The Exit Strategy Bundle

by Jocelynn Drake

  He had just settled into position behind the van when he heard the back door open followed by a squeaky screen door. The hinge whined and howled, the horrible sound echoing through the overwhelming silence. The man muttered to himself in the cold, but he wasn’t speaking German. No, he was cursing the cold in Russian. Justin grinned again. It was definitely looking like he was in the right place.

  Justin peeked out around the van, holding his breath to keep it from fogging in front of him and potentially catching the attention of the guard. There was only one pale light shining on the rear of the house, but white snow seemed to glow in the starlight, beating back some of the night. He hesitated. Was he completely sure this man held Gabriel? Maybe he should attempt to knock him out. At least until Justin got inside and better assessed the situation.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  The man was carrying a machine gun and walking rounds in the middle of the night. An innocent person didn’t do those kinds of things. He was expecting trouble. Fine. If Gabriel wasn’t inside, then maybe Justin would have succeeded in taking out some drug dealers or sex traffickers. There were worse ways to spend his evening. Justin wasn’t used to acting without completing his own reconnaissance on a job. It soothed his conscience before he did anything that he couldn’t undo.

  But Gabriel’s life hung in the balance. There wasn’t time for doubt; he had to trust Marilyn and her contacts.

  As the guard turned the corner toward the carriage port and van, Justin stood and lifted the nine millimeter with the suppressor screwed on to the muzzle. He squeezed off two rounds—one to the chest and the other to the forehead. The man was dead before he hit the ground. There was only a rough expulsion of air from his lungs as he hit a thick mound of snow. One down.

  A sense of calm settled over Justin as he hurried around the rear of the house. He was back in his element, whether he wanted to admit that hard truth to himself or not. Yes, he’d spent several years in the Marines and a few more in the CIA. Yes, he’d proved time and again that he was very good at infiltration and assassination. Maybe not so great at extracting a high-value target—only because those packages tended to be slower and ask too many damn questions when he just wanted to get the fuck out.

  There was this twisted part of his brain that saw it all as a game. A high-stakes game of hide-and-seek and he loved to fucking win. God help him, he loved to win. And it wasn’t about his life being on the line. It was his competitive nature. He wanted to be the best, the sneakiest, at this game.

  And he was going to leave it all behind so he could build a life with Gabriel?

  No more sneaking, shooting, and avoiding traps? No more adrenaline-rush fights for victory?

  He would do it for Gabriel, but he’d need to find something to replace it. Not that he could even guess as to what that would be.

  Ugh. Justin nearly groaned out loud at that random train of thought. Now was not the time to worry about how he was going to get his kicks when he had a private, normal life with Gabriel. He had to save the damn man’s life first. And then maybe smack him around a little bit for not letting Justin help in the first place.

  Reaching the rear of the house the guard exited only minutes earlier, Justin jerked the screen door open in hopes that the quick action would reduce the sound. It didn’t work. The hinges once again released their bansheelike wail across the yard. Justin reassured himself that the other occupants of the house had to be used to the sound by now, thanks to the guard’s frequent trips outside. He opened the rear door and took a fast step inside, swinging his gun from right to left.

  The kitchen was a small room with older appliances and a worn countertop. There was a strange floral pattern in the Formica, but the predominant color was an ugly mustard yellow. The fridge looked as if it had limped out of the sixties and was just searching for a good place to finally die. In the middle of the room was a small circular table covered in dirty coffee mugs and glasses that looked as if they had once held alcohol. At least, that was what it smelled like.

  Walking across the room toward the open doorway, Justin leaned against the frame and peered around it and down the dimly lit hallway. Immediately to the right was a door with a slide bolt jammed home. It was a safe guess that it led to the basement and was likely the holding place for Gabriel, but he couldn’t risk heading down to confirm while there were still other people running free. There would be no saving Gabriel if Justin got his own dumb ass locked in the basement.

