“I don’t know…the exact…address,” Steven wheezed. “It’s out on the edge of town, near the desert.”
Mitch had no intention of cutting any deals, but a little motivation might get Steven to cooperate. “You still want a career in Hollywood? You better show us where this warehouse is. Then and only then will I cut you a deal.”
“But—” Steven whispered, his Adam’s apple bobbing under Mitch’s knuckles.
Mitch slammed Steven’s head one more time against the fancy bathroom wall. “No buts. Your friend Cole is dead, possibly murdered. Megan and Toby are missing. You know what they all have in common? You. You’re coming with us, and you better hope to God Megan is okay.”
He loosened his grip and stepped back, dragging Steven off the velvet wallpaper.
Steven rubbed his throat and shook his head. “You’re too late,” he snarled. “He’s going to kill her.”
“Not if we can help it,” Caroline said, holding the bathroom door open.
Mitch shoved Steven through it, and together with Caroline, hustled him out of the penthouse and downstairs to a waiting cab.
* * *
“Is that it?” Mitch said, pointing to the warehouse coming up on their right.
The place was desolate, deserted. “That’s the one,” the cabbie responded. Apparently there were plenty of deserted and abandoned buildings in this border area of town. Plenty of film companies making movies out here on occasion. The taxi driver, a zombie fan, knew them all.
“Text Grey and give them the coordinates,” Mitch told Caroline. “I’m going in.”
“Already done.” She pulled a handgun from under her dress and Mitch’s mind exploded with a combination of lust and good old-fashioned pride in his tough, sexy partner. “And you’re not going in without me. Partners, remember?”
The taxi bounced over some deep ruts to get into the parking lot. No lights in the lot and only a faint sliver of moon, showing him the warehouse was three stories, complete with broken windows and rotting wood steps.
Perfect. Nice and creepy.
“Someone has to stay with dipshit, here.” He grabbed the door handle and popped it open before the cab came to a full stop. “Get Grey to send backup.”
Bailing from the taxi, he ran in a half-crouch to the side of the building and listened. He could hear sobs coming from inside. A woman’s sobs.
Megan. Still alive.
Following the sound of her sobs, he wound around to the backside of the building and found a broken window on the first floor. Peeking in, he saw Megan, Miss #SinCityBitch, tied to a chair under a naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Toby paced in front of her, going in and out of the dull, yellow light thrown from the bulb.
“Shut up!” he ground out. “You know I have to do this.”
“I won’t talk,” Megan argued, her voice shaking with tears. “I swear, I won’t tell anyone.”
“This is all Steven’s fault.” Toby turned to pace away and that’s when Mitch’s blood ran cold. Light glinted off a gun in the guy’s hand. “If he’d just left you alone like I told him,” he said, his footfalls kicking up dust particles that flickered in the circle of light. “He fucked up everything. Everything!”
He turned on his heels again and marched back to Megan, raising his gun.
Mitch couldn’t wait for backup. He boosted himself up onto the back delivery dock and kicked in the warehouse door.
He was halfway through the door when a gun went off.
10
Caroline crouched behind the desk near the entry door of the warehouse, her finger still on the trigger of her nine-millimeter and her hands buzzing from the blast of the weapon.
Twenty yards in front of her, the bullet she’d fired less than a second ago had connected with the back of Toby’s left shoulder.
“Aaarrgggg,” he wailed, his body pitching forward then bowing backward.
She’d aimed at center mass, but in the time it took her to squeeze back the trigger, he’d spun away—if Caroline guessed right—to shoot Megan.
And that wasn’t happening.
Caroline slid her gaze to Megan, arms pinned to her sides by rope and her face stretched in agony while she screamed loud enough to shatter the concrete walls.
Yow. The girl could yell.
With all that screaming, maybe Caroline should have waited outside with Steven rather than cuffing him to the stair rail. But being stuck outside while Mitch got to play didn’t seem fair. What fun would that have been?
