“What are you doing out here?” she queried.
“Same as you,” he said. “Enjoying the extra elbow room.”
“Bliss, isn’t it? Your mom is covering for me.” She gathered her hair up in her hands, lifting it off her neck and sighing a little.
His pulse stuttered and he couldn’t seem to pull in enough air. It was like the drowning drills in SEAL training, but way more rewarding. Her purely casual move wasn’t a deliberate temptation, yet the way her dress gathered and dipped across her sumptuous curves made it an alluring display.
The devil dancing on his shoulder taunted him, dared him to reach over and caress that vulnerable nape of her neck. He shoved his hands into his pockets. Hell, he didn’t even know if she was seeing anyone. Which was irrelevant. He couldn’t give into this strange, amped-up attraction. He liked her, respected her. She deserved more than a temporary fling with him, a man whose only art was war.
“From what I hear, that kind of crush is a good problem to have,” he said.
“Crush?” she echoed. “Oh, sure. My agent is thrilled by the turnout.” She let her hair tumble down, her hands falling limp at her sides. “What I wouldn’t give to get out of here early.”
“Why?” He was genuinely curious. “You’re the star. Even the snobs are praising you.”
She plucked at the front of her dress, fanning herself. “You know I’ve never liked being the center of attention.”
No, she hadn’t. Her tendency to avoid attention had been a foreign concept to him when they were young. He and Luke had always been striving to keep up with or outdo their older siblings. “After tonight, I think you’d better get used to it. You’re a celebrity waiting to happen.”
“Maybe,” she said with more than a little regret. “I might be the only person desperate to avoid my fifteen minutes of fame.” Her gaze locked with his. “If you tell Marisol or anyone else I said that, I’ll deny it to my dying breath.”
He laughed. Charlotte was definitely a habitual good girl. “Anything I can do to help?” He’d step up and be her buffer—as a friend.
She tipped her head back again, her hands on her hips as she studied the inky sky above. “Yes.”
He took a step closer. “Name it.”
“Buy out the gallery so I can go home and get some sleep?”
Her warm smile dazzled him. The urge to agree was on the tip of his tongue and it had nothing to do with helping a family friend. He had a crazy, primal motive to please her, body and soul. Mark mentally took a step back, rattled by this sudden, pressing response. How had a few random thoughts led him here?
“Relax, I’m kidding.” She smoothed her hands over her dress. “It’s good to have your support. Good to see you,” she said, pacing away. When she turned back, she was nibbling on her lip. “Did you see a painting you liked? Wait.” She waved her hands as if she could erase the words. “Don’t answer. It’s not a fair question.”
Her nerves were climbing, giving Mark pause. She wasn’t the type to fish for compliments, though he was flattered she might want his opinion of her work. How to answer without gushing and embarrassing them both? “You have one with the view of the ocean from a cliff,” he began. “Several, actually,” he added. “But I’m talking about the smaller one in the series.” He held his hands about a yard apart. “That would—”
“You saw a whole series?” she interrupted.
“Yes.” The way she stared at him, as if she didn’t quite recognize him, raised a prickle along the back of his neck. Maybe he’d been wrong and the biggest canvas and the smaller paintings weren’t all variations from the same setting. He barreled on anyway. “The painting I mentioned reminds me of sunsets in Monterrey,” he explained.
“Most people don’t realize that’s the same setting,” she said. “They take one look at my headshot and decide my wild mermaid hair is the origin of an ocean fixation.”
Mermaid hair. He liked that. The description suited her. “You shouldn’t trust people who don’t like the ocean.”
“Says the Navy SEAL who started out as an army brat.” She laughed, the merry sound washing over him as sweet and light as the stars winking overhead.
It would’ve been nice to kiss her, to taste the bright energy surging through her. Charlotte was oh, so tempting, but his mother was right. He was all wrong for her. All he could offer any woman at this point was a fling with an eventual end date. His career came with serious pressures and so far, he couldn’t seem to hold a woman’s loyalty and trust.
Kissing Charlotte would only twist things up within the family. This burst of attraction would pass. Tonight was an anomaly, something wonderfully intriguing about seeing her as an accomplished woman. She was familiar to him and yet brand-new. He wanted desperately to take her hand, to feel the strength and tenderness that must be an integral part of how she transferred those dynamic scenes to the canvas. “We should get you back inside.”
Her lips parted, but the reply was cut off by the noisy rumble of a heavy engine approaching. Immediately, he went on alert. Who would be coming down this alley at this hour at that speed? Something wasn’t right.
He turned, blocking Charlotte from view as two men jumped from the rear door of a cargo van at the end of the alley. Both were dressed in black from head to toe, with black ball caps pulled low, shielding their faces.
“Mark Riley?” the man in the lead asked. He was lean compared to his barrel-chested partner.
To Charlotte, Mark whispered, “Go back inside.” To the slim man coming toward him, he said, “Who’s asking?”
“Come with us.” Slim approached while the second man remained with the vehicle, a handgun visible in a tactical holster at his belt. “There’s a security issue at the base and we need your assistance.”
That was a load of crap. He wasn’t active on any team right now. If there had been real trouble, his commander would’ve called him. “Show me an ID,” he demanded.
