Guns and the Girl Next Door

by HelenKay Dimon

  The fire crackled and danced, jumping from the burning heap of the former cabin to the branches of the nearby trees. Without help, this could spread and cause a disaster.

  Holden closed the door and then leaned against it. The seam blended into the landscape until only the rock at the base of a small hill was visible. He, however, still had the green tint around his mouth. Even without any decent light she could see that.

  “You okay?” She rubbed a hand up and down his arm as she asked.

  “Fine.” He inhaled nice and deep. The air seemed to revive him. “We’re not out of the woods yet.”

  “Literally.”

  “We need to keep moving, just in case one of those guys got out in time.” Holden delivered the insight with his commanding tone back in place. Then he started walking.

  Not wanting to be left behind, she took off after him and reached for his wrist. “Where are we going?”

  “To the truck.”

  Maybe he hit his head. “Do you see a truck?”

  He leaned his mouth down close to her ear. “Trust me.”

  Another few steps and they ran into a pile of branches she hadn’t seen the minute before. He dumped his pack on the ground and wasted no time throwing the limbs on a stack to the side. Slowly, he uncovered a beat-up pickup truck. It was small, possibly once was green and didn’t look as if it could go a mile without chugging to a stop.

  “Really?” she asked.

  “Get in.”

  It took five pulls before the door opened. When it did, it flew out of her hands, creaking as it went. She ignored his glare and every pain in her body as she hopped inside.

  “Not the quietest getaway ever.” Mumbling under his breath, he chucked his pack on the floor.

  He turned the key and kept the lights off. Remarkably, the engine started. It didn’t clink or sputter either.

  With the truck in Reverse, he rested his arm across the back of the bench seat. Whatever he was about to say had him grinning, but then his mouth fell into a flat line. “Get down!”

  She didn’t think. Hands over her head, she ducked but not before she saw the beam of green light flash across the front of the car.

  Holden yanked the wheel hard to the left as he stepped on the gas. His grip didn’t ease as he bent down, bringing his head close to hers.

  “Go faster!” She screamed the command with all the out-of-control terror bubbling inside her.

  “Can’t.” He pressed her farther into the seat with his free hand. “We’ll get stuck in the mud.”

  She could feel the energy pounding off him as pinging sounds echoed all around her. The tires slid and the back of the car moved as if separate from the front. With a sudden crack, the window next to her head shattered and the car slowed.

  She lost all ability to talk, to do anything, when a hand draped in a black glove reached into the truck. It slapped for her, grabbing for her hair, but she pressed her body low against the seat and begged Holden to do something.

  She watched him morph into superspy mode. With one hand on the wheel and his foot on the gas, he threw out his free arm and pointed his gun at the darkness over her shoulder.

  The deafening blast exploded right next to her face. She saw a burst of light and heard the thundering boom. Then the offensive hand fell away.

  By the time she sat up, Holden had maneuvered them out of whatever had a hold of the wheel. They spun around in a circle and drove about five feet before he slowed to a stop.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice rubbed raw from all the yelling and panic.

  “Checking.” He was out of the truck before she could stop him.

  She slid across the seat and peeked out the driver’s side door. “Holden!”

  “Do not move,” he called back.

  Her muscles were frozen. If she wanted to jump down, run—anything—she couldn’t. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until he ran back and slid into his seat.

  She smacked his arm.

  “Hey!” He had the nerve to look offended.

  “What were you thinking?”

  “That I could identify him.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “Did you?”

  “No.” Holden kept glancing in his rearview mirror as he drove slow but steady through the chocking woods.

  “Is he…”

  “Dead?” Holden looked at her then. The terrified anguish from the tunnel was gone. He wore a mask of fury now.

  She didn’t know if he was angry with her or coasting on adrenaline. Either way, she didn’t appreciate the barking. If he wanted attitude, she was more than prepared to show him some.

  “Well, is he?”

  “Very.”

  Chapter Six

  In the past hour he’d shot a man through the forehead and crawled through a tunnel. Only one of those things made Holden want to throw up. The fact that the small space scared him more than the killing made his stomach churn and heave even more.

  Four years out of the military—away from the night that haunted him, breaking into his sleep at least once a week—and tight spaces still dropped him to his knees. And this time he had a witness.

  No one, not even his fellow Recovery agents, knew about his private fears. Now Mia did. That fact ticked him off. It was the sort of weapon he didn’t hand anyone.

  They walked down the hall of the nondescript condo building, his anger festering with every step. A part of him knew picking her out as the target of his rage and frustration was irrational. The other part of him didn’t care.

  She broke into his sanctuary and dragged him out of it. Because of her, he lost his house and everything in it. He wasn’t one to collect stuff. He learned the hard way to travel light, but whenever he’d left before the choice had been his. This time, he got his butt kicked out by a hot blonde and a raging fire. He didn’t know which of these he liked less. The mix of the two sure as heck wasn’t his favorite.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

  He stopped in front of Rod’s door and rang the bell. “No.”

  “There are therapies—”

  Holden’s hand hesitated over the doorknob. “Don’t.”

  “They could help.”

