by S R Mitchell
He lowered his head, placing little kisses on her lips and neck as they moved, letting his arms circle her tiny waist. He left a blazing hot trail where his lips touched her sensitive skin.
She moved her hands slowly up his bare sides to his shoulders and wrapped her hands in his hair, effectively deepening the kiss. For the moment, she let herself get lost in what was happening. This wasn't like her and she didn’t care.
Brock made Allie’s head feel foggy and her body feel hot. She pressed against him and let the music move them.
Something was beginning to burn her nose and it brought her out of the haze in her brain.
“Oh, crap! The bacon,” Allie yelped, pulling herself away from him and running to the smoking pan on the stove.
Brock chuckled as he made his way over. “It’s my fault. I distracted you; let me help.”
“No, no,” Allie said with the smoking pan in one hand as she turned on the cold water with the other. “I got it.” She dumped the pan into the sink. The bacon was nothing but blackened sticks. Allie sighed.
She looked up to see him smiling and felt her cheeks burn.
Brock could see she was embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he started, “you looked so…”
“So...?” Allie repeated and waited.
“You looked so damn sexy moving like you were with that song,” Brock rubbed his face, “and after the kiss last night, I just had to touch you.”
Allie stared at him, not sure what to say. They just looked at each other and smiled. The sexual tension between them was growing, almost palpable.
Then her attention was drawn to a little red light moving on his chest. She stared at it a moment as it moved slightly. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to his chest then looking for a source.
Brock moved, thinking she was focused on a spot behind him. The window in her kitchen shattered and pain laced his arm. He dove for her and hit the kitchen floor hard, adrenaline pumping through his body. The window shattered and the kitchen was filled with the sound of glass hitting and scattering across the floor.
“What the hell,” Allie said as panic raced through her and she looked at his arm. “Did someone just try to shoot you?” Allie shook her head. “Someone just tried to freaking shoot you!” She gasped. “Oh my gosh, you’re bleeding!” Allie looked at the gash across his left shoulder. “Let me get some antiseptic and bandages.” She moved to get up, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back down to the floor with a thud.
“Yes, someone just tried to shoot me,” Brock ground out, “and no, don’t move yet. They may be watching for movement so they can take another shot.”
Allie just shook her head. This was not happening, she thought repeatedly.
She so badly wanted to use her magic to heal Brock’s shoulder. It made her fingers itch with unreleased magic. Instead, she watched his blood trail down his arm from the wound.
Chapter 7
Jess cursed under his breath. He’d missed his fucking mark because of the damned woman. He’d stood in the snow outside the window watching them sway, dance, and kiss each other. Looked like Brock has a new girl, Jess thought and chuckled under his breath. Was she just like the others? Would he use her? Would he take what she offered for a short time before letting her go? Was she just after his money? Or physical satisfaction?
He watched them. No. This one seemed different. There was something about her, dressed in her little Christmas leggings, which made her stand apart from the others. It was a shame, he thought, for Brock to possibly find a good one just when he had to cut things short.
He’d waited for her to move out of the way so he had a clear visual on Brock. It would have just been easier to take them both out, but he’d wanted to spare her.
Shit!
He took a deep breath and steadied himself. Finally, she moved and he took aim. The little red dot marked its spot on Brock's chest over his heart, and he pulled the trigger. The glass shattered and he heard her scream, but Brock moved at the last second. Jess watched as Brock dove quickly for cover, taking her down with him.
“Fuck!” he hissed.
Shit just got complicated.
He looked through the scope of his sniper rifle, watching for any movement. He wanted this done.
After twenty minutes of sitting in the cold snow, he made his way around the house, looking in windows as he went. Finally, he had a break as he spotted them through a little window in the front. He aimed and shot, but luck was not with him and it hit the wall beside Brock’s head. He cursed again under his breath as he watched Brock grab the girl and quickly push them farther down the hall out of sight. The anger inside him was rapidly growing.
He’d spent the morning setting up a few things in case anything went wrong, but he’d hoped he’d have no use for them. He smiled and removed a small box from his pocket. Opening it, Jess hit the first of four small red buttons. Down the road a bit, the satisfying sound of Brock’s car exploding traveled back to him.
He moved along the perimeter of the house till he reached the back and slowly crept to the crop of brush across from the one-car garage. He’d hold his ground and wait. He would force them out. Jess again removed the small box from his pocket. Opening it, he hit the second of four small red buttons.
Another explosion rang through the air from the far side of the house by the kitchen and Jess smiled. The greenhouse, he thought as the smell of smoke seeped into his nostrils. This was getting interesting.
~*~
There was a lot of blood from the gash on his shoulder. He’d stuck his arm in the sink when they reached the bathroom and rinsed off the wound, then dabbed it dry, but still the blood oozed.
Allie quickly ran a finger over the gash, healing it just enough to stop the bleeding as Brock turned away. She’d cleaned and bandaged his arm in the upstairs bathroom as quickly as she could.
They’d waited and listened, but the house was silent and snow fell past the little octagonal window of her bathroom. The silence made her nervous as it did Brock, but he seemed to know what to do. He was not flustered at all, and it helped to calm her slightly.
