The contents of her nightstand drawer spilled onto the floor as she jerked it open a little too hard. No gun. She hadn’t anticipated needing it here. She’d only brought it to appease Joe. Safe to say he wouldn’t be impressed. She climbed over the bed and flung open the closet just as the bedroom door splintered and flew back against the wall.
Stay focused. Where was it? She pawed frantically through the boxes in the closet until Andre’s fingers closed over her shoulder. Jerking away from him, she pulled back and threw the palm of her hand toward his nose. He caught her wrist at the last second and jerked her arm behind her back. She gasped with the stinging pain.
“Fighting is useless. I would rather not hurt you, but I will if you leave me no choice.”
“You bastard!” Anger burned in her chest and blurred her vision with its intensity. What did he want from her? A pinprick of fear made her tremble, but she tamped it down. She couldn’t afford that weakness. Show no fear. That was one lesson she’d learned well. This sleazy goon would live to regret putting his hands on her.
“You American women swear too much.” He pushed her toward the bed and shoved her, face-first, into the chenille-covered down comforter.
She struggled to crawl away from him, but he straddled her legs and twisted her arm higher toward her shoulder blade. The pain tore through her arm and shoulder, and she gritted her teeth to keep from crying out.
“You haven’t seen anything yet, you son of a bitch.”
He put his knee on her arm in the middle of her back while he did something with his hands. She couldn’t see far enough behind her to make out what he was doing. Horror filled her a moment later when he jerked her other arm up, plunged in a needle, and released a burning, stinging liquid beneath her skin.
“No, please . . .”
“Quiet. This is for your own good. You will see.” He withdrew the needle and tossed it on the bed beside her.
All too quickly, her limited view of the world dissolved into blackness.
RAYNA WOKE WITH a start. Arms and legs bound securely to a chair, she sat helplessly. As the memories flooded back, anger at the way she’d been duped overshadowed even her fear. Those men had attacked her in her apartment. That didn’t sound like a random incident. It was personal. The scumball had drugged her and apparently abducted her. What could they possibly want?
Where was she? They were no longer in her apartment. That much was clear. The room’s rough wooden floor, the dim lighting, and the smell of damp earth gave the place an underground atmosphere. A basement.
Men spoke in low voices somewhere behind her. She strained to hear them but couldn’t make out the words. It was a minute before she realized they were speaking in Russian.
A groan escaped as she straightened her neck, stiff from God knows how long in that position. The voices abruptly cut off, and footsteps approached.
The one called Andre stepped in front of her. His dark brown eyes, black in the fading light, drilled through her. She refused to look away, even when he stepped closer and wiped blood from the corner of her mouth with his thumb.
“You angered my men. They were rougher than necessary.”
“You expect me to apologize for defending myself?”
“I expect you to do exactly as I tell you.” He pulled a chair around in front of her and straddled it.
“It’s safe to assume you don’t need a jump for your car, so would you mind telling me why I’m here?” He was uncomfortably close, and it was all she could do not to pull back. Her heart beat too fast, and she drew a deep breath to calm herself. The last thing she wanted was to let him see how scared she was.
He nodded. “I am aware you had other plans for your evening. I am truly sorry you had to be involved, but it was necessary. Do not worry about your friend, Vivian. She has been notified of your . . . family emergency and knows you will be away indefinitely. If things go as planned, you will be released unharmed. Either way, you will cause me no further trouble.”
Rayna tossed her head, ignoring the threat in his words. “What do you want from me?”
“You have a friend—Tyler Whitlock.”
She blinked in surprise, then caught herself. “Don’t know him.”
Andre smiled coldly. “Nice try, but I have tracked you ever since you left Kalispell, and I have made it my business to learn all about you and the dangerous people you associate with, including our mutual friend Ty.”
She studied his face. He stared back with deadly earnestness. It was clear he wasn’t bluffing. “What’s your interest in him?”
