Handcuffed by Her Hero (35 page)

She cut him off by pressing her
palm to his jaw. “You know where to get me. You know you can call any time, Z.”

The caramel warmth that entered
his gaze melted her blood to the same consistency. She wanted to strip right
here and take a bath in it—but in her fantasy, she’d only gotten her heels off
before Garrett charged up and grabbed them both. His handsome face was alive
with a manic combination of emotions.

“Franz is here. I just saw his
truck pull up.”

“Thank fuck,” Zeke answered.

“No shit.” Garrett snatched the
bouquet from her and passed it off to Heidi, who’d just shown up with a gleeful
grin on her face. “Is it okay if we skip your walk down the aisle, Ray? They’ve
bumped up the snow call by two hours, and I want my bride’s lips pink, not
blue, for that first smack I’m gonna give them.”

“Not a problem.” She actually
blew out a relieved breath. Having to pace down that white runner with Zeke waiting
at the end next to Garrett was a pill of heartache she wasn’t looking forward
to swallowing.

Garrett kissed her cheek. “Good
girl.”

Did she hear a threatening rumble
come from Z’s chest at that?

There was no time for the
contemplation. After Heidi assured them that the major was ready and she’d
personally fuss over Sage’s final details, Rayna had no choice but to rush for
the altar with Garrett and Zeke. The quartet segued into their processional
song, Pachelbel’s
Canon in D
. The ribbons on the altar blew softly. A
fine layer of mist still covered the ground. The crowd quietly buzzed with
excitement. Rayna waved at many friendly faces from the base, as well as
Garrett’s Uncle Wyatt and Aunt Josie, whose belly was round with their own
child.

As soon as Franzen joined them,
everything would be set.

John Franzen appeared, all right.

He was dirty, sweaty, wild-eyed—and
wearing nothing but a torn khaki T-shirt, scuffed shorts, and his combat boots.

Rayna joined the crowd in a gasp
of shock. She looked over to Zeke, who motioned her to join them on the groom’s
side of the aisle. As she did, Franz grabbed Garrett by both shoulders, his
Maori-tatted biceps bulging with tension.

“Holy fuck. You
are
getting married.”

Garrett’s jaw worked but nothing
came out for another fifteen seconds. “Uh…yeah. Like we talked about yesterday,
Captain? After you texted me the alert about the op?”

Franzen had big eyes, but they
bulged even wider. “The
what
?”

“The operation. As in the
mission?” Garrett exchanged a look with Z that went beyond perplexed. If Rayna
guessed it right, they hovered together in the realm of alarm.

“What mission?”

“Captain.” He reached for
Franzen’s shoulder but the man violently shirked him off. “Don’t you remember?
We pop smoke tomorrow. You told us to prep for heat and bugs. You texted
everyone about it, except Zeke—”

“Who I pulled off the AWOL list.”

At least the man said that with
conviction. But after that, his strong face dissolved once more into confusion
and loss. He gazed at the crowd like they were an army of enemy robots he’d
have to fight with his bare hands any second.

“Right,” Garrett confirmed.

“Which I did an hour ago.”

“Which you did over
twenty-four
hours ago.”

“Holy shit.” He scraped a huge
hand over his close-shaved skull. “That’s the last thing I remember doing.” His
confession was a tight rasp.

Zeke leaned forward. “Before
what?”

“Before I woke up this morning.”
He swallowed hard. “In a room that looked like Shakespeare threw up. In Las Vegas.”

“In
Vegas
?” Zeke and
Garrett fired it off together. Incredulity sharpened their faces.

Franz nodded. “Yeah. My thoughts
exactly. I was buck fucking naked. There was only this shit to wear. My phone,
wallet, money, and tags were on the nightstand. I still had exactly
ninety-three dollars in cash. Nothing was tampered with—except my phone. When I
read the texts that
I
supposedly exchanged with Hawk, I knew some bad
wango-tango had gone down.”

“What the hell?” Zeke muttered.

“Why didn’t you text me then?”
Garrett asked.

“After I woke up naked on satin
sheets, half expecting some sugar daddy to prance in and call me stud muffin? I
had no idea what they might have done to
you
, Hawk. Or if those messages
were even from you anymore.”

“Valid points,” Zeke concurred.

“Christ,” Garrett said, shaking
his head with obvious disbelief. “How did you get back?”

“Found a couple of new boots
hanging in the casino, who gave me a lift to Nellis.” He fixed Garrett with a
dark stare and a tight jaw. “You say I had a whole conversation with you? As
in, we talked?”

