Dangerous in Training (Aegis Group, #2)

by Sidney Bristol

  “Why?” She threw her hands up.

  “Because...” He perched on the edge of the tub and propped his elbows on his knees.

  “You can’t even give me a good reason.”

  “Because I was out of my mind. I can’t remember it. If I’d been there mentally, I’d have, I don’t know. Done something special, because you deserve it. What can I say? I’m an asshole, I should feel guilty for being me.”

  “You are not an asshole.”

  “Was it...at least...good?” Had she gotten off? Or had he...shit, had he come and rolled over like a drunk slob?

  Please say you came...Please, please, please.

  “Uh.” Hannah’s cheeks glowed a bright red in the blink of an eye. “Yeah, good is a word I’d use to describe it.”

  Well hell. How good?

  “Did you get off?” Man, what he wouldn’t give to remember that.

  “Oh my God, do we really have to talk about it?” She covered her eyes with one hand. The blush spread down her neck, but the most telling was her smile.

  A woman didn’t smile like that if an orgasm wasn’t included.

  “Hey, my two greatest fears in that situation are, did I hurt you? And did you have a screaming-O?”

  “I’m so not having this conversation with you.”

  “I was there, remember?”

  “I do. You don’t.”

  “You can’t help a guy out and fill in the blanks?”

  “I thought you’d prefer it that way.”

  Mason stood, snagging her hand and tugged her to her feet. Hannah dropped the hand from her face and stared at him, suspicion mixed with a smile. His heart did a summersault in his chest just looking at her.

  “I’m sorry I don’t remember, and that I’m an ass. You shouldn’t feel guilty about anything. Not last night. Not for the girls. Nothing is your fault.”

  “If I hadn’t been so stubborn about coming, none of this would have ever happened.”

  “You can’t think like that. You can’t take on the responsibility for someone else’s actions.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, because he needed to feel her and she seemed like she could use a shoulder.

  Hannah’s body fit against his, her head nestled just under his chin. He squeezed her and ran a hand down her silky ponytail. Another memory of her hair between his finger tips, her breath on his neck shook loose. She’d moaned then. Loudly. He seemed to recall an issue with volume control. Blood pumped straight to his cock, eager to revisit that particular moment in time.

  “What’s going to happen?” she asked.

  Right. Life-threatening circumstances. Great way to kill a boner. Just what he needed.

  “Abraham’s going to come through. We’ll make contact with Zain. He’ll hopefully have IDs on the girls and some background information. We figure out how they picked you, maybe we find them. Cruz sounds like a pretty bad guy, so if we can get in, get the girls, and get out fast, that’s ideal. I’d rather not start a war with the local kingpin.”

  “Thank you.” Hannah squeezed him back and lifted her chin from his shoulder.

  “We’re going to be okay.”

  She nodded, but didn’t seem convinced.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  Hannah nodded again.

  “I promise nothing bad will happen to you.” He smoothed a stray tendril of hair behind her ear.

  She leaned her head into the touch, and again, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d done this before. That locked somewhere in his befuddled brain was a moment that echoed this one. Face to face, touching her, in her, the kind of thing he wanted to remember.

  He didn’t know who moved first, maybe they both did. Their mouths met, a gentle press of lips. Sweet, soft, and perfect.

  Dylan shoved the metal door open so hard it bounced against the side of the building.

  “I found her,” he announced.

  Rogelio glanced up from the table and the papers strewn over the surface. The four other thugs didn’t bother even looking at him. Then again, those idiots couldn’t even speak English.

  “I found the blonde.” Dylan stopped next to the desk.

  He’d had to pay good money to Cruz’s own people to get a head start on the info. That money was going to set him back two months, but at least he’d still be in the boss’ good graces. He couldn’t lose Hannah. She was too valuable a commodity.

  “Where?” Rogelio asked. The fucker didn’t even care. But it wasn’t his ass on the line. All he had to do was pick the girls up and deliver them.

