The Princess And The Mercenary

by Victoria Paige

  Roarke walked out of the hangar on the private airfield. “Still need me?” His teammate had been back in the U.S. For days to start the inventory process of their assets.

  “No. Thanks for hanging around, keeping the runway and hangar open. I’ll close up,” Kade said as Roarke approached and met him midway between the parked vehicles and the plane.

  They exchanged a one-arm hug. “You sure you don’t want me to stay?” Roarke asked by his ear.

  “How long has Max been here?” Kade spoke low as they broke apart and he hitched his duffel higher on his shoulder.

  “An hour before you arrived.”

  “Brody.” Their analyst probably kept track of the plane and informed Max. Their analyst who’d been missing since the JAG investigation and whose whereabouts Max denied all knowledge of.

  “Yep,” Roarke agreed.

  “I’ll handle him.” His friend looked at him doubtfully before he nodded and walked to his pickup truck.

  Watching Roarke drive away, he slid out his phone to call Yara. He and Max needed to have a man-to-man talk, but that wouldn’t be today. Today, and for the next few days, he intended to lose himself in his girl who was fast becoming his reason for being.

  Her phone kept ringing until it went to voicemail. Bummed she didn’t pick up, he left her a voice message that he’d arrived back stateside and to let him know as soon as possible if she needed him to pick anything up on his way to her apartment. They were already sounding like an old couple. A smile touched his mouth.

  The BMW door opened and his friend—Kade still considered him one—stepped out.

  He hadn’t seen Max since four days ago when the Judge Advocate General handed in their findings and decision. SSRR was over. No court-martial. They still had obligations to fulfill to JAG … sort of like an ex-con needing to check-in with their parole officer. Kade and Max had to provide proof of business termination. Though Kade never regretted his decision to stand down on the Nasir op, it was proven that, over the past five years, the two had diverged in what they considered moral and right. Closing down the business gutted him, he’d poured sweat and blood and had treaded the fine line of moral ambiguity that had scored his soul with each op. But there was also a sense of relief—a relief of starting over with Yara at his side.

  “Spear,” Max greeted with a wry grin on his face.

  “When did you get back?” They stood two paces apart, wary vibes pinging between them.

  “Flew in straight from Djibouti,” his friend told him. “Heard you went back to Yemen?”

  “Had to take care of a few loose ends.”

  The JAG officers and the SSRR team stayed at Camp Ravine in Djibouti for the duration of the investigation. This was so they could make frequent flights into Yemen when JAG needed more facts to support their inquest. Garrison batted for Kade’s incursion into Al Qaeda territory to rescue Yara. The deal with JAG and, by extension, the DoD was that credit for the Jamal Al-Fayed capture would be credited to the SEALs. Kade had no problem with that. His team rarely got credit anyway and preferred to work in the shadows. The only regret he had was that Yara deserved recognition in the Al Qaeda capture. She said she didn’t care and Garrison agreed. It was better if her name was kept out of it to prevent fanatics from targeting her because of her very public image.

  “We need to talk,” Kade told him and then looked at his watch. “But I can’t do it right now.”

  Max’s mouth curved between a version of a sneer and grin. “Hot date?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Imagine you ending up with a hot little piece and set comfortably for life. I should try that myself and find an heiress to bankroll my lifestyle.”

  Kade kept control of his temper. “You done?”

  Max gave a short derisive huff. “What happened to us, Spear?”

  “First, that’s the last time you talk about her that way,” he gritted out. “As for what happened to us … what happened in Yemen simply proved we don’t believe in the same things anymore.”

  “You’re forgetting I pulled your ass out of that shithole.”

  “Always owe you my life for that, man. But, let’s be honest, that was just another job for you. Garrison told me you were paid handsomely for it.”

  “Fucking Garrison,” Max muttered. “So, what are you planning to do now? Play bodyguard to the rock star’s princess?”

  “Her safety is my priority, yes.” Yara indicated she wanted to go back to Yemen. Kade told her not to make any decisions until he was clear of the JAG investigation.

