned to face the counter again. “Can I help you, sir?”
“I’m looking for a girl. Red hair, skinny. You seen her?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Becks.
The kid’s gaze darted to her then back again. “Uh, no.”
“You sure?”
Hayley felt the kid’s legs tremble beside her and she prayed he wouldn’t pee his pants.
“Yeah. I-I’m sure.”
Her assailant cursed then stormed out of the shop. The kid clutched the edge of the counter in a white-knuckled grip and Hayley dialed her number. “I owe you one. Thanks.”
Scotty answered on the first ring. “Hello?”
“It’s me,” she said, surprised how good it was to hear his voice. “Can you come get me?”
“Where are you?” His voice sounded rough. “Are you all right, Red? Did they hurt you?”
“I’m fine. I got away, but Scotty they’re coming after you and your team.”
“Give me your address. I’ll be right there.”
Twenty minutes later, she was crowded beside him in a car driven by Kyle, heading to one of their safe houses in DC. These guys had more bolt holes than the Bureau, apparently. The rest of the team was there too. Gage, the light streaming in through the car window outlining his missing earlobe, sat in the passenger seat. Spencer was squished in on one side of her, his strawberry blond hair, blowing in the breeze from his open window and his hand on his weapon just in case of attack, while Scotty guarded her on the other.
“You sure you’re okay?” Scotty nudged her shoulder beneath the blanket he’d thrown over her and part of him. He’d taken hold of her hand too, right after they’d left the pawn shop, and he’d not let her go since.
Hayley stared straight ahead and nodded. She couldn’t look at him, not now. If she did, the tightness in her chest might burst out as tears and then he’d hold her and comfort her and she’d get lost in his deep blue eyes again and… no. Just no. She’d kept her shit together just fine during the crisis, as the Bureau had trained her to do. But now, in the aftermath… her body trembled and her knees shook and she was gearing up to be a fine mess. “I’m fine. My head’s a little sore, but otherwise, I’m good.”
“Glad to hear it.” He gave her a crooked little half-grin, his gaze warm and soft, and a different kind of shaking took over her body, born of want and need. “We’ll be at the condo a minute.”
“Looks like they knocked you a good one,” Spencer said, squinting at her bruised temple.
“Yeah.” She probably looked like Frankenstein’s bride after what she’d been through.
“Those guys who took me are setting you up. They wanted to use me as bait. And a diversion, they said. Not sure what that’s all about. Oh, and I think one of them was the guy you told me about, Scotty. The SEAL who got burned?”
“Becks?” Kyle glanced at her in the rearview mirror, his expression suspicious. “And you’re telling us this why, Agent Stevens? Isn’t that against Bureau policy?”
Right. They’d all seen Michelle’s team at the pub, probably got an earful from Scotty too. No wonder they all seemed to be giving her the cold shoulder. Besides, with everything these guys had been through the
y had a right to keep up their guard. “I’m not exactly working for the Bureau anymore on this case, Mr. Matthews. After what I’ve found regarding your brother’s death. I don’t believe your team was involved.”
“Well, you’d be in the minority then.” This from Gage. He shifted slightly to look at her, his gaze icy.
“Please, call me Hayley.” She cleared her throat. “All of you.”
“I’m down with that,” Spencer said, lifting an arm to put around her, then stopping halfway when Scotty gave him a death glare. He dropped his arm back to his side and grinned. “Hayley it is.”
Gage stared at her for a long moment, then gave a curt nod and swiveled to face front again.
Kyle, the ever-stern team leader, flicked his gaze to her in the mirror, his expression inscrutable. Finally, he took a deep breath and looked away. “Okay. You can call me, Kyle.”
“Well done, Red.” Scotty whispered in her ear and she couldn’t suppress her shiver or the resulting rush of happiness his praise caused. “He likes you.”
“Good.” She tried to play it off even as a flush prickled up her cheeks. “Guess that makes one of you then.”
