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

by Jacki Delecki

Using her good hand, Danni pinched his chest, causing him to flinch. “I’ll be right as rain once you get me Tylenol and some ice, buttercup.”

  “Soon. I promise.” He followed the young girl through a back door. She led them down a narrow row filled with pallets of cat and dog food stacked to the ceiling. The smell of the crowded space was a strange mix of fish, beef, and possibly seaweed blended into a nauseating odor.

  Lars searched the area for exits. There was only the one steel-hinged door where trucks made their deliveries.

  “The break room is pretty bad, but it has chairs. And there is a restroom.”

  The girl was right about the state of the employees’ “lounge.” It was a square white space, not more than eight-by-ten feet with a mini-fridge and an old microwave. He slowly lowered Danni to a rickety metal chair by the Formica table.

  “Any chance you have ice?” Lars asked the girl, who remained at the door.

  Danni made no sound as she was jostled but pinched her lips together, her wrist held tight against her chest. Her pupils were dark and wide in contrast to her pained, pale face.

  “No, it’s just a refrigerator.”

  The girl twisted at the sound of a door chime. “I need to go. A customer has come into the store. Just yell if you need me.”

  “Thanks for your help. We’ll be out of here very soon.” Lars spoke calmly not to cause alarm since it might not be a “customer” who had come into the store.

  Once the girl left, Lars pulled his gun out of jeans and, with a finger to lips, signaled Danni to remain silent.

  Peering through the window, he watched a young family enter, followed by a single woman. Lars exhaled in relief, the first breath he allowed himself since Danni came flying out of the store. They were safe for now.

  He ran back to the break room, pulling out his cell.

  “Regular customers. I’m going to call Reeves and then I’ll check out your wrist. You’re doing real good keeping it stable like that.”

  Her arm was against her chest, and a fine film of sweat now dotted her hairline.

  “You were following me, weren’t you?”

  Lars punched Reeves’s number. “I need a hot exit. And a MD at the safe house.”

  “What? Is Danni okay?” Reeves’s intake of breath came loud and clear.

  “She’s safe for now. But you need to get us out of here. We’re at the ACME Pet Store. We’ll come out of the back door in the alley. How long?”

  “Not long. The backup team just left LAX once Sophie’s flight took off.”

  Lars hung up.

  “Where is your cell phone? We need to get rid of the SIM card.”

  “God, I left it in the T-shirt store. I had a bag, but I dropped it on the floor when I was discovered by the men. My ID and everything was in the bag.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’ll get Reeves on it once we’re out of here.” He pulled the second chair close to Danni. “I’m going to put your ankle up. I’ll try not to jostle it.”

  Danni nodded, chewing on her lower lip in anticipation of the pain.

  He grasped her ankle, stabilizing the heel to prevent any motion. The tight-laced boots that caused her fall were at least keeping the swelling contained until he could get her medical care.

  Lars tried to ignore how short her skirt was, but his gaze travelled up her thigh, giving him a glimpse under her skirt. Damn, the woman had on red panties. If backup wasn’t here soon, he’d need to lie down as well.

  Chapter Nine

  Danni floated in a sea of sensations. The hydrocodone made her feel loopy, but not a happy loopy like Dom Perignon. Fortunately, the agonizing headache and excruciating pain in her wrist that almost made her toss her cookies in the SUV had faded.

  Now all she wanted to do was nap and forget the armed man who stirred up all the frightening memories of being held at gunpoint by her kidnappers. She never wanted to be a victim again. She wanted to get on with tracking down the brazen assholes, not be cloistered in some fancy safe house in exclusive Brentwood, home to the Hollywood stars.

  Propped up in bed, with her wrist wrapped in ice and elevated on two pillows, she watched Lars unlace her knee-high platform boot. Her elevated leg brought her short skirt barely to the top of her thighs. This was too intimate, as he scrutinized her face while he carefully lifted her leg.

  A tender and compassionate Lars was more than she could handle at this low point. She didn’t want him soothing and sweet. She couldn’t stand it. She might end up crying and throwing herself into his arms. And then what? She liked not liking him.

