* * *
A blond, svelte woman with high cheekbones and large botoxed lips met them at the spa door. Dressed in a short black dress and high heels, she greeted them with a heavy Eastern European accent.
She nodded to the women, but at the sight of Sten, the attendant’s body language shifted from perfunctory to welcoming—chest thrust forward, her fingers playing in the curtain of hair around her face. Danni poked Izzy as the woman delivered a slow and seductive smile for Sten. In his fitted black suit, like all the Jenkins men, Sten cleaned up pretty nice. Would the woman go screaming out of the spa if she knew that Sten had a gun hidden under his jacket?
“Let me show you where you can change into our robes. There is a selection of chilled sparkling wines, mineral water, and an assortment of snacks. If there is anything you’d prefer, I’m happy to get it for you. Please follow me this way.”
With her white-blonde hair hanging down her back, she walked to a painted black door with heavy gold hardware. She was dressed to match the spa’s very French black-and-white scheme. A hanging crystal chandelier cast soft white light into the dark spa with painted black walls. The white molding and touches of white in the décor, including an enormous centerpiece of white roses and hydrangeas in a black vase, gave the small space a dramatic and sophisticated flair.
Sten moved closer to the Izzy and Danni and out of earshot of the woman who now waited at the door.
“I’ll be waiting right here if you need me.” He pointed to the entrance that provided a full view down the hallway. He then kissed Izzy lightly on the lips. “Have a great massage.”
Danni placed her hand on Sten’s arm. “Thank you. I know Lars would never have gone to his lunch if you weren’t here. I’m sure I won’t need you but thank you.” Then Danni linked arms with Izzy. “Let’s go get us some bubbly.”
Danni and Izzy had barely sipped their champagne after donning the lush robes when the blonde woman announced that their masseuses were ready for them. Danni and Izzy followed the woman down the hallway. With the soothing sound of the flute music, she could feel herself relaxing with each step. Danni floated along, sipping her champagne and thinking of Lars and the promises they made to each other last night. Was it possible to make a relationship work between two battle-wounded individuals?
Izzy hugged Danni before entering the private room for her massage. “Enjoy.”
Danni hugged her back. “Thank you for getting me out of the suite. If it were up to Lars, I might never leave the room.” After last night with Lars, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to go anywhere as long as he was in the bed.
Izzy disappeared into her room.
As Danni followed the attendant to her room, a foreboding chill fired down her spine. She took a deep breath, trying to remind herself that she was well protected. Aftershocks following trauma were to be expected.
The attendant smiled, no longer the welcoming greeting for Sten but closer to a smirk, the corners of her oversized lips barely moving. She opened the door to the inner chamber for Danni.
“I’m available to get you anything you want once you finish your massage. The rooms are soundproof for privacy, so you’ll have to ring the bell.” And there was the return of her smirk.
She pointed to a black button on the far wall above a table holding a gorgeous white orchid and glasses and a pitcher of cucumber water.
Danni raised her champagne flute. “I’ve everything I need.”
Danni stepped into the darkened room that smelled of eucalyptus and lavender, the familiar calming scents helping her further relax. The same gentle music played in the background.
Her masseuse stepped out of the shadows.
Danni froze. “Luna?”
Luna Star, barely visible in a white dress with the hotel insignia and her dreadlocks piled on top of her head, shimmered in the muted lights like an unearthly apparition. Danni glanced at her glass to check if she had been drugged as she suddenly was weak behind her knees and tingly sensations rushed through her.
The door that led to the private shower and bathroom opened. A dark-haired, stocky man in a staff uniform of white shirt and pants held an FN 5.7 automatic pistol with a silencer. The FN was the gun of choice for law enforcement…and obviously the Sinaloa Cartel. Danni’s heartbeat whacked against her chest in painful knocks. She inched back toward the door.
“Don’t think about it. I’ll put a bullet straight into her head.” He leveled the automatic at Luna. “I’m tired of listening to the whining bitch.”
