“Lissa? Are you here? It’s me. Max.”
Silence. He cleared the place anyway, hoping against hope that she was too scared to identify herself to him.
“Not here,” he reported.
“Movement,” Bastien breathed from below. Max raced on silent feet for the door, easing it open a crack to see outside. The SEAL would be frozen beneath him in the deep shadows cast by the iron staircase. He did the same in the doorway, peering out through the low-light feature of his gun sight. The alleyway leaped into lime-green relief.
A man came around the corner, a weapon similar to Max’s held to his eye in a firing position. The barrel of the weapon swung left and right as the guy cleared the alley. The hostile must have spotted Bastien, for all of a sudden, the barrel swung hard right.
Two spits of noise and a brief flash of light announced that Bastien had fired at the guy. Hell of a good sound suppressor his friend had on his weapon. The hostile dropped to the ground.
Max raced outside and down the stairs, his assault rifle swinging in an arc in front of him.
“Behind those trash cans.” Bastien’s rifle barrel pointed at a stack of rusty trash cans.
Max advanced slowly. He spotted a bright green figure crouched in between several of the cans. Too small for a typical hired mercenary. No sign of weapons in the silhouette. A homeless person, maybe?
He moved around the end of the barrels, prepared for anything. Except the sight that greeted him. Lissa. Curled in a little ball, hugging her knees. She didn’t even seem aware of his presence.
“Lissa,” he murmured as he knelt down beside her. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head, her curls wild around her face, her eyes staring at something invisible to him. He held his arms out to her carefully. She looked like a feral creature that would bolt at the first sign of a grab at her.
She did bolt, but forward, directly into his arms. He pulled her against him, absorbing her trembling as he held on to her fiercely. “I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe now.”
“Um, not exactly,” Bastien responded in his ear. “There are more hostiles out here. We need to get her out of here.”
“Upstairs to the blind?” Max suggested.
“For now. I’ll come around in my truck and pick you two up. If you’re right about who’s trying to kill her, we’ve got to get her out of town and call ourselves in some cavalry.”
Max led Lissa up the stairs. She went without resistance and without saying a word. Which worried him.
He eased the door shut and turned to face her. She was soaking wet and her hair hung in black spirals around her face. “Talk to me, Lissa.”
“They came for me. Cloaked in death.”
“But you ran. You got away from them. And now I’m here. Bastien and I will keep you safe.”
“A face. I saw a man. And then the screaming...” She trailed off, her face screwed up against some inner pain that looked like too much for her to bear.
He felt so damned helpless. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was in the middle of some sort of psychotic break with reality. But he did know better. The visions had her in their grip and weren’t letting go.
“Lissa, I need you to come back to me. In a few minutes, you and I are going to leave here. I’ll need you to follow my instructions. Can you push the visions back?”
She looked up at him as if searching for the sound of his voice.
“I’m right here.”
Her gaze lost its momentary clarity.
Dammit. He swept her into his arms and kissed her. Her lips were ice-cold; her entire body shivered against his. But he ignored all that, focusing on the woman he loved. In spite of his desperation, he forced himself to be gentle with her, to coax her mouth open rather than forcing it.
As soon as her lips parted on a little gasp, as if she’d just registered being kissed by him, his tongue swept into her mouth, demanding her attention and her response. All of a sudden, she unfroze. She surged against him, her arms going around his neck, her lithe body moving sinuously against his. And she was kissing him back, inhaling his heat and strength as if she couldn’t get enough of him.
“Welcome back,” he murmured against her lips.
“Never let me go,” she gasped.
“Never.” At least not metaphorically. Not until she made him. And maybe not even then. He’d lost her once. He didn’t intend to lose her again.
The kiss threatened to become naked, sweaty sex as her hands thrust under his vest and shirt to his bare flesh. But when she reached for his belt buckle, he reluctantly had to let her go and reach for her fingers. “Hold that thought, darling. First we have to get you out of town.”
“Out of town?” she echoed, lifting her head to stare up at him in the dark.
“Those men who came for you after you found the camera. They won’t stop until they find you. We have to get you someplace safe until we sort this out.”
Bastien spoke up just then. “I’m en route to your position. I’ll be there in sixty seconds.”
“We’re ready to move,” Max replied. He led her over to the door and spoke quickly while she was still lucid. “We’re going to run down the steps and jump into Bastien’s truck. I’ll go first, and I need you to stay right on my heels, so close you think you might trip me. Can you do that?”
“Of course.”
He grinned down at her. There she was. His fireball was back. “On my mark. Three. Two. One.” He twisted the doorknob and leaped out the door. “Go.”
The maneuver went exactly as planned except for the man who raced around the corner at the far end of the alley, no doubt drawn by the sound of Bastien’s truck.
Max took aim and double-tapped two rounds into the running man’s torso. The guy staggered but didn’t go down. Must be wearing a bullet-resistant vest, too, dammit. The guy’s gun swung up into firing position as Max took aim again, this time at his head. Two quick squeezes of his right index finger and the hostile was down. This time for good.
