Latvis Security Services

by Lexie Ray

  “Before we decide that—Jared, have you been living here?”

  “Mads, let it go.” She over-pronounced every word.

  “I do not believe that you understand just how difficult this is for you.”

  “They had you hogtied in the basement.”

  “Wine cellar,” he corrected.

  “Mads, if you promise to shut up about the house, right now, I will so make it worth your while.”

  He took a deep breath, trying to sort through the dozens of reasons just why this was so annoying, when she cut him off.

  “I will let you make me a meal with your special sauce.”

  Shocked, Mads cracked his fist down across Jared’s head, knocking the man out before he straightened again.

  “Truly?”

  She cocked an eyebrow in a teasing arch and his mind instantly flooded with possibilities. A smile crept onto his face, answered by a more hesitant and rueful one of her own.

  “One word, and this deal is off.”

  Mads nodded. “As you wish. Help me throw him the basement.”

  Willow tucked the gun into the back of her waistband and grabbed Jared’s arms.

  “Wine cellar,” she grumbled.

  ***

  As it turned out, there was a stream of people who had a grudge against Mads. However, it seemed a lot harder to find any of them who were capable of posing a legitimate threat. It wasn’t exactly a shock for Willow. Most people who took to stalking and harassing those weaker than themselves weren’t exactly brave or imposing.

  Together, they moved through the house, managing to take a few more of the men that were coming for Mads. Each time, the men and women they faced seemed to hone in on Willow, supposedly thinking that she was the easier target to take out. Willow understood this line of thinking. After all, Mads did look something out of Viking lore, a towering wall of golden fury, a berserker on the prowl. But understanding the rationale didn’t stop her from feeling a little insulted each time it occurred.

  There seemed to be an endless supply of rooms and hallways, the structure laid out less like a home and more like a carnival funhouse. There were corridors that led to nowhere and doors that only opened to reveal thick brick walls. But the final straw for Willow came after they were racing away from another attacker and Mads yanked her into another room.

  Willow stumbled in to find the room lights flickering on around her. Apparently, the music was also set to play with motion sensors because a tune befitting a carrousel began to play in staggered, lurching notes.

  “Who the hell built this house?” she hissed under her breath.

  Heaving his breaths, Mads pushed his hair off of his forehead. “I do not know.” As they pressed their backs against the solid wall on either side of the door, he glanced at her. “You do not like the house?”

  “It’s like a murder house, Mads. I have deep concerns about the mental health of whoever designed this structure.”

  “But this room is rather whimsical.”

  “The only possible purpose for this room is to lure children in so you can eat their souls.”

  Mads opened his mouth to respond but the door cracked upon. Their pursuer inched into the room. An eye peeked through the space, widening when it noticed Willow. The man surged forward, the glint of his gun filling the space. Willow ducked as Mads slammed his weight against the door. The barrel of the man’s gun was wedged between the door and its frame as Mads pressed his own body against the wood and fired.

  The mirrors rattled with the sound, the loud crack covering the man’s scream. They didn’t release the door until the gun became slack in the door jamb and the man thumped heavily onto to floor. When they opened it, Willow caught the abandoned weapon as Mads pulled the injured man into the room.

  “I think that this room is delightful,” Mads said over the man’s staggered groan and pained gasps.

  While they hadn’t discussed it, they had both decided to try and keep from actually killing anyone. She suspected that Mads rather liked the idea that they would live to grow their hatred of him. Willow couldn’t argue with that. But it was actually a pretty fun idea and one that she was all for. Besides, she wasn’t exactly on board with killing quite yet. Although, hurting the people trying to murder them was rather therapeutic.

  “Really? I mean, I get that you might have thought that when you were younger and first bought this place. It’s all kinds of novelty. But take another look around. We’ve got time.”

  The man below them groaned as he struggled to sit up. One swift blow to the gun wound in his shoulder was all Willow needed to do to get him to lie back down again. During that time, Mads glanced around, his brow furrowing slightly.

  “I may have miscalculated,” he admitted.

  “Who is this guy, anyway?”

  He crouched down and grabbed the man’s jaw, pulling him around to face them.

  “I actually do not know.”

  “What?” the man growled through clenched teeth, anger flaring within his eyes. “You ruined my life.”

  “Well, you kind of ruined it yourself, right?” Willow cut in. “I mean, you did start it.”

  “I was a petty criminal,” the man spat at her. “Art fraud. I didn’t belong in prison.”

  “Antonino Pulsar,” Mads cut in with a smile.

  “You’re really happy you remembered that,” Willow noted.

  “It would have bothered me,” he said, shoving Antonino back down as he tried to reach for Mads’ gun.

  “Why were you hired for this guy? Fraud’s not really your pace.”

  “Besides swindling people who were not above murder for the sake of their pride, he also ensured that the trail of evidence led back to his business partner. That gentleman hired me.”

  “You’re a jerk,” Willow said before she slammed the butt of the rifle across his jaw. The man slumped against the floor, and Willow glanced up to Mads. “I feel like I should have a bit of guilt over knocking them out like this. It can’t be good for them.”