  He faced her. “I’m sure you know what ‘don’t’ means.”

  “Are you always this testy?”

  Something about her getting angry sucked the fight right out of him. He hoped he hadn’t gotten to the point where bossy women turned him on. If so, he might try that therapy after all.

  “Being chased and shot at does that to me,” he said. “Yeah.”

  “That’s not what I was talking about.”

  He knew that. Knew it and ignored it. The claustrophobia was not up for discussion. Ever.

  When the doorknob twisting and knocking didn’t work, Holden dug the key chain out of his pocket. “We’ll do it this way.”

  She glanced down both ends of the hall. “Is this your place?”

  “Belongs to my boss.”

  “I thought you were unemployed.”

  “Former boss, then.”

  “I get the sneaky suspicion there’s a part of this story I’m missing.”

  “That’s what I like about smart women.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Almost everything, actually.” She snorted and he almost joined her. “For the record, it surprises me, too.”

  He pushed the door open and motioned for her to stay back while he walked inside. A quick look around told Holden what he needed to know. Rod wasn’t there. He would have greeted them with a gun if he had been.

  No one came into Rod Lehman’s place without an invitation. It didn’t matter that all of the Recovery agents had keys to each other’s places or that Holden called first. Rod was a “threaten first, ask questions later” kind of guy.

  “Your friend is very…neat,” she said as she touched the perfectly straight stack of magazines.

  Holden knew better. Rod set up the place wh
enever he left. Everything in its place so that he’d know if anyone came in while he was gone. Then there was the fact this wasn’t Rod’s true home.

  Like Holden, Rod lived outside D.C. Rod’s choice was a farm in a tiny town in Maryland, near the West Virginia border. Here in the city he had a one-bedroom with beige walls and minimal furniture in a drab shade of brown. It was small enough to see every corner no matter where you stood. There he had two acres and a security system that rivaled the one at NORAD.

  Holden headed for the kitchen lining the far left wall. He opened the refrigerator and saw barren shelves that went beyond a bachelor’s stark existence.

  “Hungry?” she asked in a voice filled with sarcasm.

  “Just checking.” Holden took a quick look around. Despite the empty place, something felt off. The muscle at the base of his neck began to throb. That was never a good sign. “Stay here.”

  She saluted him. “Yes, sir.”

  He stopped right in front of her. “Is that your way of saying I’m demanding?”

  She moved her finger and thumb almost together. “Little bit.”

  Being this close to her, he noticed the cuts on her face and the smudge of mud on her cheek. Under all that dirt lurked a stunning woman. Big eyes and a sassy mouth. It was a killer combination that kicked his lust into high gear.

  “You do understand that you came driving into my family room, right?”

  “I’m sorry about that.” She had the decency to wince.

  “You’re sorry?”

  The brief window of guilt zapped closed. Her mouth curled down in a frown. “I can barely stand, my skull feels like it’s about to break open and I’m pretty sure I have someone else’s blood in my hair.”

  He fought back a smile. “And?”

  “Then there’s the part where someone is trying to kill me and I have no idea why. So, I’m sorry if you find me unpleasant or ungrateful, but I just don’t have it in me at the moment to care.”

  Spunk. He didn’t want to, but he liked it. “Fair enough.”

  She was the first one to look away. She waved him toward the room on the other side of the condo. “Check the bedroom. I’m going to wash my hands.”

  “The sink is right there.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “I can still see.”

  “And talk. You haven’t lost that skill either.”

  She ran her hand under the water, letting the warmth run through her. Grabbing for a towel, she went in search of an aspirin to stop her head from exploding. She pulled open the thin door next to the refrigerator thinking to find a pantry.

  A man stood there, all curled up and impossibly tight in the small space. More than his position, she noticed the knife in his hand. The blade had to be five inches long.

  The stranger pressed a finger to his lips. “Quiet.”

  No freaking way.

  She turned to run, thinking to put as much space between her and the sharp edge as possible and it gave her a few extra seconds to scream for Holden. For anyone with a gun within screaming range, actually.

  Holden emerged from the bedroom at a sprint right as their mystery guest hooked his elbow around her throat. The edge of the knife pricked her neck.

  She flinched at the contact and got nipped again. To keep the weapon as far away as possible, she grabbed on to the arm of her attacker and pushed.

  Holden’s gaze flicked to the trickle of blood she could feel running down her neck and back to the man behind her. “Let’s calm down here,” Holden said.

  “I’m in charge.” The attacker’s hot creepy breath skipped across her skin.

  Fear replaced her headache. Her insides trembled as her knees lost their strength. She thought about elbowing the guy in the stomach or dropping to the floor and out of his reach—doing anything before she lost the ability to fight—but something in Holden’s cold stare told her to stay put.

  “There’s no reason to hurt her,” he said.

  The guy’s grip tightened on her throat. “Where is it?”

  Confusion flashed across Holden’s face but he quickly controlled it. “Tell me what you want. I’m sure we can work this out.”

  She knew Holden had a gun behind his back. She guessed he had other weapons, too. He seemed like the kind of guy who was prepared for an attack. At least she hoped that was true.

