His Last Breath

by S. M. Butler

  He shoved something into his pocket when he saw her. “Well, didn’t know we had company.” He stared at Chris.

  “You?” Abigail pointed at him. “How?”

  Chris frowned. “You know him?”

  “We ran into each other, yesterday. I bought her a drink.” His Irish accent echoed in the expanse of the garage as he shrugged. He walked over and held out his hand. “Jordan. Jordan Levi. Nice to meet you, love.”

  Chapter Six

  Pure fury emanated deep inside Chris’s chest, pounding away at his ribs like a caged beast. He glanced from Jordan to Abigail, frowning as Jordan held out his hand.

  “Jordan. Jordan Levi. Nice to meet you, love.”

  Nathan had gotten Abigail here on his own. He’d even sent Jordan ahead. Why?

  “Abigail,” she replied. She didn’t offer her last name at all this time. Her eyes were wary.

  Something wasn’t right. Not just with Nathan’s caginess about Abigail. Nathan was cagey most of the time. He played his hand very close to his vest. He saw the big picture, and he gave the team just enough information so they could carry out their particular part of his missions.

  But this wasn’t Nathan he was worried about at the moment.

  It was Abigail.

  She was being very deliberate about hiding who she was. She was here alone, no security. Granted, he hadn’t seen her in person in four and a half years, but every single picture he’d seen over the years, every special appearance she made… She’d always been surrounded by private security hired by Daniel Lewis. Now she was out here in the middle of Nowhere, Texas on her own with a flat tire, glaring at Jordan like she wanted to punch him.

  Jordan flashed his patented panty-dropper, still holding her hand, his thumb brushing over the back of it.

  “Hello, Mr. Levi.”

  “Jordan, for a beautiful woman.”

  “A minute, Jordan?” Chris growled. Abigail looked away from Jordan, pulling her hand back. Jordan almost looked reluctant to release it, but he did. “Abigail, if you want to wait in the truck, we’ll leave in a minute.”

  He grabbed Jordan by the arm without waiting for a reply from Abigail and pulled him a few feet away, hopefully out of earshot as he hissed at Jordan. “What the fuck, Jordan?”

  “What?”

  “You know who she is,” he said. He’d meant it as a question, but it didn’t come out that way.

  “Sure,” Jordan replied, frowning. “Nathan had me try to grab her yesterday. Spiked her coffee, but she didn’t drink it.”

  “Why?”

  “Nathan told me to,” Jordan said, shrugging. “He had me slip her the keys with the coffee and leave. I guess he was hoping she’d drink the coffee and pass out in the car.”

  “That’s a company car?” Chris asked. “It had a flat before it ever got to town.”

  “I don’t pretend to understand how Nathan Hawk operates. I did my part.” Jordan eyed him carefully. “What did he tell you?”

  “He told me where to pick her up and to bring her here.”

  “So why are you going to the car? She’s here,” Jordan said.

  “I don’t know,” Chris said. “I thought, if I helped her, and got her to drive here on her own, then she’d stick around long enough to tell me something about why Nathan wanted her in Jubilee.”

  “Why are you so interested? She’s a mark. A mission. We brought her here because Nathan wanted us to. She’s here. Job’s done.”

  Chris shook his head. “No. I know her.”

  “What d’you mean?”

  “I know Abigail. She was my first mission. Five years ago. Well, she was part of my mission.”

  Jordan’s eyes bugged. “Does Nathan know?” Chris gave him a look. “Of course he knows. It’s Nathan. I don’t understand why.”

  “Me neither. We’ve been investigating that bombing from yesterday. But there’s no way those tie to her. She hardly makes public appearances, and when she does, she’s usually with her father.”

  Jordan shook his head. “I’ll get Jack to help me. Maybe we can look for a link between her and the bombs.”

  “I’m going to take her out to her car. I think I can get her to talk if we’re alone.”

  “We all know I’m the smooth talker, Hardy,” Jordan said, grinning. “Maybe I should do it.”