“Ohmigod,” Lissa cried from behind him.
Max reached the bottom of the stairs and threw open the truck door. She dived in and he lunged in after her. Bastien turned hard, rolling him on top of Lissa. From his prone position, Max awkwardly reached for the handle and yanked the door shut.
The truck straightened and flew down the street as he sat upright. Lissa started to do the same, but he barked, “Stay down, baby.” He stroked her wet hair back from her face to soften the harshness of his instruction.
Bastien drove like a man possessed, and Max recognized the tactic. The SEAL was checking to see if anyone was attempting to follow them. Max watched out the rear window tensely, but no other vehicle behind them was driving like a bat out of hell. The truck accelerated and cornered about as aggressively as Lola.
“What have you got under the hood of this beast?” Max asked.
“A few little modifications out of my bag of magic tricks,” the Cajun answered, grinning as he threw the vehicle around a corner and shot forward.
“You got a well-armed cavalry in that bag of tricks, too?”
“I just might, bro.”
Lord, he hoped so. They were going to need a miracle to survive a professional hit team. And he ought to know.
Bastien shot up a ramp onto a highway before taking his foot off the accelerator and slowing to normal speed. “You can sit up now,” the former SEAL announced to Lissa.
“What was all of that swerving around and tire screeching about?” she demanded.
“It’s called offensive driving,” Bastien replied casually.
“Offensive, indeed,” she muttered. “I feel bruised from head to foot. And cold.”
Max held an arm out to her. “Can I interest you in some free body heat?”
She waste
d no time cuddling up against him.
“What happened after I left you?” Max asked her. “Walk me through it.”
“Umm, I cried for a while. And then I had this—” She broke off and glanced at Bastien warily.
Sensing where she wanted to go with the conversation, Max told her, “You can speak freely in front of him. Not only is he a Cajun and superstitious—he also knows how to keep his mouth shut.”
She nodded resolutely. “I had a vision.”
Bastien’s head swung toward her sharply, but he didn’t comment. Max said encouragingly, “Tell me about it.”
“First, I went looking for a focus item. I could tell it was going to be a big vision, and I wanted help capturing it. The spirit led me to an old doll that belonged to Aunt Callista. I took it out of the case and carried it to the middle of the shop.”
“And then?” he prompted when she ground to a halt.
She continued reluctantly. “Normally, I would see where a body is or get a flash of memory of the spirit’s death. But not tonight. I got this whole flood of old images. They came from a girl’s childhood and then jumped to when she became a young woman.”
“Do you know the girl?”
She shook her head. “I’ve seen her before. At the Menchekov mansion.”
“When were you there?” Bastion demanded. “We’ve been trying to nail that guy for years.”
“Remind me to give you my file on him. It’ll put him away for life,” Max replied absently. Then to Lissa, “The red-haired girl you told me about the night of the party?”
“Yes.”
“Go on.”
“I saw a young man. Handsome. A little older than her. And no sooner had I seen his face than this horrible, piercing scream exploded in my head.”
Something eager leaped in Max’s gut. Was this the face? Had she spotted the man he’d been looking for all this time?
She continued, “I dropped the doll. It hit the floor and broke, and one of the surveillance cameras fell out. It was looking right up at me, and a little red light was blinking on its side. I panicked and stepped on it.” Lissa took a deep breath, and he squeezed her gently with a steadying arm. “I felt them coming, Max. I hit the panic button on the alarm, and then I ran.”
He expected her to stop there, but she didn’t.
“There were so many ghosts on the street. They were walking through each other. It was awful. This town is so freaking haunted.”
Bastien chuckled at that.
“So you ducked into the alley and hid until we found you. Did you see any of the men chasing you?” Max asked.
“No. I asked the ghosts to lead them away from me. I don’t know if they did or not, but no one came into that alley until you guys.”
“How long you been seein’ ghosts, chère?” Bastien asked, his Cajun accent thick enough to cut with a knife.
“I only started seeing them tonight. But I’ve been hearing them all my life,” she replied cautiously. “Do you think I’m crazy?”
“Nah. My grand-mère talked to de spirits all de time. She knew stuff, she did.”
They fell silent after that as Bastien guided the truck out of Orleans Parish and deep into bayou country. Lissa dozed while Max kept an eye out behind them for tails. It appeared they’d made a clean getaway from the city and the armed men roaming it.
Bastien asked quietly, “Does she really have the gift?”
“If you’re referring to psychic abilities, all the evidence I’ve seen says that she does.”
“You okay with that?”
That was, indeed, the question of the hour. “Where are we going?”
“To my people. You two will be safe with them while you figure out what to do next.”
“I dunno. The guy she pissed off has a pretty long reach.”
Bastien shrugged. “My people are better. I guarantee it.”
Max was inclined to believe him.
They drove a while more in silence, and then Bastien asked in full police officer mode, “Who were those men back in the Quarter?”
