Cash Remington and the Missing Heiress (Sexy Dreadfuls Book 1) (3 page)

Some of the disappointed bidders rise to leave, and Arnan hurries up the stairs ahead of them. This is not part of the plan. Arnan is getting away, and I’m running out of time. Collette is still chained. I catch movement around the back of the room near the door to the slave quarters. Ibiza creeps like a cat, one guard bleeding out at her feet. She stalks the grand prize in the center of the platform. I’ll have to beat her to it.

Fuck.
I put one hand in my suit coat, palming my silenced pistol. I catch a glint of the blade in Ibiza’s palm as she approaches Collette. I have to move. The merc forces my hand.

I pull two pill-sized containers from my pocket, shake them up, and throw them before closing my eyes. A thunderous boom and a flash of light freezes everyone in the room—everyone but Ibiza and me. I shoot out the lights and dash up to the stage. The Egyptian buyer shrieks and falls off the edge of the platform with a thunk. The room becomes a tumult, the rest of the bastards scurrying out and up the stairs like rats.

One of the buyer’s guards still stands, but no longer speaks, because of the blade buried deep in his neck. The buyer scrambles up and rushes out with the rest as the blond merc starts firing at me. He ducks behind the platform, and I return his shots, trying to peg him through the wood of the stage. Splinters fly, and he doesn’t pop up again. The Egyptian guard crashes to the ground next to Collette.

Ibiza works on picking the lock and already has one cuff loose. Collette is dazed like everyone else, but panicked shouting echoes at my back as the buyers flood up the stairs to the main hall.

“Stand back.” I point my pistol at the shackle holding Collette to the spot.

Ibiza steps away, but palms another blade. She’s still nude from the waist up. I’ve seen her hide weapons in some pretty unlikely spots, but she’s outdone herself this time. One shot and the metal cuff flies off. I grip Collette’s hand and yank her from the stage. She doesn’t make a sound as I pull her behind me, and we follow the stampede of men up the stairs.

“She’s mine, Cash,” Ibiza calls before heading back toward the slave quarters. Her contract specifies she’ll free the other girls, but she wants the extra bounty—and the extra challenge of besting me. She’ll win neither.

“Come and get her, then!” I’ll be ready when she shows.

Ibiza tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Oh, I will.” She disappears through the door, and I hear the pained grunts of a few more guards as she goes to work. I shoot a glance toward the back of the stage where the blond merc fell, but there’s still no sign of him. He’s either dead or scared shitless.

“Are you going to hurt me?” Collette’s sweet voice meets my ears, the tremble unmistakable.

“I will if you don’t get a move on.” I keep my tone gruff so she knows I mean business, as I pull her up the stairs.

We stop at the top when greeted by the Kalashnikov duo from the front entrance, their guns drawn and the barrels aimed right at me.

CHAPTER THREE

“
I
’LL KILL HER.”
I pull Collette in front of me and point my pistol at her head. She squeaks, but keeps still.

The Egyptian and Arnan stand next to the fountain and watch the scene unfold.

“You think I’m fucking with you?” I press my barrel tight to her temple. A sob racks her chest, and she whimpers.

Her bare skin trembles beneath my cruel touch. It’s a necessary evil, one I’ll remedy later.

“Please,” she chokes out.

The Egyptian balks and motions toward us while talking to Arnan. He wants her bad enough to negotiate. And they’re too amped up to even notice my finger isn’t on the trigger. I wouldn’t risk Collette.

“Wait!” Arnan calls to the guards, then tells them in Arabic to stand down.

They grudgingly lower their guns, but keep their dark eyes trained on me.

“The ones to my left and my right, too.”

“
Alqaraf!
”
Shit,
in Arabic. Arnan waves for the guards on either side to lower their weapons. “Now let her go and you walk away.”

I want to laugh. I never walk away, not until my mission is complete. Technically, my sole mission is to rescue Collette. Killing Arnan is just a bonus I decided on the moment I discovered the extent of his human trafficking endeavors. He’s dead. He just doesn’t know it yet.

“So I let her go, and I walk?” I don’t know how I keep the laughter from my voice.

“Yes. You will leave here untouched. You have my word.”

“Your word?”