Garrett nodded. “Franz, it was
you.”

“How did I sound?”

“Happy for Sage and I.” Suddenly,
Garrett’s eyes narrowed. “But…distracted. Really distracted.”

“Or drugged,” Franz growled.

As if someone punched a turbo
boost on his focus, Zeke’s demeanor zapped from active listener to decisive leader.
“Someone needed to completely control your narrative,” he asserted at Franz.
His shoulders tensed as he adapted the same battle-ready pose as his CO. “Someone
who needed you out but not dead, who didn’t want the mess of murdering you.
Someone who knew you’d be a non-issue as soon as they used you to make us all
think a mission was going down.”

“But why?” Garrett questioned.

Franzen wheeled decisively. “They
wanted Z back in play.”

Zeke didn’t return his CO’s
scrutiny—because his had swung to Rayna. She gulped hard. His face was full of sharp,
glinting fear and a pleading, parted mouth. “No,” he uttered. “They weren’t
after me. They were after Rayna.”

“
Garrett!
”

Rayna’s body turned to ice as her
friend’s cry shattered the air. Zeke seized her and dragged her next to him.
That didn’t stop her from shuddering from head to toe as she forced her stare
down the aisle, looking to where Sage now stood—

In Mua’s grip.

Do not let her
go. Do not let her go. Do not let her go.

As the self-imposed command
thundered in his mind, Z’s body shifted into moves his muscles remembered from
thousands of repetitions. “Down!” he bellowed. “Everyone down now!”

He did the same but not before
wrenching Rayna under him first. Immediately he looked up to locate Garrett,
though he could’ve written the script for what his damn fool friend did. The
guy had his gun in his hand and his heart on his fucking sleeve before he took two
steps up the aisle. Zeke dropped his face into Rayna’s hair, expecting to
endure Sage’s horrified scream any moment. He was certain Mua hadn’t come
alone, meaning there was a small army of henchmen ready to drill Hawk full of
lead any second.

Sure enough, Sage’s cry sprang
through the air. It was pitched in pure joy. Zeke gaped as she ran from Mua,
sprinted straight up the aisle, and leapt into Garrett’s arms. Her shriek was
joined by the heavy shouts of his men—Ethan, Tait, Kell, Rhett, Rebel—along
with the dozen other soldiers in attendance at the wedding, now with pistols locked
on members of Mua’s force. Not a single shot had been fired.

Not yet.

“Freeze, asshole!”

Having heard Franz roar those
words a few hundred times, Z nearly chuckled at this rendition. The syllables
rang with a distinct overtone of glee, especially because Ethan, having tossed
his own pistol to Franz, now wielded the M4 he’d pilfered from Garrett’s loaded
mission pack—right at the middle of Mua’s spine.

Yeah, the situation had
let’s-all-laugh-and-congratulate-ourselves all over it. But nobody did. Zeke
glanced around. Everybody was stopped by the same glaring questions that he
was.

Why, if Mua’s team had the
element of surprise, did they all drop and surrender so fast?

Why had Mua simply let Sage go?

Why the fuck was the man even still
here in the city…in the
country
?

And most importantly, why did the
shiny-suited bastard look more peaceful than the goddamn egrets about it all?

Trying to deduce any answers made
his gut writhe and his blood boil.

Because all the answers led back
to Rayna.

Mua clucked at Franzen while
slowly raising his hands. “My goodness, Captain,” he intoned. “Touchy,
touchy—especially for a man who’s had such a long and pleasant nap.”

“Pleasant, my ass,” Franz
growled.

Mua tilted his head and eyed the
captain’s shorts. “Hmm. Your ass certainly
does
look nice from here, but
do we wish to digress at the present moment?”

Z could feel Franz’s blood
pressure rocket from where he still crouched over Rayna. She winced and
squirmed a little. He pressed a gentle hand on her back. “Bird? Are you hurt?”

“N-no.” She used the same whisper
he had. “But shit—Zeke—”

“Then don’t move a fucking
muscle. Do you understand me?”

She went still beneath him.

“Good girl.”

Oh, yeah. That sounded way better
coming from his lips instead of Garrett’s.

A gust of chilled wind blew in
off the lake. Zeke sniffed. There was snow on the air. It was coming soon, and
it wasn’t going to be light, fluffy and pretty. It was going to be Seattle
snow, soggy and messy—just like this entire confrontation if they didn’t soon
congeal this walking pond scum into some wrist and ankle cuffs.

