Ruthless Hero: A Military Bodyguard Romance (Savage Soldiers Book 6)

by Nicole Elliot

  I supposed he was going to find out the hard way that he probably didn’t even have enough men to compete against Travis James.

  “I’m going to call your father. You will speak to him and tell him you are safe. The call will be quick, and he will want to see you. You will video call him briefly.” He paused, his eyes boring into mine. “It is very important that you do exactly as I say. You are going to tell him that you are safe, and that he should comply with our demands. You will tell him that I will hurt you if he does not do as I say.” He smiled sinisterly. “Oh, I should add, Scarlett, you will do as I say, or I will have fun with you first. Then I will hurt you.” He gestured violently to his men around him. “Then I will share you with my men. All twelve of them will be allowed to take their turn and take as long as they want. Then I will hurt you again, badly.” He spat the words of the last sentence out, his anger rising unchecked. “And if your friend from the hotel shows his stupid American face,” he added, “I will kill him. I will fucking string him up and force you to look at his dismembered corpse.”

  Just as quickly as his rage rose, it passed. He smiled pleasantly at me.

  I got the impression that he was prone to rages, and maybe even had a mental disorder. Either that or he was just a fucking psycho.

  And even though I hated it, I felt I had no choice but to do as he said, at least until Travis killed him. So I looked him square in the eyes. “I’ll do exactly what you want, I promise,” I said.

  His eyes roved around my body again. “Good girl. I don’t want to hurt someone so beautiful. It would be a shame. And I have principles. I do not hurt women, as a rule. But this? This is unavoidable.”

  I tried my best to look sorrowful. “I know. We all have to do things we don’t want to sometimes. It's just the way it is. When you’re ready, let me know. I’ll do exactly as you asked, sir.”

  He smiled. “I’ll be back in two minutes. I will speak to your father first. I need to appraise him of the situation. I hope he is a reasonable man.”

  I sat down on the mattress, my mind racing. I knew that if my dad did not meet his demands, or if I did not do exactly what I was asked, I would be in serious trouble. This Vincent was not a man you messed with.

  I hoped he was the head honcho, and that there was no one else above him who would come after us later.

  A few minutes later, he returned holding a tablet. “Yes. Do not worry. She is safe.” He turned the tablet to face me. I saw my dad at his desk, gripping the ornate wood. Whiskey was poured into a large glass tumbler in front of him.

  “Scarlett! This man said…where the fuck is Travis?!”

  I approached the tablet, looking around to make sure I wasn’t breaking some unspoken rule that I shouldn’t leave my little corner of the room. “Don’t worry about Travis,” I said. “He isn’t here. I don’t know where he is. He might be dead, for all I know.” The leader smiled behind the camera, nodding at me. I cleared my throat and continued. “Listen, Daddy. I’m safe. These men have been very kind to me. They have not hurt me and will not hurt me if you do exactly as they say.” I started to cry, feeling homesick all of a sudden. “Please, Daddy. I just want to come home.” I held my hands up in a begging gesture, palms clasped. “I promised to help these men if you comply, so they can get me home safe. Okay?”

  My dad whitened. He knew the threat. Give them the money, the software, or whatever they were after, or I wouldn’t be coming home.

  His eyes narrowed and hardened. “I will do as you ask. But please, understand I am not at the top of the food chain here. I need to make some calls. Can you call me back in one hour?” He sounded professional, hiding his fear.

  “Phillip, it’s me again.” The leader turned the camera to face him. He smiled softly. “You see she’s safe. I promise that me nor my men will harm her if you deliver on what we ask. I will give you her location once I have the software. Then you will wire me the money. Then we will leave, and you can organize a helicopter to come and get her.”

  “Deal,” my dad said.

  “You have half an hour. Then I’ll call you. I expect movement, Phillip. Don’t let me down.”

  Half an hour? Fuck. Come on, Travis. Where are you?

  I saw my dad nodding on the screen, his face distorted. Deadly silence enveloped the room.

  Until it was suddenly broken.