“They work for the head of the Louisiana Bratya.”
“How’d she get tangled up with that bunch?”
“You’re aware that I’ve been infiltrating a criminal organization for the past couple of years, right?”
“Yeah, Max. And you’ve given us some good busts out of it.”
“It’s the Bratya I’ve been infiltrating.”
“Day-umm, boy. They’re a nasty bunch.”
“Yes. They are. And I think they’re even nastier than anyone in law enforcement realizes. I’m convinced that the leader of the entire outfit is a Russian spy using the mob to finance his espionage activities.”
Bastien swore. “You got proof?”
“I’m getting there.”
“What have you got so far?”
He considered the man beside him. A former navy SEAL, Bastien had helped his sister and her fiancé out of a bad jam, discovering who Max was in the process. And in the ensuing year, the guy hadn’t breathed a word of Max’s covert activities to a soul. If he was going to trust anyone, this man was the one he would choose.
“My father was a Russian spy.”
The truck swerved slightly, then righted itself.
Max continued grimly. “The US government is aware of this. They are also aware that he attempted to recruit me to follow in his footsteps.”
“Dude, you talkin’ classified stuff.” Bastien gestured with his chin toward Lissa, who was dozing on his shoulder.
“She knows everything.” He added ruefully, “And anything I haven’t told her, she’s probably already picked out of my head, anyway.”
“She’s that good?”
“She’s better, man.” And as he said the words, he realized he was proud of her talent. Not that he had any right to be after the crappy way he’d acted about it with her, doubting her and all but calling her a charlatan.
“How deep into the Bratya have you gotten?”
“Upper management. I work for Peter Menchekov.”
Bastien whistled between his teeth.
“With Lissa’s help, I’m closing in on the identity of the ringleader. I’ve got it down to a half-dozen names.”
“When we get where we’re going, you should send that list to Jennie.”
“I’m planning to.”
They turned off the highway and onto a decent road that quickly turned into a narrow road overhung by massive cypress trees. At any second, Max expected them to drive off the narrow strip of land into the swamp glinting blackly on either side of them.
“Where are we going?” Max repeated.
“To get you that cavalry you asked for.”
Cavalry indeed. Hopefully, the modern kind with tanks and big-ass guns.
CHAPTER 13
Lissa listened to the men talking quietly over her head as she pretended to be asleep. Max must really trust Bastien to be revealing so much. Heck, the only reason she knew anything about Max’s covert activities was because he couldn’t keep it secret from her if he tried.
She could imagine how much it must stink to be in a relationship with her and feel naked and exposed all the time. Especially for a man like Max, who lived for secrecy. But there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.
The truck stopped, and Bastien cut the engine. She opened her eyes to look outside. And gasped. All she could see in any direction was water. Black, oily swamp water. Gnarled roots stuck up out of the water like the crests of hideous monsters, and broad-leafed kudzu vines hung over everything in a choking blanket. It was scary as hell.
“We’re here,” Bastien announced cheerfully.
The ground was spongy and moist beneath her feet. Eeyew. She followed the two men
onto a short wooden dock with a flat-bottomed, metal-hulled boat moored to it. The guys threw back the tarp covering it, and Bastien unlocked a chain securing boat and motor.
“We’re going into the swamp in that?” she asked reluctantly.
Bastien grinned at her. “She be a fine vessel. Faster than the truck by a long shot.”
“Saints preserve us all,” she muttered as Max helped her into the boat.
Bastien took the tiller, and she was startled to see him pull on some sort of bulky goggles. Max donned some and then passed a pair to her. Confused, she pulled the apparatus over her eyes. Max fiddled with the side of the gadget, and the swamp came into green relief around her.
The motor rumbled to life, sending vibrations through the boat. They eased away from the dock into the night. They must have traveled for an hour, down open causeways, skirting the edge of a big lake and then winding deep into a maze of islets covered in thick undergrowth. How Bastien wasn’t completely lost, she couldn’t fathom.
Eventually, she couldn’t resist asking, “How do you know where you’re going?”
The cop answered, grinning below his goggles, “This be home sweet home to me, chère.”
Sheesh. He sounded as though he actually was fond of this wild tangle of vegetation and water.
“It’s not far now,” he warned Max. He cut the big engine and switched to a smaller electric motor that he dropped behind the boat.
“Do we need to be quiet?” she breathed.
Bastien laughed heartily. “Hell to the no. You sneak up on my people, they shoot you dead. I just went to the fishing motor ’cause the water be too shallow for Big Bertha.”
Max responded in disgust, “No need to terrify the lady any more than she already is.”
“Aw, c’mon, bro. I was just playin’ around a little.”
“Don’t scare Lissa.” Max’s voice was flat and without inflection.
Bastien chuckled. “Power down, dude. I’ll quit messin’ with your lady.”
Max’s lady? She liked the sound of that. “Does whoever we’re meeting actually live out here?”
Harlequin Romantic Suspense March 2016 Box Set Page 63
