Forbidden Fantasies Bundle

by Dawn Atkins

  She really was remarkably strong. She’d held up better than most men would have, and he wondered again why there were no women allowed in Special Forces. Yeah, they went into dangerous situations, but the women he knew were amazing warriors. Kate had faced things no one should. Kosovo had been as tough as it gets, and all she’d been concerned about was saving lives and making sure justice was served. Not easy when corruption was the order of the day, and no one cared who died in the pursuit of power.

  Then Harper and Tam, they’d nearly been killed too many times to think about. Not a whimper out of either of them. They just did what needed to get done efficiently and smartly. He was proud he’d gotten to serve with them, and it pissed him off royally that they were in hiding now, afraid for their lives, living in the shadows, like him.

  And if they didn’t catch the geek? He wouldn’t wish his life on anyone, let alone Christie. It was lonely and difficult, and there wasn’t a moment that went by that he wasn’t aware he was hunted.

  He’d thought a lot about the geek, and the possibility that he was connected to the Company. Just thinking about that made him angry, and he had to get up from the bed and walk off some steam.

  Christie looked at him, but he just paced, waiting for her to get done with her business. Jesus, he wanted to get his hands on that prick. If he was connected, then there was no choice, they’d have to take him out. Then they’d have to find his place and clean it out. All that before going deep underground yet again. A new name, a new place to live.

  He wished they could just leave L.A., but that wasn’t possible, not if they wanted to ever get out of this mess. The men they were hunting had their headquarters here. The team had followed the evidence here, and this is where they’d get it back.

  “Uh, Boone?”

  He stopped. Christie stood a few feet away, concern all over her beautiful face. “Yeah?”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Right. I’m done in here. I have to get Milo’s stuff put together.”

  “Okay. I’ll get your suitcase.”

  She watched him as he went to the closet, and he forced his thoughts to the here and now. Tonight might be the last time he ever saw her. If they were successful, and he had no doubt they would be, she would go back to her life, and he would go back to his. Maybe he’d figure out a way to check up on her. Make sure she was getting on all right.

  No, that would be too difficult. He’d cut it off, make it quick. Say goodbye, and forget about her. When he was back in the world, that’s when he’d find her again. If she were still available—

  “Boone?”

  “Yeah, right. Suitcase.” He got the bag, in which she’d clearly packed bricks, and headed toward the living room. Christie followed until they reached the kitchen, where she went off to put together a bag of Milo’s supplies.

  Boone put the suitcase near the door, then went to the window. It was too soon for the geek to make his move, but he’d be listening. For the next few hours, they’d have to appear happy, confident that they’d be making a successful escape.

  Nothing was happening on her street. No one was walking a dog or watering the lawn. It was almost nine, after the dinner hour. Time for TV or homework, or whatever happy families did on a weeknight.

  “Is someone out there?”

  He turned. Christie was standing in the light from the kitchen, her hair dark and shiny, her T-shirt snug across her breasts and loose in the middle where it hid her Glock. “No, nothing.”

  “I know it’s going to hurt your puritan soul, but I’m going to make cookies. You can come and scowl at me if you want.”

  “Cookies? Again?”

  “See? All’s right with the world.” She shook her head as she headed to the stove.

  What the hell. Cookies, ice cream. She was right. Now was no time for denial. She could eat any damn thing she wanted tonight. Tomorrow, when it was over, he’d talk to her about her diet, and see if she’d be willing to make a few—

  Shit. Tomorrow, he wouldn’t say a word. She could eat cookies for dinner forever, it was none of his business. He went to the kitchen table and sat down. Milo came over for a pet, and Boone obliged.

  He watched as she got out yet another package of frozen cookie dough, then turned on the oven. She wasn’t shaking, or looking over her shoulder. In fact, she seemed remarkably calm. “Hey,” he said, keeping his voice low now that they were in the safe zone.

  “Yeah?”

  “You okay?”

  She came to the table and sat down next to him. “Shockingly, yes. It’s going to go the way it’s going to go. I can’t do anything else to prepare, and I can’t sit here and worry because that wouldn’t do any good, either. So, it’s cookies and hot chocolate. One step at a time. One foot in front of the other.”

  “Damn,” he said.

  Her lips quirked up on one side. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I think you’re pretty amazing.”

  “Yeah?”

  He nodded.

  She leaned over to brush her lips over his. “It’s mutual,” she whispered.

  He held her steady with both hands and kissed her, hard. He hoped like hell it wasn’t their last.

  THEY FINALLY GOT INTO BED at two. Of course, neither of them would sleep, but they had to keep quiet as well as stay alert. Christie had managed to feed him a half-dozen cookies, and he felt weighed down, even though he knew he was imagining things. Before a battle he liked to feel hungry.

  The only thing he was hungry for was more time with her. Now that it was all coming to a close, he felt as if it had gone by in a flash. Forgetting her would take a hell of a lot longer.

  Dressed and with her weapon snug in the waistband of her jeans, she crawled into bed and pulled the covers over her body. He got in next and once he was settled, he listened carefully, but there was only the soft sound of her breathing to break the early morning silence.