“I misplaced something. Ty knows how to find it. You will be my guarantee that he will do as I ask.”
“If you think I’ll ask him to help you after this, you’re out of your mind.”
Andre’s gaze swept her face, then he pulled two syringes from his inside coat pocket. “It can always get worse. You have a choice to make.” He held up one of the syringes. “This is the dose I gave you in your apartment. It will make you sleep like a baby for several hours.” He laid them both on a small table beside her and fingered the second syringe. “This one is five times the dose. It causes trembling, seizures, elevated heart rate, pain, and finally, a massive heart attack.”
Rayna struggled to breathe normally. Show no fear. She repeated the words, pretty sure panic was written all over her face.
“Your interests will be best served by helping me, but if you decide not to, I will find another way to gain Ty’s cooperation. Take a few minutes to consider.” Andre smiled, but no warmth reached his eyes. He pushed himself to his feet and walked back the way he’d come, his footsteps receding behind her. The closing of a door echoed in the vacant silence.
Chapter Two
* * *
THE GYM WAS empty when Ty walked in. He could never enter these walls without seeing Rayna, smiling, laughing, teasing him as they sparred or stood around afterward shooting the breeze with the other guys. She was no longer here, but he still saw her everywhere he turned. He had to get the hell out of here. His bags were packed. Later today, he’d be gone.
He shoved the ghostly images aside and proceeded to the weight rack, selecting a pair of dumbbells, and following the edge of the mat to the closest bench.
As much as he hated leaving, it was the right decision. Apparently there was no other way to get the woman out of his head.
Ty straddled the bench and let the weights hang down on both sides. Right here was where he’d met her a little over a year ago. Sick with grief over her brother’s death and fixated on revenge, Rayna had set out to prove she was a real badass. He’d seen through her bluster and volunteered to teach her a few things. Turned out she was a damn quick study. More than a few times, he’d had to scramble to keep from getting his ass kicked.
Slowly, deliberately, he curled his right arm, bringing the forty-pound weight toward his chin until it almost touched. He reversed the motion, pushing outward to a forty-five-degree angle, then repeated the whole process with the left arm before he started over again with the right.
Each new conquest had bolstered Rayna’s confidence and fueled her determination. She’d grown stronger and more capable every day, but she never lost sight of her purpose—justice for Charlie.
He’d been both brother and father to Rayna since their parents died in a car accident when Rayna was thirteen. He’d made sure she had people to stay with so she could finish high school. When she’d earned a scholarship to UCLA, he hocked everything he owned so she could go. Through it all, he’d kept her separate from his life as a mercenary, but after his death, it was as though she couldn’t get close enough to everything that had made him who he was . . . his job, his friends, the place he called home. Charlie was a sniper. Rayna had pushed herself until she became one of the best snipers Ty had ever seen. She’d shown no fear on any of the missions they’d been on together, performing her duties as though she were born to the life. At least that was what Ty had thought, until the day she told him she was leaving
.
Ty hadn’t set out to fall in love with her. Having lost everything once already, the last thing he was looking for was more baggage. Doing his job, working out, and keeping to himself—that was the plan, but Rayna’s grief and rage chipped away at his defenses, making him raw with emotion and ripe for the fall. The day he admitted to himself she’d become the center of his world was the day he’d started to come alive again.
Comforting her in the tragic loss she’d suffered had given him purpose. Hiding from his past here in Joe’s compound had kept him among the living, but his dreams had died a quick death. Rayna had made him believe in himself again. There’d been things he wanted before he came here: the home with the picket fence, a woman who loved him, a dog, maybe even kids someday. All things he’d sacrificed on the same altar as his career. Suddenly, all he could think about was a future with Rayna.
But it wasn’t meant to be. She’d come to her senses and realized she didn’t want the kind of life Ty could offer. She had another plan in mind, and it didn’t include him. What hurt the most was knowing she was absolutely right. Getting away from him was the smartest thing she could do. Now it was his turn to move on.
