Dangerous Surrender

by Katie Reus

  If his guy couldn’t catch her before she resurfaced he had a plan to run if the cops believed her. He didn’t think they would, but he was always prepared for a worst case scenario. Especially since he owed the Russian mob a shitload of money.

  As he stepped into the hallway of the executive offices, he nodded once at the patrolman standing guard outside Hugh’s office. They’d secured the area with tape and even though he’d told them that he would cut off access to this floor for everyone else, the police must have decided to leave a guard. The thought made him frown, but he shoved his unease aside and hurried to his own office.

  After shutting the door behind him, he rummaged in his desk for another burner phone and called his contact with a trembling hand. It’d been fucking hours since he’d been able to make contact and it was making him edgy.

  He picked up on the first ring. “Hey, boss.”

  “Tell me you have good news.” His office was secure, with good insulation. There was no way the cop down the hall could hear him and no one else was currently on this floor. It was the only reason he was talking to his contact.

  “Maybe. I called in a favor to one of my buddies at the PD. Narrowed down the reports of all the stolen vehicles around the time the target disappeared—”

  “Get to the point,” he snarled. His contact loved over-explaining what he did for Neal. He knew the guy was smart; it was why he used him. He didn’t need a play-by-play.

  There was a short pause, then he spoke with what sounded like gritted teeth. “There was a Pinto taken within a two block radius of where Hugh’s SUV was found. I’m just surprised the owner reported it stolen. Anyway, the car blew through a few tolls. I know because…never mind. I can’t know for certain but from the direction the car was going when it was pinged, compared against the addresses in her online address book, there’s a possibility she’s going to Vegas. She’s got one contact in Vegas and I remember her talking about missing a wedding there a few weeks ago because of that business trip.”

  “Head there now.” Taylor was smart and if she was running, she’d want to get some distance, but wouldn’t want to go too far. Because Taylor wouldn’t want to let Neal get away with hurting her precious mentor. And she wouldn’t go to a hotel or motel because she was too smart to use her credit cards. No, she’d want to go to ground somewhere she felt safe.

  “Hadn’t heard from you so I’m already on my way. Should be at the address in half an hour.”

  “Who’s the friend?”

  “It just says Vadim S in her company address book. It’s synced to her phone.” He sounded smug but Neal was the one who’d given him access to her employee files so it wasn’t as if he’d hacked into it.

  The name Vadim was familiar, but Neal couldn’t place it. Had the man done work for the company before? He frowned, wracking his brain, but shelved the name momentarily as he said, “Use any force necessary.”

  “What if she’s got back up?”

  “Everyone is expendable. If you have to do extra work, there’s a bonus in it for you.” He hated that he might have to pay his contact extra, especially when he needed all funds to go to the Russians or to his getaway stash. At least without Hugh around he wouldn’t have to worry about hiding his diverted funds. For a while at least he could siphon off larger amounts, maybe completely pay off the Russians now instead of using his payment plan.

  “Done. Going dark until I know if the target bolted here.”

  “Good. Don’t fuck this up.” He disconnected before his contact could respond. Perfect timing too. Escobar knocked even though he could see him clearly through the glass door of his office.

  Neal stood and motioned for Escobar and the two women to enter. They both looked nervous, but that was to be expected. He rarely talked to them because he had no reason to. They were in IT and he had limited communication with them.

  Pasting on what he hoped was an open, yet sad expression, he half-smiled at the women and motioned for them to sit in the seats in front of his desk. It was game time. He needed to know what Taylor had said to them. Even the smallest detail might give her away and he was determined to find her location at all costs.

  * * *

  Taylor looked up at the tall, incredibly sexy man she’d just sobbed all over like a complete maniac. He didn’t seem too bothered by it, but she couldn’t fight her embarrassment. She shouldn’t even care, not after everything she’d been through today, but the man with mismatched eyes looked at her as if he could see every single thought she had. One eye was brown and the other a bluish-green, the unique combination making her feel even more off-kilter.

