Hard Core (Onyx Group)

by Jennifer Lowery

  Still shaking from almost being left alone by the man who’d turned her life upside down, Alana pressed closer to Cristian, needing to feel his warmth. This ordeal had been one nightmare after another. The thought of returning to civilization for the first time in years terrified her. The thought of doing it without him scared her even more.

  “We’re clear.” Sarver laid his weapon across his lap and closed the door to block the wind.

  Alana dropped her hands to her lap and willed her limbs to relax. She was coiled tight. Adrenaline pumped through her veins.

  “So how’d she get the drop on you, Mercer?” Sarver shouted over the noise of the chopper.

  Alana looked at Mercer.

  “She about broke my wrist.” Mercer sounded more amused than angry. “Benefit of being a doctor, huh, Alana? You know where the weakest bones are.”

  The man had a sixth sense, because he was dead on. She’d gone for his wrist when he grabbed her, knowing the bone was weak and would snap easily. Not that she would have broken it, but he didn’t know that. If it meant getting off the helicopter and to Cristian, she may have tried.

  Good God, she had turned into one of them.

  Noticing a blood stain on Mercer’s right side, she frowned. She’d elbowed him in the ribs and grabbed his wrist, not hard enough to make him bleed. “You’re injured.” Alana rose from her seat.

  Mercer held up a hand to stop her.

  She pushed it aside and knelt in front of him. “I’ve about had it with tough guys,” she warned.

  “Just let her treat you,” Cristian yelled. “It’s easier.”

  Mercer stared down at her as she rolled up his t-shirt, not trying to stop her. Wise man. She really was tired of battling stubborn men.

  “You’ve been stabbed,” she said. “How long have you been bleeding?” That hit to the ribs she’d given him must have hurt like hell. She regretted it now.

  “You got stabbed?” Sarver asked, leaning over Alana’s shoulder to look. “That’s a first.”

  “The fifth took me by surprise,” Mercer groused.

  “Fifth?” Alana repeated, startled. “You went against five men alone?” Protecting her and Dave, she thought guiltily. She cast a chiding glance at Sarver and Cristian. “How could you let him fight five men alone?”

  Sarver frowned and glanced at Cristian, who only shook his head.

  Mercer shrugged. “Just patch me up, Doc.”

  “I need a First Aid kit,” she said to Cristian, who had dark circles under his eyes and looked a bit worn himself.

  Sarver opened a compartment under his seat and handed it to her. She’d thought it was him bleeding in the car, but it had been Mercer. And he hadn’t said a word.

  “Are all mercenaries stubborn idiots?” she asked, tearing open a packet of gauze pads. When no one answered, she turned her attention to Mercer. “You could have bled to death. The knife he used was serrated on one side. You need stitches.”

  “I can do it myself.”

  Alana pinned him with a hard stare. “I’m a doctor. I’m qualified.”

  “So am I.”

  “Oh? What medical school did you go to?”

  His face hardened and she knew she didn’t want to know where he’d learned. It would probably scare her.

  “That’s what I thought.” She finished cleaning the wound. Mercer’s abs were rock solid, rippled, and his hip muscles were model worthy. Once she got past the unusual color of his eyes she could see what a beautiful man he was. Not hard and rugged like Cristian. No, Mercer was more sculpted, like a Roman god. Yet, being this close to him didn’t make her heart speed up or her belly tighten. Not like Cristian. Even after making love all night, she still wanted him every time she looked at him. Her sex drive had certainly never spiked like this before. She’d never done the things she did with Cristian with any other man. Never wanted to. Her body ached, just remembering.

  Pushing those thoughts away before anyone noticed, she braced herself against the rock and sway of the chopper and prepared the site for stitches.

  “You guys are mercenaries?” Dave asked.

  “Stubborn, foolish ones,” Alana muttered, wiping Mercer’s smooth tanned skin with antiseptic.

  “I thought you were bodyguards,” Dave said.

  Sarver answered. “We are now.”

