Mayhem's Warrior: Operation Mayhem

by Lindsay Cross

  No way would she ever strap him into a suit.

  “Maybe one day you will, but any resistance you pose to those men is payment enough. Here, this is the robe and head covering you wore. Miss, you must cover your face again. Whatever you do, don’t make eye contact with any soldier. There is no woman in this place who has eyes as bright blue as yours. They are a dead giveaway.”

  The nurse went to the door as Caroline fixed her costume and shouldered the small satchel. Moments later, their guardian angel was back, gesturing for them to follow her. “We must go now. If anyone catches us, run.”

  The nurse, who’d never told them her name, Caroline realized, stepped out into the hall and hung a left, her pace brisk yet unremarkable in the setting. Caroline hugged Reaper’s side and they went out together. Was it her imagination or was he putting more weight on her than before?

  They hurried past flashes of light as the nurse maneuvered them back to another door. “Peace be with you. Good luck.” She shoved open the door.

  Caroline couldn’t leave without saying something else or doing something. It just didn’t feel right. “If it’s ever within my power to do so, I will return to this place and find you.”

  The nurse offered her a brittle smile, one that was devoid of any hope. “What can you do? Only an insane person would return to this place after living in freedom. You would be best to forget you ever saw or knew me.”

  “Wait! At least tell me your name.”

  “You’re just as stubborn as your man. It should serve you both well to forget, but my name is Mira Abdul. Here take these and go. Now.” Mira shoved a pair of sandals into Caroline’s hands and pushed them out the door, leaving them in the semi darkness of the alley.

  “Caroline, we’ve got to get back to the jungle now,” Reaper said, his voice urgent. “It’s our only cover. We can skirt the edges of the village as we make our way out.”

  Caroline quickly pulled on the sandals and then allowed Reaper to take the lead once more, though his arm was still around her. She helped support him as much as she could, feeling inadequate and tiny all the same. Once more, the gigantic growth of the jungle loomed ahead, its wild tangle of uncontrolled leaves just as scary as it had been before. This place filled with every nature of threat was their only hope of salvation.

  15

  Reaper held onto his consciousness by a sheer force of will. That nice little concoction Mira had given him was definitely helping, but he wouldn’t make it ten hours, let alone half that time, on that tiny dose of ephedrine and steroids. He needed his serum, but before he could take more time for that, he had to get Caroline into that tiny hut he’d scouted out before penetrating the lab to kidnap her. It was located at least three klicks back into the jungle. Almost two and a half miles of nearly impossible terrain to cover—a near impossibility given his condition and the fact that Caroline was just running on steam. Compartmentalize, Captain. You need to suck it the fuck up.

  He’d been in worse situations than this with his men. At least they’d managed to escape the town without detection, giving them precious time to make an escape without pouring what little energy they had into running. But that didn’t mean they could take a leisurely stroll through the forest. He needed to get them out of here STAT. But Caroline Cotter was the kind of woman that could distract a man easily with her big, innocent-looking blue eyes.

  Innocent looking, who was he kidding? The girl was innocent through and through. Her sinister father had sheltered and protected her since she was an infant. His protective tendencies had only failed at the end of his life, when he’d arranged for her to marry a man who wanted to use her more than Reaper and Jack Mankel combined. Lucky for Caroline, it had never gone through.

  Though Caroline didn’t know it, he’d met her maid, nanny and cook. They all lived in a la-la fantasy land whose borders were determined by polished mahogany and long, sweeping driveways maintained by full-time gardeners. Everyone in Caroline’s home reminded him of a domesticated Yorkie raised in a palace. They were nice enough, but completely oblivious to the threats that had surrounded them for years, let alone the true dangers to Caroline.

  Because if they had even sensed a hint of danger that Reaper posed to their precious girl, they would have shot him dead on the spot before letting him into her mansion. But people were trusting; it was their downfall. He’d been trusting once too, and it had resulted in the death of Dawson, his teammate, and the alteration of his entire teams’ DNA against their will. They’d been turned into bloodthirsty killing machines with no control over their bodies. And all because Reaper had been blind and trusting.

  He hadn’t felt much remorse about allowing Caroline to continue to believe he’d been sent here by her father to rescue her. Weakness didn’t deserve respect, no matter how good or true a person’s intentions. But Caroline wasn’t weak, not really. A weak woman wouldn’t have hidden them in that stack of bodies. And she was easily sharper than ninety-nine percent of the people he’d come into contact with over his life. She just completely lacked a sense of depravity. Lacked the selfishness possessed by most humans.

  He could tell she truly meant what she’d said to Mira—she had every intention of getting back here to rescue the nurse, and if Reaper was willing to bet, every man, woman, and child in need in this area. Caroline was more stubborn than his team leader, and that was saying a lot. But while Hawk made Reaper want to throw a fist in his teammate’s face and pound some sense into him, Caroline’s stubbornness brought only a sense of admiration.

  Could he really force her into another lab and take her blood? No matter how much he wanted to keep her as his own, to protect her from anyone who would do her harm, himself included, he’d made a promise to his team and that was a promise he would only break with death.

  Maybe he should tell her the truth?

