Captive Heart

by Mina Carter

  “No, it wasn’t you, but you sure as hell are part of it.” she snarled as she struggled to get loose. The arm lock he had her in was effective and painful, but she ignored the pain and kept struggling, all she wanted to do was land a good punch on his face. Marie’s death, her ordeal, the kiss…it was all too much.

  She broke down and cried. “Why?” she wailed. “She wasn’t a threat to anyone. She didn’t know anything. Oh my God. It was all me. It was my fault,” she said, realizing the implications. “She died because of me.”

  She’d sagged against him, her body racked with sobs. Forcing her to stand upright, he turned her around and slid gentle fingers under her chin to make her look up at him.

  “Rollie, look at me. I had nothing to do with that, I promise you,” he said, his voice urgent. “I need you to pull yourself together.” He looked up, sharp gaze narrowing on the window. “We have company, and I don’t think they’re here to borrow a cup of sugar.”

  It took Rollie a few more seconds to snap out of it and understand what he was saying. An experienced soldier she wasn’t. She hadn’t noticed anything wrong. However, the self-preservation programming innate in every human kicked in, and she recognized the tension in his body.

  But why should she trust him? The company he was referring to could be the police or the FBI coming to her rescue.

  Before she could say or do anything else, the windows in the far wall exploded, sending glass and wooden splinters flying all over the place.

  Chapter Four

  Day wrapped her into his arms, shielding her with his larger body. The sound of the explosion had barely finished, and he was moving. The black-swathed figures that clambered through the ruined windows were obviously not friendly as small red dots and faint dancing beams pierced the dust in the room. They settled on her shoulder for a second, shocking her into motionlessness, before he shoved her out the way, kicking the fridge door open as meager cover as bullets began flying.

  Within a heartbeat, his weapon was in his hand. He pulled the trigger, the gun seeming like an extension of his being. Methodically, he cut them down before the dust could fully clear, then he turned to her where she crouched behind the refrigerator door.

  He spun the gun in his hand and offered it to her grip first from his open hand. “I presume they at least put you through basic range drill?”

  Rollie was genuinely shocked, even more than she had been by the flash grenades. He was giving her his weapon? And how the hell did he know she knew how to shoot? The men he had killed wore civvies and looked meaner than the offensive line of a losing football team. They obviously weren’t cops or FBI. These guys were killers.

  This wasn’t the time to contemplate. Not asking any more questions, she took the gun and positioned herself behind one of the thick oak pillars running down the center of the cabin as she’d been taught.

  Once in a while, when she didn’t think of engineering or physics, she’d contemplate her personal philosophy. Would she be able to take a life even if her own was on the line? If the time came, would she be able to stab a man with a knife or shoot one with a gun? She didn’t come up with any clear answers then. But as the front door caved in and a mean-looking ogre with an M16 started shooting the second he stepped past the threshold, she got her answer.

  One shot. Then another. And another. It all seemed to go in slow motion. She could see the expression on his face as the bullets struck him first in the arm, then in the chest. She didn’t think she’d ever seen such a sickening expression of pain and torment, and a realization that one’s life was coming to an end. It seemed to go on forever as the man fell to the ground, his assault rifle still firing in his hands as his death grip held onto the trigger. Within seconds, the magazine had fired its last round.

  ***

  She could shoot. Like, seriously shoot. Surprise held Day spellbound for a second or two, but then his training kicked in. He scooped the nearest weapon up, dropped from a rapidly cooling hand, and checked the magazine. Full. He grunted as he slapped it back into place.

  “Bag, under the counter next to you,” he ordered her, keeping his voice brisk. He didn’t spare the bodies on the floor another glance as he approached the door carefully to check outside. “And ditch the white top. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb out there.”

  At first she nodded dumbly at his command, picking up the bag as she quickly followed him, but his next words made her stop in her tracks.

