by Angel Payne
“H-Hello?”
Several sickening beats of silence went by.
“It’s Ghid.”
“Uh, hi.” Hi? Really? Think you can handle things a little better than reverting to the age of fifteen, Zo? “How’d you get my number?” she charged. “Why are you calling?”
“It’s a good thing the I-Man has an excellent memory chip. Remarkably, he was able to dig your digits out of his ass, even in this condition.”
Zoe scowled, baffled. “What?”
“Hey…dancer.”
In the same instant, his voice lit up her soul and broke her heart. He sounded parched, exhausted, weak…and alive.
“Shay?” It was a combination of sigh and sob. “Ay Dios mio. Where are you?”
Another unnerving silence. Ghid’s burlap tone filled the line again. “Has Colton found you yet?”
She looked over to the agent, unsure how to answer in light of the way his eyes had gone Hulk-green with rage. “Yeah,” he seethed, “I’m right here, assmunch.”
“Thank fuck.” Shay mumbled it that time, sounding more pained. Zoe winced before exchanging a confused glance with Colton, who spoke up on behalf of them both.
“What the hell is going on?” Colton charged. “Who are you and what do you want with Bommer?”
Shay came on again, replacing his strain with wrath. “Goddamnit, Colton. Stop being Cowboy Bob. He’s not the bad guy.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that?” Colton flung. “You’ve been MIA for four days, Bommer.”
“I’m well aware of that, you ass.” He sifted the anger from it to add, “And pretty sure today would’ve been my last one alive, if it weren’t for Ghid.”
“Nah.” A horn sounded in the background to help punctuate it, clarifying the two of them were in a car somewhere together. “They wouldn’t have killed you, kid. Not before dicing you up a bit more.”
“Dios.” Zoe couldn’t help emitting another sob. “Then thank heaven for you, Ghid.”
Colton didn’t look anywhere near ready to join in her gratitude. “They who?” he challenged.
Ghid paused before answering—long enough to let a strange, foreboding lump form at the base of Zoe’s throat. “The same they I’m not going to talk about over the phone, even if we’re using a burner.” The traffic noises behind him grew a little louder, as if they’d gotten onto the freeway. “And the same they who are likely on their way to scoop you both up now.”
“Both of us?” Zoe questioned. “You mean Agent Colton and me?”
“What the hell?” Colton charged. “Why?”
Zoe couldn’t interpret the snorts Ghid and Shay emitted, roughening the line. Wait. Maybe she could.
Were they chuckling about this?
“Let’s just say your big brothers don’t like it when someone comes and takes their toys, Colton.”
The agent frowned. “I don’t have any brothers.”
“Yeah, you do. The big, happy, Langley, Virginia, family, remember?”
Zoe found herself the lone witness to Colton’s stunned glare. She was pretty certain she shared the expression.
Had the CIA been holding Shay for the last four days?
“Ghid…that’s a big gap of belief to jump,” she finally said. “And if it were the case, why wouldn’t the feds just call Colton in instead of scooping him up?”
“Don’t bother answering that, man.” The astonishing interjection belonged to Colton, who had his cell pulled out—with an expression that blew from fury to alarm in two seconds. “I’m already looking at the explanation. You’re not shitting about this.”
“Wish I was,” Ghid muttered.
Brynn, pressed up behind Colton’s other shoulder, also frowned. “What are all those red dots on the screen?” she asked. “And why are they all bunching up in the parking lot at the grocery store up the street?”
“It’s not for a fucking sale on Bugles and beer,” Colton muttered.
Ghid grunted. “You’re able to track the other agents in the city?”
“For safety and security purposes,” Colton supplied. “In this case, mine.”
“Yeah, we’ll see how long they let that last.”
As Ghid declared it, all the dots vanished from the screen.
“Oh, no!” Brynn grabbed Colton’s wrist and shook it, along with the phone. To Zoe’s surprise, the agent reacted with what looked like enchantment instead of anger.
“It’s not an Etch A Sketch, red.”
Brynn was too stressed to latch on to the humor. With panic in her eyes, she looked across the room. “Ellie!”
