Fatal Encounter (A Counterstrike Novel Book 1)

by Jannine Gallant

  “I’m not.”

  “No? Are you sure?” He slid his free hand from her neck down to her breast and squeezed.

  Jaimee jerked hard against the ropes and managed to pull one wrist free. Swinging her fist, she hit his arm, sending the knife flying. It clattered against the floor a good ten feet away and slid toward the woodstove in the corner.

  “You little bitch!”

  As she drove her palm upward toward his chin, he jerked back. Off balance, the chair crashed over. Jaimee landed hard, and pain shot through her side, stealing her breath.

  He seized her free hand and jerked her arm. “You mess with me, you get hurt!” Inch by inch, he bent her little finger back until the bone snapped.

  A cry wrenched from her throat as a haze of agony enveloped her. Outside, a piercing shriek seemed to echo her distress.

  “What the hell?” Doyle pushed to his feet, ran to the door, and threw it open. “Mom!”

  Muffled thumps and faint yells sounded.

  “Shit!” He slammed the door and turned the lock. Zeroing in on the knife near the stove, he scrambled to scoop it up.

  Jaimee tore at the rope still holding her to the chair, and the hemp bit deep into her flesh. A whimper escaped, and her heart thumped as Doyle approached, blood lust in his eyes.

  “Jaimee!” The door vibrated beneath the force of a blow before the wood splintered and the door swung inward. Eli burst through the entrance.

  “Don’t come a step closer.” Doyle yanked her up against him by her injured hand.

  She screamed in pain, fighting a wave of dizziness as she kicked out, catching him in the shin. His leg buckled, and the knife in his hand wavered.

  Eli sprinted across the room and tackled him. “Bastard. I’ll kill you!” He slammed his fist into his cousin’s face, and they both crashed to the floor.

  “Eli! Eli, the knife!” On her hands and knees, Jaimee crawled toward the two men, dragging the chair with her.

  Metal flashed in a fading ray of sunlight shining through the door opening.

  “Eli! Look out!”

  He rolled sideways just as Doyle slashed downward with the blade, burying the tip in the floor. Bringing the heel of his palm up, Eli slammed it into his cousin’s nose. Blood spirted, and Doyle went limp.

  “Asshole!” Eli pounded the unmoving man.

  “Stop! Stop! You’ll kill him.” Jaimee tried to grab his flailing fist.

  “I don’t give a shit!”

  “Yes, you do. You do care.” Gripping his wrist, she let out a cry of pain but didn’t let go.

  Finally, he turned away and pulled her into his arms. “God, Jaimee. What the hell did he do to you?”

  “He broke my finger, but I’ll be okay.” Her voice came out with a sob. “Thanks to you, I’ll be just fine.”

  Stroking the hair away from her face, he kissed her. “I was so damn afraid he’d—” He stopped speaking and swallowed.

  “So was I.” She tried to smile but couldn’t. “I’m still tied to the chair. Can you cut me loose?”

  With a shaking hand, he yanked the knife out of the floorboard and carefully slit the rope. After she pulled free, he dropped the knife and wrapped her in his arms, pressing his cheek against her hair. “I was so afraid I wouldn’t make it to you in time. I never want to feel helpless like that again. Ever.”

  “You won’t have to. It’s over. Thank God, it’s over.” From outside, shouts and curses accompanied rhythmic banging. Jaimee pulled back a few inches to look up at him. “Vanna?”

  He nodded. “When she rushed around the cabin to put out the fire I’d started, I grabbed her and locked her in the shed. I was hoping Doyle would be the one to investigate the smoke.” Eli glanced toward his unconscious cousin. Blood pooled on the floor beneath his face. “Bastard.”

  In the sudden silence following his words, the whop, whop, whop of a helicopter sounded faintly in the distance.

  “Is that . . .”

  Eli nodded. “Your Counterstrike teammates. About damn time they showed up.”

