Fatal Thrill

by Misty Evans

  The Pit Bull/Labrador mix was as smart as Jon, even though she looked as goofy as Bells with one ear permanently standing straight up and the other lying down. Her offset jaw gave the impression she was always smirking.

  Below, the two kidnappers inside the hut had no idea they were being watched. The third had left fifteen minutes ago on a beer run.

  At least Jon hoped the assholes inside still didn’t realize that his group of paramilitary commandoes—all former SEALs like himself—were about to unload the wrath of God on them.

  With as few movements as possible, he scooted backward on his belly, reaching for the phone buried in the pocket of his fatigues. He knew the ringtone since the woman calling had picked it out herself. The singer, Cher, had a unique voice and was belting out, “Gyp-sies, tramps, and thieves…”

  “Fucking piece of shit,” he murmured, finally getting the thing to silence. “Rory has got to fix this.”

  Nyx wagged her tail, sniffing at the phone. How could a dog recognize a blip of a song and know who it was related to?

  Jaya knew nothing about the dog or Jon’s search and rescue background—another secret he’d kept from her. But Nyx recognized the ringtone since, during the holidays when Jon was working on Nyx’s training, Jaya would text him. Nyx had picked up on the happiness Jon felt every time he heard Jaya’s voice. It pulled him out of the numbing depression he battled every day.

  “What was that?” Trace Hunter’s voice came through Jon’s earbud. The man was stationed down the hill surveilling the rear of the hut. “Did I just hear music?”

  “My new phone is malfunctioning,” Jon murmured to the super soldier. Hunter had undergone “enhancements” while in Project 24, a secret, unsanctioned experiment that had improved his hearing as well as pretty much everything else about him. Project 24 was no longer around, but Hunter was every inch Captain America, only he didn’t need the shield. “Hold position.”

  This was Jon’s mission. Beatrice had specifically requested him because of his experience in tracking people. The kidnappers had grown up in these parts and knew the terrain like the back of their hands, but that made them sloppy. Jon and Nyx had picked up their trail less than forty-five minutes earlier and followed it here without problem. Cartel members weren’t known for their smarts or stealth.

  Checking the text from Jaya, he clenched his teeth to keep a smile from tickling the corner of his mouth.

  How’s the bodyguard gig?

  He hated lying to her, but that was his life—a never-ending lie. The missions he did for Shadow Force were top-secret. Even the bodyguard gigs for Rock Star, the cover company for SFI, were confidential and often covert. The security arm specialized in top-notch protection detail for very elite clientele. SFI did the same, but missions involved everything from stopping terrorist attacks to bringing Americans home from situations like this one.

  Watching the show, Jaya’s text continued, but haven’t spotted you yet.

  She’d followed that with a smiley emoticon.

  That was Jaya—always upbeat and happy, wanting him to be too.

  Hard as shit when he suffered from PTSD and a few other issues that had worn him to the bone. One of the reasons it was entirely impossible to allow himself to get involved with anyone. He was a basket case from the word go when he wasn’t in the field. He needed his work with SFI or the depression would kill him.

  And he couldn’t share this work with Jaya or anyone else. Not even his mom.

  His fingers had a mind of their own, though, and he thumbed a text back.

  I’m a shadow in the wind. You’ll never spot me.

  And God help him, he returned the smiley face.

  Jaya made him that way—a little buoyant, a touch lighthearted. Two things he’d never experienced in his entire life except with her. She was the one thing in his world, besides his job, that kept the depression and bleakness from swamping him.

  The depression had reared its ugly head big time after he’d been shot in Good Hope last fall, but Jaya had kept him from falling into the blue funk completely, refusing to leave him alone for nearly a month. She’d literally been the angel on his shoulder that made him wake up every morning with a smile on his face rather than wanting to blow his head off.

