Rogue protector, p.13
Rogue Protector, page 13
His fingers slide into my hair, and the intimate gesture sends me over the edge, my tears spilling down my cheeks as I fight to keep breathing.
I almost lost something I never knew I was looking for. Something real. Something I’m now desperate to hold onto. “I’m sorry. So sorry…” I manage between sobs.
“Shhh, sweetheart. You don’t have anything to apologize for. Just promise me one thing.” He eases back slightly so he can hold my gaze. “No more secrets, okay?”
I nod, and in that moment, my entire world rights. It doesn’t matter that the poachers have my driver’s license, passport, and credit cards. That they’re still free…somewhere. That I almost died twenty-four hours ago. All that matters is what’s right in front of me.
“No more secrets.”
Chapter Sixteen
Austin
Detective Chavez and his partner drive us to a hotel a few kilometers away from where we’d been staying and accompany us to the front desk.
“For tonight,” Chavez tells the clerk as he pulls a business card from his pocket, “You can send the bill to me. Two rooms—“
“One,” Mikayla and I say at the same time. Thank God I don’t have to convince her to let me stay with her. I’ll sleep on the couch. Hell, in front of the fucking door. I’m not leaving her side while those assholes are free.
“One room then,” Chavez says and scribbles something on the back of his business card and passes it to the clerk. “Please put them on the same floor as Li Chen and Isaiah Williams. A uniformed officer will be patrolling that floor tonight.” Turning to me, he offers me his hand. “Major General Pritchard, Dr. Salim. It is late. We will call you in the morning with what we have been able to learn about these two men.”
“Our things, Detective?” I ask. We’re both filthy and bloody, and more than anything, Mikayla needs to feel like herself again.
“When the Hotel Centro learned the students were kidnapped from their loading dock, they became very…uncooperative. I am going there myself now to speed things along. We may not have your things until morning, but we have officers at the hotel now, and we will not allow anyone to enter your rooms.”
Mik doesn’t respond, and from the look on her face…she’s so worn out, so mentally and physically drained, I need to get her into bed before she topples over.
“Just do what you can. We’ve been in these clothes for two full days.”
Chavez gives me a curt nod, and his officer leads us to a fourth-floor suite and bids us goodnight.
I clear the living area, bedroom, bathroom, and two closets while Mik stands just inside the door, totally silent. “It’s all good, sweetheart. Come with me.” Leading her into the bathroom, I turn on the hot water in the shower, then lift her up onto the counter.
Steam fills the room as I kneel in front of her and unlace her boots. Once I have the brace off and set it down next to her, I push to my feet and shove my hands into my pockets. It’s either that or touch her, hold her, and I don’t think she’s ready for that. “There’s a robe on the back of the door. Can you manage with that ankle?”
“Y-yes. I’ll be okay,” she whispers. Her cheeks flush, and she stares at her knees, her khaki pants torn and stained, like she’s seeing them for the first time. “I don’t…we don’t have any clothes.”
“I’ll call down and see if the hotel has anything available. If not, we’ll live in the robes tonight. First thing in the morning, I’ll get us a flight to Maryland.” Brushing my knuckles along her cheek, I wait for her to look up at me. “We’re safe now, sweetheart. As safe as I can make us. If you want me to stand guard at the door all night, I will. Otherwise, I’ll take the couch.”
She watches me as I leave, and dammit. I wish I could say something—do something—to reassure her. With no clue how to fix what the past few days have broken in her, I call the front desk, then rummage in the closet and find a spare set of sheets, a blanket and a pillow to make up the couch.
Every muscle in my body aches, and I’m tempted to lie down right now, but I wasn’t kidding. I’ll sit up all night, stand guard, if that’s what she needs. Plus, I smell like the ass end of a burned-out garbage truck.
The water turns off, and I lay my hunting knife on the table next to the couch, then dig through my ruck for my phone. Battery’s mostly dead, but once it’s plugged in, I fire off a quick text to Trevor.
