He’d tried not to pay too much attention to her clothing before, but he let his gaze skim the dark jeans and boots she wore, the white tank top displaying luscious breasts beneath a black jacket. And all the gorgeous hair that was slipping free of its knot.
She had full, generous lips, and the hint of cheekbones beneath plump skin. Her violet eyes were fringed in dark lashes. Her eyeliner had smudged, but it gave her a just-got-out-of-bed look rather than a gothic appearance. Some women looked like zombies the next morning when their mascara had run, but not Sophie. A whole day of sleeping in her makeup and she looked sexy, not scary.
“I’ve got a friend,” he said. “He’s going to help us.”
Her breath hitched. “Are you sure you can trust him?”
He wasn’t offended by that question. “He’s a teammate. Or used to be. He started his own security firm recently. They protect high-profile clients—movie stars, rock stars, billionaires. I trust him with my life because he’s saved my ass more than once with his skills.”
She nodded. “Then I guess I’ll trust him too.”
The woods were dark and wet. Apparently it had rained today while she’d been asleep in the tree house. She hadn’t heard a thing. Now she squelched along behind Chase, her suede Christian Louboutin boots no doubt ruined beyond all repair. Her feet were wet, and she shivered inside her light jacket, wishing she’d been wearing something a little heavier when she left New York.
But it was late April and the temperatures had been mild. When she’d gone to Grigori’s yesterday, she hadn’t anticipated hiking or camping only a few hours later. Sophie shivered again. Maybe she should have just stayed home and avoided all his calls instead of going to see him. Maybe that would have worked better.
She shook her head to dislodge that line of thinking. It wasn’t true. Grigori would have come to her apartment, and he would have made a scene until she let him in. Which she would have.
No, far better that she’d gone to him. At least there had been other people around, though a lot of good that did her now.
She thought she heard a noise behind her, and she whipped her head around, trying to see if there was anything back there. Sophie peered into the darkness surrounding them. There was nothing but woods, woods, and more woods. Chase showed no concern, his pace not slowing at all. Sophie hurried to catch up before he left her behind.
Something cracked again in the distance, and Sophie turned once more to look. There was still nothing, so she faced front again—and collided with something solid. It knocked her back a step, and she windmilled her arms as she lost her balance and started to go down.
Chase grabbed her and jerked her upright. She collided with him once more, only this time she didn’t bounce off him. This time he held her steady. Dammit, she’d crashed into him last night too. And here she was doing it again. Such a klutz… though it was hard to feel bad about it when he was so solid and warm. Her fingers curled in the rain jacket he wore, her knuckles brushing hard muscle.
“You’re shivering.” His voice was angry, but that was certainly no surprise. He stayed angry with her.
“I’m cold and my feet are wet.”
She sounded petulant, which she knew he would hate. Hell, she hated it. But it was too late to call the words back and try again.
He didn’t let her go. Instead, he chafed her arms with his big hands. Warmth buzzed in her veins, but it wasn’t from the mere act of rubbing her arms. No, its origin was somewhat deeper. Somewhat illicit, truth be known.
Sophie told herself she should step away, rub her own arms. But oh, that so wasn’t happening. Her blood thickened to molasses and her insides tingled suspiciously.
“You’ll have a hot shower at the end of this. I just need you to hang in there a couple of more hours.”
She sucked in a breath. “I will.”
“Good girl,” he said, squeezing her shoulders before letting her go again.
“Are we being followed?” she asked, worried once more now that he wasn’t touching her.
“Possibly.”
Her chest squeezed—and then a noise that sounded like a dog baying cut through the night. Chase’s head snapped up, and Sophie’s heart hammered. Tears pricked her eyes. Why in God’s name had she ever said yes to Grigori? And why had she taken that flash drive from his apartment? Why?
“They’re going to find us, aren’t they?”
Chase’s attention jerked to her. His jaw tightened. “No.”
Despair arrowed into her. She didn’t believe him. She was going to die in a cold, dark swamp, and no one would ever find her body. Grigori was too powerful, too determined. He’d eliminated a business rival and no one blinked. A hotel maid accused him of assault—and got painted as a lying tramp. If he wanted to get rid of one more person, who was going to stop him in the end?
“Don’t lie to make me feel better, Chase. I want the truth.”
8
He grasped her shoulders roughly and lowered his head until he could look her in the eye. Sophie’s stomach flipped at the ferocity of his gaze. The utter determination.
“They aren’t going to find us. It rained all day, and we’ve been walking through water for a mile. That’s not an accident. A good tracking dog can still find the scent, but it takes a little more time. And time is our friend right now.”
“You led me through water on purpose?”
Her poor boots—and oh how she really didn’t give a crap about them right this second!
“That’s right.” He gave her a brief grin. “This isn’t my first time around the block.”
“I think I love you right now,” she breathed. “More than chocolate, I might add.”
He straightened—and then he laughed softly, shaking his head. “You’re a mess, Sophie. But I might end up liking you in spite of myself.”
For some reason, his words infused her with warmth. She returned his smile. “I think you will. I’m determined you will.”
Briefly, she felt twelve years old again, an awkward girl who wanted the tall, good-looking boy to smile at her at least once before he left for another year.