“I’m sorry, Danni. I didn’t want to tell them.”
Danni’s brain was a scramble since she couldn’t make the connection between Luna and this man. Did Luna work for the cartel? Even if Luna did, Danni still couldn’t explain how the cartel found her in New York.
Danni’s heartbeat thundering into her eardrums made it hard to concentrate. Danni didn’t know whose side Luna was on. If Danni ran out the door, she might have time to escape. He wouldn’t shoot Luna knowing the gunshot, even with a silencer, would alert her guards. The threat to kill Luna could all be an act to stop Danni from escaping.
Could she dare risk Luna’s life? The thug was here to abduct Danni, not kill her. Miro wanted Danni alive for his sadistic games.
“My bodyguard is right out the door… And he’ll hear the gunshot.”
“This is a lot easier.” In one swift motion, he bashed Luna on the head with his pistol. She crumpled to the ground, blood gushing from the wound and saturating the white carpet.
Danni screamed for help as she turned and reached for the doorknob. He’d have to shoot her in the back. She jerked on the door. It was locked. She kept screaming. A hairy hand covered her mouth, and she felt the injection into her neck.
She fought, trying to reverse kick him before she bit his hand. He jerked her by her hair, lifting her off the ground to face him, and punched her in the stomach. She would have passed out from the blow, but he kept her upright as he stuffed a washcloth in her mouth and then taped it. She struggled to remain conscious. Once she lost consciousness, she wouldn’t be able to escape. Her hands and legs were still free. She lifted her cast and brought it down hard on his face. Blood spurted from his nose.
“You fucking cono.” He slapped her across the face. The pain was immediate. She saw flashes of light, and the room spun before she was lifted and thrown into a laundry cart, and then her hands and feet were tied. She struggled, trying to kick him, when he grabbed her feet.
Despite her height advantage, she lacked greater strength than her captor. Also, the drugs were beginning to kick in and weakened her. She floated. Blackness hovered on the periphery. She had to find a way to alert Sten before she passed out. Would Ryder inspect a laundry cart? She assumed they planned to take her out the service entrance.
She forced her eyes open as the cart moved down the hallway. Marines surrounded the hotel, so this guy wouldn’t make it out. She had to make noise, but the motion of the cart lulled her. She tried to stay awake despite her eyelids growing heavy.
She fought to focus. The wheels of the cart squeaked with the movement. She heard Sten’s voice. “I’ll need to check the laundry basket.”
Her kidnapper paid no attention.
“Habla ingles?”
Danni tried to kick her feet, but they were tightly bound. Then she tried to lash against the side, but she was in a pile of towels.
“I’ll need to see the contents.”
There was an eerie silence. The squeaking stopped.
And then there was the awful sound of a gunshot followed by a loud thud as if…a skull struck the marble floor.
She gagged against the dry rag. She fought the ties on her hands. She kicked her legs, thrashing against the cart. He shot Sten. It couldn’t be.
The awful truth engulfed her. Lars would never recover if Sten were dead.
Darkness closed around her.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lars couldn’t stop the foreboding filling his chest. He could
barely swallow the pâté de foie gras. He gulped the entire glass of water to get the gelatinous lump down his throat. He had to get out of the Michelin star restaurant, and the bullshit chat with his agent. He had to get back to Danni.
He never ignored his instincts in battle. Why had he the only time the outcome was vital to his soul and his entire being? Because Danni didn’t want him to sacrifice the possibility of a film deal for her sake. And he was afraid she’d start to put up barriers to their relationship if she thought that she was a burden to him. The woman was prickly and independent. And he’d feel the same way in her situation. So he had come against his better judgement and his instincts.
Guillaume, the French chef and owner, was making his way toward their table, greeting his regulars—men and women who had the time and could afford to spend a leisurely, expensive lunch. Lars had to get out of here before he was trapped by small talk.
“I don’t think we should settle for less than fifteen billion.”
Lars nodded at Steve Fontaine, then checked his messages on his phone again.