  Alana glanced at Dave. Deathly pale, but not as terrified. He had to know by now these men were allies, not enemies. They had done nothing but protect them.

  Returning to her task, she threaded a needle. “Here’s a pinch,” she warned and pierced his skin. He didn’t flinch or even seem to notice as she put three stitches in the best she could with the less than perfect conditions. The helicopter rode rough, not smooth like a plane. And much louder. She used that as her excuse for imperfect stitches, not the fact her hands were shaking the entire time.

  Disturbed by the thought she may never perform surgery again if her hands didn’t stop trembling, Alana put a bandage over the stitches and packed away her stuff. Mercer pulled down his shirt, watching her with those all-seeing golden eyes. Unwilling to let him see inside her, she quickly handed the kit back to Sarver and returned to her seat.

  Cristian frowned.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Fine,” she lied and turned to look out the window. For the first time since she’d met him, Cristian’s taciturn nature suited her. She didn’t want to talk right now. She wanted to curl up and sleep through the rest of this bad dream. One she would wake from and find everything as it should be.

  But as she watched the passing sky she knew this was real and she couldn’t go back. Only forward into the unknown, uncertain future.

  She closed her eyes to avoid conversation and let herself dream of another time, a happier time, when she knew who she was, and what she wanted. Because there she wouldn’t have to face her past. Her failures. And the fact she would never be a surgeon again, even if she wanted to. Not after what Gavin put her through.

  Fighting tears, she pressed her hands between her knees and wondered if they would ever stop shaking.

  Chapter 15

  Alana suffered in silence. Proof was written in the tense lines of her face where she slept on Slade’s shoulder. Like a fool, he wanted to kiss it better, but what ailed her couldn’t be fixed that easily. He couldn’t take away her pain. He could eliminate the source, not the aftermath.

  To do that, he had to get away from her. An impossible task so far. He hadn’t expected her to stop him from going after Ross. She’d wanted his bloodshed while on his boat. She’d wanted vengeance.

  Now, en route to the city, his mission was incomplete. He wasn’t fool enough to believe Ross wouldn’t track Alana down. The man would stop at nothing to find her. She held value if he decided to keep her, and a threat if he didn’t. That put her life in immediate danger.

  And his mission on temporary hold.

  A complication he didn’t want or need. He wanted to fulfill this contract and move on to the next. Alana and his teammates would invade his penthouse. No one had ever been there. No one had ever been in any of his houses. They were his and he didn’t like sharing his space. He liked being alone. Liked the security of it.

  Alana moaned in her sleep and curled into his side. That moan went straight to his groin, reminding him how vocal she was when she…damn. He looked up to find Mercer watching him with a thoughtful expression. Slade sent him a warning glare and leaned his head back against the wall. He didn’t need Mercer’s insight. No one had to tell him that sleeping with Alana was a mistake. That it made this personal and intimate, a recipe for disaster. Intimate got a guy like him distracted. Personal could get him killed.

  He could afford neither. Not with Ross on the loose and Alana a target.

  He should have made her go without him. Should have stuck to his guns. Never should have watched her bathe half-naked in her hut that night. Never should have taken this assignment in the first place.
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  But, he had, and it brought him to Alana. A woman who stirred things inside him he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Terrifying things he didn’t want to feel at the same time he craved them.

  Not since Mariette, had he felt this. Even then, with her, it hadn’t been like this. This was stronger, more of an addiction he couldn’t shake.

  Hell.

  Slade pushed all thoughts aside to catch a few minutes of sleep. He would need it for the difficult task that lie ahead. He had to dispatch Gavin Ross or this would never end. And he had to do it without Alana at his side.

  Just how the hell was he going to leave her?

  * * * *

  “Dave, I’m sorry for…what I almost did,” Alana said quietly to the man she had almost killed. They stood on a landing pad in a remote area of Wyoming. The exact location was a secret no one would tell her. Cristian would only tell her they were on Sam Ryden’s property. And since tall pines surrounded them on all sides, it was impossible to see anything.