  Down the hall, a small decorative table held a couple of ceramic figurines and other knickknacks. There were some family pictures on the pale green walls, but everything seemed to be covered in a heavy layer of dust. Either the original occupants had died and no one had visited the house in a while, or it was all staged and hadn’t been used for nefarious purposes in several months.

  Justin wanted to cluck his tongue at the sloppiness. He had a few apartments that he kept as places to crash and stage jobs. He never stayed long at any of them, but a regular cleaning service popped through once a month to make sure they kept that lived-in look. These people didn’t worry about keeping up appearances. He wasn’t sure if it was about laziness or ego—maybe they thought they were above maintaining a façade of lawfulness.

  Who the fuck was Gabriel messing with? Justin couldn’t imagine Gabriel hunting down the mercenaries that kept taking contracts on his head. That was an endless game of whack-a-mole that couldn’t be won. He had to be hunting the people putting out the contracts.

  Whatever the answer he finally got out of his lover, he was sure it wasn’t going to be a good one.

  The hall ended with the front door. To the left was an opening to what Justin was assuming was the living room, and the right held a staircase to the second floor of the farmhouse. Bright light poured from the room, and there was a muffled sound as if from a radio or TV.

  Pausing at the entrance to the living room, Justin spared a quick glance at the stairs to see that there was no one heading down. Justin lifted the gun and swung into the open doorway, his gaze instantly skimming over the entire cluttered room. An oversized couch was shoved against the front wall while a large chair was on the opposite wall. A small black-and-white TV was on a rickety stand between the two pieces of furniture. It looked like there was a game show of some sort on, but Justin was already turning his attention to the large man sprawled across the couch, half-asleep. He didn’t even have time to react before Justin buried two bullets deep in his chest.

  The man on the chair had jumped to his feet. His shout was cut off as Justin shot him as well. His heavy frame crashed to the floor and Justin winced at the noise. The whole house seemed to shake at his impact. That was sure to draw someone’s attention, but he was confident that there couldn’t be too many more people in the house.

  Three down.

  Starting to turn toward the stairs, Justin shouted when something heavy crashed into him from behind, sending him to the floor. Rough, strong hands grabbed at his throat, but the thickness of his coat prevented his attacker from completely closing off his windpipe. Adrenaline pumped through his system and his heart pounded, but calm gripped his mind. Bracing one forearm on the floor, Justin swung his elbow up. It took two tries before he hit his attacker. He kicked back with one foot, slamming it into the bastard’s knee. A loud groan and curse left the person. The fucker pulled away from Justin enough that he could roll over.

  Above him stood a younger man with dark hair and eyes that reminded Justin a little too much of Gabriel. But where Gabriel looked cold and unfeeling when he stared at his target, this man had a hint of something evil twisting his features. He started to raise his foot like he meant to bring it down on him, but Justin was already lifting his own foot, slamming it into the bastard’s balls.

  The man choked out a harsh cry and fell to his knees next to Justin. While still lying on his back, Justin brought up the gun and put the other man out of his misery.

  Life had barely left his body before loud footsteps thun
dered down the stairs. An older man shouted, demanding to know what the hell was going on. The words were once again in Russian. At least there was a consistent theme. Justin waited until the man had nearly reached the bottom step before sitting up and shooting him.

  As his latest target collapsed, he popped out the magazine and slid home a fresh one. He pointed the gun at the staircase and drew in a deep breath. Counting backward from ten, he slowly released it, listening for the sounds of anyone else in the house. The fight and shouting should have drawn out any other person…unless he slept like the dead or was hiding.

  Justin waited only another minute before climbing to his feet. He ascended the stairs with a grin and quickly searched the four bedrooms. He found three beds, all recently slept in, and one empty room but no more people. The bathroom, while incredibly filthy, was also empty.

  The only other place anyone could be hiding was the basement.