  “You want me to do what?” she asked incredulously. “I don’t want go topless out there, and this isn’t the time to be pulling this sort of crap, you horny bastard.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Day closed his eyes for a second, leaning his head back against the wall. He lifted his head up and looked at her sharply. “Look, you daft female, these guys aren’t it. There’s going to be more of them out there, and chances are they’ve got the road covered. So we’re going to have to go across country, through woodland. You go out there wearing that and you may as well wave a damn flag saying, ‘come get me.’”

  She opened her mouth then snapped it closed as if she couldn’t find a retort. Instead, she turned to rummage through a closet and pulled on a dark jacket. It was too big for her, but it would do the job well. She zipped it up to her neck and rolled the sleeves twice. Once again he realized just how much bigger he was than her.

  “Does this work?” she grumbled like a petulant child seeking approval.

  “Better,” he rumbled, sparing her another short glance before turning his attention back to the scene outside. All was quiet, but he knew better than to rely on that. Even now, they were probably moving into position for a second assault. It didn’t help that she looked cute as all hell wearing his jacket. Like a kid playing dress-up.

  A kid with curves in all the right places.

  He clamped down on that thought. He needed all his wits about him. “How fast can you run in those things?” He flicked a glance down at her feet, clad in the ridiculously heeled boots. She could roll the sleeves up on his jacket and make fit, but footwear was a different matter.

  “But these are Prada,” she protested, but obviously relenting to practicality, she sat down and discarded the boots. Besides, they looked hopelessly ruined from their trekking earlier and her attempt to escape.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have size six and a half boots around here somewhere would you?” she asked him, hope in her tone.

  He shook his head. “Not into women’s fashion. You’ll have to go as you are. When I say three, you hit the ground running and don’t stop. You got me? See that fallen log? Head for that and into the woods. Keep going. I’ll catch up.”

  ***

  Rollie shook her head. She’d have to go barefoot, which would be hell but a whole lot better than trekking in wilderness with high heels. Breaking an ankle because of a stiletto wasn’t exactly a good thing while trying to get away from a bunch of killers. “What if they’re waiting for us out there?” she asked, hesitating.

  A muscle in his jaw jumped, his gaze scanning the surroundings again. Not idly, she realized, but there seemed to be a specific pattern to it. As though he was trying to catch movement out the corner of his eye.

  “They will be. You let me deal with that. You keep running, and if anyone tries to stop you, you shoot them. Understand?” he asked, holding his hand out for the backpack.

  She had to trust him. She had no other choice. She handed over the backpack. After a deep breath, silent words of self-motivation, and a quiet prayer heavenward, she positioned herself by the door and calculated the time it would take her to reach the log and then disappear into the woods.

  She’d gone camping before, so she wasn’t a stranger to the wilderness. But then again, she hadn’t been on the run from ruthless ogres trying their best to kill her. And right now, the very forest she was about to head was most likely teeming with a bunch of them.

  He pulled the backpack over his shoulder and switched the rifle from one hand to the other i
n a motion that spoke of long practice. Finally, he looked at her. “Okay, on three. One…two…three!”

  He burst out of the ruined doorway, using his bigger body to shield her.

  “Go,” he bellowed as bullets splintered the wooden wall that they’d been standing against seconds before. She cringed at the sound of the gunfire but instinct, adrenaline, and years upon years of conditioning from her workouts got her to the log faster than she thought she could. Staying low, she was very aware that her captor-turned-bodyguard seemed to have gone through this before. For a moment, she felt sorry for him, while at the same time she felt a sense of admiration. How could someone consider this sort of life as a normal existence?

  While he attacked their unseen enemy, she took the time to gather her courage again. After a few more breaths and some moments of hesitation, she ducked low and ran as fast as she could into the forest. Rocks and twigs prodded her soles. It would have been painful, but she couldn’t feel them anymore. Her blood seemed had been replaced by adrenaline.

