by Misty Evans
He liked women—girls, really—tied to a bed, begging for mercy. Charlotte swallowed the bile in her throat. “Oh, I’m ready to fight you, you worthless bastard.”
His hand shot out to slap her again and she caught his wrist with one hand and punched him in the nose with the other.
He howled, more from surprise than pain, she imagined, and fell sideways. At the same time, the door opened and the guard came back with Madeena.
“Sarah!” The girl rushed forward, crying Charlotte’s alias name as Charlotte forced herself to sit up. Madeena threw her arms around Charlotte’s neck, her hug nearly taking Charlotte back down to the ground. “I thought you were dead.”
I am.
A backhand from Nico sent the girl to the floor before Charlotte could whisk her out of the way. He screamed obscenities at Charlotte, or maybe his vitriol was for both of them. It was hard to tell.
He caught Charlotte with a kick from his booted foot, hitting her in the side. Her angry ribs roared. Orlo’s kick had already left them sore; the roll in the Jeep hadn’t helped. With Nico’s kick, she crumpled forward and found it hard to breathe. Blood from the stab wound in her arm warmed her skin and ran down to her wrist.
She lifted her head and pinned Norris with a glare as she crawled toward Madeena, who cried softly on the floor. “I won’t let you take the girl.”
He smirked at Nico’s bleeding nose and then at her. “How exactly do you think you’re going to stop me?”
Good question. She had no idea. If only she had a wand and the Avada Kedavra spell was actually a real thing. She’d avada kedavra his arse all over the place.
She did know a couple of Gypsy spells. They were more for shriveling up someone’s balls or giving him hives, but what the hell?
Nico kicked her in the back this time, sending her into Madeena. She lowered her voice—she could barely breathe anyway—and whispered in the girl’s ear. “Be ready to run when I give you the signal.”
The girl stopped crying, and Charlotte mumbled under her breath, nonsense words, but what did she care? Norris didn’t know the jib, the language of her mother’s people. Just like she had with Ted in San Diego, she let the darkness of her soul shine forth as she moved her mouth and pinned her eyes on Norris.
Nico was still blustering about his nose, one of his men rushing to get him an ice pack and something to stem the flow of blood.
Norris narrowed his eyes at Charlotte. “Speak up, Carstons. I can’t hear you.”
At that moment, Nico’s man returned with the ice pack and a box of tissues.
Charlotte replicated the smirk CB had given her earlier. “That’s because all the blood in your system is hardening. I just cursed you using a very old, very powerful Romani spell. You won’t be able to hear or see in a few minutes and your balls will shrivel up and fall off.”
The guard’s eyes widened and he took a step back, shooting a nervous glance at Norris and sliding covertly behind Nico as if his boss could ward off Gypsy curses.
“You’re so full of shit,” CB said, rolling his eyes. “Just like your mother. No one believes in that crap, Carstons. Stop demeaning yourself with hocus pocus nonsense.”
But everyone in the room was watching him as if they were afraid not to believe it. The mind was a powerful thing. Madeena, the guard at the door, Nico and his man. All of them were staring at CB Norris as if watching a lab rat for signs of disease.
He shifted under everyone’s scrutiny and waved his bloody handkerchief around. “What the fuck are you looking at?”
“Your nose is no longer bleeding,” Nico said.
“So what? It finally stopped bleeding. On its own, not because some stupid ass curse is making my blood harden. Jesus, you people are gullible.”
He strutted forward and reached out to grab Madeena. Charlotte ignored the fire rippling through her body and kicked a foot out, connecting with his knee.
Her movements were slow and labored, giving him time dodge to the side, her kick barely brushing his leg. Maddy grabbed onto her and Charlotte hugged her tight. “Touch her and you’ll regret it.”
Nico stepped forward and grabbed Charlotte by her hair again, yanking her back. At the same time, Norris grabbed Madeena by the arm.
“No!” Charlotte yelled, swinging a fist backward in Nico’s direction as Madeena was wrenched from her, crying out and reaching out her hand.
