Bodyguard Rescue

by Donna Young

  Roman frowned and ran his hands over her body, clinically checking for injuries. “Actually, you saved yourself. If you hadn’t been so insistent on carrying the rifle, we would both be river fodder by now.”

  She searched his face for the answers. It was then she noticed a gash in his forehead. With trembling fingers, she touched it, impulsively trying to soothe the hurt away. Tears formed in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  And then she cried.

  She cried for her, and him, and even for the dead soldier who tried to kill them. She cried for Marcus and the millions of people she unwittingly put in jeopardy. She cried because it seemed, for the moment, the only thing her body was capable of doing.

  Roman cradled her in his arms, comforting her with soft words. As the tears dried, he reached for her hand, unhurriedly bringing it to his mouth before placing a light kiss against the palm. His eyes flashed with emotion, and this time Kate read it plainly. It might not be love, but it didn’t matter anymore. As she pressed her palm against his mouth, she closed her eyes and opened her heart. No matter what the consequences, she would love this man until she took her last breath. Whether that was tomorrow or a lifetime from now.

  “Doc, we have to go.”

  Kate’s eyes opened slowly, only to go wide when she saw the danger lurking in the depths of his. Reluctant to move away, she waited for him to take the first step. When he did, she stifled the need to draw him to her again.

  “I’m fine. Shaky, but fine,” she responded to the unspoken concern that creased his face. It was true, she realized as Roman retrieved the soldier’s clothes from the ground and handed them to her. The crying had helped.

  “I’ll rinse these out in the stream,” he said briskly, then walked past her to the river, a pair of white socks in his hand. “Put the pants on.”

  Her stomach pitched at the thought of wearing a dead man’s clothes, but she fought against it, clinging to the fact that Roman was safe. If he hadn’t killed the man, Roman would be dead.

  The thought sickened Kate even more.

  Turning her back, she stripped off the shorts and used them to wipe the mud from her skin. Shivering in her underwear, she donned the T-shirt then the pants. She cinched the belt tight and rolled up the cuffs. When she’d finished, she faced Roman and noted the backpack in one hand and the socks in the other.

  “They’re wet, but clean.” He handed her the socks. “And they’ll protect your feet.”

  Roman’s gaze followed her eyes to the daypack. “I tossed ours when I followed you down the river. Our food supply now consists of unidentifiable meat and crackers.”

  Kate gave a brief nod and tied her T-shirt above the pants before donning the shoes and socks. Kate grimaced against the sogginess that cocooned her feet but didn’t allow herself to dwell on her discomfort. After tearing a strip of cloth from her shorts, she quickly finger-combed her hair and tied it back in a ponytail.

  “Ready.” She puffed out the words, her arms trembling from the exertion.

  Roman shot her a penetrating glare. “Not quite. Eat these.”

  He handed her some of the meat and crackers. Resisting the urge to sniff the brown lump of food, she placed some in her mouth and chewed.

  “Are you up to walking, or do you want me to carry you?”

  She looked up at the flat trail before swallowing. “I can manage.” But she didn’t offer to carry anything as Roman stuffed her damp clothes into the pack. Something she was sure didn’t escape his notice.

  She knew better than to complain about the fare, but the food sat heavy in her stomach while she waited for Roman to cover their tracks. When he finished, he pulled his shirt on and slung the daypack over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  It wasn’t until later that Kate realized two things. She hadn’t heard any dogs, and she hadn’t experienced a panic attack by the river.

  Things were definitely looking up.

  PHOENIX DESPISED WAITING. That’s why, when she had climbed from the helicopter to the yacht and was told to remain in the salon until Nigel had completed his massage session, she’d ignored the servant and made her way to the exterior circular staircase that led to the forward deck.

  When Nigel had first propositioned her about working for him, she’d jumped at the chance. Weeks of research had left her with information compiled of rumor and unconfirmed reports on Nigel Threader, but she’d been left with one indisputable fact. The money was real. The man was richer than Midas—and more diverse. Phoenix smiled. Her boss could give the Rockefellers a lesson or two in financing a empire.

