“Be real, that’s all I ask—be into it. I’m real; I’m a straight-up kind of dude. I’ll say it like it is, no bullshit. I’ll tell you it ain’t gonna be love because that shit doesn’t exist, but I’ll also promise it’ll be the best damn night of your life, and I’ll give it everything I’ve got to make that promise a reality.” He met my gaze again. “And what you’re doing, Fancy? That shit ain’t real. It ain’t even fucking. It’s just…sex. And, Honey, that’s sad, if you ask me.”
My head was spinning, my heart aching, my eyes stinging. “You’re a bastard, Duke Silver,” I said, my voice thick, breaking.
“Dammit, all I meant was—”
My voice was a hissing whisper. “Do not fucking talk to me. Don’t call me Fancy, or Princess, or any of that shit. You want to rip my life apart? Okay, fine, whatever. But you don’t get to keep talking to me, or acting like you know me. You don’t know me. So fuck…you.”
“Temple, calm down a second.”
“Fuck YOU!” I shouted. “I tell you things I’ve never told anyone, I finally open up to a man because I think maybe I’ve found the one guy who could understand me, just a little, or at least accept me, and what do you do? You tear me apart and make me feel like shit. Like I’m just some slutty ice queen.” I can’t help a sniffle, a tear, but then I clamp down on it and focus on pushing the emotions back down where they belong—under the surface, deep down, never to be seen again. “God, just when I thought I couldn’t get hurt any more, along comes Duke fucking Silver and his pompous, arrogant ass, proving me wrong, proving to me that, yes, there really is yet another way a man can hurt me.”
Duke opened his mouth to speak, but then the world ended in a deafening crash, and then the universe was spinning and twisting and flipping and something white exploded in my face and something crushed into my chest and something else sliced across my face and lanced past my breast and there was another crash and noise and pain—
7: YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT
Well…fuck.
Again.
I felt myself coming to, but this time it happened all at once, and in a blinding flash of pain. Then I was hit with the sudden realization that I was upside down, and that something was wrong.
Everything was wrong, but something big and important and specific was very, very wrong.
I forced my eyes open, struggling to focus past the crushing pain in my skull and the blood rushing to my head and the blood dripping down my chin and into my eyes and off my nose. Glancing to my right, I could see Temple, dangling limp, suspended by her seatbelt, passed out. She was a mess. Blood was matted in her hair from a cut along her hairline and another dripping slice across her chest, right across that perfect cleavage of hers.
What happened?
I was in pain, but nothing felt too fucked up. A headache, whiplash, aches and bruises—
I glanced to the left, out the window. We’d been knockoff the highway and had rolled down a steep embankment, through a fence, and were upside down in a field. This was the middle of nowhere, a desolate stretch of highway that saw little traffic, which made it not an accident.
Confirming my suspicions I saw, a quarter mile away, the hoods of two big black Wranglers parked side by side, angled in toward each other. They were kitted for off-road duty with big knobby tires, heavy duty brush guards, LED light bars, winches, and snorkels. Each Jeep was in the process of disgorging four men each armed with HK MP5s, and what looked like body armor. They were walking, single file, in our direction in a neat, precise line, all eight of them. Submachine guns up, butts to shoulders, laser sights on me.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
I braced my hand against the roof below me, and popped open the seatbelt buckle. I toppled clumsily to the floor…ceiling, whatever. The shotgun, thank god, had stayed in the vehicle with me, so I grabbed that and tossed it out the window on the opposite side of the car. Positioning myself beneath Temple, I unbuckled her, caught her as best I could, which meant letting her lower half hit the floor/ceiling and catching her head and shoulders with one arm. I checked for shards of glass in the shattered passenger window, kicked out a few remaining jagged spots, heaved Temple’s limp weight out as far as I could, then scrambled out the rear window, already broken in the previous firefight. I pulled Temple the rest of the way out, and left her passed out behind the crumpled wreckage of the SUV. Peeking over the Tahoe, I could see that the mercenaries were only a couple hundred feet away.
