Hard Core (Onyx Group) (23 page)

Over Leya’s shoulder, she shot daggers at Gavin. “You didn’t
have to hurt her.”

“Stop with the bleeding heart. Did you think I wouldn’t keep
something as leverage?”

It had never crossed her mind, proving she really didn’t
know this man. “Where are you taking us?” Not knowing if she was out of range
or not, she decided to try and get details so Cristian could find them. It
bothered her he was no longer talking to her.

“Somewhere we won’t be found.”

“Where is that?”

Gavin settled back in his seat. “Somewhere far away from
here. You seem awfully curious all of a sudden. Why is that?”

“I deserve to know where you’re taking us.”

Gavin suddenly reached over and snatched the transmitter out
of her ear, taking a couple strands of hair with it.

Alana gasped and reared back.

“As I suspected.” Gavin rolled the window down and tossed
the transmitter onto the street.

“It seems we have company.”

Alana glanced out the back window to see Sam’s truck
barreling toward them. Cristian. Thank God.

“Who is coming?” Leya cried.

Alana patted her back. “Someone we can trust.”

Leya shook her head. “No, there is no one. They are all
dead.”

Fresh pain shot through her. “You’re not. I’m not. Hold it
together, Leya. We’re going to be safe. I promise.” The promise given in
Cristian’s honor. She believed with all her heart he could save them. When that
man set his mind to something, he didn’t stop.

“Lose them!” Gavin snapped to his driver. Then he turned to
Alana. “Have I underestimated your relationship with the mercenary?”

“Mercenary?” Leya repeated, her head coming up. “The man
from the island is here?”

Alana pushed her head back down and addressed Gavin. “There
is nothing between us.”

Gavin’s eyes narrowed into slits. “After the last time, I
should hope you learned your lesson. I will not share you, Alana. Have you
forgotten the rules?”

The car swerved right. Tires squealed. Alana bounced off the
door, a chill sweeping down her spine. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Good girl. I knew my instincts were right about you. You
realize, darling, how fine a team we’re going to make, don’t you?”

A team. With him kidnapping innocent people and her
harvesting their organs so he could sell them to the highest bidder. She
remained silent. Gavin didn’t need to know that no matter what, she was not
teaming up with him.

Turning her gaze to the window, she said a silent prayer
that Cristian would get to them before Gavin made good on his comment.

* * * *

“I can shoot out a tire.”

Slade sent Mercer a hard glance and turned his eyes back to
the road, his grip tightening on the wheel. “Not without endangering Alana’s
life.” The dark sedan fishtailed around a corner ahead of them, heading toward
the expressway. Horns blared as it cut off other cars.

With a sound of frustration, Mercer ducked inside the window
and laid his gun across his lap. “We can’t let them onto that freeway. It’s
rush hour.”

“I’m not losing her.”

Aware of Mercer’s gaze on him, Slade continued to watch the
road and the sedan. “Stop staring at me,” he snapped.

“You said ‘her’. You aren’t going to lose her. Not ‘them’
since there are two women in that sedan.”

The petite, dark skinned woman looked familiar, but he
couldn’t place her. Alana blocked his shot to save her. Obviously one of the
tribal women from the island, given the way Alana had reacted to seeing her. A
source of blackmail on Ross’s part. He knew Alana would do everything in her
power to protect the girl. Ross had counted on it and now he had them both.

“That’s what I meant.”

“No, it’s not. You’re in love with her.” The awe in Mercer’s
voice made Slade scowl.

“Slip of the tongue.”

Mercer held up a hand. “I’m not judging you. I like Alana.
She’s got guts.”

Slade couldn’t argue with that. She was a strong, brave
woman. Hard to not admire her after what she’d been through. “She has a life to
get back to.” He jerked the wheel, narrowly missing a small Honda. He would
follow the sedan to hell and back if it meant Alana was safe.

“You don’t think you fit in her life?”

“No.”

“Shouldn’t she have a say?”

Slade stomped on the brakes to avoid hitting an SUV that
pulled in front of him. He cast a glance at Mercer. “We’re mercenaries. We
don’t fit the happily ever after.”

“I’ve never heard you say those words.”

“What?”

“Happily ever after. You never talk like that.”

