Mine to Save

by Diana Gardin

  “You mean that, don’t you?” she whispers.

  Something in my chest, something I shoved way down deep a long time ago, breaks free and crawls up into my throat. I swallow around the lump forming there.

  This woman.

  All I can do is nod, because words won’t come. Then I reach down and do something I thought I’d never do again. Something so simple that most people don’t think anything of it. But to me? It means something. And judging by the way Sayward’s fingers tremble in mine, it means something to her, too.

  I take her hand.

  Marcos answers his hotel room door after one knock. I nod to the NES team member, a guy named Thorn, stationed outside his door just before Sayward’s brother lets us inside.

  I let Sayward’s hand go as Marcos pulls her into a tight, stiff hug. I give the room a quick check, because even though there’s security stationed outside the door I won’t take any chances with Sayward’s life. The room is clear, and I turn back to where Marcos is now holding Sayward at arm’s length and staring into her face.

  Her gaze is downcast.

  “Are you okay?” He shakes her shoulders, not hard, but still my teeth clench together.

  “I’m fine. Are you okay? I was worried, Marcos. You were on that street this afternoon, too.”

  He sighs, dropping his arms from her shoulders and running one hand through his black hair. “I’m fine, hermanita. I don’t need a guard outside my door.”

  Sayward’s voice turns firm. “Bullshit, Marcos. You’ll have a guard until we know you’re safe. I have one.”

  She smiles over at me, and I want to pull her back into my arms. Instead, I turn to Marcos.

  “Did anything happen right before you left Colombia?”

  His eyes narrow. “Yeah, mi padre died.”

  The words carry plenty of bite, but I don’t back down. “Other than that. Anything out of the ordinary? Did you receive any threats from the cartel?”

  Marcos lets loose a deep, humorless chuckle before glancing at Sayward. “The other men already asked me this question.”

  Sayward looks from her brother to me. “Why are you asking him this?”

  “Because I want to know why the cartel is here spraying bullets around our town.”

  Marcos raises his voice. “You spoiled Americans don’t know shit, do you? What it’s like living in the shadow of the cartel every single day? Yeah, I received threats. Because they threaten every single person who lives in our city every single day. This is nothing new to us.”

  I flex my fingers as my jaw clenches tight. He knows nothing about me. I’m about as far from a spoiled American as you can get, but that’s not something he needs to hear right now. It won’t do any of us any good.

  I’m here for her. I’m here for her. I keep up the mantra in my head, reminding myself that this isn’t about Marcos. It definitely isn’t about me.

  Keeping my yes trained on him, my voice is cool. “You didn’t answer the question. Is there any specific threat you can think of that might explain how the hell the cartel was able to follow you right into your sister’s backyard?”

  Marcos’s nearly black eyes flash with rage, his nostrils flaring. Then his tone softens as he turns away from me and toward his sister. “I’m sorry, chica. If they followed me here…I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking. I only knew I needed to tell you about our father.”

  “Ever hear of a burner phone?” My words cut the air, bitter and harsh.

  Maybe I’m being an asshole, but I can’t care about that right now. He brought danger to her door, and that’s something I’m not willing to overlook.

  He tosses a glare over his shoulder. “The death of a family member is news delivered in person. What, no one you loved has ever died? Do you even have a family?”

  Has no one I loved ever died? Try getting word from Saudi Arabia that your father has gone down behind enemy lines when you’re only a kid. A kid who still needs his dad. Try serving with men you call your brothers, only to watch them die beside you.

  His words slam into me like a punch. I rear back, as the memories from receiving news about the death of my father and watching men fall to the ground around me in the desert bombard me. And then Mickey’s face joins in the fray, reminding me that even though he wasn’t actually my family, we shared a father-son type of bond, and now that’s gone, too.

  The shock of the words and the memories both sink deep, before I glance at Sayward. Her eyes are sympathetic, and I reject that shit immediately. Turning away from them both, I walk toward the wide window and draw back one corner of the curtain to survey the city below.