“Nope.” Scotty squeezed her thigh beneath the blanket. “That makes two. I’m pretty partial to you myself.”
“Yeah?” Hayley hazarded a look at him then, her gaze focused on his soft lips, the hint of stubble shadowing his jaw, his warm blue eyes.
“Oh yeah, Red.” He snuggled a bit closer to her and traced his thumb in lazy circles against her palm. “Oh yeah.”
Chapter Twelve
“I say we just storm in there and kick some fucking ass?” Scotty slammed a fry pan down on the burner and poured in some olive oil before lighting the flame. “I’m sick of just sitting around and doing nothing.”
“We’re not doing nothing.” Kyle’s tone remained calm as he pulled a bottled water from the fridge. “We’re strategizing.”
“Yeah?” He slapped down some freshly washed zucchini, chopping it into thin slices with way more force than was necessary. “Because it sure as hell feels like a whole lot of nothing to me. I want to rip their fucking heads off with my bare hands for touching Hayley.”
“Watch yourself,” Gage growled, his tone disgruntled as he leaned against the breakfast bar. “Show some respect for your team leader, dude. And it’s not like you’re working either.”
“I am working.” Scotty tossed the zucchini into the sizzling pan then added a can of diced tomatoes and a some green pepper and onion to the sautéing vegetables before giving his team mate a look. He’d been giving the guy the benefit of the doubt, figuring he was cranky because of Anna working a lot lately and her not giving him all of her attention. Now, his patience had worn beyond thin. “Somebody has to feed you ungrateful jackasses.”
“I am not ungrateful,” Spencer piped in from the living room. “Smell’s great, by the way.”
Gage shook his head and cursed under his breath. “You know what I mean.”
“No, actually, I don’t.” Scotty lowered the flame on the burner then faced his fellow SEAL, arms crossed. “What exactly are you trying to say, huh? You got a problem with me cooking?”
“Maybe.”
“Fantastic.”
Fists clenched and jaw tight, Scotty stepped closer. He’d been on edge and strung tighter than a razor wire ever since Hayley’s return. He needed to touch her, kiss her, make sure for himself she was okay. But so far, she’d stayed in her own corner of the living room with her nose glued to her laptop, ignoring him completely.
Fighting with his team mates wouldn’t help his frustrations, but at least it allowed him to blow off some steam. “You want to take this outside? Because the way I’m feeling right now, I will kick your ass so hard you won’t sit for the next century.”
Gage laughed. “I’d love to see you try, shithead. All you combat specialists hit like girls.”
“Yeah? Speaking of girls where is Anna anyway, huh? Tired of you already, is she?”
“Don’t talk about my girlfriend.”
“You gonna stop me?”
“Enough!” Kyle stalked back into the small kitchen and shoved both of them hard. “Both of you need to pull your heads out of your asses.” He stopped and glanced at the stove. “Dinner ready?”
“Yes.”
“Why does Scotty get to play house and bake cookies while the rest of us bust our humps on the Internet?”
“Because he’s the only one who can make more than toast.” Kyle’s flashed his icy glower, the one that had made many a recruit soil his skivvies in SEAL boot camp. He got right up in Gage’s face and growled. “You got a problem with that?”
“No.” Gage stared straight ahead at the wall, spots of color dotting his high cheekbones. “No, sir.”
Scotty snorted then regretted it immediately as Kyle swiveled to face him, same glower, same effect. He straightened and steeled his expression, staring over his team leader’s shoulder.
“You think that’s funny, smartass?”
“No, sir. Absolutely not, sir.” He did his best to ignore Gage, who stood behind Kyle, giving Scotty the finger. “Not funny at all, sir.”
“Fucking right it’s not. I should beat you both for insubordination. Don’t think I can’t either.” He turned slightly and glanced sharply at Gage, who snapped to attention again. “Now get your lazy butts back to your assigned duties. Got it?”
“Sir, yes sir!” Scotty and Gage said in unison, both adding a salute just to be on the safe side.
