The Titan Series: Military Romance Boxed Set

by Cristin Harber

  “Oh, that’s great. Thanks.”

  The line disconnected. Shoot, she hadn’t meant to sound hopeful. Mia passed the phone to Juan Carlos and found him studying her.

  His fingertips tapped again. “What is great?”

  “Nothing. He just re-assured me everything would work out.”

  With a disgusted grin, he groused. “How cute.”

  Her fingers pleated into the skirt of the sundress. Now what?

  Juan Carlos took a sip of his coffee and beckoned to Alejandro. “Return her to the room. And do not take her yet. Damaged goods won’t help me get that disk.”

  She felt damaged already. But the wounds on her skin weren’t what he meant. The lust in Alejandro’s eyes didn’t bode well for Mia. He seemed to weigh the options—listen to his boss or deal with the consequences, and he didn’t appear too concerned about the consequences. Mia fought to swallow the terror choking off her airway.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The satellite phone rang in the jet somewhere over the Caribbean Sea. Winters would’ve answered it if he could’ve, a thousand questions at the ready. Instead, he was sentenced to a flight where every man trained their gaze on him, unsure if he’d ratchet down his fury. Their plan was based on strategic assumptions and scientific wild-ass guesses, but cartel kingpins didn’t always behave according to plan.

  Jared hit the speakerphone button. “Give us something good, Parker.”

  “Good? Hell, I’ll give you fan-freakin’-tastic. Mia called our headquarters. I’m sure she knew I wasn’t Winters but never let on. She kept her cool, described her location, and I checked a few things out. You guys are headed to the right locale.”

  His girl was alive. Could he get an amen, hallelujah?

  Jared shot a confused glance to Winters, who shrugged.

  “Why did Silva have her call?” Jared asked.

  “He wants to deal with Winters and thought he was still stateside.”

  Winters paced the length of the airborne war room. He paused, then drummed his fingers on the corner of the table.

  “So we’ve got the element of surprise,” Jared said. “Given that it’s five men to their army, we’ll need that. Anything else?”

  “What? A location confirmation and proof of life isn’t enough?” Parker asked.

  Proof of life. Winters never should have left her alone. This was his mistake. That realization struck him numb, and he raked a hand over his jaw.

  “What’s our timeline for Winters to make contact?” Jared asked.

  “I think our boy should give him a ring.” Parker paused. “Offer up the NOC list in exchange for her. I think Silva wanted it to sink in before they chatted.”

  “Sink in?” Winters asked.

  “I got the vibe Silva wanted Winters to sweat it. He’s not pulling the standard operating procedure for a ransom request.”

  “What a prick. All right. Patch us through to wherever Mia called from.” Jared pointed at Winters with a ready sign.

  He nodded back.

  “Roger that,” Parker said.

  A ringing sound echoed in the belly of the plane. Each long pause in between ate at his sanity. On the fifth ring, a woman answered.

  “Colby Winters for Juan Carlos Silva. He’s expecting my call.”

  “Si.” The phone went silent. He raised his brows, silently asking if they still had a connection.

  Invisible boulders weighted his shoulders and his mind. He needed to stretch. He wanted to fight. But more than that, he braced for every appalling outcome.

  “Ah, Mr. Winters.” A voice, iceberg cold, filled the galley through the overhead speakers. “I trust you found time to consider the gravity of your situation. You must be interested in your lovely friend’s safe return.”

  “Safe is preferred.” Games worked both ways. He’d play.

  “So you do realize she can come home in several different ways. A plane. A box. One piece or two.”

  “What’s it going to take, Silva?” His fingers flexed with the urge to reach through the phone and rip the fucker's throat out.

  “Of course you know. I want that list. You hand it to me, I hand you your girl. And she is your girl, isn’t she? I have an eye for these things. It makes me superior at my job.”

  Ripping his throat out would be too easy. Too fast. Disembowelment first. Skinning him alive second.

  “She is exquisite,” Silva said. “Even with the bruises.”

  Winters’s teeth gnashed. If he hadn’t willed them apart, they would have shattered.

