Defiance

by Cherise Sinclair

  “Gabriel. I’m sorry,” he said simply, taking Gabe’s hand.

  “Yeah, me too. Thank you.” Gabe eyed him. “Caz said Mako talked with you before…?”

  Before the sarge deliberately drove off a fucking cliff into the fucking ocean. Anger stirred within him. Why, Sarge?

  “He did.” Grayson set his hand on Gabe’s shoulder as if he could hear the ugly thoughts. “He’d received the diagnosis quite a while before. They told him he could live a few months longer if he’d undergo chemotherapy. He wasn’t interested.”

  Chemotherapy. IVs and drugs and hospitals, weakness and nausea. The sarge hadn’t even wanted people to know where he lived. Would he have been able to tolerate a hospital room, surrounded by strange noises? People he didn’t know?

  Gabe’s anger faded. “Yeah, Mako didn’t do hospitals.” Despite the pain in his heart, he found a smile as he glanced at Caz. “Remember when he busted his arm and made the four of us set it?”

  “Mako didn’t like doctors much more than hospitals.” Caz grinned. “Dios, I was scared. We’d only been with him maybe six months?”

  “ ’Bout that, yeah.”

  Grayson frowned. “Six months? You were just children.”

  “No, sir. We were his team,” Caz said. “And his orders were as close to God’s commandments as you can get.”

  “Ah, yes, that I do know. Which is why when the first sergeant ordered me to arrange an Irish wake—a send-off—that’s what I did.” Grayson met Gabe’s gaze. “Mako said, ‘Find a place with decent booze where whoever shows up can raise a glass and tell a few stories. Share the stupid shit I did when I was younger.’ ”

  Yeah, that sounded like the sarge. Paranoid as hell yet unafraid of dying. He’d figured death was just the next step in an interesting—although occasionally fucked-up—journey. “Where and when is this taking place?”

  “This evening at the hotel where most of us are staying. It caters to business people and has a private bar and lounge. There’s decent booze, and the hotel will provide a bartender.” Grayson’s gaze dropped to Gabe’s cane. “It has a fireplace, and the seating is comfortable.”

  Gabe relaxed. He’d have gone, no matter what, but it would’ve been a bitch to stand for hours or sit in an uncomfortable folding chair like at some receptions. “Thanks. Guess I better see if I can book a room for tonight.”

  “Zachary already reserved us rooms, viejo.” Caz huffed a laugh. “You’ll know the hotel—Grizzly Towers. On your old beat, right?”

  “I’d forgotten you started your law enforcement career in Anchorage.” Grayson smiled faintly. “I’d better get back and make sure everything is set up. I hope we have time to talk more this evening.” After a firm nod, he strolled away.

  “Good man,” Caz noted.

  “Yeah.” Mako hadn’t let many people in, but the ones he did trust were stellar.

  After his gaze swept over the grounds, Caz pointed to the car. “We’d better be going, too. Bull’s waiting for us.”

  “I see that.” Gabe eyed his brother. “Want to tell me why you two are scoping out the surroundings every few seconds? And why Bull is carrying at a funeral?”

  “Ah…later.”

  All right, maybe a cemetery wasn’t a good place to have a talk. “Then let’s get going.” He put his hands on the wheelchair arms to rise.

  Before he could, Caz had stepped behind and started pushing.

  “For fuck’s sake, I can walk to the damn car.” The sarge wasn’t the only one who despised being helpless.

  “Save your strength.”

  The cane was a solid weight in his hands. How difficult would a backward whap be? Might teach his little brother some respect. Gabe tightened his grip on the cane and glanced back at his target.

  Caz made a tsking sound. “Ah, viejo, you realize I never have less than four knives on me?”

  “Still? Aren’t you supposed to be a fucking healthcare professional?” With an annoyed grunt, Gabe sat back.

  Multiple knives trumped a single cane any day of the week.

  * * * * *

  Moving to the side of the guests, Zachary tried—again—to reach Jessica. She still wasn’t answering her phone. This was more than her being absent-minded or angry. His worry ratcheted higher.

  Pulling up his contact list, he called Jessica’s mother. “Joyce, I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m having trouble reaching Jessica. Did she tell you I was in Alaska for a few days?”

