On the hunt.
Most of the time, he felt like this—feral, as if he’d been living among wolves for too long and wasn’t ready to come back in from the wild. Even when he went to Mace’s house in the Catskills to meet up with the rest of his Delta team, he still felt the pull to get back out there, to keep searching … fighting …
For what, sometimes even he wasn’t sure, but that didn’t make the burning need go away.
“Just stop, Teddie—we can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he called quietly, knew she’d heard him because she tripped a little and then she ran faster.
Okay, hard way it was. He took a few more strides and grabbed for her and she stumbled. He pulled her back to her feet and she rewarded him by lashing out, arms and legs flailing, but he quickly brought her under control. As her body heaved against his, she brought her face close to his neck, her warm breath fanned his skin and if he were alone, he might think about winding his hand in her hair and kissing her, deep and hard enough to satisfy the urges that had him all riled up.
“Let’s roll,” Reid said from the safety of the Jeep, ruining that little fantasy.
“Where … are … we going?” she managed.
“You’re on a need-to-know basis.”
She muttered something, a curse, maybe, but he was too busy getting her ass into the back of the Jeep to worry about it. “Go,” he told Reid when they were secured, and the Jeep moved slowly down the road, lights off, making as little noise as possible.
After a few long minutes, Kell said, “We’re being stalked.”
“I know,” Reid said. No bullets had flown and Kell didn’t bother with the NVs again. “No tracking devices on her, are there?”
He hadn’t exactly stripped her down. “Did they touch you? Did they go through your things?” he asked her.
For once, Teddie was forthcoming. “No. I was in the motel for a few hours, and then I went to a restaurant across the street.”
And they’d been lying in wait there for her, had no doubt watched her go inside before making their move.
Yeah, he had a lot more questions for Teddie, and this time, he would make sure she answered them, whether she wanted to or not.
CHAPTER
3
Even getting thrown over the hood of a parked car couldn’t ruin Grier’s night, because that was so much better than just sitting around waiting. Her breath came out in a hard oof when she hit the old Mazda, the heels of her boots denting the rusted-out grill as she kicked off and went after her jump at a dead run.
The bounty hunter who’d been after the fugitive for the past month was also running with her now, having recovered from being smashed in the jaw with the butt of an illegal hand gun.
He could have the bond—Grier just wanted her hands on the asshole first. As her feet flew over the dusty pavement, her hands fisted and she let the anger surge through her body as she gained on the big man running from her like a big ole baby.
She weaved through the people on the street like they were pylons—she was seasoned, trained and always ready for this kind of fight.
Just a few more feet and she’d have him. Head down, arms swinging, and she reached out for the back of the man’s shirt at the same time the bounty hunter named Wes did. And although Grier really didn’t like to share, together they managed to yank the man to the ground, ending the chase.
“You gonna let me take him in?” Wes asked.
“I won’t steal your glory, but you owe me one.” Grier knew that keeping on the good side of the bounty hunters in the area could only help the marshals. It wasn’t a sentiment always agreed on in her office, but Grier was in charge and she ran things the way she felt they worked best.
It had been a fight to get to her position, and she planned on keeping it as long as she could. So far, it had been a hell of a ride.
Grier Catherine-Grace Vanderhall came from old money in Washington, DC, and wasn’t expected to become a U.S. Marshal. No, she’d been a deb and had been as well versed in the art of politics as etiquette … and had barely been talked out of enlisting in the Navy when she was eighteen. She went the college route and realized that the life she’d been expected to live was looking wholly unsatisfactory.
She liked to run, to hunt … she liked the chase, as many an ex-boyfriend had complained with traces of both bitterness and envy. And all of that had translated into becoming a U.S. Marshal, aided by the fortuitousness of meeting a retired marshal who regaled her with stories that retained just enough truth and a lot of myth to make her believe the job was tailor-made for her.
Seven years later, she was firmly enmeshed in Texas, with regular trips across the Mexican border. She worked with other law enforcement, bounty hunters, all to bring men and women to justice.
She had a firm sense of justice. Right was right and wrong was wrong in the world she functioned in and days off were meant for having as good a time as possible without breaking the law.
Discovering she’d been adopted hadn’t been a surprise—dark to her family’s light, she’d always felt different, although loved and accepted.
She was well adjusted. Smart.
She would be single forever.
She chewed on that along with a sip of the caramel-flavored coffee she’d gotten mere moments before the call from Wes came in. Now that he had taken the fugitive into custody and her adrenaline rush from the chase was fueled with the semi-warm coffee, she knew sleep was not on her agenda tonight. And even though it was close to midnight, she headed to the office to finish her paperwork.
And she figured it would be all quiet for now.
But the second she stepped out of the truck, something in the way the wind skittered across the short grass, kicking up dust, made her uneasy. The fact that Bobby’s truck was parked across the lot added to that.
“Got a job,” Bobby called to her two minutes later as she walked through the door.
