Running a hand down his whisker-free face—he’d shaved in the shower—he glanced around the room, and it occurred to her he might be searching for something he could use to tie her to the bed and gag her. Unfortunately for him, there wasn’t anything that would truly work, and with Amy next door, she’d probably be free in no time. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly, and then pinned her with an intense stare. “You do everything I tell you to do. If I say run, you better fly. If I tell you to stay quiet and let me do the talking, then that’s what you do. I mean it, Brie. No arguments and no hesitations, understood? Don’t make me regret this, because I’ll spank your ass into next week.”
She knew better than to celebrate her victory. “No arguments. You’re running the show. Got it.”
Shaking his head in exasperation, he stepped around her, strode to the door to the hallway, and yanked it open. “Let’s go.”
Following him out the door, she felt her anxiety rising to the surface again. Jase’s interrogation of Amy a half hour ago had made Brie worry about her sister even more, if that was even possible. He’d almost blown his cork again when the younger woman had told him that the owner of the club, Laron Marks, had demanded they give him their passports to ensure they didn’t skip out on him without notice. Brie had been shocked Nadine and Amy had agreed to it; then again, she was pretty much in shock about everything she was learning about her sister’s life on St. Lucia. And Jase was right; once they found Nadine, they were packing up her and Amy’s things and taking the two of them back to Caicos, even if they had to drag them kicking and screaming onto the airplane.
They rode the elevator down alone and in silence. Brie was hoping they’d be able to find a clue to her sister’s whereabouts when they reached the strip club. Each day that passed, the chances of ever finding her dropped dramatically, and Brie didn’t think she’d survive losing her last blood relative. Their father had been an only child, and their only aunt on their mother’s side had died two years after her sister. Diane Hanson and Mary Schnell had both lost their lives to uterine cancer while in their early thirties. Because of that, Brie and Nadine had been keeping religious GYN appointments every six months, from their teenage years on, to test for it since it could be hereditary. Thankfully, it wasn’t a given that either one would get it, but early detection was best if they did.
The elevator came to a halt in the lobby and the doors slid open. Brie and Jase’s exit was blocked by an attractive, dark-haired man, dressed in tan, cargo shorts and a blue T-shirt, and an equally beautiful, blonde-haired woman wearing a white sundress. The couple’s laughter stopped short, and the woman’s eyes grew wide as she stared at Jase. The blood drained from her face, and her companion and Jase cursed simultaneously as her eyes fluttered shut and she began to fall.
Before the woman hit the floor, the man reacted quickly and scooped her up into his arms, before pushing his way into the elevator, forcing Jase and Brie to step to the back of the car. Rage filled his eyes, and Brie’s heart began to pound. Despite her fear, she couldn’t help but be concerned for the unconscious blonde. “Um . . . is she okay? Shouldn’t we get a doctor?”
But the man’s angry gaze was on Jase. He growled before speaking. “Are you fucking kidding me? Hit the fourth floor! What the goddamn fuck are you doing on St. Lucia?”
Brie hadn’t noticed Jase had paled too until he reached around the man and hit the button that would send them back up. “Me? What the hell are you doing here?”
“We’re on a fucking vacation, you asshole! You’re supposed to be on Caicos, almost two fucking hours from here by plane! You’re goddamn lucky as hell my hands are full, because I want to beat the ever living shit out of you right now.”
Her head ping-ponging between the two men, Brie struggled to figure out what was going on. The woman was still unconscious, and Brie wondered why they weren’t hurrying to find a doctor or someone to help her. When the doors opened on the fourth floor, the man carried her into the hall and took a right. Jase began to follow, but Brie grabbed his upper arm, stopping him. “Jase, what’s going on? Who are they?”
“My worst nightmare.” Clearly distracted, he pulled her off the elevator and followed them down the hall to the last room. “I’ll explain in a bit, but I have to take care of this.”
“Athos, you motherfucker,” the pissed-off man roared. “Get the room key out of my back, left pocket and open the damn door before she wakes up. And don’t even think of disappearing, because my wife will want to kick both our asses, and I’m throwing yours under the bus first.”
Jase retrieved the flat card, and swiped it over the digital reader. When a click sounded, he pushed the door open, holding it so the other man could enter first. As she followed everyone in, Brie realized they were in a luxury suite, four times the size of the room she and Jase had one floor down. The man carried his wife into the bedroom and laid her down on the bed. Despite his anger, he gently pushed her long, wavy hair off her face.
Brie stood in the bedroom doorway, confused about who these people were and what was going on. She was also trying to figure out why the other man had called Jase “Athos.” But Jase had said he’d explain in a bit, so she tried to stay out of the way.
The husband stood and stomped to the bathroom. He returned moments later with a wet washcloth and paused when he noticed Brie, before kneeling next to the bed and laying the cloth on his wife’s forehead. “Who’s she?”
Still appearing shaken, Jase crossed his arms and leaned against the room’s dresser. “A friend of mine.”
“She has a name,” Brie spat, her own ire rising to the surface. They didn’t have time for this. Her sister was missing and the clock was ticking. “And she doesn’t like people talking about her like she’s not in the room. Now, what the hell is going on? I really think we should call for a doctor.”