  “You shot the last person we were up against.”

  “She tried to kill me. I take that personally.”

  “As did this gentleman.”

  Willow released a long sigh and checked the clip to see how many bullets they had just secured for themselves.

  “This has been a weird week for me. Could you just let me get through this any way I can?”

  “I support you completely,” Mads smiled. He lifted his own gun and rattled it lightly in the air. “Are you ready for another round?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mads released a long groan and lowered himself back down to hide under the window ledge. They had finally reached the front entrance, the brilliant white door looking like a beacon, a hope that this would all be over shortly enough. But then he had seen what was lying beyond the house and all of his hopes turned sour in the pit of his stomach.

  Willow crouched beside him, her eyes flickering between him and the entry points she was covering. He shook his head.

  “They have set up a chokehold,” he whispered. “There is no way to get to a vehicle without taking heavy fire.”

  She grumbled something under her breath and leaned a little harder against the wall. They had already checked the back and sides. While the forest did surround them, there was far too much open space to cover the reach any of it. When Mads had first bought the place, the yard had seemed like a pleasant addition. This day was really making him question his taste. Willow seemed to be thinking along the same lines as he was, since she was currently giving him a sharp look from the corner of her eyes.

  “When we get a home, I’m choosing it.”

  A smile instantly crossed his face and he made no attempt to keep his first thought from bubbling out of his mouth with all the adoration and hope that he felt.

  “I could quite happily live out the rest of my days in a cardboard box if you were by my side.”

  A blush crossed her cheeks as she ducked her head. “Let�
�s still aim for a house, though.”

  “Whatever you wish.”

  She lifted her hand and curled the tips of her fingers around the lines his wide smile created in his face.

  “I like it when you smile,” she said softly, as if afraid to speak too loud and scare him away. “You should do it more often.”

  He cupped her hand with his own. “I believe there will be more far more reasons for me to do so in the future.”

  “Am I going to have to get people to attempt to kill you every time I want you to talk sweetly to me?” She adjusted her grip on her firearm and smirked. “Because I can do that.”

  “I am starting to think that you have a far more aggressive streak than I first assumed.”

  Side by side, they crept back up to peek through the window again. They both scanned the area, looking over their options. Dimitri had managed to wrangle more people than either one of them had anticipated. The problem with his plan had, so far, been the complete lack of focus. It was hard to find people with enough of a homicidal rage to be willing to actually follow through with it while still maintaining enough control to hold them off if so desired.

  That, combined with the fact that Dimitri had made no attempt to get people that were willing to work together, had helped them to survive for so long. But if these people were all lurking in wait together, they might have actually learned that there is safety in numbers.

  Mads counted off half a dozen people, all of them using different vehicles for protection. They all seemed well prepared and settled in for a long wait.

  “We can’t go out there like this,” Willow said.

  “Perhaps we will be able to find a vantage point on the second floor. Undoubtedly, a few well-placed sniper shots would disperse their ranks somewhat.”

  “I was more talking about how they’re dressed,” Willow said. “They’re all ready for the cold. You don’t even have a shirt.”

  “I am sure that the cars will have heating systems,” he said with a hint of amusement.

  “Shivering is an involuntary reflex,” she said. “Now is not the time for your hand to start shaking and ruin your aim.”

  “And I suppose any assurance I offer will not be sufficient?”

  “Not unless you also confess that you’re actually Superman with a blond dye job.”

  “Alas, I am merely human.”

  “Well, then, not going out until we find you some clothes.”

  Mads glanced over the crowd once more. “I do not see anyone my size.”

  “Neither do I,” he turned to her. “Sniper?”

  “Sniper.”

  They turned to head up the stairs but didn’t get a few feet before the door burst in and they were forced to scattering into separate rooms, fleeing from the hail of bullets and grateful that no one seemed to have practiced their aim.

  ***

  Willow gasped as she huddled behind the sofa, wishing, not for the first time, that Mads’ furniture preferences ran a little larger. Antiques were not actually great at deflecting bullets. The rows of windows shattered into a thousand pieces, the shards flying over the floor, sparking like diamonds even as they nicked at her exposed skin. There wasn’t a break. Not even a few seconds to allow her to catch her breath or to seek out a better hiding place. Once again though, their attackers’ inability to work together was her saving grace.

  The constant stream of fire that rattled in from the windows kept those at the threshold from entering. The second it stopped, they could easily come in, round the sofa, and take Willow out with little she could do to stop them. Plastered against the ground, she shielded herself as best she could as she searched for something that could help her. Something, anything, that could give her the upper hand, but the room was decorated with only a few meager items of furniture.

  A new sound wove through the constant crackle of firepower and it took her a moment to place it. A truck. The engine roared in a constant, steady rumble, and the bullets whizzing over Willow’s head became fewer. Something was drawing their attention. It took only a few sharp cracks of a high-powered rifle for Willow’s brain to supply an answer. The boys had finally arrived.

