Man Hunt

by Misty Evans

  Mia may have wanted to punch Josefina, but Ryker wanted to wipe Hinch’s confident smirk off his face. “Yes, we have a deal with the weapons. I have your number. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Time is of the essence,” Hinch said, then seemed to notice Mia and the baby. “Oh, are you getting a kid?”

  As if a baby were nothing more than a commodity. Mia’s face snapped up, pure hatred on it. Hinch missed it though, his gaze on the boy.

  Ryker stepped in front of the bastard, bringing the man’s attention back to him. “My wife and I will be staying an extra day. If you’re around tomorrow, let’s have a drink and talk.”

  Hinch nodded and took off, following Kaiser out. Ryker whirled and met Mia’s eyes. She looked both pissed that he’d intervened and slightly relieved.

  We didn’t come this far to blow it now.

  With another kiss to his forehead, she faced Catherine. “The child needs you tonight and I have nothing for a baby. I’ll have to shop for some things tomorrow.” She handed the child to his mother’s waiting arms, Catherine giving a loud sob as she hugged the little boy against her chest.

  Mia slipped a hand into Ryker’s and let him lead her out of the dungeon.

  Chapter Eleven

  Breaking the rules to save the mission

  * * *

  Mia was a hot mess. There was no other way to describe it. She couldn’t even remember the elevator ride or anything Ryker had said to her while in it.

  Those girls. Those poor, poor girls.

  They were living in a dungeon, alone except for each other, forced into a situation that meant giving up their babies.

  Exhaustion spread to her bones. She wasn't just physically tired, she was emotionally a wreck.

  Inside their room, Ryker guided her to the edge of the bed. He took off her shoes then brought her a glass of water. “Still feeling woozy?”

  She could barely lift her hands to accept it, or to raise her eyes to look at him. The water tasted flat; she had trouble choking it down. Handing it back to him, she hoped her eyes could convey what she couldn't say out loud.

  What are we supposed to do now? How do we help the girls in the dungeon?

  They had the needed evidence to shut down Karl. Parker had said something about also exposing Hinch while they were in the elevator, but Mia's ears had been ringing, her brain in a fog. All she kept hearing were the baby’s cries, the mother’s as well.

  “You'll feel better after you get some sleep,” he said. Don't worry. I'm going to handle it. “Let me help you change.”

  His hand was gentle as he coaxed her from the bed and into the bathroom.

  He shut the door behind them and turned on the shower. Slowly, he peeled her dress off and let it pool on the floor. She took her earbud out and placed it on the counter, not even caring he was seeing her naked yet again.

  He tested the water with his fingers, then drew her into the tiled shower. It felt cavernous as he began to withdraw, empty.

  Just like the hole in her heart.

  Not only for the girls downstairs, but for her sister, for Jaeger and Petra. And yes, even for herself. All the parents who’d lost children, all the children who’d lost their parents.

  Pressure built fast behind her eyes, in her chest. She grabbed Ryker’s arm, tugging him in with her.

  He was still fully dressed but didn't seem to care. She crossed her arms over her stomach, a sob wrenching from her mouth as she faced the water spray. She should be happy. They’d done what they came for, completed the mission.

  So why did she feel so awful?

  Ryker’s arms went around her, hugging her back to his warm, solid chest. Her knees shook, threatening to go out from under her, but he held her up and made soothing noises. His lips were close to her ear. “Let it out. I got you. You're safe.”

  Damn him. That only made her cry harder.

  It was the first time she’d let herself break down since her parents had perished in the accident. She'd had to be strong for Chloe, pretend she knew what the hell she was doing. In reality, she hadn’t had a clue.

  And then she'd screwed up and put Chloe in the hands of that menace, lost her job with the CIA, and her dreams had gone down the drain, like the water now swirling at her feet.

  She sobbed again, a big, ugly sound ripping from her mouth, all the pent-up fear and anger exploding out of her. She beat her hands against the tiles, bam, bam, bam. Over and over again, until blood ran down the marble and Ryker grabbed her wrists, turning her to face him.

