Surrendered (Heart of a Warrior Series Book 3)

by Lynch, Kariss

  “Natalia, you would do well to remember that while the others are collateral damage, you are the true prize. Your friend is lucky. She isn’t dead. I can’t say the same for your condition by the end of the night.” He pulled a gun and two zip ties out of his pocket. He tossed them to his buddy and nodded to Nick. “Tie his hands in front. I want them where I can see them. Then tie up the girl. And these two”—he eyed Natalie and Kaylan—“you might as well bind them too. We don’t want them having any heroic ideas on our drive.”

  Nick didn’t so much as flinch as the man slipped the plastic over his wrists and pulled until Kaylan could distinguish a white band of skin. She didn’t have to ask him to know he was furious. His eyes raged as stormy as a hurricane despite his deadly calm expression.

  Kaylan silenced a squeal as Vlad jerked her head back. Pulling her body back against his, he placed the barrel of the gun against her forehead. His stature put his mouth right at her ear. His spit slapped against her jaw as he spoke. “It seems Miss Richards provides motivation for you to behave. You can follow my colleague out to the car. Give him no problems, and I will walk out of this house with Kaylan.” His breath burned her face as he placed a harsh kiss on her cheek. “But if you do not behave, she will never walk out of this house again.”

  Numb, Kaylan didn’t feel anything as her gaze ran over her fiancé—rage evident in the twitching muscle in his jaw, hidden beneath scruff. His gaze collided with hers. Longing swept through her for a normal life by Nick’s side. But even in this, they stood together. Protecting those they loved. Possibly dying with those they loved. She could honor him in that. She read his struggle, his instinct to protect battling with his instinct to kill those who threatened the lives of others.

  She nodded her head a fraction of an inch and watched his fists clench in response. They would get out of this.

  Or they would die together while trying.

  *

  Anya slipped through the window in the laundry room and into the hallway in time to see Vlad yank Kaylan against him and put a gun to her head. She shoved her body as close to the wall as she could and struggled to find a better angle. Nikolai stood with restrained hands, and Kaylan’s brother and pesky roommate were on the floor. And . . .

  Igor Aminev. They really had called in the kill squad. He was one of the most popular men in Eastern Europe to hire when a job needed to be completed. Vlad was merely a puppet, a kept man. Igor was brawn and brains in a deadly package.

  Anya silently swore. She needed a weapon, and she needed one now. In her last-minute decision, she hadn’t had time to stop for one let alone allow herself to second-guess what she was doing. Moving as quietly as a cat, she slipped into Kaylan’s room. The shuffling from the front told her she had little time to keep them in her sights. They were leaving, and she would have to give chase. She knelt at Kaylan’s bed and lifted the comforter. If she knew her son, he had left his fiancée a weapon somewhere. She just had to find it. She dropped the material, her eyes sweeping to the closet. Maybe.

  The conversation died in the front room. She had to hurry. Shoving clothes aside, she spotted a box. She threw open the lid. Perfect. She grabbed the pistol, loaded it, and crept to the hallway in time to hear the front door click closed. Stupid girl should have kept the gun with her at all times.

  Anya sped to the now dark front room and watched through the window as Igor shoved Natalia and Nikolai into the back seat before climbing in next to them. Meanwhile Vlad ushered Kaylan to the front seat. Keeping one eye on the window, she snagged the knife from the floor and quickly cut through Micah and Megan’s restraints. Maybe they would be helpful once they woke up. Or they might all die tonight.

  She heard the engine start up and bolted to the back door. Watching as the Suburban stopped at the end of the street, she sprinted for her car. Her breath came in harsh gasps. The rental hummed to life and she pressed the gas as hard as she dared. Up ahead, the Suburban took a right at the stop sign and headed down the road.

  Stupid. She should have boarded the plane to Mexico. This shouldn’t be her problem. But all of the reasons in the world hadn’t been enough to stop the words that had slipped from her mouth as she paid for a ticket in cash. She had boarded a plane bound for California, and she hadn’t looked back.