“You haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying.” Steve had become more than an agent. The super-savvy businessman had become a friend. But Lars couldn’t share the reasons for his distraction. And if Steve had a hint of what was happening with Danni, he’d want Lars to turn Danni’s misfortune into a novel.
“I’m sorry. This was a mistake.” Lars stood and threw down his napkin. “We’ll have to reschedule.”
“You’re joking. Do you have any idea what went into getting this meeting? The amount of time I spent…”
Lars glanced up and saw Dylan hurrying straight to the table, shaking his head with a grim look on his face.
Lars shoved his chair back and raced toward him, ignoring the stares from the diners.
“The car is out front.” Dylan was already rushing back to the front door.
Lars ran behind Dylan, ignoring the gasps from the diners when he shoved a waiter out of his way.
The adrenaline mainlining his body was primed for action. His body was focused and ready, but…his mind was careening out of control.
Dylan shoved the restaurant door open. “…Bad…”
For Dylan, a hardened Raider, to stumble on the words made Lars’s heart feel like it was being torn out of his chest.
“Sit rep. Now. Don’t spare me.”
“Danni’s been kidnapped.”
Lars knew before Dylan got the words out, but he still held on to a glimmer of hope that his screaming gut was off.
“Sten took a hit. GSW to his chest. He’s on this way to the hospital. They had to resuscitate him when they found him. And they are not sure…”
Lars stumbled, having to grab the bus stop pole to keep himself upright and not fall down on the street. He bent over and spewed the rich and heavy pâté on the street curb.
Dylan, who was opening the driver’s door, halted. Whatever look Lars gave him stopped him from speaking.
Lars wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his $3,000 suit and climbed into the car. His training kicked in to keep him moving and not turn into a sniveling mass of emotions. Danni had been taken. And Sten…
Lars hit the button to open the window, the need to hurl rushing back as the acid crawled up his throat. He couldn’t stop the images racing through his brain. Sten bleeding out… Danni in the hands of Miro.
He had to keep it together for both Danni’s and Sten’s sakes. He had to compartmentalize. Lucky for him that Uncle Sam trained him to focus and deny that his heart and soul were splintering. He couldn’t live without either of them.
Compartmentalize. Gather the needed information. Devise a plan. And then, kill Miro…
Dylan shot into traffic, ignoring the blast of horns. He accelerated, creating space where there was none.
“We don’t know much yet.” Evading a tour bus, Dylan looked back at Lars. “The FBI and DEA are on their way to the spa. There was no sign of a struggle. We’re assuming that Danni was drugged because Izzy was found unconscious. The medics are with her now; she’s coming out of it.”
“Any witnesses? Do we have anything on the spa personnel?”
Dylan hesitated, raising the hairs on Lar’s neck.
“Luna Star, Danni’s massage therapist, was found unconscious and bleeding, pistol-whipped. Izzy’s massage therapist is the only legit person. The receptionist has vanished.”
Fury exploded. Red spots darted before him.
“How the fuck did we miss that Luna works for the cartel?” Lars was the fricking idiot who’d arranged Luna’s contact with Danni. He had played right into their hands.
“I’m not sure we missed anything. I think she was a pawn used by the cartel. But Grayson’s on it.”
“I need to talk to that fucking bitch.”
“You don’t want to talk; you want to tear her apart. But that won’t help anything. Grayson will get everything from her. He never acknowledges it, but we all know he works for an alphabet agency that is very skilled in extracting information. And he already was accepted by the DEA and the FBI to be part of their investigation. You’ve got to let your team—”
“Bullshit. I’ve got to do this. I’ve got to sit in on the interview. My God, this is Danni, my woman, we’re talking about in the hands of a cartel hitman.”
“Right now, you need to be at the hospital for Sten…to make medical decisions.”
Fear roiled in his gut like the greasy pâté de foie gras.
“Nick and Emily are on their way. Your Uncle Harry is bringing your mom to New York.”
Lars thought he might barf again. His twin… For a stupid film deal. Like that meant a fucking thing if he lost… He couldn’t lose Sten. He couldn’t lose Danni.