  Chris shook his head. Not only did he suddenly not want Jordan anywhere near Abigail, he knew her history. She’d never talk to a man she didn’t know. But she knew Chris.

  “Fine.” Jordan glanced back at the truck. Abigail stood next to the truck, her eyes on the two of them, still wary. “If you need any backup… I’m here for you.”

  As he turned and left, Chris’s heart thumped wildly against his chest. Nathan was very clear on the operation staying as tight as possible. She couldn’t know what he really did. Generally, they didn’t bring in civilian assets. Not like Abigail. So what exactly was Nathan planning?

  Abigail hoisted herself into the truck as Chris approached. He got in and shut the door. Fixing her tire meant giving her a ticket to leave. That wasn’t his mission. But he also didn’t want to give her the impression she was a prisoner either, because if she had given her security the slip like he thought she might have, she would be a serious flight risk. It was easier to contain her if she stayed willingly.

  “Who is he?” She asked as he started the truck and pulled out onto the road.

  “He works here with me,” Chris replied.

  “He was in Galveston. He gave me a car to leave. Why would he do that?” She whispered the words. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “We can find out when we get back. Let’s just get your car fixed up, and we can go from there.”

  “I could just leave,” she said, her voice faint and weak.

  “You could. But don’t you want to ask him yourself?” Chris nearly kicked himself. He was manipulating her, making sure she would come back. He’d done it to dozens of marks in the last couple years. But somehow, this was different. This—doing this to Abigail—made him feel dirty.

  Orders were orders, though. He’d signed on the dotted line. He belonged to Nathan and that meant he did as Nathan told him.

  ~*~*~

  Chris parked about twenty feet from the car. Now that he knew it was a company car, he was more than a little wary of it. Why conveniently blow a tire? Company tires were bullet resistant and self-sealing. The only way they would blow completely was by design.

  He walked over to the car and knelt down by the tire. If you could call it that. The tire itself was shredded in a hundred pieces. Some of it scattered across the road, some of it left hanging around the wheel.

  “You said it blew?” He glanced back at her.

  She nodded. “Yeah, I heard the bang and then it got hard to steer.”

  Based on the way it had blown, he’d have guessed it blew from the inside, which meant someone had planted a small explosive inside the tire. A really small one, meant for incapacitation, not for killing.

  He stood up and opened the front door to pop the trunk. But something clicked as he did. Recognition flared at the sound. He grabbed Abigail and tackled her to the ground, her screams in his ears as he covered her with his body. A loud boom overwhelmed both of them, vibrating through his body. A searing heat wave blasted over the two of them.

  Then he couldn’t hear. The ringing drowned out any noise. His entire body burned with pain and yet, he couldn’t feel anything outside of it.

  Abigail?” He croaked. He groaned as he lifted up to his elbows. “Fuck that didn’t feel good.” He glanced down, her face still and her eyes closed. “Abigail?”

  Panic overtook him, but he tamped it back down. He felt for a pulse, blowing out a relieved sigh as he found a faint one. He’d saved her life once. He had no desire to be there at the end of it.

  She dragged in a heavy, desperate breath and coughed. He couldn’t hear it, not above the ringing. He glanced back, rolling off her body, to see the car completely engu
lfed in flames.

  He was going to kill Nathan. That’s all there was to it. Straight up strangle his ass. Nathan wanted her in town, and he’d nearly killed Chris to do it.

  “Abigail?” He brushed her hair from her face, cupping her cheek as she coughed herself back to life.

  She groaned and choked out, “I’m okay. I think.”

  He checked her over for injury, thankful that she looked fine beyond some burns and scratches. Her clothes looked worse for wear as well. She tried to sit up as he stood, and groaned, holding her fingers to the back of her head. They came away gleaming with red.

  He frowned. Head trauma wasn’t a good sign.