He lifted his head to peer into the distance. And then he took her hand and tugged her forward. “Gotta move fast now. No time to waste.”
Sophie’s boots slipped and slid in the muck, but she managed to find her balance and tripped along with Chase through the night. She was very conscious of his hand on hers, though she told herself it was nothing. He was hauling her along beside him, making sure she didn’t stop or slow. There was nothing more to it than that—but the pressure of his hand, the feel of his skin, still made an impact on her senses.
She ignored her aching knee, the stitch in her side, and the muscle spasms in her left arch. Chase wasn’t going to slow down for any of that—and she didn’t want him to. She couldn’t hear the dog anymore, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t back there. It might not be a tracking dog at all—maybe it was a hunter’s dog or a stray—but she didn’t want to stop and find out.
They pounded through the night, feet slapping into puddles, Chase’s hand still firm on hers. She wasn’t cold anymore. She was hot, sweating, and she wanted nothing more than to stop and rest for a while.
She was ready to collapse, certain she couldn’t make it another inch, but he kept pulling her forward, relentlessly driving her toward something. And then he stopped, and she was so accustomed to running that she kept going and jerked up short, tripping when he snatched her backward and into his arms.
She went immediately still, her back pressed to his front. She was breathing so hard, her blood pounding in her veins and her ears, that she couldn’t hear a damn thing except her own breath razoring in and out of her lungs.
Chase had an arm around her, across her breasts, his hand gripping her waist, holding her tightly to him. Her body was exhausted, and yet a new feeling began to drip into her system. His chest swelled against her back as he dragged in air, though he wasn’t panting anywhere near as hard as she wa
s. His entire body was hard as stone. He was a pillar against which she could rest, and she let her body melt just a little.
His breath gusted in her ear, and a shiver rippled down her spine. Goose bumps rose on her neck, her arms, and her nipples tightened.
“We have to wait here,” he told her, his voice barely a whisper. “Not long.”
She nodded, her skin prickling and tingling. It was as if he’d nibbled the shell of her ear when in fact he’d done no such thing. But try telling her body that as parts of her that had no business being awake right now decided to respond.
Her nipples were tight little points now. And then there were the itchy, achy, gotta-have-it sensations zipping around in her nether regions. She turned her head to ask him what they were waiting for, but his face was still near her ear and her mouth hit his jaw—and maybe part of his lips. She gasped, and he stiffened.
When she would have jerked away, he held her tightly and wouldn’t let her go. He shifted so his face wasn’t there anymore, so her mouth wasn’t touching him, but he didn’t let her escape the prison of his embrace.
She was already hot from the run, but her face flamed even hotter. God, what must he think? She was certain she was the only one who felt this odd sexual heat. If he had felt it, she knew he’d let her go like a hot potato. No, pretty much the only thing he felt for her was anger and disdain.
Her ears throbbed with heat, but the pounding of her blood was beginning to subside enough that she could make out other sounds. One of those sounds became tires on pavement. She turned, searching for the road—and then she saw it, a dark, wet ribbon stretching into the night.
An SUV came around a corner, headlights shining bright. And then they went out and the parking lights shone for a second. On again, off, on.
“That’s our ride,” Chase said, easing away from her and starting down the embankment that lay before them.
“How can you be sure?”
He turned to look at her. “Would you rather stay here and wait for the dogs to catch up?”
Sophie gulped. And then she took the plunge over the side of the embankment, her wet boots squelching as she hurried to catch Chase since he’d started toward the road again.
The SUV inched forward until whoever was inside spotted them. The window slid down and a man leaned out.
“Hey, Fiddler. Heard you needed a ride.”
Fiddler?
“Yeah, got a bit of a problem here,” Chase said as he came up to the SUV and grasped the rear door handle behind the driver.
“And this is the problem, I take it?” the man said as Sophie approached.
“Yep.” Chase dragged the door open, threw his bag in, and motioned for Sophie to get inside. She didn’t like being called a problem, but she did as instructed without calling him on it. Besides, from his perspective, it was certainly true.
The door slammed and Chase went around to the passenger side. When they were situated, the man at the wheel flipped on the headlights and smashed the gas. Sophie was thrown back against the seat as the SUV accelerated.
“Who is she?” the driver asked.
Chase rolled his neck from side to side before answering. “Hawk, meet Sophie Nash. Sophie, meet Jack ‘Hawk’ Hunter, the best sniper to ever take aim at a target.”
The man’s gaze met hers in the rearview.
Sophie smiled. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Hunter.”
He laughed. “Just Hawk. Or Jack. Polite,” he said to Chase. “Gina would love that. Any chance you and Sophie are, uh, a couple…”
Chase snorted. “No way in fucking hell, dude.”
Sophie’s heart pinched, but then Chase turned and speared her with a look. “Technically, Sophie’s my stepsister.”
“We weren’t raised together,” Sophie interjected. She didn’t know why she felt the need to say it, but she did. Maybe because of the way her body had reacted to him earlier.
“Nope, we definitely weren’t.” Chase’s eyes glittered as he stared at her, and then he turned to face front again.
