by Cynthia Eden
No wonder trust is hard…
“And when I was twenty-one, I thought I was in love. He was a law student, just a few years older than me. Tom was smart, charming, way too handsome.”
He hated the dick.
“He was also on my father’s payroll. Not that I realized that, of course. I would hardly have dated the guy, have slept with him, if I’d known that.”
Maybe hate wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how Victor felt about Tom.
“Can you believe that?” Zoe continued. “My father had handpicked the guy he wanted me to marry. A man he could control. Manipulate totally.”
Fucking hell. The burn in Victor’s chest got worse with every word she spoke.
“I found out that news quite by accident.” Her body brushed against Victor’s. “That’s usually the way I find out. I mean, it’s not like people come up to me and say, ‘Hi. I’m here to betray you.’”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“It was one of those random things with Tom. We were living in Vegas. My father never spent a lot of time there, he was more of an East Coast guy, so I thought I was safe. I went into a restaurant one day—and, bam, Tom was sitting in a back both, looking all cozy as he was chatting up my father. My father,” she said again, voice going husky. “One of the coldest human beings in the world. A mob boss. A monster. And Tom was drinking champagne with him.”
Don’t say another word. Don’t say—
“Tom saw me, and instead of being embarrassed or shocked, he called me over. He was celebrating, you see. He’d passed the bar exam, and my dad had just given his approval for Tom to go ahead and marry me. Everything was going to be all in the family now.” She’d slid back down, and she put her head on his chest, close to the spot that burned. His hands rose. Hesitant, so very hesitant, he hugged her. “Tom was going to take his place in my father’s organization. I was going to be the good little wife. Oh, Tom had so many grand plans for the two of us.”
“What did you do?”
“I walked out of the restaurant. Tom followed me. Told me that I couldn’t blow his chance. You see…he only got the job with Luther if I was his wife. Sort of a package deal. And he really wanted that job.”
The sonofabitch should have wanted you.
“I told him the man I loved would never make a deal with Luther Bates. Not for anything. He laughed and said that I didn’t understand just how much money was involved. We could have everything. The world would be ours.” Her voice turned distant. “But I didn’t want the world Luther Bates offered. Not after all the things he’d done. I mean, was I seriously supposed to smile and act like my father was an adoring man and not a cold-blooded killer?”
The man I loved would never make a deal with Luther Bates.
“Zoe…” This shit was going to be brutal. “There is something you need to know.”
“Sorry.” She stepped away from him. “I didn’t mean to get all heavy on you like that. But I was serious—you do make me happy, Victor. For once, I don’t have to worry that you’re trying to get in on my father’s good side.”
No, I’m just trying to take down the bastard, by using you. Victor felt like absolute shit. “Listen, Zoe—”
And then he heard it. A tap on the door. His head whipped toward the sound. Someone was on the other side of that motel room door. Not one of his team members, not at that time of the night. Victor didn’t waste any time second guessing himself. Didn’t try to call out a warning. He just grabbed Zoe and they slammed down onto the floor…
Right before bullets blasted through the door.
Chapter Five
The bullets hadn’t made a sound—there had been no thunder, no explosions that blasted like fireworks.
One moment, Zoe had been realizing that she’d just done a serious overshare with Victor, and in the next instant Victor had tackled her to the floor…and bullets had started flying.
The only sounds she could hear were the crack of the wood as the bullets flew through the thin motel door and the shatter of glass as they blasted out the window on the other side of that little room.
“Don’t move,” Victor whispered into her ear.
She needed to move. They needed to move. They needed to get the hell out of there.
The shooter was obviously using a silencer again, but…somebody must have heard the glass breaking, right? Didn’t that mean someone would be rushing to their rescue? And, dammit, Victor had said this place was safe!
He reached around her, moving his hand toward the small, bedside table. She squinted hard in the dark and realized that he’d just grabbed his gun. Zoe couldn’t even remember the guy leaving the gun on that table, but she had been, uh, a little busy before they’d gone to bed. She’d also closed her eyes and faked sleep during his stripping adventure, so maybe she’d missed the gun part entirely.
He eased the weapon off the nightstand.
The guy at the door had stopped firing.
Why isn’t someone coming to help us?
“There’s no point in dying for her, is there, Special Agent?” It was a man’s voice. No accent. Clear and calm and almost friendly.
Victor’s gun was inches from her face. His body was still on top of hers, his legs between hers. He was wearing his jeans and nothing else. Since she was only clad in her underwear and bra, the pose was pretty damn intimate…or it would have been, if they hadn’t been so close to dying.
“I’m not here to kill you, Special Agent,” the man continued. “So you can just turn away and not get hurt. She’s the one I need.”
“Too fucking bad,” Victor whispered.
“And I’m afraid…” The door gave a long, low groan as it opened. What had he done? Shot the flimsy lock? “I’m afraid that I can’t leave without her—”
Victor had his gun aimed at the door and when he heard that door groan once more, he fired.
The thunder of his gunfire had her ears hurting. He shot once, twice.
