by Dawn Ryder
A lot harder than he wanted to admit to himself, much less her.
CHAPTER THREE
God, he felt good.
Ginger let out a little sigh, shifting as she felt the way Saxon Hale moved beside her, behind her, guiding her with a touch on her hip that was shockingly erotic. Man-oh-man, she’d never guessed that a simple grip on the curve of her hip might send a bolt of excitement down her body. Only that wasn’t the end of it. The current of sensation came zipping back up her legs and landed in her core, making her feel like everything inside her was warm and molten. Her clothing was bugging the tar out of her because what she really wanted was to strip.
She felt Saxon turn her again, only this time, she was face to face with Kitten. The eyes that had fascinated Ginger so much were full of something horrible. It burned right through her, leaving her fighting to escape, only she couldn’t seem to get any traction. She was digging her feet into the ground, felt her skin tearing beneath her toes because of how hard she was struggling and still, Kitten was there, slowly lifting her hand and pointing at her.
Ginger tried to scream, but no sound came out of her throat. Instead she heard Kitten’s neck breaking and felt her own throat tightening with the knowledge that she was next … next …
“Ginger.”
She came awake with a start, pulling her knees up and kicking out at whoever was shaking her. Her brain escaped the hold of the dream just in time to absorb the look of surprise on Saxon’s face as she planted her bare feet in the center of his chest and sent him tumbling into the aisle of the plane. Shock froze her as he landed on his backside and stared at her incredulously.
There was a choking sound from farther up the aisle, where Dare Servant stood in the doorway between the cockpit and the cabin.
“I’m really sorry…” she sputtered. “I was dreaming.”
Dare was still choking and hiding his lips behind a coffee mug. Saxon turned to look at his fellow agent as he climbed to his feet. Dare was unimpressed with the look Saxon sent him. Dare lifted two fingers to his temple in a mock salute before he turned around and ducked down to enter the cockpit.
Saxon looked down at his shirt, where her feet had left three bright red blood spots from her cut-up feet.
It was a sobering sight, one that combined with the way her skin was tingling from the nightmare.
Real …
It was all so … bluntly … real.
She felt like circumstances were trying to kick her butt.
Well, I’ll just kick back.
“We’ll get you some shoes when we land.”
“Which will be when?” She asked mostly to get her brain chewing on another topic.
“About an hour, I would have let you sleep but it was clear you were having a nightmare.”
He was back to being in control and seeing far more than she was comfortable with. Ginger stretched out her legs and froze when her muscles protested. She felt every scrap and strain now. In fact, her shoulder was killing her. She reached up to rub it but regretted it when pain went stabbing through her.
“Looks like the shock has worn off,” he said knowingly.
All in a day’s work …
It was harrowing to see how accustomed he was to the situation. She was back to feeling like he needed a good laugh, which was funny all in itself because Saxon Hale wasn’t the sort of man who needed her to fix his life for him.
Get a grip on those mental fantasies girl …
She felt a chill touch her nape. “I’m fine.” Ginger turned to look out the window but snapped her attention back to him when she heard the little grunt he gave her in response.
“F-I-N-E.” She spelled out the word. “Because I am not going to cry over it.”
His eyebrows rose, and he nodded approvingly.
He was suddenly close again, leaning against the seat across the aisle from her. “I know exactly where you’re at, Ginger Melody Boyce. You can kick it in the teeth or crumble. So far, you’re kicking the shit out of it. Not bad.” He turned and walked back toward the cockpit while his words bounced around her brain.
Not bad.
Crap.
She liked the sound of that way too much for her own good. Especially for how clear he’d been about the fact that they wouldn’t be staying together.
You are heading for a really bad case of getting burned while playing with fire.
Oh, that much was true, but all she seemed to notice was what a great set of buns Saxon Hale had. He was wearing business slacks that were a little worse for wear and stained with grass. Somehow, they were sexier than tight jeans. The little bit of additional fabric just made her want to watch him as he walked, waiting for the wool to pull tight and give her a glimpse of what he had under it because he didn’t go around flaunting it. Naw, he saved it for the right girl.
You’re going to hell …
No she wasn’t. There was no way God was so spiteful as to deny her a little enjoyment considering what she’d just been through. Fine, she was negotiating, and somewhere in her brain were the fragments of a psychology lecture on shock and the responses of the human brain to sudden trauma.
Screw it.
She was suddenly really done with everything and everyone. Saxon had given her a gun and she was going to crawl inside that morsel of trust and take the comfort she could.
Saxon was coming back, making her fight to hide how uncertain she was. His approval of her was the only thing going right at the moment, and she wasn’t going to blow it. He handed her a tray.
“Now that shock has worn off, you’re likely hungry.”
Her belly decided to rumble as the scent of the food touched her nose. Saxon flipped the toggle latch holding the fold-down tray to the back of the seat in front of her to drop it, and placed the tray on it.
“You’ll get mad next,” he said. “Not that I blame you. Life kicked you in the teeth. Still,” he reached down and plucked his gun off her waist band. “I can’t hand you over armed. Sorry.”
And just that fast, her house of cards came down.
