Midnight Rescue

  “Turn around, Lucia,” Isabel said. “Very slowly.”

  Lucia did as she was asked, while Isabel continued quietly. “Some very bad men want to hurt you and the other girls you were locked up with. Trevor and I”—she gestured to him in case Lucia couldn’t figure it out—“we want to help you. But you’re going to have to help us too. Slowly take off the dress, sweetheart.”

  Lucia’s cheeks turned a bright shade of crimson, but she followed Isabel’s instruction. Isabel clasped her hands tightly in her lap, resisting the impulse to stand up and wrap her arms around the girl. Protect her from this disgusting situation she’d unwillingly found herself in.

  The girl stood naked before them, and even Trevor seemed on the verge of tears. Isabel could tell from the way he kept swallowing, working hard to maintain his composure.

  “Can you describe the room where you’re being held, Lucia?”

  “It’s where the servants drink coffee and talk before work. Or after work.” Lucia seemed unbelievably nervous. And she looked unbelievably frail with her flesh exposed and the white dress pooled around her ankles.

  The break room. Abby had been right. “Is there a clock in the room? Turn around again.”

  Lucia did a slow turn, then said, “Y-yes. There is a clock.”

  “Good.” Isabel swallowed the acid coating her throat. “Now get on your hands and knees.”

  Next to her, Trevor’s face grew pale. “Hurry this up,” he said smoothly. “I’m two seconds from walking out that door and murdering every last person in this house.”

  “Do you want to go home, sweetheart?” Isabel asked.

  Lucia nodded earnestly.

  “Then at exactly eight twenty, you’ll need to do something. Something very, very dangerous.”

  “I—I will do anything.”

  “There’s a gun in the far left cupboard in the kitchen, the one in the break room you mentioned. Do you know how to use a gun?”

  Lucia shook her head.

  “That’s okay. There’s nothing to it. There’s going to be a little button under the handle. That’s the safety. You’ll need to switch it off before you can use the gun. Do you know where the storage room is?”

  The girl wrinkled her dark brows. “The room with the containers? Boxes?”

  Isabel nodded. “Where they keep the Christmas lights. Do you know where it is and how to get there from the break room?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. What you need to do is gather the other girls and take them to that room, Lucia.”

  “H-how?”

  “You’ll need to get the guard outside your door to come into the break room.” Isabel paused. “And then you have to shoot him.”

  The girl paled.

  “Stand up and do another turn. I know the idea scares you, but it’s the only way out of here. Once the guard is taken care of, you have ten minutes to get to the storage room. I’ll meet you there, and then we’re going to run outside to a helicopter that will be waiting for us.”

  Lucia’s eyes lit up. “And then I can go home?”

  “Then you can go home,” Isabel said, blinking back tears. “There are a lot of bad men in this house, Lucia. If we’re going to get you out of here, you need to do everything I just said.”

  “I will. I promise, I will do it.” Lucia looked at her with such gratitude that Isabel’s tears almost spilled over. “Eight twenty. I will…” Her voice wobbled. “I will shoot the guard and bring everyone to the storage room.”

  “Good girl. And remember, it has to be at exactly that time. If you’re even a minute late—”

  A knock sounded on the door. “Time is up,” came Gerard’s voice. The lock clicked and the guard stood in the doorway, gesturing for Lucia to pick up her dress.

  Hands shaking, Lucia pulled the transparent material over her body and straightened out the hem. She gave Isabel and Trevor a hesitant smile before following the guard out of the room.

  The door locked again.

  Isabel wanted to bury her face against Trevor’s chest and cry, but she reined in the urge. “She’ll do it,” she said softly.

  Trevor leaned his head toward hers and made a show of seductively sucking on her earlobe. “Do you think she can?” he muttered, his warm breath tickling her neck.

  “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  She glanced at her watch—7:36.

  Trevor’s tongue traced the shell of her ear. “You did good,” he murmured. “You were amazing with her, Isabel.”

