Finding Fate: An Intense, Fast-Paced Romantic Suspense Novel

by Kennedy L. Mitchell

  Using my legs as leverage, I wiggle against the floor to sit up. "You do know I'm better than you, right? I've been taught by the best whereas you, you're sloppy and untrained. It was simple once I figured out your biggest security flaw." Fingertips pressing against floor, I inch toward him.

  "Which is?" he says with restrained annoyance.

  "Right," I huff and scoot closer. "Like I'm going to tell you that. It’s the one piece of information I left behind. So no, this doesn't end with me. It ends with us."

  My hair pulls at the roots as he hauls my head back by my ponytail. "Fucking bitch! What is it?"

  "Screw you," I breathe and slam a foot into his shin. The grip on my hair releases as he stumbles backward, falling hard against the wall.

  The gun clatters to the floor.

  Right in front of me.

  Chapter 38

  Nash

  Today

  "The tracker's been stationary for over thirty minutes," Mac says on the other end of the line as I stare up at the warehouse where our tracker indicates the bastard has Pops. "I'm sending a few boys out there to check it out. Maybe she's scared and doesn't want to go through with it."

  Right. He has no idea how wrong he is if that's even a real thought. The Fate I know climbs out of windows to meet danger head on for a shot at saving the people she loves.

  A glance to Drake, who's inspecting the clip of his sidearm, and I sigh into the phone. "She won't be there." Drake snaps his clip into place and looks up, brows raised. "But I do know where she is."

  The anger and resentment in his tone after I rattle off the directions to the warehouse make me cringe. He does care for her, there's no doubt about that, but Drake was right in not telling them the full plan. More ways for this to go wrong the more bodies involved. Me, Drake, Pops and this dipshit are enough to worry about for now. Add in a team of overzealous FBI agents and this could turn into a firefight quick, with Pops caught in the middle.

  Plus I'm not the one who made this personal. He did, the coward up there holding a defenseless woman hostage, captive really. Hopefully the bargaining chip she gave me holds him off from hurting her before we move in.

  Speaking of....

  "Ready?" I say and toss the phone to the seat. "Let's do this."

  "Leave your damn emotions in the truck, Snowflake. No mistakes up there." With that line of encouragement, he opens the driver door and steps out into the early morning darkness.

  Guns drawn, we jog down the sidewalk toward the warehouse where the blinking dot indicates Pops is held. Of course it's the largest one on the entire block.

  Hand on Drake’s shoulder, I pull him to a halt. "It’ll take too long to search this entire place together," I whisper. "We need to split up."

  A nod and he fades into the shadows to secure the perimeter.

  Wow, that was easy. I really thought he'd give some kind of push back.

  Each second feels like an eternity as I clear each corner, every shadow. After the first floor, I move to the stairwell. Something hard clatters a floor or two above me, echoing through the desolate space. I creep up the concrete steps to the next floor and pause outside the door, looking through the long glass pane for movement.

  A scream snaps my attention up another floor, sending me bounding up the stairs. I don’t care about giving away my location, only finding the source. I quickly check through the glass before inching the door open. It’s almost closed when it's yanked back open. Swiveling around, gun drawn, I glare at the person now at my back.

  Wide-eyed, Matt stares down the barrel of my Glock, hands inching up toward the air in surrender. Drake steps into the doorway, shouldering past the scared-shitless FBI agent.

  "Found him waiting outside. Mac called him, told him to get here fast. We heard the scream. You think this level?"

  I nod, give a warning glare to Matt and turn to the open third floor. The three of us move in unison, protecting the others’ back as we secure the area. The last half of the space is sectioned off for offices of sorts.

  I put my fist in the air, and both men hold at my back and listen.

  Voices. Angry ones.

  We step through a door and down the long hall, clearing each room before moving on. The voices grow louder, a male and female, as we close in. Peering around the third to last office, I hesitate. I should step back, duck to cover and form a plan, but I can't. Arms up, I move around the corner to face the man who's holding a gun to the love of my life’s head.

