Under Pressure

by Lori Foster

  Finally the ringing stopped. Enoch hadn’t moved, but his eyes, now bruised and bloodshot, badly swollen, stared at Tesh with crushing fear.

  Such a nuisance.

  “No witnesses,” he muttered, grabbing Enoch by the throat, squeezing hard with both hands. Against the feeble struggles, Tesh watched him gag and gasp, until finally he went limp and his eyes rolled up...completely blank.

  Leaving the huddled, lifeless lump splayed awkwardly in the backseat, Tesh stepped out of the car and started walking. Head down, hands in his pockets, he trudged on for a few blocks, then made his call.

  He’d be picked up in ten minutes. The car and the body would be disposed of.

  No one would ever peg this on him.

  He’d remain free and next time he’d get Catalina for sure. When he did, he’d make her pay for putting him through so much trouble.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  IT WAS THE screeching of a siren that roused Enoch. When he shifted, sharp pain stabbed into every inch of his body. His throat hurt so badly he couldn’t swallow. The blackness called to him again, but around the edges of consuming agony, reality wormed in.

  He got one eye open and through a blurry haze he saw...no one. Taking only shallow breaths, he listened, but all he could hear was the noise outside the car, not a peep within it.

  He’d never been hurt before, and now he knew it was terrible. Throbbing torment pulled at him, making him want to pass out, but he pushed himself upward.

  Sahara depended on him. Catalina was a target.

  I have to move.

  If he stayed in the car, people might die. He would die. He knew it.

  Hell, he’d already thought himself a goner.

  Were the others okay?

  Pain, humiliation and regret turned his stomach, but he didn’t dare vomit. He could only imagine the added discomfort that would bring.

  He’d been incompetent, ineffectual. But he wasn’t an agent, and he definitely wasn’t a fighter. His value was in being the very best and most attentive assistant.

  With extreme effort, he crawled off the floor and onto the seat. When he tried to open the door, he realized he had a broken finger or two. Biting back the automatic groan, he struggled and finally the door opened, spilling him out.

  The fall sharpened every ache, but he slowly breathed in the crisp, cold air and resisted the urge to call out.

  Given the strain of his throat, he didn’t think he could anyway.

  He used the open door of the car to help him gain his feet.

  Gingerly, trying not to disturb his oddly bent fingers, he withdrew his cell and fumbled until he could press in Sahara’s number.

  She answered immediately. “Enoch?” Voice shaky and anxious, sounding suspiciously like tears, she asked, “Where are you? Are you okay?”

  No, definitely not okay. Swallowing hurt so bad. But he had to tell her. Ahead of him he could see a crowd forming, an ambulance, police.

  But would he reach them?

  At any second that awful man or one of his goons could return.

  Enoch tried to speak, but nothing came out.

  “Enoch! Please, please answer me.”

  Hearing the upset, knowing his brave, vibrant Sahara was near to losing it, he tried again, and finally, in the faintest, raspiest of whispers, he managed to say, “Outside.”

  “I’m on my way, Enoch!”

  It seemed only seconds passed before Sahara and Justice burst through the entrance, their gazes wildly searching. When they spotted him, Justice rushed to him, Sahara doing her best to keep up in her heels in the snow.

  If his mouth hadn’t been so grotesquely swollen, Enoch thought he might have smiled.

  “Easy now.” Being a regular muscled behemoth, Justice scooped him up as if he weighed nothing. Heading back for the agency, he said, “I got ya. You just relax, my friend.”

  Sahara, her eyes swimming with tears, met them on the way. “Oh, Enoch, thank God.” She sniffled, looked him over with something akin to horror, and the tearful expression turned to rage. “Someone will pay dearly for this, I promise you that. Do you understand, Enoch? I will make him—”

  Her voice faded, his vision narrowed and he lost consciousness knowing he was safe.

