by Desiree Holt
And no one seemed to want to give her any information. Three times a day, when one of the ‘guards’ wheeled in her food, she badgered them with questions, but they might as well have been mute for all the info she got from them. She asked to please meet with Greg Kingsley, and each time was told he was busy doing damage control. What about the damage to me?
With each passing day, she became more nervous. More desperate. More convinced she was being set up to take the blame for everything.
Her life, like the movement of the planets, had reached critical density. What had she read when studying the mathematics of space? If the expansion of your life has suddenly contracted and movement has halted or turned, you have reached your critical density. Yeah, that was her all right. Stuck in time with no answers and no way forward.
She turned from the window and paced the room, hands shoved into the pockets of her jeans. How in the everlovin’ hell did this even happen?
She had been so excited to get the job interview with Lowden Tactical and it had gone well. She knew she had an unusually high aptitude for spatial awareness and action that made her an expert in the field of drones. Eric Lowden had seemed impressed with her and soon, from the air-conditioned comfort of her control room, she’d been able to kick butt all over the world.
When Lowden had assigned her to one of their GO-Teams, she’d hardly been able to contain her excitement and pride. These were the highly trained covert teams that took drones into enemy territory to surveil or deliver payloads in places where the government politically could not. Positions on the teams were considered highly restricted. She’d made it through the rigorous training and managed to earn the respect of the others. She was one of only two women assigned to the teams and she wore the selection like a badge of honor. She would never do anything to bring shame on it. Ever.
Someone had done this and manipulated things to place the blame on her. Someone who was going to make a lot of money for getting the payload dumped on a different target. She was discovering in a most painful way there was a big difference between having brains and being smart.
One thing she did figure out was how precarious her situation really was. After all the hours she’d spent taking everything apart bit by bit, starting with when she’d been hired by Lowden, she’d come to some frightening conclusions. They’d wanted her brain and her skills, which were the best in the company. They had planned this well in advance. And they could not afford to let her talk to anyone. She had no idea why they hadn’t just gotten rid of her to begin with, but she figured they had some use for her. After that, she was now convinced not even her body would be found.
The story of Hegman’s death was front and center on the news every day. She’d watched for a while on television, but she reached a point where she couldn’t stand it anymore. Although her name had not been mentioned specifically, reporters continued to refer to “a member of the Lowden GO-Team responsible for the drone.”
She had to get out of here and try to figure things out, but how? She was never allowed out of the suite and both doors were guarded twenty-four-seven. All her food came from room service, the trays minutely examined before she was allowed to receive them, and even then, one of her keepers wheeled in the table. The waiters weren’t allowed to enter. When housekeeping came to clean the rooms, one of the men dogged her every footstep. She was surprised they didn’t follow her into the bathroom, for god’s sake.
She had her laptop, but she wasn’t allowed an internet connection. No cell phone, and the desk had been told not to accept any phone calls from this room. She was completely shut off from the outside world. And she had become so immersed in her job that the only people in her life were those on her GO-Team and others at Lowden. How sad is that? And frightening. No one would be banging on doors asking where she was and what was going on.
She stopped pacing for a moment to look out of the window again. It was darker now, the outside lights brighter, more people moving in the area filled with hotels and restaurants and shops. She might try to climb out of a window, except the windows were sealed and she was on the fifteenth floor. But there had to be a way out of here. No one was going to try to prove her innocence except her. Can I just catch a break here, please?
A knock sounded on the door, breaking into her train of thought, not that it was much of a train.
“It’s Santos. Your dinner is here.”
She opened the door, something that was just a formality. She was told—ordered—not to put the chain on the door in case she had a problem and they needed immediate access. It was for her safety.
Right. She’d almost snorted when they told her that. It wasn’t her safety they were worried about. They just wanted to make sure she couldn’t disappear on them.
She opened the door and found Paul Santos standing there with the room service table bearing her meal.
“If you wouldn’t mind stepping back from the door,” he told her in the even, measured voice she’d gotten used to, “I’ll just wheel this into the room.”
Step back. In other words, don’t try to make a run for it. Everything they did made her feel more and more like a criminal and gave the situation an increasingly hopeless slant. She had to figure this out. She couldn’t just wait here in this hotel while incorrect evidence was gathered about her to frame her and the person who was really behind this got away with it.
Chapter Two
But for the moment, she stepped away while Santos wheeled the table in.
“Enjoy your meal, Miss Modell.”
Santos backed out of the room and closed the door. Hannah had to restrain herself from throwing the safety lock. The lack of it left her feeling exposed and vulnerable, and she hated it.
As she’d done every night for the past two weeks that she’d been locked away here, she lifted the lids on the dishes. Food had begun to lose its appeal to her, but she needed to keep up her strength. She never knew when an opportunity would present itself. Tonight it was sliced steak and mashed potatoes with gravy—simple food, but nourishing.