  But she wasn't done, the anger bubbling up like a volcano pushing boiling lava out of her chest and into her throat. She was so caught up, she kept right on beating her fists against his chest, smearing her blood on his white shirt.

  How dare men like Kaiser and Hinch take advantage of desperate women such as Catherine or innocent young girls like Chloe.

  Ryker didn't try to stop her from hitting him, didn't tell her to stop. He stood there and took the beating. Eventually, the lava cooled, her fists slowing until her fingers could only grasp the bloodied shirt of the man holding her.

  When she completely ran out of steam and tears, he held her, sliding his fingers through her hair to comb the wet strands out of her face. She laid her head on his chest, her ears searching for his calming heartbeat. He lifted one of her hands and kissed the ragged scrapes there.

  No more crying, she told herself. Whatever happened, she had to help those girls. Nothing else mattered—not her job, not her relationship with Ryker. She had to save them and their babies too.

  She lifted her head, found Ryker staring down at her. Concern etched his face, but there was no judgment there. Mia drew in a shaky breath.

  This was it. Possibly their last night together, although she hoped not. She didn't know what would happen tomorrow. She had no clue how she was going to help the girls downstairs, but right now, in this moment, at least she had Ryker.

  Her trembling fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt. The first gave easily but the second resisted. Ryker gently took her hands, forcing her to look at him again. His eyes searched hers, questioning. Is this what you really want?

  In answer, she jerked her hands from his, gripped each side of his shirt and wrenched it open.

  Eager now, she shoved the wet fabric over his shoulders and off his arms. Her hands roamed his muscles, his tattoos, his nipples. She wanted to touch him all over, kiss him all over.

  One of his hands cradled her head as he brought his lips down on hers. She arched, offering him her mouth, her body, her heart. Offering him everything.

  He lifted her onto the half wall of the shower stall. The planter crashed to the floor on the other side as he seated her and spread her legs wide. He stepped back and looked her over from head to toe, removing the rest of his clothes, his eyes hungry and feral.

  When he touched her again, his fingers worked magic, first on her breasts, then skimmed down her ribs, her stomach. One eased between her legs and into her folds, already slick and ready for him.

  His mouth traced her neck, her collarbone. He nipped at her shoulder, slipping one finger then a second inside her. She gripped him harder, digging her nails into his back, and still his mouth dipped lower, teasing each nipple and making her gasp.

  “Please,” she pleaded, the water raining down his broad shoulders.

  Those wicked fingers created a rhythm as they stroked in and out. His tongue on her breasts, lips sucking at her nipples, made her heart pound a background bass. Releasing a breast, he put a hand on her hip, anchoring her to the wall as he lowered his mouth down, down, down, finding his target.

  The touch of his tongue on her sensitive spot nearly made her orgasm right there. He flicked, kissed, and gently bit her into a frenzy, her legs going over his shoulders, her hands gripping the edge of the wall as she bucked her hips, needing, wanting…

  “Oh God! Yes, yes…”

  It was no acting job this time. The orgasm hit with the force of a freight train. Her vision
went white for a heartbeat. She rode the waves cresting over her, her release so powerful she thought she might lift clean off the wall.

  But Ryker was there, fingers and tongue milking it while keeping her steady, not letting her slip off her seat.

  When she was boneless, eyes half closed, body melting, he stood. Her tongue snuck out to lick her lips at the sight of him, hard and ready for his turn.

  Nearly giddy to get her hands on him, she slid to her knees in the water, taking him in her mouth. He put a hand in her hair, urging her on. He filled her, her throat eagerly straining to accommodate him.

  Water ran down her face, the taste of it mixing with his, and she knew one night would never be enough. She wanted him for a dozen, hundreds…

  She felt him shift, and she had to let go, her tongue, her lips aching from the absence of his thickness. Strong arms lifted her, carried her out of the shower. He laid her on the large, soft rug on the floor and knelt over her.

