by Susan Stoker, Cristin Harber, Cora Seton, Lynn Raye Harris, Kaylea Cross, Katie Reus, Tessa Layne
The ground rumbled and dirt showered from the ceiling. Victoria clenched her hands into fists. God, she hated this part. Being buried alive was bad enough, but buried alive with this man…
Nick’s head was back, his eyes on the ceiling as the dirt stopped falling. His skin glistened in the dull glow of the light. She let her gaze slide over him, cataloging the chiseled planes of his cheekbones and nose. And those lips.
Dear God, she could never forget those lips. She’d hated them and adored them all at once—and hated them even more because she’d been weak enough to want to feel them against her own.
At least she hadn’t allowed that indignity before the end.
“How did you know this was here?” he asked, not looking at her, his voice a low rumble in the dark.
“Part of the job. I’m surprised you didn’t know it. Or maybe you’re not as good as you like to think.”
His gaze snapped to hers and she found herself swallowing, which wasn’t easy considering her mouth was as dry as the sand covering the desert over their heads.
“At least I’m here for the right reasons.”
He sounded cool and judgmental, and it pissed her off even though she knew she shouldn’t let him get to her. He couldn’t know what her reasons were or how right they were to her.
“Of course you are. I’m just here for the fun. What girl wouldn’t want to be trapped in a cellar with you two jerks while a bunch of jihadists tromp the ground over her head?”
“Hey,” Dex said, “I didn’t say a damn thing. Leave me out of your pissing contest.”
“The one you let get away,” Nick growled, “will prolong this conflict and cost American lives. How does that make you feel?”
Victoria tilted her chin up as fresh heat flooded her. She knew precisely who she’d let get away. And it still made her sick inside.
“And I say the one I shot would have done the same thing. There are no easy choices out here, and you know it.”
“I work for an organization that knows what they’re talking about. Who do you work for?” He took a step toward her, though they were already close due to the tight proximity of the cellar.
She wanted to back away, but she wouldn’t show that much weakness. And she wasn’t telling him anything, either.
“Whoever it is,” he continued, “they don’t give a fuck about what’s right or just, do they? Guns for hire never do. It’s all about the money and who can pay to get what they want. You shot an opposition commander of no consequence. You let the terrorist get away. And that’s the fucking truth of it, Victoria, so save the rationalizing for some other dumb ass who might believe it.”
His words hurt, but she wasn’t going to let him know it. She reminded herself that she was here for Emily, and she was going to do whatever it took to get her sister back. Besides, Victoria’s name was already sullied in the eyes of the United States Army. What was one more transgression?
She was hot on Emily’s trail, thanks to Ian Black and his business. She started to tell Nick to fuck off, but there was a burst of gunfire overhead and the words died in her throat. The three of them cast their eyes to the ceiling and gripped their weapons.
There was a sudden thump on the trapdoor and Victoria’s heart lodged in her throat. Any second, the door would lift—and they’d be caught in this hole like rats.
CHAPTER TWO
Nick pulled his Sig and prepared to shoot. Behind him, Dex did the same. Victoria yanked an HK submachine gun from her bag and rocked back into a fighting stance. Above them, booted feet thumped and scraped, and men called to each other in Arabic.
Someone was going to realize the floor was hollow in that one spot, and when they did, all hell was going to break loose. Nick forced his heartbeat to slow, his breathing to deepen. Calm sank over him like a soft blanket. This was what he did, what he’d trained for. If those bastards came down here, he’d fight until he couldn’t fight anymore.
He glanced at Victoria, wondering how she was going to handle this. It still stunned him that she was here at all. A fucking mercenary. A gun for hire. How had that happened? Why?
She’d been incredible at the sniper school, one of the best shots in the whole damn class. They’d gone head-to-head more than once in competition, and it was often a draw as to who was better.
She’d been so fucking good, but then she’d disappeared one day. The instructors never remarked on her absence. Plenty of people washed out, but he’d have never guessed she’d be one of them. Not many women were allowed in, so the fact she’d been there at all had already made her special. Which was why he’d had a hard time believing she’d failed.
The trapdoor began to lift, a slice of daylight shining inside. Dex stowed the glow stick, and the light inside the cellar winked out. The door moved another inch—and then Nick heard the distant whine of a jet engine.
Air support.
The jet rocketed toward them, the engines screaming as it approached. The trapdoor closed with a thud, and booted feet pounded across it and faded into the distance. Who knows where the tangos were going or why, but they’d clearly decided this hole wasn’t worth exploring. Nick let out a long breath and lowered the Sig. He couldn’t see his companions, but he knew they must have done the same. Another moment and the glow stick reappeared.
No one spoke. They made eye contact and nodded at each other. And then Nick went over to join Dex against the wall. They sat on the floor and pulled water and food from their packs. It was no use trying to use the comm just yet.
Victoria was still standing and watching them, her eyes wide and innocent-looking in a way that was incongruous with the submachine gun resting against her leg. Nick motioned her over and gestured at the food.
She cast one last glance at the trapdoor over her head and then came over and sank onto the dirt floor.
“That was close,” she said softly.