  * * *

  SITTING ON THE side of the hospital table, Leese watched Cat as she watched the doctor stitching him. Five stitches total. Justice was either off by a little, or this doctor liked tiny sutures. Thanks to a numbing shot Leese couldn’t feel the piercing of the needle, but his side hurt as if he’d taken a kick from a heavyweight.

  He could see Cat holding herself tightly, watched as she repeatedly chewed her bottom lip and squeezed her hands together. He thought of how close he’d come to losing her and he, too, tensed from head to toe.

  The doctor gave him an impersonal glance. “You’re okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Never again. Today, the second they were alone, Cat would tell him everything. No more guessing, no more fear, no more keeping secrets.

  Definitely no more running.

  When he heard a commotion in the hallway, he braced himself, but a second later Justice stuck his head around the curtain. “Hey, thought you should know, everyone’s come to visit.”

  “Everyone?” Cat asked, alarm making her breath come faster.

  “Friends,” Justice clarified. “Nothing scary ’bout it.”

  Miles poked his head around the curtain too. He smiled at Cat first, then said to Leese, “Justice called, whimpering, saying you were all but slain and so everyone piled into a car and here we are, just to make sure you don’t need a lollipop or anything.”

  Leese let out a long, aggrieved huff. “I’m fine.” And he was damned tired of saying so.

  Looking at her, Miles said, “I think Cat disagrees.”

  She whispered, “He was shot.”

  Miles strode on in and put a hand on her shoulder. “Yeah, hon, I know. But not with a cannonball or anything, right?”

  While Leese appreciated the support, he needed time alone with Cat. Entertaining the masses, putting up with the good-natured ribbing sure to come, would keep him from clearing the air with her.

  The doctor finished up with a bandage and stood. As if he dealt with gunshot wounds all the time, he rattled off instructions and, eyeing Miles and Justice, wished them all a good day.

  The guys hung around while Leese pulled on a fresh shirt, wincing only a little in discomfort. “Where’s everyone waiting?”

  Justice grinned. “Some pretty little nurse hustled them off to the waiting room just around the corner.”

  “You can hear the muted roar,” Miles said.

  “And Sahara?”

  “She’s with Enoch.” Looking pissed all over again, Justice said, “They moved him to a room.”

  “How is he? And how’s Troy?”

  “Troy is bandaged up and ready to go. He’ll be in a sling and off work for a while. Sucks, I know. He already looks bored.”

  “Did he tell you what happened?”

  “Yeah. The goons had Enoch’s briefcase, claimed he’d been hit by a car. When Troy went to check on him, they tangled. He got shot, but kept going, so the second bastard hit him in the head, knocking him out. He came to tied up and stuffed in the closet.”

  “Damn,” Leese said, frowning in sympathy. “And Enoch?”

  Justice shook his head. “He hides it, but he’s tough as nails, no way ’round it. He was strangled bad. His eyes are bloodred.”

  “Subconjunctiva hemorrhaging,” Miles said.

  They’d seen it before in a fight gone wrong.

  “Dude’s neck is bruised real bad, and it looks like he took a real ass-whoopin’ before that.”

  Fuck. Just..
.fuck. “Was he able to tell you anything?”

  Justice tugged at an ear. “Poor guy can barely whisper. Last I saw, he was trying to write some stuff out for Sahara, but the pricks broke a few of his fingers too, so—”

  Rocking, her arms wrapped around herself, Cat said, “This is all my fault. They were hurt because of me.”

  Before Leese could speak, Justice did.

  “Bullshit. That’s just stupid talk and I’m betting Leese will tell you so.”

  She looked up with big tearful eyes. “They wanted me.”

  “Yeah, but that ain’t the point.” Folding his arms over his chest, Justice glared at her. “Whoever worked over Enoch is a chickenshit coward. Hell, Enoch’s not much bigger than you, and you’re an itty-bitty thing.”

  She blinked up at Justice. “I don’t see—”

  “You’re not a coward. Just the opposite from what I can tell. So don’t piss me off by comparing yourself to them.”

  Shaking her head in confusion, she said, “I didn’t—”

  Miles asked, “Should I be hearing any of this?”

