Gunner

by Heather Slade

  Raketa knew he wasn’t much older than her, maybe two or three years, but the life he’d led was etched on his face. The scowl he wore was ever-present, intimidating even his colleagues.

  She’d seen his compassion, though. When he held her in his arms the day they both believed she was dying, his eyes had softened as had his voice.

  “Rocket Girl,” he’d murmured, holding her close to him.

  As dangerous as the situation they were in had been, he still radioed for a medic, something she couldn’t say she would’ve done if their situations were reversed.

  She hadn’t fallen in love with him that day, nor had her fantasies about him changed all that much. He was the main reason she’d accepted the assignment to escort the woman who’d try to murder her that very day, to Moscow.

  The minute she’d heard the K19 team was on the woman’s detail, she’d immediately accepted. That she and Gunner were on opposites sides of the op hadn’t mattered. All she’d wanted was to be near him.

  If she was being honest, he was the main reason she’d decided to leave Russia permanently, essentially signing her own death warrant. Once he’d agreed to help her, she knew he’d keep her safe. Just like, somewhere in the back of her mind, she’d known he’d come for her in Baku.

  If he’d arrived twenty-four hours earlier, before she heard the wail of the woman who haunted her dreams, she would’ve gladly followed him to the ends of the earth, even if it had meant she simply worked by his side. That would’ve been enough, no matter how much her body craved more.

  She’d known he was drunk the night they’d spent together, just like she’d known he would likely not remember making love to her. Later, when they slept, just resting her head on his chest and feeling his powerful arms encircle her had given her a sense of peace unlike any she’d ever known.

  What would Gunner do once the plane landed? Would he hand her off to one of the other K19 operatives? If she somehow managed to escape and returned to Baku, would he forgive her for putting his life at risk only for her to return to the place from which he’d rescued her?

  It wasn’t as though she had a choice. If the woman whose cries she heard was who Raketa thought she was, she’d never be able to rest until she got her away from Makar Petrov.

  Raketa startled when Gunner came through the cabin door, just like she had earlier. She sat up, brought her knees to her chest, and clasped her arms around them.

  “We’ll be landing in London soon. We won’t be leaving the plane.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because London isn’t our final destination.”

  Raketa waited for him to divulge more information, finally realizing he had no intention of doing so.

  “Are you taking me to the States?” she asked, feeling sick to her stomach.

  Gunner nodded. “Unless you want to brief me on what your real plans are.”

  “I told you I am returning to Moscow.”

  “And I told you I know that isn’t the truth.”

  “United Russia will negotiate my release,” she said, refusing to look at him.

  “They’ll kill you, and you know it. And don’t bother telling me that you have something they want. If that were the case, you would’ve told me that weeks ago when you asked me to help you defect.”

  Gunner sat in the chair by the bed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees like he had earlier.

  “Shiver suggested we let MI6 interrogate you.”

  Raketa almost smiled. She knew Gunner would never allow that. If anyone interrogated her, it would be him or someone else from K19. Even then, it certainly wouldn’t be traditional. He had other ways of getting information out of her, and they both knew it.

  “Who will be my handler?”

  Gunner smirked. “Me.”

  5

  “My apologies, Zaryana,” Gunner said as he cuffed her hands and blindfolded her. Neither bothered her as much as his use of her given name.

  Rather than leading her off the plane, Gunner carried her.

  “This isn’t necessary,” she muttered.

  He didn’t respond other than to tighten his grasp.

  Navigating the exit stairs with her in his arms wasn’t difficult for someone with Gunner’s strength. His breathing didn’t become labored nor did he shift her position until he deposited her in the back seat of a vehicle and fastened the seatbelt around her.

  “Thanks, boys,” she heard him say before he closed the door behind her, and the car sped away. Only a few hours ago, he’d told her he would be her handler. Why had that changed?

  She waited for the other occupants in the car to speak to give her some clue as to who they were, but neither did.

  Resting her head against the window, Raketa wondered if she’d seen the last of Gunner Godet. Her heart hurt thinking it was.

  —:—

  There were several arrangements Gunner needed to make before taking Raketa to his island.

  He’d asked Mantis to secure the smaller of K19’s planes so he didn’t have to take her there by the same boat that would deliver their provisions. Once Mantis dropped them off, there would be no way for them to leave other than if Gunner summoned someone to ferry them to the mainland. The island itself was impenetrable. Both he and Shiv had ensured it was a veritable fortress.

  He’d likely thrown her off by depositing her with Dutch and Onyx at the airport, but most of what he needed to arrange required phone calls he didn’t want Raketa to hear.

  There were two things he needed to accomplish while they were underground. First, he needed to find out what her connection to Petrov was. Once Shiv succeeded in assassinating the evil sonuvabitch, Gunner had to be certain there would be no repercussions from or for Raketa.

  Second, he had to find out why she wanted him to believe she intended to return to Moscow and United Russia’s employ.

  “Hey, Raze,” Gunner said when his teammate answered the phone on the first ring.