  He caught up with her what seemed like hours later, the woods behind them falling silent. “Keep moving,” he ordered, his hand sliding under her arm to hurry her along the path. “That’s put them down for a while, but I don’t think I got the lot.”

  “Looks like your friends were trying to tell you that your employer doesn’t like you,” said Rollie as she moved as fast as she could while watching her step.

  “If one of my friends wanted me dead, I’d be dead, and so would you,” he told her bluntly. “No, far more likely they found something out that means they want you dead now, not just disappeared for a while. Keep moving.” He motioned her on when she started to slow down.

  “Who would want me dead?” she asked in disbelief. “No one even knows me enough to hate me, and what could anyone possibly gain from wanting to kill me? Who sent you? Why does your boss want me kidnapped and then killed?”

  “I’m a subcontractor, honey. I took on the kidnap job. It’s possible they then sourced someone for a hit.”

  She would have pointed out to him that he didn’t answer her question, but decided to shut up. She could always grill him later. Save for the chirping of crickets and the occasional hoots from owls, it was pretty quiet, and she was smart enough to know that it was advisable not to attract attention when trying to hide from someone.

  Every now and then, she would bite off a curse or recoil as she stepped on something sharp. The forest floor wasn’t too kind to her pampered feet, and as soon as they got to civilization, the first thing she’d get was a decent pair of sneakers. The blood roared in her head and over the deafening silence. She felt like every beat of her rapid heart was being broadcast all over the forest like a drummer with a timpani. The air was cold, and if it hadn’t been for his jacket, she would have frozen to death. The solid steel pistol in her hand felt heavy but for some reason she couldn’t—wouldn’t—let go of it.

  She knew that the fact that she killed a man just a while earlier would come to haunt her, and she dreaded it.

  ***

  They were moving at a fast pace now but Day wasn’t unaware of her little winces each time she stepped on something. And for some reason, he felt guilty each time she did, as though it were his fault she’d worn such bloody unsuitable shoes and had to take them off. He put his hand on her arm to stop her as they reached a kink in the path, sinking into a kneeling position out of habit as he listened to the sounds of the forest around them.

  After long seconds, he nodded. “I’ve got a truck hidden in an outbuilding up ahead,” he said, his voice a mere whisper as he looked at her. She looked scared to death, and he attempted a smile. “We’ll get out of this. I promise.”

  What made him say that, and give that assurance, he didn’t know. He didn’t do nice. It just wasn’t in him. So why now?

  She was panting, and her teeth were chattering. She was scared, and he recognized the signs of shock setting in. He was reasonably sure they were being followed, silently stalked. As soon as someone got a bead on them, they were toast. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe his contract with his employers would protect him.

  There had been no way they were getting to her in the labs, so they’d needed an extraction specialist. Him. No doubt, they’d hired him to get her out of the labs, and they’d planned this all along. He hissed in annoyance with himself for not spotting it as he carried on down the path, his hand holding hers firmly. Games within games. There was nothing he hated more than games.

  He paused for an instant as the conditions underfoot deteriorated. Last night’s rain had turned the path to mud. Without a word, he turned and swung her into his arms. She stifled a gasp as he clomped through the muck at a speed that defied the fact he was carrying a full-grown woman in his arms with little effort.

  She looked down at the mud, then back at his face. “I’m making you sink,” she whispered as she kept glancing behind them.

  He grimaced as the water seeped over the top of his boots. “Don’t argue, or I might decide it’s a bad idea and drop you in the middle of all this,” he warned, although he wouldn’t do it. Just like he wasn’t going to leave her here and run, even though it would save his own ass. They wanted her, not him.

  But he wasn’t going to let that happen. The job had been to kidnap her and return her to civilization after the conference, not cold-blooded murder. Besides, even if he did cut and run, he knew too much. They wouldn’t stop looking for him, and he didn’t much fancy hiding out somewhere in the back end of beyond for the rest of his life to avoid them.

