Hot as Hell

by Monette Michaels

  “Well, I should hope so. But still, please let them know we’re all right as soon as possible. Sam’s got to be going stark raving bonkers.” Dawn looked at Keely’s tablet. “Will I be able to see the outside camera feeds on that tablet of yours?”

  “Yes.” Keely pulled up a screen and then handed it to her. “The red icons are the camera locations. Tap on one and you’ll see the live feed. You can use night vision or not, depending on the area lighting. The cameras also have infrared sensors.” She demonstrated how to switch between night-vision to infrared and back.

  “All the mod cons. Thanks.” Dawn put the tablet into sleep mode to dim the screen after locating her first target’s exact position.

  “Be careful,” Keely said. “I’ll try to work around their audio jammer, so put on one of the headsets.”

  Dawn snagged one out of the case and put it on, making sure it was ready to receive.

  “I’ll contact you once I get the com system working again.” Keely cursed at the phone she held to her ear and disconnected, then dialed “0” this time. “God, the frick-fracking emergency line is busy. Um, operator… yes, police emergency… yeah, I’ll hold.”

  Keely looked at Dawn and fluttered her hand. “Shoo. Go. Take out bad guys. Then get your ass back here PDQ so Sam doesn’t kill me for putting you in danger.”

  Dawn snorted. “I’ll be careful, mum.”

  Keely shot Dawn a middle finger as she spoke into the phone, “Yes, I’m still here. Don’t you people understand what a frick-fracking emergency means?”

  Moving into the tunnel, Dawn made her way up and out. She could smell the ocean on the night air, which was still warm from the heat of the day, and the exotic blooms from the formal gardens surrounding the house. El Jefe, whoever the fuck he was, had a lot of money to waste on watering subtropical rain forest plants in what was a subtropical desert climate.

  The escape tunnel exited behind an artfully designed rock wall that was further camouflaged by Jacaranda shrubs in full bloom. Dawn paused. While still hidden in the shadows of the tunnel opening, she sheltered the tablet’s screen with her body and rechecked the guards’ positions.

  Her first target hadn’t moved and was only ten meters away, by the pool house. The dumb ass was smoking a cigarette. Even if she hadn’t seen his image on infrared, she would’ve smelled the smoke as it wafted on the light breeze. She wrinkled her nose against the pungent scent that smelled like camel dung.

  Sliding the tablet into her bum bag, she pulled out the dart gun and loaded one dart and tucked an extra one into her knife sheath. She stalked her prey, using the abundant foliage and shadows to cover her approach. Every sense on high alert, she pictured every possible thing that could go wrong and how she’d counteract the situation if something did. The worst-case-scenario would be if the tranquilizer didn’t work quickly and the man cried out. She needed to get close enough so she could cover his mouth as he went down.

  Risky? Yes. But she didn’t want him shouting and bringing his mates into the mix.

  As she approached, the low-level lighting in the pool area gave off enough light for her to see the guard clearly. Stopping behind a large fern about three meters away, she waited for a second or two to see if the man had heard her approach. He didn’t move and continued to act as if he were on vacation rather than guard duty. His assault rifle was carelessly slung across his back. His focus was straight-ahead— and on his cigarette.

  All in all, she wasn’t impressed with the first of Benrabi’s security guards. If the others were this lax, she’d be back in the safe room in no time.

  Don’t get cocky, Dawn. All the cocky bitches get killed in the movies.

  Just as she was about to move from behind the fern and take the smoking guard down, he received a call over his radio. His Arabic wasn’t a dialect she recognized, but she got enough of the gist to know this was a routine report and he wouldn’t be missed for a while after she took him out. Her lucky streak was still going strong.

  From the outside camera feeds, as far as she could tell, there were only four exterior guards. If she could neutralize them, her Marine, Ren, and Conn would have a cake walk in their infiltration of the estate. She had no doubt they were already on their way, so she needed to get to work.

  The guard clicked off his radio and resumed smoking. She tip-toed behind him and when she was less than a meter away, she took aim and shot him in the neck. He inhaled sharply, reached for the dart, and then dropped to the ground.