  “Wonderin’ when you’d surface.”

  “I won’t be up for air very long.”

  “Heard you got Raketa.”

  “Roger that, but she doesn’t seem too happy about it.”

  Razor laughed. “You are an ornery bastard.”

  “I need your help.”

  “Name it.”

  Gunner knew that would be his friend’s response. It didn’t matter what either of them needed or wanted; the answer would always be yes.

  “Rocket Girl’s history begins at age eighteen. I need to know who she was before that.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Thanks, man. I’ll be back in touch when I can.”

  Razor didn’t ask where he was headed just like Gunner knew he wouldn’t.

  “You want me to send a smoke signal when I figure it out?”

  “Affirmative.”

  Gunner’s response told Razor everything he needed to know. He had just confirmed he was taking Raketa to Indian Springs Island.

  —:—

  They couldn’t have been on the road more than two hours when the vehicle they were traveling in came to an abrupt stop and the driver cut the engine.

  As she’d anticipated, the back door opened and a man helped her out. It wasn’t Gunner, but whoever it was had a similar physique. They still hadn’t spoken, which Raketa knew was intentional, maybe even Gunner’s orders. He was pissed, which meant he would do everything in his power to throw her off her game.

  They’d walked a few feet when she heard a door open and felt a whoosh of cold air hit her face.

  The man took her arm and led her inside, backing her against what felt like the edge of a bed. She sat down and waited while he unlocked the cuffs on her wrists.

  By the time she shook the tingling out of her hands and arms and removed her blindfold, he was gone, the door of the room shut and locked behind him.

  The room didn’t look any different than any other bedroom in any other safe house she’d ever been in. The windows were boarded over, and
the lock on the door was a deadbolt.

  She stood and stretched her arms over her head. There was no point in attempting to get out of here. It would be wasted energy. Soon enough someone would come for her, she only hoped it would be Gunner.

  The room was clean, and she could smell the sheets on the bed were freshly laundered. On the dresser she saw a bowl of fruit, various cheeses, bread, and a carafe of ice water. Another door opened to a lavatory. They’d certainly made concessions for her comfort, although not as lavishly as Petrov had.

  Raketa shook thoughts of him away. What she needed to focus on was crafting a plan to do what she wished Gunner had done in the first place—kill the sonuvabitch.

  After having a few pieces of cheese and some of the bread and fruit, along with several glasses of water, Raketa struggled to keep her eyes open. She lay down on the bed, knowing sleep was inevitable, only then did it dawn on her why. The bastards had drugged her.

  —:—

  “She’s out,” Onyx reported.

  “Roger that,” said Gunner. “The plane is ready. I’ll meet you there.”

  He had a very short window of opportunity if he wanted to get Raketa to the island before she came to. Once they were there, she’d have no means to leave. The closest land was a sixteen-mile swim.

  Gunner had no intention of harming her to get her to talk. He wanted Raketa to tell him the truth because she wanted to. That meant she had to trust him enough to open up, something her training had ingrained so deeply in her to never do. Breaking through those walls was going to take time.

  Gunner climbed into the small plane and put on the headphones Mantis handed him.

  “There’s a landing strip on the opposite side of the island,” he told him, pointing to the map.

  Mantis gave him a thumbs up before pointing to where the SUV had just parked.

  Rather than waiting for Onyx to bring Raketa to the plane, Gunner jumped out and carried her himself.

  “Thanks, boys,” he said, motioning for him and Dutch to head out.

  The flight plan Mantis had filed would carry them just so far. Once they got close to the island, the small aircraft would intentionally lose contact with radar, land, and be stored in a well-hidden hanger. Mantis would be picked up by the supply boat and transported north into Maryland where he would be met by CIA agents who would take him to headquarters.

  As much as Gunner disliked Striker, he had to give the guy props for delivering as much as he had on this op. He no longer worked for the agency—he was a K19 partner now—but he’d been able to secure support from his former employer that even Doc wouldn’t have been able to negotiate.

  * * *

  It wasn’t just getting Raketa to come clean with him that Gunner was concerned with. The threat against her from United Russia was very real. The last he’d heard, the bounty on her head had been raised to five mil. Doc was working hard to strike a deal with the modern-day equivalent of the KGB, but so far nothing he’d offered was equal in value to how much they wanted Raketa dead.

  UR wasn’t her only threat, though. There was a reason Petrov had taken her in the first place. If it had been for the money the Russians were offering, she would’ve been dead a long time ago. There had to be another reason.

  He turned around and studied Raketa’s sleeping form. Her beauty never failed to take his breath away or stir the kind of desire in him that no other woman ever had. They had chemistry. That much had been evident since the first time they saw each other and every time since.

  In the last few months, the other three founding partners of K19 had met and married women that each of them, at one time or another, had professed to be their soulmate. Gunner had never believed in the notion, nor the other crap people in love spouted off about.

  Each time he heard one of them go on about the love of their life, he couldn’t help but inwardly call bullshit.