When she’d eaten as much as she could force down, she rose from the little wheeled table and pushed it toward the door. And as she did so, an idea came to her as to how she could get out of here and to the bottom of this.
She still had her purse, so she grabbed her money, a nice secret stash she always kept with her. She added identification and anything else she could fit into the pockets of her jeans. No cell phone. They could track her. And certainly no laptop for the same reason, and also because she didn’t want to have to carry it. Next, she dug out the hoodie she’d taken when she’d packed, pulled it on and filled those pockets, too.
Finally she found what she needed on a little table in the living room of the suite. She had been told to knock before she opened the door, to give whoever was outside warning, but for this to work she needed the element of surprise. She yanked the door open, startling Santos. He jerked in surprise and stepped into the suite. Hannah slammed the door shut and immediately swung the solid statue she’d picked up and smashed it into the side of his head.
All that training for the GO-Teams paid off and he went down like a dead fish.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
She slipped out into the hallway, thankful that after two weeks, they’d reduced the number of guards from two to one. Then she took off, racing down toward the door to the stairs. No elevator. If he woke up right away, he could have it stopped. She hurtled down fourteen fights until she reached the main floor. She had no idea where the door she came to led, so she opened it slowly, praying Santos wasn’t conscious again and waiting for her.
She eased the door open, realized she was at the side of the lobby and spotted a door to the outside at the end of a short corridor. Rushing but still doing her best not to call attention to herself, she blended into the crowd moving along the sidewalk and moved away from the hotel. Once, when she looked back, she saw her guard standing outside with a cell phone to his ear, looking both ways.
Okay, she needed to get off the street.
A little group of people hurried out of the business she was standing next to, swallowing her up, and she moved toward the door they’d just come through. She pushed inside without even checking what kind of business it was and discovered she was in a Texas-themed bar. It was dark, or as the ads would say, intimately lit, so she had to blink twice before she could focus and take in the scene. There were high-backed booths along the walls, all of them occupied, plus a few high-tops, also full, and a polished bar where every stool but one was taken.
What to do, what to do?
If she went out, her guard dog might be on the sidewalk looking for her. Worse yet, he might be trying every business near the hotel. For sure, he’d already called for reinforcements.
She maneuvered past the people standing close to the bar until she got to the one empty stool. Fortunately, it was at the far end. She wriggled into it and pulled back her hood, knowing if she kept it up, she’d call attention to herself. Then she undid the holder that kept her hair in its usual high, tight ponytail and finger-combed it so it was loose. Not her usual style, so hopefully the guard dogs might not be looking for it.
The bartender slapped a napkin down in front of her, startling her.
“What’s your pleasure?”
Oh. Right. She’d taken the only empty seat, so she’d better order something.
“Beer. Whatever’s on draft.”
She wasn’t a huge beer drinker, but it was the first thing she could think of. When he set the frosty mug down in front of her, she took a sip, thankful that her hands were not shaking. She tried her best not to keep checking the entrance, but her glance kept sliding in that direction.
“Whoever you’re looking for is sure to show up if you keep staring at the door.”
The deep, rusty voice stabbed her like a spear, except the sensation was a pleasant one, not painful. She wanted to fall into that voice and wrap it around her like a blanket, only right then she couldn’t afford it. Nor could she afford even a second to inhale the light pine scent that drifted across her nose and sent out a call to her nearly dead hormones.
What in the everlovin’ hell? Her entire life was in crisis, killers were tracking her and the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on popped into it? Right now? Doing her best to ignore him, she took another sip of her beer, which at the moment tasted like spoiled vinegar, and tried to pretend the person next to her was totally unappealing. Except it wasn’t quite working.
“It does help if you try to blend in with the crowd.”
He was talking to her again, only this time there was a hint of humor in his tone.
Hannah slid a sideways glance at him, taking a better look, and nearly fell off her stool. Ignore him? It might take all her discipline. He was wearing a Henley that molded to the muscles of his arms and back. His dark blond hair was just a little longer than a military cut, leading her to think he was either in some branch of the service or had been until recently. The scruff on his cheeks and strong-looking jaw was at least three shades darker. It was his eyes, however, that captured her, even in the soft lighting of the bar. Deep blue, with flecks of gold, that looked out from beneath thick lashes.
Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look.
A tiny shiver raced through her body, and it wasn’t fear. Her nipples tightened and the long-suppressed pulse between her thighs chose that moment to spring to life. And speaking of life, she’d better figure out what to do with hers and the situation she was in. She tried to drag her gaze away from his.
It had been such a long time since she’d had a reaction like this to a man. Any man. Of necessity, she’d mentally turned all the men she worked with into androids with no sex appeal. Getting involved at work would have compromised her self-respect and her job. And since her social life was less than that of an ant, she hadn’t had a relationship in forever. Scratch that. Forget relationship—she hadn’t had a date in two years. She just couldn’t handle the complexities of it along with the demands of her job.
