by Lisa Hughey
“Nice?” She nipped at his shoulder blade, hard enough to sting.
Yeah, not a very exciting commentary. He’d done it on purpose to try to get her out of here.
He cleared his throat.
The good news was he’d forgotten all about his leg. The bad, he was never going to recover from the boner currently prodding the mattress as if it could burrow inside.
“It’s been a long day,” he tried again, almost desperately.
She nodded her agreement but ignored the implicit message and pressed openmouthed kisses up the center of his back, then veered toward his right shoulder. She licked his neck as her hands smoothed over his triceps and down his forearms.
And finally John surrendered. He closed his eyes on an exhale and let her tend to his body. Because that’s what she was doing. Tending to him. Soothing, even as she aroused.
With an easy flop, she lay on top of him. Her generous breasts flattened into his deltoids, her belly rested on the curve of his ass, and she nuzzled her head into the valley between his shoulder blades.
The puff of her breath along his skin peppered goosebumps over his entire body.
He wanted. Ached. Longed to flip over and devour her. She continued to smooth her palms over his skin. Her lashes fluttered against his back.
“Are you…falling asleep?” He couldn’t say why but that amused him. And pleased him.
That she was comfortable enough to let herself go, to trust him enough to sleep in his presence, on top of him, caused a warmth to pool in his belly and spread out in waves.
Her breathing deepened, and her body melted over his.
The more boneless she became, the harder it was for him to draw breath. His chest was tight with emotions he didn’t know how to process. There was something far more intimate about falling asleep together rather than the screaming orgasms they’d had in the living room. Her absolute trust was a gift.
Instead of reaching around and pushing her off his body and forcing her to back to her own room, John settled into the mattress and let out a puff of breath. The world tilted on its access, throwing him more off balance than when he was using his crutches. Because right now he had no desire to send her away.
He liked the way she felt on top of him, surrounding him. A curious sense of anticipation and hope flooded him. The emotion filled his chest, and he decided to savor the embrace rather than push her away. She’d wake up in a second and everything would be back to normal.
She’d be her bitchy self.
He’d be his grumpy, untouchable self.
Chapter 12
Rissa stepped from the shower and wrapped a towel around her wet hair.
She’d woken up in bed with John. In. Bed.
She didn’t remember falling asleep. She’d been stroking his gorgeous back and arms, trying to soothe him.
She wasn’t a soothing person. And yet, in that moment, she’d wanted to take care of him. She’d known that he was self-conscious about her seeing his stump. But she didn’t care about that. In that moment, she’d felt a closeness, a kinship with him that defied reason.
They barely knew each other. And yet, his soul called to hers.
She understood him. She liked him. She admired him.
And the sex.
She sighed. The sex was phenomenal.
Someone knocked at the door to the suite. Rissa headed for the door. Through the open doorway to John’s room, he lay tangled in the bedspread, half on his stomach and his bare arms curled around a pillow like a lover.
Her heart thudded, hard, at the display of all that power. Even in sleep he dominated the space with his commanding masculine presence. She’d had the full force of his attention focused on her last night. Heat seared through her veins. Too bad most of the time they butted heads.
The knock came again.
Probably Jack bringing back Maria. Dammit. It had been so late last night. And she and John had argued. She should have let Jack know right away that she wanted to go with John to search for the girls rather than babysit Maria.
She glanced through the peephole but all she could see was the back of a dark head of hair. With one last longing glance back at John, Rissa yanked open the door.
Shit. It wasn’t Jack.
The barrel of a cannon was aimed at her heart. She couldn’t hear, could only react to the sight of that weapon. Her damn nemesis. Guaranteed to make her tremble, and not in the good way. Her heart thumped loudly, as if her veins had shriveled in fear and blood banged against the walls in a primal drumbeat. Frantic to push through and send nourishment to her heart.
She could only pray that John stayed very still. Maybe the dark-haired giant holding her hostage wouldn’t notice him.
“Ms. Evans.”
There’s no sense in denying I’m me. Based on the surety with which he’s holding the weapon, if I said no, I’m not sure he won’t shoot.
Rissa didn’t take her gaze from his gun as he pushed his way inside. He lumbered slowly, his size clearly an impediment. And as she backed into the room, she thought between John and her, they might be able to take him.
Except behind him there was an equally behemoth man.
With an equally behemoth gun.
Fuck. It was happening again.
She could hear John rustling. Even though the man had spoken in a low voice, it had clearly registered with John.
Big Guy number one jerked his head toward the bedroom.
Big Guy number two halted in John’s bedroom doorway. “Don’t move.”
Out of her peripheral vision she could see John. He had his limb in his hand. “Shit, this one’s a cripple,” the asshole said.
“He’s also a former Marine, you dickhead,” Big Guy number one snarled. “Don’t let him put the leg on.”
Shit.
“Get up slowly.” Big Guy number two tossed John’s basketball shorts at him. “And get dressed.”
“Clearly you have us at a disadvantage,” she said pleasantly. They knew their names and the fact that John used to be a Marine. “Who are you?”
The only potential ace in their hand was the fact that Jack could be on his way. Except he wouldn’t be expecting an ambush.