“I was making a point,” Slade groused.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting a happy ending. Who
wouldn’t, with a woman like Alana? She’s beautiful, talented, intelligent.”

“I made a promise to her father.” He pressed the gas pedal
and the truck shot up the ramp onto the busy expressway.

“So this is all part of that promise?”

Slade didn’t answer. He couldn’t. None of the rules applied
when it came to her.

“I think I’ll be careful not to promise any fathers to
protect their daughters in the future,” Mercer said. “Not if it means love and
marriage.”

“I said nothing about marriage.”

“That’s the natural order of things. Would it be so hard to
imagine?”

No, it wouldn’t, and that was the bitch of it. Because he
loved her, he had to let her go. She deserved a fair chance. With someone who
fit into her lifestyle. He was not that man. She saved lives, he took them. He
couldn’t ask her to accept what he did for a living.

“Drop it.” Slade changed lanes to tail the sedan.

Mercer held up his hands in surrender. “It’s dropped. Wonder
where they’re headed?”

“Hell if I know.”

“We could run him off the road.”

“Not here. Not without risking innocent lives.”

“A game of cat and mouse it is.”

“He’s driving like a maniac,” Slade muttered, switching
lanes with a jerk of the wheel.

“Dangerous…oh, shit! They’re going to collide!”

Time suspended. The sedan swerved into the outside lane,
gauged the distance wrong, and smashed into a white Cadillac, sending it
careening into the guardrail. It bounced, spun in a half-circle, and came back
around to slam into the back-end of the sedan with a sickening grind of metal.
With stunning force, the sedan flipped, jumping the cement divider to land on
its side in the opposing lane. Cars skidded to a stop to avoid hitting it,
ramming into each other in their efforts. Glass shattered, horns blared.

Heart in his throat, Slade slammed on the brakes, skidded to
a stop and stumbled out of the truck. Mercer whipped out his cellphone to call
911 and direct traffic. Slade’s boots pounded across warm pavement. He vaulted
over the hood of a Honda. Panic ripped at his chest. All he could think about
was Alana.

Pushing his way through stunned people, he shouted, “Alana!”
his voice hoarse with fear. The tires of the sedan were still spinning as he
ran up to it. Flames shot out the hood. Someone grabbed his arm to stop him,
but he shook it off. He jumped on the rear bumper, climbed across the trunk and
latched onto the rear passenger door handle. Ignoring the crunched metal, he
pulled with all his strength, cursed when it didn’t open.

Flames licked across the hood. Sunlight glared off the
window. No sound came from inside the car. Nothing but the frantic pounding of
his own heart. Reaching behind his back, he pulled his Glock. The same gun
Alana had refused to shoot. Pain tore through him. Pulling his arm back, he
prepared to smash the window. But someone saw the gun and screamed, “Gun!”

Numerous sets of hands tackled him to the ground, pressing
his face into the hot pavement. The gun was wrenched from his hand. “No,” he
shouted, fighting them. They dragged him clear of the car, now half engulfed in
flames.

Fear of losing Alana drove him forward. He knocked one man
down with a fist to the jaw, another to the midsection. When they released him,
he jumped onto the roof of the car, fingers scraping on jagged metal. He clawed
at the twisted metal, leaving red streaks where they bled.

“
Fuck!
” The door was jammed closed. The other side
rested on the pavement. No way in. No way to save her.

“Here, this might help,” someone offered.

Slade looked down from where he lay across the hood. An
elderly man with a bloody gash on the side of his head held out a tire iron. He
took it from his hand, ordering everyone back. The car could explode at any
minute if the flames reached the gas tank. The crowd shrank back.

With a grip on the iron, he pulled his arm back and brought
it down on the window, but it simply bounced off.  Again and again, he hit the
windshield until it splintered from the frame. Tossing the bar aside, he grabbed
the freed edge and bent it back far enough he could fit through. Heat from the
burning front end licked at him. Smoke blurred his vision.

“The car is gonna blow,” someone yelled.

Slade ignored the warning, sliding down to peer inside the
window, balanced on the edge. Ross was slumped in the seat. Blood covered the
side of his face. Pressed against the door were two lifeless forms. If not for
the cascade of red hair, he wouldn’t have been able to distinguish them.

“Alana.” Urgently, he spoke her name. Prayed he got an
answer.