I snagged the strap of the Mossberg, leaned into the trunk compartment and snagged a box of shells and one of the AR-15s. I dumped the shotgun shells in a pocket, tossed the box aside, and pumped the charging handle of the AR-15. Checked the magazine—full.
I glanced around me, looking for alternate cover, and saw nothing but the wreckage of the Tahoe and a stand of Aspen a good two hundred yards behind me. Plus a passed-out, bleeding Temple.
And eight professional badasses coming my way, with proper firepower.
Good thing I’m more badass than most professional badasses, right?
My duffel bag was inside the SUV. I hooked a foot into the strap and tugged it toward me, and yanked open the zipper. Where are they? Shit, shit…there they were: two flashbangs, buried under the cash.
I peeked up over the top of the upside down SUV and saw I was shit out of time.
I pulled the pin and tossed the flashbang, ducked back down behind the bulk of the vehicle, counted to three—
BANG!
This close, the detonation was deafening, as it was meant to be. The second I heard the bang, I sprang up, laid the barrel of the Mossberg over the top of the Tahoe, and squeezed off a blind shot into the smoke pall left by the flashbang, the butt kicking against my shoulder like a mule, then swiveled to the right and fired again, swiveled back the other way and fired again, then ducked down, thumbed fresh shells in to replace the spent rounds, and set the shotgun aside, bringing the rifle up.
I waited a ten count, and then rolled out around the back end of the Tahoe. The smoke was clearing, and two of the mercs were down, one writhing in pain and one motionless. The other six—
Shit. One of them was nearly on top of me, firing as he trotted smoothly in my direction. His shots thunked into the body of the SUV, and I returned fire before ducking back behind cover. More bullets were plugging into the SUV, now, from the remaining six men. The racket of gunfire was deafening, and I knew it was only a matter of time before they started punching though and getting lucky.
As the lead guy was rounding the tail end of the Tahoe, I had no choice but to fire from a crouched position, my rounds crunching through his throat and sending up a spray of blood. I grabbed him by the vest and pivoted behind him, feeling his blood rivuleting warm down my side as I pressed my shoulder into his back, felt him groaning, heard him gulping wetly, and then he was jerking as his companions’ rounds slammed into his armored chest. I moved sideways with him, using him as a shield to absorb the fusillade of bullets, and then threw him forward as I reached the back end of the Tahoe. They’d flanked me from the right, coming around the hood.
Which meant Temple was between us.
Rage blasted through me, which I couldn’t afford to give into. I had to keep cool, keep my head, and fight smart.
But fuck, they might hit her, or I might hit her, or they might just snatch her and run—
I rolled back out, rifle sweeping in a horizontal arc as I sidestepped into the open.
They had Temple.
One in front, holding her limp form across his body as a shield, the rest of his buddies clustered behind him. He was assuming I wouldn’t shoot, that I wasn’t willing to risk hitting Temple.
Never call my bluff, motherfucker.
I put three rounds through the face shield of the man holding Temple, since he didn’t have a gun to her head. He dropped her to the grass, and fell backward, and then I was opening fire, strafing round after round as I hurled myself sideways. Hit the ground rolling, left the rifle on the grou
nd and whipped up the shotgun as I came to my knees a few feet away.
Temple was still out, but she was moving and moaning now. The mercs were backpedaling, finally realizing exactly who the fuck they were dealing with.
A bullet creased my shoulder, another sliced my side open, and a third tugged at the loose fabric of my shorts, burning my thigh as it seared past me. Good thing close doesn’t count. I aimed high, let loose with that sexy fuckin’ twelve gauge, blast after blast, driving them backward and scattering them. One fell, then a second. Another bullet plucked at my shirt, a second scraped the outside of my ribcage, and a third buzzed past my ear. This was getting too close for comfort. One thing about luck is it always runs out. The trick is, know when to fold your hand before luck runs out on you.
I burst into a run, right at them, thumbing shells into the chamber before unloading more slugs their way. I was aiming more toward them than at them, trying to scatter them, suppress their fire and make ‘em run. Which is what they did, the two that were left on their feet.
