She deserved his sarcasm. “I’m afraid, Chase. I need your help.”
“Why my help? Why not the police?”
She swallowed. She’d thought about going to the police, but what could they do? It was her word against Grigori’s—and they weren’t going to arrest him because he’d threatened her. Not to mention she had technically stolen his property when she’d fled his apartment.
“You’re a soldier. An elite soldier. You do counterterrorism work—”
His brows lowered and he looked pissed.
She hurried on. “That’s what Tyler said. He told me you could protect me.”
And God, she hoped it was true. Because if Chase turned her down, what would she do?
He swore, long and hard. She wasn’t encouraged by the look on his face.
“I’m not a fucking bodyguard, Sophie. Tyler is wrong. You need the police for this, not me. I can’t help you.”
3
Chase couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so pissed. He didn’t give Tyler Nash much thought these days, and he certainly never thought of Sophie. He knew she’d gotten advantages in life because of Tyler’s influence, and that used to piss him off. Now he couldn’t care less.
But knowing that Tyler had called his mom and gotten his address? Knowing that his mom had told Tyler—because who else would have?—that he worked in top secret stuff and could help? Was the man ever done taking advantage of Carrie Daniels?
Sophie was looking at him with wide eyes, her cheeks flushed though her skin was pale. He could see her pulse beating in her throat, that soft fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings. He felt a rush of sympathy for her and immediately stomped it back down.
What kind of dumb twit got involved with Grigori Androv? Even if Sophie didn’t have the advantage of working for HOT, which maintained a dossier on Androv and knew precisely how he’d built his fortune—it wasn’t in software but rather in the ugly world of organized crime and petty arms dealing—the Russian had been in the news recently for an alleged assault of a hotel maid.
The details were ugly and brutal—and the maid was being systematically taken apart in the court of public opinion by Androv’s spin doctors.
“If you don’t help me, I’ll be dead by the end of the week,” she said. “Maybe sooner.”
Yeah, he was pissed at the idea of Androv threatening her, but if the man hadn’t eliminated the hotel maid by now, he wasn’t going to kill Sophie. “He’s not going to hurt you. He’s smarter than that. He has too many other interests to protect, and you’re nothing to him in the scheme of things. You wounded his pride. Nothing more.”
She didn’t look relieved. If anything, she looked even more desperate. “I took s-something from his office. A flash drive. He’ll have realized it by now—and he’ll want it back. He’ll stop at nothing to get it.”
Interest sparked deep inside even though he told himself it was probably bullshit. “Do you know what’s on it?”
“No. But I never saw him without it. It’s important to him.”
“It could be anything. Or nothing. Lots of people use flash drives. It doesn’t mean anything. It could be pictures of his vacation—or dirty pictures he gets off on.”
“But what if it does mean something? What if there’s information he doesn’t want made public?”
She looked hopeful. And, damn, he had to admit he was hooked. She’d thrown him the fucking bait and she was reeling him in bit by bit. She tumbled on before he could speak.
“He told me he doesn’t trust the cloud with what’s on it—and I know that’s crazy because he makes a living selling antivirus software, so presumably he should have the best firewall protection there is. But it’s true. He told me he doesn’t trust the cloud and that it was better if his enemies didn’t get this information.”
Chase could only gape at her. “Why would he tell you this? And how did you get ahold of it if it’s so important to him?”
“He was using his laptop in his limo when we were going somewhere once, and he inserted a flash drive. I asked why he didn’t just use the cloud. He told me he didn’t trust it. As for how I got it… it was on his desk with his papers. When the butler interrupted, he left me in his office. I grabbed it and ran.”
Chase’s senses were tingling now. He held out a hand. “Better hand it over and let me have a look.”
Her eyes dropped away. “I… I don’t have it. I mailed it before I left town. I thought it was safer that way.”
“You mailed it? To me?” He turned his head to the pile of mail he’d brought in earlier. If she’d just mailed it, it wouldn’t be here yet. But fuck, this was not at all what he needed right now.