The leader reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun instead of a badge. Eaton’s men. Had to be. He started calculating how to get out of this without putting Charlotte in danger. She hadn’t moved.
“How can I help?” she whispered from behind him.
“Go find Dad or Matt,” he replied.
He kept his gaze on the leader’s gun while her high heels clicked rapid-fire against the pavement. She’d be clear in a few seconds. Instead of the door, he heard a startled scream. He swiveled around to see a man dressed in the catering uniform blocking the door to the gallery and holding a gun aimed at Charlotte.
Where in the hell was the security team?
Jumping forward, Mark caught Charlotte around the waist and twisted, shielding her before the waiter could take an accurate shot. “Stay close to me,” he ordered.
She tucked up behind him, her hands on his waist as he angled his body, putting her between him and the brick wall of the building. The odds favored the three armed men, but they couldn’t possibly want to open fire and draw more attention. The security patrol must have noticed the van. He expected backup any second now.
“Walk away while you can,” Mark said evenly to the aggressors. “Walk away and there won’t be anything to charge you with.”
The waiter and Slim advanced.
Mark swore under his breath. Charlotte couldn’t escape in either direction without going through at least one of the men who’d come for him. “Whatever Eaton’s paying you, I’ll double it if you leave now,” Mark offered, just to test the reactions.
None of the men reacted to the mention of Eaton’s name or the money—but who else would know his name and pull this kind of stunt? Being outnumbered didn’t faze him. Alone he’d take them down fast, but if Charlotte got hurt simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, he’d never forgive himself.
“Mark?” she queried.
“Trust me?”
<
br /> “Yes.”
That single confident syllable empowered him. Solutions rolled through his mind. He had to get her safely away.
“Into the van.” Slim motioned with his gun. “Both of you.”
“No,” Mark said. “I’ll come without a fight, as soon as you let her go back inside,” he countered.
Behind him, Charlotte gasped a denial.
“Come on.” He spread his hands. “She’s irrelevant and it’s her first solo showing. Have a heart.”
“Cooperate and we won’t kill her,” the waiter said, closing in from the side. “That’s heart.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Charlotte snapped, and brandished one of her high heels as a weapon.
Both the waiter and the leader closed in on them. Mark sized up his opponents and options. The fact that they’d not fired a shot told him they were afraid of drawing attention to themselves. They must have just figured he’d go along with their thin ruse. He would use their poor planning against them. Taking out the waiter gave Charlotte a path to escape. He lunged, grasping the waiter’s shirt. Hauling him close, he shoved him hard into the leader. The momentum knocked the gun from the waiter’s hand and blocked any shot the leader had.
“Run!” Mark barked at Charlotte, driving the men toward the alley opening to give her time to safely reach the gallery door.
The waiter recovered and came at Mark with lightning-fast punches and kicks. He recognized the type—a martial arts enthusiast with more confidence than sense. Blocking most of the blows, Mark lost his breath when a kick connected with his ribs. He had to twist under another flurry of flying limbs, and took a kick to the shoulder that would have knocked him out cold if it had landed on his jaw. He had to get on the offensive or he’d take a severe beating.
Where was the perimeter team? He wasn’t fighting off kidnappers in stealth mode out here. Mark now assumed the lack of response meant this crew had taken them out somehow. At least Charlotte would raise the alarm inside.
Seeing an opening, Mark shot out his leg and tripped the waiter, following the man to the ground as he fell. He used his size advantage, driving his knee into the man’s rib cage. The leader shouted and the waiter groaned, curling into himself protectively. Mark bounded to his feet to deal with the man in charge.
“Get in the van or I kill her right now,” Slim said in a snarl.
Mark spun around to see the man guarding the van had caught Charlotte while Mark was preoccupied with the fight. The guard had her pinned against the wall of the building with a meaty fist around her throat, the pressure clear by the pain etched on her face. Mark’s vision hazed red around the edges.
Charlotte’s eyes were brimming with tears. “Sorry,” she rasped. Barefoot, her toes reached for the ground while her fingers scraped at the man’s arm in her struggle to breathe.
Good grief. She’d gone on the attack, tried to help him fight, rather than run for safety. He could sort out why later. Right now, he had to make sure she didn’t suffer any further pain or humiliation.
“Move,” the leader demanded.
Mark held his ground. “Let her go.”
The leader fired once, the bullet slamming into the brick inches from Charlotte’s head. The blood iced in Mark’s veins. “We’re all going.” The man raised his gun again. “Will she be riding along dead or alive?”
Mark raised his hands, surrendering. He couldn’t win here without risking Charlotte. “Lead the way.” The man holding Charlotte hurried her into the van and Mark obediently followed.
She was shoved to the end of a bench and the guard cuffed her hands to a long chain looped around a bar bolted to the panel behind the bench. Mark was led farther down the bench and handcuffed the same way beside her. It was uncomfortable, but both of them could move the length of the bench and almost rest their hands in their laps.
The leader hauled the groaning waiter to his feet and dumped him in the back of the van, as well. Sliding the cargo door shut, he then climbed into the passenger’s seat up front while the guard took the driver’s seat. Moments later, they were speeding away from the gallery.