  With a scowl, DeVries caught Zachary’s attention and motioned for him to head out. The committal shelter had cleared of people, leaving the area too exposed.

  Giving him an acquiescing nod, Zachary started toward the waiting limousine.

  “Why, yes. I know you’re in Alaska,” Joyce said. There was a long pause. “Are you saying Jessica isn’t with you?”

  “With…me?” Ice filled him. Had the stalker taken her? Taken Sophia? “When did you last see her?”

  “When she dropped Sophia off yesterday morning. Then she borrowed Eunice’s car and drove to the airport. To join you in Alaska.”

  To join him? “I see.” She was coming here? He pulled in a long breath, forcing himself to think.

  If she’d taken a flight after his, she’d have arrived quite late last night. Why hadn’t she joined him in his hotel room?

  On the road, vehicles pulled away, leaving the two limousines parked at the curb.

  “Zachary, if she didn’t meet you, then where is she?” Joyce’s voice was tight with worry.

  “She’s undoubtedly planning an elaborate surprise for later today, which I’ve obviously ruined,” he said lightly, because it was probably true. Must be true.

  “Oh, you’re right. That would be like her, wouldn’t it? That girl.”

  “I’ll have her call you when I see her.” He paused, needing the reassurance of hearing his daughter’s voice. “If Sophia is awake, can you hold the phone for her so I can say hello?”

  “Of course. She’s helping me make sugar cookies.”

  The little mite was probably covered in batter from head to toes.

  “Listen, Sophia, here’s your daddy.” There was a rustling sound, followed by a more distant, “Go ahead, Zachary.”

  “Sophia, sweetheart, it’s Daddy.”

  The high squeal of delight made his eyes burn. “Dada. Dada. Coooses.”

  “Yes, you’re making cookies with Grammie. You’re a good helper.”

  A spate of words followed, too many consonants missing to be intelligible, but the enthusiasm was obvious.

  He took a guess. “Grammie gave you bites of the cookie batter?”

  A rolling infectious giggle indicated he was correct. Thumping sounded over the phone. The spoon, perhaps. “Coooses. Nom, nom, nom.”

  “Have a bite for me, then.” He rubbed his hand over his stinging eyes. “I love you, my daughter. Love you very much.”

  After another word with Joyce, he put his phone back in his jacket.

  DeVries scowled, fell in beside him, and jerked his head toward the cars. “Move faster, Doc.”

  With a nod, Zachary picked up the pace. Would Jessica be at the hotel? That would be the first place to check.

  Seeing them approach, their limousine driver got out of the vehicle to open the back door.

  Mako’s sons were beside the remaining limo. Only the funeral staff and one soldier remained behind.

  “Shooter!” Bull roared.

  Shoving deVries away to the right, Zachary dove to the left.

  A rifle cracked. Pain burned across his side.

  From the sound, the shooter was outside the base boundary, somewhere in the forested area. Moving fast with deVries beside him, Zachary made it into the cover of the limo.

  “Stay down.” DeVries snapped out. He had his pistol aimed…and held fire.

  The distance was too great. Zachary didn’t bother to pull out the Glock in his ankle holster. Instead, he checked the people at risk.

  The driver was crou
ched to his left.

  All ex-military, Mako’s three sons had taken cover behind their limo along with their driver.

  Beside Zachary, deVries rose. “Fuck it all. He’s gone. I couldn’t—”

  “No, you’ve only got a pistol. I’d guess Weiss used a sniper rifle.” Returning fire with anything less accurate would not only be useless, but might hit civilians.

  “Who was the shooter aiming at?” The rumbling question came from Gabe. His tanned face was gray with pain.

  “I’m the target.” With a grimace, Zachary pressed his hand to the painful wound on his side.

  “Damn-it-all, you’re hit.” DeVries pulled off Zachary’s overcoat.

  After unbuttoning his shirt, Zachary glanced down. A long furrow ran along the outside of his lower ribs. He’d been lucky. A couple of inches over, and the bullet would have hit his liver. “It’s not that bad.”

