by Kris Norris
She’d made him dream. Losing it all, now…
Maybe, he’d been secretly hoping she wouldn’t find out. That when he eventually told her, fifty years down the road, it would be so far removed, it would slip by with nothing more than a shrug and a sigh. That, for once, he could just be Brett Sievers—Delta Force soldier, and the man in love with Ellis Baker. That he would be enough. That he wasn’t Daniel Sievers’ son.
Brett had been wrong. Horribly wrong. And that one mistake—that stupid conversation he should have made happen—would be his undoing. The reason he’d swear off women, off love. Why he’d refuse to date, again. He’d simply resort to physical encounters. Empty sex. Cannon seemed to get by on it. No reason Brett couldn’t follow in his buddy’s footsteps. Shelter that last shattered piece of his heart he hadn’t given to Ellis. Do his best to keep it hidden.
He didn’t know what hurt more—that Ellis hadn’t even bothered to ask him, first? Had just made assumptions and left? Or the way she’d done it. As if they hadn’t shared all those months together. Hadn’t said they loved each other. Hadn’t been on the verge of forever.
Maybe he should track her down. Make her face him. Look him in the eyes as she ripped out his heart—bled it dry. Called him a monster. It might be worth it to see her one last time, even if it was to hear the truth.
No fucking way. He’d trained for years to overcome weakness. To bury any fear. To face life expecting to die. And he’d made peace with that. But he was man enough to admit—at least to himself—that the prospect of facing her was more than even he could bear. She was beyond his training. His limits.
Besides, it wouldn’t change anything. Knowing the truth, hearing it, firsthand, wouldn’t ease the pain crushing his chest. Make it easier to breathe. To move on. And it sure as hell wouldn’t fill the empty hole in his heart. Which meant, it was time to give Brett his walking papers, and focus on being Colt, instead. Hardened soldier. Loner. A man with nothing left to lose.
Colt raised his beer, watching more drops glisten in the bright lights. Whatever the reason, he’d drink to it.
Chapter 2
Present day, Seattle...
Damn. She was leaving a bloody trail. Drops along the concrete that were as good as any GPS tracking system. Because it was a clear path straight to her.
Ellis Baker stumbled against the door frame, bracing her weight as she scanned the area. A black Suburban was parked off to her right. Heavily tinted. No license plates. Not that she expected any. Something she could use to trace back to them. Even if they hadn’t believed she’d escape, they would have planned for everything. It was simple protocol.
Just like taking her shoes—hell, most of her clothes. It made her vulnerable. Kept her guessing if this was the time they’d resort to raping her. That they wouldn’t stop at only sliding her bra strap off her arm, or tracing the line of her underwear. That they’d act on the dark threat in their eyes, the unforgiving grip of their hands. It screwed with her mind. Kept her off-kilter. Made her curl in on herself as a means of self-preservation. A defensive mechanism they’d obviously hoped would make her talk.
Not that any of the questions had made sense. In fact, it was mostly the same ones repeated over and over until she couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t do anything other than push past the pain. The fear she didn’t want to admit she felt. Do her best to keep her senses alert. Primed. She had a feeling they’d eventually make a mistake—let down their guard. And that’s when she’d strike.
Ellis didn’t know how long she’d been in there. Tied. Beaten. Drugged just enough to keep her complacent. Everything had blurred together—a massive wash of dull colors amidst deep shadows. Until today. There had been a distinct change—a new urgency in their voices. In the way they handled her. She’d known her time was running out. Slowly counting down until everything stopped.
Death. That was the only way this would end. The only way it could end. She’d realized that the moment she’d woken bound to the chair, two beefy guys dressed in black standing in front of her. No masks. No attempt to hide their identity. Which could only mean they’d planned on eliminating her.
When she’d deduced the end had come—that they were done playing, she’d changed tactics. Had tried to buy more time. An extremely hard feat when she didn’t have the answers they obviously wanted. Didn’t know why she’d been grabbed.
