Dangerously Entwined (Aegis Group Lepta Team, #5)

by Bristol, Sidney

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell me.”

  “It’s a bad idea.” She sighed and pulled the wig off. “I was just thinking if they saw, let’s say Nolan, they’d empty the house of a few extra guys. But I wouldn’t want to make them a target, you know?”

  “Right.” Grant nodded, but he was still looking at her funny.

  “What?” It was her turn to ask.

  A slow smile spread across his face. “I’m surprised is all. You’ve picked up a few things.”

  And just like that Melody’s irritation with him was back. Hot sex and feelings only solved part of their problem. He was still very much a stranger to her.

  “Grant?” She braced her hand against the kitchen counter. “Just what do you think I did before coming to work for Aegis Group?”

  Melody had intended to keep this information to herself, at least until Grant asked her. After working with the team for this long she was prepared to brave their opinions of her work history. She’d just wanted him to show some interest in her beyond sex, the job and the little time they spent together. But he never had.

  “Uh, didn’t you do public relations for a company?” His brow furrowed.

  She knew he didn’t know. He’d never asked and Zain had vowed to keep her secrets. The only other person who knew was Merida, and she was even more trustworthy than Zain.

  Melody kept watching Grant, his face contorting as he tried and failed to find an answer.

  “I used to be a cop. Not just a cop. I was a hostage negotiator. I was trained for situations like this. I’m probably even more qualified to deescalate this situation than you are.” She threw her hands up. “You know what? This is why we aren’t working out. You don’t care. Not about me, who I am, just what I can do for you. There isn’t one of you who has ever asked me about my past or why I picked this job. I’m scenery to you, except when you want a fuck.”

  Tears she did not want pricked her eyes.

  Last night she’d reveled in the words she’d wanted to hear, how he made her feel, and completely forgotten all the other reasons they were wrong for each other.

  This relationship wasn’t going to work. There wasn’t enough super glue to hold them together. She couldn’t pry his heart open and make him truly care about her. Once again, she was making the same mistake over, and over, and over again.

  Well this time it was well and truly over.

  Melody would not be Grant’s dirty secret.

  GRANT STARED AT MELODY, her revelation hitting him like a bunch of rocks.

  She’d been a cop? His Button?

  She was maybe five foot five and if he had to guess somewhere around one-hundred-and-twenty pounds. They let people that petite be cops? He honestly didn’t know.

  Had Zain mentioned that?

  Grant honestly couldn’t say. The introductory meeting had been a blur. He had some vague impression that Melody had handled PR for a few different companies. She’d never talked about her old jobs, just like she didn’t talk much about anything. She didn’t share, never let anyone in. And this was somehow his fault?

  She made a disgusted sound and spun away from him.

  “Wait.” Grant grabbed her by the wrist and spun her back around to face him.

  Her glare was full of anger.

  He let go of her and held his hands up. “How was I to know that when you never tell me anything?”

  “Never tell you anything?” Each word built up heat until he felt the full blast of her anger. “How about you never showing any interest in who I am outside the bedroom or apart from work? You treat me like...like a robot that gets turned off and put away when you don’t need me. I have a life, Grant. I’m more than your sex toy.”

  What. The. Fuck?

  Where was this coming from?

  He shoved his hand over his head, knocking the cap off and onto the floor. “I never said you were. Hell, how is it my fault you never open up and share anything with me?”

  “We never talk, Grant. That’s my point. We’re strangers.” She took a step closer. “What’s my favorite movie?”

  “Uh...” He visualized her movie collection. “Princess Bride.”

  “Wrong. What’s my favorite ice cream?”

  That was easier. They’d grabbed ice cream a few weeks ago. “Cookie dough.”

  “No, that’s yours. What’s my favorite color?”

  Grant began to sweat. He thought he knew this one, but now he wasn’t certain. “Maroon?”

  “Wrong. These are basic questions, Grant. What do we know about each other? Really?”

  That wasn’t fair. He might not know those specific things, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care. “You know what I do know about you?”

  She tilted her chin up.

  He took a step closer and leaned down a bit. “You’re an intensely private person. You don’t let just anyone in.”

  “I let you in, and you didn’t care.”

  “The hell I don’t.” I love you. Now wasn’t the time to put that out there. She wouldn’t believe him.

  Melody held up her hands and took a step away from him. “Whatever. We have a job to do and arguing about who cares how much isn’t going to help Riley and Brenden.”

  That was a point he couldn’t argue with.

  “This isn’t over.” Grant turned and stalked toward the balcony where he could glimpse the house at the corner.

  He didn’t know every event in Melody’s life, but he still knew—and loved—her. When they got home, when they were safe, he was going to show her that.

  Grant took a deep breath, gathered all his frustration into a mental ball and squeezed it down tight to deal with later. He peered at the building and the three men he could see from this angle.

  They didn’t have a lot of time and they still didn’t have a concrete plan.