  “I’ll slap a bandage over it once we’re gone.” Scowling, deVries glanced at the others. “Bug-out time, in case he comes back for another shot.

  Zachary looked at Gabriel. His brothers had obviously not let him in on the information. “I’ll explain back at the hotel.”

  “We have a meeting with Mako’s lawyer now.” Cazador rose, sliding a knife back into an arm sheath. “But it can be postponed.”

  Even Gabriel, hurting and fresh from the hospital, looked as if he’d happily strap on a pistol and jump into the fight.

  “Thank you, no. The hotel is safe enough.” Worry ripped through him. Weiss was here. Where was Jessica?

  “At least you know your stalker made it to Alaska,” Bull said cheerfully. “And apparently has your schedule.”

  “The good news just keeps coming.” With a sour expression, deVries motioned Zachary into the backseat and glanced at the driver. “Get us out of here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  By the time the limousine reached the hotel, deVries had taped up Zachary’s wound and was on the phone to his boss.

  “He did what?” he said into the cell, then glanced at Zachary. “Weiss must’ve heard on Thursday about your plans. He booked a private plane to Atlanta and flew out from there. Got here early Friday morning.”

  “I see.” No wonder the Tampa police hadn’t found him at the airport. “He moved fast.”

  “Too fucking fast.” Simon’s security guard was seething with frustrated rage. If deVries got a clear shot, Weiss wouldn’t survive the encounter.

  Zachary put a few extra sterile pads and tape into his pants pockets for later, then handed the first aid kit to the driver. “Add the supplies I used to the bill, please.”

  “Got it.” The driver brought the limo to a halt in front of the hotel doors.

  When Zachary reached for the door handle, deVries shot him a look that made him sit back.

  As deVries jumped out, Zachary tried to find a modicum of patience. Allowing others to assume the risks for him was intolerable. Even worse, the stalker was a danger to everyone in the area. Speaking of which…

  Zachary handed the limo driver several large bills as a bonus. “Thank you for your driving. I’m sorry for the scare.”

  “No problem.” The driver grinned. “Being shot at is a great adrenaline jolt. I’ll be able to skip my afternoon coffee. You be careful out there, Mr. Grayson.”

  “Thank you, I will.”

  DeVries opened the back door. “Let’s get inside.”

  After gathering his overcoat, Zachary stepped out.

  Once in the lobby, deVries let out a long breath. When they’d checked in, the bodyguard had evaluated the room and decided it was fairly safe. No windows for snipers to utilize, too many people, too much movement. Poor lines of retreat.

  That was assuming Weiss was rational, though.

  And Jessica was here. Maybe. Had she made it to her plane? To Anchorage? Anxiety was a hard knot in his belly.

  First step, he needed to know if she’d reached the hotel. Before leaving, he’d given her the hotel name in case she had any problem reaching his cell. He walked to the concierge desk.

  Ivan smiled. “It’s good to see you today, sir. What can I help you with?”

  “Could you check if my wife arrived last night? Jessica Grayson. Perhaps she was so late she didn’t want to disturb me?”

  “Of course. Give me a moment.” Ivan turned to his computer, tapping quickly. “Ah, no. I have no one by that name inquiring for you or checking in.”

  She hadn’t arrived. Fear swept through him, and he forced it down. “She isn’t answering her cell, and I’m worried.

  He still hoped the reason she wasn’t answering had nothing to do with Weiss and everything to do with the little submissive’s motivations. As long as Jessica could avoid speaking to her Dom, she could dodge his awkward questions.

  His mouth tightened. Once he found her, they’d be having a conversation, one uncomfortable for both of them.

  He should have told her about Weiss. That was his mistake.

  They would definitely talk about her disregarding his orders.

  He managed a smile for the concierge. “If she does arrive, can you call me?”

  “Of course, sir. Immediately.”

  “Thank you.” He caught deVries’s gaze and motioned toward the elevators. “Let’s go. I need to start making phone calls.” Galen could check the airlines and…

  “And clean that wound and change. Good thing you’re wearing black, or you’d have questions to answer.” DeVries slowed, his gaze on the front door. “Ah…Simon showed me your file.”

