Mission: Impossible to Protect (The Impossible Mission Romantic Suspense Series Book 6)

by Jacki Delecki

  Luna had put a tracking device in her cast and planned to kill her? Danni wasn’t sure if she would vomit, but the urge to gag rammed hard.

  “You didn’t tell me that there would be a guard right outside the spa door. He would’ve heard the shot. And I didn’t think Miro would want a gun battle in the hotel.”

  “And who put you in charge of making decisions? You were supposed to deliver her to the house. Not to the warehouse. Miro is headed to the house, and if she isn’t there when he arrives, he won’t just kill you, but also those two cute daughters of yours. And what he’ll do to your wife…”

  Miro was on his way to make her his latest sick game. Panic jolted through her as if she had taken a defibrillator to the chest. She had to get away before they took her to Miro. How long before Lars would find her, now that he hopefully knew about the tracking device? Any amount of time with the perverted monster would be too long. Lights flickered behind Danni’s eyelids as all the blood left her head. Could she faint sitting down?

  “Get her into the car and then throw her cast into the street when you get away from the warehouse.”

  The boss’s voice moved closer, as did the sound of the steps shuffling on the cold cement floor under her bare feet. She just realized that her feet weren’t bound to the chair. Score one for the victim because of Paolo’s love of the white powder. They must have made her walk from the car inside the warehouse. She didn’t remember any of it.

  “What happened to her face? You weren’t supposed to touch her.”

  She couldn’t breathe, knowing the men were looking at her. She tried to keep her face slack, but it was near impossible with the adrenaline surging through her. She was afraid she would gasp out loud from holding her breath.

  “She broke my nose with the fucking cast. What was I supposed to do?”

  “Follow the fucking orders! Did you touch her?”

  “I slapped the bitch. That’s it.”

  “Don’t you dare touch her again. Now… Get her out of here and get rid of the damn cast.”

  To Danni’s relief, Boss Man’s voice grew more distant.

  “Rico, get the van. You and Torres load up the product and take it to the other site. I’ll have to get the truck for the women. If you two fuck this up, Miro will kill all of us.”

  Danni had only one chance to take Paolo down before Rico and Torres returned. Her feet and legs were free. She just needed to deliver her kick to the most vulnerable spot. Could she lift the chair over her arms and hit Paolo?

  Her body shook with high-octane anxiety. She tried to relax, concerned that she’d tip off Paolo that she was awake and ready to use her cast again as a weapon, as well as her feet and the chair. She had one advantage—Paolo’s threat of killing her was a bluff. How was he going to gain her cooperation to go along to be carved up by Miro?

  With her eyes closed, her other senses heightened. She heard distant footsteps and a door close as Boss Man left. Paolo’s body stench alerted her to his closeness.

  She willed herself to remain relaxed while she assumed Paolo stared at her. And then with her heartrate doing the Indy 500 in expectation of taking Paolo down, she heard him walk away, and then the sound of rattling papers.

  Was he planning to eat before turning her over to become human sushi for Miro? She cracked her eyes open, taking a risk that he’d see her.

  Bent over the table, his back to her, Paolo was doing a line of cocaine. He obviously didn’t take Boss Man’s death threats too seriously, or he needed fortifications, knowing he was a dead man. Hopefully, cocaine didn’t give Paolo the strength of superman. One thing was crystal clear: Paolo would be unpredictable and more of a risk.

  Danni took Paolo’s distraction to assess the room and her best way to escape. She was in a long room with wooden crates stacked as high as the row of small windows a good twelve feet above the floor of this former factory.

  The front door through which the men had exited was closed. The door to her left was partially open, where she’d heard the woman pleading for water. Danni blinked and stared, unable to believe the sight—women in steel cages. It was too ghastly to be true. She might totally blow her cover since acid burned up her throat, and she was about to hurl.

  She glanced back at Paolo, who was still occupied at the table. She looked again, trying to suppress her outrage and shock. She could see at least twenty women in the two cages. Too many to help escape right now, but she would come back.