She reached for him, her fingers grazing over his arm for the briefest of seconds. He felt as if someone had touched him with a hot iron. His head whipped around, his eyes boring into hers. She licked her lips again, a quick maneuver that had him thinking about pink tongues and pleasurable uses for them.
“I didn’t mail it to you,” she was saying as he dragged his mind into the present. “I sent it to Tyler’s apartment… in Paris.”
Chase felt his brows arrow down. Of course the fucker had an apartment in Paris. Chase’s mother had always said she wanted to go to Paris someday. And Tyler had a fucking apartment there. Figured.
“You sent it to Paris. And I suppose you want me to go get it, right?” He really couldn’t believe the nerve of this girl, but then why not? She’d been raised in privilege and splendor. She’d never had to work a day in her life while he’d always worked for everything he had. He resented the fuck out of her for that.
“Yes… but I want to go with you. It won’t be there for three more days, so there’s time. But we should be there when it arrives.”
He blinked at her for a second before the truth of what was going on here hit him. Holy shit, she was crazy. Too many fucking conspiracy theory movies probably. And he wasn’t about to play along. She was a drama queen, fishing for sympathy and trying to drag him into her own twisted world of intrigue and danger. Hell, for all he knew, she was making up the existence of the flash drive—though the why of it eluded him.
But she did seem genuinely scared, which didn’t help.
He raked a hand over his head. Fuck, he hadn’t had enough sleep for this shit.
“Look, sweetheart, even if I wanted to help you, I can’t just take off for Paris. I’m a soldier and there are procedures to be followed. I go to Paris with you, I’m AWOL from my job. And I can promise you I’m not doing that.”
Technically, since they’d just returned from a mission in Qu’rim where they’d rescued a group of archaeologists, his squad was off duty for another week. The guys were all taking holidays, going to beaches and mountains and relaxing until time to return for duty.
But the difference was that everyone was staying within an eight-hour radius of HQ. That was the requirement unless officially on leave. The eight hours was travel time, not distance—and Paris was over eight hours when you added airport delays and car time.
“I’ll pay you, if that’s the issue.”
Chase stiffened. He was just about to tell her to get the fuck out when the neighbor’s dog started barking like crazy. Sophie whirled and stared at the door. The hair on Chase’s neck prickled, but he dismissed it. Crazy night. Lack of sleep.
“Relax, it’s probably a possum or a raccoon. One time, that idiot dog got worked up over a skunk—didn’t work out well for his owner, I can promise you that.”
She threw him a look over her shoulder. For the first time, he was looking at the rear of her—and it was a mighty fine rear to look at. Baby had back, that’s for sure. Sophie might be the privileged stepdaughter of a wealthy man, but she didn’t look like someone who had a personal trainer and a chef who fixed salads for her.
No, the girl looked like she liked her fries and milkshakes a bit more than that—and yet she was still fucking gorgeous with her red-gold hair and killer curves. No wonder Androv had been interested.
“I really need to get out of here,” she said, her voice tinged with panic. “When Grigori figures out I’ve left New York, he’ll come looking for me.”
He had to admire the depth of the conspiracy theory scenario she had going. Yep, Sophie had watched too many Mission Impossible movies.
Chase sank onto the couch and propped his feet on the coffee table. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in about ten years or so. Why would Androv assume you’d come to me?”
Sophie looked suddenly disgusted with him, like he was the one a few bricks short of a load. It was not a good feeling.
“How do you think I got your address? By carrier pigeon? I called Tyler for help and he told me to come to you.”
Chase felt the first prickle of warning slip down his spine. Maybe she was blowing the whole thing out of proportion… but what if she was right?
“Do you think Androv tapped your phone?”
“I put nothing past him.”
The bad feeling in his gut was growing stronger. “Why didn’t you use a fucking pay phone then?”