“When were you going to tell me about it?” She tried to look annoyed and failed.
“Figured you’d head in after your chase with Wes.”
Yes, news did travel fast around here. She planted herself in her chair, finished off the coffee and took the folder Bobby handed her. She flipped through, found herself looking at a picture of a gorgeous woman.
“She’s one of Al’s charges. He’s actively searching but he needs our help—bad.” Al was a handler—technically, he worked under Grier and dealt with the witnesses who needed protection, while Grier’s focus, for the most part, was on capturing the fugitives. “What did she do?”
“Gave Al the slip and killed a man in front of a restaurant full of witnesses.”
The woman was everything Grier wasn’t—tall, blond, but that didn’t bother her as much as the total guilessness of the woman’s face. “She was set up.”
Bobby snorted and she ignored him. She always ignored skepticism in favor of her gut.
Today would be no exception.
On the outskirts of Ciudad Juarez, Reid found them a half-constructed high-rise to shore up in. Since it was Saturday, they wouldn’t have to worry about construction crews coming in the morning. By tomorrow night, they would be long gone, although to where, Kell had no clue.
The upper floor was perfect—the lights from the other buildings shone in, giving them enough light to function but not enough to give away their position.
It was chilly, but both men had blankets in their bags, along with ammo and comms, and while Reid went out to ditch the Jeep and get them a new car, Kell set Teddie up on the floor on a blanket.
“I know it’s not comfortable.”
“Is it safe?”
“For now.” He stood, propped against the window jam so he could look outside. “Your shoulder okay?”
“The bandage held.” She paused. “It’s throbbing a little.”
He nodded, went for the first-aid kit. “Turn around so I can give you this shot,” he told her, motioned to her ass, and she reluctantly pulled down her pants
, just low enough for him to get to the muscle. When that was done, he shook out some Motrin and handed them to her with water. “This should help. You need to get some sleep. In case we have to run again. You know, together, not you escaping and running alone, which might’ve been the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”
“Better than trusting you.”
“All I did was save your life. In turn, you tried to fucking kill me. I think you owe me your last name, at least.”
“Why? So you can check on my story?”
“I don’t need your last name for that, but it would be nice if you gave a little bit more.”
She obviously didn’t think so. She curled up in his blanket and watched him carefully. “So you were in the Army.”
“Yes.”
“But not anymore.”
“No.” He paused. “I’m sorry about your family. About everything that’s happened to you. You’re not a victim—don’t want to be treated like one. I get all of that. You’re right not to trust anyone, but at the same time, you have to trust us. We have no stake in this. We don’t work for the government. And we’re not being paid to take care of you.”
“You’re just helping me out of the goodness of your heart, right?”
“One of the perks of the job—I get to help whoever I want.” Kell shifted, reached into his pocket and took out the picture at the marketplace. “Tell me about the day you took this.”
She stared at it, didn’t bother to ask why they’d been through her things. “It was the day before Thanksgiving, last year. I’d flown into Khartoum the night before to spend time with my father and his new wife and the girls.”
“You got along with them.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t know them very well. My father met my stepmother while I was away in the States. After college, I went right to work, so I didn’t spend a lot of time with them. I was staying through that Saturday, then flying out to India. I went to the market for the cook—I was going to help prepare some of my mom’s old favorite Thanksgiving dishes, the way she and I always did before she died.”
She looked so fucking sad and he wanted to hug her. Except she’d probably stab him and run or something, so he stayed put and listened.
“I’d been taking pictures in the market that day—I saw those men … I knew what they were. Or I suspected.”
“What exactly did you suspect?”
“I thought they were special ops or mercenaries,” she said. “You look surprised. But I’d been living with a diplomat in dangerous places since I was born. I was taught to recognize those types of men … and to stay far away from them.”
She eyed him warily and she damned well should’ve taken that advice to heart. “So you took pictures of them.”
“It’s not like I asked them to pose. I was just taking photos of the open market. They thought they were blending in.” She gave a small smile and then it faded. “Later, after they came into the house and I saw them, I realized they’d been following me at the market, that it wasn’t a coincidence. I should’ve said something.”
“Do the marshals have the pictures?”
“Yes.”
“All of them?”
“Yes—I only kept the one. It’s a copy … so I never forget.”
He gave her a questioning look.
“So I never forget the men I want to kill.” She paused. “I wasn’t hunting them or anything. But I knew they’d come after me eventually, and I knew I had to be ready.”
That, he understood completely. “Let me call your handler.”
“I can’t go back to that life—I won’t. But I don’t know who to trust.”
“If you don’t trust us, you’re not getting out of this alive,” Kell told her bluntly, and she looked at him with big, dark eyes, nibbled a full bottom lip for just a second.
“Okay,” she said finally.
“You’ll trust us?”
“I’ll pretend. I’ve gotten really good at that,” she said, and he wondered how someone with eyes that soft could hold that much steel.