  As she approached the swimming pool, her stiletto heels clicked against the deck with the reverberation of an automatic weapon. The pool, shaped like an open scroll, wasn’t nearly as impressive as the opulence surrounding it. The yacht, over four hundred feet in length, was like stepping into a Greek bath.

  She glanced around, spotting Nigel almost immediately on the far side, fully exposed to the sun. Classical Greek columns draped in ivy surrounded the vicinity. After stepping around a brocade chaise lounge, Phoenix made her way among the statues that decorated the deck.

  Many were nudes with missing limbs, but some depicted woman draped in togas playing lyres or holding grapes. Phoenix’s gaze skimmed over the potted palm trees and huge, painted urns only to halt at the center of the pool. Set in its curve stood a fountain of nymphs. Water flowed from their hands, lips and vases into the pool.

  To the side, Nigel lay prone on a massage table while a servant stood above fanning him.

  “Where are you holding them, Nigel?”

  With a sigh, Nigel swung himself off the table. His lean, well-muscled body, clad in white trunks, moved with the easy grace of a lion. Her mouth twisted, well aware of the awe he inspired in the peasants as El León.

  “And how are you, my dear?” He settled himself onto a deck lounger and reached for his drink.

  She ignored the pleasantry and stepped closer, allowing her shadow to fall across his legs. “Are they in the torture room?”

  She knew Nigel sometimes entertained undesirable guests in the boat’s gymnasium. The screams tended to carry over the water, but none of the villagers could hear them with the ship offshore five miles.

  He hesitated over the tea, the glass rim scarcely touching his bottom lip. “Have a seat, Phoenix, you’re blocking my light,” he said with a deceptively soft tone. Immediately the shadow disappeared, allowing the sun to touch his dark legs.

  Biting back the retort that wavered on her tongue and discreetly sliding into a nearby lounger, she caught the palm waver’s eye and gestured toward the bar. “I’ll have a martini. Straight up. No olives.”

  The servant deferred to Threader, waiting for an affirming nod before complying.

  Her lips tightened with annoyance. “Where is Cerberus?”

  “Still grappling amongst the trees, I imagine,” he said calmly.

  “You haven’t captured them yet?”

  “I won’t be questioned, Phoenix. Things are going as planned, that’s all you need to know.”

  The weather had been unusually warm this year and at eleven o’clock, the temperature had reached well into the nineties. What little breeze the ocean provided barely stirred the heavy weight of her hair. Impatiently Phoenix snatched up the caramel tresses and draped them over the back of her lounger.

  Setting his drink on the table, Threader eyed the unnaturally coarse streaks of blond striping the thick mane. “Nice look.” His gaze flickered over her features. “It compliments the surgeon’s work.”

  Not waiting for an answer, he continued. “I told Miguel to take you into the salon where you’d be more comfortable. I don’t like to be disobeyed.” His dark, Armani glasses made it impossible for Phoenix to read his eyes.

  “I have an appointment with our Cuban friends in a few hours. They’re excited about the new merchandise we’ve promised. I didn’t want to keep them waiting.” She accepted her drink from the servant.

  “The
Cubans will wait if I tell them to.”

  Phoenix didn’t bother to argue. Silk clung to her back as she shifted. If she perspired much more, the delicate, sleeveless Bob Mackey blouse would be ruined. It didn’t matter that she could buy fifty of the damn things. She hadn’t brought a change of clothes, intending to leave the ship as soon as possible. She paused over the first button. “Do you mind, doll?”

  With a wave of Nigel’s hand, she undid the buttons. After shrugging the shirt off, she hung it from the back of the chair. “Much better.” With a wry smile, Phoenix noticed that the servant didn’t even falter at the sight of her nakedness.

  At Nigel’s raised eyebrow, her smile increased to a laugh. “It’s too hot to wear an overabundance of clothing.”

  To emphasize her point, she also removed her black miniskirt and reclined on the lounger, wearing only her black thong and designer sunglasses.

