Mission: Impossible to Protect (The Impossible Mission Romantic Suspense Series Book 6)

by Jacki Delecki

  It was a matter of minutes to find the perfect silver bracelet to match the buckles on her jacket and black belt.

  She smiled as she caught the image of herself in the store mirror, and her fake nose piercing flashed. Her disguise was all part of her plan to convince the shop owner to feed her the deets on the stalker. This “incognito” business was a blast, better than dressing up for clubs. Her hair was hidden under a black wig, and a black watch cap, since black hair was a Goth requisite. And Danni didn’t have the time or inclination to dye her hair.

  She could see the end of the alley over the heads of everyone but could barely get around the mass of women who were fighting over leather purses in an open stall. Raised voices and shoving was becoming irritatingly tiresome.

  The tiny hairs on Danni’s neck raised again. She quickly turned around to check if anyone was following her. The prickling sensation had started as she left the jewelry store. No one except Reeves knew where she was. She had told Alex that she was going shopping, but she didn’t tell him where.

  Everyone surrounding her looked like the usual mishmash of shoppers. Maybe she was taking the spy business a little too seriously, or last night’s overindulgence was catching up to her.

  Danni slipped into the perfume store to watch from the window for anyone who appeared questionable. She lifted a bottle from the beautiful array on the counter, pretending to smell the fruity scent of Jo Malone. She had to swallow hard to not retch from the intensity of the scent. What was she thinking last night when she drank endless glasses of champagne? She wasn’t thinking. She jumped into avoidance and shutdown mode. She gazed out the window. No one “suspicious” had passed by.

  She moved to the lipstick display since the employee was looking at Danni as if expecting her to pocket a few items. She found a perfect shade of Dior fuchsia that would look great with her favorite lime-green dress. And the lipstick was ten dollars less than retail price. The saleswoman looked a bit shocked that Goth Danni had bought the feminine pink lipstick. Danni kept her focus on the window during the transaction.

  She stepped back into the crowd after searching both ways. No one stood out. Maybe it was last night’s excess and her empty stomach that was making her jittery. She wished she could have confided in Reeves, but she knew how he’d react if he were aware of her plan. The T-shirt was the only lead she had. And she was capable of talking to a shop owner all by her lonesome.

  Leaving the alley, she crossed both streets to the T-Shirt and Sports Emporium. She couldn’t shake the sensation that someone followed her.

  She stopped in front of the Emporium, pretending to inspect the window filled with tourists’ T-shirts and sports clothes. She angled her head to see in the window reflection if anyone was lingering.

  Nike, Adidas, and Under Armour clothing was displayed. The downside of shopping in this area…lots of knockoffs. She turned to search the street one last time before entering the store.

  Door chimes rang in the empty store. The small space was crammed with rows of hanging shirts and shelves of running shoes, shorts, and stacks of T-shirts. The dark room was overcrowded with merchandise and smelled of moldy cheese.

  A Chinese woman came from behind a curtain at the back of the store. Her speech was punctuated by her rapid steps. “I’ve Adidas, Reebok, Under Armour. What do you like?”

  The woman’s piercing eyes did a fast-track down Danni’s outfit. “I’ve black. You need black T-shirts? I’ve a big selection. Or you can print your own.”

  Her yellow-toothed smile didn’t reach her eyes. Danni looked to see if the woman’s fingers were also nicotine stained.

  “I didn’t come for one T-shirt.” Danni gave her a full-wattage smile that brought men to their knees.

  “A friend received this T-shirt as a surprise gift.” Danni dug the shirt out of her bag. “I’d like to buy at least a hundred more of this shirt for my Seattle shop. I’d need them in all different sizes.”

  The woman’s face didn’t register any shock at Danni’s request as she inspected the label on the shirt. “It is a custom design. But I have many like this. Let me show you.”

  “Oh, no. I fell in love with this shirt.” Danni fingered the blood splotches as revulsion filled her throat. “It will sell well with my customers.”

  “You don’t want to see my shirts?”