Thank God Franz was tuned to the
same frequency. Like the pissed off bronze dragon he sometimes resembled, their
CO boomed, “The only place you’re digressing is onto the ground, Mua. On your
stomach now, unless you want me to do the honors. I haven’t dissected a worm
since eighth grade. It’ll be a lot of fun.”

Z snarled with deep approval but didn’t
dial back an ounce of vigilance, a precaution justified by Mua’s reaction to
Franz. The dickwad chuckled like a damn game show host.

“While I enjoy your colorful
banter, Franzen, the answer is no.”

“Is that so?” Franz nodded at
Ethan, who loaded the M4’s chamber. “I don’t think you have a lot of choice
here, scumbag.”

“Choices are so subjective,” Mua
drawled, “are they not?”

Zeke grunted, his frustration
mounting. “He’s stalling!” he yelled. “Get the bastard and his latrine logs out
of here!”

His burst caused a noticeable
rustle among Mua’s men. Though they all still knelt at the ends of his team’s
guns, they glanced his way with unmistakable interest. Odd behavior from guys
who’d just been likened to excrement and were bound for federal prison as
accessories to Mua’s crimes.

“Ah-ha,” Mua called. “Sergeant
Hayes. Seattle’s newest celebrity. Come out, come out, wherever you are.” He
concluded with the words that connected him to the motive Z had dreaded behind
all this. “And while you’re at it, please bring Ms. Chestain along, as well.”

“Suck my dick, Mua.”

“You both stay put, Zsycho,”
boomed Franz. Zeke watched him direct the other guys to round up Mua’s men and
lead them into the reception tent. “These mates will be leaving the party soon.”
Without taking his eyes off Mua, he called out again, “Ladies and gentlemen, we
hope that directive will include you soon, as well. Until we know what mischief
our friends are up to, we don’t want to endanger anybody. Thank you for your
patience.”

Surprisingly, that phrase cut
loose the opposite effect on Mua. The man released a savage yip, his face
twisting tight. “Your presumptions disgust me, Franzen. I’m a businessman, not
a fucking savage. Set the peasants free. They mean nothing to me.”

“Which is why you’d think nothing
of blowing them all up to get what you want.”

The accusation made a bunch of
women in the crowd whimper. Beneath him, Rayna didn’t make a move or a sound.
He only knew she was terrified because his hand was flattened beneath her
breasts, feeling every terrified thrum of her heart. “It’s going to be okay.” He
pressed every word to her ear in a determined whisper.

“Franzen, you know what I want.” Mua’s
voice was still a lethal drawl. “Let’s stop wasting each other’s time.”

Zeke watched Franz widen his
stance and steady his gun. “Sergeants Weston and Chestain aren’t on this
bargaining table.”

“
Acchh
. Weston isn’t my
concern anymore.” He waved a dismissive hand. “As much as I would relish
watching the little bitch scream for the part she played in King’s demise, I
am, as stated, a businessman. A knocked-up slut is of no use to me.” The slick
surety slid down to his lips. “There. Now I have sliced your dilemma in half.”

“You’ve changed nothing.” Franz
took a careful step toward him. “We’re done with this bullshit.”

“Why don’t you let Sergeant
Chestain be the arbiter of that?”

“I told you already, asshole.
Rayna doesn’t come anywhere near this discussion.”

“She might disagree with you,
Franzen.” Though Mua complied with the shove Ethan gave him, driving him down
to his knees, his smile didn’t waver. Zeke craned his neck, determined to keep
watching the bastard even if he had to do it through a sea of folding chairs
and a shitload of aisle ribbons. “She might really disagree with you, once she
asks Zeke how his little wound is doing.”

Z’s chest suddenly throbbed.
Though the pain was real, it was intensified by the horror that now tiptoed out
from the edges of his brain and laughed at him in full, wicked glory. It had
been lurking there since yesterday—since the moment Luna had hugged him and
“accidentally” bumped his injury. He’d had enough gouges taken out of him over
the years to know that a “bump” wasn’t supposed to yield the kind of pain he’d
experienced after that—but he’d written off his suspicions to the stress of the
wedding and the stupidity of being paranoid about everything from hangnails to
overly-friendly trash collectors.

“Holy shit,” he choked.

Rayna threw a stunned stare back
at him. “Z? What—what is it?”

He wasn’t being paranoid.

It wasn’t just a bump.

It hadn’t been just an accident.

