by Joni Hahn
He shared a glance with Tristan as they pulled off their gloves.
“They’ve got a fire on the top floor and everyone’s being evacuated. Warner is with her. I need you to track her phone, find her and bring her back here. I’ll have Rose meet you onsite and fly you out.”
“Roger that.”
Mitchell disappeared from the screen.
Riordan cursed under his breath. He wouldn’t go there. Wouldn’t give into the panic, wouldn’t think about Natalie in danger, hurt, or with Warner. He had to treat this like an op, like part of his job.
Yeah, good luck with that.
Tristan turned his back to Riordan and held out his arms at his sides. “Let’s go, Saint.”
He did a double take. “What?”
Tristan looked over his shoulder. “You want to get to her, don’t you?”
It wasn’t a matter of want, but need. He had to reach her.
Swallowing hard, he gave a brief nod.
Jacobs shook his head once. “I fly cheap and can get you there in seconds. Just lock your arms with mine.”
Surprise and relief washed through him. His teammate wanted to help. Instead of an hour or two, he’d be with Natalie in seconds.
Backing up to Jacobs, Riordan braided his forearms with Tristan’s. “I owe you, Jacobs.”
“You don’t owe me shit, Saint. This is what we do.”
Swallowing over the lump in his throat, Riordan gave him the address. He shut his eyes as green plasma floated around him in a hazy fog.
I’m coming, baby.
A second later, light flashed in the room, blinding him, before the floor fell out from under his feet.
#####
They rushed into the lobby. Thick smoke billowed from the elevator shafts as occupants filed out of the stairwell, a firefighter rushing them through the front door. Natalie’s lungs felt full, dry as she struggled to breathe. Holding her hand over her mouth, she coughed into her palm.
John held the crook of his elbow to his mouth as he led her onto the sidewalk. Utter chaos met them. Multiple police cars pulled up to the scene, sirens blaring. A fire truck with lights whirling sat in front of the building. Policemen with whistles directed people off the street, others set up barricades at the end of the block.
Natalie rushed across Broadway, her hand in John’s hot palm. Reaching the opposite side of the street, they shoved through the crowd and onto the walk, the smell of perspiration and fire permeating the thick air. Voices surrounded them on all sides as people spoke into their phones, giving recounts of what had transpired.
A man in dark glasses and a suit stepped into their path.
“Ms. Meeks?”
She stopped short. “Yes?”
“Your father sent me. He wants you to come with me.”
It’s all your fault.
The text message popped into her head. How did she know this man belonged to her father’s team? And, why hadn’t her father called her first?
She looked at John, who glared at the agent. How did she know John didn’t send it? And why was he in the building this afternoon at closing time?
Releasing his hand, her gaze darted between them, her heart racing against her ribs. Who could she trust?
“Meeks.” Her name sounded over the fire truck’s bullhorn and sailed over the chaos and noise.
Catching her breath, she whipped around as the crowd silenced.
Riordan.
He stood on the step beneath the open driver’s door, strong, confident... beautiful. Wearing workout gear, his hair was pulled back from his face, though several strands had escaped. His eyes searched the crowd, before he spoke to a dark-haired man standing on the ground below him.
Tears filled her eyes. He’d come for her.
An ambulance rushed past on the street between them, blocking him from view. A moment of panic hit her, robbing her breath. She couldn’t lose sight of him. Not again.
Shoving through the crowd, she heard John call to her but she forged ahead. Nothing mattered but getting to Riordan.
Rushing past the officer that herded the crowd, she ran to him, needing to touch him, needing to know he wasn’t a mirage.
The policeman’s shout faded into the roar of a revving engine. She stumbled, the heel of her shoe catching in a crack on the hot asphalt.
“Meeks, no!”
She could feel herself falling but felt helpless to stop. Gasping, she whipped to her side.
The police car would hit her.
Her mind registered the thought just seconds before she hit the ground and slid along the asphalt. Hot, burning pain sizzled up her leg to settle in her thigh.