  “Next door to one of Cruz’s old buddies. Abraham.” Dylan slid his phone with a snapshot of Hannah and her boyfriend across the desk.

  “They won’t still be there.” Rogelio glanced at the image and shrugged.

  “My guy says they’re still there. They haven’t left.”

  “You have a guy sitting on them, and you haven’t gone to get her already?”

  “They’re with an arms dealer. I’m not stupid.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  “I need some guys to go get her.”

  “No way. I’m not losing anyone to get a piece of ass you couldn’t handle on your own.”

  “Rogelio, the boss wants this girl.”

  “Because you pre-sold her to him.”

  “You don’t understand how this business works, do you?”

  “Hombre, I’ve been doing this longer than you have.”

  “Whatever. You’re just a delivery boy.” Dylan turned toward the door.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Could he go to Cruz and get the manpower he needed?

  Probably. Hannah was valuable enough to fetch a good price, despite her age. But Dylan had wanted to handle the acquisition himself.

  “This delivery boy knows how to get the girl,” Rogelio said.

  Dylan paused in his tracks, one hand stretched toward the door.

  The fucker was playing him.

  Still, getting Rogelio’s help was better in the long run.

  “How?” Dylan turned.

  “Abraham is a coward. We wait. Keep your man on them and tell me when there’s a change.” Rogelio flipped through more papers. The man didn’t even glance up at Dylan.

  Could he afford a couple hours?

  He’d have to make it work.

  No more virgins.

  He’d stick to the sure thing from now on.

  8.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  Mason stood from his seat in front of the door, gun pointed at the ground. Hannah leapt to her feet, the mattress squeaking under her, retreating to the semi-shielded corner on the far left side of the room between the bed and bathroom.

  “Quién es?” he called out.

  He crept toward the door, gun pointed at the ground.

  “Your friendly neighbor.” Abraham’s voice was easy to identify.

  He peered through the dirty peep hole, but it was too grimy to see the hallway. On purpose? Or a result of circumstance?

  Mason unlocked the door, save for the chain, and peered out, his gun trained at about chest level.

  Abraham stood on the other side, a nondescript duffle bag in hand. The man was either unflappable, or had the best poker face Mason had ever seen.

  “I trust the accommodations have been up to standard?” The man smiled, ever the charming salesperson.

  “Fantastic. Thanks.” Mason shut the door and slid the chain out of place before letting Abraham in.

  “I have everything you asked for. The IDs won’t withstand American scrutiny, but I doubt that’s what you want them for.” He strode to the bed and set the bag down. “Everything else is here.”

  He unpacked the bag, laying out phones, a tablet, a couple stacks of cash, four weapons, boxes of bullets, two tactical vests—old models but they’d do in a pinch. The stuff just kept coming. Some of it Mason had asked for, some he hadn’t.

  Abraham must really dislike Cruz to give them a bonus like this. That, or maybe Zain h
ad patched things up? Doubtful, but there was always a possibility.

  “Hello, my dear.” Abraham turned, smiling at Hannah.

  “Hi. Is all this stuff ours?” She crept closer, eyeing the haul.

  “It is. I hope it’s enough to keep you alive. Cruz’s people don’t shoot first, in case they can make a buck off you, so you’ll have that advantage on them. Use it. Before they change their policy.”

  “Thank you,” Hannah said.

  “No, thank you for your business, my girl.” Abraham held out his hand and grasped Hannah’s in what one might call a sincere gesture.

  Mason didn’t trust the guy.

  He leaned over the bed, powered on the tablet and phones. The bullets got dumped out on the bed. He thumbed through the cash. The IDs would have to do. As for the credit cards, they might be able to run a transaction at the front desk to prove it.

  “I trust everything is in order?” Abraham said.

  “I won’t know until I try some of it out.” Mason loaded one of the guns and put a bullet in the chamber.

  “It would not be in my best interest to sell you subpar merchandise.”