The hail was redundant. El was already halfway across the room, one hand extended. “Give,” she commanded Colton. The agent, too nonplussed to argue, complied. By the time El had tapped the device a dozen times and completed her technical magic, the trace dots were so globbed together at the grocery store, it appeared like a blood splotch on the screen.
“Shit,” Brynn rasped. “I liked it better when it was an Etch A Sketch.”
“Zoe.” Shay’s voice, though still craggy, now reverberated with his Dominant’s baritone. “You’re in danger too, dancer. A shit ton of it.”
“M-Me?” She hated herself for getting tremulous. The last thing Shay needed right now was a woman going soggy on him. Still, her confusion was legit. “Wh-Why?”
“You know about me now.”
“Know what about you?” That you have the strongest arms that have ever held me, know the fastest paths into my soul, give kisses I’d sacrifice a kidney for?
“I’ll explain soon, I promise. You just both need to get out of there. Now.”
“We can go to my place.” Ryder pulled out his keys. “As long as you all promise to take off your shoes. I had the carpets done last week.”
“El and I are closer,” Brynn countered.
“None of that works,” Ghid ordered. “I guarantee these guys will be pounding on all your doors next.”
“I’ve got something that’ll work.”
Colton’s assertion was quiet but strong, enough to still everyone in the room. Still, Ghid countered, “Fine and dandy, spook man, but you can’t spill it on this party line.”
Colton smirked. “Sure I can.” After a second, he called out, “Yo, I-Man?”
“Yeah?” Shay’s reply had weakened again, turning Zoe’s gut into a pretzel.
“Listen up.”
There was a rustling on the other end, as if the phone were being picked up. Sure enough, Shay’s next words were louder, right into the phone but just as tired. “Go ahead.”
“I want you to subtract eleven from thirteen, then go south but shoot north.”
“Huh?” Zoe stammered.
“What the hell?” El and Brynn chorused.
“Got it,” Shay confirmed.
“Huh?” Zoe bugged her eyes, but Colton maintained his focus.
“I won’t repeat for obvious reasons, but it’s in the decoder,” Shay stated.
“The decoder?” That one came from Ghid. “What decoder?”
“The one between my ears. What’s after that, Dan?”
“Double your age,” the agent replied. “When you’ve gotten to the target, ask for Oz.”
“As in the Wizard of?” Ry sneered. “Oh, this should be fun.”
Ellie drummed a finger at Colton’s phone. “No time for fun. The red dots are on the move.”
“Which means we are too,” Colton ordered. “Leave your phones, grab your purses, and let’s bug. I’m driving.”
“Ry always carries the purses.” Brynn stated it as they hung their bags along one of Ryder’s long, lean arms. “In the mall, that leaves us free to shop. In a situation like this, I suggest replacing shoes with booze.”
Despite the stress lining every inch of his face, one side of Colton’s mouth yanked up. “Zoe, I must commend you on your taste in friends.” He didn’t veer his gaze from Brynn. “They’re beautiful and smart.”
“Awww. Thank you, cutie.” Ryd
er beat Brynn to the punch on a response, though he had an unfair advantage. It was tough for Brynn to speak around the giggle she shared with Ellie as Ry gave an appreciative squeeze to Colton’s ass on his way out the door.
* * *
An hour later, Zoe tried to remember the metaphor she’d conceived while gazing at the stars back home. Something about life and somersaults…
Well, the comparison needed a serious upgrade now. Something along the lines of a couple of loco backflips.
She could only see a few stars now, though the light pollution from the Strip was a full fifty-four floors down. That didn’t matter when one was competing with a nighttime playground so iconic, some say it could be seen from space. From this picture window in the Vdara’s penthouse, all the icons looked like sleek postcards—the gold bastions of the Wynn and Encore, the Bellagio fountains, the Paris’s Eiffel Tower and hot air balloon—increasing the sensation that this was somehow all the craziest dream she’d ever had. In a second, she’d surely wake up in her room at the Hilton back in LA, rocking the hangover from hell along with the realization she had joined the gang on those margaritas—and that Shay Bommer had been nothing but a perfect man in a magical dream.