Riordan was there, standing before her, his arms extended in front of him. A ripple washed over her, warped and heavy, pulling her toward him. The car creaked and groaned as the driver’s side rose in the air, the underbelly visible above her head. It rolled past on two wheels as Riordan slid in the opposite direction, the powerful, magnetic force repelling him away from her. The rear tire brushed her head before the car dropped to four wheels on the pavement. It rolled to a stop several feet away.
Oh God… Her wild heart lodged in her throat, her body shaking from head to toe. Her bare leg burned like wildfire, scorching, stinging.
Riordan squatted before her, his hands shaking where they hung between his thighs. Copper and gold armbands engraved with intricate carvings, wrapped around both of his forearms. His dark eyes bore into her as his gaze scoured her from head to foot.
“Come on, baby.” With ease, he lifted her into his arms. Pain registered along her leg but she dismissed it.
Riordan held her.
Applause and whistles exploded across the street as he walked in the opposite direction. Glancing over his shoulder, she saw scores of people holding up their phones, taking video.
The dark-haired man met them on the sidewalk. “This way.”
They ducked behind the fire truck and rushed down the walk. Jaydan Rose stood beside a dark SUV at the end of the barricaded street.
The dark-haired man opened the back door. Riordan set her in the middle of the seat. Her skirt hiked up to reveal a long strip of road rash down the side of her leg. He cursed under his breath.
The man slapped him on the back. “Be thankful she wasn’t hurt worse.” He ran around the vehicle to climb in the passenger side.
Riordan scrambled in beside her and shut the door.
Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her against him to relieve the pressure on her leg. She wrapped an arm around his waist and snuggled against him. His sweaty, spicy scent enveloped her in comforting safety.
“Thank you for saving my life.”
His fingertips grazed her cheek as he wiped away her tears.
“He just wanted to show off his new enhancements in front of an audience.” Jaydan grinned in the rearview mirror as he pulled away from the curb.
The dark-haired man shook his head. “Mitchell is going to be pissed when he finds out. Once that shit hits the internet, we’re going to need security for our security agency.”
Holding out his hand toward the man, Riordan said, “Natalie, this is Tristan Jacobs. Mitchell’s son and D.I.R.E.’s top agent.”
The man glanced over his shoulder with a half-smile and a nod. Now that she looked at him, he was actually a really hot, dark-haired man, with Mitchell’s pitch-black hair and blue eyes.
“Hell, after that spectacle, Saint, I could lose my seat to you. That was one helluva save.”
Natalie smiled up at Riordan with admiration. “You were pretty amazing.”
His gaze traveled over her face before he turned to the men in the front seat. “You hear that? Pretty amazing. Sounds like I’m going to have to come up with something bigger to impress her.”
Tristan chuckled. “You could always repel a fork into the ceiling. That impressed me.”
She grabbed one of Riordan’s armbands to study it. The carvings were a maze of science and criminal justice image
s, The D.I.R.E. Agency intermixed among them. Flipping over his arm, the band fused into the flesh of his arm.
His enhancement had been installed. He was now a superhero.
Her gaze shot to his. The urge to kiss him shoved her toward him, persistent and brash. She stared at his mouth, remembering his taste, his hands on her body.
His eyes swirled in awareness before he looked away. “Rose, we need to have her leg looked at before we head out.”
She frowned. “Head out? Where?”
His baby blue eyes swirled with anxiety. “Mitchell wants you at D.I.R.E. Headquarters in Nevada.”
She sat up to face him. Burning pain knifed through her leg. Curling in her lips over her teeth, she smothered a wince.
“Why? Because of the text?”
His scowl looked downright frightening. “What text?”
Reaching into her pocket, she handed him her phone. “I received it minutes before John helped me out of the building.”
Tristan spoke over his shoulder. “What’s it say, Saint?”
“It’s all your fault. Same as the bomb threat.”
“The caller said the same thing?” She glanced back and forth between them.