It was indeed an epic crash and burn.
She looked at the food and did her best to be interested in it. It beat letting him see what a mess she was dissolving into. At least it wasn’t very hard to dredge up an appetite. The tray held a cold sandwich, but she was suddenly so hungry she could smell the bread and cheese and even the mustard like it was ten times as much. Her belly rumbled again, low and deep as her mouth actually started watering.
Saxon had retreated to one of the front seats, giving her only a view of the back of his head and neck. Even if he’d been watching her, she doubted she could have stopped herself from shoving the sandwich into her face and gnawing on it like a starving dog. Hell, it took a lot of effort to pull her head back and take a breath of air before going in for another chunk of it.
She felt like she’d stretched her throat because she hadn’t chewed her food enough. Her mouth was dry since she hadn’t even taken the cap off the bottle of water. A little package of painkillers caught her eye, reducing her once again to feeling pitiful.
Hell, the guy was taking care of her. Her adventure had turned into a Stephen King version of an expedition. A horror story.
She finished off every last scrap of her meal and drained the water bottle before the painkillers kicked in. She picked up the package the pain medication had come in but it was clearly labeled as Aleve. Nothing out of the ordinary, but she was shutting down, slumping against the side of the plane as her body refused to soldier on. The vibration of the aircraft rocked her to sleep even as she tried to argue with herself about staying alert.
* * *
“This is turning into a mess, Martin,” Carl Davis hissed.
“It was already a mess,” Tyler retorted. “I’m the man trying to clean it up. Marc Grog would already be in front of a judge being read the list of charges against him if I hadn’t been there to offer him an alternative.”
“You shouldn’t have let a witn
ess see the Raven working in the first place,” Carl countered. “Why do you think I sent you down there?”
“To make the most of the right opportunity,” Tyler replied. “Which was not going to be as simple as me telling Marc what a fine service I’d provided by dropping that little mouse in front of him. A man like him wouldn’t understand the full implication of just how big a service that would have been. That’s why I watched it all go down and didn’t move until he understood how much he needed me.”
There was a moment of silence before Carl answered. “Got it. You’re right. Marc is a prick with an ego the size of Lake Ontario. Since he faked his death, he thinks he’s untouchable. What do you need?”
“Flight plan on that plane,” Tyler said. “And a team to meet it, one you won’t mind me getting rid of.”
There was a snort on the other end of the phone. “You’re a cold-hearted bastard, Tyler.”
“That has nothing to do with it,” Tyler responded. “This is about not leaving strings. As soon as the campaign heats up, there will be a thousand reporters all intent on finding anything to bring you down. My job is to make sure there is nothing to find.”
“It’s a sure bet Vitus Hale will ask questions if his brother comes up dead.” Carl warned.
“So long as the witness is dead, there will be no one to tell him what he needs to know to link it all back to Marc Grog,” Tyler informed him. “So long as Marc learns from his mistake and stays the hell out of New Orleans.”
“Right,” Carl responded. “Let’s hope he plays it safe.”
“At least until after the election.” Tyler remarked. “After the votes are cast, it will be useful to have him disappear. For real this time.”
Carl was chuckling. “Cold hearted. You have no idea how hard it is to find a man with that quality these days, Martin.”
“Glad to hear you understand my worth.” Tyler killed the call, content with the outcome.
Now, he just needed to close the case.
Air-tight.
* * *
Saxon Hale wasn’t the sort of man you got the jump on twice with the same thing. Ginger smelled him before she woke up completely. Her brain was still caught in a haze of anxiety, and she was lifting her legs to kick him before sleep released her completely.
Only this time he was ready. He had an arm locked down in front of her that she banged with her knees. Pain went shooting through her shins, banishing slumber instantly. Her eyes opened wide, locking gazes with him, which sent another blow to her system, only this one was purely internal.
“Sorry,” he offered as he snapped her seatbelt closed. “We’re about to encounter some turbulence. Hold on.”
She’d actually forgotten to breathe while he was looming over her. Crap, the surface of her lips was tingling, too.
Are you bat-shit-crazy?
Maybe desperate was a better word. It certainly stung more. Which was exactly what she needed, a good slap back into reality. Saxon had taken a seat, only closer to her this time. She considered him suspiciously. There was something bugging her about the way he was making sure he was closer to her. The truth wasn’t pretty, but she realized he was there because he expected her to freak out.
“Turbulence? As in a storm?” she asked.
* * *
His lips curled just a bit and she realized her question was far too mundane for the world he operated in. Mother Nature’s fury didn’t make him hunker down, no, it was going to be caused by something he’d initiated.
“Are we swapping flight paths?” She was racking her brain, thinking out loud. She dealt with deadbeat parents, but her job also introduced her to a great many ways to track people that most folks didn’t really know about. Planes had to have flight plans now, since the attacks on New York City. Federal agencies could access those plans.
“The guys at the airport were Federal…”
Saxon jerked his head toward her, betraying the fact that she’d touched on the truth.
“Your bullet bounced off the SUV window…” She hadn’t thought it through, and it was replaying across her mind now with amazing clarity.
And Saxon was a street team.
