by Sabrina York
“Fucking bitch!” he howled through the blood pouring from his nostrils.
“I’m the bitch?” she bellowed. And yeah, her fury was high. How dare he call her a bitch, the fucker! She hauled back and landed another punch to his kidneys. It should have flattened him, but he was tougher than he looked. He reared up and made a run at her, slamming into her and then plowing them both into the wall.
The impact made her head spin.
She needed her weapon. She needed her fucking weapon. The way he was holding her, she couldn’t reach the blade strapped to her other ankle, so she feigned a faint. He bought it and barked a laugh, letting her go.
But not for long.
Even as her fingers curled around the blade, he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her bodily across the room, to where he’d dropped his SIG. Then he held her still as he picked it up and set it to her temple.
From the position she was in, facing him with most of her body behind him, she couldn’t wrench away. But she didn’t need to. Without thought, because there was no time for such luxuries, she angled her knife and plunged it into him. She’d been aiming for the tender flesh in the back, between his legs, but at the last second, he shifted and she hit his thigh.
He screamed and dropped her so he could yank the blade out and toss it across the room, but before she could scuttle away, the meagre few inches to reach her weapon, he grabbed her again and set the barrel to her forehead once more.
Their gazes met. Clung.
Panic clawed at her throat.
This is it, she thought. This was the end.
“I want you to know, I didn’t want to do this,” he said. “I really liked you. I’m sorry.”
And in response, she spat in his face, knowing it would be the last thing she’d ever do.
Chapter Six
Goddamn it all anyway.
Who the fuck did Ace think he was, flirting with her?
Flirting.
Watching them, listening to it, had made his blood boil. Made his gut churn. Made a bitter taste flood his mouth.
But he wasn’t just annoyed at them. He was ticked at himself too.
She was a hooker.
A freaking hooker.
He had no business feeling this way about her. This wasn’t Lonesome Dove. She wasn’t the whore with the heart of gold. And he was no hero.
He was hardly competing with Ace and Coop for her affections.
And his behavior this morning? He’d never gone off like that. Well, maybe once, but it was not his nature to let a stressful situation get to him.
His thoughts were so chaotic, he almost drove off the road. It was a windy track, with woods on either side, and he was hurtling down the hill like a bat out of hell.
If he kept this up, he’d kill himself, so he slowed. Took a breath. Tried to relax.
It was then he realized he’d stormed out of the cabin so fast he’d forgotten his wallet.
Shit.
He had to go back.
He found a spot where he could turn around and drove back to the cabin. He was on the porch when a bellow startled him. It was a feral yowl, like that of a wild animal who’d been wounded…and it came from inside.
It was followed by other noises, noises that did not emerge from a friendly game of poker.
Something cold slithered down his spine and he sucked in a breath, pulled his weapon and burst through the door.
His heart stalled when he took in a horrific scene. He barely even registered Ace’s lifeless body. Nearly all his attention was captured by the sight of Vixen on the floor at Cooper’s feet. He had a hold of her hair and the barrel of his SIG pressed to her forehead.
In that moment, a savage beast rose in him. That, and a ferocious, blinding need for blood.
He launched himself forward and slammed into Cooper, taking him by surprise. His gun flew and Cooper landed on the floor with a thud, and Matt with him. The fall stunned him, but only for a second.
That was all Cooper needed. He rolled, taking Matt with him, and just that quickly he lost the upper hand. They fought like beasts, snarling and snapping and pummeling each other whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Matt got in a few good blows, but so did Coop. It was a sweaty, gritty and dirty fight. And, unfortunately, his sparring buddy knew all his weaknesses. Before long, Coop had him on his back with tight hands around his throat and was choking the life out of him.
He struggled to rebound; he couldn’t bear it if she perished because he wasn’t strong enough. As he gasped his last breath, the thought flickered through his brain that he was an idiot.
Nothing mattered at the end.
Nothing.
Not his pride or his hunger or his guilt.
He wished he’d done things differently, but at the top of the list was the searing wish that he’d kissed her one more time before—
Something whizzed toward him. He saw it in the periphery of his dimming vision. It looked like a shoe.
Ah. It was. And it connected with Cooper’s face.
A fresh shower of blood spewed, and Cooper yelped and lost his hold on Matt’s throat.
Another shoe appeared, this time connecting with Cooper’s chest, and he went flying to the left.
Matt blinked, trying to focus on the vision before him. Vixen, standing there with her hands in fists and her legs apart, poised in a standard MMA stance. She studied Coop’s crumpled body for a moment before she turned to Matt and thrust out her hand.
It was humiliating that she had to help him up, but he was a mass of bruises. Before he was on his feet, she was rounding the room collecting weapons. Two pistols and a knife, if his count was right.
“What the hell happened?” he asked, though the words hardly made it out of his ravaged throat.
She waggled a gun in Cooper’s direction. “He shot Ace and then tried to kill me.”
To his shock, her tone was casual, as though such things happened to hookers every day.
But then, maybe it did.