  "Easy there, buddy," I say as I step farther into the room, hoping for a better angle. To make sure she's not hurt, to shoot him—I don't know, but I can't stop my feet. "Let's talk about this before you go and do—"

  I stop when I see the body on the floor beside them, dark glimmering shadows pooled beneath it. "Ah shit, man, you already did the something stupid. Well I guess that's the second stupid thing, considering your first offense was taking my girl. Now I have to kill you. No hard feelings."

  Through the bits of morning sun pouring through the dirty window, his wide eyes, trembling gun and sweaty brow give away his true terror. He knows he's done for, but I can't have him take Pops out with him.

  "Shut the fuck up and stop coming closer." For emphasis, he presses the gun, with a silencer—wonder how he got his hands on one of those—harder against Pops’s disheveled pink hair. But her gaze doesn't falter from mine. "I'll kill her."

  "Then I'll kill you, so it looks like we're in a pickle."

  "A pickle? A fucking pickle? My life is ruined because this dumbass bitch wouldn't fucking stop. It wasn’t my fault her sister was so damn gullible. Believe me, if I hadn’t found her, someone else would have. All I want is to disappear again. Make her tell me what gave me away, how she found me, and I’ll let her go. He wanted her dead not me. He’s the one who—”

  His scream of pain bounces off the plaster walls, almost drowning out the gun blast. The gun at her head falls for him to grip his side. Before it hits the ground, Pops is safely tucked behind me.

  Matt steps from the side door that opens to the adjoining office.

  "What the fuck was that?" I yell to him.

  "I had a clear shot and I took it." He shrugs as he holsters his gun.

  "You could’ve fucking hit her! Did you think of that, you bastard?"

  "Emotions, Snowflake," Drake drawls from behind me. "Keep them in check."

  The only thing I want to check is the fucker who put Pops in unnecessary danger. Check him right into the wall. Instead the idiot and I move toward the bleeding man writhing on the floor, guns aimed at his head. Soft words of comfort are said at my back, but I don't let my emotions get the best of me, keeping my focus on the issue at hand.

  Time for some answers. Squatting near his ashen, sweaty face, I ask, "Who's your inside man?" Each breath he takes seems painful, but I don't give a shit. "Who is it, dammit? Tell me and we'll get you to the hospital."

  Eyes locked with mine, his mouth opens but shuts at Matt saying, "The other agents are here. Someone needs to give them the all clear."

  Beside me, Matt grips my shoulder and looks to Pops. "And, Nash, she needs you, man. More than me. Let me do this."

  As much as I want to finish this guy off right here, right now, torture his accomplice’s identity from him, Matt's right; he can take it from here, and she needs me. And let’s be honest—I need her too.

  With a groan, I push off my knees to stand but hesitate. Matt shakes my shoulder. "Go on. Get the girl."

  When you put it that way.... In four steps she's wrapped in my arms, trembling against my chest. "You came," she says against me, but I can't feel a thing with this damn Kevlar on. "I'm okay if you need to—"

  "Stop." I slide the knife at my ankle free with ease and slice through the twist ties at her wrists and ankles. Immediately her hands are at her chest, massaging one wrist and then the other.

  Taking both delicate wrists in my hand, I rub along the indented red line with my thumbs. "I want to kill him just for this
." I bring the soft skin to my lips, placing a comforting kiss on each wrist. "One of many offenses he'll pay for."

  "I knew you'd find me. I just hoped it wasn't too late." Her eyes fall to the floor behind me, tears shimmering along the rims as she says, "He shot her for screaming. For knowing me. She's dead because she knew me." A single tear drips from her left eye when she looks back up to me. "She's dead."

  "So's he," Matt says at my back. "Must’ve nicked a lung or something."

  "Did you get anything out of him before?" Hopefully my joy at Matt’s statement doesn't come through in my reply. "We need confirmation on the man he's working with on the inside."

  "He didn't say a word. I did all the talking. Demanding, really," he says with a quick glance behind him, almost like he's double-checking the bastard is still dead. "She okay? Did he say anything to you, Fate? What the hell is this about an inside guy?"

