He was more than cool. He was ice-cold with the eyes of a killer, getting in the zone. His pose was solid—arms slightly raised, palms facing up, muscles bunched, jaw clenched.
I wondered if I was actually in any danger at all with him by my side. I almost felt sorry for anyone who tried to mess with him.
He came around to my side of the aisle, standing protectively behind me. The presence of his reassuring frame shadowed me, making me invisible to anyone standing behind him.
His arms circled me protectively as we moved towards the exit.
Suddenly, his pace quickened and he came to my side now, ushering me towards the gate. Crowds of people seemed to part as he strode through.
“Ain’t got time to get the bags, Scar. We need to get the fuck outta here, right now. Stay cool, okay?”
I felt a twinge of panic in my stomach and started looking around, wondering what Travis had seen. I tried to breathe slowly in through my nose and out through my mouth, imitating him. Soon, I started to feel a relaxed and almost meditative calm come over me as we reached our car.
I didn’t know a great deal about cars, but this one was sleek. A black Mercedes coupe—smaller than the large saloon we’d had in Paris, but just as luxurious. The car looked both sleek and mean.
A vision of Travis in his suit the night before rose into my mind.
“Gotta thank your dad for this when we get back. AMG.” He patted the car as he opened the door to let me in, shielding me with his body. “If they keep up, I’ll be amazed.”
As soon as I was in the car, Travis jumped across the hood and was in the driver's seat a second later.
“Was that really necessary?” I said. “Show-off.”
His face was hard. “Hold on to something, Scar. But not my cock this time.”
Moments later, I was stunned into silence as the car roared from the terminal, tires screaming and smoke billowing from them as we sped away at breakneck speed.
I was left breathless at the raw power of the car as I was thrown back into the bucket sports seat. I held onto the door’s armrest for dear life.
CHAPTER 25
Travis
As we were leaving the place, I’d seen a few figures following us. I recognized one of the Russians who I’d bumped into on the flight to Paris. There were at least three others, and probably more lurking in the shadows.
They were close. This was it. It was time to stop thinking.
The sheer power of the car I drove was even a shock to me. I’d done getaway driving in the past, but this car was something else.
As I accelerated out onto the main road, tires and loud engines revved behind me. Two cars were on my tail, swerving around shocked drivers.
The game was up now. I just had to be one step ahead. Set up the first meeting so it went in my favor.
I felt sorry for Scarlett in the passenger seat as I barely made it through a red light, swerving violently right across a large intersection. The tires cried out as they kept the car on the road, back end tailing out as we sped around the corner. I eased off the accelerator until the car righted itself, and then slammed my foot down.
We shot forward again, the road ahead clear. Two cars followed, slightly farther behind now; they had obviously run the red light.
I visualized the map of the city I’d spent time memorizing, looking around for landmarks. I was fairly sure I knew where we were. I was heading towards a hotel I knew had an underground car park.
If I could get there first…
I reasoned that it would give me a few minutes at least. Enough time to get to a room.
I was unarmed, but the first bad guy to get near me would solve that problem. I would simply break his arm and take his gun. Easy. I’d done it plenty of times before. Might even shoot him if he looks at me funny.
The lights at the huge intersection a little way down the road were red, and traffic was backed up. I braked sharply and swerved into a narrow side street for a quick detour, dodging a couple market stalls and a few pedestrians who looked at me, shocked.
Guess I ain't meant to drive down here. Too late now.
I reached the end of the narrow road, braking slightly as I scanned for traffic. A car was approaching to my right, slower than necessary. I put my foot down. I didn't have time to wait.
A horn beeped behind me.
“Fuck off,” I yelled over my shoulder. “Learn to fucking drive!”
The car shot forward, leaving our pursuers behind for dust. I took another sharp right a little while longer. Our tail was nowhere to be seen; I hoped they were sitting behind a red light somewhere.
The hotel I had in mind wasn’t far. I accelerated viciously at the next clear section of road just before I heard the wail of sirens in the distance.
Great. Just what I needed. I was actually glad to see the police this time because they would be just as much of a hindrance to my followers as they would be to me.
I needed all the help I could get.
Deciding on another shortcut, I turned down a narrow side road. Thankfully, this one was clear. My car gripped wonderfully as I threw it around the bends of the winding road. Adrenaline coursed through my veins.
I risked a sideways glance at Scarlett as I slowed for the junction. She looked like she was going to be sick.
“Almost there now, babe,” I said.
The junction was clear as I tore across it, the sound of the car’s engine echoing noisily off the surrounding buildings. The hotel was at the end of the next narrow road. Or at least I hoped so. Otherwise, we were screwed and would possibly have to run the fuckers over. I’d never done that before, although some part of me thought it might be fun.
I swerved onto the road approaching the hotel and turned violently into the underground car park. I stuck the car as far back as I could, out of sight behind a massive SUV.
I ran to Scarlett’s door, helping her out.
“Can you tell me what the fuck that was all about? You nearly got us killed!” she screamed.
“No time. Let's go.” I grabbed her arm and rushed towards the stairs to the hotel, stopping briefly to grab her bag.