  When she’d woken up with him crouching over her in the shower she’d completely lost it. Panic still hummed through her, that adrenaline blast in her system having barely faded at all. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry for trying to hit you with a vodka bottle.”

  To her surprise, his lips curved up the tiniest fraction. She wondered if it was his version of a smile. “I need to look at your wound before we head to the hospital. At least put a bandage over it so you don’t bleed through your clothes.”

  She looked at the truck stop clothes she’d discarded on the tiled floor of the bathroom. The sweatpants should be okay to wear again, but she’d bled through the shirt. It didn’t matter in the big scheme of things. Because Vadim was right. She wasn’t sure how long she’d slept in the shower, but she felt less fuzzy now. Enough so that she knew talking to the police in Vegas and at least documenting her injury was the smart thing. She couldn’t believe how out of it, how purely panicked she’d been. “Okay. If you know where Vadim’s First Aid kit is, I’ll grab it.”

  He just snorted and pointed to the marble-topped counter. “Sit there. I’ll be back.”

  Normally a forceful or demanding tone from a stranger would get a rise out of her, but it was a relief to let someone else take over. At least temporarily. Adrenaline might be jagging through her, but she was still weak and shaky. As he left the room, she grabbed the sweatpants off the floor and tugged them on. Then she held the towel up to her chest as she sat on the counter.

  Turning sideways, she looked at her exposed body in the mirror. The wound was still red and trickles of blood were still streaming down her side. Damn it, she’d probably get the blood on her pants now. She slid off the countertop as Roman walked back in with a small red and white kit in one of his big hands.

  “You doing okay?” he asked, his voice strong and soothing, taking away some of her edginess.

  She clutched the towel to her chest, not caring that her back was exposed. “Yeah. I just realized I shouldn’t have put my sweatpants on so soon. Not until after I patch up.”

  He nodded and turned around. “Strip ’em and tell me when you’re ready.”

  She blinked at that tone that brooked no argument. “You can just leave the kit with me.”

  “It makes more sense for me to bandage you. The wound is in an uncomfortable place.” He shrugged. “But you can do what you want.”

  She liked that he wasn’t pushing her, his actions making her trust him more than words ever could. “You’re right. Hold on.” She shimmied the pants off before hopping back up on the counter. Her back and part of her butt were visible in the mirror as she held the towel over her front and around her non-wounded side, but she didn’t have enough energy to care about partial nudity at this point.

  When he turned around, he paused for a second, his gaze sweeping over her in a very non-clinical fashion. He did it so quickly she wondered if he was even aware of it. A moment later, he was at her side. If Vadim vouched for him, she was going to trust him. There was something intrinsically solid about him too. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there it was, the most primal part of her brain telling her she’d be safe with this man. Not that he in any way or shape seemed safe. No, he had a dangerous edge to him, but he wouldn’t hurt her.

  “Hold your arm up while I clean your wound, okay?” he asked in a surprisingly gentle voice.
<
br />   She did as he said, watching as he opened the kit.

  “So Neal Lynch is the name of the man who shot you?” he asked as he began pulling out antiseptic and bandages.

  “Vadim told you his last name?” She looked away from him, facing forward as she spoke.

  “Yeah. This might sting for a second, but I’m going to clean the wound.”

  “It won’t hurt more than getting shot,” she muttered.

  Roman laughed, the bold sound taking her off guard, rolling through her like a warm, soothing balm. “You’re right about that. And you’re damn lucky that Lynch fucker wasn’t a better shot. I don’t even think you’ll need stitches.”

  “Have you ever had stitches?” she asked, mainly just to make conversation and steer away from talking about Neal. Even thinking about that monster, the way he’d gunned down Hugh, made her throat tighten and tears well up again. She didn’t want to have another breakdown. Not yet. Not until Neal was behind bars.

  Roman let out a short chuckle as he put something cool on her wound. “Yeah. Too many times to count.”

  “From your time in the Marines?” She bit back a hiss as he laid the bandage over her wound. The contact made all the muscles in her body tighten.