  “You’ve got it made, don’t you?”

  Max was baiting him.

  His friend didn’t know that Yara’s money didn’t bother him because that wasn’t who she was. They declared their feelings for each other after eating an MRE by their secret pond, outside the bullshit of money and the luxurious trappings of her identity.

  A vicious wave of malice blasted him from Max’s eyes. Kade almost reeled when he saw the hatred there. Max must have mistaken his smile for gloating, that he’d scored the goldmine with Yara. Uneasiness skittered up his spine as he checked his phone again; and Yara had not returned his call.

  “I really need to go.” He moved past his friend and called Yara again, heading for his Silverado. Each ring that her phone went unanswered escalated his anxiety. Another voice in his head made him look back at Max, who stood motionless watching him.

  On the seventh ring. “Kade!”

  “Tink, what the …”

  Static “… Max.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t trust …”

  Just as the loud crack echoed in his ear and the line went dead, the little hairs on Kade’s neck bristled and he saw the reflection of Max reaching behind his waist on the Silverado’s windshield.

  Kade turned and hurled the large duffel he was holding in Max’s direction, hearing his gun fire and bracing for his bullet to blast through. It didn’t. The bag smacked his friend center mass sending him staggering.

  By this time, Kade had dropped to a knee and grabbed his own gun from the side holster and brought it up to aim.

  Kill or be killed.

  Kade fired before Max could get off another shot.

  His friend reeled and fell to his back. Kade surged up and ran to him, kicking his gun away. Red spread across Max’s chest. His friend was coughing up blood.

  “Dammit, Max,” Kade growled hoarsely, gripping him by the collar and shaking him. “What did you do?”

  Max laughed and ejected more blood. “You’re too late … Brody …”

  Kade sprung to his feet, snatched the phone where he’d dropped it and dialed 9-1-1. He hopped into his Silverado and gunned the engine.

  He was attaching the phone to the cradle when the operator answered.

  “Nine one one, what’s your emergency?”

  “This is Kade Spear. Send units to 200 East Eighty-fourth Street, Manhattan.”

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  “Shots fired. Send fucking units to 200 East Eighty-fourth Street Manhattan. Apartment 602.”

  “Okay, sir, units dispatched to the address.” The operator repeated the address and then. “Who’s been shot?

  “Yara Emerson. She was in distress. I heard a gunshot and we got cut off.”

  “Units are almost there. We received another call to the same address.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Kade muttered. “Tell me she’s okay.”

  “I have no update. It was a neighbor who called.”

  “I’m going to call her again.”

  “Sir, stay on the line.”

  Kade already cut off and dialed Yara’s number. It went to voicemail.

  “Fuck.”

  He dialed 9-1-1 again. When another operator answered, he said, “Send an ambulance and unit to SSRR hangar adjacent to Teterboro.” Kade gave them the exact address. When the operator asked him for details, he said, “Suspect is injured with a sucking chest wound and might not survive, but he is armed and
could be dangerous.”

  Kade didn’t say any more and ended the call. His phone flashed, probably a return-call from 9-1-1, but he couldn’t get distracted now. His sole objective was getting to Yara.

  It was the longest drive across the George Washington Bridge of his life, even though the traffic was the lightest traffic he’d ever experienced. He didn’t have patience for much else and his driving was as aggressive as any New York driver. Kade kept checking the clock. He was losing his damned mind with each passing minute. It took him fifty minutes to arrive at the corner of E 84th Street and his stomach turned when he saw the strobing blue and red lights bouncing off the structures across Yara’s building. Cars were already backed up from that street and, knowing they wouldn’t let him park anywhere close, Kade shot past 84th onto 85th and parked illegally at the corner.

  Ignoring the shouts and curses from a building doorman and some pedestrians, Kade grabbed the phone and jumped out of his truck. He had an ankle holster with a secondary weapon so he tossed his semi-automatic in the glove compartment.