We were checked in and on the top floor in a matter of minutes.
CHAPTER 27
Scarlett
I turned on him as we got into the room. “Travis, now isn’t the time to go silent on me. Tell me what the fuck is going on!”
“Now ain’t the time. I need to think,” he said, his gaze fixed on the door.
Emotion rose within me. Selfish indignation. I began to wonder if he even cared about me or had just used me the previous night. I worried that his charm had been false and suddenly, I felt scared and lonely in his company for the first time.
“Do you even care, or was everything last night just fake?” I asked in a low voice. “Are you going to just fuck off when your job’s done? Answer me, Travis!”
He clenched his jaw. “I can’t keep you safe if you’re shouting at me! I need a minute!”
“Fuck off then. Just do what you’ve been paid to do.” I turned on my heels and headed for what I hoped was a bedroom, warm tears unexpectedly falling down my face.
What is up with me? I wondered, hastily wiping them away. More importantly, what the fuck is up with Travis? Switches his emotions off and on like a light bulb.
I got to the main bedroom and stepped inside, slamming the door behind me.
Travis
My head was swimming and I desperately needed to focus.
All day, Scarlett had been all I could think about. I was obsessed. Her proximity to me, her smile, her smell—it all drove me crazy.
Needing some distance from her, I let her storm off. I’d give her a minute while I waited to see if we’d been followed all the way to the hotel. Then I would go explain.
But first, I needed a drink. My nerves were in tatters.
A feeling of unease came over me as the adrenaline from the car chase began to fade. I backed away from the door, keeping my body facing
it at all times.
I poured whiskey into a glass from a decanter to my left. There was no ice, and this was my fourth glass. But at the moment, I didn’t care. I took a gulp, pleased at the burn as it went down.
After a minute or two, I sighed.
Time to go and see little miss stressy pants, I guess.
I didn’t blame Scarlett for her outburst. It hadn’t even bothered me, really. I knew she was scared, lonely, and probably homesick by now. But I’d felt an overwhelming urge to keep her safe, which had momentarily overshadowed everything else.
With one last glance at the front door, I strode to the room she’d holed herself up in and knocked.
“Scar, it’s me, doll.” But I received no answer. I knocked again. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. Let me in so we can talk.”
I tried the handle, pushing at the door. It was open…
Ice-cold dread seeped into my stomach. I dropped my whiskey, glass shattering and contents splashing across the floor.
The room was empty.
Scarlett
I turned to face the center of the bedroom after making a show of slamming the door as hard as I could.
My vision was blurred with tears, but I could still make out the shape of three big, dark figures in the room around me. I froze, instinctively.
Before I had time to scream, a rough hand had grabbed me from behind. I bit the hand as hard as I could and heard angry Russian words close to my ear.
Before I could react any further, my mouth was quickly taped and my hands were tied roughly behind my back with strong duct tape.
I remembered, probably from some survival book or movie, to ball my fists and tense my muscles as they were bound. Consequently, I still had circulation and could move my hands slightly.
One of the men knelt at my feet, preparing to bind my feet too, but struggled with the tape. Another Russian gestured angrily at his watch.
The kneeling Russian’s face was deliciously close to my knee…
I smashed it into his face as hard as I could, satisfied when he reeled back, grunting. Blood poured from his nose.
These guys had it all wrong if they thought I was going to make this easy.
The largest of the three pushed the one in front of me away and roughly grabbed my legs, while the other completed the task of taping my legs together.
All the while, I stared triumphantly at the man whose nose I’d hopefully broken. He glared back angrily, not even bothering to stem the flow of blood.
The last thing I saw was him standing up before a burlap sack was put roughly over my head. I couldn’t see anything as I was carried from the room.
I panicked, feeling disorientated. The whole kidnap had taken just over a minute. Or at least so I thought; my perception of time was next to useless.
Travis
I surveyed the room, eyes jumping between points of interest. There was little disturbance, except for a pool of congealing blood near the center of the room.
Good girl. Don’t make it easy for them.
A window was open, the curtain billowing softly in a cool breeze. Whether they’d actually entered through the window, I had no idea. Could be a fire escape there, I guessed.
I heard the sound of heavy footsteps out in the living room, heading slowly into the corridor…
Boots. A Russian. He was armed. I wasn’t.
I waited for my would-be assassin to enter the bedroom, turning slowly as I did so.
I suppressed the burning rage growing in my chest, switching it off like a light. I breathed deeply, rolling my shoulders to loosen the muscles.
The Russian turned the corner, his gun extended. He was a few feet away from the entrance.
Clever bastard.
He moved slowly. Professionally. Probably was an ex-KGB.
“Ah, Constantine.” I recognized him from the plane.
He grinned viciously as he saw the recognition on my face. His left eye was half-closed, the other staring at me through his silver Tokarev pistol.
“If you don’t give me some useful information, I will kill you slowly.” His face turned dark as he stepped closer, his gun inches from my heart. “Talk now, American.”
I was relaxed. Composed. Motionless. “Okay. I’ll talk. I have some information that you might find important.”