  “Maybe you can reproduce this shirt? Contact the designer? I’m happy to pay you a special commission for putting me in touch with the designer. And of course, I’ll have you print the T-shirts.”

  The woman’s shrewd eyes assessed Danni’s face. “I might still have her order. Let me check my records. You look around. You might find something else you’d like.”

  Danni couldn’t stop the grin from moving across her face with the ease of her success. Of course, she owed Reeves for the connection. The next issue would be what to do with the information. Once she had a name, she’d ask Reeves to do a deep search before she told Alex.

  She wandered over near the window where the sports clothes were located. She should buy a high-end pair of leggings or running shoes to make the shop owner happy.

  She startled when she heard a man’s raised voice speaking in Spanish. She hadn’t seen anyone enter the store. Or heard the door chimes.

  A dark-skinned man in a red Nike running suit with heavy gold bling flashing around his neck was in an intense discussion with the owner. He leaned over the counter and waved a stack of cash in front of her face. The woman didn’t look fazed by his angry tone or posture. She shrugged and then answered in rapid Spanish.

  Danni quickly covered her mouth to silence her gasp when Roland Young, the lead guitarist in his rumpled T-shirt and jeans, sauntered into the store from behind the curtain, followed by a bulky man with thick black hair and a snake tattoo on his neck.

  Despite the twenty feet between her and Roland’s companions, it didn’t take a biochemist/physicist to conclude that Roland’s companions were nasty players. Her mind raced with possibilities, but nothing added up. Was there a connection between Roland and these gangsters and the stalker? His drug dealers using the store for money laundering was the only logical conclusion. But for what reason would he pretend to be a stalker? To extort money from Alex?

  Danni quickly bent over and held her breath. Roland had yet to spot her since she hid behind a rack of clothing. She couldn’t sneak out without Roland and his violent friends seeing her since the damn chimes would ring. She needed to stay cool and bluff her way through this.

  “Let me finish with my customer.”

  The woman’s voice cut over the hammering of Danni’s frantic heartbeat.

  The store went eerily silent.

  Danni couldn’t hide any longer. She straightened and put on her game face. She had perfected it after the months of pretending that she wasn’t humiliated by Jax’s deceit.

  All three men focused on her. She fought the need to run to the door. Her heart thumped so hard it felt like her chest would explode.

  “Roland. Are you now in the T-shirt business?” Okay, so probably not the best way to stay cool.

  “What the fuck, Danni? You’re following me?” Roland shouted. His pale face turned a blotchy red.

  Danni couldn’t stop the nervous laugh. “Talk about irony, right? Though I was here before you.”

  She stepped out from behind the rack to position herself in front of the door, ready to make her exit.

  “You fucking idiot. A Fed followed you?” The man in charge pulled out a handgun before Danni could blink. He aimed what looked like a semi-automatic at Danni.

  “Miro, she’s not a Fed. She’s Hardy’s girlfriend.”

  The man waved his gun between her and Roland. “And it’s a fucking coincidence that she’s here right now. Today, when everything is going down?”

  “I don’t know why she’s here, but it has nothing to do with our business.”

  Danni inched closer to the door. “Miro” didn’t look like a trusting sort of guy. Miro’s s
oulless eyes examining her set off five-bell alarms. The man had definitely set fires and tortured birds and cats as a child.

  “Get her.” Miro nodded to his lackey.

  Danni knew she could outrun the chubby partner with his belly hanging over his blue jeans if she made it out of the door alive.

  She bolted through the door. Fear consumed her as she waited for the shot to her back. Her stupid, cheap platform boots slowed her down as she ran into the street. She didn’t pause to look back. No one had shot her yet. She had to get back to the busy alley and lost in the crowd.

  Her ankle twisted as she sprinted across the empty street. If they didn’t kill her, she would most likely break her ankle. She tore down the block toward the alley, waiting for her chance to cross the busy intersection.

  Finally seeing a chance, she dodged two cars before she dashed across the second street.

  She looked over her shoulder at the roar of an engine as a black van barreled down the street.