  The worst part of the evening had been taking Milo out. They’d let him run in the backyard, both of them watching, and waited while he found the perfect spot to do his business. The whole time Boone been incredibly aware of Christie’s fear. She hadn’t said anything, but man, the vibes pouring off her were palpable.

  He’d comforted her as much as he could, but in the end the only thing that had helped was coming back inside. Of course, that was where the real danger lay. If the geek was going to make his move, it would be sometime in the next few hours. Had it been Boone’s operation, he wouldn’t wait too long. The best time would be when the targets were in the REM cycle, about forty-five minutes after they’d first fallen asleep.

  He stiffened as he felt Christie move, but realized quickly that she’d simply touched his side with her fingers. He found her hand with his and gave her a squeeze. What he wanted to do was hold her, but he couldn’t take the chance. They had to mimic sleep, get their breathing slow and steady. Holding Christie would make that impossible.

  “I can’t stand this,” she whispered, so softly he just made out the words.

  “Yes, you can. Just breathe deeply, visualize shooting the target. Go through every motion carefully and slowly.”

  She tugged at his fingers and he heard her take in a long breath.

  He, on the other hand, didn’t think at all about shooting, but about who it was that had done this to Christie. His vote was for an ex-boyfriend, someone she’d let go. He could understand being upset about that. Christie wasn’t your average woman, and for a man to find he didn’t measure up would be a real blow. The road from hurt to obsession wasn’t long. Given time, desire had morphed into the need for revenge, coloring his whole existence.

  And that made this plan the right plan. This man, this sick bastard, wouldn’t be able to stand the idea of someone else taking “his” Christie away. He’d have to do something tonight, before she could be stolen. But how would he get into the house?

  The last time, he’d cut open a window. If he did the same
tonight, Boone would know it before he finished the first cut. Seth had put sensors on every windowpane in the place including the bathroom, even though the geek would have to be a child’s size to get in there.

  If the geek were smart, and he was, he’d try another route. The garage, perhaps. There was only the one door which was locked, but not with a dead bolt. It wouldn’t be that difficult to jimmy the lock, and get in the house. The disadvantage there was his lack of a camera or microphone. He couldn’t know if someone was lying in wait.

  He wouldn’t try the front door. The dead bolt, the likelihood of being spotted by a neighbor. The risks were too great. Which left what?

  Milo whined, got up, turned in a circle, then lay down in the exact same spot next to the bed. His head went to his paws, then lifted again, looked about, then down. Boone supposed he was feeling Christie’s anxiety, but didn’t know what to do about it. He could just reach far enough to give the old boy a pet.

  His hand went over Milo’s head and neck, and the dog snuffled his appreciation. Boone didn’t mind the contact, either. His thoughts turned back to the geek as he let his hand roam idly down Milo’s flank as he eliminated one entry way then another. His finger brushed against something that stopped him cold.

  He touched it again. A dart. “Oh, shit,” he said, throwing off the cover and bringing up his gun.

  “Too late, Boone. Why don’t you just put that down on the floor before I put my bullet through your brain.”

  16

  CHRISTIE FROZE, terror swallowing her whole. He was here. In her house. Afraid to move at all, she did shift her head enough that she could see the end of the hallway. All she could make out was a dark shape, nothing clear, and not enough to figure out who he was.

  “All right,” Boone said, in the voice he used to calm her down. “Just cool it. I’m putting down the gun.”

  How could this bastard tell that Boone had a gun? Night vision, like in the cameras. Shit, he could see them, but they couldn’t see him. And how had he gotten in?

  “Slowly,” the bastard said. “Try anything tricky and I’ll kill you.”

  “All right.”

  Christie heard a thump as Boone’s gun hit the carpet. Now that she’d heard the voice a second time, there was something familiar about it, but she couldn’t connect it to anyone she knew.

  “Now get up. Both of you.”

  Boone squeezed her hand quickly, then started to rise to his knees. She knew the bastard meant business, but she couldn’t move. If she kept breathing like she was, she was going to hyperventilate again, and God knows what he’d do to Boone. She longed for her baseball bat, but she had no idea where that was. The gun in her waistband should have been a comfort but she couldn’t figure out how to get it out and aim and shoot when she couldn’t even see him.

  “You, too, Christie. On your feet.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked, ashamed at how her voice trembled.

  “Just get up.”

  She tried to move—honestly, she did—but her legs were stiff and the pressure on her chest was too heavy. Bracing herself on the mattress, she pushed herself up and then she remembered the flashlight.

  How could she get it when her heart was beating so hard she could feel it in her toes? She wanted to be brave, to save the day, to be Sigourney Weaver facing the alien. But she couldn’t even get her hand to move to the side of the mattress.

  It was right there.

  “You want me to shoot him? Is that what you want, Christie?”

  “No,” she said. “I’m just scared, okay? So it’s hard.”

  “Scared? You don’t know scared.”

  Boone got to his feet, keeping his hands in the air. “I’m going to help her, okay? One hand down.”

  “No. She can do it herself.”