“Hey, Ty. Joe wants to see you—ASAP.”
Ty paused in the middle of his arm curl, the weight not quite touching his chest, and glanced up. Walker headed toward him, tension emanating from him like light from a hundred-watt bulb. Ty uncurled the arm holding the dumbbell, then pulled it toward his chest again. His gaze flickered over his friend and noted the fisted hands and the muscle that contracted in his firmly set jaw.
Walker’s shoulder-length black hair was pulled back and tied, and a close-cropped beard covered his serious face. He was arguably the most dangerous man on Joe’s payroll, but he looked especially grim today.
“It’s important, Ty.”
It must be important. Walker didn’t usually play errand boy. That was generally part of Ty’s job, but not anymore. “Did you forget? I’ll be out of here in an hour. Whatever Joe needs, someone else will have to get it for him.” He straightened, placed the weight back on the rack by the wall, and brushed past Walker. Ty had time for one more run along the lake before he grabbed his duffel and turned his back on the only home he’d known in over six years.
“Rayna’s in trouble.” Walker’s words dropped like slabs of granite.
Ty stopped and balled his hands into fists as he swung around to face him. “What kind of trouble?”
“All I know is Joe is pretty steamed, and he said to tell you he might need a favor someday.” Walker stopped a few feet away. “That mean anything to you?”
It meant something, all right. It meant his past had finally caught up with him. Giving up his previous life and keeping his head down all these years hadn’t been enough. He knew it wouldn’t be, and Joe had known it too. Six years ago, when Ty asked Joe for a job and a place to live out of the mainstream, Joe gave him a home and a family as well. Ty’s vague and cryptic warnings about the scum that might someday come looking for him didn’t faze Joe. He simply replied he might need a favor someday himself.
Ty should have played it smart. Kept to himself. Instead, he got involved with Rayna and now she was in danger—and not just her. Somewhere, another woman and her seven-year-old daughter were about to have their lives turned upside down again.
Ty pivoted and strode out of the gym, across the compound, and into the main house. He expected Joe to be furious. A veteran with Special Forces training, as well as an ex-Secret Service agent, he’d built and now operated this facility on the shore of Flathead Lake outside Kalispell, Montana. His special team, of which Ty had been a part until today, performed highly classified and dangerous jobs for governmental powers-that-be. The rest of the time, he trained specialized military teams and law enforcement personnel. The point was, no one came here unless Joe invited them.
Bringing this down on their heads—on Rayna’s head—after everything Joe had done for him, was beyond excuse. The shame cut deeply, and the overwhelming need to make it right threatened to crush the breath from him.
“I’ll get her out of this.” Ty braced himself as Joe, six foot four and hard-as-nails, walked toward him.
There was no anger or accusation in Joe’s brown eyes. “We’ll get her out. We’re still a team—that is, if you’re sticking around for this one.”
Ty had a lot of respect for Joe, but when it came to Rayna, his boss simply didn’t get it. Ty’s decision to leave hadn’t set well with Joe. Rayna was like a sister to him, and his advice to Ty had been to give her more time—to wait her out until she got her head on straight and came home. Joe couldn’t possibly know how empty Ty’s life had been since she left and how every square inch of ground within the compound reminded him of her. He’d spent the first three weeks afraid she wouldn’t come home. After that, he’d been scared to death she would come home, and he’d have to see her and somehow find the strength to stay away from her.
“Good. Then let’s get started.” Joe returned to his desk and pressed a button on his keyboard, obviously taking Ty’s silence as agreement. “This was left at the gate this morning.”
Walker entered the study and closed the door. The three of them grouped around the computer monitor. A grainy video began to play.
Pain stabbed through Ty. Rayna’s arms and legs were bound to a wooden chair; her gaze continually darted over her shoulder but always returned to the small table beside her. He couldn’t see what was on the table, but whatever it was commanded her attention. A cut marred her usually perfect, pouty lips, and her tongue ran over them regularly. She twisted her wrists, testing her bindings every few seconds.
