The Viper

by Velvet Vaughn

  “Is he really dead?”

  “Yeah, honey, he is.” He hugged her tighter, a shiver racking her body and he realized she was half naked. Easing back, he whipped off his t-shirt and settled it over her head. It sported a nice round hole where Bixby’s bullet penetrated, but it would cover her better than her ripped top. She released him long enough to slide her arms in the sleeves and then they were back around him but she suddenly froze. He glanced down to see her gaze locked on his chest—or more precisely, on the round brass shell embedded in his Kevlar vest. Her fingertips ghosted over the bullet.

  “I saw Bixby shoot you. I-I thought you were dead. What if you hadn’t been wearing this?” Her hand flattened over the spot. “It would’ve pierced your heart.”

  He trapped her hand against his chest with his. “Don’t borrow trouble, babe. I was wearing it. The bullet didn’t hurt me.” Much.

  Her gaze met his, tears shimmering in the beautiful blue depths, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. How the hell hadn’t he noticed it sooner? Her perfect alabaster skin was marred with a deep red mark, the delicate area around her eye swelling. “He hit you?” he ground out through teeth clenched so hard, he was sure to crack the enamel.

  “It’s nothing,” she downplayed.

  “Ethan, start CPR on Bixby,” he said without taking his eyes from the grotesque bruise.

  “Why the hell would I want to do that?” Ethan’s tone was incredulous.

  “So I can kill him again,” he growled, fury like nothing he’d ever felt before consuming him. That bastard had dared to put his hands on Kellan’s woman. The fact he considered Annabelle his was something he’d have to process and deal with later. Right now, all he could focus on was revenge. Death wasn’t good enough. He wanted to make the man pay. Slowly. Painfully.

  “You came for me,” she whispered, pulling his thoughts from a dark place. “Even after I ran away.”

  “Always.” And he would. He had a feeling he’d follow her anywhere.

  “Thank you.”

  Then she was kissing him. It took him a second to realize what was happening, but his body was ahead of his brain. He’d hauled her up on her toes so she was flush against him and slanting his mouth over hers, ignoring the various aches and pains. Both of his bullet holes throbbed, and his chest felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it, but none of that mattered as he lost himself in her. He wanted to ask her why she ran from him. They were a team. Worry for his safety was a piss-poor excuse.

  The sound of someone clearing their throat had them breaking contact. An appealing flush colored her cheeks, whether from embarrassment or desire, he wasn’t sure. He was hoping on desire.

  “Not that anyone cares, but hey, I’m okay, too,” Ethan informed her with an amused tone.

  “I’m glad.” She walked to his coworker and hugged him. Ethan flashed a toothy grin at him over her head and Kellan took a step forward to rip them apart before stopping himself. What the hell was up with the white-hot spark of jealousy? Was it because she just kissed him with unabashed passion, or that he’d felt something for her from the moment she approached him at the airport? Whatever it was, it was damned inconvenient.

  Ethan smiled down at her and then his grin disappeared faster than a drop of water in Death Valley. “Kellan? Start CPR on Bixby.”

  “Okay, okay,” Thompkins grumbled, stepping forward. “This has all been very touching, but there will be no resurrections on my turf. You all need to leave. I may have to take care of some…unpleasant business if the other men don’t want to take orders from me.”

  In other words, pledge their allegiance or die.

  Kellan wanted answers before they left. “Earlier, you said Bixby wasn’t in charge.”

  Thompkins shook his head. “He wasn’t. He liked to pretend he was a big shot, but he’s not.”

  “There’s someone else?”

  Thompkins nodded. “Calls himself The Viper.” Thompkins scoffed. “What a stupid-ass nickname. I call him the puppet master. We’re just the marionettes. He manipulates the strings and has us dancing to his orders, but pays damn well doing it. But as far as this goes,” he motioned around the room, “it’s my operation now.”

  “Who is The Viper?” Ethan asked.

