Midnight Target

  Sully’s chest tightened. She was a pretty girl, not older than eighteen or nineteen. Her thin arms and legs were marred with bluish bruises, and she looked so unbelievably fragile standing there in nothing but her flimsy bra and panties. He wanted to rip off his jacket and wrap her up in it, shield her from the crude smiles of these men.

  And Liam was one of those crude men. Spreading his legs, he patted one knee and said, “Come here, darling.”

  She hesitated.

  “Go on,” Vega urged.

  Nobody in the room missed the steel in his tone.

  Visibly swallowing, Pia awkwardly settled on Liam’s knee. When he shifted slightly, she almost fell off, and her slender arms instantly wrapped around his neck for balance. Sully suspected Liam had done it on purpose.

  “Well, aren’t you a pretty little bitch,” Liam murmured, tracing her delicate jaw with his thumb.

  She shivered, and Sully knew damn well it wasn’t out of desire. When his friend curled a hand over her jaw and drew her face closer, her trembling intensified.

  It required serious effort to contain his repulsion as he watched Liam’s lips close over Pia’s rosebud mouth. The flash of tongue he glimpsed had him clenching both hands on his thighs. He breathed deeply in an attempt to calm himself, but it didn’t work, because Liam’s other hand was suddenly cupping one small tit. Then that brazen hand tugged the girl’s bra down, and when her breast popped free, Liam pinched her nipple between his fingers.

  Pia made a strangled sound of dismay, which summoned a chuckle from Liam and more raucous laughter from Vega.

  “Told you—hot little thing,” Vega teased.

  “Oh yeah.” Liam gave her breast one last squeeze, then smacked her hip as if she were an animal and ordered her off him.

  Pia shuddered with unmistakable relief as she darted back to the couch.

  “Shall we get back to business?” Vega said, his lips twitching.

  “I suppose.” Liam was grinning again. “Though I appreciate the distraction.”

  Vega clasped his hands on the table. His handgun lay inches from his right hand. Beside him, Bobby the enforcer was palming a silver Glock.

  Sullivan felt naked without his own weapon, but he wasn’t concerned about all the firepower he saw in the room. Along with Vega and Bobby’s pistols, he and Liam were dealing with assault rifles from the door guards and a deadly-looking hunting knife in the hand of the third man at the table. Another enforcer, Sully suspected.

  Didn’t matter, though. If it came down to it, he could disarm one of those fuckers in a heartbeat.

  “So what can the Barrios cartel do for you, Mac?”

  Liam reclined in his chair, the picture of relaxation. “Protection.”

  Vega chuckled. “You can buy rubbers at any bodega in the city. You don’t need us for that.”

  One of the guards snorted.

  “Not that kind of protection. As I mentioned, I have a new business venture. Jake and I are running a whorehouse in Toro.”

  Vega raised a brow. “Rivera’s territory? Are you fucked in the head?”

  “I didn’t realize Rivera had laid claim to Toro until the transaction had already been brokered. Needless to say, this is a clusterfuck,” Liam admitted. “The fuckers are playing power games with us, jacking up the price of protection and operating licenses.”

  Operating licenses? Sully swallowed a laugh. Well, fuck. Who woulda thought the cartels were so business savvy?

  “It’s fuckin’ extortion. Highway robbery,” Liam grumbled. “And I’m not putting up with that shit.”

  “I see. And what do you think I can do about it? Like I said, it’s Rivera’s territory.”

  “Then let’s make it Barrios territory,” Liam said carelessly.

  Vega looked startled. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I’m here to propose we eliminate a mutual threat.” Liam leaned forward, a feral glint in his eyes. “I want you to help me take out the Riveras.”

  A shocked silence fell over the room. Even the guards looked bewildered.

  Finally Vega answered, his voice slow and laced with interest, “And how would we do that?”

  “The Rivera Empire is already on shaky ground. Rivera Senior is dead. Word is his oldest son just got iced too. That means the younger son is in charge now—Benicio, who I’m told is a moron. How hard would it really be to eliminate him? And you know what happens when you cut off the snake’s head. The rest of Rivera’s people will either scatter or fight each other for power. The cartel will be in shambles.”