  She’d have to compliment Ren for buying a highly potent tranquilizer. Still, she was cautious when she bent over to make sure the man was completely out.

  His breathing was slow and he didn’t react when she touched him. Luckily for her, he had a couple of sets of flex-cuffs which she used to restrain his hands and ankles, then she used his headdress to gag him. She removed a knife she found and hid it under some bushes with his rifle. Before she left him, she ground his still-burning cigarette under the heel of her flip-flops.

  One down, three to go.

  She reloaded the dart gun, then checked the tablet and moved to the next unsuspecting prey by the garage area.

  Chapter 14

  Sam pulled the Rover into a driveway less than fifty yards away from the entrance to the private road leading to the rental. He turned to Ren, “What’s the plan?”

  “God, I love my wife.” Ren grinned like a loon as he swiped off a call he’d received mere seconds ago on his phone.

  “Hell, we know that, man,” Sam said, “but she’s in danger. Why are you smiling?”

  “She and Dawn noticed their guards were down so they went to the safe room in the basement before the house was breeched. They’re okay.” Ren laughed. “There’s no way those fuckers can get into that safe room. The drug lord who owns the estate built it to withstand WWIII and the zombie apocalypse. Plus, I also stocked the room with some extra weapons, just in case.”

  “Thank fuck.” Dawn was safe. Sam turned to high-five Conn who sported a shit-eating grin on his face. “That means we can go hunting without the girls getting caught in the crossfire.”

  “Um, well, not quite.” Ren’s voice wasn’t quite as exuberant as before. “Our gals aren’t sitting on their so-fine tushes, waiting for their men to rescue them.”

  A sick feeling hit Sam in the gut. “Where are their tushes… exactly?”

  Ren gripped Sam’s shoulder and squeezed. “Keely’s in the safe room monitoring Benrabi, MacLean, and five other men as they search the house. She’s blocking them from accessing any of the estate camera feeds and trying to take down their audio jammer so she can feed us intel directly.” He sighed. “But Dawn’s sneaking around outside, eliminating bad guys so we don’t waltz into a clusterfuck.”

  “Shit… fuck… damn.” Sam hit the steering wheel with each curse, before stopping to take in Conn and Ren’s commiserating, but somewhat amused expressions. “She didn’t think two former spec ops Marines and one Navy SEAL could handle a bunch of third-world tangos and a former DIA desk jockey?”

  “Guess not, buddy.” Conn patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s go see what your little woman has left us to do.”

  After one more muttered curse, Sam exited the driver’s side. He ran to the back of the vehicle to meet up with Ren and Conn. The three of them pulled out body armor and weapons and swiftly loaded themselves up.

  “We’ll head for the outside entrance to the safe room,” Ren said. “Keely said by the time we get there, Dawn should be back inside. She’s tranquilizing the perimeter guards and then cuffing them.”

  Sam heard the respect for Dawn’s actions in Ren’s voice. Damn, his woman was a warrior, and he’d be sure to let her know how proud he was of her … once she was safely snuggled in his arms.

  They set off for the estate at a quick jog. As they made their way toward the back of the sprawling house, they ran across two of the guards Dawn had taken down. They were semi-conscious, bound hand-and-foot, gagged with pieces of their own clothi
ng, and disarmed.

  Conn shot Sam a wide grin.

  Sam shook his head and chuckled silently. Yeah, Dawn would’ve made a damn good spec ops Marine.

  Ren gave them a hand signal to hold up, then he scouted ahead. Sam and Conn hunkered down in a grouping of ornamental shrubs. A few seconds later, a low whistle told them to come ahead. They met up with the SSI boss by some flowering bushes.

  They moved behind the foliage and confronted what looked to be a rock wall. Ren opened a small door camouflaged as part of the rock to reveal a key pad. He entered a code and a door slid open and led into a LED-floor-lit tunnel that sloped downwards. Entering the tunnel, Sam and Conn followed as Ren led. The door behind them slid shut with only a change of air pressure to indicate its closing.

  Less than two minutes later, they entered a room with beds, supplies, and a computer array that would make NSA proud. Keely was in the center of it all, the mistress of all she surveyed.

  “Sprite,” Ren called out. Keely jumped up and ran to her husband.