  Fuck this shit. It’s the last thing I need. This is why I don’t do this kind of attachment. It’s messy. It puts you in the line of fire, makes you a slave to your goddamn emotions.

  Behind me, Sayward’s voice is low, but she’s clearly pissed. “You didn’t have to do that, Marcos.”

  He blows out a frustrated breath. “He started it.”

  My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out and place it to my ear. “Blacke.”

  “We have company.”

  It’s the NES man, Thorn, stationed outside the door. “I’m calling Lawson Snyder now. He’s outside doing surveillance. We’re gonna need backup.”

  His voice is low, clipped, and I know we don’t have much time. My heart picks up an erratic rhythm in my chest. Sayward. Goddammit! “How many?”

  “Three of them just stepped off the elevator.”

  Three of them, three of us plus Marcos. I like those odds.

  But then Thorn mutters a curse on the other end of the line. “Fuck. Two more just entered from the stairwell.” His voice is strained.

  Fuck! I want to tell him to move, to get out of the line of fire, but his job is to defend that door with his life if that’s what it comes to. “I’ll call the front desk to send the cops.” Then I end the call.

  Making the call to the desk, I bark into the phone. “There are intruders breaking into my room, five-twenty-seven. Call the police.”

  Both Sayward and Marcos whirl around to face me.

  “What did you just say?” she asks, her voice sharp but her face draining of color.

  Moving fast, I grab Sayward and toss her toward the bathroom. “Get in there, Sayward. Lock the door behind you.”

  She hesitates. Her eyes search my face. I want to reassure her, but there’s no time.

  I raise my voice. “Now, Sayward! Get your ass in that bathroom and don’t come out until you hear my voice telling you to.”

  Her eyes widen in fear, and her hair whips out around her as she turns for the bathroom.

  Hell.

  Grabbing her wrist, I pull her back to me. Slamming my lips down to hers in a crushing kiss, I make it count because I know this could be the last time I kiss these lips.

  When I pull back she puts her fingers to her mouth. Then I shove her away again.

  “Go.”

  I send up a quick prayer that I can keep her safe.

  18

  Bennett

  Dropping down to crouch beside my bag, I glance up at Marcos. He’s standing there, staring at the door, legs tensed and fingers flexing.

  “You packing heat?” I ask him around the extra clip of bullets I’ve shoved into my mouth.

  He shakes his head. “Not here. I couldn’t carry a gun with me from Colombia.”

  I toss him my Glock, knowing I have an extra pistol fitted in my ankle holster. “You take this. My hands are gonna be busy for the next minute or so, anyway.”

  “Doing what?” His tone sounds like he’s close to losing his shit, but I don’t have time for that right now.

  I can’t babysit him and keep his sister alive. My voice goes sharp and there’s the edge of command in it I know makes people listen. “Eyes on the door, Marcos.”

  As he turns toward the door, I toss the clip between his feet and unzip the duffle bag I brought just in case. Rifling through the contents, random objects and sealed con
tainers of liquid no regular person would ever put together, my fingers close around a small lead pipe. The sound of a shout from the hallway, Thorn’s voice, doesn’t stop me or even make me pause in my intentions.

  My fingers are steady as I work, pulling match heads off the sticks and dumping them inside the pipe and capping one end. The fact that this is going down in a hotel full of people registers somewhere in the back of my mind, and I take that fact into account while I work. But Sayward’s face, scared and alone in the hotel bathroom, also flashes through my brain, and I force myself to take a deep breath before standing.

  Pulling my extra pistol with one hand and holding the now-sealed pipe with the other, I stand and face the hotel door. From just outside the room, the sound of gunshots rips the air.

  Let it be Thorn’s and Lawson’s guns. Let it be Thorn’s and Lawson’s guns.

  Knowing my colleagues are out there, possibly being shot to hell, dying, I have to act. Dipping my head toward Marcos, I indicate that he should step the fuck back. He complies, holding his weapon at the ready. His eyes are locked on the hotel room door, where a commotion is clearly going down in the hall.