  Not even the feel of his warm lips on her skin could ease the ache in her gut, the sick feeling crawling up her spine like ants. She let out a pent-up breath. “Let’s just hope it wasn’t for nothing.”

  They circled each other like a pair of wary wolves fighting over territory. Neither was in a hurry to make the first move, though Abby could see Devlin’s arms tensing, ready to lash out. He wore a long-sleeved black shirt that revealed the coiled muscles of his wiry frame, and he moved with a lithe grace that seemed out of character for such a cold and cruel robot.

  Abby knew better than to underestimate the man. He’d once been considered for Morgan’s team, which meant he had to be very, very good.

  But so was she.

  “You don’t know how much I’m enjoying having you here with me,” Devlin said as he moved toward her, then sidestepped. “I’ve thought of nothing but you since the night Jim Morgan stole you away from me.”

  She balanced herself on the balls of her feet, ready for his first attack. It came swiftly, in the form of a rapid uppercut that made a hissing sound as it barely missed her jaw. Abby danced away, adrenaline coursing through her veins. “Nice try,” she taunted.

  He came at her again without warning, this time with a series of jabs that she blocked easily. The last blow scraped by her wrist, and a tremor of pain spasmed through her hand. She forced herself not to wince, praying Devlin hadn’t noticed the brief tightening of her jaw. She decided to distract him, launching herself at him and executing a throw that landed him on the hard ground. He recovered quickly, back on his feet and ready with a counterattack.

  He was well trained in martial arts, making her head spin with everything from lightning-fast karate chops to a lethal jujitsu armlock that sent pain shooting up to her wrist. Gritting her teeth, she fought him off, locking his right knee with her legs and twisting hard. Devlin cursed as his legs gave out. He stumbled to his knees, then dove out of the way a split second before she unleashed a karate chop of her own on his carotid artery.

  They separated again, circled. Abby was breathing heavily, her lungs burning. Devlin’s shirt was soaked with sweat. So was his angular face. He lifted a hand and wiped away the sheen on his forehead. “Better than I expected,” he said between ragged breaths. “Jeremy Thomas trained you well.”

  “So that one day I could snap the neck of a psychopath like you,” she returned cheerfully.

  His face tensed with rage. He charged, so fast, so unexpectedly that Abby found herself caught in a gear lock that nearly crushed her windpipe. Gasping for air, she unleashed a right hook, striking him squarely in the jaw. He retaliated with an uppercut that had her seeing stars.

  Enough. She was getting tired of this bullshit.

  Her leg snapped out, slicing into his calf and sending him to the ground again, and this time she pounced, pinning him down, jamming her elbow against his throat until she managed to get her arms around him in a chokehold that had him wheezing. He grunted as she restricted his airflow. She shifted her hold, seeking out the spot that would compress his carotid artery. The eye she’d left him with began to glaze over in its remaining socket. She applied more pressure, sweat dripping down her neck. Almost there. Almost—

  The tip of a blade sank into her forearm, just beneath her elbow. A knife. The bastard had held out on her. The sharp sting of pain had her instinctively loosening her grip and Devlin pounced on the opportunity.

  White-hot agony sliced through her.

  His fing
ers dug into her injured wrist. With a triumphant growl, he twisted so hard her vision went hazy. The sound of bone splintering cracked in the air.

  And then he was on top of her, pinning her down, his hands around her throat. She fought for air, batting at him with her uninjured hand. He tossed away the small switchblade he’d surprised her with and squeezed her neck tighter.

  “I’ve wanted this,” he panted, “for so long. So long, Abby.”

  Arousal swam in his one good eye.

  Abby felt herself losing consciousness. She tried to breathe, but his grip was too tight. No air. Her trachea tightened, closed. Oh God.

  “I love watching you die,” he hissed.

  Her vision went in and out of focus. The girls. She had to save the girls. But she couldn’t. Ted was trying to hurt her and— No, Ted was gone. And she was… she was… Her lungs were on fire.

  “That’s it, luv,” he whispered. “That’s it.”

