Dare You to Run (17 page)

She landed in a heap, pain jolting through her as she hit the ground and her heels crumbled under her weight. Her hair was a mop that covered her eyes as she went rolling through the gutter. There was a foul stench she decided she adored because it meant she was outside. When she came to a stop she scrambled to shove her hair back so she could see and get her feet under her. The alleyway was only a few feet wide. She drove toward where it opened into a wide street, the sound of people tantalizing.

But she ran into a body. A solid, hard male, who gripped her shoulders and set her back a pace into the alleyway.

She hissed at him, struggling, fighting for her life. He sucked in his breath and yanked her toward him, wrapping his arms around her.

“Princess.”

She froze, blinking as she tried to decide if her brain was playing tricks on her. Was she cracking? Hearing what she wanted to because she just couldn't deal with defeat?

“Not too bad.” Vitus eased his grip, letting her push back from him. She stared at him, still unwilling to believe her eyes, although maybe “unable” was the more appropriate word.

“No too bad at all.” Saxon echoed his brother's words.

Vitus let her go slowly, making sure she could stand before he slid his hands along her sides and tugged her dress down. It popped the shock bubble she'd been caught in.

“How—” Her brain was firing off faster than her lips could form words. “Oh, the dragonfly.” It was still tucked into her bra.

“Yeah.”

“Here.” Another man leaned past Vitus, reaching for her wrists. There was a click as he unlocked one side of the handcuffs. Damascus jerked back as Vitus lifted her hair away from her ear.

“You have to go … now,” she insisted, a cold dread filling her. “They are going to kill you.”

“Shut up, bitch,” someone said behind her as a hard hand grabbed her hair. Vitus grasped her bicep at the same time he leveled his gun at the man behind her. She was stuck between them.

“Federal Agents,” Vitus announced. “Put your hands up.”

The man behind her only snickered. “I know who you are. Been waiting on you.”

“That so?” Vitus was trying to distract the man, starting to move past her and put himself in the line of fire.

“Stay right the fuck there,” the man behind her warned, his fingers digging into her hair. Damascus bit her lip to contain the cry of pain trying to get free. “I'll put one through her head before you get a round off or take more than one step.”

“You won't shoot your hostage,” Saxon growled.

“Sure will,” the man behind her confirmed. “No way around it. Three against one, which leaves me only one choice.”

“You can surrender,” Vitus said.

There was a soft chuckle from the man behind Damascus, sending an icy chill down her spine.

“I'd be a dead man,” he rasped. “No one fails the Raven. You'll do me fast. You can be sure I won't get that sort of deal from the man. No, he likes to make examples of the men who fail him.”

Damascus's heart had started racing. Vitus, Saxon, and the other agent were all focused on the man behind her. Sweat was trickling down her back as she tried to think of what to do. There was a shifting of the shadows behind Saxon. A man emerged, moonlight shimmering off the polished casing of a gun. Saxon's body tightened as he shifted, turning on him while the other agent ended up muzzle to muzzle with another gun. She was gripped by horror, feeling helpless against her sire's need to strike at Vitus. The trap was too tight.

“Just go.” She wasn't sure when she decided to say it, only that the words were out of her mouth as she took a step backward.

There was a gasp and a round of giggles as a group of women rounded the corner and came barreling down the alleyway. They were chattering and obviously several drinks into the night.

“Oh yes!” one of them said.

“Eye candy!” another chimed in.

“Grade A viewing! Right this way.”

The man holding her hair grunted, releasing her as he recoiled from the group. Vitus pulled her hard and she stumbled forward as another round of giggling bounced off the brick walls. There was suddenly a crush of bodies as the newcomers just plowed into them all.

“Ladies!” Someone called from where the alley opened into a street. “That's the wrong way!”

“Shit,” one of the men said as he shoved his gun under his jacket. “Yeah, wrong way.… Get back to your tour.”