  “I can undo my own boot.”

  “One-handed?” He raised his right eyebrow—the one that had a small white scar running through it. The man had more scars than a prowling tomcat.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, his hip close to her leg, he studied her face, his penetrating gaze seeing more than she wanted. Damn the man. Who knew he could be sensitive?

  “When does the real doctor arrive?”

  “Any minute now.”

  God, she hated that he wasn’t responding to her barbs. Despite the pain hovering on the periphery, she was aware of the heat radiating from his hip as well as his salty smell of sweat and cedar.

  “The doctor can unlace my boot when he arrives.” She had never before been injured badly enough to require medical attention or narcotics. She hated being tended to or pampered, especially by a virile male whom she had successfully avoided for weeks.

  He chuckled, the growly sound washing over her skin.

  “I’ve been wanting to do this since the moment you stepped out of the car. Don’t ruin my fantasy after what you’ve put me through today.”

  “Put you through?” She jerked forward, pain ricocheting through her head with the motion. “I’m the one who was chased and almost run down.”

  His eyes darkened as his lips compressed into a taut line. She had never seen this haunted look on the face of the man who never took anything seriously. It couldn’t be fear. He was never afraid. He hadn’t been afraid to jump in front of the terrorist who planned to shoot her. He was a scary marine who exuded alpha pheromones. He was so damn self-assured, confident that the world would do his bidding and that all women would welcome him into their bed. He was right, of course. And didn’t he know it?

  “I never want to live through that again. Seeing that car barreling toward you.”

  “You came through it fine from my perspective.” She pointed to her elevated wrist.

  She planned to avoid any discussion on how scary today was, to move right past the experience. She had worked hard to take back control of her life. She needed to get away from the memories, away from this man, and back to investigating.

  He loosened the shoestrings, exposing her leg. His hot hand soothed the skin along her shin, causing goosebumps up her thighs. She chewed on her lip to fight the urge to squirm at his touch.

  “When are you going to explain why you were following me?”

  His head was bent over her as he worked the shoelace down to her ankle.

  “No, ‘thank you, Lars, for saving my bacon?’ Sweet bacon that it is.”

  “I’m not sure I like being compared to a pig.”

  He shot her a grin. The man had smoldering blue eyes and long dark lashes that she could only achieve with makeup.

  She struggled to suppress sensations from the rough touch of his calloused fingers as he slowly peeled the shoe from her ankle.

  “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. This is going to hurt.”

  She hissed between her teeth as he tugged on the ill-fitting boot. The cheap boots hadn’t been worth the money that she had saved. If she had known she would have to run for her life, she would have splurged on comfortable boots.

  “You definitely have swelling, but not enough to make me think you’ve broken a bone. But like wrists, ankles can be tricky. There are a lot of small bones.”

  His thick hand explored the swelling around her ankle. “The doc will manipulate
your ankle and your wrist to check for tenderness. I’m way too nice to put you through it twice. Let’s get ice on your ankle until he arrives. Has the hydrocodone kicked in? Covering your pain?”

  “Champagne would be better.”

  She refused to be charmed by his lopsided, winsome grin. Jax had a million-dollar smile and the body of an underwear model and look how that turned out.

  “How do you know so much about injuries? From being a marine? Or having insane brothers?”

  “Earned first aid and lifesaving merit badges as an Eagle Scout.”

  “You, an Eagle Scout? That’s a joke, right?”

  “All the Jenkins brothers were Eagle Scouts, like our father and our Uncle Harry. And all Marine Raiders except for Finn, who had to be different.”

  He threw the boot on the floor and started on her left boot. “I can’t believe you were able to run in these contraptions. But I’m damn glad that you were.”

  “You don’t need to remove the other one.”

  “You’ll eventually need to get up, and you don’t want to be lopsided. And the ties look like they were irritating your skin.” As he undid the second, his hand gently stroked the red marks where the cheap metal eyelets had abraded her skin.

  “Let’s go over details again. Now that you’re not in pain, you might remember something more about Miro and his companion.”