Maybe that was why the guy sitting next to her made her hormones take off like a jet engine. She did her best to ignore him, wondering what terrible twist of fate had brought them together at the worst possible time.
“It’s none of my business,” he went on in that low, sensual tone, “but you look like someone packing a trunk full of trouble.”
“Oh, and I suppose you can help me with that.”
Why was she even talking to him? The last thing she needed was to hook up with a sex god—her life and her future were on the line and he was probably just looking for a quick roll in the hay. She needed a savior, if one even existed. And at the moment, she needed to figure out how to get the hell away from here and where to go. She had a limited amount of cash, couldn’t use credit cards and didn’t even have a cell phone. Worst of all was the way she’d isolated herself from everyone she used to hang out with. Calling someone out of the blue might not be the best move.
So now what?
She looked away from the sizzling stranger next to her and took another sip of beer, then slid a glance toward the door again. The agents would start checking every business up and down the street, especially when they discovered she hadn’t taken a cab. She’d started to drag her gaze away from the entrance when the doors swung open and two men in suits strode in. Neither of them was her guard dog, but they immediately began to scan the room. Hannah wondered if it would look too obvious if she tried to hide below the bar.
The bartender, who had been watching them along with other customers and was now drying a glass, slid a glance to the door and back to them. “Don’t look now, guys, but I think one of you has unwanted company. You guys good at playacting?” he asked.
While she was trying to make herself as invisible as possible, a strong male arm came around her and pulled her against that hard, masculine body. A hand cupped her face and turned it toward him.
“Just follow my lead.” His voice was low, barely above a whisper.
Her entire body tensed. What the hell?
“Pay attention to what the bartender said. If you don’t want those guys who came in to focus on you, put on a good act. I’m pretty sure you can do it.”
She had two choices. Play along with this or push him away and let the suits grab her. Not much choice there. But his lethally quiet air of power and containment gave her unexpected assurance, so she decided to follow his lead. She leaned into him, turning her body so she could bury her face against his chest. But he, apparently, had other ideas. Cupping her cheek, he tilted her face just enough to take her mouth in a hot, steaming kiss, one that almost melted her into the bar stool. She was so shocked she couldn’t even move, which was probably a good idea.
The kiss seemed to go on forever. She vaguely heard the man on the other side of her chuckle and say to the bartender, “I want whatever he’s drinking.”
Then, just as she was sure she’d used up all her breath and the traitorous parts of her body were starting to send unwanted messages to her brain, he lightened the pressure of the kiss and eased her back to her position on the bar stool.
“They just left,” he told her in a low voice, “but they didn’t look like they were giving up.”
“Who just left?” She did her best to pretend she had no idea what he was talking about.
“You know who. Just follow my lead. When we get outside, you can kick me in the balls and run if you want, but I get the feeling you’re in real trouble. And that’s my specialty.”
For all she knew, he was a killer and a rapist, but he’d just saved her from disaster when he didn’t have to, and she did need to get out of here. She didn’t argue when he slapped money on the bar for both their bills and slid off his stool. Standing, he was a good head taller than she was. His long legs were encased in jeans that outlined muscular thighs and a really nice ass.
Nice ass? Was she crazy? People were trying to dump a load of trouble on her and she was admiring some guy’s ass?
She really was going crazy.
He eased her gently toward the end of the bar, one arm keeping her body glued to his. He guided her out through the back door and into the rear parking lot, where a tricked-out pickup sat.
“I can take you wherever you want to go,” he told her, unlocking the doors.
Where would that be, exactly? Home was out of the question, and she’d left herself with no alternatives. God. What could she tell him? Something visceral made her trust him, which was unusual considering her situation and the fact that she hardly trusted anyone. Maybe it was because her life had turned upside down?
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “I, uh, have no idea where to go. And yes, I’m in trouble.”
He looked over at her and smiled, and her insides tried to do a jig. Crap, Hannah. This is no time for fun and games.
“Then you’ve found just the person to help you. Let’s get out of here.”
He pulled out onto the main drag, blending into the traffic.
“Where are we going?” she wanted to know.
“For a plane ride.” He took out his cell phone and pressed a number. “Saint? Fire up the plane. We have a new passenger.”
All Hannah could think was, Oh, god, what have I gotten myself into?
Chapter Three
Matt ‘Viper’ Roman slid a quick glance at the woman sitting next to him. He couldn’t figure out what it was that had made him step into what was obviously a problem for her. It wasn’t hard to tell she was in trouble. He could smell the fear radiating from her, and it wasn’t caused by him. She was so tense, he was afraid that if she bent over, she might snap in half. Then there was his assessment of what had happened back at the bar. Her weak attempt to disguise her appearance, her furtive looks at the door and the fear that had been a living thing when the two men in suits had walked in.