Hawk shrugged. “Sorry. It was just a thought. You know how Gina is these days. The mere hint of romance and she’s planning a wedding.”
Chase laughed. “Jesus, dude, she just held a wedding at your place a couple of weeks ago.”
“Yeah, but now she’s waiting for the next teammate to fall and gleefully plotting where to put the swans.”
“Swans? Shouldn’t she be writing songs or something?”
Sophie had no idea what they were talking about, but she was damn glad to be in a closed vehicle for a change. She melted against the seat, her body tired and achy and ready for the promised shower and some sleep. She had no idea what time it was, but she felt as if she hadn’t actually slept most of the day.
She stifled a yawn as Hawk and Chase continued to talk about this Gina person and her desire to host weddings. Sophie gathered at some point that Gina was Hawk’s wife and that they had two children.
“You got somebody for this case?” Chase asked after a while, and Sophie’s ears perked up.
Hawk shook his head. “Sorry, dude, I don’t.”
Chase’s jaw flexed. “Her daddy”—he put a twist on the word daddy—“can pay a lot to protect her. Surely you have an operator willing to take this on.”
Sophie sat up straighter. She didn’t want someone else. She wanted Chase. But before she could protest, Hawk spoke again.
“Man, I wish I did. But Hunter Security Services is too new, and all my operators are on assignment. It’s you or no one, Fiddler. Sorry.”
9
Grigori Androv’s cell phone rang. He picked it up and answered with a clipped “You had better have news for me.”
The man on the other end was silent for a moment. “We have dogs, sir. They’ve found the trail—but no sign of the girl or her companion yet.”
Grigori gripped the arm of the sofa he was sitting on and squeezed it. Fury hammered through him. If he could reach through the phone and slice the guy’s neck, he’d do it just for the pleasurable rush it would bring him.
Incompetent fools. They could have had Sophie when she’d been in that apartment, but they’d gotten stupid and lazy. Grigori would have someone’s head over that one. He’d sent his right-hand man down there just a couple of hours ago to deal with them. Sergei would make sure the job got done right.
“You will keep looking. You will not stop until you find them. I want the girl alive—but kill the man. Don’t fuck up again.”
“Yes, sir.”
Grigori ended the call and then went over to the liquor cabinet and poured two fingers of scotch into a glass. He took a fortifying sip of the smoky liquid as he walked over to look at the view from his penthouse apartment. Central Park was a dark island surrounded by the blazing lights of New York City. Traffic moved far below, white and red lights inching through the narrow corridors between tall buildings.
He turned the glass from side to side in his hand, absently, and contemplated what he planned to do to Sophie Nash when he got her back in his possession. He snorted and took another sip of scotch.
In truth, he would do nothing. He couldn’t mar her skin, and he damn sure couldn’t violate her body. No, she was worth too much the way she was. He had buyers for a girl like her, and he wasn’t going to ruin his profit by punishing her—though she deserved it.
He’d taken too much time with her. When she’d caught his eye at the charity event last month, he’d known she would fetch a pretty price. She was a lush beauty with abundant curves, and there were men who would pay a premium for that. If she was a virgin, even better.
She wasn’t, as she’d told him haltingly one night when he’d asked, but it didn’t really matter because he would market her as a virgin anyway. There were ways to ensure the end buyer believed he’d gotten what he’d purchased.
He should not have lost his temper with her when she’d come to tell him she wanted to stop seeing him for a while. Had he not done that, she would have never run awa
y. And she would not have taken his flash drive.
The mere thought of the theft twisted his gut into knots. It was not the only flash drive with the information stored on it—he’d lost access to nothing—but it still contained critical intelligence. Things he would not want anyone else to know.
It was encrypted, of course. But someone with skill could break it eventually. That was always the way of it. He knew because Zoprava funded a network of hackers in Russia, presumably to test the limits of his software but really to steal credit card numbers and other personal information from people around the world. They then packaged and sold that data to third parties who exploited it for gain. Of which he got a cut, naturally.
If someone like one of his hackers got ahold of the drive, they’d decrypt it in hours. He could not afford to take the chance.
Therefore, he needed Sophie back—and he needed that drive. Once it was secure, he would put her on a plane and send her to his private auction in Monte Carlo where she would be sold to some fat billionaire who would take her home and use her for his pleasure until he was tired of her. Then she would either be put into a brothel or killed. It mattered not to him.
His phone rang again and he answered, hoping it was news to put him in a better mood.
“She visited a shipping facility before she boarded the train.” It was Sergei’s voice. “There was a security camera.”
“And?”
“She mailed a package and she paid with a credit card. We don’t know where she sent the package yet, but Evgeny is trying to hack into the system. As soon as he does, we’ll have an address.”
Had she mailed the flash drive? Or something else? Whatever it was, he couldn’t afford to ignore this piece of information. She’d run from his office, stopped to mail a package, and boarded a train. Odds were good the package was something he wanted.
“How long will this take?”
“Evgeny says the network security is good. It will take some time to break through. A day, no more. He will call me when it is done.”
Grigori swore in both Russian and English. “As soon as you know, you will call me. I do not care what time it is.”
Hot Protector: A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 10 Page 5