  Keeping as quiet as possible, Justin hurried down to the first floor and the bolted door just outside the kitchen. He opened it and instantly drew back at the smell of human waste and blood. For the first time, his heart gave a little lurch, and he struggled to start down the old wooden stairs. There was a faint light coming from farther in the room, but it lifted the darkness enough that Justin could descend without breaking his neck.

  The basement was frigid, easily twenty degrees colder than the first floor. The stone walls and dirt offered no warmth. Justin kept his gun raised as he looked around at the nearly empty room. There was an old table and a couple of folding chairs.

  In the far corner, where the light just barely reached, he made out the shape of a man tied to a chair. Justin’s hand reflexively tightened on the gun, but he couldn’t force air into his lungs until he finally took that step closer.

  It was Gabriel.

  Oh fuck…it was Gabriel.

  And he looked bad.

  Relief and horror tore through Justin’s system in equal parts as he rushed to Gabriel’s side. He carefully laid a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder, trying to avoid the vast assortment of seeping cuts and ugly bruises covering his partially naked body. At the first contact, Gabriel jerked and gasped as if waking suddenly from a nightmare. Or maybe his body was sure he was waking back into the nightmare he’d been in for the past several days.

  Gabriel’s head swung around and tilted oddly as he tried to see out of two swollen eyes. He tried to pull away from Justin’s touch but he couldn’t, thanks to the bindings.

  “No, it’s me. You’re safe,” Justin said and then swore under his breath when he remembered that he was still wearing the damn black face shield. To Gabriel he probably looked like the grim reaper or a TV ninja. Neither was good. Jerking the shield down, Justin forced a smile, holding perfectly still so that Gabriel could look at him.

  Gabriel’s ragged breathing was the only sound in the basement for several seconds, and Justin was beginning to worry that he was going to give the man a heart attack when Gabriel finally spoke.

  “Justin?” His voice was ragged and hoarse, but there was a fragile thread of hope there that nearly broke Justin’s heart.

  “Yeah, it’s me. I thought I’d come rescue your sorry ass,” he teased, trying to break the suffocating tension in the room.

  Gabriel’s lips moved again, but his voice wasn’t strong enough for Justin to hear the sound. But he could so clearly read the two words that Gabriel managed before he passed out again.

  Thank you.

  Justin smiled softly at the unconscious man. It was a start. Some of the fear that had gripped him over the past several months started to ease, and he took another deep breath before grabbing the knife clipped to his waist. He cut through the ropes that bound Gabriel to the chair and managed to rouse the man enough for him to help Justin a little to get him up the stairs.

  He kicked the dead body from the couch to the floor and carefully deposited Gabriel on the worn cushions before leaving to ransack the house. He couldn’t find any clothes that looked like they might belong to Gabriel. Didn’t matter. He grabbed whatever he could, stripping the corpses where he had to.

  Within twenty minutes, he had Gabriel dressed heavily enough that he wasn’t in danger of freezing to death. Justin loaded him into the van; they needed to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible. He didn’t know if or when more people were expected, but Justin had no doubt in his mind that this rescue of Gabriel was only a short reprieve. Gabriel still wasn’t free, but Justin wasn’t leaving his lover’s side again until all the men who were hunting him were dead.

  Chapter 2

  Gabriel woke to warmth. His body was floating on a cloud. He would have been sure he was dead if he didn’t feel like crap. Everything ached and throbbed with pain, but he was finally warm. When he was being held captive, he’d begun to think that he’d never feel warm again. That had surely been their plan, along with beating and torturing him to death.

  Taking a deep breath, he willed his body to relax, sinking farther into the comfortable mattress. He didn’t want to move ever again.

  The only thing that could make this better was Justin Mallory.

  Gabriel’s eyes popped open and his breath caught in his throat. Justin had appeared at wherever the hell he was being held and gotten him out. Justin had been the one to wrap him up in warm clothes and shuffle him off into a vehicle. His memory grew foggy from there. He was vaguely aware of travel, but he wasn’t sure how long they were in the car…truck…van. The next thing he could remember was being peeled out of clothes and gently laid in a bed.