  The van was aimed directly at her. She was too slow. The bastard was going to hit her. How many of them were there?

  Her breath came in jagged bursts. She tripped, her weight going over her stupid boots. She tried to break her fall with her hand as she went down. Her head slammed into the curb before everything went dark.

  Chapter Eight

  Danni blasted out of the store like her miniskirt was on fire. A bulky, dark-haired man, automatic in hand, came tearing out of the store close behind her.

  Driven by primal fear, Lars bolted into action. Adrenaline mainlined as he sprinted to rescue her.

  Lars cut between the tour buses, keeping Danni in sight as she sprinted across the street. He yanked his gun out of his shoulder holster, holding the MR-15 plastered to his side not to escalate…yet.

  Danni dodged past the speeding cars, widening the distance from the man who gave chase. Fortunately for Danni, her pursuer was overweight and out of shape. With his endurance flagging, the chubby man slowed to barely a jog and lowered his gun as he wiped the sweat off his forehead.

  Speeding up to intercept Danni’s predator, Lars was forced to make a screeching stop. A cluster of senior citizens, returning to their tour buses, moved directly in front of him. The tour leader’s umbrella blocked Lars’s view of Danni. Shoving his way through the white-haired cluster wasn’t an option since a few were already barely upright.

  Calling upon his extensive vocabulary of expletives, he pivoted and backtracked around the row of buses.

  Trying to make up for lost time, he sprinted. His heart raced in fear until he spotted her, red-faced with her arms swinging, her long legs pumping, crisscrossing through the traffic as she headed toward the alley. He thanked his therapist for all the work they’d put into his rehab. His leg twinged but was holding up. And Lars knew how to ignore pain.

  The roar of an engine raised every hair on his body. He twisted to find the source. A black van with tinted windows was accelerating toward Danni, who was more than halfway across the busy thoroughfare. The SUV sped straight at her. Lars was too far away, and the van was too close. He had no option to get off a shot without potential collateral damage.

  He burst toward her, knowing he’d be too late.

  Panicked, he couldn’t pull air into his lungs. He watched the action like a slowed sports replay: Danni jumping to avoid the van, twisting her ankle as her weight was thrown forward. Throwing her hand out to break the fall, then her body contorting, and her head slamming into the cement.

  Lars tore through the last hundred feet to Danni lying motionless, prone on the pavement. Cars veered to avoid hitting her.

  Lars swept her up with his left arm, his gun, steady in his right hand, aimed at the pursuer. His focus was fixed on the man who now stood in the middle of the busy street. The asshole’s eyes scanned the crowd, calculating the odds of getting a clear shot in the congested area.

  Danni moaned as he pulled her against his chest and backed away from the danger. Lars kept stepping further away from the man who now spoke rapidly into his cell—most likely calling in reinforcements. The man didn’t flinch as the honking cars swerved around him. The dude had cojones, as he was willing to risk his life to get to Danni. Or was that desperation?

  Lars quickly assessed the exits. Joining the crowd was his best option since the streets left them wide open.

  Danni shifted in his arms as Lars turned and raced into the crowd for cover. He pulled off her lopsided wig that hung over her left eye to make sure she wasn’t bleeding anywhere other than the abrasion across her forehead.

  Assessing the extent of her injuries would have to wait until he got her away from the threat. First rule of first aid: remove the victim out of harm’s way. SUVs and an armed man in pursuit presented a big fricking threat. How could one woman find so much trouble?

  Lars cursed that he wasn’t miced to call Reeves for backup and an ambulance. Several people approached to help but stopped when they saw his gun. Who knew he would need a battalion to guard Danni?

  He repeatedly turned back to look for the return of the SUV and see whether the dude had decided to follow them. The man must have received instructions not to pursue since he now walked back toward the store. If Lars weren’t alone, he’d have gone after the fricking asshole.

  Lars tucked the gun into the back of his jeans, pushing his way through the shoppers. He lifted Danni higher against his body, cradling her neck to prevent further jarring.