  He squeezed tighter, his face inches from hers, taut with intense concentration and pure sexual pleasure.

  So this was it. This was how she would die.

  She looked up at him, giving in to the darkness beckoning her.

  And then Devlin’s head exploded in her face.

  Chapter 21

  Abby gasped for air, wiping specks of blood and brains off her face as she tried to remember how to breathe. She sucked in as much oxygen as her greedy lungs demanded, her chest burning with each desperate gulp. Devlin’s body was pinning her down on the rocky ground, his warm blood spilling over her sweatshirt, her neck, her face. She tasted copper in her mouth and spat it out, struggling to get out from under his dead weight.

  Confusion and relief warred inside her. She slid away, crawling on her back until she was a few feet from Devlin’s lifeless body. The metallic scent of his blood still hung in the air.

  “Abby!”

  Kane’s urgent voice brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them back, watching as a shadowy figure emerged from the slope. Kane slowed down as he approached, like a wild animal creeping toward a kill. He wore a black turtleneck and black pants that matched the black look on his face. Concern and fury dominated his expression, each emotion growing stronger, more turbulent, as he fixed his gaze on her.

  “W-what are you doing here?” Abby stammered.

  “Saving your ass, apparently,” he replied in a severe voice. He extended a hand, and she grasped it uneasily, allowing him to haul her to her feet.

  “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Kane demanded.

  Abby cradled her broken hand against her chest. “I’m fine. It’s just my hand.” She glanced at the streak of blood on her other arm. “And he nicked me with his knife.”

  She looked into his deep green eyes, stunned by the intensity of emotion she saw in them. Relief. Pleasure. Anger. Disgust. Betrayal.

  It was that last one that made her heart ache.

  Turning his back, he moved toward the entrance of the tunnel and bent down to gather the weapons she and Devlin had tossed there. He shoved everything except one gun into the canvas bag on his other shoulder, then looked over at Devlin’s dead body. He made a disgusted noise, muttering what sounded like “Good riddance.”

  She watched him for a moment, then snapped out of her trance as she realized what this meant. What his presence meant.

  “You can’t be here!” she burst out. “Damn you, Kane, how could you come here?”

  He stared at her. “How could I not?” he answered, his voice low and deadly. “You needed me.”

  “Those girls need you,” she snapped. With a rush of panic, she grabbed his arm and twisted his watch around so she could check the time—7:16. The chopper wouldn’t take off for another hour. “You have to go, Kane. Now.”

  “I plan on it,” he said grimly. “Do you think I’d leave my team one man short?”

  “Obviously you would,” she shot back. “I can’t believe you came here instead of staying with them—”

  “And I can’t believe you knocked me out back at the safe house!” His eyes blazed. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t come after you?”

  “You didn’t need to! I needed to come here alone, and you need to be on that chopper.”

  “I will be.” His expression darkened. “I just have one question—why didn’t you tell me about Devlin? Why the fuck didn’t you trust me?”

  “It was something I had to do alone,” she said unhappily. “If I’d told you, you would’ve—”

  “Tried to help?” he finished coldly. “You mean, the way I helped now?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you’re pissed, but you’ve got to understand that—”

  He cut in again. “What I understand is that you don’t trust me. That all the time we’ve spent together, in and out of bed, hasn’t meant a damn thing to you.”

  Panic skittered up her spine. “That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it?” His eyes became weary. “You didn’t trust me to tell me why you were in the prison. Didn’t trust me to tell me about Amanda Silverton. Didn’t trust me to tell me about this meeting.”

  “It wasn’t you.” Her heart beat wildly, and for the first time in her life, she was actually, truly scared. Scared of losing Kane. “You know how hard it is for me to trust anyone. I’ve been on my own my entire life. Even Jeremy couldn’t get me to open up fully. I’ve always been alone, Kane. Always.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have any problem being alone now.” He took a step back. “I have a mission to carry out. Here.” He reached into his pocket, retrieved a set of car keys and tossed them into her good hand. “Take the SUV. The bike will get me to the helipad faster.”

