HERO Force Boxset Books 1-8

by Amy Gamet

  "I'll take the Glock." She inspected the magazine.

  “It’s like riding a bike. It will come back to you.”

  “Except a bike is more fun and doesn’t kill anybody.”

  “Right. Except for that.” He winked at her, and she felt a flash of annoyance.

  “How long do you think we have?” she asked.

  “A few minutes, at least. If this guy is coming after you with a weapon, you pull the trigger. Do you hear me?” A gust of wind blew her hair in her face and she flipped it back, pretending not to notice the way Jax looked at her when she did.

  Jax began to walk. “Let’s get into the trees and find a good place to hide.”

  She walked quickly behind him, suddenly feeling very unsafe in the clearing, panic rising within her like a quickly burning fire.

  Jax hopped over a large felled tree, then held out his hand to help her across. "We'll be safe here. At least for starters."

  "Well, that's super comforting."

  Jax chuckled. "I said it just to make you feel better, too."

  Jessa kneeled down in the brush, a spongy layer of damp leaves wicking moisture onto her pants and the earthy smell of the forest surrounding her. She imagined this was what a hunter must feel like.

  Better the hunter than the hunted.

  She said a silent prayer for their safety, suddenly fearful for herself and her child. If Jax knew she was pregnant, he never would have asked her to arm herself and watch his back. But who did he have besides her to do it?

  Jax turned to her, his face utterly calm and in control. "You stay here. God willing, I'll be doing this alone. But if he comes for you, use your weapon. Don't be afraid of this bastard, Jessa."

  She nodded curtly. “You already said that.” The sound of an approaching vehicle could be heard in the distance.

  "Get down now."

  She did as she was told, pressing her body against the trunk, only vaguely aware of the rotting bark and damp mold against her skin. She was focused on the metal in her hand, the butt of the Glock seemingly the only sure thing in existence.

  Jax moved ten feet away to a large bush. She looked at him questioningly, and he gestured for her to stay put.

  He doesn't want to be near me, in case the bad guy gets too close.

  She swallowed hard against the dryness in her throat, refusing to let herself think about what that might mean. In the clearing below, a car came into view, circling once before stopping.

  The driver got out.

  He was short, with whitish-blond hair that blew in the breeze, and for a moment she thought he looked harmless. He spun around once, slowly, then he went back in his car and retrieved a large semiautomatic weapon. Jessa’s stomach danced, and she wished she’d been sick already so maybe the nausea would leave her alone.

  You have to be strong. Two of you are going to walk out of these woods, and that man isn't one of them.

  They just had to wait.

  Another gust of wind blew through the trees. With these conditions, he had to be closer for Jax to aim reliably. He would get one shot that had the benefit of surprise. Anything after that would be a battle.

  So they waited as the white-haired man slowly got closer.

  Jessa was bent over behind the log, holding herself at an uncomfortable angle. The muscles of her arms straining to keep herself still were suddenly too fatigued to continue, and her torso shifted an inch or two to the right. The bullet came so quickly she nearly gasped out loud, bark flying off the tree that hid her.

  Then Jax was firing, the rounds coming in quick succession, and she knew they were shooting at each other. She closed her eyes. She couldn't handle another one of them dying. Had barely survived the first. It occurred to her their odd little family was under fire — mother, child, unwitting father.

  A body hit the ground, the man grunting as he fell. She couldn't tell if it was Jax or their stalker.

  She was trembling, shaking in her own skin, fear for Jax and fear for her own safety intertwining. If it was Jax who remained standing, he would call to her. He would let her know.

  But he did not call, and with every passing second, the certainty he was dead sank into her flesh like the most vicious acid. She’d lost them both. Ralph and Jax were both dead now.

  The sound of footsteps approaching the log had her eyes opening wide. Terror and adrenaline surged through her system. There was no one to save her now except herself. No one to protect her baby except its mother.

  She trained her weapon over the log, her eyes making contact with the man. He raised his arm to fire, but she got off one shot before he could. He kept coming, the sound of his approach now slowed and echoing in her ears in slow motion.

  Damn it! How long had it been since she fired a weapon? How long since she’d worked to hit a target from any real kind of distance? The gun in her hand would only defend her if she could aim it well.

  She could hear Ralph’s voice in her head, reminding her to brace the gun on the log and look down the barrel, but to do that she would need to put her head in her attacker’s line of fire.

  Show me another way.

  The loud screech of a bird made her look up. A bald eagle flew overhead and straight for the shooter, who had no choice but to shoo it away, his attention now completely off of Jessa.

  She propped the Glock on top of the log and looked down the barrel. The white-haired man realized his mistake a moment before she fired, his jaw dropping as she pulled the trigger.

  A black dot appeared in the middle of his forehead. He swayed, then fell to the ground. The eagle landed on the forest floor just ten feet from Jessa.

  “Ralph?” she whispered. The bird tilted its head.

  Jessa’s mouth pulled down hard at the corners. “Thank you.”

  It stayed and stared at her for a beat, then flew away, its majestic wings lifting it high into the sky.

  I have to find Jax.