“The word of Arnan is unbreakable!” He puffs his chest out even farther and takes a step forward. Pompous prick.

I lower my voice and whisper into Collette’s ear, her lilac scent sinking into my veins like my own personal opium. “Trust me, Collette. When I say duck, you duck.”

A near imperceptible nod from her and I know we’re on the same page. “Okay, Arnan. Because you gave me your word, I’m going to let her go.”

“Yes, yes.” He rubs his hands together.

“Duck.”

Collette folds, giving me a clear view. I double tap the Kalashnikov twins, bullets in each heart and head, and grab Collette’s wrist, yanking her backwards into the shelter of the stairwell.

Bullets rip through the air and lodge in the wall and doors. The gunfire is almost deafening, and two thuds sound from where the twins’ bodies hit the deck.

“Who are you?” Collette pants, as I flatten her to the wall beside me. Her skin is like the smoothest silk under my palm. I can’t wait to taste it.

“Cash Remington. CIA. You’re safe now.”

“Thank God.” She covers her face with shaking hands. “I thought…I thought I was going to b-be sold and then r—”

“You’re safe, but you need to do as I say.
Exactly
as I say. Got it?”

She drops her hands to cover her breasts and nods as more bullets ricochet past and shouts echo. They're going to rush us if we don’t move.

“Up the stairs. Let’s go.” I fire a few shots behind us as we dash up the curving steps.

At the top, splendor covers every square inch—tapestries, golden statues, and rich paintings line the walls. We flee, her feet slapping on the tile as I shove her ahead of me. Men yell on the stairs behind us, hot on our heels.

“Stop!” I reach the same balcony where I’d seen Arnan earlier. “Here.”

“What?” She turns as I squeeze off a few rounds at our pursuers—covering fire to keep them at bay.

Two braver—or dumber—men keep rushing forward. I shoot the first through his right eye. A puff of crimson explodes from the back of his head. He takes two more steps. By the time he drops, his friend has a bad case of lead poisoning to the heart.

I pop him in the head, too, just to be sure, before turning back to Collette. “You’re doing great.”

She nods, her chin trembling.

I reach under the back of my jacket and pull out a grapple gun. The rope is wire thin, but stronger than anything a hundred times its thickness. Her eyes widen as I point it at the opening above the fountain. I squeeze the trigger and the grapple gun fires, the line spooling through the air as the hook shoots into open space. It engages on the roof, and I yank it tight.

“Come here.” I grip her around her waist. Plaster flies next to our heads as the other guards catch up and release a barrage of bullets. I depress the trigger on the grapple gun, and the rope threads through the thin pulleys, yanking us out into the courtyard and up into the night.

We stop just short of the roof, dangling high above the fountain. I shove her up so she can grip the edge of the roof. She pulls herself to safety as more shots are fired at us from below.

A bullet rips through my calf, and I grunt from the searing pain. I shoot indiscriminately downward as I swing my body over the lip of the roof. Once I’m safe, I peek over the edge. Arnan is standing there trying to console the Egyptian buyer. So long, motherfucker. I squeeze my trigger, the gunshot music to my ears, and the Egyptian goes down in a heap. Arnan runs, and a guard darts in the way and blocks my shot.
Fuck.

More bullets whiz by and out into the night.

I climb to my feet and pull Collette up with me, her long brown hair blowing in the cool breeze. “This way.”

We hurry across the roof as more yells ring out below us. Several of the cars are already gone from the driveway, but the one I want is still there waiting for us. I drop down to a lower roof, ignoring the burn in my calf, then catch her as she follows.

One more short drop to the ground and we’re running across the sand at the side of the palace. We round the corner toward the front gate and stop. Fifteen men are lined up, guns at the ready.

“Back!” I yank Collette against the palace wall as the guards open fire.

We are pinned down, but can’t stay that way. I reach into my coat pocket and grab the last of my flashbangs.

“Stay here. I’ll be back for you. Close your eyes.”

Collette gapes at me. “Don’t leave me.”

“I have to, but I’ll come get you in,”—I glance at my watch—“no more than twenty-six seconds. Can you count to twenty-six for me?”

She nods. “Yes.”

“Good. Close your eyes. When you hear the explosion, start counting.”

“Explosion?” She grips my jacket.

“Close them.”