She tucked one of the pistols into the back of her jeans and then, to his shock, slipped the knife into a sheath strapped to one ankle and the SIG into a holster on the other. She crossed her arms over her chest and pinned him with a sharp glance. “Do you have any zip ties? I’m fresh out.”
He gaped at her, because nothing she was saying was making any sense and he seriously doubted it had much to do with the beating he’d taken. “Um, zip ties?”
She waved at Coop, who hadn’t moved an eyelash. “I’d like to secure him, ASAP.”
ASAP? What kind of hooker used military vernacular?
A pretty damn tough one.
“I have some in my bag,” he said, and headed off to the bedroom in a trot. It only took him seconds to find them, but that was seconds too long.
Sounds of a scuffle rose from the living room, then a crash followed by three shots in quick succession. His blood froze in his veins.
Fuck. He should never have left her there, alone with Cooper. Cooper was a highly trained warrior, a lethal weapon and, apparently, a rat-fucking-bastard. What on earth had he been thinking?
He bolted back into the living room and skidded to a halt, nearly collapsing in relief to see that Vixen was all right. More than all right. She stood before the shattered window, in an irrefutably military stance, sighting her pistol in tracking formation, releasing one slow shot after another.
She lowered the weapon and blew out a sigh, then glanced at him. “He got away.”
“What?”
“He was playing possum. As soon as you left the room, he tried to tackle me—”
“The fuck—”
“It’s okay,” she said with a sniff. “I don’t think he’ll be peeing straight for a week. I kneed him in the nads.”
“Good for you.”
“Again.”
“Again?”
“Yeah. That’s twice today. I think I winged him too.” For some reason, she grinned. Like the Cheshire cat. “But he g
ot away.” She eyed the window, as though it were at fault for being made of something so fragile.
“Are you okay?” He had to ask. She looked so tiny, so vulnerable.
“I’m fine. But we should get out of here. He’ll be coming back.”
“How can you be so sure?”
She raked him with a caustic glance. “That’s what I would do.”
“You…?”
Yeah. It took a minute for it to bubble through his brain, the realization that she wasn’t what she seemed. Typically, streetwalkers did not indulge in elite military training. “You’re not really a hooker, are you?”
“Not hardly.” She tipped her head to the side. “But my name is Vixen LaFleur.” For some reason, she smiled.
“But… How… What…”
She silenced his burbling with a slash of her hand. “Later. We need to blow this pop stand, Hot Rod. Like now.”
“Right.” He nodded. “I need to get you somewhere safe.” He didn’t understand her amused expression, so he frowned at her. “What?”
“Nothing.” She patted his chest. “It’s just cute the way you think you’re protecting me—”
“Of course I am—”
“When I’m the one actually protecting you.”
With a smirk, she slipped the SIG into the back of her jeans and sashayed into her room to pack…leaving him standing there with his jaw on the floor and a really stupid look on his face.
When they exited the cabin, Matt growled a curse. Not only had Cooper taken the SUV, he’d punctured the tires of the other vehicle. He turned to Vixen with a frown. “Looks like we’re on foot.”
She nodded and readjusted the bag on her shoulder. “Yeah. And I’m guessing Cooper is waiting down the road for us.” The exchanged a glance. “How well do you know this area?”
He shrugged. “Been here a few times on WitPro. It’s mostly scrub. Maybe a few hunting cabins. Closest town is Salvation, about ten miles thataway.” He thrust his thumb to the west.
“Feel up for a hike?” Her grin was dauntless. He liked it. Liked her fearlessness. Her pluck. It was going to be a hell of a trek through the wilderness, and avoiding Cooper—and any of Don Reymundo’s minions who might be lurking—was only one of their worries. It was hot, deserted and there were rattlers.
But he nodded. “Sure thing. But we should switch out our gear.”
“Right.”
“There are survival packs in the car.” He popped the trunk and pulled out a backpack filled with water, MREs and other emergency supplies that were SOP on every mission. To his surprise, she grabbed one as well. “That’s heavy,” he said, but before the words were out, she’d hefted the sixty-pound pack and whipped it onto her back and then proceeded to tighten the straps like a pro.
“Ready?” she asked. Again, he was gaping like a turkey in the rain.
“Um, yeah.” But he took the time to transfer some of his stuff from his bag. Not that he’d need a toothbrush in the bush, but he’d never leave his journal behind.
“I think we should head out the back way and circle around to town,” she suggested before he had a chance to. And then, without speaking and in tandem, they both cut leafy branches off a shrub to scour away their footprints. It occurred to him that her training had been eerily similar to his. He ached to ask her about her background, but they both knew this wasn’t the time for a chat.
They had to get away, and far, before Cooper returned. And he would. With backup.
Even though she insisted she was here to protect him, he was determined to keep her safe too. Whether she liked it or not.
They made their way to the crest of the hill and then wound down to the valley below, following a natural ravine. They could use it for cover if they came under fire. Matt scanned the flatlands before them and grunted. “We should probably stick to the tree line,” he said.
“Yeah, and I think I see a river there.” She pointed to the left. “We can use it to disguise our scents.” He shot her a surprised glance and she tipped her head to the side. “You know. In case they bring in dogs.”