“Yeah.” Nick handed her an energy bar.
Her fingers touched his when she took it, and his skin tingled with the contact. Her eyelids dropped to shutter her gaze from his view.
She opened the bar and took a bite, lifting her gaze to his once more. “Thanks.”
He shrugged. “If you hadn’t showed us this cellar, we’d have had a shoot-out up there, I think.”
In the distance, they could hear explosions and gunfire. Victoria turned her head as if she could see the fighter jets above them.
“Now that’s a nice touch,” she said.
Nick calmly took a bite of his own energy bar. “Yeah, guess you don’t have air support on tap with your outfit.”
“No, we definitely don’t.”
“What happened to you?” he blurted, unable to hold it in any longer. “You had a promising career, and you threw it all away to do what? Become a mercenary? What the fuck, Victoria?”
Her lips thinned and her rain-gray eyes flashed. She still had the head covering on, but he knew that her hair beneath the cloth was a deep, rich red. Or so he hoped anyway. What if she’d changed it?
“Maybe I didn’t have a choice, Preacher Boy. Did you ever think of that?”
He tried to let the jibe roll off him, though surprisingly it irritated him when she said it. Yeah, his dad was a preacher, and yeah, he’d had a pretty strict upbringing because of it. Nick had been accustomed to being teased growing up because of his father’s holier-than-thou lifestyle. But he’d stopped defending himself on that score since the only people who jabbed him about it were simply trying to get under his skin.
It didn’t usually work. Until now.
Still, he focused on what she’d said—that maybe she didn’t have a choice—and ignored the rest. “You failed the course.”
Her eyes widened. Color blazed in her cheeks. “I did not fail.” She waved a hand. “I’m not discussing this with you. As soon as it’s clear out there, we can go our separate ways and you can believe whatever you want to believe.”
“Go our separate ways? No fucking way. You’re coming with us.”<
br />
Dex merely grunted. Nick was perfectly aware that the other man had been watching them with the kind of fascination most people reserved for reality shows.
Victoria blinked. “Why would I do that? I have my own people, you know.”
“I don’t think so. Where’s your spotter? Where’s your backup?”
“Where’s yours? All I see is two of you.”
“Our team is out there. About two miles away, and if they have to come blast us out of here, they will.”
She lowered her gaze. “My spotter got shot a few days back. I’m on my own until I return to HQ.”
Somehow, he didn’t let his jaw fall open. “You took that shot without a spotter?”
She shrugged. “Obviously.”
Of course it wasn’t impossible to do—but it was more helpful with a spotter than without. He didn’t know five people who could have made that shot, but she’d done it—and she’d done it alone.
He was more intrigued than he cared to admit. She’d disappeared a little over three years ago, and now she was here in the middle of a war zone, fucking up his mission.
“Unless you’ve got a team out there, you’re coming with us.”
“I don’t think so,” she snapped. “I did my job and I’m done. Soon as it’s safe to leave, I’m going my own way.”
He should let her go. What did he care? But then she’d just fucked up his mission, and he wasn’t inclined to be nice about it.
“There’re a whole lot of tangos out there, and we’ve got help. Do you?”
The flash of her eyes gave him the answer. That and the fact she’d come here alone and made this shot without a teammate to take shifts or watch the scope while she rested. God knew this job was dangerous at the best of times, but what she was doing was practically suicidal.
“I’m just a poor Qu’rimi woman, trudging between villages. No one’s going to bother me.”
“But if they do, you’ve already pointed out that it’s obvious you aren’t Qu’rimi. What then?”
She ripped a piece of the energy bar off. “I’ve been working this way for two years, Preacher Boy. Where were you then, huh? I made it this far without your help.”
“Yeah, well, now you got it. So stop bitching and let’s work together to get out of here.”
Of course he had an ulterior motive, but she didn’t need to know it. He wanted her in HOT’s control because then they could question her more closely, find out who she was working for. Mendez wasn’t going to be happy about this mission, and Nick would really like to have the person responsible when the colonel blew his top.
Victoria chewed. He thought she might be on the verge of agreeing, but then another explosion rattled the ground and dirt showered down from the ceiling. Instinctively, Nick lunged for her and rolled her beneath him while Dex dived flat as well.
The ground shook again, and debris fell over them. Beneath him, Victoria was small and solid and warm. She’d tucked her head into his shoulder, and her breath tickled his neck. His heart thumped with adrenaline, but then there was another sensation rolling through him.
The electric hum of attraction buzzed in his veins. He’d always felt that hum when he’d been near Victoria, though he’d never acted on it. She’d always had her hackles up around him, and he’d never quite known why. They’d had some intense competitions on the range, but off it, he’d been perfectly willing to let the hostility subside.
She hadn’t.
Her hands were wedged between her body and his, her palms flat on his chest. Her fingers curled—once, briefly—and then straightened again. Her breathing was shallow and quick, and she made a whimpering noise—again once and briefly. The shaking stopped a few moments later, and Nick lifted himself slightly.
He could only see the top of her head. The head covering had gone askew, and red hair peeked out. He didn’t know why it made him glad to see she hadn’t changed the color, but it did.
“You okay?”