With a grimace, he nodded slowly. “The voice was computer-generated but yes, they said the bomb threat was all your fault.”
Riordan’s face blurred from view. Someone would kill innocent people to get back at her? For what? What did she do?
Regardless, she couldn’t remain in Riordan’s company. What if they came after him?
Scrambling away, pain clipped her words. “I need to get out.” She scooted to the opposite door.
His wide eyes held an incredulous gleam. “Like hell you’re getting out. We’re getting you to Nevada where you’ll be safe.”
“And you won’t.” Brushing tears from her cheeks, she reached for the door handle. Riordan leaned over and stayed her hand.
“Have you freaking lost your mind?”
“I need to keep you safe,” she cried. Turning to the front seat, she said, “Let me out, Jaydan. I’ll call my father.”
Riordan clutched her arm in a tight grip. “You have lost your mind if you think I’d let you go now.”
She shook her head. “Riordan, no-“
“Meeks. Look at me.”
His hard, commanding tone stilled her in the seat. Her gaze shot to his determined, sapphire eyes.
“We can argue twenty-four seven, and you can run from me until your legs won’t carry you anymore – it doesn’t matter. As long as I’m alive, I will protect you. Do you understand? There is no protecting me. If you die, we both do.”
Chapter 8
“What do we know?”
Riordan marched into Mitchell’s office with Rose. Mitchell and Tristan looked up from the table-sized computer.
“What the hell, Saint?” Mitchell glared at him. “Did you give the crowd balloon animals and lollipops before you left the street?”
Going around the table, Riordan stared down at the streaming video of his rescue. It had already hit the internet. Damn, he really had put on quite a show.
“If it was Angela sitting out there, you would’ve done the same thing.”
Mitchell had just gotten back his wife, Angela. PDA’s between the two were a common occurrence on the compound. Hard ass Mitchell Jacobs became a softie around her. He had to understand.
Narrowing his eyes, Mitchell said, “Are you saying Natalie is that important to you?”
Riordan clenched his jaw. He couldn’t say that. Refused to say it. Only a fool would admit that to Mitchell.
Besides, Riordan needed to know if she’d played a part in his disappearance.
“I’m saying she would’ve died if I hadn’t repelled that car. I couldn’t let that happen.”
Mitchell just stared at him without speaking. Lifting his chin, Riordan stared right back. He did not have to justify his actions. He’d done the right thing.
If nothing else, he’d discovered one surprise today –
He feared.
He’d thought the Altay guards had beaten fear out of him. After years of abuse, what did he have to fear knowing what to expect? That’s why he’d known he’d be a success at D.I.R.E. He feared nothing and no one.
Except losing Natalie.
Fear had taken over today, no two ways about it. It had taken charge of the situation and done what had to be done to put his body and mind at peace. That rescue had been for purely selfish reasons.
To save her.
How her living and breathing put him at peace when all they did was fight, went beyond his understanding. All he knew was that he needed her alive.
To live.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Saint.”
Tristan’s gaze shot to Riordan before looking at Mitchell. “He can handle it.”
“If anyone can handle it, Saint can,” Rose chimed in.
Giving them each a pointed glower, Mitchell stared down at the computer screen. “Bomb threat was called in promptly at 4:58pm. Natalie received the text at 5:02pm. Fire alarm went off at 5:04pm.” He looked up at Riordan. “John Warner appeared between the text and the fire alarm.”
Rose leaned on the table. “Can’t be a coincidence.”
Tristan nodded. “If John Warner wants her for her money, why would he do something like this?”
“To play the hero,” Riordan said.
Mitchell nodded. “I agree, Saint. I also think it fits because of the way Paul died.”
Rose glanced around the table. “How did he die?”
Mitchell’s gaze zeroed in on Riordan. “He killed himself by suicide bomb at a Harold Mills’ fundraiser.”
Surprise sifted through Riordan, leaving him dumbfounded. Now he knew why Mitchell had told him to take it easy on her. She didn’t want to repeat what had happened with Paul. Natalie blamed herself for his death and didn’t trust her own judgment.