Charlotte’s fist struck Nico in the shoulder, but he only laughed and jerked her hair again.
A loud boom went off, far in the distance. The men all paused and looked at each other. Commotion arose outside in the courtyard. Nico jerked his chin at the guard. “Go see what the trouble is.”
The man ran out.
Charlotte scrambled, reaching forward and grabbing Maddy’s hand, but Norris’ pull on the girl was too strong. He yanked her away.
Tears in her eyes from the stinging in her scalp, Charlotte continued to fight, punching and kicking at Nico as Norris shoved the girl toward the door.
“You won’t get away with this,” Charlotte yelled, her ribs on fire, her hair being pulled from her scalp. “If it’s the last thing I do, I will make you pay for everything.”
CB looked back at her and shook his head as if she were a sad, pitiful sight. “And how do you think you’re going to do that, Carstons? With magic? Some stupid Gypsy curse?”
She was just about to tell him to go to hell when the side wall exploded.
SEAL MISSIONS WERE usually quiet, covert affairs. Stealth and accuracy was the name of the game. No guns blazing warfare. No calling attention to themselves.
SFI missions were the same. Most were rescue missions. Get in, grab the target, get out.
Tonight, the unofficial SFI gang going after Charlotte was on a rescue mission, but not all of them were going in quietly.
The Zeb Special involved a three-tiered approach. Distraction, diversion, and division. While Miles would have preferred the covert SEAL way of grabbing Charlotte and getting the hell out of Romania, Zeb’s plan to take Bourean’s compound by surprise attack had merit. Parker tallied twelve minions, four security cameras—one in each corner—and little to no one out and about because of the storm.
Zeb had laid out the parameters; Miles had taken lead by putting his own spin on the infiltration.
For one, Bourean was going to eat shit if Miles had anything to say about it.
Two, Norris was going to join Bourean at the shit table.
Miles put Trace Hunter in charge of activating the first layer of the Zeb Special, walking right up to the front gate and unloading the RPG.
Hunter was a machine. As he calmly set down the case, unlocked it, and readied the weapon, the guards at the gate went crazy. They yelled at him, demanding to know who he was, guns drawn.
Once they saw the long, black rocket and Hunter loading the warhead on the end, they started shooting.
Hunter never even flinched. He set that puppy on his shoulder and took a wide-legged stance, all the while bullets dancing at his feet in the snow.
Men dove off the guardhouse. Others ran screaming away from the gated entrance. Some managed to get away, but most weren’t lucky enough to escape the explosion that tore through the front of the compound. Miles had a nice view of the action from his spot on the west parapet after Parker had given him the exact location where to breach the southeast wall.
“Wish I had popcorn,” Parker said, her breath fogging the air.
“Wish I had another RPG,” Miles replied.
Before stealing out into the night to take up their positions around the compound, they’d had a group chat with Beatrice back at HQ. She’d been in touch with MI6, informed them of the situation, and pulled a few strings. A team of SIS would be there soon to back up the Shadow Force squad. Andy Hardy, no longer in the States, was prepared to arrest Bourean and take Norris into custody.
Of course, Miles’ gun might accidentally go off and shoot both men in the ass before the Brits got their hands on them.
“Get me proof that Norris set up Agent Carstons,” Beatrice had told Miles over the video connection in the van. “Otherwise, I can’t help with her MI6 issue.”
There was no proof that Miles knew of. Only a confession from Norris would get Charlotte off the hook. Good thing Miles knew a few tricks for getting bastards to talk.
But if that didn’t work…
With Parker covering him, Miles made his way down a secret passage that connected the parapet to the ground floor. He emerged, keeping his hood up and hanging low over his forehead as men ran past him on their way to the destroyed gate and guardhouse. A fire had started in a far section of the courtyard, thanks to Jax who was a whiz at flammables and the fact that a large portion of the castle was made of wood. With Parker’s voice in his ear guiding him, Miles found the section of the main castle where they believed Charlotte was being held. One grenade later, he’d blown a hole in a wall.