  “I got a few there too, but mostly from growing up with a brother in the South. We spent a lot of time outdoors and bruises, cuts, and broken bones just seemed to happen.” He paused and looked up at her as his long fingers still held the bandage in place.

  Turning, she looked at him. “What?”

  “There’s no tape in the kit, just a wrap to secure the bandage.” He held up a small roll of gauzy, cling roll. “I’m going to need to wrap this around you to keep the bandage in place.”

  “Okay…oh.” It took her a moment to realize what he was saying. He’d already seen her naked and it was probably the blood loss, but she was beyond caring if he saw her naked again. Okay, she didn’t care too much. “Turn away for a second.”

  When he turned his head, she dropped the towel onto her lap so she was partially covered and crossed her arm over her breasts.

  Moving quickly, he secured the bandage around her middle, his callused fingers grazing over her skin with efficiency. She found herself oddly disappointed that his hands didn’t linger. Which yeah, told her all she needed to know about her mindset right now. She needed sleep and a hospital. And probably some food considering she’d barely eaten in days. When he was done, he turned away again so she could pull her pants back on. As she straightened, she swayed a little, but recovered quickly, clutching onto the counter with her free hand as she held the towel to her chest.

  But Roman didn’t miss a thing. His eyebrows drew together as he slid an arm around her waist and under her legs. She nearly let out a yelp as he lifted her off the ground. She lifted the towel up to partially cover herself.

  “What are you doing?” A thread of panic slid through her veins. Vadim trusted this man and Roman had shown himself to be nothing but kind, if a little bossy, since finding her in his friend’s home. But she couldn’t fight off her internal distress.

  “You look as if you’re about to pass out on your feet,” he said, striding from the bathroom. “So I’m getting you food and one of Angel’s shirts before we head to the hospital. Unless you want to wear your bloody one?” He glanced down at her as he made his way out into the bedroom, the look in his eyes unreadable.

  Taylor shook her head and curled into him, hooking her arm around his neck and burrowing a little closer. He sucked in a breath, the action barely noticeable but being impossibly close she didn’t miss it.

  His jaw clenched tight as he set her at one of the high-backed chairs at the island in the kitchen. Without looking at her, he turned and strode from the room, the bulge of his weapon visible at his back. Even though she couldn’t see it, she knew it was a gun. It didn’t matter that he was clearly trained, the sight made her shiver. She wrapped her arms over her breasts as she waited, but luckily he didn’t take long.

  Less than a minute later he returned with a long-sleeved, black T-shirt with a small Nike symbol on it. It looked like a workout shirt. “You’re a little smaller than Angel but this should fit. I just grabbed the first thing I could find.” He seemed a little uncomfortable as he set it on the counter next to her.

  She started to thank him, but then his entire body pulled taut, a frown pulling at his already harsh-looking mouth. “Put the shirt on,” he ordered as he withdrew his gun.

  Fear spiked through her. He seemed on alert for some reason. She watched as he strode toward the door that led to the utility room with the grace of a jungle predator. She’d never seen anyone so big move with such incredible fluidity. Without pause she tugged the T-shirt on, wincing as she had to lift her hands up to pull it over her head. She might be smaller than Angel, but her breasts were clearly bigger. The shirt pulled across her chest, making it clear that she didn’t have a bra on, but no way was she putting hers back on. Part of it had dried blood on it and she wasn’t sure if it would rub against the bandage.

  Worried about why Roman had gone out to the garage, she headed for the utility room. Two loud pops from somewhere made her jump.

  Gunfire.

  Fear for Roman’s safety punched through her as she raced out the door.

  Chapter 5

  Roman slowly exited the utility room into the garage, the low hum of an engine from outside clear. At first he hadn’t been sure he’d heard anything, but now it was unmistakable.

  Weapon drawn, he hurried to the partially-open garage door. The Pinto blocked his legs so he used it for cover as he laid on the ground and peered out. Behind the beater car and to the right of his truck he saw wheels.