I shake the flashbang and toss it around the wall. She closes her eyes. After the bright flash and the boom, I jet from our hiding spot.

“One-Mississippi—”

Three shots and the closest three men hit the sand, blood gushing from their heads. I tag four more, torso shots, as I dart to the nearest date tree and crouch behind it. Bullets eat away at the bark as the guards regroup and unload their automatic weapons. I change out my magazine, fifteen fresh bullets ready to go. But it’s my last clip.

Nudging the muzzle of my gun around the tree trunk, I fire blindly and smile when I hear at least two of the men let out pained groans. I’ve spent ten of my fifteen bullets, but there are at least six men left.
Fuck.

A few more shots whiz past. I gasp and groan, letting my right foot slide out next to the tree as if I’ve fallen over. Sand kicks up around it as the assholes try to shoot me. They miss. After a few more errant shots, they quiet and begin arguing amongst themselves, trying to decide which one will come to see if I’m dead.

I don’t give them the chance. Surging from behind the tree, I pop two in the head, two others in the torso, and run at the two left standing. I squeeze the trigger, but my gun jams. One of them fires, a bullet clipping my arm right before I barrel into him and knock him back into the sand. As I dive on top of him, I kick my leg out and knock the other guard off his feet.

One good punch to the throat and the first guard’s windpipe collapses. The second guard tries to shoot me, but I grab his barrel, burning my hand, and shove the hot metal onto his face. He screams as his flesh singes. I rip the Kalashnikov from his hands and use the butt to crush his skull. His screams stop, and I rush back to where Collette is hiding.

“—ty-five, twenty-six.” She opens her eyes.

I smile down at her. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” Slinging the rifle over my shoulder, I lead Collette through the mass of bodies and down the cobblestone driveway toward the McLaren. She’s barefoot and moving too slowly, so I scoop her into my arms and carry her the rest of the way. My left leg stings like a bitch, but I can’t let up now. I have her, finally, and nothing is going to take her away from me.

I drop her into the passenger seat. More guards rush down the stairs of the palace and fire at us. The back window bursts as I slide into the driver’s seat and turn the key. The engine roars to life, and I punch the clutch, ignoring the pain in my leg. We rip out of the front gate and onto the lane leading through the town market. Squat buildings and carts along the roadside blur past.

Before I get too far away, I dig in my jacket pocket and depress a button. A deep boom rushes through the night, and an orange fireball blooms behind us. Collette screams and covers her ears as the windows rattle and the ground vibrates beneath us.

“We’re safe.” I squeeze her bare thigh before shifting gears again. “They won’t be holding slave auctions in this part of the country anytime soon.”

Headlights show up behind me in moments as we race into the night. I shift through the gears like a race-car driver, gunning down the rough streets and heading toward the desert.

“You did that? You blew it up?”

“Of course.” I clip a merchant’s cart, sending it spinning into the road behind me. Maybe it will slow down our pursuers. The headlights swerve, but keep coming.

“Seatbelt, Collette.”

Bullets ping off the back of the car as I take a turn at breakneck speed. The tires screech as I straighten it out and narrowly avoid another cart left on the street overnight. Collette snaps her seatbelt into place and covers her face.

“I’ve got you. Don’t worry.” I pull out the pistol I stashed between the seats.

“Cash? Is that your name?”

My heart warms to hear my name on her perfect lips. “That’s right.”

“Thank you.”

I roll the window down and fire at the first car on our tail. I get lucky and nail the driver because the vehicle spins out of control. Not so luckily, two cars remain.

“Fuck. I mean, you’re welcome.” I pull my gun back in and swerve to avoid a slow car puttering along ahead of me.

The buildings thin out after another half a mile, and then it’s only us, the poppy fields, and the two cars on our tail. They split behind me, chasing me side-by-side and eating up the pavement faster and faster. More slugs slam into the back of the car, and it’s only a matter of time before they shoot a tire out. I grip the gear shift.

“Do you trust me?”

She turns to me, her light blue eyes sparkling in what little moonlight filters through the clouds. “Yes.”

“Good. Hold on.”

I slam on the brakes, and the car skids violently as I keep my eyes on the rearview. The two pursuers split and go around, both of them jetting out in front of us, gravel and sand spraying up from their tires.