  The rage at what these monsters had done gave her strength and conviction to fight Paolo to her last breath. It wasn’t just about her now. She would not allow them to victimize these women further.

  She looked back at Paolo, with his head bent and definitely going for another line. Or maybe he hadn’t finished. She twisted to assess what was behind her. There was an exit forty feet away. She couldn’t tell at this distance if the door was locked. But she couldn’t worry about the possibility, or she wouldn’t make a move.

  She breathed slowly and quietly and waited for her chance…

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lars lasted no more than ten seconds in the ER’s waiting room, where he had been directed by the harried receptionist. The stillness of the sterile white room was too much, even for the hardened Marine Raider. The only other people were an elderly man bent over a cane, dabbing his eyes with a rumpled handkerchief, and the mother who white-knuckled a child’s teddy bear. He had seen a lot of suffering in his years in K-stan, but the silent tears and profound grief drove him to flee the space. He paced the antiseptic halls, the linoleum floor creaking under his boots. His eyes were glued to the door where Sten was fighting for his life.

  Powerless, unable to charge in and save his brother, he wanted to punch someone or, at least, punch a hole in the wall. Waiting with no control was not an easy situation for someone who, if challenged, could kill a man in hundreds of creative ways. Lars contained his violent urges and paced instead.

  Where was Dylan? He was supposed to park after dropping Lars off. He had been gone at least twenty minutes. Where did he park? In Harlem? Lars looked back at his watch. Twenty-six minutes to be exact.

  He began pacing again, watching the door to the “room” where his twin was being worked on. Lars looked up to find the receptionist’s eyes on him. He tried to read her expression, looking for any clue about the condition of his brother. She gave no hint with her blank look and then quickly turned to answer the ringing phone.

  He paced and prayed between checking his watch and his phone. Sten, behind that fricking door, was fighting to stay alive because of Lars. He should have been adamant that he’d be the one to guard the women. But Sten, like Danni, wanted him to go to the meeting. All for a movie deal. As if that mattered. And then the realization hit that if he had been the one to stay, Lars might be the one in the hospital, and Danni would be on her own.

  Guilt and shame washed through him, fueled by his grateful feelings that he was not the one wounded. He would find Danni, and then he’d kill Miro if the twisted son of bitch had touched her.

  The crazy part of the twins’ communication was that Lars had no doubt that Sten would want Lars to use his skills to hunt for Danni, just as Lars would want Sten to fight for Izzy. Lars needed to check on Izzy and arrange to get her to the hospital once she was cleared by both the MDs and the FBI.

  Sten would want to see Izzy when he awoke. And Lars had to believe Sten would wake…

  Lars heard the door open and looked up to see a middle-aged woman with round, black glasses in scrubs and cap speak to the receptionist. When the receptionist pointed at him and handed the doctor a clipboard, Lars widened his stance and braced himself. The military posture helped him slip into a well-defined and familiar role where he felt in control. Despite that, his heart thundered like a Harrier aircraft on takeoff.

  “Mr. Jenkins?” Her voice was brisk, and her dark hair with streaks of gray peeked out of her cap. “I’m Doctor Childers. I’m Head of Thoracic Surgery.”

&nbs
p; Her compassionate look sent Lars’s gut dropping into a free fall as his mind careened out of control, afraid her next words held the power to devastate him.

  “Your brother needs immediate surgery. He is in critical condition and will not survive without the intervention. I need you to sign this paper giving me permission to perform the surgery to remove a bullet from the left lower lobe of his lung and repair the lung damage.”

  Lars heard “will not survive,” and his brain shut down.

  “He’s stable now but cannot remain so if we don’t intervene. The damage from the bullet has caused extensive bleeding into his lungs and into the lung compartment, which surrounds the heart. It doesn’t allow the lungs to deliver oxygen at an effective pressure to the heart. We’ve placed a chest tube to remove the blood that isn’t allowing adequate space for the lungs to expand effectively. We’re replacing the blood he’s lost, but he continues to bleed. He’s in shock and unable to maintain his blood pressure. The risks associated with his condition and the required surgery are high. There is a chance he will not survive the surgery.”