The guy in the doorway cried out—a pain-filled sound—but he fired back. Victor grunted, and he shoved off Zoe. His gun blasted once again.
Then—
A long, low moan drifted across the room. Zoe was still on the floor, afraid to move, afraid to make herself any more of a target.
“No damn way were you getting her,” Victor said.
Then the lights flashed on.
Zoe blinked against that too-bright light. Then her gaze jerked toward the doorway—and Victor.
He still had his gun in his hand. His muscles were locked, tense and powerful, as he stood over his prey. His bleeding prey. Because the guy on the floor had been hit, and blood was already soaking his shirt. The guy’s skin was ashen, and his body shuddered.
A gun was near the injured man’s right hand. But, the guy’s hand? It was currently crushed beneath Victor’s foot.
Zoe scrambled forward and grabbed that gun. It was slick in her hands. No, her hands were slick with sweat. And the gun was freaking huge, mostly because of the big silencer on it.
“You’re dying.” Victor’s words were flat. “You know you’re fucking dead. No way you live long enough for help to get here.”
Ice coated Zoe’s skin. All that blood…Victor’s right.
“So do one good thing with your life,” Victor continued, voice grating. “Tell me who hired you. Tell me who sent you after her.”
The man’s gaze slid toward Zoe. A blue gaze, filled with pain. Fury. Fear. “You…you won’t live long…either…”
“Who the fuck hired you?” Victor snarled.
“He won’t…save y-you…” The guy was spitting blood as he talked. “Others…k-keep c-coming…” His body jerked but he kept smiling.
Zoe’s chin lifted. “Yes, maybe someone else will come after me. But you know what? I’m not the one dying tonight. You are.”
And the fear grew in his eyes. This man—this hitman had taken so many lives—and now he was afraid of dying.
“How do you think they all felt?” Zoe
asked him. “Your victims? Do you think they were as scared as you are?”
His smiled faded. That fear was so bright and strong and when the last breath wheezed from his lungs…
The fear was still in his eyes.
Oh, God. He just died right in front of me. Her hands were shaking so badly, jerking and trembling as she checked for a pulse that wasn’t there.
Victor’s fingers closed over hers. “Let me take the gun.”
Her gaze snapped away from the dead man as she focused on Victor’s face.
“I don’t want you to accidentally fire.” He pulled the gun from her. “No more wounds tonight.”
That was when she realized—“You’re bleeding!” Blood was streaming down his arm.
And a dead hitman is at our feet. How is this my life?
“Flesh wound.” Victor shrugged it off, like a bullet wound was totally nothing to him, being the super special agent that he was. Bullshit. A bullet wound is a bullet wound! “We need to get out of here.”
She shook her head.
“This place is seriously compromised. With the bounty on your head, another hitman could show any second.” He pushed her toward the bed, away from the body. “I’ll call Russell and he can get a clean-up crew out here.”
A clean-up crew? “Luther used the same kind of crew.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach. Held tight. “Heard him call for them before…”
His eyes narrowed on her. “You heard your father call for a team to clean up after a murder?”
Zoe…be careful. “I’m sure the FBI’s team is much different. You’re not just going to make the body disappear, right?” She hurried toward the bed. She dressed as quickly as she could and tried extra hard not to glance back at the dead man. She didn’t know him. He was a complete stranger to her. A stranger who’d been ready to kill her for money.
Most people will sell out their own families for that much money.
“What body did your father make vanish?”
She was dressed. So was Victor. She hadn’t even realized he was putting on the rest of his clothes and his shoes. When she looked at his arm, she saw that the blood was soaking the sleeve of his shirt. “Luther is in jail for killing four of his associates.” She felt numb. “Why does another body matter to you now? It’s not like he’s getting out.”
His jaw locked as he turned away from her. “Don’t be too sure,” he muttered.
“What?”
But he’d bent near the body. His hands went to the guy’s pockets.
“Victor! What are you doing?”
Victor lifted his hand, holding a key ring. “I thought I got the tracker off our ride. Maybe there was another one on the SUV that I didn’t see. Or maybe he followed Russell and Lauren here—I don’t know how he found us, but I’m not taking chances.” He gave a grim nod. “What I am taking…is his ride. No one should be able to follow us in that.”
He’d put his holster back on and tucked his gun inside. The dead man’s gun—that was on the bedside table now. Victor pulled out his phone and put it to his ear.
Zoe’s gaze kept sliding to that dead man. Not my first body. With Luther as my father, how could it be? But it never got easier. Even knowing that the guy had wanted her dead…
Never any easier.
“Russell?” Victor spoke into his phone. “Yeah, yeah, get back to the motel and bring a crew with you.” A slight pause. “No, I found the bastard. Or rather, he found us. He’s here, and I’ll need you to take care of him.”
She shivered.
“No, you won’t be able to question him. You can’t question the dead. He came in, gun blazing. I had to return fire.”
Because he’d been saving her life. The hitman had given Victor the option of walking away. Of saving himself.
Instead, he killed…for me.
“I’m getting Zoe out of here. I’ll call again when we’re secure. You run the guy’s prints, check his DNA. Find out everything you can about him, got it? I’ll check in as soon as I can.”