  “You got the job done without them.” With her uninjured hand, Jaimee touched his cheek. “I was so very thankful to see you burst through that doorway.”

  Before he could answer, footsteps sounded on the porch, and Patch appeared in the doorway with Wolf right behind him.

  “Looks like you two have the situation well under control.” Wolf smiled at her. “Why do you keep calling us when you don’t need our help, Scarlet?”

  “To be fair, I didn’t call this time. Thankfully, Eli got here before Doyle did any serious damage. He made you guys look sloppy.”

  “Hey, Eli had a head start.” Patch studied them both with a critical eye. “I hope all that blood covering you is from the dude lying on the floor over there. Any other injuries?”

  With a sigh, Jaimee moved out of Eli’s arms. “The jerk broke my little finger. It hurts like hell and probably needs to be splinted.”

  “Who’s in the shed, screeching like a freaking banshee and pounding on the door.” Wolf glanced up from where he knelt beside Doyle. “Looks like this one is coming around. His nose is definitely broken.” He pulled zip ties from the pouch at his waist and secured Doyle’s wrists.

  “My aunt Vanna is in the shed.” Eli backed out of Patch’s way. “Uh, should I call 9-1-1 or something?”

  Wolf rose to his feet. “Why don’t you contact O’Leary instead. Less to explain that way. Let him deal with this mess.”

  Jaimee held out her hand to Patch. Her little finger stuck out at an odd angle that made her feel a little sick. She focused on Eli instead. “You’ll probably have to walk down the driveway to get service.”

  “Fine. You seem to be in good hands.” He cupped her chin before bending to kiss her. “I can’t wait to get the hell out of here.”

  She looked into his eyes and smiled. “I just want to go home and put all this behind us.”

  Eli let out a long breath and nodded. “The sooner the better.”

  * * * *

  Eli hit send and let out a sigh of relief. His edits were finished, the manuscript back to his editor, and he could finally focus all his attention on Jaimee. In the week since they’d walked away from the hunting cabin, he hadn’t wanted to let her out of his sight. Now he wouldn’t have to, at least not until his book tour started. Maybe not even then, if he had his way. Pushing back his desk chair, he rose to his feet and left the office, wondering where she was.

  He found her out on the deck with her bare legs stretched out on a lounge chair and her phone pressed to one ear. Watson sprawled in the shade next to her. The dog rolled over and moaned in his sleep. When Eli raised a brow in inquiry, she patted the cushion. He dropped down beside her and laid his palm on her thigh. The warmth of her skin sent a shot of desire straight through him.

  Her lips tilted in a smile as she locked gazes with him. “I’m definitely interested, Wolf. Can I get back to you about when I’ll be able to start?”

  Eli’s hand unconsciously tightened. He wanted to rip the phone away from her and shout, no freaking way!

  “Talk to you soon. Bye.” She laid the cell down and stared at him. “You’re hurting me.”

  “What? Oh, sorry.” He relaxed his grip. “I thought you were done with Counterstrike.” With an effort, he kept his voice under control. “You have a broken finger and a cracked rib that hasn’t fully healed. Now you’re looking for more danger?”

  “Not exactly. Do you want to listen to an explanation or rant?”

  “I’m not ranting. I want to, but I’m not.”

  “Semantics.” She lifted the hand still on her thigh and threaded her fingers through his. “The woman who coordinates with the families of victims is leaving Counterstrike. Wolf asked if I was interested in her job. It’s mostly phone work and an occasional meeting in person with individuals who are desperate to save their loved ones. The job requires empathy and patience and a knowledge of how the operation works. But it isn’t dangerous. I can make a
difference without being out in the field, and I like that idea.”

  “Oh.” A wave of relief left him feeling a little lightheaded. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions.”

  “You need to trust me. When I say something, I mean it.”

  “I do trust you, but I can also be a little irrational when it comes to your safety. After what my relatives did to you . . .” He let out a long breath. “I guess I’m still on edge.”

