Mayhem's Warrior: Operation Mayhem

by Lindsay Cross

  He extended his hand to her, “Take my hand.”

  Before she had time to get a good grip on it, he was yanking her out of the tunnel and depositing her on her feet. It was the first time she’d been outside in … well, she didn’t know how long, but there was no time to think about that. The air was still thick and heavy with smoke.

  Reversing, she saw the mangled and bloodied bodies around the entrance. “Oh no.” And it was then she noticed the blood on her hand. Blood from Reaper. She swung around to look at him, saw the blood soaking his shirt right before her eyes. “You’re hurt!”

  He glanced down as if an annoying bug had bitten him. “It’s nothing. We’ve got to move.”

  “You’re covered in blood,” she said breathlessly and reached for his shoulder. His large hand wrapped around her wrist like a vise, stopping her mid-air.

  “We have to go.” He glanced over her head. “Now.”

  Instead of releasing her arm, Reaper began dragging her toward the thick line of trees edging the small clearing.

  Her toe caught on something. She tripped and would’ve hit the ground if Reaper hadn’t held her up. When she saw what she had tripped on, she nearly gagged. A severed foot lay in a pool of its own blood.

  She slapped a hand over her mouth, fighting back the rush of bile. Carnage lay all around her. She could see at least five or six dead bodies. Dear God, had Reaper taken out that entire team?

  “What did you do?” She croaked out, resisting his forward momentum, but it was like pulling against an elephant. Reaper didn’t even slow down or look over his shoulder.

  He lifted his bloodied arm in front of him and they plunged into the forest, Reaper’s body protecting her from most of the thick, blade-like leaves that grew so abundantly from the trees.

  “I saved your life. Don’t sound so shocked.”

  “But did you have to kill all of them?” she blurted out, trying to process the scene they’d just left behind. She’d never seen limbs separated from bodies before. Not even in movies. She’d always covered her eyes to keep from seeing the scary parts.

  Reaper let go of her wrist and slammed to a stop. Caroline blundered into his back and bounced off. When he turned to face her, his expression was empty and a shudder worked down her spine. His midnight-black gaze traveled from her head to her toes before he answered. “Did you want me to leave you there?”

  She became acutely aware of her naked state beneath the hospital gown and crossed her arms over her chest. He was being so coldhearted. So … vicious. “Of course not, it’s just that—”

  He stopped, his blood-covered body rigid, making him appear even more menacing. “Just what? You enjoyed being a permanent blood donor? Did you think those men—” he stabbed a finger over her shoulder, “—were going to politely ask you to return to your quarters, and if you refused, escort you to the nearest airport so you could fly home to daddy dearest?”

  “No, you know I didn’t. There were just so many bodies. So much blood,” she tried to put some force behind her tone but failed miserably.

  Reaper didn’t give an inch. Instead he took another step forward, forcing her to crane her head back to look up into his harsh face.

  “Each and every one of those men would have beaten and raped you if not for their orders to bring you back alive and safe so that the scientists could continue their experiments on you.” Even though his face was hard and cold, menace rolled from his body in waves, punching against her system.

  Did he think she was disgusted by him? Was he angry with her because of that? “Reaper, I’m not disgusted. I’m just in shock. I’ve never seen carnage like that.”

  “Well you better get used to it, Princess, because I guarantee you those aren’t the last men I’ll have to kill.”

  In that exact moment, her world narrowed on him. She noticed the slightly paler shade to his skin and sweat beading around his hairline. He was striking out at her because he was in pain.

  Her father had been the same way. The senator had never been shot, of course, but he always got cranky when he was sick. Reaper must be experiencing that, times a thousand.

  Suddenly, he didn’t seem so menacing to her anymore. This was her wounded dark angel.

  Despite his wound, his shoulders were tense—like he was waiting on her to come at him with guns blazing.

  Her trepidation melted away, and though she wanted to reach out and touch him, soothe him, she was also smart enough to know he wouldn’t welcome that contact right now. So she said, “I’m glad my father sent you. I feel safe having you around. And while I hate seeing death in any form, I’m glad you killed those men to save my life.”

  She poured every ounce of sincerity she could muster into her words.

  Reaper just stared at her, and after a full minute of silence, he turned and marched deeper into the jungle.

  Caroline stood rooted to the spot, watching him stalk off. Well, it wasn’t exactly an epic ride into the sunset, but at least he was no longer growling at her like an angry bear.

  After a few moments, he realized she wasn’t following him and stopped. A tiny defiant spark ignited within her, but she quickly put that light out. Her warrior needed her cooperation. She had no idea how bad his injury truly was, but any creature losing that amount of blood wouldn’t last long. And she wouldn’t survive in this jungle without him.

  She sucked in a deep breath, lifted her chin, and strode forward.

  “Are you through with being complicated?”

  His question caused her to nearly stumble. He thought she was being complicated? Because she’d been shocked by the sight of men blown to bits? “I guess you’re used to that kind of scene,” she said sarcastically.

  “Yes, I am.”

  She stared into his eyes, searching for any hint of humor. There was none.