  Kade jogged on the sidewalk, making a left at E 84th Street, passing bodegas and restaurants, jostling leisurely pedestrians out of his way. An ambulance was up ahead as well as a fire truck. People walked by and glanced curiously but the spectating crowd was scant. Kade thought grimly that this must be like any other day in Manhattan.

  The door to the building was wide open, huddles of people, some in lounging coats talked to one another. Without hesitating, Kade barged through.

  He was immediately stopped at the elevators.

  “Do you live here, sir?” an officer asked him.

  “I called in the incident in 602,” Kade clipped.

  The man narrowed his eyes at him. “Your name?”

  “Kade Spear.”

  The cop spoke on his shoulder radio. Impatience lit every nerve in Kade’s body, his irritation almost too much to contain within his skin. Finally, he was let through to the elevators.

  When Kade reached the sixth floor, two cops were in the hallway interviewing residents. He cursed as a dachshund nipped at his ankle. Yara’s unit was up ahead and a man walked out from it.

  “Len!”

  Sully’s bodyguard glanced at him and waved him over.

  “He’s okay,” Len told the uniform.

  Kade strode purposely down the corridor, passing Len and into the room. “Where is she?” Without waiting for Len to reply, he called, “Yara!”

  He cleared the foyer and his eyes fell on the body of Jeff Kennedy—single gunshot to the head. Questions raced through his mind as he walked further into the room and saw Warren Brody. The analyst was facing sideways on the floor, blood pooling around his head. His anxiety skyrocketed. He couldn’t find Yara amidst all the strange faces in the room, and the chatter was making his head want to explode.

  “Tink!” he roared.

  The cacophony of conversation stopped and then he heard her.

  A softly spoken, “Kade.”

  A cop and an EMT stepped aside and revealed Yara sitting on a couch.

  “You’re here!” she cried, rising unsteadily to her feet.

  Kade swooped in and caught her, crushing her in his arms. One hand gripped the back of her head, holding her face to his chest as she sobbed. She pulled back and looked up at him. “I thought Max was going to kill you!”

  “You warned me in time.” Her eyes widened, and he kissed her hard, not caring if they had an audience. He dreamed of these lips for weeks and neither the fucker Max nor the asshole Brody was going to mess this up for them. He devoured her lips, infusing it with all the longing borne from their separation and the desperation that gripped him since he found out Yara was in danger.

  He broke the kiss. “You’re hurt.” He held up her hand which was in bandage.

  “Just a graze from the bullet. Warren shot the phone from my hand.”

  Kade glanced disdainfully at the corpse. “But it looks like you shot him.”

  Yara buried her face in his chest and didn’t say anything. Kade held her close, looking over her head at Len. “What happened?”

  “From what the cops were able to reconstruct. Brody shot Jeff. Yara smashed a pot of hot water on Brody and managed to get his gun.”

  “How did she get the jump on Brody?”

  Yara looked up. “The kettle of water I was boiling started whistling and distracted Warren. I kicked him in the nuts.”

  She put her head back on his chest.

  “Okay, that’s the missing piece,” the uniform beside them piped in. “Looks like your presence calmed her down, Mr. Spear. She was shell-shocked when we got here.”

  “Understandable,” he clipped. “What happened after?”

  “Yara picked up your call, but Brody had a second gun and shot the phone from her hand,” Len said. “Yara said she snapped and just unloaded on the fucker.”

  Kade’s gaze took in the state of the kitchen. Vertical surfaces were riddled with bullet holes.

  “One of the rounds hit Brody’s head,” Len finished.

  “How does Jeff play into all this?”

  Len was looking at Yara whose face remained buried in his chest. “Jeff was working with Brody.”

  “What?”

  “They wanted a memory stick that Denton sent her.”

  “How and when did you get here?”

  “Building supervisor called Sully. Sully called me. I got here in fifteen minutes. Yara was besides herself and told me to get a hold of Denton and warn him. He’s in protective custody right now as they go through his house and properties.”

