by Jo Davis
“You have a call, sir,” Simon informed him in that steady tone.
“Take a message.”
“It’s of the utmost importance.”
“Damn,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. Knowing Simon, the call was urgent or he wouldn’t have interrupted. “Hang on.”
Scooting from the bed, he ignored his companions’ pouts and pulled on a pair of jeans he retrieved from the end. Stalking to the door, he opened it and slipped into the hallway, shutting it behind him. Simon stood with his hand covering the mouth of the phone, worry in his eyes. That alone chilled Michael’s soul.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Agent Kelly, sir. There’s been an incident.” He held out the phone. “Let me know if I can be of assistance.”
Michael took the phone and waited until the older man disappeared around the corner before speaking. “Blaze? What’s going on?”
“Michael, listen to me. First of all, Bastian is okay—”
“What happened?” he demanded. Christ, his best friend had been gone only an hour. What could have taken place since then?
“He was followed and the guy shot at him, ran him off the road. He rolled the Porsche, but listen—he’s okay,” Blaze emphasized. “Bastian called for backup, but he already had the asshole subdued when we arrived.”
“Thank God,” Michael breathed. “Where is Bastian now? Put him on the phone.”
“I can’t. McKay’s checking him out. He’s got some cuts and bruises, maybe a concussion—”
“What?” he shouted. His knees turned to rubber. “You said he was okay! I’m on my way.”
“That’s not necessary. I wanted you to know, that’s all. The assailant’s in a cell, but he’s not talking.”
“I’ll be there in forty minutes or less.”
Ending the call, he yelled for Simon. Like magic, the man appeared from around the corner. No doubt he’d listened to every word. He handed the old butler the phone. “Bastian had some trouble on the way to work. I’ve got to go.”
“Will he be all right, sir?”
“I think so. See my guests out, would you? They drove their own car, so they won’t need a ride.”
He sniffed. “With pleasure.”
There it was again, the disapproval. He didn’t have time for this. “I’m driving myself to work, and before you say anything, yes, I’m well enough.”
“I was going to ask whether that’s wise, considering that his trouble might have been calculated to goad you into rushing off alone.”
He stared at the old man. “You’re pretty smart, you know that?”
“So are you, but you’re upset. One of us must retain his wits.”
“You’re right.” His mind scrambled for calm despite his urgency to get to Bastian. “Ring security. Tell them I need the car and an armed man to ride with me. I’ll have a shower and meet them out front in ten. And, Simon, thanks.”
“You’re most welcome.”
The old man left to do as Michael asked. Michael returned to the bedroom and gave the ladies a lighthearted smile he didn’t quite carry off. “Emergency. I have to go, so you’ll need to get dressed. Simon will show you out.”
“Aww, I thought we were gonna spend the day together,” Jackie whined.
Jeri punched her in the arm. “Shush. Can’t you see something’s happened?” To Michael, she said, “I hope everything is all right. Call us?”
“Sure.” Somehow, he didn’t think he would, no matter how much he’d enjoyed their company. “I had a great time. Truly.”
They began gathering their clothes and getting dressed. He gave them each a brief kiss, but didn’t wait for them to leave before hitting the shower. He made short work of the task, and donned a pair of nice black pants and a white dress shirt. A shoulder holster containing his gun and a jacket over it completed the ensemble, and he made it out front with one minute to spare.
With the attempt on Bastian, all bets were off.
Michael Ross was officially back at the helm, and God help Dietz or anyone else who hurt those he cared for. His gut twisted in cold rage.
“You’re going to pay, motherfucker.”
Four
Katrina was headed for Michael’s office to report her findings on the pinhole camera when the man himself rounded a corner ahead and dashed for the elevator.
“Michael, wait!” She quickened her steps to catch up, reaching him as the elevator doors slid open and he ducked inside. Following him, she blew out a breath. “I was just on my way to speak with you.”
“About?”