The man at the opening to the street illuminated the scene with a high-powered flashlight. Guns went under jackets as Vitus shoved Damascus forward, into the light.

“Oh … sorry.”

“Opp-sy!”

There was a shift next to her and then the hard sound of flesh hitting flesh. As the group of women turned, Saxon and Vitus struck, leaving the gunmen on the ground while they shoved her toward the front of the group.

“Move, Princess,” Vitus said next to her ear. They all popped out onto the street as the group of women laughed and the tour guide tried to get them back under control. Vitus wasn't really waiting for her to follow his orders. He pulled her along as the night crowd swirled around them.

“You can bet they're setting up a way to drop us,” Saxon muttered next to her.

“And there isn't much we can do about it,” the third agent growled.

The three men had her caged among them, their gazes darting around as they tried to find an escape route.

“Get closer to me.” She grabbed Vitus and Saxon by their forearms. “They want to shoot you, but not me.”

“What?”

She wasn't sure who actually voiced the question. She was a little more focused on pulling them both closer. She was stepping on the sides of their shoes and had a death grip on both of their belts. Personal space be damned.

The street was full of people partying in New Orleans style, making it easy to crush together. The doors of the bars were open, the music spilling out and cars tried to thread their way down the crowded streets. She was stumbling, hearing every step she took because her senses were heightened while her heart continued to pound. She was panting and she was missing a shoe. She hopped and kicked the other one off because it made keeping up easier.

“There.” Vitus gave a short jerk of his head toward a large hotel. “The roof. PD helicopter is setting down.”

She started to look up, but Vitus tightened his grip on her nape to keep her head steady. “Don't give us away, Princess.”

“Oh … um, right.” She had to do better, had to be smarter.

“Can you fly that bird, Greer?” Saxon asked.

“Sure can.”

With a destination in mind, the three men suddenly tightened their focus. She was herded along as they drove around groups of people, weaving in and out along the sidewalk and across traffic in sudden motions all designed to make it hard to follow them. The hotel was a Marriott. It was on the edge of the French Quarter, its tower rising above the historic area. Vitus pushed her through the large revolving door and into the lobby without blinking an eye. The bar was full, as some sort of convention was in progress. Greer dropped his suit jacket over her shoulders from behind to cover her torn dress as they swept her in a fluid motion toward the elevators. Saxon made a detour to the security desk. A guard there looked at him like he was crazy before Saxon flashed his badge, and the man handed over a card.

“Roof access,” Saxon muttered as he slid into the elevator and warned a group of people back. Vitus took the card and pushed it into a slot on the control panel as the doors closed.

The soft music filtering into the elevator seemed like a cruel joke and the final straw. She was struggling to piece together everything that had happened in the last hour. Every inch of her body suddenly felt like it was on fire, the scrapes down the side of her body making it seem like her dress was stuck to her with blood. She made the mistake of looking down and felt like she wanted to vomit when she realized her dress
was
covered in blood.

“Easy Princess.” Vitus hooked an arm around her, pulling her back against his body as he cupped her chin and raised her head.

“Don't call me that.” Her voice was a strange little squeak, which irritated the hell out of her. “I was doing just fine. You have to get away from me.”

But now that he was there, she was shaking, her body giving out as though she hadn't just gotten out of a locked room, in handcuffs no less. Vitus lifted her chin until their gazes met. At last she had something steady to rely on. It was there in his eyes, an unwavering strength that stabilized the trembling that felt core deep inside her.

“You were doing good Princess, but I'm getting you out of here now.”

It was the promise she needed, even if her pride rebelled. The doors of the elevator opened, letting the night air brush the wet fabric of her dress. She looked out at the helicopter, watching the way Saxon and Greer steamrolled their way past the police officer standing near it. They flashed their badges and swept the guy's protests aside, even reached out and grabbed his shoulder radio when he tried to call in for a badge check.

“Classified,” Saxon insisted as he opened the door.

“Blackout mission,” Greer said as he climbed into the pilot's seat.