“That happen a lot in your profession?” It was probably a bad time to crack a joke, but he was still stinging over the fact that she’d lied about her identity.
She blew out a breath. “Come on. It’s SERE 101.” Survival, Escape, Resistance, and Evasion courses were standard. “You should know that, Hot Rod.”
“And why do you keep calling me that?” It made the little hairs on his neck stand up. Not the words, the tone.
“Because it fits,” she said, plunging onward, leaving him in her wake.
“But what does it mean?”
Her laugh floated on the air, dancing back to him. “Figure it out yourself.”
Goddamn it. That was hardly fair.
He’d get an answer from her, this he vowed. It might take the whole journey, but he would.
Sam swatted at the cloud of no-see-ums hovering over her head. It was damn hot with the sun burning down, her thighs were screaming and the straps of her backpack were cutting into her shoulders, but she wasn’t going to expose her misery to Matt. No way, no how. She was in excellent shape, but this was rugged terrain and really took it out of her.
“You okay?” he asked.
She offered a blithe grin. “Walk in the park, baby. Walk in the park.”
“You sure you don’t need to rest?”
“Rest? What are you, a girlie man?”
“I don’t need to rest. I just thought you might need to take a break.”
“Me?”
“You’re limping.”
Yeah. Blisters were forming. “That’s my natural gait. Besides, we’re out in the open.” They’d headed for the river—little more than a stream this time of year, but enough to cover their scent…and judging from the noxious cloud rising from her armpits, there was definitely a scent—and then splashed through it for a couple miles before emerging on the other bank and doubling back. There was a stand of scruffy trees ahead, next to a rocky bluff in the distance, and she’d fixed her gaze on that spot. She pointed. “We can rest there, if you’re tired.”
“Did I say I’m tired?”
She batted her lashes. “You look tired.”
“You look tired.” He muttered something else that was indistinguishable, and then added, “That pack is sixty pounds.”
“Standard issue.” She tossed back her head and increased her pace, just to be obnoxious.
He launched into a jog to catch up. “Speaking of which… Want to tell me who you are and why you were posing as a hooker?”
“Not really.”
He glowered.
“But I will.”
She took about seventy-five more steps before he barked, “Well?”
It took some effort to hide her smile. “I work for the Guardian Angel Protection Services.”
He blinked. “What?”
“Heard of it?”
“Who hasn’t? But what the hell is a GAPS agent doing on an Omega Team mission?”
“Can’t you guess?” She shot him a glance, just in time to see him pale. “Grey suspected a traitor after the South American mission.”
“Shit.”
“I was sent in to try to flush him out. And, of course, protect Grey’s other assets.” Her heart lurched. “I’m sorry about Ace, by the way. I wasn’t quick enough. Cooper just flipped. There wasn’t any warning.”
“I’m just glad he didn’t get you too.”
Yeah. “Me too.” He almost had. “I’m glad you came back.”
He lifted a shoulder. “I forgot my wallet.”
She grinned at him. “Did you remember to bring it this time?”
“Of course.”
“Excellent. When we get to town, you’re buying me dinner.”
“Sounds good.”
“And a beer.”
“Okay.”
She wiped the sweat from her brow. “Maybe six.”
“Deal.” They were silent as they naviga
ted a particularly rough patch of terrain. Then he said, “You know, I think we’re doing this backwards.”
“Hmm?”
“We should find a place to hole up during the day, and travel at night.”
“And break an ankle?”
“We can go slowly. But we’re getting dehydrated in this heat.”
Damn. He was right. Her mouth felt like she was sucking on a cotton ball. “Okay. Let’s see if those trees up there provide enough cover.”
In mutual consent, they both sped up.
It seemed to take forever to get to the stand, and when they did it was clear there was no way they would be concealed by these mangy growths, but Matt spotted what looked like a cave hollowed out of the red sandstone of the bluff and they headed there.
It was bliss stepping into the shade of that cavern. It was large and relatively cool and delightfully deficient of critters. With a heavy sigh, Sam dropped her pack and rubbed her aching shoulders. Matt did the same, and then pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his face. She riffled around in her pack for a water bottle, took a sip and handed it to him.
“How far do you think we’ve come?” she asked.
“’Bout halfway.”
She nodded. She’d calculated the same. It had taken longer than five miles normally would, because of all their diversionary tactics, but they’d been well worth it.
“Of course,” he said, “we’re probably not heading directly toward town.” They were following the valley, not a road. Beyond that, judging from the angle of the sun, they were veering off at an angle.
“Understood.” She riffled more until she found an MRE and checked the label. Chicken Alfredo. Yuck. She shoved it back in and pulled out another. It took a moment for her to realize he was staring at her. She frowned at him. “What?”
“You’re something, you know.”
She had no idea what he meant, but she liked the glimmer in his eyes.
“Most women would be wailing and complaining by now.”
“I find that comment to be highly misogynistic.”
He grimaced. “I didn’t mean it that way. Just, you’re really holding up well.”