“Doesn’t matter who we are,” Big Guy number one growled. “You’re coming with us.”
With efficient movements they rounded up John and Rissa. One aimed their weapon at them while the other zip-tied Rissa’s wrists behind her back. They let John have his hands free to use his crutches.
They were clearly professionals because both men stayed out of reach. Big Guy number two stayed out of crutch reach of John. And Big Guy number one stayed out of kick reach of Rissa. The response time to pull the trigger would protect the big guys if John and Rissa tried to rush either one of them.
All she could do was thank the Universe that Maria had spent the night at the Palazzo. What if she’d been here? She was slowly regaining her confidence but getting kidnapped again could have totally set her back.
Small favors.
Rissa and John could really use a big favor right now.
Within two minutes, they were out the door. The two men followed, weapons discreetly tucked against their sides. There was no room for escape.
John swung his crutches to the same rhythm as her walk, his mouth set in a grim line. She’d bet he was thinking the same thing she was. They were screwed.
Fuck. John pretty much couldn’t come up with anything more than that one word.
The fucking goons had the tactical advantage right now. Because without his leg his mobility was extremely limited.
And Rissa was flat-out terrified of the gun.
This situation was her worst nightmare come back to haunt her.
“You okay?” he murmured.
She swallowed. “Yeah.”
“Shut up,” Goon One snarled.
John tightened his fingers on the handles of his crutches. He’d managed to send a quick SOS text to Jack while he was still in bed. But since John and
Rissa’s phones were back in the hotel room, that basically just let Jack know they hadn’t disappeared of their own free will. He needed to get his brain in gear and figure out how the hell they were going to get out of this.
But forty minutes later, he was still grasping for a solution.
They had loaded John and Rissa into a shiny black three-row Cadillac Escalade. They were in the far back. The driver, Goon Two, stayed well within the speed limit while Goon One, definitely the smarter one, kept his weapon trained on them during the ride out into the desert.
Pretty much everything about this situation sucked.
The goons hadn’t disguised their faces. They hadn’t covered John and Rissa’s eyes for the ride. Which meant they didn’t care if John and Rissa could identify them and exactly where they went. Which presumably meant they didn’t intend for them to get out of this alive.
Fuck if he’d survive an IED during a wartime situation only to buy it in a Las Vegas desert.
There was fucking nothing out in the desert. Hills and scrub and rocks, until the SUV pulled to a stop in front of what appeared to be an abandoned mine shaft. Signs warning of danger were posted all around, but the area was empty except for one other car. A beat-up old Honda Civic.
The two goons gestured for them to get out of the car but stayed far enough back that there was no way to rush them without getting shot. “Wait for a distraction,” John murmured.
Although what that was going to be, John had no fucking clue.
They led them toward a boarded-up entrance to the mine. Dust kicked up as John dragged his crutches through the sand leaving a trail.
When they got close enough, John could see that the boards had been tampered with.
Rissa was shaking with anxiety. He wasn’t sure how much longer she’d last.
Goon Two forced them into the mine shaft. And there was Ortega. John recognized the man from the pictures Jack had shared. Ortega was dressed in a lightweight tan suit and tie with a dapper straw fedora resting on a cap of black curls. His nearly black eyes assessed them shrewdly.
“Well, Mr. Pulaski. Ms. Evans. Nice to make your acquaintance.” He smiled, a blatant show of teeth and rage.
John nodded.
Rissa didn’t say a word. She was too busy checking out the two lumps in the corner. Her eyes had taken on a shiny glossiness and her body transformed before his eyes. The shaking, the fear had melted away as soon as she’d seen those lumps.
Fascinating. She hadn’t been upset about her own safety. But if John were correct, they had just found Sophia and Graciela. And Rissa had found her courage.
“And you are?” Rissa asked coolly.
“Not important.” But he said it with such hubris that John wanted to punch the guy.
“On the contrary, Señor Ortega.” John tried to rattle him. “You’re the man we’ve been looking for.”
Ortega squinted. That didn’t make him happy. John goaded him some more. “You’re into some naughty things.”
“Suficiente.” Ortega shut him up with a slash of his hand. “Tell me how you knew to look for me. Tell me how you knew to look for these women.”
He gave a chin lift toward the lumps.
John zipped through options. He could really use Rissa’s FBI experience right now. Ortega knew John was a Marine but there was absolutely nothing to tie him to Jack anywhere in any system. Not yet. For which John could be thankful. But since Ortega knew Rissa’s real name, he figured it wouldn’t be long before Ortega tied Rissa to Bliss and then Maria. Then the logical leap to Fernandez.
They both stayed silent. No way would he give up Maria.
And that’s when John figured out that Rissa was using her FBI experience. She was trying to get Ortega to give up information.
“Why did an unemployed former Marine and an employee of Elite Image Management join together to find these girls?”
John kept his face impassive. But inside he was What the Fuck-ing all over the place.
So Adams-Larsen gave their actual employees covers? With a small sigh of relief, he figured out that Ortega wasn’t going to be able to tie either of them to the Stone family. Which meant that even if they didn’t make it out alive, this pendejo was going down.