  “Where’s Dawn?” Sam asked Keely.

  “Still outside. She had one guy left at the end of the driveway.”

  “Fuck.” Sam walked over and looked at the camera images, switching to infrared to spot human heat patterns more easily. He spotted Dawn’s small figure as she used the landscaping to cover her approach to a guard. He admired her stealthy approach.

  “They are not in the house. MacLean can waste time inside if he wishes.” Benrabi’s accented voice came over the audio feed.

  Sam hunted for and found Benrabi and another man on a camera image as they exited the front door of the house.

  “Our men are not answering us,” Benrabi continued. “The infidel bitches must have gotten to them. Outside is where we’ll find the whores.”

  “Fuck.” Sam turned and headed for the tunnel. “I’m going out to backup Dawn. Then we’ll come back and help y’all with MacLean and the rest of them.”

  “Hell, buddy,” Conn said. “If Ren and I can’t handle the other assholes, then we might as well retire and watch soap operas and eat bonbons.”

  ****

  On adrenaline-overload, every muscle in Dawn’s body was tight with tension and the strain of having cuffed and pulled three large men’s bodies into the shadows. Her breathing was overly rapid and she was hyper-alert to every noise and movement around her.

  Leaning against a palm tree, Dawn used the trunk to block the light from the tablet and rechecked the position of the last guard. He was secreted in a small grouping of ferns by the entrance to the long driveway leading to the house. She only had cover for about four meters of the twenty meter distance between them.

  Checking over the dart pistol, she took off her holsters and placed them under a bush, then she tucked her gun into the bum bag and placed the dart gun into the waistband at the back of her shorts. She rubbed some dirt over her arms and legs and disheveled her hair. Then she ripped her tank top so that one strap was torn and the front of the shirt revealed far too much of one pale breast.

  Faking a limp, she hobbled down the road toward the man whose gaze was fixed in the direction of the main road and not scanning his surroundings as a more expert guard should be doing.

  Where did Benrabi get these jokers? Guards ‘R Us?

  When she was about two meters away, she stopped, bent over, and wheezed as if she were out of breath. She braced her dominant hand on her back, just above the grip of the dart gun.

  “Help me! Please,” she panted out, keeping a sharp eye on the man.

  He stepped out of the shadows into the light cast by one of a series of ornamental light posts lining the drive. Bringing his submachine pistol up, he aimed it at her.

  “Come here, woman.” His accent was thick, not Yemeni. Maybe Syrian.

  Dawn straightened somewhat, but kept her hand on her back as if she was in pain, and then moved forward with an exaggerated limp.

  The man’s expression showed no fear—and no suspicion of her at all. She was, after all, a mere woman, harmless and needing a man to direct her every action.

  Yeah, you just keep thinking I’m harmless, you fuckwit.

  He moved forward, his weapon now aimed at the ground. His gaze was fixed on her naked breast, which had fallen completely out of her top as she moved. He had an unholy gleam in his eyes.

  Was the twatface salivating? He was.

  Anger flowed through her veins like molten lava. In one fluid move, she pulled the dart gun, brought it around, and shot him in the throat. The shocked expression on his face as he fell face down on the pea-gravel drive made her happy.

  She shoved the dart gun into her back waistband and rushed forward. Checking his belt and his pockets, she couldn’t find a single, bleeding flex cuff on his person.

  Luckily, she had an extra set she’d taken off one of the other guards. She cuffed his hands behind his back and then used his own knife to cut his shirt into pieces and gagged him. She tossed his gun into a run-off ditch alongside the drive, then turned to head back to the safe room tunnel entrance.

  “Bitch!”

  The speaker came around a curve in the driveway and ran straight at her. It was Benrabi and the man MacLean had called Armando was on his heels.

  She barely managed to twist away from Benrabi’s grasping hands. She swiped at him with the downed guard’s knife she still held in her hand and caught the sheikh’s arm. He roared in pain and anger, but before he could grab her, he tripped over the guard she’d just felled.

  Armando moved toward her, slowly, inexorably, with an evil leer on his face. He was huge. His large hands probably could break her in two as easily as most men could snap a twig.