The bullet that was now embedded in her wall in the downstairs hall had come a little too close for comfort. Brock was lucky he still had his brains in his skull where they belonged. She couldn't believe this was happening. It was surreal.
There was a loud boom out front. Somewhere she heard Max meow and wondered if he was okay.
She followed him to a window in the second-floor hall that happened to look out to the front of her house, and they could see smoke and flames coming from his car. Brock cursed under his breath, “Well, I guess they wanted to make sure I couldn’t leave.”
“Or maybe they didn’t like your car,” Allie giggled. “Okay, sorry. That was very not funny.”
Brock’s lips twitched. “Well, there are other ways to tell someone that you don’t like their car.”
“I was just trying to make light of the subject,” Allie sighed.
“It’s okay to be scared, Allie. If you hadn’t moved when you did, the first bullet could have killed both of us,” Brock stated. He knew she was trying to hide it—to keep her cool—but her body language gave her away.
“Well we do need to get out of here one way or another before we don’t have an out and we are trapped here. I do not know how many attackers are out there, and I doubt they’ve left. They’ll wait for us to make a move and take us out. You’re now a liability.” Brock was very direct; she needed to understand the severity of their situation. “We need to get to your truck, Allie, and make a run for it. I have no weapons here, and we’re sitting ducks. Once we’re in the truck, I want you to stay down until I say so.” Brock stared at her and waited until she nodded her understanding.
Allie agreed. “Who could be after you?” She asked, exasperated as she led through the house to the garage at the back. She followed him through the darkness of the garage to her old pickup truck.
“I don’t know, but if I c
atch them, they are…” He paused and looked at her. “I’ll protect you Allie. I will get you out of here.”
Allie smiled, “I know. You said you own a special ops company; you protect a lot of people. I trust you, and I hope you know what the hell you’re doing.”
He smiled at her. “I do,” he paused for a moment, “and obviously, I pissed someone off.” The house shook as something else exploded; he reached for Allie and froze.
“Oh, no,” Allie said with a tear escaping down her cheek and then another broke free. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. “My house, my memories, and all my hard work to restore it,” Allie whispered. “They’re destroying it.”
“It’s okay,” Brock tried to reassure her. “It will be okay. I’ll have it all fixed. I promise.”
Brock now donned his shirt and shoes. He slid on the jacket he’d carried in his hand.
Allie also slipped on her jacket she’d grabbed off the hook by the back door that led into the garage and slipped on her winter boots.
“Here kitty, kitty,” she said in a low voice. “Max,” she called out.
“We don’t have time for that,” Brock muttered as the cat appeared at his feet. “Fine,” he retorted, “here.” He picked up the fluff ball and gave it to Allie, who quickly wrapped him up tight in a very large towel.
“Remember, I said keep your head down,” Brock repeated to Allie who just nodded her head.
“My aunt doesn’t live too far from here, maybe ten minutes. If we can get to the main road, we can make it to her house,” Allie said with hopefulness.
“I don't want to lead them to your aunt’s house just to get her hurt. They will follow the truck’s tire tracks in the snow and know where we went,” Brock answered.
“Don’t worry about that,” Allie said, looking away from him. “Let me worry about the tracks.”
For some reason, Brock found himself agreeing even though he didn’t understand what she thought she could do about them. “Put on your seat belt and remember what I said.”
Allie nodded as she found a good grip on Max, who just acted like everything was normal and purred contently. “I know, keep down.”
Brock floored the gas and hit reverse. The old wood garage door splintered under the force of the truck and the truck skidded to a stop in the snow as Brock quickly put it into drive.
Allie yelped and braced herself with her hands on the dashboard.
Shots rang out and glass shattered over Allie’s head as the truck began to move faster. Brock swerved right and left. Snow kicked up around the truck. Another blast sounded close to the truck and snow flew through the air and across the truck’s front window.
“Shit!” Brock exclaimed and he turned the truck and the tires slid across the old farm road toward the main road. A few more gunshots rang through the air but missed the truck. One last explosion rent the air from behind them and the smell of smoke filled the air and rushed into the cab.
Allie sat up and whipped stray hair out of her face as she looked around. “What the hell,” she breathed in shock. She glanced behind them but there was no one. No vehicle in hot pursuit. She knew, though, if they wanted them this bad they were probably not far behind. She felt Brock push the gas harder and the truck picked up speed.
The wind whistled around the cab along with bits of snow, through the broken windows as the truck made progress down the road. Max burrowed into the towel, finally showing sense enough to be afraid.
“Just tell me where to go,” Brock yelled over the sound of the wind invading the truck. They were both starting to shiver from the cold temperature and icy wind that relentlessly swirled around them.
Allie nodded and did just that, leading them toward her aunt’s house.
Brock was right, she thought, as she looked behind the truck to see their tracks left in the snow. Allie put her right hand behind the seat and began to gently swirl her finger in a circle, focusing on the tire tracks in the snow.
The wind blew stronger behind them, whipping away any evidence of their passing as they made their way down the road.
It would buy us some time, she thought. Whoever it was would have to figure out where they went first, and hopefully, that would not happen anytime soon.
