Anthology - Kick Ass

by Maggie Shayne, MaryJanice Davidson, Angela Knight, Jacey Ford

  Emilio had expected his bigger, stronger, older brother to put up a fight. Apparently, however, might was no match for a bullet to the brain.

  Had Emilio not been so angry, he might have laughed at his observation. As it was, the spy's escape had put a damper on Emilio's sense of humor. He couldn't believe the man had thrown himself against the second-floor window, crashing through the glass and falling to the floor below. Emilio had raced to the broken window and looked down, expecting to see the man lying in a pool of blood. Instead, he saw nothing but shards of shattered glass littering the linoleum floor.

  Emilio clattered down the stairs as quickly as possible, leaving his brother lying gasping for his last breaths in Emilio's office. He would have paused to make certain Tomas was dead had he not been afraid that this would give the American time to get into position at the bottom of the stairs. With Emilio's only escape route blocked, he would be trapped and at the mercy of the spy.

  He had no intention of being at anyone's mercy ever again.

  With his gun trained on the darkness surrounding him, Emilio crouched down over the pile of shattered glass and looked for anything—a trail of blood, some torn clothing, anything that might help lead him to the American.

  When he saw a suspicious spot on the floor, he reached down and trailed his fingers through the wetness. Looking up, Emilio Santos smiled.

  The CIA agent was bleeding.

  And like any predator, Emilio knew that all he had to do to catch his wounded prey was to follow the scent of blood.

  Where the hell was he?

  Lauren pulled on the locked door of the Isla Suspiro Rum Company's headquarters for the tenth time in as many seconds and considered the damage to her pedicure if she were to attempt to kick in the door with nothing but her high-heeled sandals for protection.

  She knew that Jake planned to go back up to the rebel camp when he was finished meeting with Tomas Santos, but hadn't seen him leave the plant. The photo shoot had been set up within full view of the only road leading from the plant, and she'd been watching for Jake to reappear. It had been over an hour now and he had remained locked up inside with Tomas Santos the entire time.

  They couldn't have had that much to discuss, and Lauren was getting worried. The photo shoot had ended, and the crew was waiting for her in their air-conditioned van. They wanted to leave now, before the streets got too packed for them to drive. The revelers outside the gates of the compound had gotten louder and more raucous and, according to their driver, it was only going to get worse as the afternoon wore on.

  Lauren ignored the impatient beep of the van's horn as she pulled her cell phone from her purse. She was not leaving without Jake.

  She scrolled to her log of incoming messages and found Jake's number. She hit dial, pressed the phone to her ear, and waited for it to ring.

  "Lauren, come on. We're going to get stuck here all bloody night if we don't leave now," Brad shouted.

  She scowled and put her hand over the mouthpiece. "Go without me," she yelled back. The trip back to the resort would take over two hours with the streets clogged as they were with people. If she were forced to endure the pretentious photographer's company for that long, one of them would have to die. And it wasn't going to be her.

  The van took off without so much as a token protest from any of the crew.

  Assholes, Lauren thought, turning her attention back to her call.

  The phone rang once, then twice, and then, abruptly, the call was dropped. Lauren frowned and held the phone out to look at the display. She'd thought reception would be good here, but maybe she'd lost her signal. But no, there were five bars showing—the strongest signal she could get.

  Then what—

  Lauren heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot from inside the plant and gasped.

  Ohmigod. Knowing that he'd be searched before his meeting with the president, Jake hadn't brought his gun. That must mean that someone was shooting at him.

  But what was she supposed to do? The doors were locked, the only windows on the outside of the building were two stories up, and she didn't have any brilliant ideas. Briefly, she wished she hadn't thrown away her Secret Agent's Handbook, but she immediately dismissed the idea and scoffed at herself. What good would it have done anyway? The stupid thing was just a joke.

  Lauren pulled at the door again, feeling frustrated and helpless when it wouldn't budge. She slumped against the warm metal and closed her eyes. Jake was in danger, and there was nothing she could do.