  “I’ll survive. Been in worse conditions.” He dropped her lightly onto her feet as the path cleared up, urging her into a run ahead of him. The dilapidated outbuilding was in sight just up ahead. “Just a little farther, and we’re out of here.”

  She ran as soon as she saw the building. The next stop was the truck and then back to civilization. But running toward the door, she didn’t see the burly goon hiding in the shadows behind a tree until he moved. In slow motion, he watched the butt of the rifle headed right for her face. She instinctively moved her arms up to protect herself, but it was too late, and the rifle struck her temple with a muffled thud.

  Day swore viciously as she dropped like a rag doll. They must have cased the area and found his equipment stashes. He’d set the area up in case he needed to leave quickly. In addition to this one, there were four other locations with everything from a simple rucksack of equipment right up to one with a dirt bike. Obviously, they’d decided to hedge their bets and put a goon here in case he and Rollie managed to evade the main group.

  Clever, but not clever enough. Day moved like lightening, getting inside the guy’s reach in an instant. He twisted, his fist contacting the goon’s jaw in a vicious uppercut that had him staggering. Day didn’t give him time to recover, throwing a heavy right hook. It connected with a meaty crunch, then the hard blade of Day’s elbow smashed into the same spot. The goon dropped, groaning incoherently.

  Day picked up Rollie’s SIG, which was loose in her hand, and pointed it at the semi-conscious man. He should shoot. Never leave an enemy behind you. Something stopped him, though.

  “Gah.” Disgusted with himself, he tucked the pistol into the back of his jeans and bent down to pick her up.

  It took only minutes to bundle the unconscious woman into the passenger seat of the truck hidden in the dilapidated shed, and then Day was gunning the engine, crashing through the rotten main doors, and throwing the truck down the dirt trail as fast as he could.

  Shots rang out behind them, but he kept going, watching the gauges on his dashboard. Last thing he needed was for a bullet to have nicked the gas line or worse, a brake line. But everything seemed to be in working order, and before long, he was sliding the truck out sideways onto the highway.

  Two hours later, he was still on the road, constantly scanning the view in his mirror. No one appeared to be following them. He sighed and slowed a little, rubbing the back of his neck in exhaustion.
They were going to need to stop for gas soon, and he needed to check Rollie out.

  His gaze slid sideways, running over her profile as she lay in the passenger seat. She had stirred a couple of times, and her breathing was nice and regular, so he didn’t think she was badly injured. A quick examination of the rapidly darkening bruise had alleviated some of Day’s concerns. Probably just a concussion. Ordinarily, he’d have taken her to a hospital, but if their pursuers caught up with them, a concussion would be the least of her worries.

  His eyes watered, burning with tiredness as he tried to blink them clear. Okay, forget the gas; he needed to stop for a while. Just a power nap. Fifteen minutes, tops, and he’d be good to go. Exhaustion pulled at every muscle in his body as he turned the battered truck off the road at the next rest stop, heading to park up behind the service buildings so he could shut his eyes for a few minutes.

  Chapter Five

  There was someone in the room with him, his sleep muffled senses told him. Someone not only in the room but also close to him. Well within striking range. His eyes opened on the dimly lit room, a frown already forming on his face. He never slept with a light on, preferring the sanctity of darkness. And that wasn’t all that was wrong. His gaze collided with that of the woman standing at the side of the bed, looking down at him.

  He swallowed, struggling to sit up. Black lingerie. The raciest black lingerie he’d ever seen. Breasts barely contained in black lace, threatening to burst free with every breath, coupled with stockings, garters, and the tiniest scrap of lace at the vee of her thighs.

  His eyes widened. He was unable to stop his gaze as it traveled down mile-long legs encased in black silk. And stilettos. He groaned. Killer stilettos that did things to her legs that were—had to be—illegal. Arousal, instant and demanding, hit him like a truck at mach one, his body at instant attention.