  Vega rubbed the stubble on his chin and repeated his earlier sentiment. “I’m intrigued.”

  “Good. I want you to be. So what do you say, Niko? You know I’ve got cash to spare. I’d be willing to part with some of it to hire a private military company if needed, trained mercs that could lay siege on those motherfuckers. Once Benicio and his lieutenants are eliminated, the Barrios cartel steps in and collects its spoils. You absorb what’s left of the Riveras, and your territory is doubled, if not tripled.”

  “What do you get out of it?” Vega asked coolly.

  “Sex.”

  “I’m flattered, but . . .”

  Liam rolled his eyes. “Fuck off. You know what I mean. I want exclusive rights to the sex trade in your territory and whatever territory you get from the Riveras. Whorehouses, brothels, gentlemen’s clubs—I want to be the only game in the market.”

  “I see,” Vega said again.

  “So? What do you think?”

  “What do I think . . .”

  As Vega trailed off thoughtfully, the tension returned to Sully’s body. It stretched his back, pinched the nape of his neck. Shit, that wasn’t good. As a soldier, he’d been trained never to ignore his instincts, and right now they were humming like a cheap air-conditioning unit.

  “I think that sounds like a very good plan,” Vega finished, smiling slightly. “And it’s a plan I would be happy to take to Isaac . . . if I trusted the man who was proposing it.”

  Liam’s features tightened. “What the fuck does that mean? You don’t trust me? Since when?”

  Vega’s smile widened.

  “You fuckin’ know me, Niko.” Liam’s tone grew increasingly incensed. “Have I ever screwed you over?”

  “No . . . Mac Mulligan has never screwed me over,” Vega relented. He paused, cocking one brow as he fixed Liam with a toxic look. “But I’m not so certain about Liam Macgregor.”

  Sully froze.

  Fuck.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  They’d been made.

  Chapter 21

  Liam could have faked astonishment. Maybe voiced a denial. But he knew when an op had been compromised, and he wasn’t one to waste time that could be used saving his own skin. Besides, men like Niko Vega weren’t the type to talk through their issues. No, Vega’s gun was already swinging upward, leaving Liam with very little time to react.

  Fortunately, he and Sully didn’t require more than a split second. One moment they were seated, the next they were diving in opposite directions, removing themselves as targets. As Liam slid onto the floor, he brought the third enforcer down with him, relieving the man of his knife.

  Then, with perfect accuracy, he hurled the blade and sent it flying into the center of Vega’s throat.

  A gruesome gagging noise echoed in the room. Liam vaguely registered a red arc spurting from Vega’s throat, but he was too busy taking cover to pay it much attention.

  Almost instantly, bullets started flying. Sharp rifle blasts cracked in the air. Casings pinged off the floor. Chunks of plaster broke off the walls, raining down on Liam’s head. He rolled over so that the enforcer’s back was pressed to his chest, providing himself with a human shield when Bobby Silva fired at him. Silva ended up putting two bullets in his colleague’s gut, and the muscular man j
erked on top of Liam like a fish out of water, crushing him to the floor.

  Breathing hard, he adjusted their angle so he could slip the man’s gun from his holster. As Silva fired another round, Liam pushed the enforcer off him, rolled again, and shot at Bobby’s kneecap.

  The big man staggered, his groan of pain slicing through the gunfire. From the corner of his eye, Liam saw a blur of motion. Gray wool and a flash of blond. Sullivan had disarmed the guard at the door, taken out the other one, and was now opening fire on the ones at the exit.

  The entire shoot-out lasted all of three seconds—the two guards dropped to the floor in a pool of blood at the same time that Liam blew Bobby’s head off.

  But the man whose knife and gun Liam had stolen wasn’t dead yet, and the motherfucker suddenly possessed superhuman strength even while bleeding out. Before Liam could blink, the enforcer flew forward on his knees and head-butted Liam’s forehead with enough force to make him see stars.

  Something wet dripped down his face, sliding over his cheek. He tasted copper in his mouth and realized he was bleeding. The asshole had split his eyebrow. Awesome.