He pushed the phone into the pocket of his jacket. Then he was reaching for her again. They stepped over the body. God, it feels wrong to just leave him! And a moment later, they were out in the cold night air.
“No one came,” Zoe whispered. “Someone must’ve heard the glass shatter—or the blast of your gun.” He’d had no silencer on his weapon. “But no one came to help.”
“That’s because this isn’t the helping kind of place.” He headed straight for the darkest part of the lot—and, sure enough, a motorcycle waited there. He put the key in the bike and had it growling to life. “When folks hear noises like that here, they hunker down. Helping is the last thing on their minds.” He straddled the bike and offered her his hand.
“We are going to freeze our asses off on that thing,” Zoe warned him.
He smiled. “Don’t worry. I won’t keep us on the roads too long. Priority one is getting you away from the scene. Priority two is making sure I use a ride that can’t be traced tonight.”
She climbed on behind him. He gave her the helmet to wear.
“Hold tight,” Victor told her.
She locked her arms around him. “Where are we heading?”
“I made a deal with you, didn’t I? You want to find your friend Michelle, and since we both know she was last seen in Vegas…Sin City, here we come.”
“But that’s like…twenty hours away.” They were not riding the motorcycle that whole way, were they? They’d be frozen long before they made it.
“Don’t worry. I have a friend who I can call to help us out.”
And the motorcycle zoomed out of that parking lot. A dead man’s bike. She held Victor even tighter as the motorcycle’s engine vibrated, shaking her whole body. The wind whipped against her, chilling her, but because she was so close to Victor, his warmth seeped into her. He took the brunt of the cold.
He was protecting her, again.
Victor Monroe.
The special agent she was starting to trust…
And a man she desperately needed.
***
Russell gave a low whistle when he walked into the motel room and saw the body on the floor. “Guess he learned that Vic doesn’t play around.”
Lauren knelt near the body and put her hands on the man’s throat. Russell thought it was pretty obvious that the guy was dead, but, hey if the new girl wanted to check…
She looked up at him.
He raised his brows. “Better get some gloves on,” he advised. “You don’t want to contaminate the scene.” His gaze slid around the room. The glass in the window was broken. Some of the glass had rained down on the bed. A very rumpled bed.
Vic, I sure as hell hope you know what you’re doing.
When he looked back at Lauren, her gaze was on the bed, too. And she was blushing.
New girl. He almost smiled.
“It’s a good thing Agent Monroe was awake when the attack occurred,” Lauren said, clearing her throat. “Otherwise…”
“Otherwise Zoe Peters would be dead.” Victor had always been a lucky bastard. “And he might be dead right along with her.”
Instead…a mystery man lay on the floor. A guy who should’ve been able to get the drop in the middle of the night, but he hadn’t. Because the hitman had made the mistake of going up against Victor.
“They’re…involved, aren’t they?” Lauren asked carefully.
Russell sighed. “Look, Lauren, just because you share a room with an asset…that doesn’t mean you’re fucking her.”
She flinched. She really was going to have to leave that prudishness at the door if she wanted to make it as an agent.
“Is he…though? Fucking her?”
Russell wasn’t about to touch that one. “Victor Monroe has a job to do. He’ll do that job.”
“Protecting Zoe…” She nodded.
That wasn’t exactly the job. But Lauren wasn’t on a higher clearance level, so Russell didn’t answer her. He just paced closer
to the body. His eyes narrowed. That guy…he looked familiar to him.
I’ve seen that face before…
He’d been involved with the Luther Bates investigation on and off for years. And he knew this guy—you’re connected to Luther.
But…how?
Just where did this hit man fit into the mix?
***
Zoe and Victor took shelter at another small motel, one close to the airport. They stayed on the road for just over an hour, going far enough, fast enough, that Victor was sure no one was on their trail.
His fingers felt fucking numb by the time they walked into their little room—a room that was a damn sight nicer than the last place. He took off his coat, wincing a bit when his new wound protested the move.
“While you’re taking things off, ditch your shirt, too,” Zoe ordered.
He smiled at her. “Baby, I love that you’re in the mood after everything’s that happened—”
She growled at him and grabbed his hand. “Stop thinking you’re God’s gift and let me look at that wound, okay?”
“I told you, it’s nothing.”
“And I’m telling you…I’m looking at that wound.” She dragged him toward the little bathroom. He let her because, yeah, he probably needed to clean the graze. The last thing he wanted was some kind of infection setting in.
That ride on the bike had been colder than he anticipated. Was it December already? Hell. Time just kept pushing right past for him. The days were a blur of work. Missions that never ended. Deaths and murders and betrayals.
“You don’t have to play the ice man with me.” She was very slowly—and carefully—lifting up his shirt. The sleeve pulled on the wound, but he didn’t flinch. He didn’t want Zoe to think she was hurting him. “You killed a man tonight. I know…I know that has to make you feel…” But she broke off, biting her lip.
“How does it make me feel?” How was it supposed to make him feel?