  She jerked upright and nearly dropped her cell phone when it rang.

  "Jake, is that you?" she said.

  Her heart seemed to stop when Jake's voice came on the line. Thank God, he was okay.

  "I don't have time to explain anything right now. Can you call me back?"

  "Sure," Lauren answered, but the phone had already gone dead. She redialed the incoming number and waited for Jake to answer, but it just rang six times and then rolled into his voice mail.

  She didn't leave a message.

  Suddenly, the window above her exploded and Lauren covered her head as shards of glass rained down on her. She peeked through her fingers and saw a chair land a few feet away in the thick grass. When the last of the glass finished tinkling merrily against the concrete walkway, she looked up to find Jake dangling from the windowsill. As she watched, he loosened his hold and dropped into the shrubs surrounding the building. She rushed to his side and heard him groan as he tried to move.

  "Jake? What's going on?" she asked, reaching out to help him up.

  "No time," he gasped.

  That answer, of course, made absolutely no sense to Lauren. No time for what? Unfortunately, Jake couldn't clear up the mystery since he had rolled off the hedge, landed facedown in the grass, and promptly passed out.

  Then it was her turn to gasp when there was another gunshot and the ground at her feet erupted. Bits of dirt and grass leaped up like popcorn from a hot pan and struck her bare legs. Lauren looked up at the broken window to find Emilio Santos aiming a gun at her. She didn't wait for an explanation. Instead, she grabbed Jake under the armpits and tugged, her heels burying themselves in the soft dirt as she grunted with the effort to drag two hundred pounds of dead weight out of harm's way.

  She pulled with all her might, silently praising her personal trainer's efforts to whip her into shape as she managed to lurch around the corner of the building just as Emilio squeezed off another shot.

  Still holding Jake under the armpits, Lauren wildly looked around for a means of escape. They were at the back of the plant, near the loading dock. Several delivery trucks painted dark brown with the Isla Suspiro Rum Company name and logo on them were parked on the pavement. Damn, she wished Jake had had a chance to show her how to hot-wire a car.

  Lauren chewed on the inside of her cheek. Maybe she wouldn't need to hot-wire one of the delivery vehicles. Someone might have left the keys in the ignition, figuring the truck would be safe from thieves parked here in the gated compound.

  "Jake, come on. Wake up," she urged, glancing from his prone body to the nearest delivery truck twenty feet away. When he didn't even twitch, Lauren knew what she had to do. She hated to leave him unprotected, but she had no choice. She couldn't drag him that far fast enough to outrun Emilio, who she expected was on his way outside right now. She had to take the chance that one of the vehicles would be accessible. If she didn't, she and Jake would both die right here on the pavement.

  She rolled Jake over onto his back and then forced herself to leave him as she ran across the loading dock toward the line of vehicles. The trucks were more like oversized UPS vans than the semis used in the United States to transport goods. Lauren figured with Isla Suspiro's roads in such poor condition, many of them pockmarked with potholes large enough to hide several small children, semis couldn't be used until the roads were improved.

  Lauren clambered onto the running board of the first vehicle she came to and jerked on the door handle, but it was locke
d. Cursing, she jumped down and ran to the next van, her high heels sinking slightly into the hot pavement.

  When she tugged on the next door, it opened, and Lauren sent up a silent prayer that the keys would be in the ignition. She jumped into the driver's seat and felt around on the steering column for the keys, but the ignition was empty. Not willing to give up, she checked the top of the dashboard and then fumbled around in a pile of loose change, hoping the driver had left his keys there. Next, she slid her hand into a pocket on the side of the driver's door, gasping with relief when her fingers closed around a set of keys.

  "Yes," she shouted through gritted teeth as she pulled the keys out and hurriedly tried to fit one after the other into the ignition.

  The sound of a door opening behind her made her falter, and Lauren knew she only had seconds before Emilio spotted her. She pulled the last key from the ring and shoved it into the ignition. This one had to fit.