“The camera,” she reminded him. “I stayed up half the night, but I located the problem.”
“Oh. That.” He looked distracted, and practically vibrated with impatience.
She frowned. “Yes, that. You know, the little technical failure you reamed my butt over last night? Seems the unit had a faulty microchip, a manufacturer defect isolated to the batch we recently received. I mailed them all back this morning and they’re sending out a new order.”
He nodded, expression tense. “Good.”
Good? That’s it? “Okay, what’s going on?” Her gaze strayed to the panel and she noted the single lit button. “Why are you going to the fourth floor?”
“I don’t recall making it your business.”
“You’re obviously upset, and I care,” she said softly. “So I made it my business.”
The elevator glided to a smooth stop and the doors slid open. As they emerged, Michael grasped her upper arm and gently steered her away from the open doors of the compound’s hospital. He glanced up and down the hallway before he spoke, and let go of her arm. “This morning, an attempt was made on Bastian’s life,” he said in a rough voice tinged with anger that wasn’t directed at her.
The blood drained from her face. “Oh my God. Is he all right?”
“Agent Kelly said he was, but I’m here to see for myself.”
“Was it Dietz?”
“The assassin is in lockup, isolated from the one who almost killed me, but yeah. I’m pretty sure it was Dietz.” He looked as though he would strangle his former colleague with his bare hands, given the chance.
“But why would he target Bastian?”
“Why else? To get to me.” He closed his eyes as though in pain. “It never occurred to me he’d go after Bastian. God, I’m so stupid.”
“No, you’re not.” Reaching up, she touched his face. “You don’t think like a monster, that’s all.”
Opening his eyes, he took her hand and held it between them. “I get paid well to outwit the monsters, and sometimes that means thinking like one. Why I can’t seem to get the drop on Robert is beyond me.”
“You will,” she promised him. She believed that with all her soul. “In the meantime, let’s go see your friend.”
“You’ll go with me?”
A wistful expression crossed his face and tugged at her heart. This man had no one except Bastian, and someone had tried to take him from Michael. “Of course. Come on.”
Keeping hold of his hand, she tugged him inside, where a nurse quickly showed them to the cubicle where Bastian lay on a small bed. A butterfly bandage was stark against his tanned forehead, but no other evidence of injuries was present. He looked fine, if a little bored. When they entered, he momentarily brightened, but immediately seemed to withdraw as he watched Michael come in. Katrina wondered again what was going on with these two lately.
“Hey, buddy, how are you feeling?” Michael let go of Katrina’s hand and sat by Bastian’s bed, unable to hide his worry.
“I’m fine. Ready to get out of here.” His attention strayed to Katrina and his face brightened again. “Hey there. Checking up on me?”
She smiled. “Absolutely. I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks. Me, too.”
Michael interrupted. “Concussion?”
“Mild. I only threw up once.” Bastian eyed his friend’s suit. “You’re awful dressed up for some
one who’s not back at work yet.”
“I am now,” Michael said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “This changes everything. I’m here to stay, and I don’t want to hear a word about it, other than ‘you can count on me to be here at your side.’ ”
Bastian hesitated, appearing ready to argue, then relented. Probably realized it would do no good. “You always can. You know that.”
“Good. Now, this assassin—did you recognize him?”
“No, but he’s an amateur.”
“How so?”
“Other than the fact that I’m alive with barely a scratch? He thought he was taking out a cop. Demanded to be read his rights.” Bastian gave a short laugh and winced, holding his ribs. “Imagine his surprise to learn we don’t exist, and now neither does he.”
Michael tapped a finger over his lips thoughtfully. “So, not only is Dietz resorting to amateur hit men, but he’s withholding crucial details. He’s letting his emotions rule, and since we broke up his small army, he’s getting desperate.”
Bastian agreed. “Before, his goal was the money and power he’d gain from selling the stolen bomb. With those stripped from him, his only goal is revenge. Which makes him even more dangerous.”