True, she was an operative, but she hadn’t been abducted by foreigners. The kind of people she’d anticipated—that wanted payback. The ones she’d been prepared for. The reason she was constantly looking over her shoulder. Why she didn’t have any ties—people she cared about. Who could be used against her.
Not that she had any of those left. Her boss had burned every bridge she’d ever made before she’d even agreed to sign up. A way of ensuring her acceptance into the program. Though, she’d be lying if she said it hadn’t stung at how easily her friends and family had faded from her life.
How easily he’d faded.
Civilians had an excuse of sorts. They didn’t suspect subterfuge around every corner, behind communiques that didn’t quite make sense. But he’d been different. Delta Force. Spec Ops. Out of everyone in her life—the few people who’d really mattered—she’d thought he’d be the one to question the lies. The excuses. That after all they’d shared, the life they’d mapped out together, he’d be determined to hunt her down—demand to know the truth. Have her end it face-to-face.
In retrospect, she’d been hoping he’d save her.
But he hadn’t. Had vanished along with her hopes and dreams until she wasn’t sure she even knew what the truth was, anymore. Knew who she was, anymore. Not after spending five years constantly pretending to be someone else. A covert force fighting the war against terrorism from the inside out. Someone dedicated to keeping the front lines safe—preventing them from dying from their own weapons turned against them.
Which made this abduction even stranger. The men who’d grabbed her—kept her tied to that damn chair and used pain and psychological terror as motivators—weren’t just American, they were operatives, like her. People she should have been able to trust. Could have partnered with. Guys she was sure she remembered seeing before but couldn’t place, right now. Not with her thoughts so scattered. Muddied from the pain. From the drugs. From constantly searching for any kind of weakness she could capitalize on. Maybe later, when she had time to reflect, she’d remember where she’d seen them. How she knew them.
If she lived through the night.
She snorted. Damn straight she would. Assholes had picked the wrong woman to underestimate. Hadn’t they read her file? Knew what she’d endured over the past few years? Maybe, then, that asshole wouldn’t have let down his guard. Untied her feet while his partner was off taking a leak. Thinking he’d get in a bit of fun before putting a bullet between her eyes.
He hadn’t seen it coming. Hadn’t considered she’d have the strength, the will to fight back. Fucker had learned the hard way. Was the reason she’d gotten this far. Of course, she hadn’t done much more than make her way to the exit. Nowhere close to free. But, it was a start. And this was one mission she wasn’t going to fail.
Ellis lifted the keys she’d confiscated from that asshole. The one she’d strangled with her legs. Whose head she’d slammed into the floor while he was gasping for air—lips turning blue. No car keys, but they’d gotten her out the handcuffs—the set of locked doors. And she’d used the edge to tear the arms from the shirt she’d stolen off the bastard’s back—that thankfully hung down to her thighs. The strips she’d wrapped around her feet. Not nearly as protective as shoes, but it would enable her to move faster—run along the streets without cutting herself on any stray piece of glass. She’d already lost a fair amount of blood—was still bleeding. She couldn’t afford to injure herself further.
She looked at the car but knew she couldn’t risk hot wiring it. That there was a strong possibility they could track it. Had some kind of locating system
installed for this kind of situation. Instead, she took off running, ignoring the burning pain through her side. The bastard’s partner had clipped her with a lucky shot when he’d returned to find her struggling with the cuffs as she’d made for the door. His colleague splayed out across the floor, the man’s pants twisted around his knees. Bare ass to the sky. His shirt clasped in Ellis’ hands. She’d successfully locked asshole number two in one of the rooms inside the warehouse. Though, she didn’t know how long the steel door would hold him—or if there were other ways out. If he had another set of keys she didn’t know about. How fast his backup would arrive, because he’d definitely be calling in more men.