“It’s a chip.” He tore off his
tie and ripped free the top buttons of his dress shirt. “Holy fuck. It makes
sense now.” With his shirt loosened, he could finally get at his upper back. He
instantly went for Rayna’s careful bandage work—and clawed it off. “They got it
into me during the bust-up on Saturday night. It was why that round-faced
asshole let me go at him with the chain like that. He was using that chance to put
it into me.” He looked down at Rayna, still so goddamn gorgeous and perfect
against the grass, and he struggled to form clear thoughts. Even
one
clear thought.

“
What
?” she demanded. “He
put what into you? Damn it Zeke, what is it?”

He met her gaze directly. “A
tracking chip.”

“A
what
?”

Her shriek blew their location
even if her bolt upright didn’t. Zeke grabbed both her wrists, keeping her
pinned to the ground at least, but the action didn’t help this time. It didn’t
stop the coil of dread that unfurled now at exponential speed, pulling all his
logic from him…all his control.

“They knew we were up at the
cabin the whole time.” He let her go to claw again at the wound, tearing at his
skin, grimacing from the pain but continuing on. “They knew because of me. Every
move we made. They were probably watching us the whole time.”

Mua’s evil was inside him.

Being used against Rayna.
Against
Rayna.

He clawed harder at his back.

“Zeke!” The fear in Rayna’s voice
drew him back to her. “Stop it! You’re tearing yourself up!”

Mua’s hearty laugh burst down the
aisle as if they’d merely shown up late at a cocktail party. “Ahhh, there she
is! Rayna, my dear, how lovely you are. The royal hues suit you well.”

“Shut up,” Franzen ordered.
“Archer, if he so much as sneezes again, fill his ass full of lead then make
your way to his brain. Slowly.”

“Roger,” Ethan uttered. “Gladly.”

“No!”

Before Zeke could move, Rayna
squirmed free of him with frantic fury. She threw off her heels and started
racing down the aisle. He bellowed her name, making it an unmistakable order to
stop, but if the fury in her head matched the wrath of her steps, she was too
consumed to hear or care. He stumbled to his feet and went after her. Too late.
The little lunatic swept right past Franzen and launched herself at Mua,
slapping him hard across the face.

“What the hell have you done to
him?” She swung her hand the other way, clipping him with a backhand that made
even Z’s eyes bug. “I’m here, you giant ball of stinking rat sweat, so spit it
out.” When Mua didn’t make a sound or lift a single finger at her, she seethed,
“You think you can get at us with a stupid little tracking chip? Is that your
idea of playing rough, Mua? Oooo, I’m really scared now.”

Zeke took a stance next to Franz.
After his CO assured himself Z was okay, he lurched to pull the plug on the
confrontation with Rayna. Zeke backhanded the man’s chest. “Let her run with
this.” Part of him was proud as hell of her for standing up to the vermin who’d
sent his goons after her in the street in front of Bastille. But another part
sensed, as deep as the cells of his blood, that Mua had more in this game than
tracking them here. The mongrel was obsessed with her. That much was clear now.
He wasn’t leaving the country unless Rayna was with him. But where was his
leverage for making that happen? Rayna had just paraphrased as much, and the
confidence of it followed every step she paced in front of Mua now. Z watched
every move she made, ready to pounce if the asswipe even swayed her direction.

“Okay, since you won’t talk,
asshole, I will,” she continued. “I’ve got a scalpel in the basic kit in my car
that’ll get that ridiculous chip out. Thirty minutes after they haul your
sorry, skinny buttocks into the darkest hole they can find for you, I’ll have
that thing out of Zeke.” She stopped and leaned over him. “Whatever your
purpose was here—blackmail, fear tactics, I don’t know—won’t work anymore, Mua.
None of it ever did. Your media smear tactic for Z didn’t work. Tracking us
into the mountains didn’t, either. And now, this pathetic attempt at hijacking
a wedding is your most stupid idea yet. You’re done.”

Zeke longed to let out a whoop of
triumph before swooping her into his arms and kissing her blind. But he waited.
And watched. Something about the subtle quirks at the edges of Mua’s lips held
him back from unlatching the last chain on his jubilance.

Damn it.

The man’s quirks turned into soft
chuckles. Then a burst of laughter.

“Oh, little Rayna, how you amuse
me,” Mua finally sneered. With a teasing bite of his lower lip, he went on, “I
thank you for the clever recap of all our recent adventures. But I guarantee
this is only the beginning of a colorful journey for us both.”

Rayna crossed her arms and smiled.
“You’re going to prison, Mua. For good this time.”