  Every muscle tenses, urging me to reach out and pull her back against me when she moves away to look at Matt. "No." Turning those blue eyes to me, she continues. "But he did make it sound like there was someone else. And earlier, before this place, right before I blacked out from the drugs—"

  "Drugs? What kind of drugs? Are you okay? We need to get you to a hospital—"

  "Whoa," she says with a small smile. "Yeah, drugged, though I’m not sure what kind. Didn't get to read the label or have a second to ask what he gave me." While she talks, I scan every inch of her neck, pulling the ugly-ass shirt she's wearing to the side, giving me access to her shoulder. "My neck, I think." Helping, she reaches back and pulls up her thick pink hair. A small red dot stands out along her fair skin, as does the blood coming from her hair line.

  Smacking her hand away, I push her hair apart section by section, inspecting her scalp. "Did you hit your head?" I mumble while searching for the source of the tacky blood.

  "Yeah, hurt like hell. Worse than being pistol-whipped, if you can believe that."

  "The fact that you've been pistol-whipped and now have something to compare that pain level to isn't something I want to dwell on right now, Pops. I'm holding on to my sanity by a fucking thread as it is. Ah." I drag a finger along the gash and bump on the backside of her skull. "You might have a concussion. Come on, let's get you out of here."

  Out in the main part of the warehouse, twenty to thirty FBI agents fill the once-empty space, with one in particular barreling toward us and looking mad as hell.

  Oh shit. Though I deserve it really—well, me and Drake—for not filling him in on our plan. Because of that, I don't flinch or duck from his flying fist. And damn, does the man know how to hit.

  "What the hell?" Pops exclaims and steps between us.

  The hand not wrapped around hers massages my throbbing jaw. "Damn, man, you should look into boxing as a career. Hell, that hurt. Deserved, but still hurt." As a peace offering, I nudge Pops into his arms. Maybe seeing her safe, that it all worked out okay in the end, will ease his anger.

  Giving them a second, I step around them in search of Drake. I find him leaning against the far wall, staring out a large window. "How is she?" he asks without turning.

  Stepping beside him, I sigh and stare out to the rising sun. "Okay. Not great. It’s been a ride for her since she lost her sister. Now that it's done, I'm sure the reality of it all will come crashing down at some point, but I'll be there. I'll catch her, help her. She needs a medic. Knocked her head and that fucker drugged her."

  "Bastard. Hope you finished the job in there."

  "He's dead if that's what you're asking. Did you see the angle Matt had? Was it as clear as he's making it out to be?"

  Drake shrugs and turns. "I wouldn't have taken the shot, but he got the job done. They’ll do a full investigation since a fed fired a weapon, make sure it was a justified shot and kill. We can ask her boy in there to give us the report after. I texted Raider to let him know the threat to Liza and Mya's been taken care of. But until we get the CIA fucker to talk, I still want them to have protection detail." The secretive smile he wears gives away his next thought. "Raider sure didn't mind the extra time with your sister. Told me to take all the time I needed."

  "Fucker. If he touches her...."

  "He's a good man, great soldier and a hell of a better employee than you, Snowflake."

  "Jackwagon," I grumble, then turn to find Pops to haul her tiny ass into the approaching ambulance.

  Chapter 39

  Fate

  Today

  It seems like days since I entered the hospital via the ambulance Nash, Drake and Mac herded me into. If having two overly protective men in my life wasn't enough, now I have Daddy Drake to contend with too. Between the three of them, the opportunity to use the bathroom in privacy might never be an option again.

  I get it though. Well, for Nash. I've been beaten, drugged, kind of kidnapped and held captive more than any one person should be in a lifetime, and somehow I've managed to squeeze it all into the past six months.

  It's Nash who keeps reassuring me that I'm the victim here, not to blame for any of it, but even though I nod and smile at his words of encouragement, I know the truth. And the truth is everything that's been brought to me I've asked for. Begged for, almost. From my time in Africa to here, I'm the idiot who thought she could make a difference, change something in this crooked world. But I can't. There will always be someone bigger and stronger out there who will win, and I'll just be some forgotten name on a list of casualties to their destruction.