Katrina couldn’t help the shiver that crawled up her spine. “Sounds like you two ought to keep a low profile until Dietz is neutralized.”
“That’s exactly what we don’t want to do,” Michael said. “If he can’t get to us, we can’t get to him, either. We need to lure him out of his hole, and that means being seen.”
“With backup always on standby,” Bastian clarified.
Made sense, but she didn’t like it. Problem was, she couldn’t tell them what to do. They weren’t her men, as much as she wished differently. Even if they were, she silently amended, she still wouldn’t be able to order them around.
“Knock, knock.” They all looked to see Emma standing in the doorway, concern marring her attempt to appear chipper. “A great big birdie named Blaze told me that our fearless CEO almost got his ass killed. You okay?”
“Not even close, and I’m fine,” Bastian muttered. Sitting up, he swung his legs off the bed. “That’s it. Somebody tell McKay to sign my papers. I’m going to my office, changing my shirt, and getting some work done like I’d planned to do all along.”
“You’re going home,” Michael ordered.
“No, I’m not.” Bastian glared back at his friend, and then addressed the room in general. “In fact, I’m having a drink or three after work, if anyone cares to join me. I’ve earned it.”
“Whether you want to admit it or not, you’re not going to feel like going out tonight,” their boss insisted. “Wait until tomorrow and we’ll see if you’re up to it.”
Emma cleared her throat. “I have an idea.” Once she had everyone’s undivided attention, she continued. “Katrina and I had plans to have a few drinks tomorrow after work, but in light of this morning’s attempt on Bastian, my overprotective man has strictly forbidden me to go out without him escorting me.”
This came as no surprise to Katrina, or anyone else in the room, she figured. Just weeks ago, Dietz had kidnapped Emma and held her hostage when he escaped from one of SHADO’s prison cells. The bastard had intended to kill her before Blaze and some other agents located and rescued her. Emma posed no more threat to Dietz and he had no reason to harm her now, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t, given how unstable Michael and Bastian believed he’d become.
“What do you have in mind?” Michael asked curiously.
Emma went on. “A group outing with the five of us—me, Blaze, Katrina, and you two. I know Blaze will be fine with going, and I’m pretty sure Katrina won’t mind having two gorgeous dates.”
“Mind? Are you kidding?” Katrina teased. “With these guys along, I’m more than capable of amusing myself if you guys get . . . occupied.”
Emma grinned. “Great. It’ll be fun! If Bastian is feeling up to it by then, that is.”
“I don’t know . . .” Michael began.
“I’m in,” Bastian said. His smile lit the small room. He smacked his friend on the arm. “Come on, don’t be such a stick in the mud. We’ll have a great time.”
“Some of us more than others.” The glare Michael shot his friend could have stripped paint off a car.
Bastian seemed puzzled for a moment, then his face flushed. “You’ll have a blast, I promise.”
Emma glanced between the two men, a hint of a smirk teasing her lips. “Guaranteed, or your money back.”
Apparently, Bastian got the comment, but Katrina was lost. If she didn’t get some answers soon about the strange tension between her bosses, she’d scream.
“I, for one, would adore having two hot men on my arm,” Katrina couldn’t resist saying. Bastian’s eyes twinkled as he grinned at her, and Michael gave her a long, searching look, as though he’d never seen her before. As a woman. Awareness touched all her nerve endings with delicious heat.
“Fine, I’ll come,” Michael said, relenting. “A regular club, though, not Blaze’s D/s hangout. I don’t think the rest of us are into the public scene.” Everyone nodded in agreement, and Emma laughed.
“I’ll let him know. How about eight o’clock, drinks and dancing at Daddy’s Money?”
“Um, the crowd there is kind of young. How about Shakers?” Michael asked the group, and no one seemed to care.
Emma hugged Bastian, careful not to squeeze too hard. “Don’t overdo it, and get some rest, okay? See you later.”