  Fortunately, it didn’t matter how much rage-induced strength the bastard had. What he didn’t have was a weapon. Liam did. Two shots to the chest and one to the head, and the remaining Barrios thug crumpled to the dirty linoleum floor in a bloody heap.

  The only sounds remaining in the room were Liam’s steady breaths. Sullivan’s soft footsteps as he walked to the back door. And something else. Something that made Liam’s shoulders go rigid. Soft wheezing. Throaty gurgling. Terrified gasps.

  He glanced over and spotted Pia curled up in a ball on the couch. She was cradling her left arm, her bare skin soaked with blood.

  Liam shot to his feet and ran over to her, but his heart sank the moment he reached her. Those gurgling noises could only mean one thing—she’d been shot in the lung, probably from an errant bullet.

  “Boston,” came Sully’s sharp voice. “We gotta go.”

  “She’s hurt,” he called back. He dropped to his knees and gently moved her arm, cursing when he glimpsed the round bullet hole above her right breast.

  “Easy, darling,” he murmured in Spanish when she began to thrash and protest under his touch. “You’ll make it worse.”

  As she went still, he tipped her body forward and searched her shoulders and back for an exit wound, but there was none. The bullet was still inside her, most likely lodged in her lung.

  Fuck.

  “Boston,” Sully commanded.

  His helpless gaze traveled from his friend to the bleeding woman on the couch. She would die any second . . . or she would spend several more agonizing minutes drowning in her own blood, choking on it. Either way, she wasn’t going to make it.

  With regret that sliced right down to his bones, he slowly brought the Glock to her left temple. He stroked her cheek with his free hand, rubbed her bottom lip, smoothed her damp hair back. Then he peered into her brown eyes, which were growing unfocused by the second.

  “Close your eyes, darling,” he whispered.

  The words penetrated the state of agony she was in, because those delicate lids fluttered shut. After a beat, Liam closed his own eyes and pulled the trigger.

  He flinched at the gunshot, then froze for several seconds, inwardly condemning himself despite knowing that he’d done the right thing. He took a breath, reminding himself that the girl would’ve died regardless. At least he’d given her a painless death.

  Exhaling slowly, he got to his feet and hurried toward the door that Sullivan was holding open. When the two of them burst out into the dark alley, they were instantly joined by D and Ash.

  “You okay?” the rookie asked, focusing his concerned gaze on Liam’s face.

  He swiped at the blood again. “Fine. Got head-butted by an asshole.”

  “What happened in there?” D barked.

  “My cover was blown,” he ground out. “Someone must have tipped them off.”

  “DEA?”

  “No fuckin’ idea. Maybe DEA, maybe Rivera. Either way, Vega knew who I was. He knew we were playing him.”

  “Any loose ends?” D cocked his head at the door.

  “Nah, we took care of it,” Sully answered.

  D nodded, then swung around and took off walking. Without a word, they followed him to the edge of the alley, where two black Ducatis were waiting.

  “The others are already on their way back to the base,” Ash reported.

  Since Liam and Sully’s car was stashed two blocks away, Liam tapped D on the arm and said, “We’ll meet you at the rendezvous. Thanks for the assist.”

  “Not that we needed it,” Sully piped up. “Boston and I are superheroes, didn’t you know?”

  “Sure, Aussie, whatever you say.” Rolling his eyes, D swung a leg over one of the bikes, revved the engine, and then he was gone.

  Ash followed suit a moment later, chuckling as he sped off.

  Liam glanced at Sully and then they were on the move again. Not quite at a run, but a brisk pace, because who the fuck knew what was happening back at the nightclub. He doubted anyone had heard the shots over the music, but one of the guards on the main floor could be scheduled to check in with Vega at any second. Someone could be walking into that room right now, discovering the gory scene, and calling for the cavalry.

  They needed to be long gone before that.

  With Sully in the lead, they raced down another alley, hopped a chain-link fence, and made a loop around the area to where they’d stashed their vehicle.