  Not a surprise. The owner of Demakis International Security kept files on everyone. “And?”

  “And isn’t that your woman?”

  Pulling a small suitcase, Jessica was crossing the lobby toward the elevators. In a green jacket that matched her eyes, and with her blonde hair bouncing, she drew all eyes with her vibrant energy.

  Fear was a cold blade inside him as he remembered the crack of the rifle at the cemetery. He had pushed deVries away to get him out of the line of fire. It could have been Jessica beside him. Her buoyant beauty could so easily have been wiped out today.

  He raised his voice. “Jessica.”

  She spun, saw him, and her eyes lit. Then her pleasure dimmed with uncertainty.

  His anger flickered to life, mingling with fear.

  “Uh, hey. Sir. I thought I’d join you. Be here as your support.” She wet her lips. Lips that would always soften under his.

  Lips that would be cold and stiff if she was dead.

  “I told you no.” The fear inside him made him less than tactful. And anger made him insensitive. “I didn’t want you here with me.”

  She moved closer. “You might not want me, but you do need me.”

  “No.”

  Her flinch made him hurt—almost as much as the bullet wound in his side hurt.

  She could die here.

  He pulled in a breath. “I realize you simply wanted to help, but this isn’t… You can’t be here.”

  “But why?”

  Dammit. “Jessica, I love you, but I need you to go home. We’ll discuss what’s happening when I return.”

  “What’s happening?” Her stubborn little chin lifted. “I knew there’s something wrong, more than your friend’s passing. What is really going on?”

  Normally, he loved her persistence and determination. This time, her intransigence was like rubbing salt into an oozing scrape. “What is going on is that you’re going home.”

  Jessica stood paralyzed as her husband turned into her Dom, right there in the hotel lobby.

  His eyes turned steely; his deep voice sharpened, and the power he usually kept subdued shook her. “I’ll have someone take you to the airport.”

  He glanced to the right, and a man standing nearby shook his head. “Nope. Taxi service isn’t in my job description.”

  Z growled under his breath, took a slow breath, and she could see him work to conquer his anger. “It wouldn’t be safe to put you into a taxi.” />
  “Safe?” The words inside struggled to come forth. “Z, please.” She took a step forward and put her hands on his waist, hoping against hope he’d wrap his arms around her.

  He flinched instead and stepped back. Away from her. “I want you to wait right here. Then we’ll go up to the suite.”

  As her eyes filled with betraying tears, she nodded.

  Struggling for control, Zachary walked a few steps away from her. He was far too angry, and even worse, afraid. A person couldn’t have a rational discussion from a place of fear. He wouldn’t hear what she said, wouldn’t consider his own words.

  Letting out a slow breath, he glanced at deVries. “How do I keep her safe?”

  Ignoring the question, deVries scowled. “That was a real goatfuck, Grayson.”

  “Indeed. However, my relationship isn’t what I wanted your opinion on.” When deVries stayed silent, Zachary continued, “How soon will the other operators be here?”

  “Fucking airport. Not till late tonight.” The man’s brows drew together as he glanced at Jessica.

  Zachary found a trace of amusement. Simon’s cold-blooded sadist was worried about her. “I’m taking her up to my room to talk.”

  “You need to tell her what’s going on, Doc.”

  “I know.” He rubbed his face. “Actually, I’d planned to lead with that, but I let fear control my tongue.”

  “No shit. You know, it’s reassuring that even big shot psychologists fuck things up now and then.”

  Zachary gave him a wry look. “You’re not helping.”

  “Couples counseling isn’t in my job description.”

  * * * * *

  Trying not to cry, trying to think about anything except Z’s anger, Jessica walked down the corridor beside him. Silently.

  As Z unlocked the hotel room, the man who’d trailed behind them waited.

  Z nodded to him. “I’ll be here. Why don’t you take a break?”

  The man hesitated. “If I have your word you’ll call before you open the door again, Doc.”

  “You have it.”

  Jessica stared after him. “Who is that man? Is he guarding you? What’s going on?”

  “Hold on, pet. We’re going to talk. Both of us.” After tossing his ripped, black overcoat onto the desk, Z locked the door and rolled her suitcase into the bedroom.