by Honey Jans
"Where's your partner?” Rick Hernandez, extraction team commander asked, stepping forward.
Condor winced at the team leader's question. “Taken by force, but still in the compound."
"We'll go get her,” he turned to his crew. Rick looked at Condor's sodden clothes and scraped arms. “I'll call in EMS for you."
"Negative,” Condor said, brushing off the other man's concern. “I'm leading this mission. I'll take point. Let's go, gentlemen.” He turned to lead the force on a quick pace through the jungle. Lights and music poolside showed that there was another party raging. A quick look showed that Lola did not attend. It explained her hurry to get him on the boat. She was in on Bridget's capture. A look at the blip on his diver's watch led him past their bungalow and directly to Perez's double bungalow. He arched a startled brow, surprised they'd taken her to such an obvious place, and pointed to his watch. Two minutes to midnight.
Chapter 14
Bridget came to semi-consciousness, her head throbbing, and her mouth dry and cottony. She was lying atop a bed, naked she realized, as she sank into the mattress. She had to get to Condor; had to warn him. She tried to move her leaden arms, and could barely do it. Good grief, what kind of potent narcotic had Lola given her? She wrinkled her nose as the woman's strong perfume came to her. The bitch was here somewhere. “Lola,” she managed to croak, opening her bleary eyes to look around. The bitch was standing by the wet bar drinking again. Liquid courage.
A glance at the window showed her that it was late evening, and Condor hadn't come to her rescue. Her heart twisted. He wasn't dead, couldn't be. She'd be able to feel it. But he could be hurt. She'd just have to rescue him, instead. She forced herself to move, and this time she managed to prop herself up on the headboard. “What the fuck did you give me?” she grumbled, finally snagging Lola's attention away from the bottle.
"Wants some more?” Lola asked darkly, her words slurring a little.
"No please,” Bridget said, softening her tone, she had to stay awake to be effective.
"Then shut the fuck up."
Bridget bit her lip to keep from snapping back at her. Lola was no easy target, but James was a different story. “Where's James?"
"Out taking care of some loose ends,” Lola said, with a mean smile.
Bridget closed her eyes, knowing instinctively what she meant. He was trying to kill Condor. Rage surged through her, energizing her, and she moved her legs testing their strength. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said, noting Lola wrinkling her nose.
"Tough."
A sound made Bridget look at the adjoining door. Perez walked into the room dressed in silk pajamas. It confirmed their Intel that he went to bed early. “Why are you making so much noise?” he snapped, then turned to look at Bridget, his gaze turning sultry as he ogled her nudity. “Good, she's awake."
Lola nodded. “I told you I didn't give her too much, Master."
His gaze darkened as he crossed the floor and slapped her, muttering, “No back talk."
Lola whimpered, closing her eyes, her head snapping back. “Sorry,” she said, then kissed his hand.
Bridget watched it all bemused as strength came back to her limbs. A look at the clock on the wall told her it was almost over. She just had to keep them talking. “Good, why don't you kick her ass some more?” Bridget interjected, making them both look at her. “By the way, I still need to go to the bathroom."
"So go,” Perez said.
"I can't. It's kind of hard to move doped up like I am."
He frowned at Lola, muttering, “See to it,” and stormed back into the other room, slamming the door behind him.
Lola scowled, storming to her. “I'll teach you to give me trouble."
When she reached for her, Bridget sprang. She caught Lola by surprise and landed a sucker punch that sent the other woman reeling, decking her. Bridget glanced at the clock. There were only seconds to spare before the charges went off. Where is Condor? Somehow, she felt he was all right. He was too strong for James to stop. She rushed toward the connecting door to take down Perez when the charges went off. The concussion threw her off-balance against the bed.
* * * *
Condor kicked in the door to Bungalow Twelve just after the first charge went off. Silently he saw the retrieval team filter in, a lethal three-man squad. Lola and Bridget were on the ground, both naked.
"What the hell?” Perez tore through the connecting door, gun drawn. His eyes widened when he caught sight of Condor.