What would it take to get a flight from San Cristóbal de las Casas to Maryland? One that doesn’t go through channels? Four passengers. I’m fine. Don’t worry Dani.
He replies in under a minute.
Explain. Right fucking now.
I should have known. He won’t let this go and while I have no doubt he’s already on the phone to Dax or Ryker making arrangements, he’ll let me twist in the wind until I give him a halfway acceptable answer.
Met someone in trouble. That’s all I can say tonight. Need you to trust me. If we have to fly commercial, we’ll be stuck here for days waiting on passport replacement. Going dark for the night, but text me in the morning.
I’ll catch all kinds of shit for this when we get back to the States. Hell, if he waits much after sunrise to demand answers, it’ll be a fucking miracle.
Five minutes later, my phone vibrates on the table. “Trevor, you better not expect me to answer you,” I mutter as I check the screen.
A Cessna Citation Sovereign, N354TV, will arrive at the San Cristóbal airport tomorrow at 13:00. It takes off for Baltimore no later than 17:00. Be on it. And you’re going to explain everything. In person. No more than twenty-four hours after you land. Even if I have to drive down there myself. Got it?
I haven’t felt like laughing in two days. But I chuckle as I thumb out a reply.
Crystal, Superman. I owe you.
The little dots on screen dance for a few seconds, and one final message pops up.
No. My ledger’s going to be red for the rest of my life. But that’s a discussion for another time.
Mikayla
A shower has never felt so good. For the first time in…I don’t even know how long—I’m warm, and I don’t smell of mud and sweat and soot and blood.
After I dry myself off and belt the robe tightly, I shove my clothes into the trash. My wrists are still red and a little raw from the zip tie, and every step—even after I put the ankle brace back on—hurts, but I’m alive, and Austin’s on the other side of that door.
I almost found the words to ask him to shower with me. They were there. Pinging around in my brain. But though I’m almost forty years old, I can’t just forget how my parents raised me. No swearing. No casual sex. No revealing clothing.
If this were a normal relationship, I’d know what to do. Despite my parents’ wishes, I’m not a virgin. I’ve slept with three guys since college. Each one of them, I thought I might be on my way to loving. That’s always been my rule. If I care for the man, if I think I might love him one day, then I’ll take that plunge.
With Austin, there’s no question in my mind. I care for him. More than I’ve cared for anyone in a long time. But do I love him? Or are all these confusing feelings a result of almost dying?
A small toiletry kit in the bathroom affords me the chance to brush my teeth, and when I limp out to the main room, Austin’s staring out a one-inch gap in the drapes.
“Hey,” I say quietly. “Bathroom’s yours.”
When he turns, his gaze softens, and the corners of his lips twitch into what might almost be a smile. “You look…stunning.”
“I’m exhausted and wearing a white bathrobe. Are you sure you don’t need a CT scan? I’m really starting to worry about your eyesight.”
He chuckles, the tension leaving his shoulders, and for the first time since this whole mess started, I think…maybe things will be okay.
“I don’t need a doctor, sweetheart. Just a shower. The concierge sent up t-shirts and shorts. I guess they keep some on hand for guests who don’t realize this place has a full gym. Yours are in the bag on the bed. The door’s double-locked, and I wedged a chair in front of it. No one’s getting in here tonight.” On his way to the bathroom with a folded set of clothes under his arm, he pauses and takes my hand. “My wallet’s on the desk. If you’re hungry, order up some room service.”
“I don’t think anything would stay down. But what about you?” I ask. “That granola bar at the hospital couldn’t have been enough for you.”
“I’m a guy. I can always eat. But I’d be just as happy falling asleep on that couch there and not seeing another soul until morning. I’ll be out in just a few minutes.”
I want him to kiss me, but he doesn’t. Probably because he still smells like sweat and smoke and death. Or maybe it’s because we’re safe, and he’s as unsure as I am.
As soon as the shower turns on, I open the bag and pull out the gray t-shirt and shorts emblazoned with the hotel’s logo. The shirt isn’t exactly loose, the shorts not overly tight, and I have no bra or panties, but it still feels so wonderful to be wearing something clean, I don’t care.