  “Sweetheart, how you doing?” He soothed her golden hair away from her pale face. Tenderness and guilt filled his chest. How could he let this happen to her on his watch?

  People stopped and stared at the spectacle of a beautiful, unconscious woman in his arms. Nothing like being totally conspicuous and memorable. He had to quickly choose one of the stores in the alley to hide in until Reeves could arrange for an exit.

  A pet store he had spotted when following Danni was a little farther ahead if he remembered correctly. If. He never dealt in “ifs.” He was always mission ready. If he had been treating this as a real mission, he would have reconnoitered the entire area in advance, known all the stores, including all the exits. Instead, he had been engrossed in watching Danni sashay through the crowd.

  “Lars?” Her voice was husky. She reached up and touched his face. Her slender fingers traced the scar on his chin from the butt of an ISIS rifle to the face.

  Grateful to hear her voice and feel her gentle touch, he couldn’t stop the tremor in his voice or the rawness welling up in his throat. “It’s okay. We’re almost there.”

  “Why are you carrying me?” Her big eyes blinked up at him, her thick lashes fluttering.

  “You don’t remember?” Did she sustain a concussion? The large, angry abrasion on her forehead reflected her face-plant on the cement. The bleeding had slowed, but now the area was swelling. She would have a big bruise tomorrow, marring her perfect face.

  “I remember everything. Where is the dirtball?”

  God, this woman could’ve been a marine. He wanted to kiss her despite the threat.

  “We’ve lost him for now, but we’ve got to get out of here.”

  “You can put me down. I’m perfectly capable of walking. We’re drawing attention. Not the best idea for escaping notice.”

  Lars laughed out loud. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush or this confounding woman who fit perfectly in his arms and had his world in a tailspin. Despite being chased by an armed man and almost run down, she was already directing the op—an op he hadn’t anticipated and wasn’t prepared for. He was known for his ability to adjust on the battlefield, but watching Danni threatened on all sides would take him a long time to forget.

  “Once we get into the pet store, I’ll put you down, and you can decide if your twisted ankle is ready for weight.”

  “My ankle isn’t hurting. It’s my wrist. I might have broken it.”

  “Don’t move it.” He dodged another tour group with an open umbrella.

  “Why would I want to do
that?”

  Her exasperation was endearing. “Only a few feet more.” The Jenkins’ Scandinavian ancestors’ genes came in handy; Lars could see over the bobbing heads. They hadn’t been followed. Lars pulled the door open to the ACME Pet Store.

  “How did you know where to find me?”

  “Once I’ve called Reeves, we can talk.”

  A teenage girl with purple hair and ink on her arms rushed from behind the counter. “Live long and purr paws” was emblazoned across her purple cat T-shirt in honor of Star Trek.

  On missions, you had to improvise and rely on whatever support you could muster. But today was nothing like he had experienced in his years as a tier-one operator.

  Ponytail swinging, the girl ran toward them. “Is she okay?”

  “My wife took a bad fall. Some crazy shopper knocked her down. I think she might have broken her wrist.”

  Turning on the Jenkins charm, he relaxed his shoulders and smiled widely to reassure the young girl that he was harmless. Danni gasped as she stiffened in his arms.

  “Do you have a back room where she could rest until our friend can pick us up? She hit her head, and I don’t want to leave her to get our car.”

  “Do you want me to call an ambulance?”

  Danni flicked her hair off her face and beamed. “We really appreciate your help. My husband is a nervous Nelly and overreacts to every little thing. We’re newlyweds, and he’s adjusting to the idea of being responsible for a wife.”

  Lars squeezed Danni’s thigh, not to hurt, but to remind her that payback was hell. Despite the pain, the pallor, and the guarding of her wrist against his chest, she still could give him shit. “My wife is very reckless, and I’m always needing to rescue her.”

  Lars couldn’t stop grinning in response to Danni’s mutterings under her breath.

  He was sure she was using her creative and brilliant brain to besmirch his character.

  “You can wait in the break room if you don’t want me to call an ambulance.”

  “Thanks. We’re good. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”