  The key slid into place, and Lauren cranked it toward the dashboard. The van's engine coughed to life as Emilio Santos appeared in Lauren's side view mirror.

  He took aim.

  She slammed the transmission into drive and floored the accelerator just as the passenger side door flew open.

  Jeez. What now? Did Emilio have backup?

  Lauren was just about to jerk the steering wheel to the right to try to dislodge the intruder when she realized that it was Jake who was trying to get inside the van. She kept her foot pressed to the gas pedal and ducked as Emilio's bullet shattered the window beside her and exited through the front windshield.

  "Drive," Jake shouted, throwing himself across the passenger seat.

  "What do you think I'm doing?" Lauren muttered as she struggled to keep the swaying van on the narrow road. Up ahead, the road branched off into three different directions. The left route would take them to the main gate and through the center of town, but the roads would be clogged with revelers, making them easy to spot. Not to mention that they'd have to get through the phalanx of armed guards, who were almost certain to have been warned to stop them.

  The middle road led down to the beach, but Lauren had no idea what they would do to escape once they got there. The rightmost road meandered through the compound and would put them out in a quieter part of town, but the road on that side of town wasn't much more than a rutted footpath through the dirt. With the heavy delivery van loaded down with boxes of rum, Lauren feared they might end up stuck up to their axles in mud.

  As they approached the crossroads, she eased up on the gas.

  "What do we do?" she asked frantically, turning to Jake.

  Beside her, Jake was pale and sweating, and Lauren noticed blood dripping down his arm. "Have you been shot?" she asked, her eyes wide with shock.

  "It's just a nick," Jake answered, sounding as though he were talking through clenched teeth. "Emilio was standing with his back to me and I was about to knock him out with a bottle of rum when my cell phone rang the first time you called. If I hadn't clipped him on the shoulder with the bottle when he turned around, I'd be dead now."

  Lauren winced. So that's why he'd hung up on her. Why the hell hadn't she thought that calling him might give away his position? God, she was so stupid. No wonder her handler thought the idea that she could be a real field agent was a joke.

  "I left my phone downstairs and had you call me back to make Emilio think I was still down there. That's how I managed to get upstairs and escape."

  Well, at least she she hadn't been totally useless, Lauren thought with no small measure of self-disgust.

  "Rafael Santos is staging his coup this afternoon," Jake said, interrupting Lauren's thoughts. "At least, that's what I gathered from a phone call I overheard between him and Emilio. Rafael called after Emilio shot Tomas and Emilio took the call while he was searching for me. Emilio didn't tell Rafael that there's no need for him to overthrow his brother. Tomas is already dead, and I think Emilio is setting a trap for his younger brother. I suspect he's the one who pitted his brothers against one another. He's wanted the power all along." Jake pressed his hand to the gunshot wound on his arm to stem the bleeding and bit back a shout of pain. Jesus, that hurt. He'd kill for a fucking aspirin right now.

  "We have to stop Rafael," Lauren whispered. If they didn't the island would be thrown into another cycle of revolution and civil war.

  Jake closed his eyes and tried to think, but he didn't see any way to stop events from unfolding exactly the way Emilio Santos had planned. They could try rallying Tomas's army, but why would they listen to a supermodel and a stranger from America over Emilio, who, as Tomas's right-hand man, was surely someone they trusted? By the time Rafael Santos launched his attack and Jake and Lauren were proven right, it would be too late.

  He shook his head and held his breath as another wave of pain washed over him. "Do you have any ideas?" he asked.

  Beside him, Lauren laughed bitterly. "Who, me? All I am is a pretty face. Haven't you realized that by now?"

  Jake grimaced as he twisted in his seat to face the woman next to him. "That's bullshit, Lauren. You kicked ass out there in the jungle yesterday. You escaped from the rebel camp, took out one of Rafael's men who would have shot me if I'd been down in that pit, marched for hours without complaint, and came up with the idea that got us out of there and saved our asses. You're a damn fine field agent, and I'm proud to be on this op with you."