Debris rained down, shouts went up. Someone inside started shooting at the opening. “That’s right guys,” he muttered under his breath. “Keep your eyes on that hole.”
From the front of the compound, Miles heard the distant sounds of alarms and more gunfire. He worked his way around to the arched doorway to see who might be coming out. Bourean wouldn’t stay in a room under siege. He wouldn’t leave Charlotte in there either.
Sure enough, there was a man tugging a woman out of the room when Miles peeked around the corner. But it wasn’t Bourean and Charlotte.
Norris. The guy’s bald head had a few scratches on it, one of his pant legs was torn. He had hold of a young girl, who was sobbing and crying, and he shoved her out of the room toward an exit. “Go!” he was yelling. “Move your worthless ass.”
Miles needed to stop Norris, but all he could think of was Charlotte, still in that room.
He was about to move on Norris when Charlotte bolted from the room, chasing after the girl. “You can’t have her!”
Miles’ heart froze inside his chest. “Charlotte!”
She was hurt, lurching to one side. Blood had soaked through her coat on her upper arm, her hair was dirty and wet. He called her name again over the din of noise from outside, but she didn’t hear him as another man emerged on her heels, gun drawn and pointed at the back of her head.
Miles moved without thought, instincts firing into full throttle.
Charlotte hit Norris from behind, shoving him away from the girl. The girl threw herself at Charlotte and Charlotte grabbed her, hugging her to her side as she tried to run with her. Bourean launched himself at Charlotte, swinging his gun and catching her at the base of her neck.
Charlotte’s body seized and then crumpled.
“No!” Miles was on top of Bourean before the man knew what hit him, his vision white with rage. He wrapped his arms around the guy’s neck and took him down to the ground. The gun went off, the bullet ricocheting off the plaster ceiling before they landed.
The guy was scrappy but Miles had the superior strength and training. He broke his wrist, freeing the gun, then banged his head into the floor until the man went limp.
When he looked up, Charlotte was still on the floor, unmoving. Norris and the girl had disappeared.
“Bourean’s down,” he said into his comm as he crawled over to Charlotte’s body. “Norris is on the run. Has a young girl with him. Don’t let him get away.”
“Roger that,” came the replies, and then a question from Zeb who was watching and listening from the van. “What about our asset?”
Blood ran freely into her hair from a cut on the back of her neck at the base of her skull. Miles turned her gently so she was lying on her back. She was as pale as the snow outside, her bottom lip swollen. He checked her pulse and felt it thready under his fingertips. “Alive, but in serious condition.”
Gunfire off to his left had him crouching farther over her body to protect her. A moment later, Jax came running into view. “What happened?” he said, kneeling beside her and brushing Miles’ hands away. “Was she shot?”
Blood pooled on the floor, coating his fingers and seeping under his knees. “She took a hit to the back of her head. Cut open her scalp. She has a bleeding wound on her left deltoid. She came out of the room holding her ribs and dragging her left leg.”
Jax pulled some supplies from his deep coat pockets and started wrapping her head. “We need a gurney to haul her out of here.”
“A gurney’s not viable,” Zeb said in their ears. “Stabilize her and get the hell out of there. Coldplay and Jett can’t cover you much longer.”
Alarms were going off all over the place, probably from the fire Jax had started. In all the commotion, no one seemed to realize their leader was down for the count.
“Roger that,” Miles said, wondering how the hell he was going stabilize Charlotte and haul ass in the next few seconds.
Jax wiggled his fingers at Miles. “Give me your hat.”
Miles handed him the knit hat and watched as Jax put it over Charlotte’s head, strapping it down tight with wide gauze. Miles held her hands, trying to warm them. They were so cold, they felt like ice cubes. Bright red marks showed on her wrists as if she’d been cuffed.
“Get me a blanket,” Jax said. “Something sturdy that we can roll her up in.”