  He had no idea how much time had passed since they’d arrived at what was most likely a safe location. Exhaustion and pain still gnawed at him. He wanted to lie there and be grateful that he was still alive because of one man.

  Justin had come for him. Gabriel should have expected it. They were linked, tied by fate or God or a mythical red thread. Gabriel didn’t know or care. Six months ago, they met for a job and Gabriel was sure his entire world fell into balance when the man flashed that cocky smirk.

  Of course, Gabriel hadn’t been smart enough at the time to recognize that his world was changing for the better. Just that the man was going to drive him insane.

  And as much as he wanted to lie there and drift back into sleep, he needed to see Justin more.

  Gritting his teeth, Gabriel grabbed the blanket and shoved it away. He was naked except for a pair of boxer briefs that he suspected were Justin’s. A motley of colors covered his body as the bruises started to heal. There were several bandages over his arms, legs, and ribs. He carefully peeled back one to see expertly placed stitches from where he’d been cut open and left to slowly bleed out.

  Smoothing the bandage back, Gabriel swung his legs out of the bed and got to his feet, wincing. Everything felt stiff and sore, but not as bad as he was expecting. He needed a shower and food. Those two things would help get his body and mind on the mend faster than more bed rest.

  But first, he needed to find Justin. His unexpected savior was not in the bedroom. Flicking on the lamp on the bedside table, Gabriel glanced around the small room. There wasn’t much to see. The walls were a cool, pale blue. There was a queen-sized bed, a nightstand, and a small dresser filling the room. A chair was positioned at the foot of the bed, but it looked like something that had been taken from a dining room table rather than a piece of furniture meant for the bedroom.

  Shuffling to the open door, Gabriel peered out into the short hall. There were two other open doors—one for the bathroom and the other for an empty bedroom. He continued down the hall that opened into a living room. There he finally located Justin on the couch. Sitting upright in the center, Justin was asleep, his chin resting on his chest while his right hand was lightly wrapped around a gun at his side. A mug of coffee sat cooling on the table in front of him.

  Justin looked like shit. His blondish-brown hair was ruffled and standing up in spots. The scruff on his cheeks was heavier than usual and even from a distance, Gabriel could s
ee the dark shadows under his eyes. Justin had guarded and cared for him, unable to get any sleep himself. There was no point in allowing him to stay in such an awkward position on the couch now that Gabriel was up and moving around.

  “Justin,” Gabriel said firmly. He hated to disturb him, but he was better off in a bed.

  Justin jerked awake, the gun jumping up before he opened his eyes. Gabriel lurched back a step, trying to move out of the line of fire in case Justin reacted before his brain registered who was standing in the room with him.

  “Don’t fucking shoot me,” Gabriel grumbled. He’d managed this long without getting shot, and he still had a lot that needed to be accomplished. Getting shot by Justin was not going to make thing easier for him.

  “G?” Justin’s voice was a rough growl, but it managed to warm parts of Gabriel that hadn’t been reached by the mounds of blankets on the bed he’d just left. Justin scrubbed his free hand over his eyes, but he didn’t lower the gun.

  “It’s me. Why don’t you move to the bed? Get some real sleep.”

  When Justin finally blinked at him, he set the gun down on the table and jumped to his feet. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?”

  “Shower, toothbrush, food, sleep,” Gabriel listed. “And not necessarily in that order.”

  “Let me—”

  Gabriel pressed his fingers to Justin’s lips, stopping the offer before he could get the words out. “I can take care of it. You’ve been taking care of me for…how many days have we been here?”

  Justin pressed a kiss to his fingers before removing them from his mouth. “Three. Three days since I found you in that farmhouse.”

  “Fuck,” Gabriel whispered. He couldn’t believe he’d been out of it for so long, but then he’d been beaten, starved, and frozen. His body needed time to heal from that damage.