  Lars had been relentless in questioning her once she had been tucked into the safety of their exit SUV and under the protection of two no-nonsense, thick-necked, armed guys. After giving her the pain pills from the medical kit in the SUV, he’d interrogated her about every detail of her time in the store and its occupants. He’d never stopped during the entire thirty-minute drive across LA to the Richard Dean safe house.

  Despite being Jordan’s closest friend, Danni hadn’t known about some of the new security protocols that Richard Dean had imposed after his daughter’s and Danni’s kidnappings. Now, whenever Jordan or her younger sister Sophie travelled, there was a backup safe house and an entire security team complete with medical support on high alert. Danni’s and Lars’s exit out of Santee Alley was seamless—something positive from the traumatic ordeal.

  “Did you consider going to med school instead of becoming a superhero?”

  “Nice job deflecting. Let’s go back to Miro. Can you remember anything else about him? Any distinguishing features?”

  Danni was stalling, trying to avoid replaying the terror when Miro commanded his lackey to take her, evoking visceral memories of slimy hands grabbing her arms before forcing her into a van. She had learned that day that there were men who treated human beings as disposable. A bone-chilling shudder swept through her body. She was still in shock from the day. She wouldn’t let another group of soulless men frighten her. Next time, she’d be prepared. And next time, she wouldn’t run away. She’d fight back.

  “Why would Miro think you were a Fed?”

  “At first, I thought he was crazy paranoid. And there is the obvious that I caught him in a criminal act. Honestly, I think he thought my Goth outfit was an undercover disguise for a Fed.”

  “Why did you wear such an outrageous outfit? Not that I mind.” He waggled his brows.

  “I chose these clothes to convince the store owner that I owned a shop in Seattle that specialized in Goth and morbid stuff to not look suspicious about asking about the blood-spattered T-shirt designer.”

  “It amazes me that your visit to a T-shirt store could turn into a deadly chase.”

  “Why do you make it sound like I did something wrong? I was an innocent bystander. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. My cover was working until that dumbass Roland came in. Oh, my God. I need to call Alex. He’s going to be so worried when he can’t reach me.”

  “I planned to wait until after the doc’s visit.” He stopped unlacing her boot and looked up at her. “About Hardy. Your gig as his bodyguard is finished.”

  Outrage exploded into every pore of her being. As if he could tell her what to do. She opened her mouth and closed it. Her brain was racing, trying to make all the pieces fit together of the last day—Sophie’s surprise visit with Lars, his appearance in Santee Alley, right when she was being chased. She wasn’t a Mensa member for nothing.

  “Reeves thought I was in over my head. That’s why he sent you to be my watchdog.”

  She wouldn’t allow Lars to see the hurt and betrayal that she felt at Reeves going behind her back and confiding in Lars—the one man she didn’t want to be in her business. Reeves should have talked to her. They were close buds. Or she’d thought they were. But Reeves had been acting off the last weeks.

  “Sophie wasn’t part of this plan to ‘save Danni from herself,’ was she?”

  Danni couldn’t imagine Sophie wouldn’t have her back. Although Jordan was Danni’s colleague and bestie, Danni and Sophie had bonded after their kidnapping. Not ones to sit around and dwell on the trauma, she and Sophie had hit the clubs to let off steam by dancing and flirting outrageously.

  “Sophie didn’t know,” Lars said evenly. His angular jaw had tightened, and he leaned away from her. He was expecting her to go ballistic. Well, the one thing she relished was keeping Lars off balance by doing the unexpected.

  “I guess I should thank you and Reeves for having more foresight than I did. If you hadn’t been following me, I’m not sure what might have happened.” Another shudder wracked through her. Was the deep chill from the opiate?

  “I really do appreciate your help. But once I’ve seen the doctor, I’ll figure out what I plan to do next. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to rest. It’s been a long day.”

  She closed her eyes and feigned sleep. Once she knew the status of her condition, she’d text Jordan, Sophie, Izzy, and Emily. She had backup from the brightest and bravest women. She didn’t need Reeves. Izzy worked for the NSA and could hack anything. It was too bad Izzy was in love with Lars’s twin, but the IT genius would help her. Just like the other women who were involved with Jenkins men, they’d be there for her. This was a sisterhood call for help.