  They traveled several miles, Anya carefully hiding in traffic. Then they left the suburbs behind and the Suburban hit open road, driving parallel to the ocean. Silvery light cast eerie shadows from the palm trees that lined the road. Anya hung back, careful not to appear to be following. She wasn’t sure what she would do, only that she had come this far. She had to do something. Those were her . . . well, those were her something. Or they had been at one point a long time ago.

  Careful to keep the car steady, she reached into the pocket of her jeans and tugged out a stitched piece of fabric. The silvery white light illuminated the ribbed cloth, a faint smudge, and signs of age. She’d kept it in the envelope she’d given Gregor with her final alias and bank information. It was the one piece of her past she’d considered worth safeguarding. The one that made her human.

  She clenched the fabric in her fist and gripped the wheel. For once, she would do something she would not regret. She had a suitcase full of regrets. She couldn’t, wouldn’t die with one more.

  They wound through Imperial Beach, the city lights glowing orange inside her car. Finally, they pulled onto Gunpoint Drive. The road wound near the San Diego Bay Wildlife Refuge. Nothing but sand and shrubs. No other cars. Nothing. Her palms began to sweat. She glanced at the pink and blue cloth that peeked from beneath her clenched grip. Now or never.

  She accelerated and slammed the Suburban in front of her, sending both cars careening off the highway and into desert sand and undergrowth.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Nick’s knees hit the seat back and he used the car’s momentum to body slam the man in back in the seat next to him. He fought to wrap his hands around the gun. Branches scratched the undercarriage as the car slid to a halt. Natalie threw her arms around the dazed driver, her bound hands locked firmly around Vlad’s neck.

  “Kayles, get out of the car,” Nick grunted. The man flailed, yelling in Russian as Nick fought for traction. The ding of a car door opening chimed. Kaylan scrambled out the back. The passenger door flew open, and Nick tumbled out of the car, landing on the man. He rolled and jumped to his feet, his eyes frantically searching for the gun.

  “Nick!” Kaylan screamed. His legs flew out from under him. He lay on top of scraggly bush. Pressure overwhelmed his chest as the man straddled him, his thumbs locked around Nick’s neck. Black and gray swirled patterns danced over the man’s face as Nick struggled for consciousness. With a burst of energy, he jerked his bound hands into the man’s rib cage. His grip loosened enough for Nick to land another blow.

  “Enough!” Kaylan shouted. The man scrambled up, his face going slack as he eyed the gun in Kaylan’s shaky hand. Nick pulled himself to his feet, gulping in the night air. He stumbled out of the way, remembering Kaylan’s aim in paintball.

  “You won’t shoot,” the man spat, blood and spit striking the dusty ground.

  Her eyes were colder than Nick had ever seen them. “You are threatening to kill my family. You are threatening to kill me. I think you underestimate what I will do,” Kaylan hissed through clenched teeth.

  The man smirked and took a step.

  With shaking hands, she fired. The man jumped and the tire deflated with a pop as Kaylan prepared to shoot again.

  “That will be all, Miss Richards.” Vlad appeared from the driver’s seat with a bloody Natalie. Her hands were now cut free, but her nose dripped red, and her hair appeared as if she had put up a good fight. The glazed look in her eyes had Nick worried. She stumbled as Vlad prodded her with the barrel of the gun.

  “Igor, take the gun from Miss Richards, please.”

  He ripped the gun from her hands and pointed it at her chest. Kaylan sucked in a deep breath but refused to close
her eyes. Nick had never been more proud. He took a step toward her, but Natalie called out, drawing the attention of both men.

  “You wanted me.” She jerked from Vlad’s grip and slid in front of the gun, in front of Kaylan. “Take me. Leave them here.”

  Her blonde hair glowed like a halo in the moonlight. Nick glanced at the car that had hit them. He had hoped the passenger would call

  9-1-1. Where had they gone?

  Nick took another step, eyeing the gun held on his sister and fiancée. “This started with me. It can end with me. Janus never contacted Natalie. She wanted to taunt me. I’ll be enough of a prize.” He stopped next to his sister. “I’ll be your revenge card.”