  “Understandable. I’ll forgive you since I’m glad you care.”

  “A bit of an understatement. I’d hoped . . .” He hesitated for a moment and rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “Does this mean you’ll be moving back to Boston?”

  “That’s something we need to discuss. I—” She broke off as his phone rang. “You’d better get that. It’s probably your editor.”

  “Not unless he’s calling to congratulate me on finally finishing my edits.” Eli pulled his phone out of his pocket to glance at the screen, and his stomach tightened. “It’s Reba.”

  “Talk to her. I can’t imagine how she’s feeling right now.”

  With a nod, he connected. “How’re you holding up, Reba?”

  “Not very well. I just spoke to the D.A., and they’ve added rape to the charges against Doyle.” Her voice broke. “All seven of those women on the list in Grandpa’s notebook were drugged and sexually assaulted while they were out partying. It happened over a period of five years, beginning when Doyle was playing in the minor leagues and ending three years ago. Several of the women identified my brother as one of the men they talked to on the night they were raped.”

  Eli stared out at the trees, wondering how he hadn’t known Doyle was such complete scum. “Can they prove it was him?”

  “The condom he used with one woman broke, and there was matching DNA in the rape kit. They expect to have more evidence from some of the other cases soon.”

  “I’m sorry, Reba.”

  “Mom was formally charged with hiring the assassin who killed Maureen, in addition to the kidnapping charges she and Doyle both face. They also arrested that FBI agent she used to date, the one who arranged the contract between her and the hitman.” She stopped speaking for a moment.

  He tried to come up with a fitting reply and failed miserably. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “There is one bright spot.”

  He could hear the tears in her voice and wished there was something—anything—he could do to ease her pain. “I could use a little good news.”

  “They aren’t bringing charges against Webb since they don’t have any evidence he was responsible for the hit and run in the newspaper article. Thank God that person lived. Anyway, Webb is back in rehab. He swears he’ll make it stick this time. I guess we’ll see, but he’s pretty devastated Mom hired that man to kill Maureen because she thought it would save his ass.” Reba broke down and sobbed quietly. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “I’m so sorry, Reba. I’d understand if you wanted nothing to do with me after the part I played in their arrest.”

  “None of it is your fault. That’s on Mom and Doyle. I have to go, but I wanted to update you before you heard it on the news or something.”

  “Thanks for calling. Don’t hesitate to reach out if you need to talk or cry or yell. Believe me, I get it.”

  “I know you do. Bye, Eli.”

  He set down his phone and met Jaimee’s sympathetic gaze.

  “How’s she holding up?”

  “Not very well. They’re charging Doyle with rape.” He repeated that part of the conversation. “Oh, they also arrested Dalton Monroe. My guess is Vanna wasn’t the first customer he sent Legrand’s way.”

  “Probably not.” She tightened her grip on his hand. “So, your grandpa knew what your cousin had done and kept quiet all that time?”

  “I guess so. In my mind, that makes him nearly as guilty as Doyle. He could have stopped him sooner, maybe saved some of those women a whole lot of trauma and grief.”

  “Unless your grandpa didn’t get suspicious until the end. Maybe he called Doyle out on it and threatened him since your cousin hasn’t assaulted anyone in the last few years.”

  “God, I hope so. Still, it’s pretty damn hard to take, knowing I’m related to the lot of them. Except Reba. I wouldn’t blame you if you walked away.”

  “Do I seem like the type of person to turn my back on someone I care about just because their background isn’t perfect? Mine is far from stellar.”

  Repositioning his legs on the lounge chair, he half pulled her onto his lap, released her hand, and threaded his fingers through her hair. The gray eyes looking back at him held nothing but compassion and love. After a moment, he went in for a leisurely kiss. “You’re flat out wonderful.” He kissed her again. “Boston, huh?”