  “She’s not yours to touch. Unmarred and unhandled, or no list.” He hid his rage, storing it for Juan Carlos Silva. No warning of his caged fury slipped through his measured cadence.

  “Her injuries were accidental. Nothing more will harm her if we can make a deal. If not, I promised her to one of my best, albeit most fiendish, men. I am sure things would not end well for her in that predicament.”

  Anger thumped in his chest. Each guilt-drenched breath ached. Juan Carlos baited him. Winters knew it.

  “The list is yours. But hear me like your world depends on it, Silva. Because it does. If Mia so much as sneezes in your care, I’ll make you pray for death.”

  “Mr. Winters, no need for threats. My offer is true. If you make the exchange, she will be returned. Unharmed. If I do not receive the list, then…she will be harmed. Comprehende?”

  The things Silva would comprehend when Winters was finished with him would be innumerable. First lesson. Don’t fuck with my girl.

  Winters diverted his attention from mapping out lesson number two. “How do you want to do this?”

  “Fly to Medellin via private charter. I expect you will arrive by midnight our time. I will have my driver escort you to my home. Come alone. Do not bring any men. Do not bring any weapons. Any failure to follow my directions will result in catastrophic repercussions.”

  Following the rules was never his forte. “Where will your men take me?”

  “What does that matter? Your ground transport will be arranged.”

  “I’m supposed to trust you will return us to the airport. No harm? That sounds like a load of Colombian crap to me.”

  “Such language. I have no need for either of you. Whether you like what I do or not, my reputation is sterling. My word, solid gold. If I speak, if I promise, you should listen.”

  Winters bet Mia was psychoanalyzing the hell out of this piece of cartel trash.

  “Besides, what other choice do you have?” Silva asked.

  “We’ll meet on your terms. I’ll be in Colombia midnight, local time.”

  Adios, motherfucker. He sliced at his neck. Jared punched a button. Parker cut the connection. No one spoke before the line disconnect was confirmed.

  Winters forced his muscles to relax and whistled a death march. “He doesn’t have a clue we’re on our way, does he?”

  Jared pursed his lips. “He might. If things are going too easy, we’re walking into an ambush. Silva didn’t rise to the top by being slow to the game. By now, he should know more about Titan. I’d say you two just did a sparring two-step.”

  Winters crumbled a scrap of paper from their table and threw it into the trash can. “Fuck him. I'll quick step all over his tango face.”

  “You’re going to follow orders.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I get it. It’s your rodeo, Jared.”

  “You’re goddamn right. Now, if you don’t mind, let’s finalize the details.” He flipped the remote and shuffled through the satellite images. “The tree line here, overlooking the gate will be our best for surveillance. Cash, you set up a protective watch here. You’ll handle any unexpected men during our entry and cover our asses on the way out.”

  Cash nodded, his cowboy hat pulled low. He grabbed a set of printed images and turned to study them.

  “Brock, you’ll handle diversions at the front gate.” Jared pointed, analyzing the screen. “Rocco, I need you on wheels. We should have an armored Range Rover ready when we l
and. It’s all yours. Our contacts in Colombia will have staged anything at our rendezvous point that wouldn’t pack in that vehicle. C4 and charges. Extra guns and ammo. If you don’t see something you need, tell me.”

  Brock and Rocco knew the deal. Jared turned his focus. “And Winters, I’ll kick your leatherneck, devil dog ass from Colombia to the States and back again, if you run in there like your dick’s on fire.”

  Winters grunted. He didn’t respond to Jared. Didn’t even look at him.

  “I’m not messing with you, Winters. If you don’t get yourself under control, I’ll bench you on this one. You’ll sit your ass on this plane until we get back, like a little bitch. Hell, I’ll let Brock sweep in and rescue your girl.”

  Brock cocked half a grin and raised an eyebrow. “I’d be down with that, buddy.”

  “Fuck you.” Winters turned from one man to the next. “And fuck you, too.”

  Brock laughed and slapped Winters on the back. “I’ve never seen you worked up like this. Who the hell knew it was possible?”

  Jared cut in. “All right, all right. Winters, you’ll be the same cold asshole, as always.”