  His frank answer took all the wind out of her sails. Of course, he’d seen things like that before. It was obvious the man was highly skilled. Even if she hadn’t heard Doctor Winters call him captain, she would have guessed from his hair cut and bearing. Her father would have only sent the most elite to save her.

  Caroline’s head ached and she pressed her fingers to her temples, slowly drawing small circles to try and relieve some of the throbbing. The cloying humidity of the jungle stuck to her skin, and the heat seemed to suck all the freshness out of the air. Her strength faltered, and she felt her shoulders droop. The burst of energy from the shot Dr. Winters had administered would eventually fade, but Caroline had hoped it would last longer than this.

  At least her skin didn’t feel like it was crawling anymore, but the sounds bombarding her brain made it hard to focus on anything else.

  She wanted Reaper to touch her again. For whatever reason, probably the fact that she’d gone so long without human contact, he soothed her.

  But no matter how strong that longing was, she was also afraid of him, especially in his current state. He’d be more likely to snap at her than soothe her. And after what he’d done for her, she didn’t want to pester him.

  Reaper heaved out a great sigh and, as if reading her mind, extended his hand. She only hesitated a second before winding her fingers through his, bloodstains and all. Immediately, the world around them seemed to quiet. And Caroline became aware of every one of his callouses rubbing against her palm. He had the hands of a man who worked hard, strong hands that took care of those weaker than himself.

  “I guess we make quite a pair don’t we?”

  His lips fell into a slight frown. “How so?”

  Caroline gestured to her clothing, or lack thereof, and his wound. “Not exactly geared out for a long trek through the jungle.”

  “There’s a city five clicks west of here. That’s where we’re headed.”

  “What is a click?”

  “It’s 1,000 meters.”

  Caroline gaped, her fatigue doubling down. “5,000 meters? That’s really far. Can you make it that far?”

  At his current rate of blood loss, h
e’d surely pass out before then. And what would she do when that happened? She didn’t know anything about medical stuff, and the jungle wasn’t exactly a sterile environment. What if he got an infection? Or worse, what if the smell of his blood attracted predators? Images of lions pouncing for their throats flashed through her mind. Caroline gulped, silently cursing the man who had taken her.

  Reaper stiffened, her question obviously offending his manly sensibilities. “Of course I can make it that far. Do you think this is the first time I’ve been shot in battle?”

  “I’m guessing the answer is no,” she said.

  “That is correct. But if we don’t get a move on, we won’t have to worry about making it to the city before nightfall. The general’s men will find us long before we make it there.”

  Caroline’s gut tightened. “I can’t go back.”

  “Then if you’re through questioning my abilities, do you think we could get a move on?”

  From the way he studied her, like she was some kind of puzzle he couldn’t figure out, she knew his question hadn’t been the least bit sarcastic. Dear Lord, this man really didn’t have any experience with civilians, and it was quickly becoming apparent he didn’t have any experience with women either. “Please. I can keep up. Let’s go.”

  She could do this. She could walk through this jungle to some city she’d never heard of before while they were being tracked by ruthless killers. Piece of cake. Reaper obviously wasn’t that worried about it. He moved quickly, not even looking over his shoulder to see if they were being followed. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t looking anywhere but straight ahead.

  It was like he was concentrating all of his focus and energy on getting them to their destination. But whenever a huge leaf or limb blocked their path, he protected her from being scratched or hit. His movements were swift, almost second nature.

  She was beginning to see now though why her father had only sent one man. Reaper had done the work of an entire army. Maybe her father had known that he’d need stealth as opposed to firepower.

  “Is it really just you by yourself?”

  Reaper didn’t pause in his stride, which outstretched her by probably a foot and left her high-stepping to keep up.

  “Yes.”

  “How did you know where to find me? Did my father tell you?”

  “No.”

  “Are you usually this talkative?”

  “No.”

  Getting information out of him was like trying to pull out a tooth that wasn’t loose. Part of her wished she had someone else to talk to, someone who’d engage in the conversation. She couldn’t wait to talk to her friends and tell them everything. Celine would definitely let her cry on her shoulder, and Kate? Kate would tell her to suck it up. Caroline hadn’t been able to spend a ton of time with them, but they were dedicated and loyal. They were the ones who’d helped her escape before she was forced to marry the general. It was the last time she’d seen Kate. Celine had been kept with her in that god-awful hut in the desert. But they’d eventually taken her away too. But what had happened to her then? What if she’d been kept in the same compound all along? Were they even now subjecting her to the same slow torture they’d inflicted on Caroline? The thought made her nauseous.

  How could she just now be thinking about her friends? She tugged at Reaper’s hand, but he kept moving, pulling her along behind him. “Reaper, wait. We have to go back. Celine might still be in there.”

  “Celine is fine. She’s already back in the States. So is Kate.”

  Relief rolled through her and Caroline let him drag her along for another few minutes in silence as she processed his answer. “So they weren’t hurt?”

  “Not the last time I saw them. They were pretty hell-bent on finding you, actually. Especially the dark-haired one.”

  “Kate. She can be pretty fierce at times,” Caroline said.

  “If that’s what you want to call it. She is very fierce.”