  “Then what do you call these?” Mason pulled the vests out and stuck his hand in the empty shock plate slots. “Where are the plates?”

  “Did you check the bottom of the bag?”

  Mason dug into the duffle, and sure enough, two Kevlar woven rectangles were caught under the plastic bottom. They fit the two vests reasonably well, but he doubted they were the originals.

  “Should you need any further goods, you clearly know how to find me.” Abraham tipped his fedora to Mason. “Good luck finding your friends.”

  Abraham turned, bid goodbye to Hannah and strolled out of the door. Mason stalked after Abraham and slid the locks in place.

  “What’s wrong?” Hannah asked.

  “I don’t know.” But he had a bad feeling. Something wasn’t right.

  Abraham was being too helpful. Why?

  A good salesman might slash prices to undercut a competitor. But Cruz wasn’t in arms dealing. So what benefit did Abraham get in helping them? A simple grudge wasn’t the answer. There was more going on than Mason knew about and he didn’t like it.

  “You’re scaring me with that angry face.” Hannah crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Sorry, just thinking.” He strode back to the bed. “You remember how to shoot a gun?”

  She reached for the closest Glock, checked the chamber and ejected the empty magazine with the kind of quick fingers a seasoned soldier might have. He chuckled and pushed the box of bullets toward her.

  “Shooting a person is a lot different than shooting a target,” he said.

  “I know.” Her lips thinned. She inserted the magazine and pulled the slide back, loading a bullet into the chamber like a pro.

  “If you can run, you should always run, but if there is no other option, protect yourself.”

  “I got it. Will you call Zain, please?”

  He grabbed one of the phones and checked the signal. Full battery and a strong signal. Not too shabby. He jabbed in Zain’s direct line and waited.

  “Hello?”

  “Zain, it’s me.”

  “About damn time. How’d it go with Abraham?”

  “Good. Too good.” Mason stalked to the window and peered out to the street.

  “Yeah, I think I know why.”

  “Why?”

  “Looks like Cruz and Abraham used to be tight, back before Cruz’s business changed. Abraham supplied Cruz with weapons and he turned around and brokered gun deals with the bigger cartels. From what I can tell, a year or more ago it all changed. Cruz stopped selling guns, I bet because someone horned in on their business. I heard about a guy—never mind, not important. Anyway, Abraham didn’t like that. I’m not sure what happened, but the rumor is Cruz had some guys break into a house Abraham had here and kidnapped his staff. A couple local girls who cleaned and looked after his place for him.”

  Mason’s gut clenched. Zain didn’t have to fill in the blanks.

  “It’s personal,” he said.

  “Yeah, I suppose so,” Zain replied.

  “What do you have on our girls?”

  “Christine and Natalie, roommates from San Diego, California. They won tickets to an all-expenses paid vacation. Their families don’t know they’re missing yet.”

  “Where’d they win the tickets?” Hadn’t Hannah said she won tickets, too?

  “The resort. They gave out five hundred nights to one of the big radio networks and they’ve been giving them away.”

  “What about any other winners—?”

  “Already ahead of you man. Of the five hundred nights, that’s averaging to one hundred winners. Roughly sixty percent of the prizes have been claimed, and forty percent of those people have already used their trip. That makes about eighty or so people who have stayed at the resort. It looks like two other girls have gone missing—but here’s the thing. They never checked into the hotel. They vanished somewhere between leaving their homes and the airport in Mexico. There’s documentation they went through customs at a smaller airport, then nothing. No tickets. No flight manifest. Nothing.”

  “Private plane?”

  “That’s where I’m looking now.”

  “Okay, keep digging. I’ve got a name here I want to look into, see if I can get some answers.”

  “How are you two doing? How’s Hannah holding up?”

  “Good.”

  “Keep it that way. Her dad will be home in four days.”

  “Hopefully we’re back by then.”