Rissa had given him a tiny head nod toward her wrists. He hoped she was telling him that she could break the zip cuffs. It was possible if you knew what you were doing.
That was his woman.
His. Woman. Damn, but he liked that.
Goon One had stepped outside, presumably to guard the entrance. So they were down to Goon Two and Ortega in the mine shaft. If they could disarm Goon Two before Goon One made it inside, they might have a chance. Two against three weren’t great odds. But fuck it, Rissa kept staring at those lumps, and he knew she’d handle it. Handle this.
“What made you connect me to these girls?” Ortega was starting to get rattled at their continued silence. He had moved closer to the women, who cowered against the filthy, crumbling wall of the abandoned mine. In the dim light, John couldn’t see their faces. But based on Ortega’s question, he hoped they were Sophia and Graciela.
John wondered how Ortega knew they’d been trying to find Sophia and Graciela.
Their continued insubordination was starting to have an impact. A small dollop of spittle lingered in the corner of Ortega’s mouth. Although it was a legitimate question. The only people who had questioned Anna about the girls were the LVPD.
So how did he know that John and Rissa were specifically looking for Sophia and Graciela? They couldn’t ask.
“Why do you think we’re looking for them?” Rissa finally spoke.
“Answer my question.”
“You stole them from their families.” Rissa accused.
“I gave them a life free from the dirty fields, laboring in the hot sun for less than minimum wage, forced to shit in the outhouses and sleep in hovels.”
“How’d you do it?” Rissa taunted. “Get them hooked on drugs?”
“Of course not. I’ve seen how that garbage ravages the body. My girls are clean.”
“Something to be super proud of,” Rissa sneered.
“Instead of filth and squalor, they live in luxury. They wear designer clothing. These shoes,” Ortega wrenched the leg of one of the women to show them the red sole of the shiny patent leather pump, “cost six hundred dollars on sale. That dress is a designer original. Last season, but still.”
John used the moment to swing closer to the two terrified women, pretending to try to see their shoes and clothes. Ortega didn’t seem to notice because he was hyper focused on Rissa and justifying his actions.
“So pretty clothes make up for being stolen from their families?”
Ortega lifted the girl’s trembling hand to smell her skin. “She bathes in the fragrance of Chanel No. 5. No cheap homemade concoction that dries the skin and husks the body.”
“They’re slaves,” Rissa spat. “How do you live with yourself?”
“My mama would have killed to live like this.”
“You’re a fucking monster.”
“I’m not a monster.” And John could see that Ortega truly believed that. “I’m their savior.”
“So they could leave any time they want?”
He cracked a laugh.
“I gave them this life. And I can take it away.” A mean look entered his deep brown gaze. “But they don’t want to leave.”
“They can’t leave.” Rissa taunted him again. “You’re nothing but a thief and a pimp.”
With every taunt she’d moved farther away from the girls and toward Goon Two at the doorway.
But her accusation sent Ortega into a rage and he stalked toward Rissa, who was now only a few feet away from the entrance.
Goon Two was trying to keep track of Rissa and John but his gaze naturally kept returning to Riss. Divide and conquer, baby.
God, John wanted to jump into the fray. His entire body itched with the need to take these fuckers down. He wanted to
be the one to save the day and take out their captors but his mobility was seriously compromised by the crutches. His goal was to get the girls out of the line of fire. And trust Rissa to take care of the others.
He was just waiting for the right distraction.
Rissa knew she had to get Ortega just a little further away from the girls. “You’re a common criminal.”
“Silencio!” Ortega roared and backhanded Rissa.
Luckily Rissa had seen the hit coming.
She dodged the worst of the blow and dropped down perfectly, slamming her arms against the pebbled stone floor. The flex cuffs snapped.
Her sudden movement and Ortega’s yell startled the bats clinging to the ceiling. With a loud squeal they descended.
The bats created the perfect diversion. Ortega had covered his head with his arms and was ducking down. Not paying any attention to Rissa or John. The women huddled against the cave wall were screaming.
For a moment, Rissa panicked. Her blood pounded a frantic rhythm pulsing at her brain. What if she failed?
What if she froze?
She knew John was waiting for her signal. She nodded and he swung his crutch at Ortega, just as Rissa swung her legs at the guy guarding the cave entrance in a classic takedown maneuver.
Thank you, Kita. The next time she saw her fellow Adams-Larsen coworker, she was going to give her a great big hug for insisting that even the receptionist needed to know some moves.
Ortega was out cold on the dirt floor.
Big Guy number two went down at the same time Ortega did. And in a stroke of amazing good luck, he hit his head and he was out.
Unfortunately, in a stroke of amazing bad luck, the idiot discharged his weapon. The bang was loud in the disturbed air. And the bats went even crazier.
Rissa didn’t have time to worry about John. She grabbed the thug’s weapon, knowing she only had a few seconds before Big Guy number one came barreling through the entrance. Rissa pushed up against the wall and waited. She held the .357 in both hands, the grip far too big for her. Her arms shook, but she didn’t lower the weapon. Couldn’t.