  Moving fast toward the door, I crouch and place the pipe beside the thin crack letting in light from the hall. Then, striking a match, I place the tiny stick topped with flame inside the pipe. Then I retreat. The purpose of this bomb, by both size and type, is to create a distraction so that I can get Sayward out of this hotel room. My own guys are in that hallway, too, and I don’t intend for anyone to get hurt in the small explosion that’s about to take place.

  For me, this is tame. I’ve manufactured explosions ten times this size, and there’s almost always been a plan in place detailing exactly what will happen before and after the explosion. So even though a pipe bomb is like goddamn child’s play, the ill preparation sends a jolt of trepidation jamming into my gut.

  “Get down!” I toss the words at Marcos as we both hit the ground.

  My lips moving quietly, I utter a quick prayer just as the hotel room door explodes.

  BOOM.

  “Move to the outside of the bathroom door. Cover Sayward no matter what!” I toss the instruction back at Marcos as I storm the hallway.

  Out in the hall, it’s pretty evident that the explosion shocked the hell out of not only the three cartel assholes, but also Lawson and Thorn.

  “Move!” I shout as I land a roundhouse kick to one of the cartel members. My priority? Disarm him so that we can cart his ass back to NES. I want him interrogated before he’s arrested.

  I need to know what the cartel’s plans are for Sayward. And I need to know it before the next attack.

  The kick sends his weapon flying, and as he recovers, I hurtle toward him. Landing a jab with my left fist into his jaw, his head snaps back. He grunts as he retaliates, swinging way too wide to connect. I catch his arm, wrenching it behind his back until I hear a snap and kicking his legs out from underneath him. Shoving him toward Thorn, I jerk my head toward the stairwell at the end of the hall. Opposite direction of the lobby elevator and stairs.

  “Get him out of here. Back to NES.”

  With a nod of understanding, Thorn plants his fist into the side of the fading cartel member’s head and the dude’s legs give out totally. Thorn drags him down the hall.

  I turn just in time to catch another cartel member aiming his weapon. Ducking as he fires, I move in so fast he can’t keep up. Getting in front of him, under his weapon, I jab a knee into his balls, using every ounce of motherfucking strength I have. He goes down, and I plant one of my boots into the side of his face for good measure. When he’s sprawled out, I turn to Lawson. But he’s all good, taking his adversary down just like I did mine.

  Pivoting, I rush back into the hotel room. “Stand down,” I snap to Marcos.

  He reluctantly lowers my pistol.

  Heading straight for the bathroom, I turn the knob and find Sayward backed all the way up against the shower stall. She’s leaning against the glass doors, both hands tucked under her chin. Her eyes are wide, staring without blinking, and her bottom lip is clutched between her teeth so fucking hard I’m scared she might’ve drawn blood.

  “Hey,” I say low and gentle, closing the distance between us. “Baby, you’re safe. You’re okay.”

  She blinks, and I grab her shoulders. Watching as her eyes try to focus on me, I grasp her chin in between two fingers. “You hear me? We got them. No one’s gonna hurt you.”

  I stare into her eyes, willing her to believe me. To see me. Seeing her like this, this scared? This dazed and confused?

  It guts me.

  My hands travel down her delicate shoulders to her upper arms, where I hold on a little too tight. “Come on, beautiful. Take a breath for me.”

  She finally comes back to life, sucking in a deep breath as her clear hazel eyes focus on me. She blinks.

  “I…I heard gunshots,” she whispers. “And the explosion. I thought…I thought you and Marcos were…”

  Shaking my head firmly, I cup her face in my hands. “Not gonna happen, Sayward. I’m right here, and they couldn’t drag me away from you. I’m going to keep you safe. Got that?”

  She nods.

  “Good girl.”

  Jacob Owen steps up to the bathroom door. His voice booms around the small room. “Is she hurt?”

  Keeping my eyes trained on Sayward’s face, I shake my head. “No.”