  Like Destiny.

  Like Mom.

  Like the blue-eyed girl.

  Like the woman’s screams I'll never not hear.

  Like Lauren.

  I am a casualty, not a victim. But I don't tell him that. No, I want him to have hope that this all will fade and someday my life will right itself and turn around. A fool’s hope, but still, I let him have it. I'll let him have anything but the one thing I want to give him, that I know I can't. I want us to live happily ever after, for him to get the girl, for the princess to find her prince. But this isn't a fairy tale—this is real life, and it's ugly, hostile, sad.

  At least mine is. And I'm an idiot to think it would ever be anything else.

  I watch as his chest rises and lowers in deep, relaxed sleep beside me in my hospital bed. The nurses scolded him for climbing in beside me, but one devilish smirk of his and all was forgiven.

  Smiling, I brush a lock of hair from his forehead and trace a dark brow. In reflex, his arm tightens around my waist, pulling me tighter to his hard chest. He hasn't left since I was admitted twenty-four hours ago. Sat with me through all the questions, tests and blood work, holding my hand and scowling at any tech, nurse or doctor who caused me pain.

  I love him.

  More than love him. My heart physically hurts at the thought of not spending the rest of my life with him. Spent in his arms, being cherished and loved through life’s challenges. He'd do it too—give all of himself, give everything to me so I can live and be happy. I’d bet my life on it.

  But at what point will it stop being enough? When will he realize I'm not worth the risk anymore?

  Just as the thought passes, those brown eyes flicker open and stare into mine.

  "I can almost feel you thinking," he says with a stretch before settling lengthwise against me. "You need to sleep."

  Glancing out the window, I stare at the long row of glowing streetlights. "Can't."

  "Hey." Fingers gripping my chin, he turns my gaze back to his. "Stop. I've told you you're not getting rid of me, and I won’t let you go. Don't you get it, Pops?” I shake my head, entranced by the soft glow in his eyes. "I had no idea what love was until you came along. I thought it was a fading thing where you could step away and never look back, but you, with you, with us, you're my air. You're essential to me living. This isn't love. This is life, and you're it. So stop thinking you won't be a part of it, because, Pops, the only way for you to ruin my life is by walking out of it."

  "Nash, I—"

&n
bsp; "Stop overthinking everything." A mischievous smirk pulls at his lips before turning sinister. "And I think I know what you need." Keeping his eyes locked with mine, a hand snakes under the covers and dips under my hospital gown, slowly sliding up my inner thigh.

  "Nash," I breathe, unable to say stop because that's the last thing I want. I do need this, him and the reminder of who we are together. Thank goodness the nurses unhooked all the monitors earlier, readying me to be sent home later this afternoon.

  "Yeah, Pops?"

  The lightest of brushes between my thighs pushes a gasp past my lips. "Don't stop."

  "Wasn’t planning on it."

  He bends over my chest, his teeth latching onto my hard nipple through the sheet and gown. The slightest of tugs sends a wave of euphoria through my veins.

  "More," I beg. "Never stop, Nash. Never let me go. Please don't ever go." No longer under my control, my fingers thread into his long hair, urging him on.

  A growl of approval vibrates against my breast as he slides one finger inside me, then another.

  "Damn, I want to fuck you so bad."

  "Do it," I groan as I shift against his fingers, moving the tip of his thumb against my bundle of nerves faster and harder.

  "Can't." He chuckles at my disapproving whimper. "If any of those nurses catch us in the act, they'll kick me out and I can't have that. Besides, this is about you. Relax and enjoy, Pops."

  So I do. Every glide of his finger, flick of his thumb, I devour and commit to memory. My breathing grows rapid, every second inching me closer and closer to release.

  "Miss. Haley."

  What the...?

  My breathing stills, but beneath the blankets, his fingers continue to stroke me from the inside.

  "We should be all set for discharge in an hour or so. And, sir, we told you no sleeping in bed with her," the nurse chides.

  Nash smiles at her. "Sorry, doll, just needed to be closer to my girl here. Just a few more minutes, okay? Then I'll climb down. Scout’s honor."