“Angie just fainted,” the man growled. “She’ll be fine in a few minutes.” He seemed confident of that fact, but it was clear he was worried too.
Jase shook his head. “Sorry. Brie, this is Ian Sawyer and his wife, Angie, who I’ve known since we were fourteen. Ian, this is Brie Hanson, a friend who needed my help.”
It didn’t escape Brie’s notice she’d been placed in the “friend” category, as if fucking her these last three months meant nothing to him—and, damn, that hurt. Yeah, she’d agreed to keep their relationship just physical, but somewhere along the line her emotions had gotten involved. Apparently, Jase didn’t feel the same way.
Toward the end of the introduction, a cell phone rang. Sawyer pulled it out of one of the pockets of his cargo shorts and stabbed the connect button after glancing at the screen. Without a preamble, he barked, “Get your ass over to my suite.” He glared at Jase. “No, you don’t have to shoot anyone . . . at least, not yet. Just get the fuck up here.” Hanging up, he tossed the phone on the nightstand. “Might as well have more asses available for her to kick before she gets to mine.”
Silence filled the room, and Brie shifted back and forth on her feet, her curiosity rising. Sawyer continued to pet his wife’s hair, his voice dropping low as he spoke to her. “Come on, my sweet angel. Wake up. You can kick my ass all you want, if you just wake up.”
A knock sounded at the door to the suite, and Ian scowled at Jase again. “Answer that, twatwaffle.”
Without a word, he brushed past Brie, partially closing the bedroom door behind him, and then swung open the one to the hallway, letting another couple in. The woman was about Brie’s height, with her long, ebony hair pulled up in a ponytail at her crown. She was wearing a cute, blue and white, tie-dyed sundress. The ridiculously handsome man was about six four, and his dirty blond hair, although shorter than the woman’s, was also in a ponytail, starting at the nape of his neck. Topping khaki, cargo shorts, a snug, black T-shirt displayed his sculpted physique. His startling, blue eyes grew wide when he saw Jase, then rolled upward. “Athos, are you freaking kidding me? We’re dead. We’re all fucking dead, because Angie
is going to kill us, and I’m making sure she starts with you, A-man.” He pointed at Jase as he strolled further into the room. “Maybe she’ll be too tired to go after me by the time she’s done with you and Ian. Hell, maybe I should call Tampa and have the rest of the team come down for an ass-kicking. Where is she?”
“Who’s Athos?” Her eyes narrowing at Jase, Brie gestured to the bedroom with a lift of her chin. “He called you that, too.”
Jase shut the door as the newcomers studied Brie with interest. “Angie fainted when she saw me. Ian’s in the bedroom with her. This is Brie Hanson. Brie, this is Carter, and I assume this is his girlfriend Jordyn. We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting yet.” The woman nodded, but didn’t say a word. She seemed to be taking everything and everyone in and assessing the situation. Jase took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Brie . . . shit. I . . . Jase Atwood is an alias I took after I had to disappear from my former life.”
Her jaw dropped. “You—you lied to me?” Actually, his statement had conjured up a lot of questions in her mind, but that was the first one she blurted out.
“No! No. Shit.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Sit down, please, and let me explain.”
With an obnoxious grin, Carter sauntered over to the couch and flopped down, crossing his ankles, as he clunked his sneakered feet on the coffee table. He tapped the spot next to him. “Come here, Jordy. Let’s get comfortable while Jase tries to dig himself out of this hole. Things are about to get very entertaining, especially when Angie wakes up and starts kicking ass. Hopefully, I’m far enough down on her list of people she’s going to want to murder, but I’m sure I’ll have to eat some crow, at the very least.”
“Incoming!” Sawyer bellowed a second before the bedroom door flew open the rest of the way and crashed against the wall.
A combination of horror and fury covered Angie’s face, her pale skin flushing, as she marched over to Jase and slapped his cheek—hard.
“Hey!” Brie stepped forward, but stopped short when Jase held up a hand to her.
“It’s okay, Brie. I deserve it and a lot more.” His eyes and voice filled with regret. “Angie, honey, I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry? Sorry?” she screeched. “You have no fucking idea how sorry you’re going to be! How . . . why . . .” Tears rolled down her reddened cheeks, and she clutched a fist to her chest while the other hand cupped her abdomen. It was at that moment Brie realized the loose dress the woman was wearing hid the fact she was a few months pregnant. Sheer anguish spread across her pretty face. “You son of a bitch! I heard you get shot! I saw you bleeding to death! I buried you! I grieved for months and months over you!” Anger took over again, and she spun around to point at her husband. “And you! You knew, Ian! Hell, you helped him plan it, didn’t you?” She never gave him a chance to answer before turning on the third man in the room. “Carter, you asshole, you knew, too! No wonder you’re so good at what you do, because you put on a helluva convincing act! How could you bastards do this to me? How could you make me believe my best friend was dead? Get out! All of you!”
Sawyer stepped toward his wife, his arms outstretched, but she threw up her hands to stop him. Her voice dropped, becoming low and threatening. “Ian, I swear to God, if you so much as try to touch me, you’ll regret it. Plan on sleeping on the couch for the rest of the week—hell, the rest of the year! Now . . . Get. Out. . . . Everyone!”