  “Please tell me that’s not The Wicked Witch of Good Hope,” Bells sneered from under his floppy hat. The sniper held a mean looking precision-guided smart rifle with a scope, all of which was skillfully camouflaged. The rifle was like a computer—full color display and a sophisticated monitoring system with constant readouts of wind speed, direction, target distance, gravity, and even the rotation of the earth. All that data, plus video of everything Bells saw through the scope, was currently pinging off a satellite and showing up on Beatrice and Rory’s tablets back in DC, where they could watch and give advice. So far, both had been quiet, a testament to their trust and belief in Jon and his abilities.

  Bells had married Jaya’s best friend, Shelby, not once, but twice. The man claimed to have little use for Jaya and her over-the-top approach to life, but Jon knew underneath all the sniping that the two actually liked each other.

  Jon wanted to wait to see if Jaya replied even though he needed to shut off the phone. He was head of this mission and here he was, acting like a teenager with a crush, holding his breath to see if she responded with another smiley face.

  So screwed. “She thinks I’m in New York City at that fundraiser playing bodyguard.” He powered down the phone and shoved it back in his pocket. In his mind, he saw her smiling, beckoning at him from his bed, her long, tan legs spread wide, arms waiting to hold him. “I hate lying to her all the time.”

  “Comes with the job,” Bells said, no stranger to the art of secrecy, and then he frowned. “Wait. You and her… You’re not serious, are you?” He shook with an exaggerated shudder.

  Hell, yes, I’m serious. If he’d been smart, he would have never let her go back to Good Hope before Christmas, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have left her on New Year’s Eve. Thing was, Jaya had a successful spa to run and plans for a big future selling her skincare line across the US. If her amazing skin was any testament to her products, she’d easily take over the world before she hit thirty. “She makes me feel like…”

  “Like what?” Colton grunted.

  “You know that feeling when you’re on a HALO and you’re free-falling, right before you’ve got to pull your ’chute? That thrill of flying and falling, and not knowing one hundred percent for sure it will open?” His pulse surged just thinking about it. “That’s the feeling I get every time I see her.”

  Colton’s strained silence said it all—he thought Jon was nuts.

  “Doesn’t matter.” Jon gritted his teeth. “Me and relationships…you know.”

  He didn’t need to elaborate. Bells got it. Colton and Shelby had worked things out, but she was FBI to her bones and understood the code of warriors and soldiers. She couldn’t discuss her cases with Colton, and accepted he couldn’t and wouldn’t talk about his missions with her.

  “Relationships are challenging, but not impossible,” Hunter chimed in.

  Jon resumed his spot near Bells and Nyx, watching the hut through his night-vision binoculars. “Says the guy getting married in a few days. Is there anything you’re not good at?”

  “Macrame,” Hunter answered without missing a beat and with total sincerity. “My grandmother tried to teach me when I was a kid, but my plant hangers always turned into balls of yarn that looked like alien spaceships.”

  Jon canted a glance at Colton. Bells just shook his head.

  I’m thirty years old and the only woman I’ve ever felt this way about is out of reach. Jaya deserved someone solid, respectable, and supportive. Not someone who hid in the shadows and could never tell her about his job, his life. A man who fought depression on a regular basis and was covered with scars inside and out. She needed someone by her side she could be proud of, who could walk into any party with her and not receive looks of fea
r or disgust. Not only did Jon have issues, as soon as anyone found out who his dad was, it was game over.

  “I’ve got movement.” Hunter’s voice, now serious, dropped a notch. “One tango emerging from back door, lighting a cigarette.”

  In his mind, Jon saw Hunter tightening his hold on his smart rifle, body tensing ever so slightly, ready to go. Next to Jon, the air around Bells changed too, kicking up a degree.

  It was time to shift this mission into high gear. “I’ll entice the second one to come out front,” Jon said. He looked at Bells. “As soon as Tango Two emerges, you’re on.”

  “Copy that,” both Hunter and Bells said at the same time. Hunter would take out the backdoor kidnapper, Bells the front.

  It was time for Jon to leave his hiding spot. Producing a set of firecrackers from his vest, he headed for the bottom of the hill to start the distraction party. They would make just enough unusual noise to bring the second kidnapper out to see what was going on.