Chapter 8
The truck skidded to a stop, the poor engine smoking and whistling slightly from its efforts, in front of Aunt Margret’s house. It was a quaint house with a wraparound porch.
“Well,” Allie breathed in, “here we are.” She grabbed the towel that contained her cat.
Brock shook his head. “I’ll need to make some phone calls.”
“She has a little office you could use,” Allie answered and sighed, looking at her poor old truck. “Guess I’ll be getting a new vehicle sooner than I thought.”
Brock looked at the shattered glass and bullet marks. “I’ll take care of it.”
She just looked at him.
Allie wasn’t out of the truck before the door opened and a slightly plump, but beautiful and shocked face appeared, framed by salt and pepper hair. Allie smiled, glad to see her aunt.
Aunt Margret held the door open as they ran inside to get out of the snow and cold. “Dear Lord, Allie; what the hell happened to you two?”
Allie glanced at Brock “Well, we were attacked or ambushed, or— “
“Someone tried to kill us,” Brock cut in. “Nice to meet you.”
Aunt Margret looked him up and down and then to Allie and back to Brock. “Shit!”
Brock chuckled. Aunt Margret was spunky. Then he looked around and noticed the soft glow of little white lights. This light obsession was obviously a family trait.
“Allie said something about an office. If you don’t mind me using it, I need to make a phone call,” Brock said, looking to Aunt Margret.
“Oh, yes, I don’t mind,” Aunt Margret replied, pointing to a pale blue door adjacent to the foyer they were standing in.
“What’s your address?” Aunt Margret gave him the information and Brock nodded, heading in the direction of her office.
Allie and Aunt Margret watched him go. He was a strong man, a smart man, and they both wondered why they’d been attacked.
“Are you okay?” Aunt Margret broke the silence.
“Shaken up,” Allie answered truthfully. “No one has tried to kill me before. They were after him, us, but Brock knew what to do and kept me safe.” Allie went through the whole experience with her aunt as they walked into her aunt’s living room together and sat down. “All that work,” Allie said, “the house and my poor truck.”
“You are here and safe now,” Aunt Margret said. “Maybe there’s something we can do to keep them off your trail for a while,” her Aunt smiled mischievously. “A little bit of magic goes a long way.”
“And my poor cat,” exhaled Allie, “he is probably frightened half to death.” They both watched as Max jumped out of the towel and took off running through Aunt Margret’s house.
“That fur ball of yours is perfectly fine,” answered Aunt Margret. “Animals have a way of surviving. I could probably do a little something to help the poor thing relax.” Aunt Margret winked at Allie.
“No crazy spells on my cat, please,” chuckled Allie.
“A little one won’t hurt it,” retorted Aunt Margret.
Speaking of which, Allie met her aunt’s gaze, “Where is your fat cat?”
“Oh, Kitty is probably off somewhere in the house lounging about lazily like normal,” Aunt Margret smiled. She loved that old cat. “Kitty will come when I shake the food bowl.”
They both giggled.
~*~
“Hello?” answered a deep groggy voice.
“David, get out of the damn bed, you lazy ass,” Brock answered jokingly into his cell phone. He stood in the middle of a pale blue office that matched the door, with a cream desk set into the corner, surrounded by bookshelves, and a brown area rug in the middle of the floor.
“It’s still morning, don’t be a ball bu
ster,” answered David. The rustle of sheets sounded in the background. “What do you want? I thought you were a work whore. Shouldn’t you be at the office?” He paused, “It’s my week off.”
“I know,” sighed Brock, “but some serious shit just went down and I’m going to need you and Trent. No one can know about this. I will need both of you. We need to find the persons responsible. I do not want anyone in the office to know what has happened, so keep it quiet.”
David sat up on the edge of his bed. “Fuck, Brock! What happened? Actually, where in the hell are you? There’s buzz around the building about you not showing up at the office the past few days. Dude, that’s not like you. You are a fucking workaholic.”
Brock told David about crashing his car on some back road after leaving the office pissed off, and how Allie helped him out of the car and brought him to her home. He went into detail about the attempted shooting in the kitchen and the explosions set around the perimeter of the house. Brock let David in on the Channey problem as well, but neither Brock nor David could see a connection. Now Brock was worried for Allie’s safety.
Apparently taking her out along with him wasn’t a big deal to whomever was after him. She was collateral damage. Brock couldn’t have that—wouldn’t have that! He felt very protective of her.
“If there was no report with the first shots, I’m guessing a sniper rifle was used,” answered David. “Dude, who the hell did you piss off?”
Brock sighed and ran his hand over his face and through his hair. “I don’t fucking know.”
“Well think hard because someone wants you dead, Brock,” David retorted, “like, seriously six fucking feet under.”
“No shit,” he ground out. “Get your ass up here and bring Trent. Make sure to bring some power with you.”
“Hell yeah, we’ll bring power.” David smiled into the phone, “anything else?”
“Some clothes,” Brock replied, “and don’t go there,” he said, knowing some sexual remark was coming. “She’s different. I didn’t want to screw it up by just jumping and dumping like I’ve done in the past. She’s not like that. She’s good.”