Condor went into a three-point stance and took him down, firing a special knock-out dart at him. The terrorist let out a shocked gurgle and fell face forward. The roar of gunfire behind Condor made him spin toward Bridget.
Bridget let out a cry, her arm bleeding profusely, as she took down Lola, knocking the weapon out of her hand, then sitting on her back.
Condor's heart went cold as he saw the blood soaking Bridget's arm; his first instinct was to tend to her. The militant expression she gave him made him hesitate. Taking Lola down meant a lot to her. He pulled his handcuffs off his belt, and handed them to her, knowing she needed this, and watched her cuff Lola. The squad was doing the same to Perez and his people. Condor barely took any notice watching Bridget; his heart in his throat, because she was bleeding badly. He grimaced, helping her rise, uncaring of a sobbing, cursing Lola on the floor. One nod from him and the squad gagged her and lifted her to her feet. Condor pulled Bridget into his arms, took off his shirt, and put it on her. “Can you walk?"
She nodded, pushing back to prove that she could stand on her own two feet and wobbled. He admired her strength all over again. What a woman, but it was his fault that she was wounded.
"Let's move,” he ordered, ushering the team out. They swept out the back door and made for the west wall just as another charge went off. They froze as guards rushed in the opposite direction as planned, and then went on their way.
As he'd anticipated, the service entrance was unguarded and they slipped through unnoticed. They hopped into the SUVs; the squad and prisoners in one, he and Bridget in another, and sped to the airstrip. The jet was idling, waiting for them. Condor pulled in first and got out, running around the SUV to help Bridget out. She climbed out and her knees buckled. He swore and caught her, his heart clenching. She couldn't die.
"Easy, love,” he said, picking her up. He held her close to his chest as he watched the prisoners load onto the jet, and then rushed up the stairs with Bridget in his arms. “Get us in the air,” he ordered, going back to the bedroom. He laid Bridget on the bed, his gut twisting when he saw how much she'd bled.
Bridget's eyes swept open. “We made it, cowboy."
"Uh huh,” he said, his jaw tightening. “You were magnificent.” He unbuttoned her shirt and peeled it back, muttering curses when she let out an involuntary whimper as he peeled the garment back from her wound.
"I wrecked your shirt,” she said sadly, as he tossed it down on the foot of the bed.
"Don't worry about it, love.” He took a clean compress and held it on the wound, having to apply a pressure that made her wince. He sat on the edge of the bed whispering soothing noises as he stemmed the bleeding. After about ten minutes, he pulled the compress back, satisfied to note only a trickle. He cleaned the wound and patched her up. It was the best he could do and it wasn't good enough.
"You need to sleep,” he said, catching her watching him.
"I'm not tired,” she said, and yawned.
"Liar,” he said gently.
"Why are you acting so standoffish?” she demanded.
"You're hurt, and need your rest."
"It wasn't your fault,” she said.
"Right,” he said.
She inched over. “I'll sleep better if you hold me."
He knew it was a trap, but he went into it anyway, another chance to hold Bridget was too good to pass up. He got into bed beside her, leaning back against the headboard and she let out a sigh, lying against him. After a few moments he
heard gentle snoring, and smiled sadly, clutching her to him. He didn't want to let her go, but he knew that he had to. There was no happily ever after for them, he'd always known that. Still he'd linger close to her fire until they touched down.
Chapter 15
Silence woke Bridget. Instantly awake, she listened. The plane had landed, and Condor was gone. She knew it without even looking around. She rolled over on the hard bed and moaned, as the gunshot wound on her arm rubbed against the mattress. It all came back in a rush. The take down, her gunshot, and then the tender and efficient way Condor had patched her up back on the plane. She hadn't missed his self-blame, or his attempts to distance himself. He'd held her while she'd slept and now he was gone.