In front of her, the exact middle between Caroline and Megan, Toby shook his head and glanced down at the front of his shoulder.
He whipped back, scanning the area where the bullet had come from. Bingo, he spotted her, his eyes lit with a feral panic. In Caroline’s experience, that was never good with someone holding a weapon. A burst of energy roared into her brain and her pulse kicked—buhm-buhm-buhm. The pungent smell of damp garbage soured her stomach and she held her breath a second, exhaling slowly.
Stay calm.
Weapon at the ready, she focused on Toby’s right hand and the .45 still in it. Big weapon for such a little weasel. Don’t shoot at me, you moron. “Drop that weapon! On the ground! Now!”
He raised the gun and her mind exploded. Move. Fire. No dying today.
“Don’t.”
Mitch’s voice. Toby zipped around again to see Mitch with both hands gripping the Sig Sauer he’d treated himself to recently. With his back to her now, Toby was a good twenty feet away from him. Mitch may not have had her sniping skills, but he was a damned good shot and he wouldn’t miss from that distance.
Caroline sprung from her crouch. “Drop it, Toby. On the ground.”
He shook his head, the movement fast and unsettling.
Then he focused on her again, those eyes still wild from panic and pain. “I need an ambulance.”
He needed way more than that.
“Get on the ground,” Mitch said, “and you’ll get it.”
He dropped his chin to his chest, shook his head slightly and looked up again.
“Don’t be stupid,” Caroline said. “You’re bleeding and need a doctor. Just drop it.”
Finally, Toby set his weapon on the floor and raised his good arm.
“Kick it away from you,” Caroline said.
Toby nudged the weapon with his foot, then stepped back. His version of kicking it, she supposed. As long as he was away from that giant .45, it didn’t matter.
Mitch scooped up the .45. “Got it.”
“Thanks,” she said. “It’s about time you got here.”
Some things she just couldn’t resist. Provoking Mitch was definitely one of them. If their relationship rules prevailed he’d fire back and the teasing, the gentle competition, like most things with them, turned to foreplay. A ridiculous aphrodisiac to most, but not to them.
Then again, they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other.
“Babe,” he said, “how’d you miss that shot?”
Ah, yes. My man. She lifted the side of her mouth into a smug grin. “Who said I missed?”
Mitch rolled his eyes again, knowing full well she’d missed. “Right. Whatever you say.”
Tied to the chair, her eyes big and round and more than a little freaked, Megan cleared her throat. “Um, can someone untie me?”
Her blond hair was a ratty, tangled mess and her short dress hung in long, torn pieces on one side.
Bastards.
She must have put up a hell of a fight. Good for her.
Caroline jerked her head in Megan’s direction. “Go ahead, Mitch. Toby has three seconds to get on the ground before I shoot him again.”
Immediately he dropped to the floor, wincing as he went. Puh-lease.
“I’m sure it hurts,” Caroline said, zero sympathy lacing her voice. “Now, tell us how Megan wound up in that chair with her dress shredded and you get an ambulance.”
“We were partying. I swear.”
“Liar!” Megan
shrieked. “They drugged me.”
Mitch loosened her bindings and squatted in front of her. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, those big blue eyes on him. Hero worship. Women sometimes reacted that way. Caroline never worried about it. Heck, most of the time she had her own case of hero worship.
Toby lifted his head. “It wasn’t me. It was Steven.”
Megan launched from the chair in an impressive show of athleticism. Not an easy thing after being tied up, but she wanted a piece of Toby. Caroline didn’t blame her.
Mitch scooped her around the waist and held her feet off the ground. Unfortunately for him, she kicked out and momentum sent her heel crashing back into his shin.
Megan one, Mitch zero.
“Ow!” he said. “Knock it off. Let’s not get you an assault charge. From me or him.”
Good old Mitch. Who said he was missing a sensitivity chip?
Caroline pursed her lips and met Mitch’s gaze. “Seems to me we can fix this lickety-split. I mean, seeing as I have Steven cuffed to the railing outside.”