They were hauling ass across the field, and making damn good time, too. With the rifle I could’ve dropped ‘em, but with a shotgun, at this distance? I didn’t even try. Just let ‘em run.
They reached their Jeep, and I stepped out into the open after them. “TELL CAIN TO FUCKIN’ BRING IT!” I shouted. “I’LL TAKE ON EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!”
One of them answered with his HK, sending half a dozen rounds in two bursts at me. He missed by a mile, but got his point across. I ducked back behind the SUV, letting them get away, especially since Temple was starting to sit up.
There were groans coming from most of the guys on the ground, but I was too relieved to see Temple sitting up on her own to worry about them.
Once I was sure the two survivors had driven away, I scrambled to her side. “Hey there, Fancy. How do you feel?”
She moaned, clutching her head. “Hurt.” She dabbed at her face, glanced down at her chest. “What happened?”
I unbuttoned her shirt, pulled it off, and used it to gently wipe at the cut across her chest, which was long and messy but not deep. “We got knocked off the road.”
She hissed. “How do they keep finding us?”
I wiped at the cut to her face, which was even more minor, a little nick across her forehead. “That’s what I want to fucking know. You’re gonna be okay. A couple cuts, and you’ll ache for awhile, but nothing damaged that I can see.”
She eyed me. “You’re bleeding too.”
I thumbed more shells into the chamber of the shotgun. “Yeah, well, nothing to worry about. Cuts and bruises like you.” I stood up. “Stay here a minute.”
I trotted over to the nearest guy moaning on the ground and put my foot into his shoulder. I kicked him over onto his back, and then stuck the gun barrel in his face. “You speak English, dickhead?”
He’d taken the shotgun slug to the chest. His vest had absorbed some of the impact, but he was still in a bad way—those vests will stop a lot, but not a twelve-gauge from close range.
He glared up at me, spat at me. “Fuck you, fuckhead,” he said in a Bronx accent.
“Guess that’s a yes.” I knelt beside him, drew my KA-Bar from the sheath and stuck the point under his chin. “Listen, I really don’t wanna do this in front of the lady, but I will if I have to, yeah? All you gotta do is tell me how you fuckers keep finding us.”
He laughed, wheezing, coughing blood. “You must be dense.” He laughed again. “You think you’re winning? You don’t know shit. You can’t get away. You can kill some of us, but trust me when I say Cain is just playing with you. He’ll find you. And he’ll make you pay.”
I pushed a little harder. “Save the tough talk, numbnuts. How’s he finding me? Talk, or I’ll gut you like a fish.”
I could feel Temple watching. That tempered me, just a little.
The guy laughed again. “Do what you want. I don’t give a shit. He’ll find you.”
“He’s a piece of shit gangster. What’s he gonna do? Feed me to the fishes?”
Another derisive, wet, sucking laugh. “You don’t know shit,” he repeated. “You think this is about that rich bitch over there? You must be dumber than you look. Cain is more than you’ll ever know.”
“Ooh…ominous.” I sheathed the KA-Bar, wishing Temple wasn’t here so I could just pop the fucker in the head and be done with it. “Let me guess, he has a secret lab on a secret island, and he’s got a nefarious plan to take over the world.”
That fucking laugh again. “If ignorance is bliss, you must be the happiest shithead on the planet.”
I gave a disgusted huff, and then left him to bleed out; it wouldn’t be long. I went back to Temple and helped her to her feet then got her back into her shirt. I snagged the duffel bag from the ground, grabbed one of the AR-15s and some magazines from the back of the Tahoe, and led Temple to the remaining Jeep.
“HE’LL FIND YOU!” Came a shout, with another of those wet, gurgling laughs.
Temple tried to look back, but I hauled her in a near run to the Jeep. “What did he mean by that?” She asked, clearly trying not to sound hysterical.
“Nothing.”
Temple whacked me on the arm, which stung, because that was the arm that had been opened earlier. “Don’t bullshit me, Duke.”
I shoved her into the passenger seat and rounded the hood to hop behind the wheel. Thankfully the keys were still in the ignition. The engine started with a burly rumble, and I peeled out in a wide arc, bumping up the incline and back onto the empty highway.