  It sounded as if he were closer. He’d moved a couple of feet, she thought. More in the living room than in the hall. She took a deep breath, and as she let it out, she moved her left hand those few inches beside the mattress. Her fingers touched the cold metal of the flashlight, and she gripped it so tightly she could feel the switch dig into her skin.

  “You,” the bastard said. “Move away. Get off the mattress.”

  “Sure,” Boone said. “Whatever you say.”

  The bastard laughed. “You think that’s going to work on me? You moron. I’ve seen it all. Everything. You think you found all the cameras?”

  “No, I’m sure we didn’t.”

  “Just shut up. I don’t want to hear another word from you. Christie, stop stalling. Do it.”

  Boone was now farther away from her, but she could at least see him in the hazy light coming through her curtains. It was more difficult to see where the bastard was, as the hallway was so far from the window. There was nothing to do but try. It would have to be quick and sure, and she was neither.

  But Boone was counting on her. There was no doubt in her mind that the bastard would shoot to kill.

  She pulled her legs under her, balanced on her right hand. The flashlight was under the edge of the blanket, so she knew the bastard couldn’t see it.

  “What do you want from her?” Boone asked.

  “What did I say? Did I tell you to shut up?” The bastard’s voice had risen to a shout.

  “What did she do to you?”

  “Boone,” she said, “shut up.”

  “I just—”

  “Shut up,” she said, louder this time. Everything would be over if the bastard turned away. She had to keep him looking at her, watching her. “I know what he wants. And I’m going to give it to him.”

  The bastard laughed, and the sound made her sick to her stomach. It was as if all his twisted desires were right there in that low laugh.

  She held her breath as she got to her feet, holding the flashlight by her side, making sure her finger was on the switch. “Tell me what you want,” she said, needing his voice to get her bearings. “I’ll do whatever you say.”

  “I know you will. You’ll do every single—”

  She turned on the switch at the same time she pointed the light straight at his voice.

  He yelped, and then she heard a crash. Boone was on him, and they were both on the floor, the bastard’s gun glinting in the beam.

  “Your gun,” Boone screamed, and then he took a blow that knocked him to the side.

  She ripped at her T-shirt and got the Glock. She was holding the flashlight and she didn’t want to drop it, but she’d never fired the gun with one hand.

  The two men were still on the floor and she’d never been so scared in her whole life. If that prick hurt Boone, she’d kill him a hundred times.

  Their grunts and punches sounded flat and unreal. If she could just get the gun over to Boone, it would all be okay. She tried to steady the light, but when she did, she saw that the bastard was hitting Boone with the butt of his weapon, and Boone was bleeding badly. He punched the son of a bitch, but it only stopped the fight for a moment. The gun came up again, smashing against Boone’s temple.

  She couldn’t aim the gun, not when she was shaking so hard. Boone’s words came back to her, telling her what to do.

  She climbed over the mattress and didn’t let herself think, she just went to where he was bashing Boone with the gun and she had to stop him, right now. She threw the flashlight down, held her gun with both hands and pushed it into the bastard’s side, right there, right where he was lifting his arm to hit Boone again, and then she closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.

  Nothing happened.

  It was the safety. She cursed and slipped the safety off, but then her legs were knocked from under her and she fell so hard her head bounced off the carpet and she couldn’t see or feel anything but pain.

  The gun, her gun, was ripped out of her hands, and she curled up into a ball waiting to feel the bullet rip through her body. The sound of the gunshot made her scream and she jerked, but she didn’t feel anything except the pain in her head. All she could think was that Boone ha
d to be okay. He had to or she would die.

  “Christie.”

  Hands on her shoulder, shaking her and she couldn’t open her eyes or stop the scream that was building in her throat.

  “Christie, I’ve got you.”

  She gasped as she opened her eyes. It was Boone, standing above her, swaying back and forth.

  He lurched away to the hall, and the light blinded her painfully. When she looked up again, Boone was leaning against the wall, his face bloody, his right eye swollen. Her gun was in his hand, and dripping.

  She struggled up and went to him, needing to make sure he was really there, that they were both still alive. She touched his shoulders then pressed herself against him, and when he looked down at her, that’s when she cried. Her tears flowed as she looked at his bruised and bloody face.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. Then she rose up on her toes and kissed him.

  He grunted, but he kissed her back.

  She tasted his blood, but she didn’t care. They’d made it. They’d lived. She was in Boone’s arms.

  When she finally pulled back, she caught his wince. His mouth was really banged up, his lip split at the corner. “Oh, God, you’re really hurt.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said. He nodded past her. “You recognize him?”

  She forced herself to look at the body lying on her carpet. “Oh, God.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Dan. The guy I…It’s Dan.”

  “He won’t be—”

  The front door flew open and Seth ran in, weapon drawn, his face a mask of rage. It took a moment for him to register that it was already over, and even then he went to the body, and kicked away Dan’s gun, then checked his pulse. As he crouched there on the carpet, he looked at the two of them. “Sorry. He didn’t trip any of the alarms. We didn’t know until we heard him talking.”

  “I don’t know how the hell he got in,” Boone said. He closed his eyes. “I’m thinking crawl space.”

  Seth came over to her and touched her shoulder. “You okay?”