  There was a grunt from outside the house, followed by a shout an instant later. Then a gunshot echoed around the valley, quickly followed by another. A group of angry voices began shouting at each other outside the house.

  “What was that? What’s going on there? Is Scarlett safe?” I heard my dad ask, his voice high-pitched with worry.

  The gang leader hung up the call. “Vincent,” he said, “check what the fuck is going on outside. Now.”

  Vincent grunted and headed to the window. The two door guards had been peering through the dirty glass, hands cupped as they jostled each other for a better view.

  Two more gunshots sounded again in quick succession.

  “And you two idiots! Did you not hear that fucking rifle? Are you competing to see who gets shot first?” He was screaming now, veins pulsing on his neck and spittle flying from his mouth.

  I sat down on the bed, hands on my head protectively. I couldn’t help feeling a welling of emotion in my stomach, a tight knot of positive energy building. I looked up at the men in the room.

  I knew it. Travis had arrived. These men were all as good as dead.

  To my disbelief, Vincent went to the window, slapping the two morons out of the way. I don’t think he heard what the leader had said. He poked his head out and shouted something in Russian.

  “Vincent, what the fuck are you doing? You are all fucking m…”

  Blood sprayed from Vincent’s head, and he flinched back from the window as the gunshot echoed around us. He turned to look at us. There was a gaping hole in his eye socket, the wall behind him showing straight through it. He tried to raise his arm to point at the window, only to collapse to his knees, convulsing. He then fell over sideways, motionless.

  Travis

  My third target had been a slippery fuck. I’d shot at him, only for him to duck the moment I squeezed the trigger to take cover behind the remains of an old wall.

  Motherfucker just dodged a fucking bullet! What the fuck? Ain’t never seen no one do that shit before.

  I saw the pate of his bald head sticking four or so inches above the molding brick of the wall.

  I quickly reloaded and took careful aim. He didn’t manage the feat twice, the top of his skull exploding with a spray of horrid gore like I’d just shot an overripe watermelon.

  My confidence was restored.

  Four shots.

  Movement at the window caught my eye again. I turned the scope toward it, seeing two stupid Russians glaring through the dirty glass. They were saved by their own stupidity, each of them pushing one another erratically as they peered through the glass. I wasn’t wasting my last bullet on a potshot at two idiots.

  Then something amazing happened. The two men were slapped aside by a hulking figure. An ugly head popped out of the window, forming a perfect target. I was almost stunned by his sheer arrogance and stupidity. I reloaded the rifle, chambering my last bullet.

  I took aim at his large head. Just before I fired, he shouted something, probably at the guys hiding here and there around the farmhouse. And then he looked straight at me, his eye fixing on the scope, narrowing.

  The bullet went straight through his left eye. His head jerked back, and he dropped out of sight.

  Five bullets gone. Four kills. I kissed the wooden stock of the rifle and threw it away into the undergrowth beside me. I recovered the 9mm pistol in front of me and tucked it into my boot.

  I didn’t have any time to waste. I had to seize this moment of confusion, and pounce on the remaining gangsters before they were able to formulate some sort of effective defense.

  I edged back from the tree I was kneeling at b
efore rolling to my right, up on my feet in one swift movement. I ran parallel to the edge of the embankment heading for the old fence, which was to be my cover as I approached the house.

  I chose the revolver as my first weapon—well made, powerful, accurate and reliable. Clicking the safety off, I ran along the right side of the fence, ducking into a crouch as I sprinted as fast as I could at such an ungainly angle.

  As I got halfway to the house, I stopped my straight sprint and started a monkey run instead, shifting my weight from right to left, my steps awkward and wide. It was hard to get a decent shot off at someone who erratically stepped from side-to-side while running, as I knew all too well.

  A gunshot echoed to my left as I was spotted. It had come from outside the house, at the corner of the left wall. I spied movement from the edge of my vision.