  “No idea. Never met him. I don’t even know his name. Bixby didn’t either. The guy disguised his voice so we couldn’t identify him.” He herded them towards the door. “Forget you know about this place. Oh, and lady—your brother’s still on the hook for the money he owes, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re free to go.” He eyed Kellan meaningfully. “Keep an eye on her. Just because I’m letting her go now doesn’t mean I have the final say.”

  Kellan understood the message. Thompkins wouldn’t use Annabelle to get to Robbie, but The Viper might. They needed to find out who the guy was, the sooner the better.

  #

  Annabelle couldn’t believe Bixby was no longer a threat. When she thought he was going to try and rape her, she vowed to herself to do everything in her power to stop him or die trying. Instead, he was the one dead. She breathed a sigh of relief, not feeling an ounce of sorrow. He was pure evil, but she wasn’t in danger from him any longer.

  Kellan tried to shield her from seeing his body, but it was something she needed to do—a way for her brain to process that he was truly gone. His dark eyes, beady in life, were vacant in death. Between was a neat, round hole. The Snidely Whiplash mustache was a slash of black against his now-pale face. A pool of crimson blood had formed around his body. She jerked her gaze away. She’d see that image in her nightmares. Still, it was better than the one of him coming at her with a lustful grin.

  Kellan guided her out the door with a hand on her lower back. The man Bixby called Thompkins said she was safe from him, but he didn’t have the final say. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder for an unknown threat. She’d never be able to let her guard down. She stopped and turned to face the man. “If you let me give you the money Robbie owes, you won’t have to worry about what the boss says.”

  She hadn’t realized the offer was going to leave her mouth, hadn’t even thought about the possibility of paying off Robbie’s loan. She loathed bailing him out of his mess, especially knowing he racked up the debt by betting on one dog killing another, but now that she’d voiced the words, she knew it was the right thing to do. Without the overwhelming obligation hanging over his head, he wouldn’t have a reason to come after her. Plus, it would keep Kellan from getting shot again.

  “Sorry,” the man shook his head. “No can do. This is between us. He doesn’t need his mommy bailing him out.”

  Mommy? Mommy? How did she go from stepsister to mother? Ew, that was just plain disgusting.

  “Besides, the debt just doubled.”

  Annabelle’s jaw dropped open. Now Robbie owed ten million dollars? She might’ve been able to scrabble together the five million from her funds and loans against her future inheritance, but there was no way she could produce ten million—unless... Maybe she could talk to the lawyer who’d taken over for Mr. Windham. There had to be a way she could access a portion of the funds. She needed to meet the person before she left town anyway, so it wouldn’t hurt to ask. “I can try to come up with—”

  The man dismissed her with a wave of a hand. “Get her out of here,” he told Kellan.

  “Come-on, Annabelle,” Kellan coaxed, tugging her arm. “Let’s go.”

  “But I—”

  “Annabelle, drop it.”

  With a sigh, she dropped it and followed Kellan and Ethan out the door. She spared one last look at Bixby and fought the overwhelming desire to spit on his body like the Italians on Mussolini’s hanging corpse. Supposedly.

  Kellan took her hand and practically towed her to the SUV. She had to jog to keep up. “Where’s the fire,” she muttered and then winced. It’d been at Rob’s house a few days ago.

  She glanced down at the blood on Kellan’s back, visible beneath the vest. “
You’re bleeding again.”

  “Yeah,” was all he said.

  “That’s because he ignored doctor’s orders.” Ethan glanced over. “Sutures rip?”

  “Probably.”

  “I’ll stitch them back up but it won’t be near as pretty as Amelia’s sewing. But don’t worry, FNG, you’ll have a nasty scar to remember me by.”

  “FNG?”

  Ethan looked embarrassed. “Uh, nickname,” he muttered.

  Well, it was a stupid one. “What does it stand for?”

  “Just something we called the rookies in the military. Fu-uh…freaking new guy.”

  Freaking—yeah, right. He had the look and bearing of a soldier. She pegged him as military from the first moment she saw him striding across the driveway at Logan’s house. Of course, then she thought he was a killer. His blond hair was longer than regulation, but from the way he carried his body, to his confidence and bravery all spoke of discipline. “You were in the Army?”