  From behind Igor he sensed movement from the still open back seat of the Suburban. Before he could react, Janus flew from the backseat, more wiry and stronger than he’d given her credit for. Firing a shot that went wide, she landed in front of Igor. More shots echoed in the desert air, but Nick had no idea whose weapon discharged. He rushed forward to help. Another gunshot sounded, and Janus fell. But she’d taken Igor by surprise. Nick pressed him to the sand, his arm wrapped around his neck and back of his head. An ugly red stain spread near his stomach. He didn’t have long, but Nick wasn’t chancing it. Igor thrashed, but Nick clung tighter. Within seconds his body went limp. Nick released and flew off of him, taking in the scene around him, ready for the next fight.

  Natalie now had a gun pointed at Vlad, who was on his knees, clearly crippled when his muscle man had been disarmed. Kaylan knelt next to a woman crumpled in the sand.

  Janus.

  Nick’s legs felt like lead as he stumbled to Natalie and quickly used ties that fell out of the car in the scuffle to secure Vlad. Then he moved to Janus. She’d fought for them. She’d sacrificed for them. He fell to his knees, Natalie slumping down next to him. Tears stained his sister’s face as she looked at him, Janus’s hand gripped in hers. “Is she our mother?”

  Nick only nodded. Kaylan propped Janus’s head up on her legs, her fingers stroking back her hair.

  “You. I can’t believe you . . .”

  “Pocket,” she rasped.

  Natalie dug her fingers in one pocket then the other. She tugged loose a dirty, wrinkled piece of cloth, and gave it to Janus. As Janus folded it in her hands, Nick noticed the piece of cloth was actually two pieces stitched together—one side blue and the other pink.

  Pain ripped through him as he met her eyes. She nodded slowly, breath wheezing through her lips. She’d kept pieces of their baby blankets all these years. He swallowed the growing lump in his throat and surveyed the damage. Blood poured from a wound in her side. He wasn’t sure what had been hit, only that she wouldn’t make it.

  Anya lifted both hands, resting them on Nick and Natalie’s faces. The cloth rubbed against Nick’s cheek. Tears welled up unbidden. This woman who had killed so many had spent her last moments to save children she’d given up years earlier. Yet, she’d kept a piece of them. In her final moments, she’d tried to make it right.

  Anger and guilt ripped through him, stronger than any pain. How did he look at a woman he had hunted to kill and see his mother, his blood? Red trickled from her mouth, but her lips twisted in a smile. Her eyes were clear. Clear blue. Unmasked. As she gazed up at him and Natalie, he saw adoration.

  “My babies,” she croaked in Russian. A tear trickled down her cheek. “Look at what you have become.” Before he could stop himself, Nick covered her hand with his own. He could feel the life draining from her. She looked small, fragile, vulnerable.

  “What did she say?” Natalie asked, choking back a sob.

  “She called us her babies.”

  Nick focused on Anya, her glassy blue eyes, the way she couldn’t stop looking at Nick and Natalie, that she hadn’t taken her eyes from them since they appeared at her side.

  She was dying. For him. For Natalie. She’d come when she could have run. The last pieces of anger fell from his heart, and emotions crashed over him like a wave. This woman lying bleeding before him didn’t deserve his forgiveness. But he could give it. She’d sacrificed, her dying act one of selflessness. He could be brave. Forgiving her would take every ounce of courage he had. It battled common sense, but it was right.

  Every muscle in his body fought as he leaned over the woman before him. He smoothed her hair and brushed his lips against her cooling forehead. “My mother,” he murmured in Russian. A tear trickled down his cheek and landed in her hair.

  He felt the breath leave her body as she sighed. “Andrei,” he heard before the light faded from her eyes, eyes no longer cold, but at peace. She was gone.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  White lights cast a hazy glow in the setting California sun. Mason jars danced in the trees, each with a tiny lit candle inside, daring the wind to snuff the dim glow. Kaylan’s breath caught as she stepped onto Nick’s back porch and surveyed the scene for their rehearsal dinner.

  “Do you like it?” Nick’s voice drifted on the breeze as he stepped from the shadow of the tree in the corner of the yard. With one quick breath, he extinguished the flame dancing on the end of a lighter.