Swallowing the lump that came to her throat at the painful thought, she sat up, throwing the covers off her nude body. It was then that she noticed she wasn't wearing his slave bracelet anymore. How had he removed it without waking her? Her suit was neatly laid out at the foot of the bed. The supposed kryptonite against male attention she'd employed at the start of this life-changing week. She wasn't the same buttoned-up woman anymore and Condor was responsible.
She noticed a hibiscus blossom on the bedside table. It was from one of the bushes surrounding The Retreat. Condor's doing of course, the romantic and final gesture bespoke his determination to give her space. She picked it up, sniffed it, and smiled through her tears. She spied his shirt peeking out from under the covers and pulled it out, recalling when he'd wrapped it around her as they were extricated from the club. She slipped into it, forgoing her bra. After a week spent semi-nude, the idea of putting the binding garment on was abhorrent. The blue rayon shirt hung down to her knees.
Condor's personal scent clung to it and she took a deep whiff, feeling comforted. She buttoned it up, slipped on her panties, skirt, and shoes, and walked out of the cabin, leaving her jacket and bra behind. The dowdy garments were part of her past she didn't need to hide behind anymore. Walking through the silent jet, she noticed that it was empty, Condor's bags gone, confirming her assumption that he'd left her. She pulled open the hatch door.
Flight officer Eric Hughes was standing guard like a sentry down below. At least her runaway Dom had left her well guarded. She winced when the copilot flashed a worried look up at her. She didn't look that bad, aside from the bandage on her arm, did she?
"Maybe you'd better go back and lie down ma'am. We've got a med tech team en route."
"I'm okay,” she hurried to assure him as she watched a Delta med tech van pull up. Black, with dark tinted windows, she knew it was better equipped than the best critical care ambulance, but it really wasn't necessary. She watched the EMTs climb out of the van appalled.
"There's your patient,” Hughes said, pointing up at her, ignoring her repressive scowl. “Gunshot would, field dressed, and possible shock."
Irritated at them discussing her like she wasn't there, she quickly climbed down the ladder, aware of Hughes’ concerned look. “When did Condor leave?"
"About ten minutes ago, ma'am. He told us to get the medics and stand guard."
She was well aware of the speculative looks but she didn't care. She was female, in love with her Dom, and freshly dumped; it was a lot to assimilate.
One of the medics stepped forward. “Agent Jones. Hop in and we'll treat you on the fly,” the medic insisted.
His words snapped her out of her brooding state. She had a mission to finish before she surrendered to her personal feelings. With a renewed sense of purpose, she climbed into the back of the van, rolled up her sleeve, and let them get to work. They removed Condor's makeshift bandage; the wound was bloody, but not infected. When they patched her up, she barely flinched, already feeling numb.
When they arrived at headquarters, she climbed out of the van under her own steam, and went to debriefing. Striding past her cubicle, something out of place caught her peripheral vision, and she skidded to a halt. A beautiful bouquet of exotic blooms sat on her desk. Hope bloomed inside her. Maybe Condor is still here. She bent to smell a flower's sweet aroma as she picked up the card. She tore it open, noticing his impatient scrawl.
Goodbye, love, Condors fly alone.
He was giving her space to go back to her real life and she didn't want to. No damned way would she let him go! Safe and steady wasn't enough anymore. She hadn't missed his distress and self-recrimination when she'd been wounded last night in the line of duty. He blamed himself. Ever the Dom, he was trying to control the situation, but she couldn't allow it. She cared enough to fight.
Pocketing the card, she changed directions and headed directly to Frost's office. Agency formalities be damned, she had to know Condor's location. She stepped into the outer-office and Thelma's speculative gaze lingered on her. It was a replay of a week ago. Only now, she was supremely confident. “I need to see him."
Thelma arched a surprised brow. “You may go in,” she said, buzzing her in.
She didn't miss the mysterious smile on her mentor's face, but didn't have time to dwell on it. She had a Dom to track. Nodding, she breezed into the director's office and shut the door behind her. Frost was watching her from the throne behind his desk. She was startled to have his full attention for once, and it put her off her task for a second as she looked back at him. She could swear she saw concern and regret in his frosty gaze. Did he know about them, that she and Condor had broken the non-fraternization rule? Good, then she could cut to the chase. “Where is..."