Mitch gave her a winning smile. “Well hell, get him in here.”
Missing chip and all, one had to love Mitch’s sense of adventure. Together they made an unbeatable and highly twisted pair.
Leaving Mitch to cover Toby-the-weasel, Caroline strode to the door, her high heels clapping against the filthy concrete. She pushed open the door and heat, even now, blasted her.
She peered down at the railing and the empty plastic zip tie she’d secured Steven with.
He’s gone.
Where, where, where?
“Dammit.”
She swung her head left, spotted him sprinting toward the edge of the building and raised her weapon.
“Hold it!”
He kept moving. Of course he did. Criminals were just plain annoying.
Most FBI agents went their entire careers without discharging a weapon. Caroline? She’d lost count how many times she’d had to fire. In her defense, being a former SWAT sniper had ratcheted up her numbers.
Steven neared the edge of the building—dammit. She aimed, let out half a breath, drew back the trigger and—boom—fired.
The bullet hit Steven square on his right butt cheek. Right where she’d aimed. He stumbled forward, hobbling on the right leg.
“Just give in, idiot,” she muttered.
He reached back, set his hand over his butt cheek and screamed.
Caroline hopped off the stoop, no easy feat in the killer heels, and approached him. “Don’t move. Stay right there. Hands up.”
His hands—one of them blood-smeared—rose into the air. At least he’d learned to follow directions. Too bad a bullet in the ass had to get him there.
“Now, slowly, walk toward me. We’re going inside.”
Weapon trained, she ushered him inside.
“Jesus,” Mitch said, “you shot him too?”
“He tried to run. Now he has a bullet in his butt.”
“Twisted, but I love you.”
Caroline blew him a kiss. “Love you, too.”
“I don’t understand,” Toby said. “I thought you two just met.”
“We lied.” Mitch and Caroline said.
Caroline gave Steven a light shove. “On the floor. Next to weasel boy.”
“I’m shot.”
Mitch pointed at Toby. “So is he, dumbass. As soon as you two tell us what you did to Megan, we’ll call an ambulance.”
“We have rights,” Steven said.
At that, Mitch laughed. “Again with the rights? You fuckwads kidnapped a senator’s daughter. Nobody gives a shit about your rights.”
“But,” Caroline added, “whoever plays nice, might have a chance at a reduced sentence. That might be doable.”
The two men swung their heads to each other—one, two, three—and it started. The explosion of voices, each blaming the other and hurling insults, all of it echoing in the massive empty warehouse.
Mitch whistled loud enough to silence them. Just bang. Immediate silence. My man.
He pointed at Steven. “You. Shut up. Toby. Go.”
Being a good little boy, Toby rolled to his good side to face Mitch. “Cole and Steven drugged her. They wanted to bang her.”
Evil bastards. Caroline kicked the bottom of Steven’s feet hard enough to make that bullet in his rear holler. He squealed and she gave him a second cuff on the foot. “Be glad that’s all I did to you. I’m rethinking the whole shooting you in the butt thing.”
Steven lifted his head. “He sold us the roofies!”
Mitch squatted between the two men. “Who? Toby?”
“Yes!”
“Liar. Cole is the dealer,” Toby said. “He sold them to Steven. When he realized it was Megan that Steven used them on, he called me. Freaking out that he’d get tossed off the show. Ya think? I told him I’d get Megan sobered up.”
How was it possible that three seemingly intelligent men could add up to such stupidity? It shouldn’t have surprised her. She’d been around criminals most of her career and yet, each time, the lowest level of humanity stunned her.
In direct opposition, there stood Mitch Monroe, Captain Sarcastic, a man that drove her to madness ninety percent of the time. But, unlike the waste of male species on the floor, Mitch respected women. More than that, he was stubborn enough to go to war for justice. To protect victims.
And she’d been hassling him about her mother.