  “Yeah, yeah. 10-4.” Winters glared and cracked his knuckles. “I’m focused.”

  “Glad we have this all under control, lover boy.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Alejandro flashed too many teeth, the cadence of his breaths too quick for their short walk. As he guided her toward her room, his fingers flexed into her arm, cascading in a deviant rhythmic massage. Alejandro stopped at an open door. His rancid odor surrounded her. Please, walk away. Leave me alone. Her heart slammed into her rib cage.

  With a disgusted shove, he shut the door on Mia, enclosing her in the windowless room, alone. She’d take any small miracle. Alejandro abandoning her now would qualify as one.

  The lock scraped closed and seemed to seal her fate. Alejandro was perched inches away, only a thick wooden door offering protection. Too bad he had the key. She could feel his evil aura. His boots didn’t retreat. Each heartbeat thumped in her ears, marking the anguishing passage of time. He wasn’t leaving. Her mouth went dry. Panic bubbled like acid in her stomach.

  Go away.

  The scuffing sound of movement dialed back the oxygen in the room. It was hard to breathe. Was he turning to her? Or from her? A shuffled step. Her mind played tricks. The sounds bounced. Her ear ached to hear what direction he would go.

  Silence.

  Please go away. Please.

  Another footstep. Toward her or away? She still couldn’t tell.

  Her lip trembled. Her hands covered her mouth to drown any wayward weep. Was she strong enough to handle whatever depraved plundering lurked in the sick depths of his psyche?

  A sound again. It moved away, as he did. Every ounce of petrified anxiety tore from her chest, a heaving breath escaped. Mia doubled over, holding herself. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Just kill me now. This was more than she could take. The room closed in, suffocating her. The air somehow thinned. She gulped at it. She was too weak. Nothing like Colby promised she was. How had she fooled him? It was pitiful how easy it was to back into the corner, begging for the easy way out.

  Still holding herself, Mia sunk to the floor. The dim light illuminated the room, but her sight blurred through her sobs. She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

  This sniveling stuff had to stop. Channel shock and awe. Find it. Do it. Now.

  She traced a finger on the cold tile floor. The hysterical tears slowed to a stream. She could blink them away. Force them to stop. She had no choice. How the hell was she going to get out of this? She hadn’t come up with anything close to a bamboo bazooka.

  A wisp of hair tangled over her wet cheek. Mia blew at it, banishing it back to place, but it stayed put. She didn’t make the effort again. Exhaustion weighted her eyelids, already puffy and swollen from irresponsible, self-pitying wails.

  Juan Carlos and Alejandro yielded no information to aid her struggle of survival. She should have studied their interaction, searched for weaknesses, and built a psychological profile. But she didn’t.

  Where was Colby?

  Tracking her to Colombia seemed impossible. How would he know where to find her? She tried to pass along a clue to the man on the phone, but how many white houses with gardens were in this country? A lot.

  Colby would have to play Where in the World is Mia Kensington? Only with automatic weapons instead of a red trench coat and hat.

  Mia winced after she made herself laugh. He was a tough guy with a soft heart. He’d find her.

  I’ve needed you my whole life, Mia. And I had no idea. His words echoed in her mind. Just when everything seemed so fresh and safe, so outrageously optimistic, life laughed at her plans. It had been foolish to fantasize about fairy tales.

  The scrape of footsteps drifted under the door. Did she hear Alejandro? Or was that Colby? Her brows pinched, desperate to hear again. The sound of silence blared. Her eardrums nearly exploded. Her mind was Looney Tunes’ playground, laughing at her struggle to remain awake and coherent. Was this dehydration? No, this was delusion.

  She should have devoured those stupid sandwiches. Guzzled that water. All she could do was beckon sleep. Her forehead pressed against her folded arms. She scrunched against the floor, trying hard to melt into it and away from here. Colby would come. He would. She hadn’t found him just to let him go. He needed her. Didn’t he? Colby...

  The door clamored open, and she jerked awake. She couldn’t get her bearings, feeling near comatose. A monster loomed ginormous. Most definitely not Colby. Teeth glowed in the dark. Foul odors smacked her conscious. A hand grabbed her, forcing a caustic rag against her raw lips.