  Seeing a relatively undamaged section of fence ahead, thick with bramble and weeds, I stopped suddenly, rolling across the hard ground into a crouch. I popped up from cover, right hand extended, left hand steadying the revolver as I rested it on the wood. I then closed my left eye and lined up my target’s chest into the iron sights. I’d covered enough distance for range to be irrelevant to my aim. My finger squeezed the trigger twice, letting the recoil subside for a split second before firing off the second shot. I was up and running as my target dropped to the floor, twitching.

  Bullets sprayed well above my head as I continued running. One of the Russians was using what sounded like an UZI to shoot at me from a downstairs window of the house, but he may as well have been shooting with his eyes closed.

  I reached the end of the fence, my approach masked again by thick overgrown weeds. I heard quiet Russian voices, likely on the far side of the wall where I’d shot the bullet dodger.

  Approaching the cover of the fence, I stopped, picking a small rock up from the uneven ground beneath me. I threw the rock over to my right, hearing a thunk as it struck brick. Alarmed shouts from what sounded like two men mere meters away drifted towards me.

  I took a deep breath and sprung up onto my feet, aiming the revolver over the fence. Two men were aiming their guns towards the noise of the rock I’d thrown. I shot them both in the head in quick succession, the snap of the recoil light in my tensed forearms.

  I hurdled the fence a moment later, landing lightly on my feet. A sudden flare of pain erupted in my left arm as I was shot, the bullet ripping through the flesh of my left tricep.

  One of the Russians in the ground floor of the house had spotted me, his pistol blazing rapidly as he fired off rounds in my direction. The angle was tight, his view obstructed by the narrow window he was shooting from.

  I jumped the wall and landed next to a Russian body as I leaned into the corner of the wall, where it met the outside of the farmhouse. I flexed my left arm, looking around for movement, but seeing no one.

  I glanced at my forearm. Just a flesh wound.

  Confident I was safe from danger, I quickly tied a bandage tightly around my left arm, staunching the blood flow. I edged along the wall of the farmhouse in silence, eyes scanning my surroundings.

  I figured there were at least two Russians on the ground floor, and at least two upstairs. Scarlett would be upstairs, likely against the back wall where there were no windows. I had reached the back of the farmhouse and poked my head around the corner. Still, no one in sight. I guessed the two men I’d just shot had originally been stationed on the far side of the building.

  Suddenly, I heard a woman’s scream from upstairs.

  Scarlett, I’m here. Hold on, doll.

  CHAPTER 28

  Scarlett

  The Russian gang leader had me by the hair. He talked quietly, likely issuing orders at his remaining men.

  I heard muffled voices outside of the building and the scrape of movement.

  A gunshot sounded from outside of the house. Two more gunshots sounded, and there was a grunt nearby.

  An automatic weapon suddenly exploded downstairs in short bursts. It was deafeningly loud, followed by deathly silence. Then two more gunshots rang out from my left. Nearer.

  Rapid pistol fire cracked from the ground floor, and one of the men downstairs shouted triumphantly.

  The leader, still holding my hair, ran towards the stairway, shouting down.

  I screamed in pain.

  Then a window smashed from the ground floor and two more gunshots sounded below me.

  Guess you didn’t get him, I thought with relief.

  My captor flinched as a Russian suddenly started screaming in pain from downstairs. His blood curdling agony carried in a pitch even I would struggle to match.

  My heart swelled at the thought of Travis and his cold blue eyes as he took out my kidnappers, one-by-one.

  Travis

  She was definitely upstairs.

  I had two bullets left in my revolver. It was time to finish this.

  I looked up and saw a window above me. As I stood, I smashed the window with the butt of the Tokarev as I drew it from my waist. I pointed the revolver into the room, shooting two bullets blind.

  There was a second of silence before a high-pitched scream pierced my ears. I heard pure agony in the Russian’s voice as he cried out in pain, probably for his God or his mother.

  I threw the revolver down at my feet, ammo spent. I then raced around the wall, ducking below the high, narrow windows. The screaming masked my run as I made it to the front door. I held the Tokarev in both hands, lifted my left foot and smashed the door, sending wood splintering.

  I was in the room in an instant.