  Kaylan stepped into the grass, the leaves tracing a silky trail on her sandaled feet as she approached Nick. “It’s gorgeous. Y’all didn’t have to do all this.” She shook her head, taking in the picnic tables waiting for her family and the wedding party. They’d rehearsed earlier in the afternoon and then took a break. Now Kaylan knew why.

  She came to a stop in front of him. His hands settled on the small of her waist, pulling her closer to him, and she rested her hands on his chest, feeling the cotton t-shirt soft beneath her palms. “You outdid yourself.” She finally met his eyes and her breath caught. The smoky blue danced in the firelight, his defenses completely down.

  “You deserve it. After the last few months of putting up with all this.” He rested his head on hers, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her lower back. Chills raced up and down her spine despite the warm night. She tried to focus, pushing away from him a bit.

  “It’s part of the deal, right?” She snaked her arms up around his neck, burying her fingers in his sandy blonde hair. “I marry the man, his God, and his country. It’s a total package.” She smiled up at him, the stress of the past months bleeding away in the safety of his arms. It had been four weeks since the events of that fateful night. Four weeks of resting and processing the news of Nick’s family and reclaiming peace now that the personal vendetta had finally come to an end.

  “You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?”

  She smiled and ran her fingers over the worry lines now crinkling his forehead. She couldn’t hide anything from him anymore. “I am, but not in the way you might think. It seems like a dream.” Her gaze drifted to the twinkling trees again as she tried to explain.

  Nick’s calloused fingers brushed her cheek and gently tilted her chin. “Does it scare you? That it could happen again. Does it make you second-guess us?”

  Kaylan slipped her arms around his waist and met his anxious gaze. “Nick Carmichael, I love you with all my heart. I think we have seen the end of this. I know other things will come, but we’ll handle them.” She traced lazy patterns on his back and felt him shudder and pull her closer. “Does it scare you?”

  He wrapped an arm around her waist, threaded their fingers together, and began to sway with her, their steps drifting under the tree. Kaylan leaned into him, letting him think, loving the quiet moment. Country music drifted from the porch, and Kaylan grinned as David stepped away from the iPod speaker and slipped back into the house.

  “I like your family.”

  She could feel the rumble of emotion in his chest and laid her head on his shoulder as she followed his lead. “They like you, too. I think I’ll share starting tomorrow.” She felt his smile without seeing it as his grip tightened on her waist—protective, possessive, almost desperate.

  “You aren’t going to lose me, you know. You haven’t scared me off yet.
”

  He chuckled. She felt the brush of a kiss on her forehead, and shivered. How could she not feel safe and treasured with this man? “You didn’t answer my question, Nick. Talk to me.”

  She could practically hear his racing thoughts. He stopped and led her over to a bench framing one of the wooden picnic tables they had rented for the night. He settled them and reached for her hands, his thumb brushing over the back. Finally, his eyes found hers. She could see the storm swirling within the blue-gray—confidence and uncertainty fighting for prominence.

  “You’ve said you’re scared to lose me, but truth is, I’m terrified you’ll lose me, too. I’m terrified that I will miss big moments with you or our kids. I’m terrified that I won’t be here when you need me. I’m terrified . . . that you’ll change your mind before tomorrow.” His voice dropped to a gruff whisper.

  Kaylan’s heart ripped as Nick acknowledged his fear. She framed his face with her hands, her fingers gripping his cheeks. “You listen to me, Nick Carmichael. I can’t let my fear dictate my actions. I have in the past, and the only thing it jeopardized was our relationship. I don’t want to live in fear. I want to live for a bigger purpose. I want to live with you.”

  He leaned into her touch. “That's why I exist, Kayles, to answer a bigger call—one few want to answer—whether it's for my God or my country. Are you ready to answer with me? This is your last chance to back out, babe.” He chuckled but she heard the nerves.

  “And here I thought you would be the one with cold feet.” She watched the fog dissipate as his laughter filled the backyard.

  “No cold feet. I’m ready.” He stood and held out his hand. “Are you ready to do this with me?”

  Emotion swelled in Kaylan, ripping through her. How could she not respond to this, a call to serve a God who had already overcome her fear, a call to love a man who trusted God enough to let his faith drown out his fear? She placed her hand in his, stood, and slipped into his waiting arms. “Together. I'm ready.”