“Nick has already contacted USSOCOM to get Finn home. He’s trying channels to find Parker, but I just realized that Grayson might have more pull to track where Parker is assigned. Not that either man would admit to working for the agency.”
He couldn’t suck enough air into his lungs. If Nick had reached out to get an active Navy SEAL home… His twin was one tough SOB. He’d fight.
Lars flashed on all the shots to the chest he had witnessed and the outcome. But that was on the battlefield. Not where the best hospitals and doctors were available.
Lars couldn’t go there. Hs shut down the visions of men who had died. He had to stay in the here and now. This was a different type of battleground, but still a battleground with moving pieces that he had to stay on top of from minute to minute. He had to step up and be the team leader he was trained to be when tasked with an impossible mission.
He had to delegate… How could he allow anyone else to search for Danni? But he couldn’t allow Sten to be alone in the hospital. He had to trust his team. The hospital would be the command center until his brothers and mother arrived. How would he ever explain to his mother how Sten had been shot on his watch?
He reverted back to his training. Pigeonhole emotions. No time or place for feelings on the battlefield.
Once his family arrived, Lars would be on the front lines. His mission was to rescue Danni. Sten’s outcome was out of his hands. In better hands than his.
Lars was trained to kill anyone who stood in the way of rescuing the hostage.
The fear and suffering would come later.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Consciousness crept slowly and painfully into her brain at the loud shouting. Her head was wedged in a tightening vise of agony. Her mouth was parched from too much champagne with tequila shots as a chaser. Danni kept her eyes locked shut to avoid the screwdriver-to-the-eyeball pain she knew would come from the light. She couldn’t remember any recent binges to set her on the downward spiral again. Drinking to obliterate the memory of standing alone, in her magnificent Vera Wang on the altar steps, had only lasted a week or two after her wedding before murderous rage took over. She’d never be a victim like that again. If Lars ever tried some crazy stint, she’d chase him down and make him pay…
> The nausea was intensified by the stench of putrefying garbage. She needed water and Tylenol now. She tried to rub her temples, but she couldn’t move her hands, which she suddenly realized were tied to a chair. And then the last hours came crashing down on her like a tsunami.
“You fucking idiots. You were instructed not to bring her here. And she still has her cast on. You two were sampling the new shipment instead of doing your fucking job.”
She froze, relieved that she hadn’t opened her eyes.
With each word of the tirade, every horrendous detail at the spa came flooding back. She had been drugged—an injection to her neck explained the hangover from hell. The panicked claustrophobic sensation of being buried alive came from her last memory of being thrown into the laundry basket. Icy chills prickled along her skin. She fought the need to shiver, to not alert her captors to her wakefulness.
And then she remembered—Sten had been shot. The horrific sound of Sten hitting the ground was permanently fixed in her brain. Her eyes squeezed tight; she pleaded with God. She prayed for Sten to survive for Lars’s sake too. She didn’t believe that God would hold it against her that she hadn’t been in a church since her wedding.
“Can I have water, please?”
A desperate female voice came from Danni’s left. She wasn’t Miro’s only victim?
Her heart banged against her ribs so loudly that she wanted to cover her chest to dampen the sound. How long she could keep her unconscious act going before Miro arrived?
She had to escape. Danni opened her eyes a crack to assess. Two Hispanic men—the stocky one who had abducted her and the angry one—stood with a skinny Black man near a folding table and chairs covered in fast-food wrappers.
“You better start praying to Santa Muerte, because Miro is going to kill you, Paolo. Not for just sampling the product but because you’ve totally fucked up the entire operation. You didn’t kill that sicko cono like you were supposed to. She’s probably in custody right now telling the police how she put a device in that bitch’s cast to track her so she could kill her. And how long do you think it will be before the police are able to get a bead on the device and find this warehouse?”
Mission: Impossible to Protect (The Impossible Mission Romantic Suspense Series Book 6) Page 15