  God, he really was huge, and her legs automatically fell open, her hand reaching to guide him inside her.

  While the shower continued to sluice behind them, he slid his hands under her hips, lifting them, and she placed the tip of his cock at her entrance. They both moaned as their bodies made contact.

  It was exquisite torture. Slowly, so slowly, he pushed into her. Still coming down from her first orgasm, she was tight, resistant, and she shifted her legs wider to accommodate his huge cock.

  He eased in inch by inch, staring into her eyes as he did. She normally could read his mind, it seemed, but at that moment, there were no words. There was only pure, raw emotion in the dark pools. As if in this moment, he was baring his soul to her.

  He’d seen her hit rock bottom. She’d showed him her fear, her anger. Now, looking into his eyes, she let go of the past, releasing the bars around her heart and baring her soul to him as well.

  They locked together, bodies and hearts, and he paused, holding still, making this moment count. Another memory of her first mission he wanted her to bookmark and never forget.

  I love you. That seemed to be what her heart sang to him, even though her mind knew it was completely illogical. She barely knew this man, and yet…

  She did. He was good and decent. He'd protected her, acted as her teacher and mentor on this mission.

  Mia reached up and touched his face, letting him know this was exactly what she wanted, not only tonight, but every night.

  The tiniest of smiles curved his lips, and then she lowered her hands to his hips, pushing him the rest of the way in.

  Like the partners they were, they built a steady rhythm together, hard and fast, wild and free. “Come on,” he said in her ear. “Let go, mon coeur. I want you to come for me.”

  She was almost there… so close… so—

  “Ry—”

  His name shot out of her mouth as the climax hit, but he was one step ahead of her, clamping his hand over mouth and cutting off the rest.

  She bucked hard underneath him, biting at his hand, and half a breath later, he followed her over the edge, back arching, muscles straining. “Holy…fuck…” he said through gritted teeth as he exploded inside her. “Mon couer.”

  They both floated for a few minutes in the aftermath.

  Then he lifted her from the floor and put her back in the shower.

  * * *

  Compromised

  * * *

  The balcony was the only safe place to talk to Parker, not only because of the listening devices inside, but Mia was fast asleep in bed and Ryker would do anything not to wake her.

  “I need to extract her now,” he said softly into his comm unit. “She’s done well, better than I could’ve hoped, but she lost it on me earlier. Those girls in the dungeon are eating at her.”

  Parker's voice was steady, not a hint of emotion. “Negative. You must continue to be Gaspard and JoAn until the French have made their arrests.”

  Ryker huffed a breath, staring out at the night. “How long does it take?” Stupid question. This wasn't just about Kaiser anymore. Senator Hinch, the sheik, Josefina—they were all in this goatfuck, and the arrests were outside Shadow Force International’s jurisdiction.

  Parker confirmed his worst fears. “Minimum a few more hours. We're not only dealing with black market arms, we have human trafficking, crimes against humanity, international border violations, possible terrorism, and about a dozen more lesser crimes. Everyone from the French authorities to the FBI to Interpol has a hand in the arrests. We need everything done by the book, and if Kaiser or any of the other players gets wind of the fact they're about to be arrested, they could escape.”

  In other words, stay put and do your job. “The longer we stay here, the more dangerous it gets. Kaiser probably has multiple French police in his back pocket. Even a whisper that something is going down could jeopardize our mission.”

  “Agreed, but it's impossible to extract you without Kaiser knowing it, and that will jeopardize everything for certain.”

  He gripped the railing, grinding his teeth. There had to be a way. “Get Mia out. I'll stay. I'll figure out what to say to Kaiser, so he doesn't get suspicious. I'll tell him something happened with her company and she had to fly home immediately.”

  “Is that what Mia wants? Does she feel she is unable to complete this?”