  “Give it to me.” The attacker waved the knife in front of her face.

  “What is it?” Holden’s gaze made a quick tour of the room.

  She doubted her attacker even saw the move. He was too busy spitting in her hair while he choked the life out of her.

  “Don’t play dumb,” the man said, pulling on her neck until the bones crunched.

  Holden nodded as his feet shuffled slightly. “You’re right. I have it. It’s in my car.”

  What? She stared at Holden, trying to figure out if he was playing along or risking her life. She wasn’t thrilled with either option because she feared they both ended up the same—with her bleeding to death on the floor.

  The stranglehold on her windpipe eased. “Where?”

  “Just downstairs in the garage.” Holden pressed down with his hand as if trying to calm the situation. “There’s no reason to panic. We’ll go down and—”

  “No.” The attacker shifted positions. “And stop moving.”

  Holden’s eyebrow lifted but he stayed quiet. As if he hadn’t heard the command, he kept his feet in motion. Small steps, tiny really, with just enough of a turn to put his back toward the front door and the attacker’s toward the window.

  She had no idea what Holden had planned. They were on the fifth floor. Unless he intended to push the guy out or scale up the side later to rescue her, the movements didn’t make sense.

  “You have two minutes.”

  Holden lowered his hand. “For what?”

  “You go down and get it, and I’ll wait here with your girlfriend.”

  Holden was already shaking his head. “I’m not leaving her.”

  Relief flooded through her. Whatever was about to happen, she wouldn’t have to face it alone.

  “Then she’s dead,” the attacker said in a tone that suggested he welcomed the idea.

  And like that, the short span of calm snapped. The man’s threat traveled to her stomach and landed there with a thump.

  “There’s got to be another way,” Holden said.

  “You go and I’ll take care of her.” The attacker’s hand slipped down her silk shirt to right above her breast.

  She tried to push his fingers away but the knife edged her ear. “Holden, do something.”

  The attacker’s hand hesitated. “I thought your name was Rod.”

  Holden kept his focus locked on the other man. “It is. She’s using a nickname.”

  “You go get it and I’d move fast because I’m going to be touching your girl while you’re gone.” His palm settled over her breast, roughly cupping her.

  Bile rushed up her throat. The idea of the man’s hands roaming over her brought her fight-or-flight instincts racing back to life. She swallowed hard to keep control. The knife was too close and letting this guy know he scared her would only bring him pleasure.

  Holden took a step closer. He didn’t try to hide this one. “We’ll both go down.”

  “Your two minutes have started.” The attacker put his mouth on the side of her face and inhaled. “She’s going to be good.”

  “Don’t touch her.”

  “I’ll be touching her, all right.” His fingers tightened over her breast. “So I’d move if I were you.”

  “Right.” Holden looked at her then.

  Those blue eyes were willing her to do something. She just didn’t know what. She concentrated on him, blocking out the man twisting his body around hers.

  Holden’s quick glance down at his hand happened so fast she almost missed it. One finger. Two. A countdown to something. When he showed three, she pushed all her weight away from the knife’s edge.

  The brief
diversion threw her attacker off balance. “You bitch!”

  The last half of the word gurgled out of him as he dropped the weapon and grabbed for his neck with both hands. Blood spurted as he gagged. Losing control of his legs, he slipped to the floor and fell back against the hardwood.

  The whole scene took only seconds, but she watched it in slow motion. She lost all feeling in her fingers and the air pumping through her made her lungs ache.

  It wasn’t until she glanced over at Holden that she realized what had happened. He stood with his arm still extended from where he threw the knife.

  Then he was at her side. “Mia?”

  “I don’t—”

  He cradled her to his chest. “It’s okay. We’re going to get you out of here.”

  “Who was he?” she mumbled the question in Holden’s shirt.

  “I don’t know, but you’re safe now.”

  She was because Holden had killed for her.

  Again.

  Chapter Seven

  Luke Hathaway opened the door as Holden and Mia hit the front porch. Holden hated to drag this mess into his friend’s home. Even with a messed-up arm, Luke could take just about anything anyone threw at him. But still.

  Luke and his new wife, Claire, lived in suburban Maryland, just outside of D.C., in a deceptively modest house surrounded by tall trees and a fence with metal tips sharp enough to puncture anyone who dared try to climb it.

  The area was home to horse farms and mansions owned by lobbyists and partners at downtown law firms. And congressmen. Walters lived four blocks away. Holden knew because he made it his business to know everything about Walters, the congressman heading up the top-secret hearings about the Recovery Project and its leader, Rod Lehman. The only thing Holden wasn’t clear on at the moment was whether or not the Congressman was alive.

  “Sorry to drop in on you,” Holden said.

  “Damn, you look like hell,” Luke joked until his attention moved to Mia and a killing rage washed over his face. “What happened to you?”

  She touched her hair and then glared at Holden. “Is it bad?”

  “You’re fine.” He worried that wasn’t really the case. Adrenaline kept her moving, but an inevitable crash hovered on the horizon. He could tell from the growing daze in her eyes and the way she touched her head every few seconds, as if that would stop the headache budding inside.