If she’d been quicker, she could have grabbed the jerk’s handgun. Having a weapon would have been nice. Given her an edge—a concrete form of defense. But, she hadn’t been fit to fight more than she already had. Downing the one guy had taken most of her remaining strength—had left her feeling lightheaded—which meant she’d take what she had and find a way to make it work. Get somewhere safe. If such a place existed.
Ellis headed for the next warehouse, rounding the side, then ducking down the small alleyway between buildings. She kept her muscles primed—ready for someone to jump out at her at any given moment. Arriving at the corner unchallenged was a nice surprise. Especially when surprises usually involved someone ambushing her—trying to kill her.
She studied the area. Rows of more warehouses stretched out to either side, a lone road crossing the water the only exit she could see—other than the water, itself, which was definitely a last resort. In her present condition, she wouldn’t last more than a few minutes in the freezing temperature before succumbing to the side effects of cold water immersion. Still, if it was between swimming or getting caught…
There were bound to be cameras, but she didn’t have time to worry. To try to synchronize her movements to the scanning pattern. She needed as much of a lead as possible. Every second counted. She’d be more vigilant later—assuming there was a later.
The cold pavement chilled her feet through the wrappings as she headed for the road. A quick scan and she was sprinting across—ready to jump into the water if the Suburban appeared behind her. The road was still empty as she crested the far side, crossing that street then disappearing into the industrial section. More buildings. More alleyways. More darting between empty warehouses and closed businesses. Christ, she didn’t even know what day it was. Saturday? Sunday?
It was late—the sun already setting. But wouldn’t a few shops still be open if it was a weekday? If they hoped to survive in the present economy? Not that it mattered. Closed meant vacant. And even if she set off an alarm—if she was able to hide for a bit, it wasn’t the same as having a physical presence. What might be a deterrent.
These men were ruthless, but she knew secrecy trumped everything else. Leaving a trail of dead bodies behind—ones that would be missed, unlike her. That would involve the police. Maybe the feds. Even if they took the corpses with them, normal people got reported missing. And she knew that wasn’t the kind of heat their organization would encourage. The men had already fucked up in letting her escape. Escalating it by killing civilians—possibly getting caught on video—might get them shot once they’d returned to base.
At least, she hoped that was the case, because she couldn’t wait for the police to casually drop by. Or a security company to investigate the alarm. She needed a person. Someone who would see the blood on her shirt—the obvious wounds—and call in the cavalry. She could figure out how to escape from the hospital, later. After they’d treated the worst of her wounds. Or hell, just given her a few pints of blood. Twenty-four hours. That’s all she needed. A moment to breathe. To recoup. Some pain killers to keep her moving.
Unlike the agonizingly slow pace she was suddenly traveling. As if her entire body was encased in wet cement. Ellis wasn’t sure when the fatigue, the blood loss, had hit her. Only that somewhere between darting up a street, and racing down an alley, she’d faded. Gone from running to stumbling. Bracing her hand along the walls in the hopes of staying on her feet.
Had she heard tires squealing behind her? She looked over her shoulder. Was that a glimpse of black amidst the buildings? A Suburban passing in and out of view as it raced along a parallel track? Quickly zoning in on her location?
The blood. Damn. It was still dripping—still leaving a tangible trace of her movements. Sure, they couldn’t follow her path exactly—not without going on foot, and she knew they’d stay in the car. Not chance having someone see them—that they’d get picked up on a security or traffic cam—but they could anticipate her direction. Circle in on her until they could pull alongside—grab her without stopping.
Which meant she needed to disappear. Now. Before the black dots hovering at the edge of her vision ate away what was left—submersed her in darkness. Before she put herself back in their hands.
A light. There. It was on the upper floor. Maybe a loft apartment. A couple of shadows passed in front of the window, which meant there was definitely someone home. Too far away to make out. But it didn’t matter. Anyone would do. All Ellis needed was for them to open the door—let her in. The rest would fall into place.