  Ethan gaped at her with a look of horror. “Wash your mouth out, Annabelle. I’m a Navy man, baby. A SEAL.”

  “Wow.” She was suitably impressed. “They’re the best of the best.”

  “Yes, ma’am, we are,” he boasted.

  “And I’m not the new guy anymore,” Kellan grumped. “What about Morgana? She came in after me.”

  “Yeah, but technically she’s the FN girl.”

  “Sexist much?” Annabelle queried. Ethan had the decency to blush.

  “What about Kline,” Kellan tried. “Hasn’t he qualified yet?”

  “Nope. The guy’s a slacker if you ask me, but then, no one does.” He sighed dramatically. “So, until he passes the tests or someone else is hired, you’re stuck with the title, FNG.”

  “Awesome,” Kellan grumbled, opening the back door and helping her inside.

  It wasn’t until she was buckling her belt that a thought struck. “My backpack!” She lost it somewhere in the struggle with Bixby. She wasn’t even sure where. Inside were the things that meant the world to her, including Kiki. What were the chances someone would find it and turn it in to the police? There were thirty-thousand reasons not to hand it over.

  “It’s right here.” Kellan reached across her and lifted it from the floorboard.

  Relief washed over her like a flooded river breaching a dam. “You saved it?” She hugged it to her chest and promptly burst into tears.

  Kellan muttered a curse. “Don’t cry, Annabelle,” he pleaded. “It breaks my heart.”

  “T-they’re h-happy tears.” And she needed to stop because it made her face ache worse than it already did. She tried to flash him a reassuring smile, but with the swelling, it was more like a lopsided grimace.

  He squeezed her arm and then closed her door. Once they were all inside, Ethan put the car in drive but after a few feet, he hit the brakes.

  “What’s wrong?” She peered between the seats. Had Thompkins changed his mind?

  Neither man answered as Ethan backed towards the house. She was getting awfully tired of having to repeat her questions. Why on earth would they be going back? The vehicle stopped and both men got out. Her crying jag instantly forgotten, she followed their movements, twisting in her seat as they met in the back of the SUV. The hatch lifted and they reached inside to drag something out. Her good eye widened when she realized it was the other man who’d been with Bixby on the street outside the bank. They dropped him on the ground, slammed the hatch and climbed back inside. Thompkins watched them from the doorway. When they drove away, he went to the man. She spun back around in her seat.

  Bixby wasn’t a threat anymore, but Robbie was still her main concern. However… she might’ve figured a way out of the situation. Bixby’s man wouldn’t take her money but she was positive Robbie would. She knew she shouldn’t give him the cash for nefarious activities, and Rob didn’t want his son to have his fortune, but he also wouldn’t want her in danger. If extending the offer to Robbie would stop more people from getting killed, it’d be worth it. If they headed straight to the lawyer’s office, they could be out of danger before nightfall. She’d have preferred to go back to the house and clean up, but that was so far down on her list of worries, she didn’t spare it another thought. She just hoped it was safe to visit the lawyer.

  “What happened with the shooters outside the bank?”

  “Lost them in traffic,” Ethan said. “They know the area better than I do.”

  “They probably had a getaway plan,” Kellan mumbled.

  She tried to get a look at his face, but her seatbelt impeded the move. “Kellan?”

  “Um?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Just tired,” he slurred.

  She slapped Ethan’s arm with the back of her hand.

  “Ow.” He rubbed the spot and glanced in the rear-view mirror. “What was that for?”

  Ow. Please. His arms were as solid as redwood trunks. He probably thought a fly landed on him. “Why did you let him out of bed?”

  Ethan braked at a four-way stop and turned to her. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m only one man—one mighty fine man if I do say so myself.”

  “You do,” Kellan muttered.

  Ethan ignored him. “It would’ve taken a SWAT team or me willing to knock him unconscious for him not to come along and I just didn’t feel like doing that to my good buddy.”

  She smacked him again. “Well, look at him now. He’s barely conscious and he’s ripped his stitches open.”