  Mia would never leave on her own. She'd already whispered to him that she had a plan to help the women downstairs. “This is my call. Mia is…” He hated to undermine her to their boss, but he needed to keep Mia safe at all costs. “She’s unstable, and she could be in danger. You need to pull her out tonight.”

  A pause. “Your concern is commendable, but your judgment is clouded.”

  The insinuation rankled. Didn't mean she was wrong. While she couldn't have overheard their lovemaking, she had, nevertheless, figured out he had feelings for Mia. “My judgment is right on the money.”

  “You’re letting what happened with Petra influence this decision.”

  He reared back, irritation flashing through him with a vengeance. Not only that, flat-out anger. What did Parker know about Petra? “I didn't realize you had a psychology degree.”

  It was pure snark, but she didn't rise to the bait. “I'll take your concerns about Mia under advisement…”

  She was still talking, but his attention was diverted by an unfamiliar noise. He looked above him and to each side, no longer listening to her words. Was someone on one of the other balconies eavesdropping?

  All was silent. It was nearly three a.m., and although many people liked to party until sunrise, there was no one on their balconies that he could see. There was only one room with the light on several floors below.

  Again, he heard the slightest noise, so soft he almost wondered if he’d imagined it. Maybe it was coming from Parker’s end. “Are you clicking something?” he interrupted her. “Do you hear that noise?”

  “Sorry, no.”

  Instinct kicked him hard in the gut and he whirled to look behind him through the glass doors at Mia sleeping on the bed inside.

  What he saw made his blood turn to ice and the air inside his chest freeze along with it.

  The faintest light from the alarm clock on the nightstand revealed a shadowy stranger leaning over Mia, reflecting off something in the stranger’s hand.

  Holy shit. A needle.

  “911,” he said, grabbing the handle of the patio door. Get to her. “We’ve got trouble.”

  The door was locked. He shook it violently, as two more darkly clad strangers emerged from the shadows near the door. “Mia!” he yelled, pounding on the glass.

  The poke of the needle had already woken her, but her movements were slowed by the deep sleep she’d been in. She started to yell—the stranger slapped her across the face, cutting off her words.

  Whatever the drug was, it worked fast. “Gaspard!” She screamed, then fell unconscious.

  Ryker picked up the potted plant near his feet and hurled it. The door shattered, gla
ss shards flying into the room.

  He followed them.

  As the two men came at him, Ryker started swinging.

  * * *

  Know your enemy. Know yourself.

  * * *

  Mia came awake slowly, mouth dry and head pounding. Sensations hit her as she forced her eyes open, flashbacks of the assault in the stairwell slithering in through the fog in her brain.

  But this wasn't the stairwell. Her cheek stung, cold dampness seeping into her body through a T-shirt and panties. The T-shirt smelled of Ryker.

  Where was he? She was lying on her side on a hard surface and everything ached. Cold metal scraped against the skin of her wrists as she leveraged her upper body to lift her throbbing head.

  Her vision blurred as she took in her bound hands and legs, a stone floor, and sickly, yellow light seeping in from the other side of the iron bars. Try as she might to blink and clear her eyesight, it didn't work.

  Drugged. The thought skipped through her mind, a memory of waking up to a sharp prick in her arm and fear blooming in her belly. A dark shadow looming over her…

  Fear shot adrenaline into her system, her cloudy eyes darting around, body off-balance no matter how she tried to push herself fully upright.

  Stone floor, stone walls, that smell. Another wave of fear raced along her limbs. How had she ended up here? What the hell had happened?

  A hard lump closed off her throat. Wrong, this was all kinds of wrong.

  She was in Karl's dungeon.

  Alone.

  Images came rushing back. Ryker and the bathroom, the shower, their lovemaking. She'd scooped up his shirt to put on before crawling into bed with him.

  But now? Those perfect moments stolen under the guise of their mission seemed like eons ago.

  Panic threatened. Hot acid raced into her throat. She swallowed the bile and scooted backward until her spine hit the wall. There, she wrestled to stay in a seated position, vertigo teasing her balance.