  He glanced at the car, the smoke billowing up tall and proud, and likely seen from the town at this point. He had to get Abigail out of here. Her desire to remain anonymous would end the second Sheriff Hannigan got his hands on her.

  “Come on,” he said, putting one arm around her waist and the other under her knees. “We gotta get back to town.”

  She didn’t say anything, holding her hand against the back of her head. She groaned as he rose with her in his arms. Her head lolled against his chest.

  He set her down on the seat and then took off his shirt. It wasn’t the cleanest, but it was better than the dirty oil-ridden rags he used for work. He pressed it against the back of her head and leaned her back. He lowered the seat a few inches so she reclined more comfortably, and put her hand back against the shirt and her head. “Keep that there, okay?”

  She nodded, closing her eyes.

  He frowned and buckled her in instead of responding. He shut the door and pulled out his phone as he walked around to the driver’s side. He tapped out a quick message and got in the truck.

  We need to talk.

  The reply was there before he buckled in.

  Briefing room. I’ll be there shortly.

  He stared down the road. Abigail was conscious, her breathing was even. She even responded when he said her name. But she needed medical care. Jubilee had one urgent care clinic and it was more of a call-the-doctor-if-you-need-help sort of clinic. Doctor Monroe would ask a lot of questions to make sure her patient got the best care possible. Most of them, he couldn’t even answer for himself yet.

  “I’m about to do something really bad,” he said.

  “Worse than an exploding car?” She asked, her voice quiet and croaky.

  “Possibly,” he whispered.

  He started the truck and roared past the wreckage. He counted the mile markers to three, then turned off the main road into the overgrown field. He drove onto the platform, hidden by the overgrowth, and stopped.

  “Sierra, open the back door, please.”

  “Yes, Agent Hardy.”

  Abigail’s eyes popped open, both of them bloodshot from the smoke and pain she was in as she locked eyes with him. But before she could say a word, the truck began to drop into the ground.

  She sat up, her eyes wide, as she still held his shirt against her head. She leaned forward to look up as the platform dropped them down about fifty feet, then the hole above them closed, encasing them in darkness. Chris flipped the headlights on and drove them forward about a quarter of a mile until they drove into a huge chamber that contained a number of other vehicles the Company owned.

  He knew from experience from the outside, the brush would cover any tracks he’d left. The real problem was sitting beside him, with wide eyes and a bleeding head.

  ~*~*~

  Abigail sat still, watching as Chris parked the truck. The place was dark except for a few fluorescent lights every few feet but they didn’t illuminate the entire area, which was big from where she sat.

  She stared straight ahead as he came around to her side and opened the door.

  “Can you walk?”

  She blinked at him, trying to find the words she needed but instead, she nodded and released her seatbelt. She started to climb out, swinging her legs out but he placed his hands on her waist and lifted her out easily.

  She wobbled on her knees for a second, but she gripped his arms and thankfully remained standing as she stared at Chris. “What is this place?”

  Her whisper echoed in the expanse of the room. A shuddering breath escaped her.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Do you trust me?” he repeated.

  Did she? She had to admit, she barely knew him. But for all the times she’d seen him, he’d put her as the priority. First, he’d pulled her out of a living hell. Second, he’d come to visit and he’d asked how she was. He’d never done anything to hurt her before.

  She swallowed. “Yes. I trust you.”

  “Okay. I’m going to take you somewhere I can treat that wound on your head. I need you to hold tight to me. Don’t veer off, just stay with me.”

  She nodded, and slid her fingers into his, lacing them together. He glanced down at them, almost surprised at the touch.

  “Chris… I don’t… what’s going on? What is this place?”

  “I’ll explain soon,” he gently murmured. “Let’s get you taken care of first. Please.”

  He gently pulled her toward him, like he was testing if she’d follow. She’d already said she trusted him, so she let him. They walked through doors that led into a narrow hallway, as dimly lit as the room they’d parked in. The walls were smooth, almost metal looking, slightly reflective of the lights that were placed every few feet.