  Taking advantage of the confusion, Willow peeked over the edge of the sofa and fired off a quick shot. It hit one of her attackers in the shoulder, dropping him as she ducked back down to miss the onslaught of revenge. Another crack. Another and another, and the noise began to fade. Just a little, but enough for her to understand that one side was actually winning. She took another shot but couldn’t keep up long enough to see if it had been of any use to her.

  A few more screams and the world grew quiet enough that she could hear the screams of the men outside. She knelt and took one more peek. The last man standing had moved to the window, confused by the warzone that had sprung to life just beyond the front door. She took the shot, hitting the man in the shoulder and, while remaining in a stooped crouch, raced across the room. Her palms began to sweat and she kept the gun cupped tightly, her finger posed and ready to make the final shot if any of the people littering the threshold reached for their guns.

  Shrapnel cut into her bare feet. An arctic chill swept in through the damaged wall. But she ignored all of the sensations as she raced to the threshold. She had just leaped over one of the fallen bodies when someone came hurtling through the doorway on the opposite end of the foyer. Willow raised the gun but luckily noticed that the man wasn’t attacking, but instead falling. He slumped against the tiled floor, leaving her staring at Mads, her gun now trained against her own chest.

  He lifted his hands, the motion looking like a surrender, but his smile making the movement look more playful. Almost teasing. Now she was really curious that this might be some kind of suppressed kink. But, as she took in his tousled hair, the fire in his eyes, the way the scrapes and bruises gave his perfect refinement a warrior’s edge, she was worried that it might be something she could get behind.

  “Sounds like our ride has arrived,” he said.

  “Do you think that jeep tore up the front yard?” she teased.

  “You are not going to catch me out,” Mads countered.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “And I have already selected the meals I am going to prepare for you.” A wide smile crossed his face, heated with a lust he didn’t begin to try and hide.

  The front door crashed open and Mads’ team flooded in, each dressed in full body armor with high-powered rifles at the ready. Both she and Mads held solid, hands held high, moving only when and how they were ordered to as the boys flooded the room. Dressed as they were, the only way to tell the difference between them was by their heights. She supposed that it was Jamie and Jai that rushed to the back of the house. Daren swept the side rooms and Dwayne kept the door. It was only after each one had shouted out their own ‘clear’ that Dwayne ripped off his mask and, with one beefy hand on Mads’ bicep, yanked him to his feet.

  “What the hell is wrong with you? I promise you, if you ever do anything like this again, I am going to beat the ever living daylights out of you. And don’t think that I can’t do it. They will all help me.”

  The split second after the words were bellowed, Dwayne wrapped him into a tight, crushing, one-armed hug. It lasted for a split second before he shoved Mads back and smacked him upside his head.

  Daren chose to offer his blow before the hug. And ended it with a snarl that threatened a great deal of bodily harm. Jamie and Jai didn’t wait for separate turns and instead grabbed Mads in unison. Jamie, however, was the only one that decided a slap just didn’t cover it, and instead cracked his fist against Mads’ nose.

  “How’s Gwen?” Mads asked.

  “She’s in the car, making sure we still have an exit from this makeshift Manson Family home.”

  “Actually, it’s his home,” Willow offered.

  “It is going on the market.”

  Mads grimaced a smile as he pinched the bridge of his nose to stem the blood oozing fro
m it.

  “Well, that’s fantastic,” Jamie said. “Can I hit you again?”

  “You already had your turn,” Dwayne whined.

  “So did you,” Daren pointed out.

  “I only smacked him. I didn’t know that hitting was an option. I want to hit him too.”

  “I could go for that,” Jai said, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. “Oh, and Natalie would want me to hit him on her behalf. So I get two shots.”

  “I am beginning to believe this is less of a reprimand for my behavior and more about punishing me for past grievances,” Mads said.

  “I want to hit him too,” Willow said with a smile.

  “There will be plenty of time for everyone to hit him later,” Daren said calmly, the words turning crisp as he maintained his military tone. “Right now, we need to get out of here. And perhaps out of the country.”

  “I need to find Dimitri first,” Mads said.

  His eyes widened with surprise as Daren pulled his side arm from its holster and aimed it at Mads’ right knee.

  “You can walk out of here or I can drag you out of here but, by God, Mads, you are coming with us now.”

  Still in shock, Mads’ glanced from Daren to the others. Each one met his gaze with the same unflinching resolve, their own weapons still at the ready.

  “It seems like I do not have much of a choice,” he said.

  “Thank you,” Willow gasped as she pushed through them and grabbed his hand. “I am so ready to go home.”

  Mads didn’t hesitate to entwine his fingers with hers. A strange, almost surreal smile spread across his face as he met her gaze for a long moment. With a soft breath, he glanced around the group, his eyes softening.

  “Me too,” he whispered, his fingers squeezing a little tighter. “Take me home.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Once again, it seemed that no one else understood the concept of jetlag. As soon as they arrived home, the day was taken over by an impromptu party. At first, Willow had thought that they were joking when they said that they wanted to take a shot at Mads. It wasn’t a joke. And, once they were settled back in the Latvis Offices, they just weren’t able to wait anymore.