She looked distressed. “I didn’t have a lot of time. I left Grigori’s place and went straight to the shipping office and then the train station. I didn’t even go home first!”
If she wasn’t just doing this for attention, if this wasn’t a joke—
The dog’s frantic barking ceased abruptly.
Fuck, that probably wasn’t good.
“You don’t have the phone with you, right? Please tell me you ditched it.”
She frowned. “Well, yes, I have it. I turned it off though. I thought you could wipe it for me.”
Chase erupted from the couch and stalked to where she stood. Her eyes widened and alarm skated over her features.
“Hand it the fuck over. Now.”
She dug into her purse and pulled out an innocent-looking Android phone. Chase snatched it and went down the hall to the bathroom, Sophie on his heels the whole way. She might be doing this for attention, making mountains out of molehills, but he wasn’t taking fucking chances.
You didn’t stay alive in his world by ignoring your gut when it started giving you funny vibes.
“What are you doing? Wait a minute, why—?”
Chase dropped the phone in the toilet and closed the lid. Sophie stood there with her mouth hanging open. Indignation crossed her face as he stalked past her toward the bedroom.
“Why did you do that? It could be debugged—every contact I have is in there! Everything I am—my photos, my texts—”
He spun on her, wanting like hell to grab her shoulders and shake her. Then he wanted to smash his mouth to hers and take her in a hard kiss.
Whoa, where the fuck had that come from?
“Androv is the big time, sweetheart. Turning it off—shit, you probably can’t turn it off. If what you say is true, then it’s very likely been recording everything and transmitting it back to your boyfriend.”
She gasped, her hand slapping over her mouth in horror. Not entirely stupid then. She knew what it meant if Androv had heard what she’d just said about the flash drive and Paris.
He shoved past her and went to grab his bugout bag with his weapons and papers. It might be a false alarm, but he was taking her to HOT HQ and figuring this shit out there.
Something pinged against metal. And then it happened again. Chase threw himself at Sophie and grabbed her, dragging her down to the floor as he did so. There was a whoosh—and then his apartment erupted in flame.
4
Sophie was too shocked to scream. The weight of Chase’s body pressed her into the floor for only a moment before he scrambled up and jerked her to her feet. The front of his apartment, where they’d been standing only moments before, was ablaze. Fire licked at the walls and glass shattered.
“Come on,” he said roughly, tugging her toward the back of the apartment and away from the flames.
Sophie’s heart hammered, but she did as he asked. This was not her area of expertise, that’s for sure. Chase grabbed the bag he’d dropped when he’d tackled her and then raced into another room. He jerked on a pair of boots, then fell to the floor and shoved an area rug aside to reveal—a trapdoor?
Sophie blinked. Who the heck had a trapdoor in their apartment?
Chase produced a weapon from somewhere, and then he yanked the door open and waited a few seconds. When nothing happened, he snagged a pillow from the bed and dropped it through the opening. Still nothing. He looked up at her.
“I’ll go down first, but you better be right behind me. If you’re scared of heights or the dark, now’s not the time to let that stop you. Your life depends on it, got that?”
Sophie nodded. Chase dropped his bag down the hole and then started down the ladder. Sophie scrambled over and found the rungs of the ladder with her toes. Her heart rocketed and her breath came in pants. Slowly, she let herself down, her legs and arms shaking. The heat from the flames was growing unbearable, pulling her breath from her body, wrapping around her throat.
A hand gripped her hip, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. But it was Chase, of course. He grasped her hips with both hands and steadied her as she came down the ladder. Before her feet touched the ground, he picked her up as if she weighed nothing and set her on the floor.
It was hotter down here. The room glowed orange with the flames licking against the exterior. A dark, low-slung car sat in the garage like a predator waiting to pounce.
“Get in,” he said as he went around to the driver’s side and opened the door. He tossed his bag into the back and dropped down into the seat.
“My purse,” Sophie gasped. “I left it in your apartment.”