  “I’ve got my eye on return flights and I’m seeing who we know is in the area with planes or a boat, just in case.”

  “You’re the best, Zain.”

  “Nah, I‘ve just been in it too long to leave an extraction to one chance. Anything else I can do?”

  “Not unless you want to join us.”

  “You need to come home.”

  “I can’t.”

  “I know, but I have to say it.”

  “I’ll check in at eighteen hundred hours. You have this number, I’ll text you the other burner, then turn them off.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on the line.”

  “Later.”

  Mason hung up and pocketed the phone.

  “Well?” Hannah toyed with the end of her ponytail.

  “Abraham has a beef with Cruz, so I can see him being overly helpful.” Mason gestured to the stuff on the bed. “No one is looking for the girls, and I’d suspect the resort is in on the gig based on what Zain is saying. I want to go talk to Luis, see if I can get some answers.”

  “Is that safe?”

  “For him? No.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Stay here. With Abraham next door, I’m betting Cruz won’t come too close. We’ll move hotels when I get back, though. I don’t want to be out on the street at night.”

  “Okay.” She nodded. “When are you going?”

  “Now. I’m going to steal a ride, go to the hotel, see if he’s there and have a chat, then be back before the sun starts to set. Can you try to find us a different hotel? Just search local stuff.” The kind of place they wanted to stay wouldn’t be on any Internet search, but he needed to give her something to do.

  “You’re going to steal a car?” Hannah gaped at him.

  “I’ll return it with a full tank of gas, if that’ll make you feel better.”

  “You can’t steal a car!”

  “Hannah, I can’t do this job without a ride. We can’t save your friends without cutting some corners. What would you have me do?”

  “It’ll come back in one piece?”

  “I’m not going to blow it up. I’ll need it to get me back here.”

  “Fine. Go. I don’t like this.”

  He cupped the back of her neck and kissed her forehead.

  “Stay inside. Don’t call anyone. Keep away from the windows. I’ll be back soon.”


  He quickly suited up, exchanging shorts for jeans, putting the vest on under a t-shirt. One gun went into the top of his boot, the other in the waistband of his jeans. A third was overkill, but he couldn’t shake the urge to bring it, just in case.

  To protect Hannah, he had to leave her vulnerable. It went against all his training, but they needed answers, and right now, Luis was their only lead.

  Hannah paced the room.

  The digital clock ticked away the minutes.

  Mason had been gone for nearly an hour. How far could he have gone? Could he steal a car in that time? How long did something like that take? Or had he gotten caught? He could be in police custody right now for carjacking and she wouldn’t know it.

  She scrubbed a hand across her mouth, her stomach in knots.

  He would be okay. He had to be. Saving people was what Mason did. He was a hero. Even if he didn’t see himself that way.

  Mason had secrets. Nearly all the guys who worked for Aegis had something in their past they weren’t proud of. She’d heard the stories. She could handle the darkness. What she couldn’t bear was the idea of Mason not coming back.

  But he was coming back.

  For her.

  Because that was the kind of guy he was.

  Whatever he’d done, whatever he wasn’t proud of, he was still a hero. Her hero. They’d get the girls back. They had to. She needed to believe that.

  A door banged against a wall. Was that coming from next door?

  She crept to the door and pressed her ear against it, listening.

  Yes, those were voices. They sounded like they were coming from Abraham’s room. Was everything okay? Did he have “guests”? Was he in danger? Should she do something?

  Something scraped along the wall separating the rooms. Every so often there was a light thudding sound, like something was dropped or maybe closed hard, like all those gun cases.

  She scurried back to the bed and picked up the gun, squeezing the grip tight, her trigger finger extended along the barrel just like her father had shown her.

  Hannah tiptoed to the window and peered out.

  A large van sat at the curb. Several men loaded it full of the black cases while Abraham stood in the shade, smoking a cigar barely in her line of sight.

  He was leaving.

  Mason had expressly said she was safe because Abraham was there—and now he was leaving.