  When he turned around, Abby experienced a burst of panic. “Kane, don’t leave like this. At least promise me we can talk about this later.”

  He did a half turn, his features lined with weariness. “There is no later, Abby. It’s done. We’re done.”

  Her throat tightened. “Don’t say that.”

  “Why the hell not?” he demanded. “Come on, Abby, give me one good fucking reason not to write us off.”

  Kane met Abby’s yellow eyes, frustration burning in his gut as he waited for her to respond. When he’d looked into the scope of his rifle and seen Devlin’s hands wrapped around her slender throat, he’d almost lost it. Almost shot that bastard’s head off and taken the risk that the bullet would exit Devlin and hit Abby. But he’d forced himself to remain calm. To wait for the right moment, the moment when Devlin’s head was in the position he needed it to be.

  And now Devlin was dead. No longer a threat. Kane wasn’t sure he even wanted to call a cleanup crew. Morgan’s contacts at the CIA would probably be thrilled to dispose of William Devlin’s body, but Kane wanted to leave it here. Let the wild animals gnaw on Devlin, rip him apart. Do to him what he’d done to all the people he’d tortured and killed.

  It had taken all of Kane’s willpower not to pull Abby into his arms afterward. He’d wanted to hold her. Comfort her.

  Love her.

  But he couldn’t. Because you couldn’t hold, comfort, and love someone who didn’t want to be held, comforted, and loved.

  “Give me a reason,” he said again, his voice hoarse.

  “Because… because I don’t want you to go.”

  “Why?” he pressed. “You’ve made it pretty clear that you don’t need or want my help. You’ve put up a fight with me from day one, Abby. I’m still not even sure why you slept with me—I can’t help but think it was part of some plan you’re not telling me about.” Bitterness tainted his tone.

  “It was never part of a plan,” she protested.

  “And I’m supposed to know that because… ? You haven’t exactly been forthcoming. About anything.”

  She bit her lower lip, and for a moment he almost caved in and yanked her into his arms. She looked so small and vulnerable standing in front of him. She’d come all the way out here, alone, to battle a trained mercenary with a case of bloodlust.

&nb
sp; “I…” She took a breath. “I don’t want this to end. I don’t know what’s going to happen between us, what kind of future we could possibly have, but I know I don’t want it to end.”

  “See, that’s the difference between you and me. I know exactly what can happen between us, what the future can hold. Ten years ago I promised myself I’d never fall in love with another woman, but guess what, I fell for you, Abby.”

  She looked at him in shock. “What?”

  “You heard me.” He sighed. “And I can tell from your expression that you didn’t like what you just heard.”

  “That’s not true,” she said quickly. Too quickly.

  Kane shook his head. “You’ll never give yourself to me, will you, Abby?”

  “I already did,” she said, sounding frustrated.

  “You gave me your body,” he corrected. “But you won’t give me your trust. And you sure as hell won’t give me your heart.”

  Disappointment crashed into him as he heard his own words and recognized the truth in them. Abby Sinclair was incapable of trust, and if she’d ever had a heart, it had eroded away years ago. He’d been a fool for believing he could change that. A fool for letting himself feel all these pesky emotions he’d vowed a long time ago never to feel again.

  “Abby… I can’t be with you.” His voice was low and thick with defeat.

  Alarm flickered in her eyes. “Don’t say that. We can figure something out.”

  “How? You don’t trust me—you’ll never trust me. And frankly, I don’t think I trust you, so…” His shoulders heaved, then stiffened as he realized he couldn’t stay here any longer. A glance at his watch told him he had just enough time to make it to the helipad. Just enough time to carry out the mission she had asked him to take on.

  “Go back to the safe house,” he said briskly. “I’ll call you when the extraction is over.”

  “And after that?”

  “After that, I’ll be on a plane back to Morgan’s compound. I would really appreciate it if you weren’t on it.”

  Her face looked ravaged. “If that’s what you want.”