“Miss? The food has arrived.”
The statement, though soft, was issued in a voice so deep that she felt it to her toes. Just like Dorothy Gale, her dream had its own wizard, though hers wore tailored black leathers instead of a carpetbagger look, rocked two full sleeves of exotic tattoos, and had a face so beautiful, one barely noticed the severe skull cut of his jet-black hair.
“Thanks, Oz,” she replied, just as subdued, “but I’m not very hungry.”
Furrows appeared in the man’s silk-smooth forehead. “Are you unhappy with the accommodations?”
She almost burst out laughing. How could anyone be dissatisfied with this place? The two-bedroom suite, with its modern lines, gray and purple furnishings, and state-of-the-art everything for amenities, was fit for rock stars and moguls, not a bunch of backup dancers from a show up the street. When Colton told them he “knew a guy here” who’d promised he’d always have a place to stay, she wondered if that man was the damn owner and exactly what kind of favor he owed Colton.
“No, Oz,” she protested. “Everything’s wonderful. Really.”
I’m just agonizing every minute Shay still isn’t here. Wondering if that pained quaver in his voice has gotten worse. Beyond stressed about the completely cryptic directions that Colton gave them and trying not to think about them ending up in the middle of the Mojave instead.
With the telepathy only possible from a best friend, Ryder translated her stress into the most perfect words possible. “Colton, sweetie? While it goes without saying that we all couldn’t be happier with your secret hideout, can you enlighten us to how the hell Shay and his friend will find us too?”
Colton finished his bite from the flatbread pizza Oz had brought and then flashed what had to be his eighth complimentary smile at Brynn for the wine choice. “I-Man and I are a couple of action movie geeks. I banked on him remembering the films that were shot in Vegas.”
Zoe continued with a perplexed frown, along with Ry and Brynn—but Ellie’s eyes suddenly ignited. “Oh, snap on the downbeat! Yeah, it makes sense now.”
“It does?” Brynn muttered.
“Damn.” Ellie pointed a congratulatory finger at Colton. “That’s brilliant, spook man.”
Ry’s brows pushed together. “Hello, United Nations? Anyone there have an interpreter for ‘El Browning Speak’?”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Sheez, you guys. ‘Eleven from thirteen.’ That refers to Ocean’s Eleven and its sequel, Ocean’s Thirteen. There was only one place used for filming in both the movies—the Bellagio. But he also said ‘subtract,’ which told Shay to do the actual math. Eleven from thirteen is two. Going south from the Bellagio by two, you end up here, at the Vdara. As far as doubling his age?” She spread her hands. “Since we’re on the fifty-fourth floor, I’m guessing Shay is twenty-seven.”
A long silence stretched.
Ryder slowly cocked his head at El. “You officially scare me.”
El gave a delicate snort. “I have piercings in my ears, sweet thing, not my brain.”
“You still scare me.”
Zoe, succumbing again to nervous energy, paced back toward the suite’s foyer. “I’m still scared, period.”
No. She was past scared and now at terrified. What if Shay and Ghid didn’t get here? But what was she in for if they did? Everything still felt in limbo. She still kept expecting to wake up from the dream—
Until reality bashed its way in.
There was a key swipe at the suite’s door. Zoe froze, her stomach lurching into her throat. She rushed farther up the entry but was hauled back by Oz, his dark eyes issuing a silent dictate for her retreat. Colton, with pistol now drawn, yanked her even farther back. He pushed her against Brynn, who grabbed the agent’s elbow before he pivoted to join Oz. Brynn mouthed two words at him. Be careful.
That was certainly the slogan of the damn night.
Wrong.
As soon as the door opened and Ghid staggered in, supporting a man who vaguely resembled Shay beneath his cuts, bruises, and wounds, the night was stamped by a brand-new refrain. It was ripped from Zoe’s throat on a scream that began deep in her soul.
“Ay Dios mio, no!”