  “Probably not.” Leese took Cat’s arm and drew her from the chair. “Justice is right, but we’ll work all that out later. Right now you need to meet everyone, and then I want to get you someplace safe.” Where he could hash it out with her. She needed to completely trust him. Nothing less would do. Not anymore.

  With a lame cough, Justice said, “Those other two? They’re in comas.”

  Frustrated anger boiled inside Leese. “You’re fucking with me. Both of them?” He needed one of them alert enough to answer questions.

  “’Fraid so.” Justice glanced at Miles, shrugged and spilled his guts. “You crushed the bones in the one guy’s arm. It’s pretty fucked. But I’m guessing you kicked him in the head too?”

  “After he shot me.”

  “Well, he’s out and who knows if he’s going to come around?”

  Fascinated, Miles looked from one to the other as he listened.

  “The other one has some serious damage to his windpipe. They stuck a tube down his throat so he could breathe and they’re keeping him out on purpose.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Leese felt grim, but after all the violence, resolve coursed through his veins. “The penthouse is a crime scene so we can’t go back there.”

  “Sahara said she’s moving you both to her place. It’s a huge house. Plenty of privacy.”

  Leese stared at him, distracted. “How do you know what her house looks like?”

  Tugging at his ear, Justice admitted, “I just spent a few days there myself. Got snowed in.”

  No way. “You stayed with Sahara?” Huh. Hadn’t seen that one coming. “For days?”

  Pointing at him, Justice growled, “Get that thought outta your head right now!”

  “What thought?” Leese asked, just to make him squirm.

  “Stow the innocent act. You know what you’re thinking, so don’t bother denying it. But it’s not like that. The lady scares me, and besides, there ain’t a single speck of chemistry between us.”

  “Amen,” Sahara said as she breezed in.

  Justice went comically rigid, his gaze frozen forward.

  That didn’t stop Sahara from hugging one of his arms. “Justice was a complete gentleman, his presence made me feel safer and I appreciate him as a valued employee. Period.” Her attention settled on Miles, and she went into assessment mode. “Hello.”

  Wearing the smallest of smiles, Miles said, “Hey, yourself.”

  Hoping to hurry things along, Leese did introductions. “Miles, meet Sahara Silver, owner of the agency. Sahara, Miles Dartman, a friend.”

  “My,” she whispered, her gaze going all over him. “A fighter?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Justice tried to subtly shake her off, but she didn’t let go. He glared down at her. “I don’t want to be a party to your flirting.”

  Sahara hugged him again, then said to Leese, “We need to talk. Do you suppose these two could keep Catalina company for just a minute?”

  Miles and Justice both agreed, but Leese said an emphatic, “No. She’s not leaving my sight. Not here.”

  “Very well.” Sahara turned to the guys. “If you’d both excuse us?”

  “I’m waitin’ right out here,” Justice warned, then, while avoiding Sahara’s gaze, he explained, “I’m sort of her protection for now.”

  “Interesting.” Miles followed Justice, saying, “Guess I’ll wait with him.”

  “So gallant,” Sahara enthused, but the second they were gone, she closed the space to stand very near to Leese. “Those bastards hurt Enoch bad. He has two broken ribs, broken fingers, a concussion and he was nearly strangled to death. His throat is going to need time to heal. He wasn’t able to say much, and writing is difficult, but he did manage this.” She pulled a folded sheet of paper from her pocket and smoothed it out.

  Keeping Cat close, Leese read the broken scrawl. They wanted Cat. Would kill to get her.

  Cat drew in a deep breath. “I’m so sorry. I thought I was protecting you—”

  “By keeping us in the dark?” Leese knew he sounded harsh and didn’t care. The rage continued to simmer. She’d come so close to being hurt, to being taken by the very men who’d brutally savaged Enoch.

  She’d risked that, rather than confide in him.

  “Yes,” she admitted softly. “By keeping you in the dark.” Eyes pleading, she carefully hugged him. “Sometimes the truth is more dangerous than not knowing.”