Without waiting for them to follow her order, she stormed back into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Silence hung in the room as a full minute ticked by before Jordyn stood, shaking her head in evident exasperation. “That went well. Since I have no clue what’s going on, although I think I figured out enough of it, I have plausible deniability. Let me go see if I can calm her down. Thankfully, I’ve learned how to have girlie chats over the past few months. I suggest the rest of you take this conversation someplace else before Angie finds Ian’s KA-BAR and starts castrating you three. Too bad she can’t have any margaritas—I’m sure they would’ve come in handy right now. Guess we’ll have to settle for Shirley Templetons.”
Shirley Templeton? The drink is called a Shirley Temple. Brie stared in confusion as Carter let out a low growl while his woman knocked on the bedroom door. Shaking her head, Brie forced out the ridiculous direction her mind had taken for a moment; there were too many important questions she needed answers to. That woman, Angie, thought Jase . . . or Athos . . . or whatever his name really is . . . was dead? And the other men had helped him? What the hell is going on? And had Jase been involved with Angie before he “died”? He said they were friends, but it looks like it was more than that. Whatever the hell was up with all these people didn’t change the fact that Jase and Brie still had to find her sister.
On his way to the suite door that exited into the hallway, the blond god swatted Jordyn’s ass, then said to no one in particular, “Let’s go have a few drinks in my suite so we can talk in private. I’m sure we’ll all need one for this conversation.”
T. Carter poured some Macallan Fine Oak, a $500 bottle of twenty-one-year-old, single malt scotch, into three lowball glasses filled with ice. He then handed one to Sawyer, who was leaning against the frame of the sliding glass doors, staring out at the ocean. It was clear Angie’s husband’s mind was still on his pissed-off wife. The suite they were now in was almost identical to the one they’d left a few minutes ago on the other side of the hotel. The distance between the two had probably been at the men’s request for tactical reasons. Out in the field, it was better to be spread out than having everyone bunched together forming one big target. Yes, the two couples were on a vacation, but instincts, training, and experience were never far from their minds, and one never knew when a seemingly innocent moment could turn deadly. It was the same reason those in the military and law enforcement always sat with their backs to the wall and their eyes on their surroundings and the exits of any establishment.
Jase absentmindedly accepted the second glass of smooth liquor, with its perfectly-aged citrus, vanilla, and coconut flavors, when it was handed to him. Keeping the last drink for himself—Brie had refused his offer of one—Carter sat on the sofa, taking a sip and savoring the taste as if he didn’t have a care in the world. But looks could be deceiving. He was one of the deadliest men Jase knew, working as a spy for Deimos, a covert, US governmental agency. Jordyn was also employed by the deep, black-ops bureau most Americans had never heard of, and it was how the two had met—Carter had trained her. Jase knew very little about what the woman did for Deimos, but he imagined she could be just as lethal as her lover, despite her petite stature. Both were probably the last people anyone would ever want to be on the wrong side of. Thankfully, Jase had known Carter for years after they’d come across each other while working undercover, infiltrating a motorcycle gang in California, each for different reasons. Working for the DEA, Jase had been trying to nail them for drug trafficking, while the spy had been following a money trail from an arms trade that had originated from a faction of ISIS followers overseas.
His stomach churning, Jase placed his untouched glass on a small table next to the cushioned, rattan chair he was sitting on, while watching Brie cautiously as she paced back and forth across the suite’s large living room. I’m in so much fucking trouble. Once, just once, couldn’t things go my way? Was it really that hard for the gods of fate to smile down on me for just one moment of my miserable life?
“Brie, please sit so I can explain,” he pleaded. “This has nothing to do with you or our relationship.”
Yeah, that had been the wrong thing to say. Her eyes flared in anger, but she plopped onto an unoccupied loveseat and crossed her arms. Her jaw was clenched, but she still managed to snap, “So explain.”
Carter chuckled and Jase glared at him. “Shut up, asshole.” While his friend continued to grin like a loon, Jase stood and paced like Brie had been doing moments earlier, choosing his words carefully. “I worked for the government in the States and a drug cartel plac
ed a price on my head. I told you the truth when I said my mother and sister had been murdered.” He’d found himself giving her the very short, glossed-over version one night in Daddy-O’s after closing. She’d told him all about her parents, and then asked about his, while they both relaxed with a few bottles of beer. “It was while I was still in the Marines. My sister had gotten involved with drug dealers and one of the bastards thought she’d stolen some from him. In the wake of their deaths, I was offered a position with the Drug Enforcement Agency for undercover work under a new identity. I accepted the job and did it for years, trying to avenge my family’s death.
“Angie had been my best friend since junior high school. She was the only family I had left and the only leverage someone could use over me. I’d lived in fear someone would find out about her, so I did my best to make sure it didn’t happen. Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough. I’d gotten out of undercover assignments for over a year, but I ended up going back for one more. Because another agent had already been killed, I hired a security company to watch Angie for me—the one Ian owns. That’s how they got together.”
Salvaging His Soul Page 5