  By his calculations, they’d have this wrapped up and be back in the States by 0400 hours. Beatrice would expect his full report once he’d had a shower. He prayed she’d have another job to keep his mind off the fact he had no chance with Jaya. No chance at true happiness. His long, lonely life stretched out in front of him. Numbness, no hope…

  Pushing the depressing thoughts aside, he gave Nyx the command to stay with Bells, then snuck down the hill to take his place at the bottom of the hill.

  He gave Hunter and Bells the signal, then set off the fireworks.

  2

  Decision made, Jaya stood in the shadows of the building with the conservative sign that read Rock Star Security in fancy gold letters above the double glass doors. Shivering in her cruelty-free, fake leather boots and winter coat, she checked the time on her phone again. Six a.m.

  She hadn’t heard another peep from Jon since his text before midnight saying he was a shadow in the wind, and she was ready for some answers.

  She was also ten hours into sleep deprivation, and swaying slightly on her feet, but damn it, she couldn’t stop the freight train now.

  The building wasn’t completely dark, but the headquarters of the exclusive, high-tech security company sat behind mirrored windows, locked doors, and nearly invisible cameras. She’d made a trip to the back entrance, finding the same setup there. The lone visible light on the second floor suggested someone was either an early riser or had worked all night, but no one answered her knocks or yells. There was no way in unless you were invited.

  Jaya was about to get herself an invitation.

  The black SUV was a sleek monster, sliding up to the curb. The woman who emerged from the backseat wore a beautiful, red flyaway coat with a faux fur trimmed hood. The heels of her boots were at least four inches and her blond hair was professionally straightened and had a high shine, probably from a coating of Moroccan oil.

  Beatrice. Jon’s boss.

  She straightened her coat under the glow of a streetlight. The sun was just starting to say hello in the east and a few cars dotted the street, other early risers on their way to work.

  The driver rushed around to the passenger side, seeming frustrated that his charge had not waited for him to open her door. This was Beatrice’s husband, Cal, another former SEAL who helped run the company. “Let me help you,” he said.

  Beatrice was already reaching for something on the seat. Jaya expected a briefcase or tote bag to materialize, and was surprised to see…

  A car seat?

  “I’ve got her,” the woman said, smiling down at what looked like nothing more than a pile of blankets but obviously held a baby. “Could you grab my briefcase?”

  Cal, a big, strapping guy with a serious case of the frownies, hurriedly reached in and produced a vintage Louis Vuitton bag, placing the strap over the woman’s shoulder. “Let’s get you two inside.”

  As he accompanied his wife, a soothing female voice suddenly spoke from overhead. “Good morning, B, and Miss Sloane.”

  It was computerized, Jaya thought, coming from a hidden speaker. Either that, or the person manning the reception area had exceptional vocal quality.

  “Good morning, Vesper,” Beatrice returned to the faceless voice.

  Vesper? The only time Jaya had heard that as a name was for Vesper Lind, the James Bond character in Casino Royale.

  The glass doors swung open with a swish and Jaya took a deep breath and stepped out of the shadows. “Ms. Reese?”

  Instantly, Cal went into bodyguard mode, stepping in front of Beatrice and their child, producing a mean-looking black gun.

  Which he pointed at Jaya’s face. “Stop right there.”

  Jaya was no stranger to guns, unfortunately, but didn’t care for them being pointed at her. Annoyed, but not stupid, she raised her frozen, mittened hands to show she had no weapons, and said, “Take it easy there, Boba Fett. I’m looking for Jon Wolfe, not a fight.”

  “Put that thing away, Cal,” Beatrice said, putting a hand on his arm and forcing him to lower the weapon. “This is Jaya Hotti O’Sullivan. She’s not a threat.”

  “You know who I am?” Jaya said.

  Beatrice gently pulled Cal beside her. “Sensors picked up your presence an hour ago and sent me your bio, Ms. O’Sullivan. I know who you are, and I’m sorry, but Mr. Wolfe is out of the country at this time. I’ll let him know you inquired after him.”