“Say one goddamn word before we make contact and I'll have your shield.” Vitus was lifting her up into the seat of the aircraft while the officer was still sputtering. He turned back to him. “Total blackout, got it?”

Vitus had his badge out, holding it two inches from the officer's nose. The man finally broke, gripping his belt as he backed up out of the rotor's range. She tried to scoot across the seat, but her body had suddenly lost every ounce of strength. She'd made it only halfway when Vitus leveled himself into the helicopter beside her and moved her. The seat was padded, but it felt like she'd landed on solid stone, pain jolting through her abused flesh as the aircraft vibrated and began to lift off. Vitus pulled a harness around her shoulders, somehow getting it into position while she struggled to make her limbs respond to the simple order of putting on a seat belt.

There was a click as he secured her in place and a second one as he took care of himself. Greer took them over the edge of the roof and up into the night sky as Damascus lost her grip and tumbled into unconsciousness.

*   *   *

“Ready for my two cents' worth?” Greer cut a look at Saxon as he kept the controls of the helicopter steady. All three men were watching the sky, because they all understood just how precarious their position was.

“If it involves a plan, yes,” Vitus responded.

“Dunn Bateson, heard of him?” Greer inquired.

Vitus bit back a word of profanity. “Yes.”

“He's a friend of mine,” Greer continued. “His jet's ready for a hop back to Vegas.”

“That sounds too good to be true.”

Greer made a sound in the back of his throat. “Yeah, every now and then, fate likes to hand out a little luck. But mostly because the bitch is enjoying watching us try to stay alive.”

“I'd have to agree with that,” Vitus replied. It was what they needed. One hour and they'd have Damascus in international waters. That would change the game rules, dramatically.

“Call him.” Vitus made the decision, catching a look from his brother as Greer fumbled with his cell phone.

*   *   *

“Wait.” Greer was still finishing up the last few details of shutting the helicopter down. The rotor was winding to a stop, allowing them all to remove their headsets.

The section of the airport they'd landed at was used by police, federal agents, and fire services. Men in uniform milled about as they made their way to an unmarked aircraft.

“There are cameras everywhere,” Saxon muttered, the sound of his voice making it clear he didn't like that fact.

“All we have to do is get across the airport to my buddy's plane,” Greer said.

“That's a tall order,” Saxon responded.

“Where's your sense of adventure?” Greer inquired.

Damascus looked out of the window, feeling like she was about to try to cross a war zone. It was a more modern form of battlefield, one that would have her trying to avoid smartphones and security cameras instead of bullets and land mines. “Where … are we going?”

At least her voice didn't sound as tattered as she felt.

“Off-grid,” Vitus said. He reached over and unsnapped the harness holding her in the seat. “Get down, behind the seat. We don't need your red hair seen.”

She slid off the seat, feeling every strained muscle and every scrape. Whatever she'd rolled through in the alley reeked, and the blood spotting her dress mixed with it made her want to gag. She hunched down in the footwell instead, finding herself grateful to the damn nutritionist again.

She was probably never eating cake again.

Vitus reached behind her and tugged the suit jacket Saxon had dropped over her shoulder up and over her head. She hated that the fabric blocked her view. Her heart accelerated as she battled the need to escape from the darkness. It was far worse now, panic clawing at her insides as she tried to force herself to remember that it was behind her now. She looked at Vitus, using the sight of him as an anchor.

“Think about Alaska in the summer.”

She blinked and moved her face so she could see Vitus through the opening of the front of the jacket where she was holding it closed. His expression was set, but she found that comforting because he was in control, something she desperately wanted to be.

“Alaska?” she inquired.

He turned and looked at her through a pair of sunglasses. “Eighteen hours of sunlight a day.”

“We'll get something to move her in,” Saxon said.

The two front doors of the helicopter opened and the aircraft jiggled like a rowboat on a lake as Saxon and Greer climbed down. Vitus moved his attention to the window, keeping his gaze moving, watching her, protecting her.