Miles didn’t want to let go of her hands, but he did, giving them a hard squeeze before he released her and headed for the room. He was three steps from her and Jax when a guy with an M4 came barreling around the corner.
Instinct took over again, and as the guy pulled up short at the sight of Bourean on the ground, Miles pulled his gun and shot him in the chest.
Man down.
With no time to lose, he scooted into the room, spotting an expensive wool rug with a fancy design on it in the center of the wooden floor.
Shoving the coffee table off, Miles jerked on the large, heavy rug, but got nowhere. It was anchored under a couple of chairs on one side and a couch on the other. Frustration burning through his veins, he did a linebacker move, hitting the couch full force and toppling it over. Then he turned and kicked each of the chairs off the rug.
Flipping it up and over, he folded it a couple of times and hauled it out of the room.
“Does anyone have eyes on Norris?” Zeb said in their comms.
Hunter and Parker both responded with nos.
Fuck. Miles would have punched the wall if he hadn’t been concentrating on helping Jax position Charlotte on one end of the rug. Slowly, they began to roll her up.
When they finished, Jax helped him lift her up onto his shoulder, fireman-style. “Asset is secure,” Miles told the group. “Now find me a clear path out of here.”
“Go back to the secret passage,” came Parker’s reply. “Take a left instead of a right and you’ll come to the back entrance I snuck you in through earlier. I’ll have you covered.”
“Roger that,” Miles said and patted Charlotte’s unconscious body. “Let’s get you out of here, Agent Butter.”
Chapter Twenty
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CHARLOTTE FOUGHT THROUGH the heavy waves of pain and darkness. She was so damn cold again and a part of her just wanted to let go. Let go of the pain, let the darkness swallow her.
Nico. The castle. The images came in fits and starts, making her gasp. She’d been here before. She’d sworn she’d never let him do this to her again, and yet here she was, body broken, spirit crushed. Why not just give up? What was there to live for?
Miles.
She’d heard him call her name, hadn’t she?
Had to be a trick of her mind. Miles was gone. She would never see him again.
Tears ran from the corners of her eyes. Hot and messy and she hated the world for a moment.
Pressing through the darkness, she tried to remember more. Madeena had been there, calling her Sarah, but in her mind, she heard Miles again. She was sure she had heard his voice calling her name
.
In fact, through the pain buzzing in every cell of her body, she thought she could hear him saying her name right now.
Maybe I’ve already died and gone to heaven. Miles was there to meet her. A lovely thought, but surely heaven, or whatever afterlife there was, wasn’t filled with so much cold and pain.
“Charlotte.”
There it was again, the voice she loved with its slight southern accent.
“Charlie, can you hear me?”
Charlie? Miles never called her that, only her friends back in school had ever used that nickname. Friends, who one by one, deserted her after she claimed her mother was killed. Friends who treated her like she had a disease after she came out of the mental hospital.
This afterlife was really screwed up if this was some version of heaven.
She felt someone take her hand. Life seeped into her fingers, warmth, support.
“Come on, Charlotte. Wake up for me.”
She wanted to wake up, but her eyes refused to obey the command to open. What if this was all a trick? What if the voice she was hearing wasn’t real?
It can’t be Miles. Miles is dead.
Man, God had a wicked sense of humor.
If she kept her eyes closed, maybe the voice would keep talking to her and she could pretend Miles was alive. She wanted more of that voice, more of the heat warming her hand. She could forget about the pain and the darkness if she just had those two things to anchor onto.
She’d never told him that she loved him. So many missed opportunities. What had she been waiting for? She, out of anyone, knew how easily a life could be snuffed out. How someone you love could be taken away in the blink of an eye.
Parting her lips, she took a deep breath. A fresh wave of pain shot through her ribs and she winced. “I love you, Miles,” she said on a tremulous exhale.
Fingers brushed across her cheek. “I love you, too, sweetheart. Now, open them pretty eyes for me.”