A clock started in Mark’s head as he gauged distance and direction. He had to bide his time. Mentally, he tallied every rough gesture or rude word Charlotte had endured, vowing to make each man pay.
From his place on the van’s floor, the waiter sat up, glaring at them as he recovered from Mark’s brutal tactics.
Next to him, Mark felt Charlotte’s body trembling, though her eyes were dry now and her jaw was set. “You wanted a way out of the evening,” he said to Charlotte, trying to distract her.
“This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” she murmured. “I’ll be more specific in the future.”
“Clarity is best,” he agreed, giving her a confident smile. “I’m betting our limo was once an ambulance. Maybe they’ll wind up the siren.” He wasn’t counting on it. As he scanned the vehicle, he also noted the interior door handles had been removed.
“Why are you so calm?” she wondered aloud, easing back to study his face.
He wished he could put his arm around her, give her real reassurance. “Because it’s too soon to panic,” he said breezily. “Would it help if I broke his nose?” He tipped his head toward the waiter.
“Shut up.” The man’s command held zero authority.
The driver jerked around a corner and Charlotte was tossed into him, landing on his battered shoulder. The cuffs jerked against her wrists and she cried out.
“You okay?” he asked, gritting his teeth against the spike of pain.
His anger was mounting over failing her and allowing the waiter to land some solid blows. He could score his lousy performance later; the pressing issue was finding a chance to get her out of here.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
“No worries,” he replied. He used his body to leverage her back into place so the cuffs wouldn’t tug on her hands. On the plus side, her supple body had been a warm and sweet distraction, if only for an instant. Under the silky dress, there had been strength to match the warrior-like spirit that compelled her to fight off gunmen with a shoe. He had to take the positives where he found them.
Mark waited for the next swerve and used the momentum to slam a foot into the waiter’s shin. “Whoops.”
He slid out of Mark’s reach. “Do it again and I’ll shoot you.”
“Yeah? With what gun?” Mark sneered. “Oh, that’s right. It’s back in the alley.” He gave Charlotte a smile. “Someone will find it soon. Marisol noticed you were gone ages ago. This crew is amateur hour. I’m sure security is already scouring the surveillance video.” Assuming the security team wasn’t incapacitated.
“I’ll take your word,” she said, her blue eyes full of worry.
Mark had to believe help wouldn’t be far behind. “You’re the star tonight, Lottie. They miscalculated when they brought you along.” He caught the waiter’s cringing reaction to that and pressed his point. “We can hang tough until the cavalry arrives.”
She snorted at his joke. “A SEAL rescued by the cavalry. I like it.”
“You would.” He was glad she saw the humor. There was a certain Riley pride in army service that he’d bucked by joining the navy. His twin, an army ranger, would never stop gloating about the best branch of Special Forces operators if Mark didn’t find a way out of this predicament.
* * *
Charlotte took great comfort in Mark’s steady presence and persistent humor. He wasn’t nearly as blithe about this situation as he seemed, but he wasn’t posturing or giving her useless platitudes either. Without him, she’d be panicking or dead. Her throat was tender from the grip of the guard who’d caught her and her cheek stung in several places where the brick had splintered when the leader had fired his gun in her direction. At least her ears had stopped ringing from that blast.
Ma
rk was right that Marisol would miss her. On more than one occasion at past appearances, her agent had tracked down Charlotte when she’d shied from the spotlight. She latched on to that ray of hope and refused to let it go.
She was more than scared, but she had to find her courage, find a way to be more than a weakness Mark had to worry about. Catching the waiter glaring at her again, her fingers twitched as she imagined sketching him in various vignettes and pieces.
“Easy,” Mark murmured.
She glanced up at him. “What?”
“I can almost hear you plotting his demise,” Mark said, loud enough to be heard. “I’m sure it’s a creative ending.”
He was far too observant. “Positively gory,” she admitted. Turning her attention toward more appealing topics, she studied the precise line of Mark’s short beard.
She’d drawn his profile and face countless times through the years. Though he’d caught her at it a time or two, he’d never said a word or given any indication of his thoughts. He’d be appalled if he knew how many sketchbooks she’d devoted to him. She found it fascinating the way he’d changed and matured from those sharp angles of his teens to the powerful elegance he sported this evening.
Mark and his twin brother, Luke, were identical, except for the location of the dimple, and the boys had used it to their advantage more than once. She’d never understood how they’d fooled anyone. Even as a girl, she had an innate tendency to focus on the details that made faces, even identical faces, different.
“Keep staring at me like that and I might catch fire,” he said. “You’re not thinking of my demise now?”
“Never.” She might not understand the full scope of what was happening, other than she seemed to have terrible timing tonight, but she knew she wouldn’t get out of this without him.
“Then what were you thinking about?”
Meeting his gaze, she saw the spark of humor in his brown eyes and the flicker of that dimple in his cheek. This was the flirtatious side of him that typically brought women in for a closer look. She understood the draw and thought again of that kiss she’d been hoping for.
Harlequin Romantic Suspense December 2020 Box Set Page 74