  Why did she keep repeating that Sten might not survive? Rage and hopelessness formed a molten mess in his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. He braced his hand on the wall. He was a Jenkins, so he’d be expected to handle anything. His brain scrambled to process the onslaught of information. Could he place his twin’s life in this woman’s hands?

  “I’m very good at what I do. And I’ll do my damned best to save your brother. But time is of the essence. Laronda will have you finish the paperwork. I want to make sure you understand the situation and the risks.” She handed him the clipboard.

  Lars’s hand shook as he signed the form without a glance.

  “Thank you. He’s my twin, and I don’t know…” He stuttered because he couldn’t voice imagining a world without Sten.

  “He’s a marine, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then, Semper Fi.”

  And for the first time, Lars felt a glimmer of hope.

  “Prepare yourself for a long wait. It will be several hours. Do you have anyone to keep you company?”

  “I’m fine. Please take care of Sten.”

  She briskly nodded, then turned and left the waiting area.

  Lars watched as she disappeared behind the doors. Fear lodged in a massive lump in his throat and his eyes burned. Sten would know exactly how to make this awful moment pass. When shit got too heavy, Sten would make an irreverent joke that would have Lars cracking up. Or as an alternative, Sten would goad Lars into getting pissed off, giving both brothers a reason to let off steam. The physical contact provided the release to get past the worry and pain.

  “Lars.”

  Dylan’s voice jarred Lars. Lars needed some action right now—time to kick some ass and redeem himself from turning into a sniveling fool.

  “Any word, man?” Dylan searched Lars’s face.

  At this moment, Lars hated the ability of operators to read people and gauge their emotions and intentions. He had zero interest in examining or sharing his feelings. Sten was the only person Lars commiserated with—not with words; they just understood. His twin was in danger, and there wasn’t a fucking thing Lars could do.

  “He’s in surgery to remove the bullet. It’s going to be a while before we know anything…” He swallowed hard. He needed to get away from the ER that smelled of fear.

  Lars gave Dylan credit for refraining from commenting, just jerking his head.

  “I’ve got updates. I’ve been on the phone the entire time.”

  “Let me get outside. I can’t breathe in this place.” Lars nodded toward the doors.

  The men walked away from the ER entrance as an ambulance pulled in. Both men followed a path that passed through a carefully landscaped area designed to give a sense of order to the entrance to the chaotic world of life and death.

  Lars stopped once they were out of sight of the ambulance and glimpses of other people’s suffering.

  “Ryder is on his way with Izzy. Once she arrives, if you’re okay to leave the hospital, we’ll meet up with the FBI SWAT team. They have a lead on Danni’s possible whereabouts—”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Lars clenched his fists at his side to stop himself from taking a swing. “Why didn’t you tell me about the lead on Danni immediately?”

  Dylan didn’t flinch at the threat, which made Lars feel like a giant asshat.

  “Because you have a lot of shit coming at you. And I didn’t want to assume—”

  “You can assume that I want to know everything. Sten wouldn’t want me wringing my hands in the waiting room. He’d expect me to be out doing everything to find Danni and the fucker who shot him.”

  “We don’t have to wait until Izzy arrives…”

  “No, I need to share with her what the surgeon told me.” Lars didn’t want to wait, but he had to take care of Izzy. Sten would have wanted Lars to give Izzy the surgeon’s debrief. It would be a shitshow since he couldn’t remember much, and what he did remember, he didn’t want to repeat. “And I need to make sure she’s okay.”

  How was he going to reassure Izzy when all he had was wishful thinking and lies?

  “How did they get the lead? Did Izzy remember something?”