  There were three men. One was on the floor, screaming and holding his thigh as blood pumped in unceasing gushes onto the dirty floor around him.

  Femoral artery. Game over, you fuck.

  An UZI lay next to him, forgotten in his blind agony.

  The other two men stared at their comrade in stunned silence as his wails started to subside.

  I shot all three in two seconds flat. The two still standing dropped like ragdolls, joining their comrade in a macabre heap. Running to pick up the UZI, I dropped the Tokarev. I didn’t know how many rounds were left, and I wasn’t risking Scarlett’s life on the preparedness of a dead Russian KGB agent.

  I checked the clip of the UZI. A brass 9mm bullet shone like rose gold at the top of the magazine. A spent clip lay on the floor behind the Russian.

  I had 35 rounds of death in the long clip that extended well past the handle. Enough to take out a room of Russians. I wouldn’t dare spray it at them with Scarlett possibly caught in the middle though.

  Scarlett

  Through the screaming downstairs, I’d heard a door smash violently, followed by three loud gunshots. The screaming ceased immediately and heavy boots thudded along the wooden floor below us ominously. Then there were a couple loud metallic clicks, followed by silence.

  The two remaining men had drawn silver pistols. My captor had a long brutal knife held to my throat. He backed towards the mattress I’d been seated on moments earlier.

  He barked orders in Russian to his henchmen. As they stared at him open-mouthed, he screamed at them in rage. In response, they exchanged glances and shrugged. Then they both ran down the wooden stairs to face Travis and it was over in an instant.

  Travis

  Shoes thudded on the floor above me. I pointed the Uzi at the top of the stairs in my right hand, steadying what I knew would be horrendous recoil by clasping my left palm over my right wrist.

  Two men ran down the stairs, guns held low as they sprinted. I didn't even have to aim. The UZI bucked violently in my hands as I held down the trigger. I sprayed bullets left to right at the men in an indiscriminate hail. They both tumbled and fell to the floor in a heap, motionless.

  I dropped the UZI and drew my short 9mm pistol from my boot, clicking off the safety. I unclipped my combat knife, moving it to the back of my pants, out of sight. After a moment to ensure the two who’d charged down the stairs were in fact dead, I ran up the stairs two
at a time with my gun raised in front of me, ready.

  Other than a giant Russian corpse with a huge hole in his head, there was only one man left standing. He held Scarlett savagely by her hair, with a long knife inches from her neck.

  My heart lurched at the sight of her.

  Head held high, her gaze was defiant. She smiled when she saw me, tears streaming down her lovely face.

  I froze. One wrong move and it had all been for nothing. I looked at the Russian. His face was calm, but his eyes blazed.

  “Travis, how nice that you could join us. I’m sorry I was not able to be more…hospitable. In other circumstances, I’m sure I could have offered you a lucrative deal, but alas…” He motioned at the body near my feet.

  “If you think I’d ever consider working for you, think again, you slimy fuck. I’m not here for money.” I glanced at Scarlett.

  “Aha! I see now. So you are more than just a bodyguard? How touching.” He sneered. “If I kill her now, all of your considerable efforts will be for nothing. Then I will kill you.” His face contorted, twitching with anger.

  “I don’t think so,” I said calmly, calling his bluff. “You kill her, you got nothing. All of this will be for nothing. Weeks, months of preparation. Promises to your buyer you can’t keep. Debts you can’t pay.” I looked him in the eyes. “Listen to me, because I have one final offer for you.” I threw the pistol I was holding down the stairs behind me, the metal clattering loudly on the wooden steps. “I’ll give you one chance to kill me, you dirty Russian fuck. I’m unarmed. That was my last gun I just threw away.” I held my hands up.

  “Put your fucking hands on your head,” he spat. “Do it!”

  I complied.

  He pushed Scarlett behind him, and she fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

  My hands were on my head as he cautiously approached, knife held in his right hand at his waist. He inched forward, incredulous as I stood stock still. His eyes were wide, mixed with anger, adrenaline, and fear. He dropped into a fighting stance, his left arm raised in a guard.