She’d cut her hair. It was much shorter than when he last saw her six weeks ago. New clothes. A new look. Dressed for a night out on the town. She’d fixed herself up to start a new life. He’d done just the opposite. His reddish hair, more blond now from the sun, had grown long and covered his ears, and a two-day stubble peppered his face. He wasn’t interested in a new life without her.
The image of her held captive in a darkened room, obviously afraid, ripped a hole in his heart and started him shaking with rage. This was his fault. If he’d left a long time ago, she’d still be safe.
Her dress was torn at the shoulder. One sleeve slid partway down her upper arm and her neckline gaped in front, displaying her lacy black bra. Ty’s anger ratcheted up a notch. Her legs were bare, as were her feet. She’d no doubt started the evening in heels, and he’d seen what she could do with a pair of stilettos. Grim satisfaction battled the despair that threatened to turn his heart to stone. His girl didn’t go down without a fight.
His girl? Where the hell did that come from?
On the screen, she jumped, and her breathing quickened. Footsteps sounded, and he pulled himself up straight as a man walked in front of her and stared directly into the camera for a second before he turned his attention to Rayna.
“See that? She doesn’t know she’s being filmed, but that bastard wants us to know exactly who he is.” Joe met Ty’s gaze questioningly.
Ty nodded in silent confirmation. Andre Komarov. Curly black hair, dark brown eyes, tall, tanned, a face the ladies seemed to appreciate. Ty should have killed the Russian Mafia general when he had the chance, instead of being a good cop. That had gained him absolutely nothing.
Andre stood in front of the small table, obviously being careful not to block the camera’s view of Rayna. He picked something up and held it in front of her. “Have you made your decision?” He turned just enough so the camera caught what he held.
Son of a bitch. Syringes. The lowlife was going to dope her up, or worse—give her an overdose. Helpless to look away, Ty gripped the desk to steady himself.
Rayna braced her elbows on the arms of the chair, and her blue eyes blazed with defiance. It took her a couple of tries to get any words out, but when she did, her voice was strong. “I don’t know what you think Ty can find for you, but I know him pretty well. If you have to
coerce him to do what you want, it must be something he’s not willing to find. I won’t be a part of it, so do your worst. Give me the megadose and get it over with.”
“Aw, shit.” Ty pushed off the desk, shoving it back six inches.
“Easy.” Joe placed a hand on his shoulder.
Ty should have realized Joe had already seen the video. If something had happened to Rayna, he wouldn’t let Ty stand here and watch her die. He ran a hand across the nape of his neck as he breathed out slowly. It didn’t change the fact, however, she was willing to die for him . . . for something she knew nothing about.
Her words didn’t surprise him. She was always too damn tough and stubborn for her own good. It was her sense of right and wrong that always seemed to get her in trouble. There were no gray areas in her world. That was why he never told her what had brought him to Joe’s compound.
Andre took a deep breath and turned, now clearly playing to the camera. “Very noble. I expected nothing less. Fortunately for you, your death at this time would be wasted.” He dropped one of the syringes, took the cover off the other, and jabbed it into Rayna’s arm.
A small cry escaped her, but she recovered quickly. “You snake.”
Andre laughed and pointed. “Smile for the camera, my dear. Your friends are watching us right now. Not only did you ask your Ty Whitlock to come and save you, but you gave an outstanding performance. I doubt if anyone could keep him away now.”
Rayna stared into the camera as understanding slowly dawned in her glazed eyes. “No, Ty. Don’t . . . not worth it.” Her head dropped toward her chest and her shoulders slumped.
“Oh, he will come, my dear, because next time we do this, you will die.” Andre looked into the camera again. “Twenty-four hours. That is how long you have to get here, Ty. I sent a file with instructions. Follow them to the letter, and Rayna will be fine.”
If You Only Knew Page 2