  He slipped out under the left side of the garage and used the Pinto as cover as he crept along the side of it. Still crouching low, he looked through the windows and saw an SUV. Though the windows were tinted, the sun was setting behind it so he could see inside well enough. One man was outlined in the driver’s seat, but no one else was visible.

  The driver’s door opened and a man got out. A ball cap was pulled low over his forehead but stray sandy-blond hair peeked out under the sides. From what Roman could see he had on a long-sleeved, brown shirt. Sunglasses covered his eyes, hiding a good portion of his face, as he looked around, scanning the property. He stepped out from around the protection of the SUV, rounding the front of it.

  Keeping his weapon lowered, Roman stood, using the Pinto as a barrier. “Who are you?”

  The man tensed, but didn’t make any sudden moves as he zeroed in on Roman. “I’m looking for Vadim. You him?”

  Vadim didn’t give many people his address. Hell, Roman was pretty sure he even had packages delivered to his office at The Serafina. So a stranger shouldn’t have it. “How’d you get this address?”

  The man took a slight step back toward the driver’s door. It was subtle, but Roman noted it.

  “Get off this property before I call the police,” he continued when the man didn’t move.

  The man’s body language changed, the nuances small but Roman watched as he stilled, his body taut. He didn’t like pinning his weapon on anyone, but his gut told him it was necessary. He lifted his arm, aiming it at the guy’s center mass. “I won’t tell you again. Get the fuck out of here. Now.”

  The man paused once before hurrying to the driver’s door. Roman kept his weapon trained on him the entire time. The engine was still running so the driver got in and reversed. As he did, he turned the vehicle back so that the driver’s side faced Roman. The sunlight glinted off the windshield, making him flinch.

  He took a step to the side, back toward the garage to avoid being blinded, when he saw that the driver’s side window was down. He couldn’t see a weapon and wasn’t going to open fire on someone without just cause. But instinct had him taking cover behind the car.

  Pop. Pop.

  Two thunking sounds on the garage door spurred him into action. Rolling under the door, he shifted so that th
e position of the Pinto gave him cover. Standing, he slammed the garage door down. The sound of screeching tires told him the guy was leaving. But for how long? And did he have backup? Roman wasn’t sticking around like a sitting duck waiting to find out. He’d call the cops but only as soon as he got Taylor away from here and to the hospital. Racing toward the utility room, he hurried inside.

  Taylor started to swing a broom handle at him, but froze with the end of it in midair, her arm dropping to her side. Her blue eyes were wide as she scanned him, likely for wounds. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  He hooked his hand under her elbow and steered her into the kitchen. “Man who said he was looking for Vadim shot at me before racing off. Sandy-blond hair, medium build, maybe five-eleven. Driving a black SUV. Ring any bells?”

  She bit her bottom lip as she moved with him, clutching the broom tightly in her hand. “Maybe. Gordon Simpson is the man I saw at the police station. He’s got blond hair, but it’s pretty light. And I don’t know how tall he is. Taller than me.”

  He snorted. “Most people are probably taller than you.”

  To his surprise, she laughed, the musical quality of it taking him off guard. “True.”

  “Grab all your blood-stained clothes and anything you need to take with you. We’re not coming back here,” he informed her, gently pushing her toward the bedroom as he made his way to the foyer.

  Vadim’s house was all glass, wood and high ceilings with exposed beams. Roman knew he had a special film over his windows that made it difficult to see inside. The foyer was one of the best vantage points because of the long, slim windows on the sides of the front door. So Roman surveyed the front yard, driveway, and all he saw was dust kicking up in the distance where the SUV had fled.

  There was a risk leaving with Taylor, but it was calculated. Because if they stayed, they had a higher chance of being attacked. Roman knew there was a definite potential for an ambush as they left the property but he didn’t think it would happen. A single man had shown up, obviously not expecting Roman to be here and ready for him. No, the guy would be leaving and regrouping and possibly getting more backup. Roman didn’t want to stay here and find out. There were just too many unknowns at this point. He turned away front the window at the sound of Taylor approaching.