  “Reaper, you need to rest. You’re going to re-open your wound.”

  An annoying cacophony of insects crashed into his awareness. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t realized they’d nearly traversed the entire path to the hidden thatch cottage. “Almost there. Keep going.”

  “I thought your men would be waiting at the edge of the jungle. Where are they?”

  “There’s no one waiting. I just told her that so she wouldn’t say anything else when we left.”

  Caroline stopped mid step. “You lied to her?”

  “We needed to get out of there and it was a plausible explanation. I might’ve trusted her a little bit, but I sure as hell didn’t trust any cousin.”

  “So, there’s no one meeting us?” When she gazed up at him like that, her damn baby blue eyes so wide and beautiful, it was hard for him to think straight.

  He’d lost more blood than he’d thought—there was no other explanation for these stray and unwelcome thoughts. “Isn’t that what I just said? Sorry if it disappoints you, but you’re stuck with me for a little bit longer.”

  And why the hell did he care if she didn’t want to be stuck with him? He shouldn’t care about her thoughts or feelings whatsoever.

  And to cover up his aggravation, he started walking forward at an even faster speed.

  “I’m not sorry. I’m glad. Honestly, I wasn’t ready to meet up with anyone else just yet.”

  Her words caused him to stumble to a stop. “Why?”

  She shrugged and turned her face away so he couldn’t read her expression, but she was hiding something. Had she figured out his plan? He couldn’t let her leave—not now.

  “If you’re thinking about booking it out on me, it would be the dumbest decision you ever made.”

  His comment had her whipping around to look at him, her blonde brows arched once more and her mouth open. “You think I’m going to leave you?” she said with a semi laugh. “Why would I leave my one chance at survival? The man who risked his life for me?”

  Reaper shrugged, suddenly feeling self-conscious of all stupid fucking things. “You sound like you’re ready to be away from me.”
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  Her burst of laughter surprised him and he jerked back. “I wasn’t ready to give up my time with you yet, you stupid oaf. I don’t want to leave you.”

  Her answer made even less sense to him. “Why the hell not? If my team were here, they could extract us, injury or not, and you would be stateside in less than twenty-four hours. Isn’t that what you want?”

  Caroline didn’t immediately respond to his more than logical question and he found himself unable to look away from her. For once, her calm expression gave him pause. She was the one who held the silence this time, not him. Finally, when he was about ready to grab her and shake the answer free, she said, “When I first realized what had happened … that I hadn’t been kidnapped for ransom but so that the man I’d left at the altar could keep me and run experiments on me, yes, I freely admit that’s all I thought about. That’s all I dreamed about. Going back home to my father, the only family I’ve ever had. But something changed when you broke into the lab and rescued me.

  “It was your voice that kept me grounded, your swift reactions and unquestionable authority over everyone around us. I should’ve been horrified when you shot Dr. Winters, but all I felt was a sense of relief and gratitude. You saved me from an untenable situation. And you’ve been saving me ever since.”

  “But you still dream about getting back home. That’s what keeps you going, right?” Because that was what kept him going—getting back to his team, fulfilling his promise. No matter how much his feverish mind said it was now because he wanted her.

  “I’ll always dream of going back home, but that’s not what’s keeping me going anymore,” she said softly.

  No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop staring into her eyes. She’d thrown out an invisible net and trapped him. He wasn’t too stupid or prudish to understand exactly what she was implying. He was the reason she kept going.

  The thrill that shot through him was so soul shattering it nearly rocked his entire belief system. Nearly. If he hadn’t already betrayed his men, if his actions and decisions had not resulted in this situation—where they relied on the compound found in Caroline’s blood for their very survival—he might let himself actually be sucked into the vortex of pleasure that her beautiful body offered. He might let himself give in to those feelings and emotions that were still trying to claw their way out.

  But he didn’t have that luxury.

  These daydreams were just another form of torture for them both. No matter how hard he was for her right now, he had to remember a cold truth: Caroline Cotter wasn’t his to have. She never had been and she never would be.

  The abandoned hut that appeared in the distance was his salvation. “Well, Princess, I just found what we both needed to keep going.”

  Caroline followed his gaze and seconds later gave a small jump in the air. “A house?”

  “Your ability for optimism amazes me. Not many people would call that a house.”

  “After the past few months, that shack looks like a freaking palace. If I want to call it a house, I will.”

  He inclined his head, willing to give her that much, and said, “Your palace awaits.”

  16

  Caroline shuffled hesitantly through the door less entryway into the one-bedroom shack. The roof may have been caved in at the back corner along with creepy, crawly things slithering across the floor, but she didn’t allow herself to dwell on that for long. No one was trying to gun them down or attack them. They were safe.

  There was a makeshift cot made of bamboo and some sort of rope support system she couldn’t describe, but there was also a blanket hanging over the headboard, a blanket she immediately grabbed and shook out, forcing herself not to squeal and shriek as a few centipedes fell onto her forearms, tumbled onto the floor, and scrabbled toward the door.