Rose said, “Isn’t Mills running against Dan Meeks in the next election?”
Mitchell gave a brief nod. “Yes, he is.”
Which pointed all fingers to Dan Meeks and Warner.
“Hell…” Rose straightened away from the table.
“So, was Paul Warner some kind of devoted follower of Dan Meeks?” Tristan leaned an elbow on the table.
“Not to my knowledge,” Mitchell said. “He’d been seeing Natalie as a patient for several months. Knowing Dan Meeks, I’d have to assume Paul wasn’t good enough for his daughter.”
“So, why would Paul Warner do it?” Riordan said. “He had a beautiful woman, more money than he knew what to do with, and the potential to be a Senator’s son-in-law. He had everything going for him.”
“Maybe he had serious psychological issues,” Rose said.
Riordan didn’t buy it. “I don’t see Natalie getting involved with him if his condition was that serious.”
“I agree,” Mitchell said. “Natalie is too smart and intuitive.”
If John was capable of a bomb threat and setting a fire, he couldn’t be dismissed as a culprit. “Maybe John Warner set him up, thinking he’d inherit his money.”
Tristan chimed in. “Or, the Senator set him up to ruin Mills’ election chances.”
Or both. “Do we have forensics files on the suicide?” Riordan tipped his head toward Jaydan. “Rose can take a look at them.”
Mitchell nodded. “I can get them. Downloading those files will alert Dan Meeks. I’m sure he has them under tight security.”
Riordan braced his hands on the table. “Maybe he needs to know we’re watching him.”
“I think we’ve made that clear with your identity investigation,” Mitchell said.
“Excuse me, Riordan?”
With a knock on the door, Rachel Monroe walked into Mitchell’s office. The grin that lit Jacobs’ face made Riordan smile. Damn, the man was whipped.
The return smile she gave Jacobs proved the feeling was mutual. Lucky bastard. Rachel was a beautiful woman.
<
br /> Riordan turned to her as she approached, her eyes filled with apprehension. “Yeah, Rachel?”
“We’re ready to clean Natalie’s wounds. I thought you might want to be there.”
“Did she ask for me?” The idea made his heart light.
Rachel shook her head. “In order to get out all of the dirt and asphalt, we have to scrub the wounds with steel wool pads. It’s extremely painful. We’ll give her something local for pain, but it won’t alleviate all of it. It’s not a fun process.”
He started out the door, Rachel beside him. Just the thought of Natalie going through that pissed him off.
And, Mitchell chewed him out for saving her? If he’d had a way to take the fall for her, he would have done it.
“Thanks for coming to get me, Rachel.”
They rushed through the compound and down the medical wing hallway.
“Of course. I know I’d want Tristan there, if I were in her position.”
“I think you may have misinterpreted our relationship.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Hell, what am I saying? We aren’t even in a relationship. She was my doctor. I was her patient.”
Rachel gave him a knowing smile before she shoved open the hospital room door. “Whatever you say, Mr. St. James.”
Following her into the room, Riordan took one look at Natalie and wanted to repel and bend things.
His beautiful, delicate doctor lay on her side facing the wall, a strip of ugly, bleeding road rash marring her long, exposed leg. She wore a pale blue hospital gown, her copper hair falling in a tangled mess down her back.
Walking around the side of the bed, he dragged over a chair and sat to face her. She looked tired, her face pale with dark circles under her eyes. When she saw him, her eyes widened in her tear-stained face.
“Riordan. What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see how you were doing.”
Her pained, hazel eyes searched his gaze. “It’s going to be that bad, huh?”
She knew better than to expect sugarcoating from him. “They’ll give you a local anesthetic for the pain but yeah, it could be a little painful.”
Her rueful smile made him grin. “A little painful on whose meter – yours or mine?”
Scooting the chair closer to the bed, he took her hand in his and curled their forearms on the bed. Hers a flawless, pale flesh, his a harsh, gold and copper armband.