The king-sized bed feels empty with all this space next to me, and I prop myself up against the pillows and wait until Austin emerges from the bathroom, his dark brown hair damp and tousled, and his face clean—other than the three-day growth of stubble. With all the soot and dirt, I hadn’t even noticed.
“What’s wrong?” he asks as he sinks down onto the couch and rubs a hand towel over his hair. “I figured you’d be passed out by now.”
“I…you don’t need to sleep over there.” I chew on my lower lip, clutching the blankets just under my breasts. “I’d feel better if you weren’t so far away.”
Austin’s at my side in three steps, but he doesn’t get under the covers, just sits next to my hip. “Mik, you have no idea how badly I want to sleep with you. Even if it’s just sleep…for now.” He grins, and my cheeks flush red hot. “But are you sure?”
“Yes.” I don’t know where this boldness comes from, but I’m going with it. In my professional life, I kick butt regularly. With men? I fumble around like they’re hot potatoes. Covered in bees.
He nods, his expression turning serious, and rounds the bed. “If you’re uncomfortable—“
“Austin.” I pull back the blankets and pat the mattress next to me. “You’ve been nothing but a perfect gentleman from the moment I met you. Stop.”
“Being a gentleman?” He chuckles as he lies down next to me, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, and when he pulls the sheet over him, it tents more than a little. “I want you, sweetheart. I can’t tell you how difficult it was to keep my…err…”
“Hard on?” I supply.
“That’s one term for it.” His laugh is so relaxed here in this room where no one can find us. “But I was going to say ‘dick.’”
I look down, wishing I’d kept the robe on. My nipples are tight and hard under the t-shirt, and warmth blooms in my core.
“When we get back to the States, I hope you’ll be willing to go on a proper date with me. And after that…maybe we can talk about the next step.” Austin urges me onto my side next to him and wraps his arm around my waist. His lips find my ear, and goosebumps race down my arms as he scores his teeth over the sensitive skin. “I’ve never met anyone as strong as you, Mikayla. I want to see where this goes. Because I think it could be somewhere amazing.”
“It already is.”
His whole body vibrates as a low, possessive sound rumbles through his chest. “When I came down to Mexico, I wanted to get away from everyone and everything. Pretend for just a little while that I wasn’t a fucked up asshole who…”
“Hey.” I wriggle until I’m facing him and cup his cheek. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
“Tomorrow.” He shakes his head, buries his face in my neck, and inhales deeply. “After we’ve slept. Had more of a meal than an MRE and that hospital-issued granola bar.”
“We’re here now. Together.”
“And we’ll be together tomorrow too,” he says. “Just…be patient with me for another day. It’s not a good story, and the idea of telling you here, when everything’s so raw? I can’t. For you or for me.”
The strain in his voice worries me. This isn’t the strong, confident hero I’ve started to fall for. This is a man with secrets. With a past. With ghosts more terrible than I can imagine haunting him. Though after the past two days, my imagination is a lot more…vivid than it ever used to be.
“I’ll be here, Austin.” I kiss him, savoring the feel of his full lips, the way he wraps his body around mine, even the hard length of him pressing against me. “I’ll be right here.”
Austin
The nightmare’s always the same. I know the room. Even six years later, every detail is seared into my memory.
I’m alone in the dark. Bound to a chair, duct tape gagging me, something tied over my eyes so tightly, no light penetrates.
I can’t feel my hands, but every single cut Gil’s made over the past two days burns with its own terrible fire. My chest. Abs. Back. All the way down my leg. He laughs from somewhere behind me.
Not alone. Fuck.
Gil claps a hand on my shoulder, digging his fingers into one of the deeper cuts. “Smile for the camera, brother.”
Hostage video. I have to do something. Trevor will see this, and I can’t let him come rescue me. Gil’s lost it. Whatever his birth father did to him, said to him…the boy I grew up with is gone. The man he is now? Doesn’t give a fuck about anyone unless his daddy says so.