  The men were talking near the helicopter, giving Alana the chance to speak privately to Dave. They were going in separate directions and she might never see him again, so she needed to say this.

  Dave sent her an uncomfortable look and she shook her head. “No, let me say this. You deserve to know. I…I’m not that person you saw holding that scalpel. I had no choice--”

  Dave put a hand on her arm to stop her. “You don’t have to explain,” he said. “It’s okay. I know you now. Please, can’t we just put it in the past and forget it? I really need to forget.”

  Alana smiled at him. “I understand. Consider it forgotten.” For him, anyway. She would certainly never forget.

  Cristian approached, glancing between them. Always protecting her, she thought wistfully. She’d never been fanciful or wished for a knight in shining armor to come rescue her. Never needed or even wanted a man to save the day. Her mother always told her she had an abundance of tenacity and independence. Alana supposed she did, since Cristian’s caveman techniques annoyed her most times. Some women would fawn over his attention and over-protectiveness. Today, it irritated her.

  Or maybe being here, back in civilization made her short-tempered. Fear of the unknown tended to do that to her. She liked being in control of her destiny, knowing who she was and where she was going.

  This terrified her.

  “Time to go,” Cristian said to Dave. “Sarver is waiting in the truck for you.”

  Dave nodded, squeezed Alana’s hand, and jogged for the muddy truck parked near the chopper. Another, older, beat up pickup stood beside it. Mercer leaned casually against the hood. Ryden still sat in the helicopter.

  She watched him go. Definitely not the same man she’d seen on that gurney. This man was more confident. Which could still lead to death if Gavin Ross were to find him. He’d have to get past Cristian’s team first, not an easy feat, but not impossible. They were only men. Not superheroes.

  Dave had forgiven her. It humbled her beyond words. She didn’t deserve his forgiveness. What she’d almost done deserved no mercy. If Cristian hadn’t cut the power, she would have killed Dave. That, she could never forgive herself for. No matter her reasons for doing it.

  She watched Dave climb in the truck next to Sarver and disappear down the narrow road through the trees.

  “He’ll be safe in Louisiana?” she asked Cristian, watching the truck’s taillights vanish around a bend.

  “Yes.”

  “We’re leaving for Chicago?”

  “In the morning. We’re staying the night here.”

  She looked around. “Where’s here?”

  “Ryden’s ranch. There’s an issue he needs to take care of first.”

  “An issue?”

  “With the ranch.”

  “And you think we’re safe here?”

  “Yes.”

  Alana let out a slow breath and wrapped her arms around her waist. This was all so new for her. Uncomfortable. Unfamiliar.

  “Ross won’t track us here,” Cristian said. “At least not right away. We can stay one night.”

  “And then we go to your penthouse.”

  “Yes.”

  “What makes your penthouse safer than this place? There’s nothing but trees for miles and it’s in the middle of nowhere.”

  “My penthouse can’t be traced back to me.”

  “I see. And why is that?”

  “Deeply buried paperwork.”

  “Oh.” A shudder worked its way down her spine. This man she’d known so intimately was a stranger to her. He lived in a covert, secretive world in which she had no place. She had her share of secrets, but his would probably terrify her.

  Was the penthouse in one of the names he’d mumbled in his sleep? Some in English, others in languages she didn’t recognize. Probably better to not know.

  “Well, I’ve never been on a ranch before.” She tried to make light of a situation.

  “It’s only for one night.”

  Alana nodded. It would help for him to put his arms around her and hold her so she didn’t feel so alone. Dammit. Why did she have to need him, of all people? She’d never needed anyone like this before. She’d always stood on her own two feet without assistance. Always plowed through when things got tough. Why did she long for Cristian to take her in his arms and make her forget her fears? What was it about this gruff, dark man that made her want things she shouldn’t?

  “Ryden is ready to go.”