Nice work, Caroline.
Spidey-sense kicking in, he glanced up at her, tilting his full and perfect lips into a questioning frown. Later, she’d remind him, via those lips, just how much she loved him.
She stepped over to Toby, gave him a nudge on the foot. “Why would you protect these morons?”
“The show! Do you know how hard it is to get a show to a network? Nothing was keeping us off the air.”
Mitch stood, stretching his long legs and setting his hands on his hips. “You know what I think?”
Oh, goodie. She loved when Mitch asked that. Something wacky always followed. “What?”
“I think you should shoot them for being stupid fucks.”
She pondered it. “I suppose I could, but…nah…not worth it.”
“You’re right. Let’s call the cops. That makes these dumbasses their problem and we get a vacation in Vegas.” Mitch pointed a finger at Steven’s face, remembering their first encounter. “Although, I’d still love an excuse, any excuse, to break his nose.”
“I have better things you can do with those hands.” Caroline smiled.
Now that was a plan.
11
Mitch was sweating bullets. Fucking Las Vegas heat.
Of course, it wasn’t the heat. Not really. He was sweating bullets because he was about to do something irreversible. Something that would definitely change his life for the better.
He hoped.
After a thorough medical check deemed her healthy, Megan was now winging her way home to Washington D.C. and her father was happy with the Justice Team for solving the case without stirring up the press. Megan was doing a fine job of that all on her own and a cable network had already offered her a movie-of-the-week deal to tell her story. #SinCityBitch was back in business.
Cole’s death had been ruled a homicide, and the investigation was pointing to Steven. Hotel security cameras had captured his mug going in and out of Cole’s room around the time of death. The same time Toby was in the bar watching Megan talk to @BadAssOne.
Yes, Steven might get his own TV show after all. At the very least, he’d probably be on Forensic Files or Dateline NBC.
Grey, having owed Caroline a little time off after her undercover op, suggested she and Mitch stay in Vegas for an extra day or two. Mitch suspected the pussy was too scared to face him.
But he’d have to in…Mitch checked his watch…forty minutes and counting.
Reservation for two. Yessiree. With Grey and Syd joining them.
Caroline’s face
was still all over the gossip rags and internet magazines. Without the makeup, big hair, and slutty clothes, though, no one on the street recognized her. Thank God. She was back in her sensible shoes and tight-fitting clothes.
Mitch loved her both ways. She was the sexiest, most badass woman he’d ever met, and there would never be anyone else for him. If anyone deserved the @BadAssOne Twitter handle, it was his woman.
Damn, he was proud of her. Dressing like a porn star and going undercover on a reality TV series was a nightmare for someone like Caroline. She liked being behind a gun, not in front of a camera. While she never complained, he knew it took a piece of her soul to see herself being paraded as a slutty, brainless woman who only wanted a man to make her complete.
The bathroom door opened and she appeared in the doorway, wearing a simple red T-shirt and jeans. “Ready? I hope that Jeep has air-conditioning. I don’t think I can stand a tour of Hoover Dam without it.”
Mitch had scored a nice room at Dominion—big bed, room service, a shower for two with those massage jets Caroline loved—and had told her Grey was paying for it.
Which wasn’t true. Mitch had a stash of cash he’d used when he was on the run as a fugitive. A big chunk had never been used. Blowing it on a room that made Caroline happy was the best thing he could think to spend it on.
And maybe a special T-shirt for both of them.
“We’re not taking the Jeep tour,” he told her.
“Oh, God. Tell me we’re not doing that walking tour you were looking at yesterday. It’s too damn hot, Mitch.”
“I rented a limo.”
Her mouth popped open, and for half a second, his mind wandered to how and what she’d used it on last night. When they were in bed. Naked. And then again in the shower that morning.
And…he had to mop his forehead with his hanky.
“How can you be sweating in here?” Caroline asked, checking the thermostat. “My toes are ice cubes. You’ve got the AC set on subarctic.”
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