  Sully had asked Len to keep an eye on Yara. Her kidnapping in Yemen had traumatized her parents so much, she said it would take a while for them not to worry at any given moment.

  And now this happened. Did he cause this?

  “Kade?” Yara whispered.

  “Hmm?”

  “Take me away from here.”

  “You got it, Tink.”

  33

  The phone exploded from her hand.

  Ignoring the searing in her fingers, she clasped both hands on the gun and fired.

  Repeatedly.

  Yara startled awake and she sat up in unfamiliar surroundings, an unfamiliar bed. Exposed beam ceilings and visible air ducts, brick walls. The man by the wide cross-pane window turned, phone to his ear—Kade.

  “Call you back,” he spoke to the phone, never taking his eyes off her. “Yara’s awake.”

  Tossing the phone on the desk, he walked toward her, a tentative smile on his face. He sat on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

  Yara wasn’t sure of the answer to his question, so she asked instead, “How long have I been sleeping?”

  “Not long. An hour. You crashed on our way here.”

  She looked around. “Here is?”

  “My place. It’s not exactly a house, more like a warehouse.”

  The night came rushing back. It had taken them another three hours before they were released because there was a question of jurisdiction since both incidents in New Jersey and New York were connected.

  “How’s Max?”

  “That was Roarke on the phone. Max’s in critical condition, but surgeons think he’ll make it.”

  “I don’t understand how he can think he can kill you and get away with it.”

  Kade smiled darkly. “You forget our company name … Retrieval and Recycling.”

  Yara’s mouth fell open. “Tell me you don’t have a wood chipper around.”

  His gaze softened. “Don’t think about it.”

  “Have you ever? Made a person disappear?”

  “Not in the way you mean. And not on U.S. soil.” Kade swallowed. “Max told me things though.”

  She rubbed her brow. “He almost killed you.”

  “Babe. He didn’t. Okay? I’m here in one piece.”

  “I can’t believe this happened,” she whispered. Jeff wanted her killed, betraying her in the most painful way. And Yara ki
lled a man. Kade took her into his arms and she let the familiar scent of bergamot and sandalwood fill her nose.

  “I’m sorry about Jeff,” he murmured. “And you did the right thing, but it’ll take a while for your mind to accept it. Brody was going to kill you.” Kade loosened his arms and stared at her, cupping her face. “The cops found a plastic bag in his backpack containing hair samples and fingerprint transfer kits.”

  She blew out a breath. “From what I gathered, they were going to frame you.”

  Kade nodded grimly, standing up and facing away from her, he bowed his head in defeat. He rested his hands on his hips, his shoulders rising and falling as if the weight of the world was entrusted to him.

  Yara got off the bed and padded toward him, touching his shoulder.

  “This happened to you because I brought those fuckers into your life,” he said hoarsely.

  “Don’t you dare blame yourself,” she ordered. “Jeff gave them a way in.”

  He faced her then, his features ragged with self-recrimination and her heart ached. “I’m not going to blame myself, if you follow your own advice,” he told her. “What you did was self-defense. Anytime you doubt what you had to do, talk to someone, talk to me. I’ve been where you are many times before. I’m here for you, Tink, understand?”

  Yara nodded vigorously as Kade pulled her into his arms once more, cleaving to her tightly.

  They clung to each other, their reunion tarnished by blood and betrayal, but they’d weathered worse before, and they would weather it again.

  Christmas was cancelled.

  At least for the Emersons.

  The family was still coming to terms with Jeff’s betrayal.

  Max didn’t even deny his involvement and wanted to cut a deal saying it was all Brody and Jeff’s idea.

  That was a job for the feds and the DoJ.

  Kade hated what had happened to his friend, but Max made his own bed and Kade had enough to work through with his own guilt for putting Yara in danger.

  The plan of them working through this difficult time together had a kink.

  Yara was not at his side as much as he wanted her to be. Sully and Zareen arrived and had taken her back to their Park Avenue apartment. Kade hadn’t even spent half a day with her in his warehouse loft.