  Mia jerked away, scraping her fingernails into his knuckles. They were so rough, she could’ve ignited a match with a strike to his grated skin—it had to be Alejandro.

  He lurched her out the door and sloshed her through the hallways. One confusing turn after another. The fumes from the poisoned rag seared her nostrils. Bitterness abraded her tongue. Her stomach rolled, convulsing. Her eyes slinked side to side without her control, as bright trails from hallway windows decorated her drugged vision. Oh, this again.

  She slammed into Alejandro’s armpit, smashing to a stop. Her eyes moved hazy and lazy, searching for an answer.

  Juan Carlos Silva.

  She tried to focus. Tried to study him at his desk. Stupid coffee cup. Stupid cologne. Did he want another phone call? Her lips tingled. She couldn’t feel her tongue or her face or her… Lots she couldn’t feel, but sleep she could, even standing up. The hum in her head lulled her asleep.

  Rocco adjusted the steering wheel in the Range Rover. Winters sat in the backseat, sandwiched between Brock and Cash, and tried to spread out. The last thing he wanted to do right now was knock knees. Anxious adrenaline raced its course. How did he end up riding bitch?

  He ran his fingertip over the recently sharpened edge of the tactical blade. Its serrated claws gleamed. The metal was warm in his grip. He had toyed with the knife handle since they started their steep descent. His hands itched for action, while his mind fucked with him. The job had never been personal, and this was far past that level. Doubt and anger battled, leaving a bitter aftertaste in his throat.

  Winters coughed for attention. “If anything goes wrong, if something happens to me, you bring Mia home. No questions.”

  Jared ignored him.

  Cash rolled his eyes. “Christ, Winters. Nothing’s going to go wrong. We didn’t fly across the globe just to bail on your girl if your pretty ass takes a bullet.”

  He couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “She’s an important person.”

  “Yeah, we gathered that.”

  Winters sheathed his knife and ran his palms over his thighs. Too much energy. Too many what-ifs.

  Jared turned around in his front passenger seat. “Listen, man, do whatever you have to out there. And we’ll do the same. We know so
mewhere in your pea brain, she’s important to you, so she’s important to us. End of conversation.”

  Jared finished with a curt nod and swiveled forward again. They bumped along a makeshift path. Branches hit the windshield. Winters wasn’t entirely sure Rocco was using a road. But whatever the quickest way from point A to point B was, he was cool with it.

  Rocco pulled up hard, parked the vehicle as planned, and they fell out. Cash slipped into the vegetation. Gone. Damn snipers, and typical Cash. Sneaking in. Sneaking out. The man melted into shadows.

  Brock had the trunk open and unloaded a cadre of explosives.

  Jared moved past Winters. “Let’s go. On my six.”

  They hoofed it to the fence line, barreling to the main gate like they were running toward Satan’s open jaw. On the other side, hell waited, machine guns on the ready.

  Brock broke off with a hand gesture from Jared. Winters checked his watch. Time wasn’t moving fast enough. They dropped to the ground. Waiting. Calculating. Preparing.

  Blast number one hit. The front gates exploded. Shards of wood and fragments of concrete rained down in a cloud of smoke and fire. Before the vibrations stopped, blast number two, smaller and less obvious, rolled through the outer wall. Alarms shrieked. Guards bellowed. Confusion penetrated the perimeter.

  Jared and Winters crawled to position, rifles up, scanning their opening. Uniformed men ran toward the main gate, positioned in defensive formations, and ready to take on an enemy they couldn’t see.

  Time to duck and hustle. Jared and Winters sprinted forward, reached the side of the main house, and breached a door. They pushed in. Uniformed maids ran past them, eyes averted. Obviously not their first attack. He swept a harsh gaze back and forth. No tangos worth a bullet.

  A quick hand gesture later, Jared veered down a winding hall. Winters listened with angry intent for signs of life, oncoming attack, and Mia through the constant pulse of warning alarms.

  The house sounded empty. Jared was on stealth mode. Undetectable, then he disappeared.