Chapter Fifteen
“Zoe.” Shay hated having to bellow it, but the woman was practically tripping over herself with panic and worry. It made his head pound—worse than it already did—to think of the woman keeping her shit together through the hijacking and the mortar drop at the base, only to tizzy herself straight out one of these windows. “For the twelfth time, I don’t need a doctor.”
He finished the order by pulling her down on the couch next to him, despite the rocket of pain it sent up his arm. There. Better. Fuck, it felt good to have his mariposa against him once more. A haven of softness, smelling like cocoa, cream, and roses…
He tucked her tighter, regretting that in comparison, he probably stank like a hobo. Ghid had brought him a fresh T-shirt, work boots, some underwear, and jeans, which he’d changed into when they stopped at a gas station to redress his wounds, but a cowboy shower in a roadside john wasn’t nearly what he needed to scrub away the stench from the last four days.
He’d let her go in a few minutes. For now, he needed the assurance that she was real, the verification that he was truly free of the ugly cocoon of the last four days.
Ghid, who crouched next to him, grunted approval of his move. Not a surprise. Ghid had his own version of a Zoe. Her name was Melody Bommer. Anyone with half a brain cell in their head would figure it out after spending thirty minutes with the man. Shay had now logged in a little shy of three hours with him. While the idea of the guy shacking up with his mom had been jarring to accept at first, Ghid had gradually won him over. The guy adored Mom so much, he’d sneaked back into Area 51 just to bust Shay’s ass out. The lunatic had used the pretext of being some chemical-waste-disposal dude, curling Shay up in one of his steel drums.
In doing so, the man had saved his life. There wasn’t a goddamn doubt in Shay’s mind about it. If the “experiments” hadn’t eventually killed him, then the despair would have.
Zoe snuggled a little closer, earning a soft kiss atop her head from him and a slightly bigger smirk from Ghid. The man had already examined “the nicks,” as he called them, from the side Zoe was pressed against, anyway—though when Ghid first used the term, he’d glanced at Shay to communicate how he comprehended the word’s irony. “Nicks” could be relative, couldn’t they? Shay had been bumped, bruised, and cut up a hundred different ways just jumping out of a plane to a mission target. The sight of his own blood was nothing new. But there was something different about the experience when watching a “scientist” with high-level government security clearance slice a strip out of his chest, then slide it under a microscope slide and make notes
about it…
He washed away the horror by gratefully grabbing the beer offered by a lanky dude wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with the expression PUH-LEEEZ. The blonde seemed weirdly familiar, though Shay was certain he’d never seen him before.
Christ. What was he “certain” of anymore? The reunion with Mom had been two hundred kinds of weird. And the little chitchat with Tait after his brother brought him down? Fucking disaster was a better term. Bash, Wyst, and a couple of the other guys had been caught along with him, meaning he couldn’t simply blurt the whole truth to T without compromising the entire operation he had in place—and Dan Colton along with it. By the time Tait relented and dragged him into a room for a one-on-one, Cameron hailed him on the radio with disgusting timing. That had deep-sixed any scrap of trust Tait might’ve thought about throwing his way. Tait had hurled the handset against the wall and then marched him back out to the hall, happily handing him over to the scientists with the clearance badges.
By then, the bad that had become worse took a nosedive into hell.
So no, he wasn’t sure of a goddamn thing anymore—except the woman still pressed so perfectly against him.
“Hey, hey, heyyyy, Mr. Shay.” The blonde with the weird shirt tried crossing hipster with talk-show host. Neither worked, which the guy validated by muttering, “Shit. I can be lame when I’m nervous.”
By then, the connection clicked to the voice. “Ryder.” He smiled and meant it. “It’s good to meet you.” Hell. It was good to be alive, period.
Ghid leaned back, nodding his head with what looked like satisfaction despite eyes that glittered with strange green glints. “I have good and bad news, kid. You’re going to live.”
Zoe tensed a little. “So what’s the bad news?”
“That’s the bad news too.”
Shay really wanted someone to laugh, to confirm he wasn’t as batshit as he felt, since he couldn’t. Laughing at the nightmare felt too much like tempting it to return. Zoe seemed fond of her perplexed frown, and Ryder was a loyal friend in backing her up.