"Sit,” he said, indicating a chair.
She sank into it disgruntled, vividly reminded of the shocking day she'd met Condor here. She really didn't have time for office politics.
"I want to commend you on your excellent work on the Perez case."
She absorbed the words of praise, gratified on behalf of her entire team. Condor, who'd actually done the lion's share and the extraction team who got them all out alive. “Thank you, sir, it was a team effort. May I ask how the interrogation is going?"
"Perez and his lieutenants aren't talking, but his organization is crippled."
"And Mistress Lola?"
"Has proved to be a fount of information. We're offering her a deal in exchange for her cooperation."
The news didn't surprise her; Lola was the mercenary sort, and she'd go where the odds were in her favor. “Good.” She savored the feeling for a moment, looking back at Frost. “Where did Condor go?"
"He requested time off to finish his vacation."
At least he wasn't on assignment with another female. “Then you saw him."
"Briefly.” Frost gave his executive toy a spin, gazing speculatively over the spinning circles, he added, “He did however, recommend you for an award for valor before he left."
"Yippee,” she muttered darkly. She wouldn't be palmed off with an award or a promotion. She wanted her man. “Where did he go?"
"He didn't say."
Damn, another brick wall. Frost's normally icy gaze was actually warm with understanding. She could hardly believe it. Who would have thought the director had a heart? The way he'd brought Condor and her together, was it possible that he'd been matchmaking all this time? Why? It might cost him two top agents. But it could put together an unbeatable team.
Frost shrugged. “You're off on medical leave. It should give you time to track him down."
He was matchmaking, the Frosty Cupid! “You don't mind?"
"Honey, you're the best thing that ever happened to him. Now scat."
On that note, she tore back down to her office and set to work. Using Condor's credit card trail, she managed to track him to a hotel in South Carolina. He certainly hadn't made any effort to cover his tracks. It gave her hope that he wanted to be found.
She picked up a phone and called in a favor. “Eric, can you give me a lift to the outer banks?” Then she called Dangerous Liaisons. “Cecilia. Condor's partner, Bridget, here, I'd like to pick up one of his special bundles, but add a few extra items. You know those rubber chickens..."
; Three hours later, she walked up to the Breaker's. Condor's black Harley was parked in a slot out front. She'd already ascertained which room he occupied, now all she had to do was enact her plan. With her bundle of tricks in a duffle bag, and carrying a rubber chicken, she walked through the lobby and slipped into the elevator.
Standing outside his door on the fifth floor, she felt nervous, but managed to keep her knees from wobbling by sheer willpower. She knocked on the door. It was drawn open and she held her breath when she looked at Condor. Yummy as always, he looked both startled and amused. She looked past him to his half-eaten room service dinner inside the dark room. It didn't add up to a wild vacation. Her smile tremulous, she handed him the rubber chicken. “This is what happens to condors that fly alone, pal. They get limp and set in their ways."
Condor cracked a little smile. “You don't say?"
"I do,” she said, reaching in her pocket for the matching slave bracelet. “I'm tagging you.” She looked up at him wavering. “Do you mind?"
He reached out and pulled her into the room saying. “Let me show you how much I mind."
As Condor claimed her in a burning kiss, she felt his slave bracelet encircle her wrist and decided she was home. She started to put the matching band on his wrist and he held still for her to do it. Once she had it clicked into place, he picked her up and carried her to the sofa, settling down with her on his lap.
He looked at her backpack, the Dangerous Liaisons shopping bag peeking out. “Is that what I think it is?"
"Yup, I'm going to tie you up and make love to you. Any objections?"
He chuckled and nuzzled her nape. “Not as long as I get to be on top some of the time."
"I wouldn't have it any other way,” she said, feeling his cock rousing under her bottom, his knowing hand caressing her breast. She ached to have him possess her.