She’d dropped it when he tackled her and she hadn’t picked it up again.
“Too late. Get in the car.”
“But my credit cards, my money—”
Chase looked utterly furious. “Get the fuck in the car, Sophie. You can’t use a credit card if you’re dead.”
He was right. She ran over and yanked open the door before throwing herself into the seat and grabbing the seat belt. The car was a Corvette. An older model, not the newest one, but nice with a dark interior and a black body. The car growled to life as he turned the key, and she had to drag her gaze from his face before she could think clearly enough to realize what he was about to do.
The garage door was closed and he was planning to put the car through it. With them inside. Oh God.
“Hang on,” he said tightly.
He jerked the car into gear, pressed a button on a handheld remote—and the door blasted open on its own. Sophie shrieked, but the scream died in her throat as she was thrown back against the seat. The car growled and shot out into the open, tires spinning and rubber burning.
“Get down,” he told her about the time she heard a pop.
Sophie slipped down in the seat as far as she could. The sky was orange and red as the building burned. Chase’s face was orange and red too, his jaw set firmly, his eyes flashing with anger as he drove the car like he’d just robbed a bank.
There were more pops and then some shouting, but the noise grew faint pretty quickly as they flew down the road she’d traveled up in a taxi just a short while ago. Sophie lifted herself up and turned around to look back. The sky glowed, but she didn’t see any movement behind them.
“He found me that quickly,” she said in shock.
Chase glanced at her. “Yeah, that quickly.”
“If I’d been delayed at any point—his people could have grabbed me.” Her stomach bottomed out. “I have to get to Paris.”
He snorted. “One step at a time, sweetheart. Let’s get somewhere safe and figure out what happens next.”
“I guess you believe me now, huh?”
Because it had been pretty clear at one point that he’d thought she was making it all up.
He glanced at her, his expression grim. “Hard not to after that.”
A car appeared on the road ahead. Chase tensed his fingers on the steering
wheel as the lights grew bigger far more quickly than they should have. Someone was heading toward them at a high rate of speed.
“Fuck,” Chase said before downshifting the Corvette and whipping onto a side road. The tires spun and the car bounced across grass and gravel before finding purchase on asphalt again.
Sophie clutched the door, hard. She was positive that her fingers would need to be pried free eventually. The car flew faster than was comfortable for peace of mind. The road was dark, illuminated only by the headlights. If they came to a curve too quickly, or if a deer leapt out in front of them—
She didn’t want to think about it. She told herself to close her eyes, but she couldn’t manage that either. All she could do was hold on and pray they made it without crashing.
Chase glanced into the rearview. “These guys don’t give up.”
“Can you outrun them?”
“Probably not. I’m going to guess they’ve set up checkpoints along the road—” He seemed to listen for something, then nodded. “Yep, they’ve got a helicopter. This isn’t going to end well, Sophie.”
She could barely breathe. “It has to. You have to do something.”
He shot her a glance. “Why me? I’m not the one who got myself into this mess.” His hands tightened on the wheel. “In fact, if I just stopped and handed you over, I imagine I could be on my way.”
“You wouldn’t!”
His expression hardened. “No, I wouldn’t. But what kind of person shows up unannounced in the middle of the night with a bunch of criminals on her heels and almost gets a guy killed?”
“Chase… I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say, but I really am.”
“I don’t even fucking like you, you know that?” He glanced up in the rearview, downshifted the Vette suddenly, and spun into a turn.
Her stomach bottomed out as she gripped the door and the console and held on for dear life. Chase straightened the Vette and shot forward again.
“You don’t like me? But why not? You don’t really know me. You never even tried.”
His words hurt because she was nothing but nice to everyone she knew. Always had been. In the world she’d grown up in, where being thin and gorgeous was the highest currency possible, she’d had to find something to protect herself with. She’d become a people pleaser, because who could hate someone who was nice to you all the time? Someone who only wanted you to be happy?
Hot Protector: A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 10 Page 2