“Oh … shit.” She muttered. “Just fuck, fuck, fuck. This in interdepartmental.”
“You don’t know—”
She locked gazes with him. “Think before you lie to me, Saxon Hale. No man crosses that line in my book.”
Fine, she was getting personal with him and didn’t give a rat’s ass what he thought about it. The look she aimed into his eyes made sure he knew it. For a moment, he hid behind a guarded expression, but it broke beneath the weight of her stare.
“I can’t confirm what you just said.”
Which meant she was spot on.
Fuck …
When it came to the federal government agencies, they had more resources and authority than most people knew. For a moment, she actually sort of wished she was one of those ignorant souls.
But she wasn’t. Which returned her to cussing, because it was really hard to distinguish between the good guys and the the bad guys, but both sides would easily cover up her death as a “regrettable” accident.
Fuck.
“Hold on. We’re coming up on the plane now.”
She looked out the window and discovered herself looking at a military fighter jet.
Fuck and double fuck. She wasn’t wrong.
She’d never wanted to be wrong so bad in her life. But no such luck.
The pilot had a helmet on and a black face mask that had a hose attached to it. The sunlight reflected off his mirrored eyeglasses. The jet was even with them as another plane came up beneath them, another white, private jet like the one she was in. The pilot of the jet flipped a thumbs up toward Bram Magnus before pulling up and away in a graceful arc that afforded Ginger a view of the underbelly of the fighter and its missiles.
A second later, the plane she was on was nose diving. It was an abrupt change in direction that made the seats rattle and her insides clench. She flattened her feet on the floor and gripped the arm rests. It was like that first drop on a rollercoaster, designed to titillate.
Only all it did was confirm just how right she was.
* * *
So she wasn’t as much of a mouse as everyone thought. Damned if she hadn’t made the hair stand up on the back of his neck with her warning.
Hell if that didn’t give him a buzz. It was a jolt he really could have done without. Life would be a lot simpler if he didn’t find anything about her that touched off more than a need to see his duty done.
He was past that now and knew it.
Kagan would have a nice team waiting for him to turn Ginger Boyce over to when they landed. Not because he’d requested it, but because Kagan wanted Tyler Martin and Saxon was a hunter.
He’d have to shuffle his memory of her away where it would live under the label of “the witness” and the type of girl his mother would be thrilled to have him bring home with a ring on her finger.
He was way past that, too. His mother was going to have to be content with the fact that his brother Vitus had managed, against the odds, to make his lapse in mission protocol into a relationship that was going to last. It was too rare a circumstance for Saxon to hold out any hope for a second occurrence.
Ginger’s survival lay in complete obscurity.
It didn’t matter if he found her warnings intoxicating because there wouldn’t be any opportunities to investigate what other sounds he might be able to elicit from her that would please him.
No lies? He really wished he didn’t feel the nip of an impulse to test her by telling her exactly what he’d like to do with her.
And he hated the fact that he never would get the opportunity to let her tell him what she liked from men.
He had the feeling she could handle the sort of truth he lived by.
* * *
Tyler Martin was waiting. It was something that went along with his occupation, but he wasn’t comfort
able with it. His team was poised around him, waiting for a signal. He looked at the scene on his laptop, watching the in-flight information coming in from the flight transponder on the aircraft Saxon had lifted off in. It was going down in Dallas now. The team he’d selected was on the ground, their body cameras giving him a live feed.
His phone vibrated. He pulled it out of his suit jacket breast pocket and answered.
“You haven’t called,” Marc Grog hissed.
“I have nothing to report,” Tyler informed him. “I am working the case.”
“I don’t suffer fools,” Marc threatened.
“Neither does Carl Davis,” Tyler answered. “I suggest you put your energy into meeting his demands, before he pulls me off this case.”
“Every man has weaknesses,” Marc replied. “That’s one of my specialties, finding them.”
“So I hear.”
“The man has a brother,” Marc suggested.
“Who was a Seal and managed to grab a girl from under your peoples’ noses just a few months ago. We don’t need him knowing we’re hunting his brother. That will only bring another asset into play on their side, and if you think it’s just one man, you better check yourself. Seals run in packs for life. Saxon used to be my man. I know how to track him, know how he operates. Don’t make the mistake Jeb Ryland did and dick around with me by trying to tell me what to do. You have plenty of thugs. I’m not one. That’s why I work for Carl Davis.”
Marc grunted on the other end of the line. “You’ve got a solid spine, Martin. I like that in a man. Bring in that mouse and I foresee a bright future for you. Because you’re right, if a man wants to be the best, he has to work with the best. Call me when you have something.”
The line went dead. Tyler enjoyed the warm glow spreading through him. It was part satisfaction, part accomplishment. Two things no one got out of a man like Marc Grog without earning them. He didn’t let the knowledge of how many bodies were littered on the ground in his dealings as the Raven bother him. This wasn’t the Boy Scouts. He’d known what the stakes were from the moment he’d signed on with moving classified Intel. He’d had plenty of partners along the way, but the last one had blown up in his face because Jeb Ryland had insisted on taking out the Hale brothers.