  “How long have they been home? Where were they being held? What about the man who took me?” The recent past was such a haze. The days were blurred together from the drugs and the odd flashes of memory she’d retained didn’t flow together well enough for her to put the puzzle pieces in any kind of working order.

  She got a grunt for an answer.

  6

  Just the simple task of walking was becoming harder and harder. Reaper’s energy was tapping out, and it would continue to drain until he plugged the hole in his chest. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, pain burned through his shoulder constantly, making every incremental move torture. Not that he couldn’t handle a little torture. He just preferred not to be pain.

  If he lost consciousness before he was able to locate a safe hiding place for them to recuperate, there was no doubt that the general would find them, siphon Caroline until she was bled dry, and more than likely dissect Reaper to try to figure out what made him tick.

  Oddly enough, one of the things grounding him to the present was Caroline’s soft hand clasped in his. She was so tiny, her head topping out at about the center of his chest. Everything about her screamed fragile, from her bone structure to her size to those big blue eyes that practically swallowed up her entire face. She needed his protection.

  It was a thought that should’ve been annoying, but it instead sent a surge of primal satisfaction through him. Feeling such a riot of emotions when she was near made him oddly off-balance. He was so used to being on solid footing, to making split-second decisions without regret or doubt. His little golden goose was making him feel weird things.

  And that kind of weakness was nothing he could afford.

  “So did my father give you the orders directly?”

  Reaper winced at Caroline’s innocent question. Of course her father hadn’t given him any orders. The senator had been dead for well over a month, killed by Jack Mankel, the very man responsible for convincing Reaper and his team to join Project Mayhem. But if the princess thought her daddy was responsible for her sudden exit from the experiment, Reaper sure as hell wasn’t going to break the news. He needed her cooperation—at least until he fully recovered from the gunshot wound. He couldn’t risk that she’d escape while he was too weak to give chase. “Don’t know.”

  Her frustration was a rubber band snapping him in the back. He could practically feel her glare pinning him between his shoulder blades. She tried to yank her hand free, but he held on, unwilling to sever their connection.

  “What do you know?” she said.

  Reaper detected the distant sound of vehicles hauling ass into the jungle from the direction of the bunker. The general and his men would be in hot pursuit. Even if they weren’t worried about capturing and killing Reaper, Caroline was the key to the whole project. Without her, Project Mayhem wouldn’t make Gen. Rainier his fortune.

  “What I do know is that they’re chasing us. The more you talk and distract me, the slower we go and the more likely it is that we’ll get captured.”

  She gasped and tried to yank her hand away again. “You are grumpier than a toddler at naptime when you’re hurt.”

  Reaper drew up short. “Did you just compare me to a child?”

  The woman had lost her mind. Reaper spun and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at her. He couldn’t help but notice the dark purple shadows underneath her eyes and the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath that god-awful hospital gown. His little blabbermouth was running low on energy too, probably the adrenaline wearing off. Was that something women did when they were getting tired? Talking, talking, talking for no reason?

  But apparently she had enough energy to plant her fists on her hips and glare right back at him. “Yes, I did. Did that hurt your manly sensibilities?”

  “I don’t have manly sensibilities.”

  She sniffed, a cute little curling of her nose that clearly showed her disdain for his comment. For the first time in his memory Reaper felt the need to defend his actions. “Would a child be able to rescue you from a co
mpound of killers? Or get you out of a jungle full of creatures that want to eat you alive?”

  Her firm lips drooped into a slight frown.

  “Would a child kill for you? Take a bullet for you?”

  Her once firm shoulders now drooped considerably. Caroline’s defiant gaze dropped to the ground and her bare toes curled in the spongy moss beneath her feet. “You’re right.”

  “Damn straight, I’m right.”

  Thinking the conversation over, Reaper quickly scanned their surroundings, focusing his energy on the still-distant sounds of engines and men. Sounds Caroline wouldn’t be able to detect, not for at least another couple of miles.

  “It’s just that you’re the first person who’s talked to me and even touched me in so long,” her trembling, breathless voice drew his attention. Fat tears filled her eyes. “I feel so strange, Reaper. I haven’t seen my father or my friends. I-I didn’t even know if they were still alive. And that shot Dr. Winters gave me is making me feel so weird.”

  One tear escaped her lower lid and trailed down her cheek. Her chin wobbled.

  Reaper took a step back, completely at a loss for what to do. He didn’t want to be anywhere near a crying woman, and he definitely couldn’t afford for her to waste precious minutes sobbing.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not letting him take you back.” There, he’d reassured her.

  Only it didn’t have the desired effect. Instead of stopping the tears, it made them flow more freely. “I owe you my life.”

  He scrubbed a hand over his skull-trimmed hair, the movement sending bolts of pain through his injured shoulder. This was a lose-lose situation.

  When he didn’t know what to do, he usually asked one of his teammates. Granted, that didn’t happen very often. As a matter of fact, it had only happened one time—a chunk of concrete had slammed into the side of his head from an explosion in one of the houses they’d raided. He’d almost been knocked unconscious.

  “So, what exactly do you need to stop crying?”

  If possible, her eyes grew even bigger and her mouth fell open. She stared at him like he was an alien or some creature from another planet.