  “Again, ow. And don’t forget the cracked ribs,” Ethan added helpfully.

  “What?” When did he crack his ribs? And why was she just now finding out about it?

  “We’re both having a smidge of trouble breathing after, you know, getting shot at point-blank range.”

  “Pull over the car.”

  He glanced in the rear-view mirror again. “What? No.”

  “Pull. It. Over. Neither one of you are in any shape to drive.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, bab…uh, Annabelle,” he corrected at Kellan’s glower, “I’m doing just fine.”

  She slammed her back against the seat and crossed her arms. God save her from alpha males. They were just so damn afraid to show any sign of weakness. She wanted to scream her frustration.

  Having both men injured delayed going to the lawyer’s office. They needed to rest, especially Kellan who looked ready to pass out. Maybe the lawyer would make a house call? But no, that wouldn’t work. She refused to give out the address of Kellan’s boss’s house or their location.

  A benefit of delaying their departure from Los Angeles was that it would give her time to seek out Robbie and offer the compromise. She was ninety-nine percent certain he’d accept. His big worry was paying off his debt. But if she did this, what would stop him from running up another tab and coming at her again? Would she have to spend her whole life bailing him out of debt? Even after the inheritance was hers outright, she wouldn’t put it past him to kill her just so she couldn’t have it. He’d always been petty.

  “It was all about dogfighting.”

  “What was,” Kellan asked.

  “Rob’s association with Bixby. The hefty debt. It wasn’t humans they were trafficking, it was dogs. They train them to kill each other and bet on the winner.” God, it was so inhumane. Who in their right mind could find it the least bit entertaining?

  “It’s big in the underground, illegal gambling world,” Ethan said with disgust.

  “So the shipment they were talking about that you recorded,” Kellan started.

  “Was pit bulls,” she finished. “Some they import, some they breed, but they’re all trained for the same purpose. To kill.”

  The next few miles passed in silence. Those poor dogs didn’t have a chance. If they didn’t get ripped to shreds by another canine, they’d be so violent, they could never be trusted around people, or Heaven forbid, children. They would never live the carefree, happy life dogs were supposed to lead for their short time on eart
h.

  Kellan broke the silence. “How did Bixby find you at the bank?”

  “I wondered that, too,” Ethan echoed.

  “My guess is the assistant branch manager contacted him. I had to give my name when I arrived, and it took him a long time before he showed up to take me to the safe deposit box. I didn’t like the way he looked at me, so I didn’t take time to go through the contents. I cleared everything out. Then when I called him to leave, he tried to delay me.”

  “Did you get his name?” Ethan asked.

  “Dirk Beyers.”

  “Maybe he’s involved in the dog fighting,” Kellan surmised.

  “I’ll run a background check as soon as we get back,” Ethan said as he turned into Logan and Jade’s driveway. He consulted his phone and punched in a code on the keypad. Apparently, it changed daily. Pretty clever. Once he parked in the six-car garage, she unbuckled and hopped out before Kellan had moved. She whipped open his door, helped him with his belt, studiously ignoring his protests and then assisted him from the vehicle.

  “Annabelle, I’m fine. I can walk.”

  “I could use some assistance,” Ethan pouted. She tuned him out. She didn’t know him well, but she was beginning to realize he had a wicked sense of humor. Kellan, not so much when he was hurting. Ethan huffed out a long-suffering sigh and entered a code on the keypad beside the door leading to the house.

  With her arm around his back and his over her shoulder, she guided Kellan to the stairs.

  “Wait. I need something to drink.”

  She kept walking. “I’ll bring it to you after you’re back in bed.”

  He muttered something about hard-headed women as they slowly climbed the risers. Once they were at his room, she started tugging off his clothes. When she saw the bullet embedded in his vest again, in the spot right over his heart, she bit back a sob. She could fall apart later. He needed her help now. She unhooked the thick Velcro straps and peeled it off. The white t-shirt beneath was stained with blood from his original wounds. It came off next and she couldn’t stop the gasp from escaping her lips. His chest was a riot of purple and red and yellow from where the bullet impacted.