  “I’ll have to go into headquarters now and again, but most of the time I can work from anywhere I want. Often our clients aren’t even in the area. Arrangements are made over the phone. Wolf will accommodate my needs since he knows what I’ll bring to the team.”

  “What are your needs, Jaimee?” he asked softly.

  Her smile was hesitant. “I’d like to be wherever you are . . . if that’s what you want.”

  He rested his cheek against her hair and tightened his arms around her, happy simply to hold her. “Are you kidding? That’s the only thing I care about. Cape Cod isn’t too far from Boston. Would you ditch your cabin here and move in with me? Permanently? You and Watson?”

  At his name, the dog scrambled to his feet, shook, and let out a bark.

  “See, he’s in favor of the plan.”

  She smiled. “I enjoy the ocean, and your home there is beautiful. You might be able to convince me.”

  “I’ll enjoy trying.” He slid his other hand under her shirt and spread his fingers across her bare stomach. When she drew in a breath, he pressed his lips to her ear. “Want to go inside?”

  “After we finish this conversation.” She clamped her hand over his fingers when they moved upward to her breast. “Life isn’t all about sex.”

  “That’s too bad.” He pulled away to grin down at her.

  A frown pleated her brow. “Seriously, I don’t want to screw this up.” She touched his cheek. “We haven’t known each other very long. Moving in together seems kind of rushed.”

  “I know what I want. I don’t need more time to figure it out.”

  “You’re more impulsive than I am. I like to ease into things.”

  Bringing her fingers around to his lips, he kissed the tips. “Which is why I’m willing to compromise and live together . . . at least for now.”

  “How is that a compromise?”

  “I figured you weren’t ready for a proposal.” He raised a brow. “Are you?”

  “Eli!” Shock registered in her eyes.

  “I can wait. If you’ll live with me, that is. Please don’t freak out.”

  “I’m trying not to.” She took a few deep breaths.

  A hint of insecurity crept in, and he firmly squelched it. “I love you more than anything or anyone. Do you love me?”

  “Of course.” Her voice softened. “Finding you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m just thankful you noticed me this time around.”

  “I was young and stupid back in college. Don’t hold it against me. Now I’m smart enough to know I want to spend my life with you.”

  “I love you, Eli. Watson and I would be thrilled to move in with you.”

  He kissed her, slowly and thoroughly, not pulling back until they were both breathless. “About that other question . . . it can wait. I want to do it right. Not crowded together on a lounge chair with my thighs cramping and a dog staring at us. I want to pick the perfect moment.”

  She laughed out loud. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  Coming Soon

  Lethal Memory

  Book Two in the Counterstrike Series

  Will a cure for humanity be the death of her?
>
  For biology professor Riley Adair, the stakes are high—and very personal—when she discovers a potential cure for dementia. News of her groundbreaking progress leaks out, and the consequences turn deadly. Someone is determined to claim her work and will stop at nothing—including kidnapping—to get it. But Riley’s abductors make a critical error, leaving her with no memory at all . . .

  Counterstrike, a covert search and rescue team, is called in to save her. While her rescue goes smoothly, Riley is left defenseless against powerful enemies who still want the formula locked inside her brain. Dr. Noah Kimball, the agency’s medic, risks everything—including his own life—to protect her. As danger mounts, so does a passion they can’t deny.

  In a race against time, Riley fights to recover her memory, while Noah fears he won’t be able to save the woman he has grown to love—and know—better than she knows herself.

  About the Author

  Write what you know. Jannine Gallant has taken this advice to heart, creating characters from small towns and plots that unfold in the great outdoors. A recent empty-nester, she grew up in a tiny Northern California town and currently lives in gorgeous Lake Tahoe with her husband. An avid outdoor enthusiast, Jannine enjoys hiking and snowshoeing in the woods around her home with her dog, Ginger. You’ll discover the beauty of nature woven into all her fast-paced romantic suspense novels. To find out more about this author and her books, visit her website or sign up for her newsletter.

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