Gil’s footsteps recede, there’s a beep, and then he returns to my side.
“You shouldn’t have sent him, Trevor. I know all of his secrets. I grew up knowing them. Just like yours. You can’t stop me. La justicia está de mi lado!”
Something hits my thigh, and for a split second, I don’t register what it is. But then the pain lances through my leg, and I can’t stifle my strangled scream as I thrash against the ropes holding me to the chair.
When we were kids, Gil excelled at knot tying. I think that was his favorite badge in the Scouts. And the one time I let him test his knots on me—not long after I’d graduated from the Air Force Academy, there was no escape. I had to promise him fifty bucks to let me go. He’s better than anyone.
“Pull all of your American agents out of Venezuela by the end of the week, or I’ll send Perfect Pritchard back to you in pieces,” Gil says, his voice an odd mix of fury and glee as I shake my head as hard as I can, the only signal I can give Trevor. Or anyone. A beep sounds once more, and then he grabs my hair and pulls my head back, exposing my throat.
The knife he presses to my Adam’s apple is sticky with the blood from my thigh. “All you had to do was walk away, Austin. Walk away and let me do my own thing. But no. You came after me. Regretting that now, aren’t you?”
I can’t answer him. Not through the duct tape. But no. I don’t regret a fucking thing. Gil’s a traitor to his country, to the CIA, and to his own family. The one that took him in. Adopted him. Loved him. Worst of all, he turned on his own sister.
The pressure from the blade disappears, and a second later, pain explodes across the back of my skull. All sounds fade into a dull roar, and I wish I could tell Trevor not to come. That I’m already dead. Gil’s going to kill me. Soon.
“Austin?” Cool hands run down my arms, and her fingers are so delicate and gentle, I start to pull myself back from the depths of my nightmare. “Wake up, Danger.”
I groan her name and pull her against me, relishing her curves, the way she molds her body to mine. The faint light seeping in around the privacy curtains halos her face, making her look like an angel. My angel. “Shit. What time is it?”
“A little after eight.”
“Was I…saying anything?” I don’t want to have this conversation until we’re back in the United States, but from her tone…she’s not going to cut me much slack.
“‘Gil.’” Mikayla snuggles closer, laying her head on the pillow so we’re facing one another.
Change the subject.
Except I promised her. That after we slept, we’d talk. “Mik, my brother…”
Before I can admit my truth, my phone vibrates on the nightstand, and I roll over and check the screen.
“Detective Chavez. What can I do for you?”
Mikayla wriggles closer so she can listen in, and I put the phone on speaker.
“Corey Larkin is still in a medically-induced coma, but we searched his hotel room, and under the mattress, we found a slip of paper with the full names of the two individuals who attacked Dr. Salim. We have not located them yet, but we will.”
“What does that mean for us? Is there any reason Dr. Salim and I need to stay in Mexico? We’d like to return to the United States this afternoon if possible.”
“We may have more questions,” the detective says, “but as long as you and Dr. Salim make yourselves available as needed, there is no reason you cannot go home. I can reach you at this number?”
“Yes.”
“And Dr. Salim?”
Mikayla clears her throat. “My phone was destroyed. But I’ll get a new one when I get home.” She rattles off the number, and the detective thanks us and wishes us well.
I toss the phone back on the nightstand and link our fingers. “Want to go home, sweetheart?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
Chapter Seventeen
Austin
One of the local Policia knocks on our door only a few minutes after Detective Chavez ends the call. “Your luggage, señor.”
I came to Mexico with only my rucksack, but before I left to find Mikayla, I’d dumped half of it onto the bed to lighten my load. Whoever packed up my room shoved everything into a Hotel Centro duffel bag. I hope they got it all.
But beyond that, there’s only a single, rolling suitcase.
“You pack light, sweetheart,” I say when Mik shuffles out of the bathroom, moving too slowly, too carefully for my liking. She’s in pain, and I hate that I can’t do anything for her.