  Once she was sure the quilt was free of bugs or snakes or whatever the hell else might have infested it, she doubled it over onto the ropes and patted it, indicating that Reaper should lie down. By now his face was pale again, covered in a slight sheen of sweat, and he had the gaunt look of a man in pain. He staggered to the bed and collapsed, his robe parting to reveal his semi bare chest.

  Out of decency, Caroline forced herself to survey the rest of the shack instead of staring openly at this godlike chest.

  “There’s a batch of meds in my pocket. I need you to get out one dose and administer it.” He slung his uninjured arm over his forehead and closed his eyes, and the effect was absolutely devastating to her senses.

  He might as well be a black-haired Achilles in repose, and she the mortal who had him all to herself. Her mouth dry, she hesitantly advanced, and knelt next to the cargo pocket he indicated next to his knee.

  She pulled open the Velcro, which basically blasted the quiet, and extracted a medium-size, flat, Army-green pouch. There were numerous lines in the material, like it contained a pack of pens, but when she opened the top, she saw it was filled with large hypodermic needles. They contained a bright-green, gel-like substance. Was this what he wanted her to give him? For some reason, one she couldn’t fathom, she’d assumed he meant pills or something. These needles looked like they were intended for horses or elephants. “This?”

  “Yes. Just one vile. Subcutaneous. In the flank.”

  “Flank?” She knew her voice was a screech, but she couldn’t help it. She was smart enough to realize flank meant butt, and the thought of seeing his bare ass made her mouth water.

  Reaper rolled over onto his good shoulder, and shoved his pants down far enough to reveal one tight cheek. “Just jam it in.”

  Almost in a trance, Caroline touched his bare flesh, savoring the feel of his skin. She’d seen a man’s naked ass before, but this one made her belly do little somersaults. “I’ve never given a shot before.”

  And she had never before wanted to sink her fingernails into a man’s ass and squeeze.

  “It’s easy, just stick it in and inject the fluid. I promise I won’t cry.”

  Well, if he thought it was that easy, surely she could manage it. Then if he was sore, she would be perfectly willing to massage the tenderness later.

  “You’re the first person who’s ever trusted me with a needle.” And she was willing to bet her entire inheritance he’d be the last. Unable to stare directly at what she was about to do, she turned her head away and watched, cringing, out of the corner of her eye. With a quick flick of her wrist, she stuck the needle into his flesh and injected the fluid, yanking it back out within seconds. The whole process left her sweating and shaking, but Reaper turned over without even a change in his hardened expression.

  “I need to rest, recover my strength. I may fall asleep for a little while. If anyone comes close to that door, use my rifle and pump them full of lead. You got it?”

  The very real possibility sent a shudder of fear through her. “And what if someone’s behind him?”

  “I’ll finish him off.”

  “But if I empty your gun, how would you do that?”

  “The same way I usually do it. With my bare hands.”

  17

  Reaper was out all night. She almost left him and went back to the town to find Mira, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave him alone and vulnerable in the shack. She’d been able to subsist easily on the small amount of water and food Mira had given them, and whenever Reaper woke up, she plied him with food and water. Other than watching him almost without a break, she had no choice but to simply wait and worry.

  Midmorning, all the sweat on his body disappeared, dried up by the high heat of a fever. He twitched and tossed and turned and mumbled, but never opened his eyes. She’d checked underneath his gauze when he got still and quiet, and while the wound looked red and angry, there was no pus leaking out. She could only cross her fingers and pray that meant there was no infection.

  Plus, she’d found a syringe at the bottom of Mira’s satchel—another dose of antibiotics for her to give him “within the next thirty-six hours.”

  She gentl
y replaced the bandage and Reaper flung an arm out, the blow landing solidly across her chest and flinging her onto her ass in the dirt-covered hut.

  He continued to mumble. It was mainly gibberish but every now and then she would catch a few words. “Winters” and “Project Mayhem” were two of the things he kept repeating. She hadn’t figured out what it all meant yet, but she knew Winters and what she’d done.

  Pushing herself back to her knees, she went back to him and laid her hand across his forehead, snatching it back in shock when his skin practically burned her palm. Panic licked at her, blurring her senses. His fever should be getting better, not worse. What if his blood was infected? He needed that second dose of antibiotics now, and if he didn’t get better within the next few hours, she was going to backpack into town. She found the needle and approached the bed. Mira had injected the last dose into Reaper’s IV. Which meant it needed to go into a vein. Only with Reaper so dehydrated his veins weren’t bulging in the least.

  Like many Americans, her medical knowledge came from watching reruns of Grey’s Anatomy. She used her scarf as a tourniquet around his bicep and pulled as tight as she possibly could. After almost a full minute, a tiny throbbing vein raised beneath Reaper’s flesh in the crook of his left elbow.

  She could do this. How hard could it possibly be to get that tiny little needle into that tiny little vein?

  Tension filled up her chest like a hot balloon near to bursting. She bent over and slowly lined up the needle.

  “Here goes nothing.”

  Caroline bit her lip and pierced his flesh. She felt every layer of skin give way to the sharp point, and when she was sure she’d found the vein, she injected the antibiotics and pulled the needle out. A tiny almost minuscule bead of blood welled.

  She’d done it! She’d given Reaper a dose directly into his vein!