Teddie had been dreaming about her mother. They were in the kitchen, and Teddie was peeling potatoes, a job she hated. And they were laughing, the radio behind them playing her mother’s favorite songs from when she and Teddie’s dad were first dating.
“Teddie, watch your back,” her mom was saying, and it was such an odd thing for her to say that Teddie laughed … and when she turned around her mother was gone. She was calling for her, but she was all alone and she felt the sticky heat making her knees buckle.
“Teddie, hey, come on.”
It was Kell, standing over her. She realized that she was sweating, despite the cooler air wafting through the unfinished floor of the building, and she threw the blanket off her. “What’s wrong?”
He had both bags wound around his body, a picture perfectly framed of a warrior primed for battle. A warrior on her side and she wondered if she’d been crying out in her sleep, because of the way he was looking at her, his eyes lighting his face … seeing right through her.
“We need to go,” he said gruffly.
She got to her feet, searching for her sneakers in the dim light. “Where’s Reid?”
“He never came back.”
“How long’s he been gone?”
“Two hours. He’s not answering his phone. Something’s wrong.” Kell wound up the blanket and stuffed it into his bag as he spoke. “Look, I’ve got to find him. And I can’t leave you here—”
“I won’t let you turn me in to the marshals. Either take me with you or let me go.”
“You’re not my prisoner.”
She started at that—not because she thought she was, but because he didn’t seem to have a problem letting her go on her own. For all her big talk, she’d realized sometime over the past hours that she needed Kell and Reid if she had any chance of surviving. “I’ll go with you.”
“Suit yourself.” He led her to the window. “You’re not going to like our exit, but it’ll be effective. And you’ll be alive.”
“Is going out the window really necessary?”
He pointed to the far window and she left him to go look and she saw a truck that looked suspiciously like the one that had been following her earlier. She wasn’t planning on getting close enough to be sure.
She was back by his side in seconds.
“It might not be the same men,” he said.
“If it is, how would they keep finding us?”
“I was going to ask you the same question.”
“You think I’m leading them to me?”
“I don’t know—are you? Because if you’re screwing with me, you’re playing a more dangerous game than you know.” He had her by the shoulders, shook her a little, and he looked fierce, like an untamed predator.
And that’s exactly what he was. Danger radiated off him in waves and she should be running in any direction but his.
Instead, she asked, “What do you want me to do to prove it?”
“Strip.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No. I need to see if you’ve got a tracking device planted in your clothing.”
“And that’s the only way I’ll convince you?”
“Yes. Or else I’m leaving you here.”
“You bastard.”
“I’ve been called a lot worse.”
Furiously, she stripped the tank off, exposing her tiny, lacy bra, a leftover from her former life when fun lingerie was a luxury she’d indulged in just because she could. Her underwear matched and as she stood there, his eyes took her in, head to toe. “I need it all off. I have to inspect it.”
“You can do it while it’s on me,” she said, and then realized her mistake, but it was too late. She would’ve been less exposed standing naked in front of him than she would be as if he actually touched her.
“Suit yourself.” He moved close, ran a hand along the bottom of her bra, starting at the back and moving toward the front, feeling the underwir
e, his warm fingertips brushing the undersides of her breasts.
Her nipples puckered. “Is there anything there?” she asked, and he looked at her with a gleam in his eye.
“There’s something … but not what I’m looking for.”
She went to push him away but he looked down and she relented. Because there wasn’t much time. Because she wanted to prove to him that he could trust her, and she wondered when and how those roles had gotten reversed.
His hand went around her waistband and she tried not to shiver, but failed. He was so damned close and her body was responding in a way it hadn’t in forever. For the past year, she’d felt alone; sex had been the last thing on her mind.
Now it was in the forefront, despite the danger.
His hand dipped between her legs and she bit her bottom lip and tried to look anywhere but at him. He, in turn, was looking directly at her.
“Find what you were looking for?” It was all she could think of to say, to stop herself from asking him not to stop.
His voice was rough when he spoke. “No. I just wanted to keep touching you.”
Before she could respond, his phone was ringing and he moved away from her, leaving her to dress while he spoke.
“Where the hell have you been? Okay, yeah, we’ll meet you.” He hung up. “Reid’s got new wheels for us. Let’s roll.”
She wasn’t sure who she hated more at this moment—herself or Kell. But there wasn’t time to dwell because the window was open and he was tying a rope around himself and hooking it to a girder while she finished putting her clothes back on, and when he motioned for her to come to him, she did.
There was no other way for her to do this but wrap her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his waist, and bury her face against his neck as he dropped them down from the roof, the rope tied pulley-style, the metal gutter creaking as it struggled to hold both their weight.
When they got to the bottom, he let her go and she took a stumbled step back. And then she came forward and punched him, a left hook that caught his lip. He wiped the blood away with the back of his hand, grinned, and she knew she’d miscalculated. Badly.
Night Moves: A Shadow Force Novel Page 4