  Chapter Ten

  Steam must be venting out of Lars’s ears, or his brain would have exploded by now. He stared at his phone. He couldn’t possibly have heard Reeves correctly.

  In the forty-five minutes that he had been on the phone with the DEA, coordinating with his team for Danni’s security coverage in the safe house and setting up a private bodyguard for Alex Hardy, Danni had managed to piece together her own protection detail with a little help from the stud muffin MD on call.

  “Cancel Sophie’s flight and Jordan’s safe house. I’ll handle Danni,” Lars barked into the phone before he jammed it into his pocket.

  Danni had lost her phone, but Dr. Eric hadn’t. It took no more than one flick of her sexy hair to entice the good doctor to hand over his phone and all his credit cards.

  It had taken all of Lars’s self-discipline to leave the room after the California golden boy, replete in his tight blue jeans and fitted oxford shirt, arrived to examine Danni. Lars expected a father figure graying at the temples who’d comfort Danni with soft words and a pat on the hand. Lars wasn’t prepared for a young dude who looked like he played college ball for UCLA or who had a career as a surfer before becoming an emergency room MD. The guy’s expression upon seeing Danni stretched out like a fantasy feast was easy for any male to read—primal lust.

  Lars stomped down all the caveman shit. They had a lot more to deal with than jealousy.

  During the time she was supposed to be examined and x-rayed, she had managed to call her girlfriends for an exit strategy. Danni had asked Sophie to head back to LA and scoop Danni up while Jordan was arranging the safe house for her on Orcas Island, where the Deans had a secure compound.

  Lars would be impressed if he weren’t boiling mad that she had taken a risk. There was a good reason that safe houses were called “safe.” Fortunately, both Sophie’s and Jordan’s phones were highly encrypted, and Danni had made only th
e two calls that he knew of…

  Too bad for his busy little bee, her plans were for naught. With Nick in Hawaii, Lars had the final say on travel and safe houses. And with Danni in Miro’s crosshairs, Lars wasn’t letting her out of his sight.

  Lars took a few deep breaths, trying to regain control. Lars couldn’t decide who he wanted to do more damage to—Danni or her surfer MD. The dipshit allowed her to make phone calls on his phone. He had been called to the safe house to assess and treat, not to become T-Mobile.

  Lars was trying to rein in his frustration at Danni, reminding himself that she had been through a major trauma today. He knew part of his “over” reaction was that Danni hadn’t trusted him to take care of her. She saw him only as some sexual cowboy in hot pursuit. She didn’t believe that he could separate his burning lust for her from his job. Why couldn’t he get any credit for coming to her rescue today or saving her from the terrorist’s bullet? All he wanted was to keep her safe. Not everything he wanted, but her safety would always be the first priority. It hurt on a level he didn’t totally grasp that she hadn’t trusted him.

  It was time to get rid of the doc and have a heart to heart with his wannabe FBI agent. He didn’t knock on the door but strolled into the bedroom unannounced and immediately lost his shit.

  Eric had his hands wrapped around Danni’s ankle; her leg lifted high enough so Lars could see straight up her skirt to her red panties. Fiery red spots of fury clouded his vision. There was no way in hell that Eric wasn’t copping a look.

  Lars’s hands fisted at his sides as he tried to gain control. Lars was going to crush the guy despite Eric being as large and buffed as he was. The difference wasn’t between their strength or body build. Eric was trained in taking care of people while Lars was trained in hurting people. And Lars planned to hurt the guy for exposing Danni. She deserved for the man to behave professionally, not like a dog in heat.

  He paused when he got close. Danni wasn’t giving Dr. Eric that coy smirk that she frequently flashed at Lars whenever he was in her vicinity. Her shoulders were slumped, and her blonde tresses that he fantasized about running his hands through drooped in front of her face. He had never seen her look more miserable. What had happened to his fiery blonde? Her eyes were glassy, and intermittent tears escaped and ran down her cheek. She brushed them away with her right hand, now in a cast. And all his anger and jealousy deflated like a flat tire.