After she was gone, Michael turned his attention back to his friend. “You still insist on staying?”
“Yep. I’m good.” He stood and walked around a bit to demonstrate, his movements stiff but basically functioning near normal. At least on the surface.
“You’re going to be really sore by tomorrow,” Michael observed. “Maybe too much to dance.”
His friend shrugged. “We’ll see. If nothing else, I’ll watch. But I’m not about to stay home like Cinderella while you guys shake your booties.”
“You mean Cinderfella.”
“You are such an asswipe.”
Katrina chuckled, following them out of the hospital area as they continued to bicker like a couple of old men. Beneath all the bluster was a real love that shone through between them, something she wasn’t sure they even realized. And she wanted in on that, however possible. Maybe it wasn’t going to happen, but bad odds had never stopped her from trying.
Their “date” couldn’t get here fast enough.
Five hundred miles away, Robert Dietz paced the dingy motel room, hands clenched into fists to still their trembling. Rage, his ever-present companion these past few weeks, slithered under his skin and expanded, threatening to split him wide open.
It was almost a separate entity, demanding retribution for the empire he’d held so briefly in his hands and lost.
No, it wasn’t lost, as one would lose a wallet or a set of car keys. It was taken by Michael Ross. Starched, uptight Michael. Patriot, law-abiding citizen, everybody’s fucking hero. No shades of gray in his narrow world, no room in his tiny brain to understand that sometimes greatness could be achieved only by veering off the path.
Three bullets at point-blank range should’ve killed the bastard. By the time I’m done screwing with him, he’ll wish they had.
Maggie’s death had been a good start. Robert should’ve been more patient, played with Michael longer before reaching for the prize. Nothing for it except to rectify that mistake, starting with Bastian Chevalier.
A key scraped in the lock and he spun to see Tio enter, shutting the door behind him. “Well?” he demanded. “What’s the word?”
The big, ugly Mexican shook his head. “Our man failed. He’s in custody at SHADO, and Chevalier hardly got a scratch on him.”
“Goddammit!” The rage exploded, and he swept the lamp and phone from the top of the nearby desk. They hit the floor with a clatter and he stood panting, hands braced on the surface
. He needed to destroy something vital, but he was neutered, stuck here in this shithole, hundreds of miles from his target and depending on imbeciles to do his job.
At least he had the money to pay them, thanks to bounty from false investments funneled into his account by his former partners, Augustine Kosta and Ralph Meyer. While the pair had been arrested and a few of the accounts seized, thankfully not all of the money had been traced.
Tio was unperturbed, as usual. “What now?”
He thought for a few moments, reaching for calm, and then slowly straightened. “Continue to have our other contact monitor Chevalier’s movements and wait for an opportunity. Then he’s to strike immediately, make it look like something it isn’t.”
“Like a bashing?”
“Exactly. But tell them to leave a special calling card, one Ross won’t fail to identify as my work. Understand?”
“Yeah.” Tio grinned.
“And, Tio? I want Chevalier dead,” he said coldly. “If it isn’t done, I’ll be forced to take matters into my own hands. And that will get very messy for everyone.”
Even Tio would’ve paled, had he been capable. Robert never dirtied his own hands if he could help it.
To chip away at Michael’s soul until he begged Robert to end him? He’d make an exception.
“Bastian, wait!”
Bastian stopped and turned at the sound of a familiar, welcome voice and smiled at Katrina, who jogged to catch up with him. “Hey, Red. What can I do for you?” He had a few thoughts on the matter of what to do for her, none of which were appropriate for a boss to entertain about his beautiful employee.
Catching up, she gave him the Death Glare. “A couple of things. First, don’t call me Red. The last guy who did that had to get his nose reset.”
He wasn’t fooled—the touch of humor in her voice betrayed that she wasn’t really angry, and he couldn’t imagine her striking anyone. But he played along. “Ouch. Wouldn’t want to ruin my pretty profile. What’s the second thing?”