  Whoever these people were, their team couldn’t be that big. Grant and Melody had killed at least four who’d come to the house yesterday. According to Nolan, they thought another one or two had died during their skirmish on the street. There’d been maybe six at the hospital yesterday. If those men were still out there and there were the four to eight Melody estimated at the house, how many more could there be?

  Grant cleared his throat. “We should set a trap, lure them into it and make a trade. Our people for theirs.”

  “Are we sure these men aren’t disposable?” Melody countered.

  “You think we’re going to get into that house without a fight?” He glanced at her standing at the window a little distance from him.

  She sighed. “No.”

  “Any other plan?”

  “Not really. Breaking into the house counts on a sizeable distraction.”

  “Which we don’t currently have any way of making.”

  She glanced at him then. “How much C4 do we have?”

  “Not a lot. Four pounds?”

  She snorted. “Not a lot?”

  “What other plan do we have? Even if all we do is thin their numbers, it’s something.”

  Her mouth compressed into a tight line. “Okay. Let’s make it happen.”

  That was easier said than done.

  “Any idea how we do that?” she asked.

  “Nothing that doesn’t sound crazy. You?”

  “I think all we’ve got going for us is crazy.” She turned to face him. “It makes more sense for you to be available to go in if baiting them away doesn’t work.”

  “You want to be bait?” Grant wasn’t so sure he liked this plan now.

  “I’m fast and if I need to get away, I can fit places they can’t.”

  Inwardly he wrestled with the urge to tell her no, that she was going to sit here and wait. She’d done a lot of that since hooking up with their team. However, if she was telling him the truth about her past, then it was a disservice to her and them. She’d never given him cause to doubt her. He wasn’t going to start now.

  “Okay,” he said slowly.

>   She arched a brow at him. “How much did that hurt?”

  “I’m trusting that you’re being honest with me about your abilities. I’ve never known you to embellish the truth. Do I want you to be at risk? No. I’m never going to like it. Can I deal with it? Yeah.”

  Melody blinked at him a few times.

  His answer had surprised her.

  Well, good. He was sick of surprises.

  “Okay, Team Leader, let’s do this,” she said.

  Yeah, he hated this plan.

  9.

  Friday. Ibiza Town, Ibiza.

  Melody stared down at their hostages. The first poor soul who’d been stupid enough to follow her. She’d walked straight up to the guy, flirted, touched his arm and the man had gone with her.

  Grant had come out of nowhere and clocked the hell out of the guy so hard she’d thought he was dead.

  Their second hostage hadn’t gone down as easy. He’d seen where his friend had gone, followed and though Melody and Grant thought they were ready for him, they hadn’t been. They’d taken a bit of a beating before getting the best of the guy.

  The third they’d grabbed on his way back to the house, catching him completely unaware.

  They all had those pills on them.

  “I can’t understand what they’re saying.” She held out the hand-held radio to Grant.

  He shook his head. “I’m not going to understand either.”

  “Is this enough?” She glanced at their prisoners sitting bound on the garage floor of the vacation house. It was hard to gauge the worth of a man she didn’t know to a bad guy she’d never met.

  Grant grimaced, clearly no more assured than she was. “Maybe?”

  Melody feared they were going to have to do a lot more than just kidnap a few people to make this exchange happen. If she were thinking clearer, if she could accept the risk, she might try to hold the guy’s attention while Grant snuck in and rescued their team.

  It sucked not having more back-up. She knew Grant had to be feeling it. While she was accustomed now to working alone, he always had four men at his back.

  Grant nodded at the radio in her hand. “Go on. Let’s get this started.”

  “Are you going to let me handle this?” She stared at him, not quite ready to believe he would relinquish control.

  “You’re the negotiator.”

  “This isn’t going to be fast.”

  “I know. Just, do what you can.”

  Color her surprised.

  She lifted the radio to her face and squeezed. “I’d like to speak to who is in charge.”

  Melody let go of the button and they listened to the crackling silence for several seconds.

  “Who is this?” a man asked. His English was good, accented, but clear.

  She swallowed, licked her lips then replied. “This is Melody Nguyen, but you already know that. Who am I speaking to?”

  “The man who has your friends,” the man replied.

  She grimaced. Whoever this was, he wanted her to know he thought he was in charge. “Is that so? Can I speak to them? Can you prove that my friends are there?”

  She glanced up at Grant. There was always the chance that Riley and Brenden were dead and they were risking themselves for nothing. Proof of life would help determine their path.

  Grant mouthed, Good job, at her and crossed his arms over his chest.

  Melody’s lowered the radio and focused on Grant for a moment. “He knows we’re close. That we have a radio. He might send people out to look for us.”

  “I’ll keep watch.” Grant went to the small window that looked out on the narrow lane granting access to the garages behind the condos. He turned his body and she knew he was watching both the road and her.

  “You may not speak to your friends,” the man on the other end of the radio finally said.

  “Really?” Melody crossed to the bound men. She tried to not let the refused request get her down. This man wasn’t a novice. She had to remember that whoever he was, he had people and resources, which meant he was likely a professional. “That’s a shame because I’m sitting here with your friend. What’s your name? Anyone? Names?”