  She glanced at the helicopter to see Sam close the doors and stride toward the beat-up pickup truck. A work truck, she guessed. No sense standing around waiting to wake up from this nightmare. There was no end in sight.

  “We better go then.” She took a step in that direction. Cristian caught her arm and stopped her.

  “Alana.”

  She didn’t turn to look at him because she didn’t want him to see how much she needed him.

  “Look at me,” he ordered softly.

  “We have to go. Sam is in the truck waiting.”

  With a tiny jerk he pulled her around to face him, studying her closely. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”

  He thought she was worried about Gavin. If only it were that simple. Unwilling to share her weakness, her grief and misery, she nodded.

  She rode in silence to the ranch scrunched between Cristian and Sam. The old truck had no backseat and smelled of leather and horses. It rode like a tank and bounced her off the two men like a jumping bean. Not that she minded, it gave her a chance to be close to Cristian without having to admit she needed him.

  His warm body pressed against hers, solid and strong. Now that she knew what it was like to make love to him, she wanted nothing more than to do it again.

  “There she is,” Sam said, with warmth in his tone.

  The picture perfect scene unfolding took her breath away. Beautiful. A maroon-roofed ranch house stretched in front of them with red window boxes full of flowers beneath green shutters. Baskets overflowing with brightly colored flowers hung from the small covered porch protecting the white front door. Someone had taken care to trim the shrubs and plants lining the entire house. A giant oak provided shade for the inviting home, its branches protected it.

  Rolling green pastures full of cattle and horses behind split-rail fences met two gently sloped hills that looked like small mountains to Alana.

  “This is your home?” she asked Sam.

  “For the most part,” Sam said with a hint of pride. “My brother and I inherited it when our parents passed a few years ago. Caleb handles most of it since I’m...gone a lot.”

  Right, mercenaries weren’t home often, she supposed. Not exactly a nine-to-five job. Did Sam’s brother know he was a mercenary? Hard to explain the absences if Caleb wasn’t aware.

  “It’s incredible,” Alana said as they rumbled up the dusty narrow road toward the one-story house.

  “That she is,” Sam agreed, stopping the old truck around in front of a two-stall garage.

&n
bsp; Alana followed Cristian out, staring at the handful of barns and stables and corrals down the hill. She could hear cattle calling in the distance, an occasional horse’s whinny, and men’s voices drifted on the warm breeze.

  “Come on in.” Sam led them up the short step onto the porch leading to a small wooden deck. He opened the door and stood back so she could walk in first.

  Cristian trailed her.

  The hardwood floor creaked beneath her feet as she walked into the cozy, western-themed living room. Various animal horns adorned the walls, Navajo-print blankets hung over the backs of matching handcrafted wooden rocking chairs in front of a stone fireplace.

  “There are two spare bedrooms down the hall there,” Sam said. “I’ll see if one of the ranch hands’ wives have something that will fit you. We’re a bit short on female...attire.”

  Alana glanced down at the clothes she wore. Anything would certainly be better than this. “I suppose a trip into town is out of the question.”

  Cristian and Sam both sent her disapproving looks. Alana sighed. “I didn’t think so.”

  “It’s pretty much survival of the fittest around here,” Sam said. “This isn’t like the movies, there is no cook or housekeeper. Marge, our foreman’s wife, cleans once a week and cooks a Sunday dinner for the lot of us. Other than that, it’s every man for himself. Lucky for you, you’re only staying one night.”

  She’d grown up wealthy and spoiled, with the proverbial silver spoon in her mouth, but life on the island had cured her of all that. She’d found out just how hard life could be. And how simple. Which was so much better than the alternative. Her time in Nicaragua would never be a regret, at least not for that reason.

  Not correcting Sam for his assumptions about her, she followed him down the hall with Cristian trailing.

  Sam pushed open the door on the left. “Rooms are pretty much identical,” he said. “Bathroom separates the bedrooms. I have some business to take care of, so I’ll let you two figure out the sleeping arrangements. Kitchen is off the dining room. Help yourself to whatever you can find.”