  His jaw flexed, but he put his arms around her and relished the fact that she was here, with him, unharmed and still relatively safe.

  “If we can cease with self-recrimination, please, we have things to discuss.” Sahara kept her voice low. “Tesh stopped Justice and me in the parking lot right before the big storm hit.”

  More fed up by the second, Leese waited.

  “There’s been no way to tell you everything, but I may have a plan.”

  Yeah, Leese had a plan too: go after the people causing all the problems and end it once and for all.

  As if she knew his thoughts, Cat said, “Please, Leese. Please don’t do anything crazy.”

  Crazy? Loving her was crazy, but no way could he stop. The close call made him realize that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, and he’d do whatever was necessary to ensure her protection.

  Her gaze moved over his face, and she sighed. “That’s why I couldn’t tell you. I knew you’d want to confront them, but you can’t.” She hugged him again. “Not for me.”

  “It’s no longer just you, is it, honey? The bastards shot at me. They attacked Troy, they strangled Enoch. Odds are they meant for all of us to die.”

  “All,” Sahara said, “except for her.”

  Because they had something worse than death in store for Cat.

  “We can’t get into all that here,” Sahara said in a low voice. “We need to find someplace more private. For now, I’m going to stay with Enoch. I’m arranging for two guards to watch over him throughout the night. Two others will relieve them in the morning.” Her hands curled into fists. “He won’t be left alone.”

  Cat visibly shored up her courage. “Before either of you do anything, you need to know. It’s not just my stepfather behind this.”

  Because he already knew that, Leese demanded, “Give me a name.”

  With a fatalistic nod and a lot of dread, she whispered, “Senator Platt.”

  * * *

  LEESE FELT SICK. Cat had one of the most powerful political figures in modern history after her? He wanted to believe she’d misunderstood, but given everything that had happened, he didn’t think so.

  Senator Platt had a reputation for being benevolent, kind and caring, one of th
e few good men left in politics. His constituents adored him. The elderly revered him. He championed the poor and visited the troops and did every fucking thing a politician should do to win over the masses.

  All of it a ruse?

  He was absolutely wealthy enough, certainly had enough influence to buy silence when needed. Had the aging senator visited Désir Island?

  Had the miserable bastard raped and then murdered a young girl?

  Both Sahara and Cat had stayed silent while he led them down the hall to the room where his friends waited. Without asking any questions, Justice and Miles kept pace with them. Luckily the fighters were the only ones inside.

  Leese stepped in, and before anyone else could speak, he said, “I need a minute of ensured privacy.”

  The guys all looked at each other, then at Sahara and Cat, and they stood.

  “Three minutes, tops,” Armie Jacobson said as he walked past. “My curiosity won’t hold any longer than that.”

  As they exited the room, Cannon, Stack and Denver each had something to say, Cannon with concern, Stack ribbing him about two women, and Denver saying, “’Bout time, man.”

  Sahara, still stunned by Cat’s disclosure, stared at the departing fighters with a mix of awe, appreciation and calculation.

  Once they were alone with the door closed and barred by fighters, Sahara turned to Leese.

  She opened her mouth twice before she managed to get out any words. “We’ll talk about your friends later.”

  Leese didn’t want to talk about them at all. “I figure the senator is a priority.”

  “Yes.” Hand to her head, Sahara murmured, “I never imagined...but I suppose it makes sense.”

  Ah, so Sahara had taken the same road to logic that Leese had? “Proving it will be tough.” But he refused to believe it would be impossible. He looked at Cat’s pale face, stiff with a mask of control. “Tesh works for him?”

  “For as long as I’ve known him.” She glanced away while admitting, “I met the senator when I met Tesh, when I was eighteen. I’ve seen Tesh without Platt, but not the other way around. Far as I can tell the senator doesn’t go anywhere without Tesh.”

  “So,” Sahara surmised, “Tesh is working under the senator’s orders.”