  She spun in a circle, frantically searching for him, then began running and calling his name, weaving in and out of trees, brush, and boulders. She finally spotted him on his side beneath a large tree nearly covered in brush.

  He was not moving.

  "Jax!" She was frantically pulling at him, tugging his body out from under the brush. Where was he hit? Was he already dead? She heard sobbing and realized it was coming from her own mouth.

  Her hands found the blood at the back of his head, warm and sticky and saturating his hair, and hoped the large rock beside him was to blame and not a bullet.

  “Jax! Can you hear me? I need you to wake up now."

  She made a fist with her hand and rubbed her knuckles along his sternum, deliberately causing him pain. His eyes opened as he moaned.

  "Jax, you have to wake up!"

  His eyes met hers, consciousness clear in their depths, and he winced. "You okay?" he asked.

  "Yes.”

  “The tango?”

  She gestured toward the dead man.

  He leveled his stare on her. “You did that?”

  She nodded, not yet able to comprehend that she’d taken a life. There’d be time for that later, when they weren’t standing so close to their own mortality.

  “Good job.” He sat up, his face scrunching into a wince.

  “Are you hit?” she asked.

  He felt around his arms and chest. “I don’t think so.”

  “Your shoulder,” she said, noticing the blood that was seeping through his shirt. “Let me see.” Gingerly, she lifted the fabric from his wound and looked beneath it. “It’s a flesh wound. It needs to be bandaged, and you probably have a concussion from the rock you landed on.”

  He grabbed on to a tree branch and pulled himself to a stand. “I’m fine. Let’s hit the road.”

  “At least let me drive. And we need to stop and get supplies to take care of your wound.”

  “You’re pretty cute when you worry about me.”

  “Don’t call me cute.”

  “Fine. Just don’t go all
Florence Nightingale on me, batting your eyes and hoping I notice.”

  She opened her mouth and glared at him. He was smiling, and he winked. He put his arm around her. “It’s okay now, Jessa. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  16

  The law offices of Layton, Felder, Bach & Moore were in the center of downtown Boston and screamed of old money.

  "Just follow my lead," whispered Jax in Jessa’s ear as they were escorted into a conference room, a large painting of a mansion overlooking the ocean hanging in an ornate gold frame on the longest wall.

  Jessa stared at it as they waited for the lawyer to join them, rubbing one hand over the other.

  She’d killed a man today.

  There would be gunpowder on her hands from firing the gun. She wondered absently if it would wash off, or if days from now someone could test her hands for the chemicals and see what she’d done.

  If only the experience would wash away as easily as the gun powder.

  It was necessary, she knew, and given the same circumstance a hundred times, a hundred times she’d kill him. But somehow that didn’t make it much easier to swallow.

  When Ralph was a SEAL and later with HERO Force, she wouldn’t allow herself to think of the deaths her husband was responsible for. When he came home with injuries, she never once asked what the other guy looked like, or what harm Ralph had done.

  She didn’t like to think about people causing death, and now she was one of them. She rubbed her trigger finger with her opposite hand.

  “You okay?” asked Jax.

  “No.”

  He put his hand on her forearm. “Thank you for what you did today.”

  She turned and met his eyes. “You didn’t see him, did you?”

  “Who?”

  “The eagle. He swooped in and distracted the shooter so I could set up my shot.”

  “An eagle?”

  She nodded. “A bald eagle. Just like on the SEAL insignia. Without him we’d both be dead.”

  A knowing look settled over Jax’s features. “He helped you.”

  “He helped us.”

  The conference room door opened and a man in a suit and tie walked in. “Good afternoon. I’m Fred Bach. What can I do for you, Mr. Andersson?”

  “This is Maria Elena Cortez. She received a package from your law firm a few weeks ago with a book bequeathed to her from Mr. Harold Hopewell."

  "Yes, Mr. Hopewell has been a client here at Layton, Felder, Bach & Moore for many, many years. It was an honor to execute his final wishes."

  Jax leaned forward in his chair. "I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me about Mr. Hopewell's will."

  The lawyer frowned. "Once the person is deceased, their last will and testament becomes a matter of public record. Now, it can take some time for those documents to make their way down to the courthouse, or the records room, but the public is entitled to know what was written inside them."

  Jax nodded. "Great, then we shouldn't have any problems getting some answers."

  "What exactly are you looking for?" asked the lawyer.

  "I want to know what would have happened if Maria Elena hadn't been alive and well to receive this package from your law firm."

  The lawyer furrowed his brow. “That’s an odd question. May I ask why you’re interested?”

  “Someone broke into my home,” said Jessa. “I believe they were looking for the book.”

  “I see.” Fred walked behind his desk and opened a file. “So you’re thinking someone with a vested interest in the estate may have had something to do with that.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Actually, in this case, we had some trouble locating Ms. Cortez. The address we had on file for her was no longer valid, and we needed to hire a private investigator to track her down. It was several weeks before we were able to locate you, Ms. Cortez.”

  "But what would have happened if you hadn't been able to find me?"

  "Well, according to the provisions of the will, if the inheritance is returned to our law firm as undeliverable and we are unable to locate the heir, then the inheritance would be passed on to another beneficiary."