  “It’s the craziest shit. The FBI tracked the SUV plates from street cameras. Luna Star is the one who tried to run Danni down in Santee Alley. When she wasn’t successful, she placed a tracking device in Danni’s cast during the massage. That is how she knew about Danni being in New York. The woman is one disturbed chick. She tried to commit suicide a few years back when the press ran a story that Alex had a serious girlfriend. And then, when Danni showed up acting like his girlfriend, Luna focused her hatred on Danni. She followed Danni to New York to kill her.”

  Lars couldn’t wrap his brain around the newest information. “But she’s Hardy’s massage therapist?”

  “When Hardy took a fall on stage that she arranged, she became his massage therapist. Hardy didn’t recognize her, but her obsession started when she lived on the same floor as Hardy’s college girlfriend in two thousand six. She hasn’t confessed, but the FBI thinks she killed Hardy’s college girlfriend. Her family covered it up. Luna’s an heiress and has been in and out of psychiatric facilities for treatment. When her mother died eight months ago, there was no one to keep her in check, and her obsession with Hardy escalated. She has the money to do anything and hire people to help her.”

  “What’s the connection between Luna and the cartel? Roland Young?”

  “Luna doesn’t know how the cartel tracked the connection between her and Danni. Grayson’s theory is that the cartel got it out of either Roland Young when they tortured him, or out of Silas, the latest boyfriend.”

  Lars didn’t give a flying rat’s ass about Luna Star’s mental state or her obsession with Hardy. The good news was that Luna Star, who gave Danni up to the cartel, might also be the way to save Danni. Lars needed good news, and this was it. It was still on him that he allowed Luna near Danni, and he’d never forgive himself for his poor decision.

  “The FBI is able to track the device?”

  Soon he’d get Danni out of the hands of another psycho.

  “Both the FBI and Reeves were able to hack into the system. Reeves has been feeding the info, so I don’t have to wait for Grayson to report. But Grayson got us permission to join the assault on the warehouse. We’re not exactly assaulting, but you’ll be there if we find Danni.”

  Lars couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that Danni wouldn’t be there. But if the cartel knew about the tracking device, why wouldn’t they remove it? He shut down the image of Danni enduring those filthy hands on her.

  “They’re holding Danni in a warehouse outside of Brooklyn near Bushwick. Part of the Bushwick Crew gang territory. Every alphabet agency is involved, which is slowing the whole process. Grayson will text me when they have the team in place, but it will be in the next hour.�
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  Lars reached to text Ryder when his and Dylan’s phones pinged that Ryder and Izzy were at the ER waiting room.

  Lars wasn’t prepared for Izzy rushing him and wrapping her arms around him when he came through the door. Her quiet sobs against his chest shook his control.

  “The receptionist wouldn’t disclose anything since I’m not a family member. And I thought…” Her voice broke on a sob.

  “Hey, hey.” He patted her on the back. “You’ve gotta have a little faith in the man. Sten is one strong son of… He’s not going to let one bullet stop him.”

  Her teary eyes searched his. “You really believe he’ll be okay?”

  Comforting Izzy, Lars felt comforted too. “I do.” And Lars did believe. “Sten has you to live for. He’ll fight so damn hard not to leave you.”

  And Lars knew Sten would fight not to leave Lars as well.

  “The chest surgeon explained to me that she has to repair his bleeding lung and remove the bullet. It will be a long surgery, and there are risks. She had to tell me the worst-case scenario, but she has total faith that Sten will recover.”

  “You and Sten are so much alike. Thank you for ‘softening’ his condition. I know what the risks are, but like you, I believe Sten will fight to live for both of us.”

  Lars tightened his hold on Izzy. He complained about dealing with all these new women, but he was really grateful to have a sister now.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Lars repeatedly slammed his clenched fist into his cupped hand while he waited, the sound and motion helping him remain in control. He stood away from the SWAT team. The men read him correctly and kept their distance. As he slammed his palm with his fist, he envisioned his fist meeting Tom Harris, the SWAT commander, huddled with the FBI and DEA agents.