“He’s full of shit. Talking some nonsense about how Cain will find us, he’s playing with us, blah blah fucking blah.”
Temple’s frown was worried. “Normally I’d call that bullshit too, but it does seem like they just…know where we are, or where we’re going. They just keep showing up out of the blue. It doesn’t make any sense.”
I scratched my jaw, and then shifted my torso, testing the sting of the various cuts and aches. “Yeah, you’ve got a point. And I’ve been pretty damn lucky the last couple times they’ve showed up. They underestimate me, and I pull out the win by the skin of my teeth. But my luck’s gonna run out sooner or later. You can only get into so many outnumbered gunfights before someone gets in a lucky shot, and it only takes one.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” She craned her head to look back at the scene we were leaving, the overturned SUV, the bodies scattered around it. “How many were there this time?”
“Eight.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “And they’re getting better every time.”
“But you’re the best, right?”
I wasn’t sure if she was joking or not; I shrugged. “In most situations, yeah. But there’s always someone better, somebody luckier. And it don’t matter how lucky or how good you are, they send enough guys, catch me with no cover and no backup, it won’t matter what I do. This shit is becoming a lot more serious than I assumed at first.”
“So what do we do?”
I sighed. “Same plan as before. I’ve got to connect with my guys. This is too much for me to deal with solo. There’s shit going on I’m not smart enough to figure out—I just don’t have all the information. I need Lear and Anselm and Puck. I need Thresh, goddammit. With that motherfucker by my side I can fuckin’ wreck the world. These jackasses won’t stand a chance. But on my own…trying to keep you safe? My options are limited.”
“So where do we go?” she asked. “How do you reach them?”
“Harris has his main compound not too far from here. Couple hours drive at most. I’m gonna head there. If he’s not there Layla should be, and she can reach him.”
I dialled Harris’s personal cell phone number, but it went straight to voicemail—unsurprising given that he only used his encrypted satellite phone when he was on assignment. Problem was, I didn’t have that number memorized.
I dialled Thresh, got his voicemail. Dialled Anselm, got his voicemail.
“Godda
mmit, nobody is fucking answering!” I shouted in frustration.
Finally, I tried Lear. He never answered his damn phone, although he’d usually call back if you left a message.
It rang half a dozen times, and then, thank god, he answered. “Hello? Who’s this?”
“Lear, it’s Duke. What the fuck is going on, man? Nobody is answering their damn phones.”
“Duke? Shit, man, it’s good to hear from you. You went AWOL, we’ve all been trying to find you.”
“Yeah, well, things are completely FUBAR, Lear—”
“You’re telling me,” he interrupted. “I’ve been scrambling for days, trying to find you, trying to dig up intel on Cain, trying to track down Thresh—it’s nuts, man. Look, I gotta go. Harris is waiting for my call.”
“Lear, wait a second. I’m in deep shit, still, I need—”
“Can you get to the compound?”
“I’m on the way there already, but—”
“Anselm is at the compound. He can sort you out. I really gotta go, man. Harris is the air circling, waiting for this intel. Get to the compound and talk to Anselm.”
And then the fucker hung up. I wondered what the chances were he’d even tell Harris he talked to me; when Lear was in hyper mode, he’s completely one-track, and forgets pretty much everything except what he was working on. I tossed the phone aside in frustration.
“Stupid tech monkey,” I growled.
We drove in tense, awkward silence, and then finally, after almost an hour of that, Temple swiveled her head to look at me.
“Duke, about earlier—” she started.
I took her hand. “We can talk later. Try to rest, yeah? It’s been an awful few hours.”
She eyed me levelly, and then nodded. “Fine. But I have things to say to you.”
I grinned. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
Temple rolled her eyes at me, and then reclined the seat and was soon snoring softly.
I was glad she could sleep; she seemed to be dealing with this mess better than anyone had a right to. I wasn’t sure I’d be sleeping any time soon, but that was a little different.
Duke: Alpha One Security: Book 3 Page 14