  Lauren was already shaking her head. "That was all because of that stupid joke of a handbook. Martha McLaughlin's right. I thought she saw something more in me, but it was all just a lie to shut me up. The Agency doesn't believe in me."

  Jake glanced behind them to make sure Emilio hadn't had time to follow them yet. Then, even though he nearly passed out with the effort to move, he slid across the seat and put a hand under Lauren's chin to tilt her face up to his. Her blue eyes were troubled, and Jake wished he had the time to kiss her worry away, but now wasn't exactly the right moment to stop and declare his feelings for the brave woman he'd fallen in lust with when they'd met and then fallen in love with the day before. She was so much more than she even knew.

  "It doesn't matter what anyone else believes, Lauren. It's what you believe about yourself that makes a difference. When you believed you were capable of being a field agent, you were capable of it. The only difference between who you were yesterday and who you are today is what you think you can accomplish. Neither Martha McLaughlin's endorsement nor that handbook you thought contained all the answers were the source of your power. This is," he said, reaching up with his free hand to gently push her hair away from her temple and tap his fingers on the smooth skin of her forehead.

  Lauren pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and slowly began to nod. Then, in a gesture he was beginning to find charmingly familiar,, she straightened her shoulders, readying for battle.

  Jake bit back a smile. He didn't want her to think he was laughing at her, because he wasn't. Instead, he was falling more in love with her with each passing second.

  "I have an idea," she said. Then she reached up to squeeze his hand, pressed a kiss to his palm, and released him, saying, "Fasten your seat belt. It's gonna be a bumpy ride."

  * * *

  CH@%!*R 11

  As Lauren laid on the horn and stood on the accelerator, her heart was full of hope. First, she hoped this crazy plan of hers didn't get them both killed. She also hoped her hunch about Rafael Santos was right. Finally, she hoped that the Jake Haven she'd come to know on Isla Suspiro was planning to stick around for a while, because he was a man she could easily imagine herself falling in love with.

  He believed in her. And while she supposed it shouldn't matter, that she should feel confident enough in her own abilities to not need anyone else's opinion of her to fill her with courage, just knowing that he thought she was worthy made all the difference.

  She took a deep breath and fixed her gaze on the gates up ahead. A half dozen of Tomas Santos's troops were standing in front of the heavy wrought-iron
bars, waving at her to stop. In a few seconds, she knew they would stop waving and start pointing their machine guns at her, but she didn't falter.

  "Get down," she yelled at Jake as the guards raised their guns.

  "You, too," he yelled back.

  They both crouched down to shield themselves as best they could. Lauren kept her hands on the steering wheel, the delivery van pointed like a missile, straight ahead. She hated to think that the guards might not move out of the way, but she had no choice. Emilio Santos would never let her and Jake out of here alive.

  The first bullets broke the windshield and landed high in one of the cardboard boxes that were stacked against the thin bars separating the cargo area from the passenger area of the van. Lauren felt something wet and sticky dripping onto her head and assumed it was rum, but she didn't dare take her hand from the steering wheel to see if her guess was correct. As long as it wasn't blood…

  "Aim for the center of the gates. That's where they'll be the weakest," Jake said.

  Lauren raised her head so that she could see over the dash, but then ducked when another round of bullets peppered the van. The temperature gauge flew into the red zone. Damn, they must have punctured the radiator.

  "Come on, this has to work," Lauren muttered to herself as she closed her eyes, her hands holding tightly to the steering wheel as they crashed into the gates. There was an awful, high-pitched screeching as metal ground against metal. Lauren smelled radiator fluid mixed with the sickly sweetness of rum.

  She jerked the transmission into reverse, and the tires squealed on the pavement as she backed up to make another run at the gates. Startled, she screamed when one of the guards jumped onto the running board next to her, but didn't give him the chance to bash in the window that was already damaged from Emilio's earlier shot. Instead, she threw the van into drive and peeled out. The guard quickly jumped off, since remaining where he was when they rammed into the wrought-iron gates would have been tantamount to committing suicide.