  “What information do you have for me today, my dear?” Nigel leaned back once again, a faint smile lingering on his otherwise serene face.

  “Cain, against orders, is in the mountains searching for D’Amato and the sister. Mercer wasn’t happy with him, but the old man knows better than to argue too much. As I told you before, he’s grooming Cain for the head position at Labyrinth.”

  “Yes, you commented on that some time ago.”

  Phoenix contained a smirk. “My sources say after an argument with Mercer, he walked out the door. Said he was going on personal leave.” She turned her head toward the sun and closed her eyes. “And no one’s heard from him since.”

  “You’re certain Cain’s on their trail?”

  The question irritated her. “My sources don’t fail me.”

  “No, they don’t. They only repeat their information.”

  At her indignant intake of breath, he continued. “This is old news, Phoenix. We already assumed Cain would go after his sister once he returned from his mission. In fact, I’d anticipated it.”

  “Did you anticipate Ian MacAlister joining him?” As Phoenix watched her boss from over the rim of her sunglasses, she didn’t stop the impudence from rolling out with the information.

  Nigel’s head jerked in her direction. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes,” she snapped, not liking the disbelief in his voice. “It seems the SEAL has taken an emergency leave of absence. You put it together.”

  “Sounds like Prometheus pulled in some favors.” Nigel leaned back, his hands steepled on his chest, his brow wrinkled thoughtfully. “They’re making this almost too easy for me, aren’t they?”

  “Their deaths will certainly weaken the inner structure of Labyrinth.”

  He snorted derisively. “Oh, I’m not going to kill them.”

  Phoenix sat up. “What the hell do you mean? That was our agreement.”

  With a sweep of his hand, Nigel removed his own sunglasses, his blue eyes turning glacial. The crescent shaped scar pulled at his eye, making his anger seem more demonic. Realizing she’d just made a tactical error, Phoenix forced herself to relax against the cushions.

  Nodding at her obvious compliance, Nigel continued. “Cerberus is the only one who will die. Not because of some promise I made to you—” the tip of his forefinger flicked over the disfigurement “—but because of a promise I made to myself.”

  Phoenix’s gaze rested on the scar once again. She knew Nigel’s disfigurement had something to do with Cerberus. How, she didn’t know, nor did she care. Just as long as Cerberus died.

  Nigel settled himself and closed his eyes. “My fiancée would be extremely vexed if I killed her brothers, especially with our wedding imminent.”

  “Your fiancée?”

  Nigel ignored her question, obviously lost in thought. “More importantly, it doesn’t suit my purposes. Who better to have as a brother-in-law than the leader of the most elite covert unit in the country? And from what you say about young Ian, the boy will be a general someday. Then there’s MacAlister Industries to consider.” He tapped his teeth with his fingertips. “No, it’s much more beneficial to become part of this family.”

  “Quentin MacAlister is a powerful man. You’re insane to think he will bend to you.”

  Before Phoenix could react, Nigel had grabbed her arm, forcing the elbow backward against the side of the lounge chair. Sharp blades of pain sliced up to her shoulder. All he had to do was apply a little more pressure and her elbow would snap.

  “I must caution you, my dear.” He tugged on her arm, eliciting a small gasp of pain. “To choose your next words wisely.”

  Nigel’s unblinking stare met hers for a long moment before he loosened his grip and slowly ran his palm up her arm almost as if he regretted marring her skin.

  Forcing herself to remain calm, she said casually, “What I meant, doll—is that having the sister wouldn’t necessarily guarantee the family’s obedience.”

  He placed his Armani glasses back over his eyes as the corners of his mouth lifted into an evil smile. “Then we’ll have to persuade them otherwise. Won’t we?”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Wake up, Doc.”

  A hand shook her shoulder, and Kate automatically turned away. The scent of damp earth filled her nostrils. With an effort she fought off the heavy stupor of sleep and forced her eyes to focus.

  “I thought you might prefer a shower before we eat.”

  Sitting took two attempts. Every muscle in her body seemed to scream in protest. She tried stretching out the soreness while she took in her surroundings. Where was she?