  Mercer had been the first to tumble. He had fallen for Quinn Butler who, as it turned out, was Doc’s daughter. Until recently, no one had known she was, not even Doc. For sure anyway.

  The day Mercer told Gunner that he was giving up his partnership, retiring from the work they did, Gunner was incredulous. He couldn’t fathom why the kid would throw away his career and the kind of money being a K19 partner pulled in just for a woman.

  Doc was next when he announced his marriage, closely followed by his retirement. Gunner hadn’t been surprised. Doc had just returned from a harrowing two years of being held prisoner by a Russian faction that United Russia wanted annihilated far more than they wanted Raketa’s head on a platter. Doc’s wife, Merrigan, had been the one who rescued him along with UR’s help. Which was why now, Doc was taking the lead in negotiating for Raketa’s life.

  It wasn’t until Razor met Ava McNamara that Gunner began to believe in someone finding their one true love. Razor was as anti-bullshit as he was, and if there was anyone Gunner would’ve predicted would die a sexually sated bachelor, it would’ve been Tabon “Razor” Sharp. But his buddy had fallen hard and fast for Ava, refusing to accept anything less from her than spending the rest of their lives together.

  Razor had been on life support—close to death—but Gunner knew he fought his way back for Ava.

  When she came and found Gunner sitting in the chapel, praying that God would spare his best friend’s life, and told him that Razor was going to be okay, he’d closed his eyes and laughed, thinking that next time he wouldn’t be so quick to call bullshit on things he’d never admit to—like the idea that maybe Raketa was more to him than a woman he wanted to have sex with. Maybe the inexplicably insane level of attraction he felt when he was with her could one day grow into something deeper.

  He groaned at his own train of thought. He knew better than to think the kind of happiness that his teammates were experiencing would ever come to him. He’d learned that the day he’d killed Lena Hess. While he hadn’t loved her in the same way Mercer, Doc, or Razor loved their wives, the pain he felt when she died was the worst he’d ever known, until a few weeks later when his father died.

  “Everything okay, boss?” asked Mantis.

  Gunner nodded and looked out the window of the plane down at the deep blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

  He wished that Lena’s memory had nothing to do with Raketa, because every time he found himself thinking this way, it always ended with how he’d killed her the same day he saved Raketa’s life.

  He closed his eyes momentarily and shook his head, trying to shake her ghost. Lena was hardly the first, nor would she be the last, person Gunner was forced to kill. There’d been too many to count first with special forces when he was a Marine, and then when he became part of the CIA’s National Clandestine Service, and finally with K19. Ridding the world of bad guys was what they did, and it wasn’t something he ever allowed himself to think about long enough to have regrets. But with Lena, it had been personal, and her death had cut deeper than the rest combined.

  Even through the headset, Gunner could hear Raketa moan. Fearing she was coming to, he climbed to the back seat and shifted her so he could hold her in his arms. If she woke and reacted, he didn’t want her to go after Mantis who was flying the plane.

  Within moments it became clear that she was having a nightmare. He couldn’t decipher the words she said in her sleep, but for the second time, it sounded as though she was speaking Azeri instead of Russian.

  “Getting ready to land,” Mantis told him.

  Gunner got Raketa strapped in, climbed back into the front, and secured his own seatbelt. He looked ahead and saw the outline of his beloved island.

  It had taken time, but he’d finally amassed enough money that he could build the house on it that he’d always dreamed of. It wasn’t big, not like the house his mother and father had built when his dad retired from active duty, but it was big enough for him.

  When he initially drew up the plans, he’d only intended to have two bedrooms. Razor had convinced him that was short-sighted.

&nbs
p; “You might have family one day, or at the very least, a former operative who wants to live here too,” he’d said.

  “You aren’t welcome, and me having a family is an equally ridiculous notion.”

  “Better resale value if it has at least four.”

  Not that Gunner ever intended to sell it, but Razor had made a good point. If something happened to him, his mother and sister might not want to hang on to a house on an otherwise uninhabited piece of land in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay.

  His father had acquired the island from the Marine Corps while he was still a two-star general and was responsible for determining which land holdings that branch of the military should prudently hold on to, and which should be divested.

  If his father had tried to buy the island from the Marines now, even for a price that was fair, there’d probably be a congressional investigation into whether he’d unethically exploited his position.

  In those days, the Marines didn’t think twice about selling it to him. Doing so meant they didn’t have to go to the trouble of finding another buyer.

  A familiar feeling of pride engulfed his chest, knowing how happy his father would be knowing that he intended to retire here.

  The only part of what he was feeling that confused him was how anxious he was for Raketa to see it.

  * * *

  Mantis landed the plane effortlessly and helped bring their gear to the waiting four-wheel-drive vehicle while Gunner carried Raketa into the house.

  When he laid her on the bed, she opened her eyes.

  “Am I dreaming?” she asked.

  Gunner sat on the edge of the bed. “If you are and I’m in it, it’s not a dream, sweetheart, it’s a nightmare.”

  Raketa closed her eyes and then reopened them. “I wondered if I’d see you again.”

  “Why?”