  “Do you realize you just set off a bomb inside a hotel?” The irritation in Jacob’s tone is clear. I just made a big-ass mess for him to clean up.

  Turning to face him but keeping Sayward’s hand in mine, I look him straight in the eye. “It was the Colombian cartel. I used a bomb to distract them long enough for Lawson and Thorn to get the situation under control, or they would have been coming into this hotel room guns blazing. I didn’t want Sayward at risk. It’s my job to protect her, right?”

  Jacob’s jaw ticks as he evaluates me. “Go. Get her out of here, because the cops will be all over this room in about thirty seconds. I’ll handle the cleanup.”

  His eyes tell me we aren’t done discussing this, but I don’t have regrets. I did what I had to do, and Sayward is walking out of this place alive. To me, it’s a win.

  “Copy.” Grabbing Sayward by the hand, I tow her out of the hotel room, making sure to grab my duffle as we pass. I lead her down the hallway toward the back stairs and out of the building.

  She’s silent as we head for my truck and as I open her door and tuck her into the front seat. She doesn’t say a word as the engine turns over and we set out toward NES. Reaching for her hand, I lace my fingers through hers and count it as a win when she doesn’t pull back. Her hand is stiff in mine, though, and I bring her fingers to my mouth. Turning on to a quiet back road that’ll lead us to NES, I glance at Sayward.

  “Talk to me, beautiful.”

  Still staring out the truck window as the dark city rushes by, Sayward draws a breath. “Everyone around me dies because of the cartel. It’s been that way my whole life. I don’t want to drag you into this any further than I already have, Bennett.”

  Understanding mixes with sympathy in the pit of my stomach, swirling around with unease. Her voice is so sad it borders on desperate, and I can tell it’s taking everything she has to stay with me. Her mind wants to shut down, withdraw, protect her from the fear and the anxiety warring inside her.

  I know fear and anxiety well. I served in the army. I’m ex-Special Forces. I’ve entered war zones. I saw shit no living soul should ever have to see, made choices no human being should ever have to endure.

  And then I went to prison.

  Anxiety and fear? They’re where I lived for a long fucking time.

  I squeeze her hand as I glance at her. “I get that, baby. You’re scared. But everyone who’s working with you on this? They’re doing it because they want to. You don’t have to protect anyone. We can all protect ourselves, and you.”

  “But Bennett…don’t you rea
lize that I’d never be able to live with myself if anything happened to one of the NES team members? Or to either Jacob or Marcos? Or…to you?” Her voice catches on the last word, and my chest clenches tight, so tight it hurts.

  I open my mouth to console her, but she speaks again before I can. And the words that come out of her mouth are the last thing I expect to hear. They stop my heart.

  She turns those big eyes on me, wide with fear and wet with unshed tears. “I…I think I have to run.”

  19

  Sayward

  The truck swerves as Bennett yanks the wheel hard to the right, pulling us over to the side of the deserted road. He doesn’t glance at me as he jerks open his door and climbs down, slamming it behind him. He stalks around the hood before wrenching my door open. Grabbing hold of my legs, he turns me toward him just before cupping my face in his big hands.

  “Listen to me, beautiful,” he grits out through clenched teeth. His tone is full of fury, but his eyes show the depth of the emotion he’s feeling right now. They hold my stare captive. “You want to run? Go ahead. But know that you won’t be going alone. There’s no way in hell I’d let you go off by yourself right now. The second you landed in my bed, you belonged to me. This isn’t just about protection detail for me. Not anymore. I want more with you, and if you leave we can’t have that. I’m not letting you go anywhere without me. Got that?”

  Stunned, I’m silent as I stare at him. I don’t even have time to consider his words for more than a second before his lips are crashing down on mine.

  Bennett devours me with his kiss. His lips demand that I respond, even as I try to close myself off against it. There’s no point, because my body and maybe even my soul react to him instinctively no matter how hard I try to fight against it. I open my mouth to him on a gasp. He takes advantage, tightening his grip on my face as his tongue delves into my mouth, sweeping left to right.