She nodded. And then she lifted her head and those eyes slammed into his. His heart sort of stuttered.
“I’m fine. A little bruised, maybe. But fine.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth. Such a pretty, pink mouth. If he lowered his head just a little bit, he could kiss her. What would she taste like if he did? What would she do?
Her hands curled into fists. And then she pushed. “You can get off me now.”
He was strangely disappointed by that statement, but he rolled away and pushed himself upright again. Victoria sat up and tried to right her head covering. The black burka was shapeless and no doubt hot, but he understood why she wore it. She probably fooled a lot of people dressed as she was.
Hell, she’d fooled him—and that pissed him off. He now realized that the woman he’d seen in the alley with the basket had been Victoria. He’d confirmed she was a woman, but he’d never thought she was a military operative. It wasn’t within the Qu’rimi psyche to allow women in their military, and he damn sure hadn’t expected a mercenary.
Lesson learned.
His lips pressed together. It wasn’t a mistake he would make again. Another mistake he wouldn’t make was letting her go when they left this cellar. Like it or not, she was going with them.
* * *
Victoria dragged in a shaky breath as she smoothed the fabric over her body. She didn’t want to look at Nick. She could feel his presence like a promise—or a threat—and she didn’t like how he affected her. When he’d rolled her beneath him, it hadn’t exactly been sexy. For one thing, there’d been the prospect of the ceiling crashing down and burying them alive. For another, he’d launched himself at her with the intent to protect her, so he hadn’t exactly taken her down to the floor gently.
And yet her body insisted on shuddering beneath his, and not because she’d been scared. Once the shock of the situation passed, she’d become aware of all his hard angles pressing into her. He was big and strong, and her body was so deprived of contact it had decided to wake up and say howdy. She could still feel the thrum of excitement bubbling in her veins—and it pissed her off.
Why him? Why now? She didn’t have time for this shit.
She gave the head covering one last tug and raised her gaze to Nick’s. Her heart flipped and she ground her teeth together.
“We’ll move out in an hour,” he said. “As long as it stays quiet.”
She could only nod, though it annoyed her to appear to be agreeing with him. Because there was no way she was going with these men. It might be nice to have someone at her back, but it was a risk she couldn’t take. If the Army got hold of her, who knew when or if they’d let her go again? She hadn’t exactly endeared herself to the United States government over the past few years.
But when you were desperate, you did desperate things.
She was only glad her grandfather wasn’t alive any longer to see what she’d become. He would’ve died of shame to know that both his granddaughters were considered security risks at best and traitors at worst. Gramps, who’d fought in Korea and earned a Purple Heart—and then gone on to Vietnam in the early days and earned another one.
He’d been so proud of her ability with a rifle—but he’d never envisioned this, she was quite certain.
There were so many things he hadn’t envisioned. His death from cancer. Her and Emily being sent into foster care. Emily’s descent into drugs and drinking and her fascination with a man who led her down the wrong path.
Victoria rubbed her hands over her arms as if to warm herself. God, she’d been searching for so long, but she was finally getting closer. Ian had told her just a few days ago that a white woman had been seen in one of the terrorist camps. That didn’t mean it was Emily, but how many white women could there be in the Freedom Force training camps?
Victoria bit the inside of her lip and turned away from the two men. She was so furious with Emily, even now, and so scared at the same time. Ian had promised he’d help find her sister, but it’d been nearly two years since she’d st
arted working for him, and she had yet to get a glimpse of her wayward younger sibling.
There’d been calls, but those had ceased six months ago. Emily’s phone rang, but no one answered. It had been nothing but hints and possible sightings for months. This mission to shoot the opposition commander had been the closest she’d ever come to the man who’d poisoned Emily’s mind against her family and her country.
Zaran bin Yusuf. She’d stared at him through her scope today, her blood boiling with helpless fury—and then she’d shot the man who’d come to betray him when what she’d really wanted to do was kill Zaran herself.
But if he was dead, what would happen to Emily? It wasn’t a chance Victoria was willing to take. Besides, the money had been on shooting the other guy, and if she’d fucked it up, Ian wouldn’t have been very understanding about losing the bounty.
No one spoke much in the next hour. Victoria went and huddled against the wall, sipping water from her pack and watching the two men as they checked their gear and made plans. Dex was tall and muscled, like Nick, but he didn’t make her heart thump the way Nick did.
She thought back to sniper school and her first glimpse of him. He’d been cool and arrogant, so certain of his superiority. He’d been there when she’d arrived, and he’d been the one tasked with showing her to her room. He’d walked in front of her, silent and hulking, and she’d followed along with her heart in her throat and her brain chattering in fear that she was going to fail.
Not many women were admitted, but she’d been determined to be one of the few who made it through. And then Nick had reached her door. He’d turned and looked down at her with that superior glare that made her feel so small inside. He hadn’t said anything rude or inappropriate, but she’d decided then and there that she was going to beat him before it was all over. She was going to beat them all. And she would have if Emily hadn’t run away with a man bent on war against the United States.
“Time to go, Victoria,” Nick said, and she shook herself from her memories to find him standing over her and holding out a hand.