  All three men remained silent.

  “What is it you want, Melody Nguyen?” The man sounded bored, maybe a little amused. He was overly confident, that was for sure.

  “I want a trade. Your men for our friends.”

  “And what of the man you call Ethan Turner?”

  Melody’s eyes went wide. She pulled the radio away and stared at it.

  Ethan?

  The man they’d rescued? The one that was hardly human?

  “I’ll return your two friends for Ethan Turner,” the man replied.

  She looked at Grant who was scowling back at her. He shook his head.

  Melody knew without asking that she couldn’t agree to those terms.

  There was no way they were going to do that. Ethan had been a prisoner for years. God only knew what the Lebanese had done to him to make him forget who he was, his wife, even his kid.

  “Well, Ethan isn’t here with us. He can’t really participate in this exchange.” Somehow Melody managed to keep an even tone.

  “But you know where he is,” the man said.

  “No, actually, I don’t. So I’m incapable of giving you what you want.” Melody cringed inwardly. Did they really want to admit that? “Why don’t we talk about what we can do for each other?”

  “I’ve got movement,” Grant said. He flattened against the wall.

  She held the radio away from her.

  “If this guy has brought all these people here, to go after us, he knows Ethan isn’t with us.” It all clicked. “This isn’t about us giving him Ethan. It’s about him getting us to get Ethan.”

  Grant met her gaze.

  This was a bad idea.

  They’d been out played before they’d made their first move.

  “We have to get out of here. Now,” she said.

  “Not going to happen without a distraction.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Go back into the kitchen. Get me half a pound of C4.” Grant pulled a curtain across the window, blocking their view out but also anyone else from looking in.

  She hoofed it into the main part of the house, Grant following after her.

  “Melody?” the man asked, his tone hitting notes of pleasure. “Why don’t we discuss what we can do for each other in person?”

  “He knows where we’re at.” She grimaced.

  “Good, that means we’ll get the most bang for our buck.” Grant ripped tape and wielded a pair of pliers, creating something with a tiny bit of plastic explosive. “Keep him talking.”

  Melody put whatever Grant was doing out of her mind and focused on their new contact. She cleared her throat and calmly said, “I’m not really a face-to-face girl. Have you reconsidered allowing me to speak to my friends? Or did you kill them and now have no leverage? That’s what it sounds like to me.”

  “There.” Grant set the device down next to the far wall of the garage.

  It looked like a bomb.

  She swallowed. Were they really going to do this? Set off a bomb and kill these people?

  “Melody?” a rough, familiar voice said.

  She sucked down a breath.

  Brenden.

  His voice had never quite healed from the trauma he’d survived during his time as a POW. It wasn’t that long ago that he’d gone under cover as another hostage.

  “Brenden, hey. How are you?” she managed to get out.

  “Green, three-two, ready—” Riley’s snarl of a voice was cut off.

  “You have your proof, Ms. Nguyen, now I want my man back,” the as of yet unnamed man said.

  Melody ignored the man and focused on Grant. “Green, three, two, ready—what?”

  “He sees something green. There are three armed men, two we shouldn’t worry about. And they’re ready to go, I think.” Grant picked up his bomb and took it
to the other side of the house, the very far corner. “This should just make a lot of noise.”

  “Are we really doing this?” She pictured a dozen different accidents.

  A man yelled and something hard hit the garage door.

  “They’re here. Come on.” Grant bent and grabbed the bags of gear. He pulled out a familiar silver canister, yanked the pin out and threw it into the open doorway into the garage. Then another.

  Melody bolted for the front door, Grant on her heels.

  They rushed out onto the quiet street. There wasn’t any traffic, no people. Nothing.

  Grant sprinted diagonally away from the house.

  How long was the fuse? Would they clear the house in time?

  They darted into an alley as the boom shook the windows up and down the street. She felt the concussion blast sweep through her

  It was done.

  FRIDAY. LIMAN’S HEADQUARTERS, Ibiza Town, Ibiza.

  Liman flinched as the video feeds went fuzzy. The glass panes rattled in the casements and everyone in the room turned to face the direction of the explosion.

  For several moments Liman just stared.

  That had gone vastly out of control.

  His initial assessment indicated that the men known as Vaughn and Brenden would be the ones to put up the biggest fight. It was why they’d staged that first hit the way they had, to catch those two unaware. Everything Liman had on this woman and Grant Anderson indicated they were capable, but not as deadly or problematic as the others.

  Whoever had made that report was going to lose their job.

  Liman stared around the room. “What are you all waiting for? Someone go find them. I want their bodies. And I want everyone on their stims. Now.”

  Fuck.

  What was the body count at now?

  Five, possibly six if the one upstairs didn’t pull through, Liman could explain away. There were always casualties. Given that these men were also part of their program, testing the enhancement drugs, if Liman didn’t come back from this with Ethan Turner he was in real trouble.

  He turned to look at his two prisoners. The men were bruised and bound, but alive.