  She turned to go and Jaya took a step closer. “Wait.” Her best friend, Shelby, had told Jaya all about Beatrice Reese. She was tough but fair, and she protected her security team the same way she did her young daughter—with the fierceness of a momma lion. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t an emergency. I need to talk to Jon as soon as possible, and I haven’t been able to reach him since last night.”

  Beatrice stopped in the open doorway and eyed Jaya. “What kind of emergency?”

  Jaya shifted her weight from one cold foot to another, stomping a little to try and get the blood flowing in her frozen toes. “It’s a private matter. I’d rather not say.”

  Beatrice was unmoved. Maybe she’d heard similar lines before. “As I stated, I’ll let Jon know you need to speak with him.”

  “Please, ma’am. I—”

  “Can we take this inside?” Cal said. “Sloane’s getting cold.”

  Beatrice took a deep breath, seeming to debate whether she wanted to let Jaya in or not, but finally gave her consent with a nod. “You may come in.”

  Thank you, Cal Reese.

  The foyer was warm and Jaya smelled coffee. For a moment, the scent was amazing, and then her stomach flipped like a kid on a trampoline, and she had to cover her nose. She tugged off her mittens and waited for Beatrice to set down the car seat and unveil Sloane’s face. A beautiful baby girl with big blue eyes like her mother caught on Jaya’s face and she smiled. Her hands waved in the air and she said something in baby-speak that Jaya didn’t understand.

  Holy shit. That could be me in nine months…

  Her hand instinctively went to her belly and she squeaked, “Restroom?”

  Beatrice narrowed her eyes ever so slightly before she pointed to the left. “Down the hall, first door on the right.”

  Jaya was already sprinting across the tiled floor, boots squeaking.

  Inside the posh restroom, her stomach relented after a moment, cutting her some slack. Jaya gripped the edge of the sink and took a couple steadying breaths before totally trusting that she wasn’t going to lose the crackers she’d nibbled on all the way to DC. In the mirror, her face was flushed, the concealer under her eyes tear-streaked.

  Damn it. Here she was, approaching Jon’s boss—the executive director of a billion dollar security firm—looking like the tramp she’d been labeled by so many in her hometown since she was a child.

  Get a grip. Who cared what she looked liked? Right now, she had bigger things to worry about.

  Using her fingers to fluff her hair and a pinkie finger to redistribute the concealer, she pinched her lips together to
bring some color to the surface and squared her shoulders. She needed to befriend Beatrice and figure out a way to get Jon back to DC without exposing her secret. No way was she telling Beatrice her suspicions before she told the baby’s father.

  But she needed to know how soon he’d be back. The sooner the better, because she desperately needed to know if it was yes or no on the baby front, and she wasn’t peeing on the stick in her bag until Jon was with her to receive the news—positive or negative—with her.

  They’d jumped into this together and they damn well would find out the results the same way.

  Nodding at her reflection, Jaya left the swanky restroom, hoping Beatrice hadn’t given up already and disappeared into the bowels of the building.

  She found her near a reception desk, the baby in her arms and Cal no longer around. Behind the desk sat a familiar face—Connor McKenzie. One of the guys who’d helped Shelby and Colton hunt down the serial killer in Good Hope.

  He smiled at Jaya as Sloane reached for him, baby gibberish again spilling from her lips. He tickled Sloane’s chin, making her laugh. “I didn’t realize you were still in town, Jaya.”

  “I wasn’t… I had to come back.”

  “Ms. O’Sullivan will be joining me in my office,” Beatrice told Connor, shifting Sloane to her other hip. “Hold my calls unless they’re from Nickleback.”

  Connor winked at Jaya and ruffled Sloane’s hair. “Yes, ma’am.”

  As Beatrice strode for the elevators down the hall, Jaya leaned close to the desk, eyeing the video monitors that showed all the access points. “You were sitting here the whole time I was freezing my ass off outside?”

  Connor had the decency to look ashamed. “Sorry, office policy. No one comes in without prior approval from B.”

  “Do you know where Jon is?”

  “Ms. O’Sullivan?” Beatrice called. “If you wish to remain my guest, I suggest you follow me.”