  Jax raised an eyebrow. "And who might that beneficiary be?"

  The lawyer tilted his head and folded his hands across the file. “I’m not certain I should share that information at this time.”

  "If it's a matter of public record, then what difference does it make?"

  "Technically it's a matter of public record. Realistically, if you went through legal means to obtain this information, it would take you a minimum of several weeks from today to get it." He smiled a small smile. "Mr. Hopewell was a very good client. I feel it's our duty to protect the dignity of his Last Will and Testament.”

  Jax and Jessa exchanged a look. Jessa rested her elbow on the armrest and cocked an eyebrow at the lawyer. "It wasn’t just the break-ins. Someone is trying to hurt me."

  The lawyer's eyes went wide. "Excuse me?"

  “Maybe even kill me. They're after this book." She held up the book in her hand.

  The lawyer’s stare was transfixed on the volume. “The Manor.” He sighed. "I had heard it was among the items mailed out, but I didn't get to see it, myself."

  Jax narrowed his eyes. "Does this book mean something to you?"

  The lawyer laughed. “Personally, no. But I believe it’s quite valuable. I may be able to find a buyer if you’re interested in selling.”

  "Why is it valuable?”

  The lawyer walked around his desk and approached her with a coy smile. "May I?" He held out his hand and Jessa gave him the book. He flipped open to cover. “This in my hand is the only known author-inscribed copy ever found. It's believed he left this note for his lover after he went back to his wife. It's a horrible story. One that’s echoed in The Manor’s pages."

  He closed the book and returned it to her. "You're a very lucky woman Ms. Cortez."

  "You can see why we’re anxious to learn who might be interested in this book," said Jax.

  "The whole world is interested, I imagine," said the lawyer.

  Jax nodded. "I need to know who the primary heir of Harold Hopewell's estate is.”

  The lawyer returned to his seat and opened his folder once more. He appeared to be reading, then lifted his head. "Mr. Hopewell left a series of odd bequests. Single items or amounts of money left to people he was unrelated to. I can only assume that you, Maria Elena, are also one of those people. Is that correct?"

  "Yes," she said.

  "But he was not without family of his own. He had one sister who passed before him, and she had a son. Harold’s only living relative, a nephew. He's the primary heir of Harold's estate. Any of Mr. Hopewell's bequests that go unclaimed will eventually become the property of his nephew."

  "I need a name,” said Jax.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Andersson. But that’s as much as I can help you.”

  17

  Jessa sat up straight and squeezed her knees together on the bench seat of Jax’s truck. “I want to go back to the beach.”

  “You’re not safe there,” said Jax.

  “Why not? The guy who was following me is dead. He can’t hurt me anymore.”

  “If he was the only one following you.”

  “Oh, come on, Jax. You can’t just make things up to get me to do what you want.”

  “I’m not making anything up. I have a hunch the man in the woods was a professional hit man, in which case the person who hired him is still very much alive.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What makes you think that?”

  “Several things. His rifle. It was a military-issue sniper rifle. You can’t walk into a sporting goods store and buy a gun like that. And the GPS unit we found in your purse was also a professional gadget. Do you think the heir of a wealthy millionaire would just happen to have those things, or is he more likely to hire someone who does?”

  Jessa turned and stared back out the windshield. “If you’re right, I�
��ll never be safe.”

  “Not as Maria Elena, no.”

  “I need to get my things, at least.”

  “Not right now, you don’t.”

  “The only things I care about are in that house.”

  “They’re things, Jessa. They can be replaced.”

  She knew he was right, though it was the handful of keepsakes she was most concerned with. “Not the special things.”

  “Then I promise, I’ll get them back to you. But for now, we need to head back to Georgia.”

  “I don’t have anywhere to live in Georgia anymore.”

  “You can stay with me.”

  She blew out air. She would sooner live on the streets than with this man. “No, thank you.”

  In that moment, she felt hopeless. All she wanted to do was to create a life for herself and her child where Jax would never find them, and all her attempts to distance herself from him had brought her right back to his side.

  “Jessa, I need to know what you were running from. Why you changed your name. You can trust me with anything.”

  “Not anything.”

  “Yes, damn it, anything. But you don’t believe that, do you? No matter what I say, you just tune it right out. I’m sorry you feel so alone, but it seems to me you’re alone because you don’t let anyone inside anymore. I’m your friend, and I’m sitting right here, trying to help, and you’re pushing me away as hard as you can.”

  Her bottom lip was quivering and she bit it, hard. “I want a fresh start, Jax. Away from my memories of Ralph. Away from HERO Force. Away from you.”

  The truck crested a hill and a gas station came into view. “I need to get fuel,” he said. “Are you hungry?”

  She nodded, feeling suddenly exhausted, whether from the argument with Jax, the stress of the last few days, or the pregnancy, she had no idea. Probably a bit of everything.

  Jax sat in the car and watched Jessa through the gas station window while he touched base with Logan back at HERO Force. "I need everything you’ve got on this nephew guy," he said. "Somehow he has to be the one orchestrating this shit. No one else has a stake in the items from that will."

  “I cross-referenced Hopewell with Maria Elena Cortez. I can’t find their association.”