Kyle stomped from the kitchen and Scotty gave Gage a nasty look before turning back to plate dinner for all of them. He’d spent his youth working in restaurants, first as a bus boy then as a line cook. Anything to help his mom pay the bills. He’d helped out in her dance studio too, sweeping floors and assisting with lessons when she needed a male partner. Hell if he’d let the guys know about that though. He took enough shit just by cooking.
As he dished out portions of veggies then pulled the roast from the oven and carved it up, some of his tension dissolved. Cooking relaxed him, helped relieve his stress—those were the main reasons he did it. That and you know, avoiding starvation. Once he had all the food served up, he transferred the full dishes to the nearby galley-style bar. “Food’s ready.”
“Awesome!” Spencer was the first taker, grabbing his food then returning to the living room and stuffing the first bite in his mouth before he’d even sat down again.
Kyle was next, followed by Gage, who made a point of glaring at Scotty the entire time he stood at the counter. Finally, there were only two plates left. His and Hayley’s. He picked them up, along with silverware and napkins then walked over to her secluded corner of the room.
“Hey,” he said, taking a seat on the loveseat beside her then setting the plates on the coffee table in front of him. “You need to eat something, Red.”
“In a minute.” She kept her attention on her computer screen. “I just want to finish this.”
Scotty studied her profile—the delicate way her nose turned up at the end, the full, luscious curve of her lips, the darkening bruise on her temple. Fuck it. He couldn’t go any longer without making sure for himself she was all right. He closed her laptop slowly with one finger, giving her time to pull her fingers out and give him a harsh stare.
“I was working.”
“I need to see you.” He took her hand, noticed it was trembling slightly, and pulled her to her feet. His condo was really more of an old warehouse, meaning basically one big open space. Only the bathroom had a separate door and, therefore, privacy. “Alone.”
“But what about our food?” She glanced around at the other guys, all of whom were too busy devouring their meal to pay them any attention. “What about the team—”
“I don’t care what they think.” Scotty tugged her behind him across the room. Then, just to prove his point, he shouted out, “We’ll be out in a minute, guys. Anyone who lays a hand on our grub will lose a digit.”
A chorus of disinterested grunts was the only response. Someone clicked on the flat screen TV and Scotty grinned. “See?”
Hayley looked supremely dubious, but followed him into the tiny bathroom.
There was room for a walk in shower, a small vanity with a sink, and a toilet. Not much else. He closed the door behind them and locked it, then leaned back against it, arms crossed. “So, how are you, Red?”
“Fine.” Nose wrinkled, she looked around the teeny space. “Not exactly a paradise around here, is it?”
“Paradise is what you make it.” Drawn by that invisible cord of connection between them, he moved closer, crowding her space, inhaling her strawberry scent. Jesus, he loved that scent. He placed his hands on her waist and held her still in front of him, his forehead to hers. “Did those bastards hurt you, Hayley?”
Eyes closed, she shuddered beneath his touch, her voice small and quiet. “No.”
“Why are you shaking?”
“Why are you holding me?”
He kissed her forehead, her russet brows, the lump where that bastard had smacked her with the gun. “Because I can’t help it.”
She tilted her back and to the side, allowing him better access to the long, graceful line of her throat. “Me neither.”
Groaning low in his throat, Scotty captured her lips with his, pulling her hips tight to his body, craving more—so much more—of her. He needed to stroke her creamy, freckled skin, taste the salty spice of her mouth, bury himself so deep inside her hot, silky wetness until he didn’t know where she stopped and he started.
Hayley wrapped her arms around his neck. He grasped her hips, lifting her up to sit on the vanity while he quickly removed both of their shirts and her bra. She bit her lip as he cupped her breasts in his hands, kneading them while his thumbs flicked over her hard nipples. Leaning closer, he stared down at her lovely curves, pure lust surging through his veins. “You are so gorgeous.”
“I’m not.” She shook her head then ran her fingertips over his chest and down his abs to the waistband of his jeans. “But you are.”