  Drops of blood continued to trickle down Liam’s face, soaking his lips, and maybe it made him a twisted motherfucker, but he welcomed the metallic flavor that coated his tongue. He welcomed the pain in his eyebrow. The stickiness of his palm when he wiped at the blood. The adrenaline still coursing in his veins. The way his heart was pounding, not from fear but a sick sense of excitement that someone might be chasing them.

  It was such a stupid thought that he stumbled to a stop a few feet from the car, clutching his side as a wave of laughter overtook him.

  “Boston?” Sully sounded both puzzled and amused as he stared at Liam doubled over. “You lose your bloody mind?”

  “No,” he choked out between laughs. “I’m pretty sure I found it.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means . . .” More laughter tickled his throat, making him gasp for air.

  Jesus. This felt so good. So liberating.

  He dragged his tongue over his bottom lip, licking away at the blood as he straightened up and met his friend’s eyes. “I missed this.”

  Sully’s mouth twitched. “Missed what? Getting shot at?”

  “Yeah. I did. It’s fucked up, I know, but security sucks balls, Sully. I hate it. I hate my job. I . . .” He began to laugh again, rubbing his fists over both eyes. They were starting to water. “I miss the action. I miss the guns. I miss the blood. I miss the—”

  He stopped, his breath hitching as he realized Sully’s face was only inches away from him. His hands dropped to his sides. His heart began pounding for a whole new reason. The look in Sullivan’s eyes was . . . familiar. It was how he’d looked in Paris after he’d guessed that Liam was attracted to him. And rather than recoil in horror, Sully’s eyes had taken on this exact gleam. Seductive. Hot. Lusty.

  Liam’s vocal cords seized. He didn’t know what was happening right now. Couldn’t make sense of it. All he knew was that Sully’s large hand was moving toward his face . . .

  His whole body swayed when Sully ran his index finger over the blood staining Liam’s lips. When he drew back, the pad of that finger was stained red.

  The air seemed to . . . change. It thickened. Liam didn’t move. Couldn’t move. But Sully was moving. Not his hand this time, but his mouth, traveling closer and closer, until, finall
y, warm lips collided with Liam’s.

  Jesus Christ.

  What the fuck was happening right now? What the—

  A strangled sound slipped out when he felt his friend’s tongue prod the seam of his lips. The surprised noise caused his mouth to open, allowing that wet tongue to enter with a greedy, savage thrust that sent a shock wave of lust to Liam’s cock.

  Despite his thickening erection, he didn’t return the kiss. He didn’t swirl his tongue over Sully’s. Didn’t grip the man’s shoulders or breathe in that familiar spicy scent. His mind was racing as fast as his heartbeat. Why the fuck was Sullivan kissing him? After all the protests Sully had put up, all his efforts to push Liam away, all the times he’d insisted that giving in to the attraction would destroy their friendship . . . after all that, he suddenly had his tongue in Liam’s mouth?

  As a dose of anger injected into his bloodstream, he growled against Sully’s hot mouth, then planted both hands on his friend’s chest and gave a hard shove.

  “Don’t fucking do that,” he snapped.

  Gray eyes widening, Sully staggered backward, looking as stunned as Liam felt. “Shit,” he whispered. “Fuck. I’m . . . sorry.”

  “Yeah.” Liam couldn’t taste the blood anymore. It’d been replaced with the sour taste of bitterness clinging to his throat. “Yeah, you should be.”

  Then he pushed past Sullivan, threw open the driver’s door, and got into the car.

  * * *

  Even though he was in desperate need of sleep, Sullivan was doing his bloody damnedest to avoid his and Liam’s room. Since they’d returned to the bunker, he’d spent thirty minutes shamelessly flirting with Juliet, another forty-five playing dice with some of the Guatanan soldiers, and now he was walking into Morgan’s hospital room despite the fact that it was past one a.m.

  He’d been checking in on the boss several times a day since he’d arrived in Guatana. Not to say good-bye, because fuck that. James Morgan wasn’t going to die. The visits were usually quick—he just poked his head in and ordered Jim to wake the fuck up. But tonight Sully approached the bed and sank down in the chair beside it.