More black spots—sliding in from the sides. Making the scenery look pitted. She took a few steps. Tripped to one knee. A bloody handprint smearing the asphalt beside her. Two breaths. That’s all she had time for before she needed to stand—find a way to cover the last of the distance.
Damn, those tires, again. Fishtailing around a corner. Closer than before. Another few minutes, and they’d be on top of her. Narrowing in on her location. If she wasn’t inside—gone—before they spotted her, they might risk making a scene. She didn’t think so, but…she hadn’t thought she’d get abducted by her own people, either. And she had no doubts, now, that they were with the Agency. The details were still murky, but with each passing minute, the truth rang clearer. The one she’d been suppressing because thinking her boss had ordered this—wanted her dead…
Thoughts for later. For after she made it through the night alive and free.
A wash of blood down her side as she gained her feet. It puddled on the gray pavement, turning it dark. More black looking than red. Or was that just her vision dulling further? Losing colors along with light?
It was bad news, either way. Meant she was close to passing out. To being beyond fixing. Even if she managed to get inside, she’d likely bleed out before an ambulance would arrive. Before they’d get her to the hospital.
The realization had her moving. Staggering toward the glass door. There was a name. Wayward something. The words blurred together. Seemed to fade in and out as she tried to read the block lettering. But she was still able to focus on the handle. To try turning it.
Locked.
The hum of an engine. Gaining on her position. She could picture it. The black vehicle barreling down the road she’d been running along. They’d have a guy pointing to the trail of blood. Shouting out directions. Another couple of corners, and they’d be there. Staring her down.
Ellis pounded on the glass. She tried to call for help, but it took all her strength just to stay awake. To keep hitting the door. Something slid above her. A voice saying they were closed.
She kept knocking. Kept slamming her shoulder against the surface with everything she had, when tires skidded behind her. She looked into the glass—saw the Suburban’s reflection. One guy leaning out the window. He had his arm extended, something dark in his hand.
Too late. Even if she’d had the energy to move—to run—her margin of time had slipped away. Nowhere to go, and nothing left to do but continue pounding on the door. Maybe if she put more of her weight behind it, she could break it down. Get inside.
It opened. Just like that. Closed one second, then she was falling inward. Her hand leaving a bloody smear across the window, tracking her forward motion. She had the eerie sensation of accelerating toward the ground before someone caught her. Strong hands cuppin
g her elbows then pulling her against a thick, muscular chest.
The guy grunted, muttering something she couldn’t make out. The words sounded distant. Hollow. Like an old recording coming through a shitty speaker. Disembodied.
Did she recognize his voice? The tone? The pitch? The familiar gravelly reverb that vibrated through her chest?
She blinked, blacked out, then startled back when a series of pops filled the air. Gun shots. The assholes chasing her were actually shooting. Trying to kill the poor bastard who’d helped her. Had he fired back? Or had she only imagined feeling the recoil in his arm? She looked up, only there were two people, now. Two men. Big. Brawny. With thick arms and barrel chests. Muscles bulging beneath white tees.
The bigger of the two had a gun in his hand, was returning fire—quick shots that didn’t even make his arm twitch from the force. As if this was a daily occurrence. Hell, maybe it was. Maybe wounded strangers knocked on his door every day. Had armed men chasing them. Maybe this was just a regular Sunday night for the guy.
He pressed his back into the wall then looked at her. Ellis inhaled. She knew him. The copper glint of his eyes. The insanely huge frame. Not to mention the ever-present aura of death that clung to him like a damn mist. Though, it was more muted than she remembered. Less intimidating.
He’d been the unit leader of her boyfriend’s squad. Brett’s squad. The guy she’d planned on spending the rest of her life with before that life had been taken—burned to ashes and buried in the desert. The other man had been a friend by extension—the renowned brotherhood between soldiers. The guy who’d promised her he’d personally keep Brett’s ass in one piece. See he made it back to her alive. Safe.