His eyebrow raised as he looked into my eyes. I saw a gleam of excitement on his ugly face and knew he thought he was going to be able to kill me and return with vital information.
Now was my chance.
I had been standing in a fighter’s stance, my right foot slightly forward, weight favoring my good left knee. In an instant, I swiveled my torso to the right, my heart moved out of the line of fire in a fraction of a second. I knew a gunshot then would be painful and probably collapse my lung if he was quick, or merely graze my ribs if I was lucky.
But I had caught him off-guard. My hand shot to his gun arm like lightning, pushing the weapon away from my body. The gun bucked and a shot rang loud. A bullet sliced through the skin of my left arm, feeling like nothing more than a scratch from Scarlett’s nails.
I pushed my powerful thumb into his palm, savagely forcing the gun from his grip. As was usual in these situations, he focused on holding onto the gun. As soon as it was out of harm's way, it was next to useless, especially against someone like me. If I was holding the gun, I would have dropped it, surprising my assailant. I’d then follow it up with either a headbutt or palm to the bridge of the nose. Then I’d draw out my combat knife.
It would have been over in two seconds.
With his focus on the gun, I turned my back to him, pulling his arm over my massive shoulder. I pulled his palm down to my waist, using my shoulder as a pivot. His elbow shattered with a sickening crack. He screamed in agony behind me.
I followed up with a backwards elbow into his ribs, violently cracking his bones. He reeled back from the blow, but I wasn’t finished with him yet.
Pivoting on my feet, I laid into him iron fists. Two, three, four, five body blows to the chest and abdomen.
Ribs cracked, collarbone smashed, he collapsed to the floor.
I stood over him, breathing steadily as he writhed in pain below me.
“Oh, yeah,” I spat, “as I was saying, I’ve got some information for you.” I then kicked him savagely in the gut. “If you don’t tell me where she is now, I’m going to break your fucking legs. And then I’m going to strangle you to death.”
“You fucking American! Fuck off!” he cried, delirious with pain. He half-laughed and half-cried as he spat a torrent of filthy-sounding Russian words at me.
I jumped into the air, my full weight coming down onto his knee. A satisfying crack and a loud pop resounded through the room, followed by his impossibly louder screams.
“Last fucking chance!” I said, barely checked rage building within me. An image of Scarlett being dragged away against her will formed in my mind.
The Russian sobbed in front of me. Pathetic.
I went back into the room to grab his gun. I checked the chamber, seeing that it was loaded. On the way out of the building I coldly shot him between the eyes.
Then I heard the sound of distant sirens.
“I told you that you wouldn’t be fucking breathing if I saw you again. Same goes for your friends. They’re all dead men.”
CHAPTER 26
Scarlett
I was bundled into a small space with no idea where I was. The sack was removed from my head. It then dawned on me that I was in the trunk of a car.
Great.
The door slammed shut and the space became airless, instantly making me feel claustrophobic. An image of Travis came to my mind, and I tried to find comfort in it. I took slow steadying breaths and thought about the safety I felt in his arms. Convincing myself that I would somehow return to those comforting arms, a wave of calm washed over me.
The sound of the car’s engine chugging to life reached me in the trunk. I tried to stay calm, but it ha
d suddenly become that much more difficult. Yet, I vowed this would be the first and last time I ever traveled in the trunk of a car.
As my captors quickly drove off, I distracted myself with thoughts of Travis and our activities the night before…
Travis
I left the building by the fire escape, my newly acquired gun hidden down the back of my black combat pants. I kept my left hand on the grip as I sprinted into a dark alleyway nearby, my eyes darting left and right as I crossed the road outside the hotel.
No sign of anyone.
I supposed they’d thought one unarmed guy couldn’t beat an armed ex-KGB assassin. But that was understandable; this was the first time they’d dealt with Travis James. And it will also be the last.
I slowed my stride to a jog, breathing deeply as I paced myself.
I had memorized my Prague contact’s number and decided to jog for a few minutes before finding a payphone. I doubted that I was being followed now they had Scarlett, so my last advantage was their arrogance. They would pay dearly for assuming I was a dead man.
My mind focused, I began planning my attack, letting my brain process the details as I ran.
Location. Numbers. Weapons at my disposal.
After a brief stop at an ATM and then a small store to get a can of Coke and some chocolate for an energy boost, I found an old payphone that was luckily still working. I dialed the number from memory, breathing steadily. The run had cleared my mind, loosened my muscles, and expanded my lungs. I felt good.
The phone rang for a few seconds before a click as it was answered. And then there was silence.
“It’s me. I need some help. I’m calling in that favor,” I said.
A voice protested at the other end of the phone, saying something about me not knowing how bad these guys were.
“I don’t give a shit! Tell me what I need to fucking know. Now!”
I heard fear in his voice as he gave me the location—an old abandoned farmhouse out of the city. Not far. He paused, then reeled off a few details about Scarlett’s captors and my French contact’s whereabouts. Hearing clearly that he was more scared of him than the Russians, I couldn’t help wondering what my contact had said to him.
Ruthless Hero: A Military Bodyguard Romance (Savage Soldiers Book 6) Page 9