  Shifting the knife into her non-dominant hand, she moved away from Armando and the cursing Benrabi, back into the landscaping along the driveway. She kept the knife pointed at Armando, warding him off as she used her other hand to pull the dart gun from her waistband.

  Bloody buggering hell. She kept her hand behind her back. The dart gun was empty and her handgun was in the zipped bum bag. She couldn’t load the dart gun and hold the knife at the same time or unzip the bum bag with one hand. So she dropped the knife.

  Armando looked at the knife lying on the ground and laughed.

  Dawn pulled an extra dart from a back pocket in her shorts.

  “Come to me, puta.” Armando crooked a finger at her. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

  The man was confident that she was the prey and he, the predator. Yeah, right, and the Queen was a Yank.

  Still backing away and with both hands behind her back, Dawn loaded the dart gun by feel. She’d done it enough this evening that she had the process down. She kept her eyes on Armando and Benrabi who now struggled to his feet.

  “Bitch, you cut me.” Growling like a wild beast, Benrabi stood, a gun in his hand. He pointed it at her.

  She dove for a small grassy ditch just as he shot.

  Either his aim was off or he’d intended to shoot her in the leg. The bullet creased her thigh.

  “Bloody hell!” Dawn hit the grassy berm and rolled down a slight slope. When she stopped rolling, she was on her back in the shallow ditch. She had managed to hold onto the dart gun and brought it up and shot Benrabi in the face as he dove at her with a bellow.

  The dart lodged in the soft tissue of his cheek. She had an up close and personal view of her marksmanship since he’d fallen on top of her before she could move out of the way. His gross, smelly bulk now covered her from head-to-toe like an obscene lover from hell.

  “Fucking arsehole weighs a fucking ton.” She gasped, trying to catch a full breath—and not succeeding. She wiggled and shoved and wasted what little oxygen she had, but couldn’t budge the arsebadger at all. She needed to get out from under him, because she was seeing spots—evidence she could lose consciousness soon—and Armando was still a danger.

  Suddenly the air thickened like a thunderstorm was about to break. The atmosphere was so dense, so charged with electric
ity, she found it even harder to breathe. Or maybe that was because the arsehole Benrabi was compressing her diaphragm.

  Danger was definitely coming. It had to be Armando, stalking her, prolonging the threat, making her wait before he pounced. Shit, she couldn’t get to her gun or even reload the dart gun, which was still in her hand, because that arm was pinned down by the ape on top of her.

  Bleeding hell. She renewed her efforts to shift Benrabi off her.

  Then a roar rent the silence of the night. “Dawn!”

  Was she dreaming? That sounded like Sam.

  Pounding feet approached her position from the direction of the safe room tunnel.

  Armando leaned down to pull Benrabi off her. He’d use her as a hostage, but he didn’t get the chance.

  “Motherfucker,” Sam yelled and Armando’s face disappeared from her sight.

  Thud. Thwap. Grunts. Groans. Sam was fighting to protect her and she could do nothing to help him. She struggled to get out from under Benrabi or at least move him enough so she could see what was happening.

  And then there was silence, heavy and thick, broken only by rapid, harsh breaths.

  “Sam… luv…” she cried out.

  “I’m fine, sweetheart.”

  His words brought tears to her eyes. Benrabi’s bulk was torn away and she took a deep breath of glorious air. Then she winced as her ribs protested the sudden, violent expansion of her lungs.

  “Sweetheart? You hurt?” Sam knelt by her prone body. With his gun in one hand and aimed at Benrabi—he used his free hand to check over her limbs, testing joints with a competent, gentle touch.

  “I’m all right.” She panted like an exhausted puppy. She smiled at his concerned face, backlit by the lights lining the driveway. “Thanks… getting… arsehole off. Stop… fussing. Benrabi won’t… unconscious… for long. Armando…”

  Sam leaned over and kissed her silent, giving her his breath. “Armando’s dead. If Benrabi moves, he’s dead. Now, lie still and let me take care of you, little warrior.” He blew out a breath and leaned his forehead against her. “You did good, little cat. You can partner me on an op any day—God … sweetheart… I sent you away and put you in danger. Forgive…”