  He placed his hand on the wall next to another door, and it buzzed as a green light scanned under his palm and then the door beeped open. He pushed it open, the bright light beyond nearly blinding her as they entered what looked like a small medical facility.

  She scanned the room, letting go of his hand so she could turn around in a circle. A faint smile played at his lips as he placed his hand at the small of her back and gently pushed her toward the examination bed.

  “Sit.”

  She did, but she wasn’t sure where to focus her attention. There had to be thousands of dollars worth of medical equipment here. Rows of medications locked inside glass cabinets. Stacks of bandages and a bunch of other first aid supplies.

  Chris got a bunch of gauzes and a bottle of antiseptic and came around to her back. She gazed over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  “You hit your head. I just want to clean up the wound and see how bad it is, if you need stitches or not.”

  “Okay,” she said and turned her head away from him. She wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing, but she hissed when she felt the cool cotton ball cleaning the open wound.

  “Sorry, I know that stings.”

  “I’m fine,” she whispered. They were silent for about five minutes while he worked. Every so often, he readjusted her hair, his fingers brushing against her neck as he flipped her hair over her shoulder.

  Finally, he pressed a dressing against her skull, and gently gripped her hand and pressed it against the clean bandage. “Hold that there for a second.”

  She did as he told her. He grabbed what looked like a sports wrap but thinner and started to wrap it around her head. “What’s that?”

  “Just something to hold the dressing in place for now.” He wrapped the white material around her three or four times until he taped it down at her forehead. “Lie back. On your side.”

  She let him lower her to the bed, his hands supporting her as she turned to her side, away from him. He walked to the nearby table and she heard the rustling as he worked.

  “Chris?”

  “Yeah?” His voice was louder as he came back to her. “I’m here.”

  “Thank you.”

  He was silent for a moment while he brushed her hair away from her neck, his fingers running along her hairline. He clipped something on her middle finger and attached something else around her upper arm. She glanced back at him, confused.

  “Sierra, monitor vital signs. I need to know as soon as anything changes.”

  “Of cours
e, Agent Hardy,” the computer voice purred.

  Agent Hardy. It had called him that earlier too. What was going on here? She started to ask when she felt the prick in the side of her neck. She gasped and turned toward Chris, who had the good sense to look guilty as hell, syringe gun in his hand.

  “You son of a bitch,” she slurred as the sedative took hold of her.

  “Just rest. I’ll be back soon.”

  She tried to grab him, but her motor functions had already stopped responding the way they should have. Her arm flopped. He grabbed both her hands and held them inside his much larger ones.

  Her breaths got shorter as the dark blossomed around her, threatening to overtake the bright room. She groaned as she slipped out of existence and into the darkness.

  Chapter Seven

  Chris ran his fingers along Abigail’s hairline, marveling at how soft her skin felt, despite the millions of little freckles that peppered her skin. He hated to leave her like this, alone in a strange place in case she came to, but he had to talk to Nathan and he didn’t want to worry about her wandering around and getting into trouble. Or worse, collapsing somewhere he couldn’t get to her.

  She was going to be pissed when she woke up.

  “Sierra, lock the doors behind me. She doesn’t leave.”

  “Confirmed, Agent Hardy.”

  He leaned down and kissed her forehead, closing his eyes as his lips touched her warm skin. Her warmth seemed to spread all through his body in the brief seconds they were connected.

  Then he left the room.

  The entire team had already congregated when he made it to the briefing room. Jordan was at the curve of the U-shaped table, his black boots crossed at the ankles, and he leaned back in the chair, his hands behind his head. Jordan very rarely ever lost his cool, and now was no different.

  Scott sat behind the computer as usual, not even glancing up as Chris entered. Scott Muldoon was the first team member Chris and Nathan picked. They’d needed a good tech guy, and Scott was the best. He’d grown up in Boston, but his computer skills had landed him in a French intelligence prison cell, which was where Nathan had recruited him.