  “It’s an abandoned mining tunnel.” His answer startled her. She hadn’t realized she’d spoken the question aloud. But her reaction went unnoticed as Roman crouched to tend a small fire.

  Even though they were several feet from the entrance, Kate could tell the sun hadn’t quite set. The wind howled against the aged wooden beams and the air was thick with moisture. She strained her ears until she heard a faint pattering. “Rain.”

  Roman gave a quick nod. “Just started. I got a good look at the clouds while I was gathering wood. Within an hour it’ll be quite a rain storm. But no signs of lightning, so we should be safe.”

  Kate understood. Lightning and old mining tunnels didn’t mix well. A shiver danced down her back, so she scooted closer to the fire. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “About four hours.” He shot her a brief glance, probably to ascertain she was okay, before skewering a small carcass with a whittled stick. “You fell asleep against me when we stopped to rest. Initially, I was looking for a cave or a crevice.” He double-checked the meat to make sure it was secure. “But this will do.”

  He must have carried her. The act shouldn’t surprise her, but it did. She took a long look at Roman. The words earthy and rugged tugged at her. When a piece of hair fell against his forehead, she had to fight the urge to brush it back.

  “Thank you,” she said, knowing she’d put them both at risk. Carrying her had not allowed him to keep his hands free.

  “Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t seen the trail we’re taking out of here. I might have to blindfold you.”

  Kate shuddered inwardly at the thought, but said, “It doesn’t matter. What you did—what you’re doing, I appreciate it.”

  The lifting of his shoulder told her he considered the gesture unimportant, as if he’d just escorted her across a street.

  All in a day’s work for a hero.

  She let it go. “Is that dinner?”

  “Yeah.” He placed the meat across the fire. “I came across a rabbit scurrying for cover from the rain. I got lucky with my knife.”

  Kate doubted if luck had anything to with it. Still the idea of something warm and filling in her stomach started her mouth watering. An overwhelming feeling of homesickness seized her.

  “Where are we, Cerberus?” Irritation at her weakness tainted her voice.

  He smiled and for the first time didn’t take offense at the name. “We’re about a half-day hike from Cedar. A town northwest of here.�
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  Kate knew of the town through several of her father’s business acquaintances. Smaller than the elite Vail or Aspen, Cedar still received its fair share of summer tourists. With the Rushing Fork River only a few miles away, the town was an offbeat location for rafting enthusiasts and mountain climbers. Those who weren’t into outdoor recreation still enjoyed the ambiance of the small mountain town with its little shops all whitewashed and rustic.

  “They have a small airport there where we can appropriate a plane and get you the hell away to somewhere secure.”

  She didn’t ask him to define the term appropriate. Instead, she stood, taking a moment to adjust her none-too-steady footing. If what he said was true, she should be safe by tomorrow night.

  And he would be gone.

  Rocking on her heels, she tested her balance. Relief flooded her as the strength poured back into her legs. She lifted her hands high above her head and arched her back, hoping to loosen the last of her kinked muscles.

  Roman, once assured she was safe, would go after Threader. Avenging her. No, not her. Amanda. Slowly she brought her arms down. The possibility of him not coming back alive loomed before her.

  “So how ’bout it? Do you want to bathe before we eat?”

  “Very much,” she responded with a smile, allowing the thought of being clean to push her worries away—for the present.

  “I found hidden treasure.” He tossed her a package from the backpack.

  “Soap.” Kate almost squealed with delight, clasping the small bar tightly in her hands. The rough texture told her it was handmade, but Kate didn’t care. As far as she was concerned, in her hands lay a little piece of heaven.

  She looked up to thank Roman and instantly saw the flare of awareness in his eyes. After a few moments Kate remembered to exhale.

  “It’s raining hard enough to cause water to gush from a crevice not too far from the mine’s opening.” His slow drawl sent a low thrum racing in her blood. “It’s like taking a shower.”

  She pictured him nearby while she bathed and desire hit her with the impact of a nuclear blast.