She stirred, her head lifted. “Cristian?” she said groggily.

Relief surged through him, making his chest ache. “Can you
move?”

“I--oh my God. Leya! She’s not breathing. I think her neck
is broken.” Her breath hitched, on the edge of panic. There was movement inside
the car, then Alana’s tortured voice. “She’s dead.” Followed by a sob.

He hurt for her. “Alana, listen to me. We have to get you
out of the car. Can you move?” he asked again.

“Yes. I think my wrist is broken, but I can move. She’s
dead.”

“I know, Doc. I’m sorry about that, but we don’t have time.
You need to climb up and grab my hand.”

“It’s hot in here.”

His leg felt like it was inside a furnace. “Grab my hand.”

“Do I smell smoke? Oh God. I’m coming.”

She moved inside the car, climbed over her friend and fell
onto Ross, who still hadn’t moved. When she hesitated to press two fingers to
Ross’s neck, he cursed. “Come on, Alana, leave him.”

“I can’t. He’s still breathing.”

Flames beat at his leg and side. Slade felt the hairs on the
back of his neck bristle. Reaching in the window, he latched onto her arm. “The
car is going to blow.”

Seconds later, it did.

Alana opened her eyes with a cough, groaning as every muscle
in her body screamed in protest. She hurt all over and her ears were ringing.
Something warm seeped down her neck.

The car crash.

The explosion.

Bolting upright, she cried out in pain, remembering. A hand
gently stopped her from jumping to her feet. “Take it easy, Miss.”

An elderly woman leaned over her, her soft blue eyes full of
care and concern. A small crowd of people hovered. Smoke billowed behind them.
Sirens blared in the distance.

“Cristian.” Oh, God, where was Cristian? The last thing she
remembered was him dragging her out of the car and running. Then the world
exploded and went black.

“I’m sorry, dear--” the woman began, but Alana cut her off
in a rush, pushing to her feet. Sharp needles shot up her leg and she gasped,
her knees buckling. She fell hard on the ground, slapping at the hands trying
to help her. “No. I have to find him.”

“You’re in no shape to move,” someone said.

Alana ignored them and tried to get to her feet one more
time.

“Get your hands off me.” Pushing them away, she rose to her
knees. Blood dripped down her neck onto her shirt. Pain like she’d never
experienced drove through her body.

“She’s out of her mind.”

“Let her go.”

Alana blocked out the voices, searching frantically for
Cristian amongst the wreckage. She limped a step, which hurt like hell. There
was devastation all around her. Cars smashed, some turned over. Glass and metal
shards littered the road everywhere she looked. People stood around, dazed,
staring at what was left of their vehicles. But she didn’t see Cristian.

“Ma’am, let us help you.”

Shaking off the hand touching her elbow, she blinked away
tears and shuffled another step, ignoring the pain.

“Alana.”

Mercer rushed toward her. “Mark,” she sobbed, stumbled, and
fell to her knees again. Broken leg, she thought absently, as Mercer’s arms
folded around her. He smelled of smoke.

Grabbing the front of his shirt she demanded, “Where’s
Cristian?”

“Over there. He’s fine, Alana.”

Needing to see for herself, she peered over his shoulder.
“Where? I can’t see him.” Her hand twisted in his shirt. “Take me to him.”

“Your leg is broken. You probably have a concussion. You
were supposed to stay put.”

“Now, Mercer.”

Heaving a sigh, he guardedly lifted her and rose to his
feet. Biting down on her lip to stifle a sob of pain, she cradled one wrist and
held on to his neck with the other.

“Slade is going to behead me for this,” he muttered,
striding through the parted crowd.

Alana didn’t hear him. She searched the faces for Cristian.
If there had been any doubt before whether she loved him, there was none now.
She couldn’t imagine life without him.

“My God,” she whispered, looking at the devastation around
her. “Gavin did this.”

“Yes, he did,” Mercer growled.

“I have to help them. After I find Cristian…I have to help.”

“You can’t walk, Doc. You need medical attention yourself. There
he is.”

She looked over to see Cristian being loaded onto a
stretcher. Another ambulance, lights flashing, pushed its way through traffic
toward. “You said he was fine. Put me down.” Struggling in his arms, she fought
to be free.

Mercer’s grip tightened and he didn’t put her down. “He’s
fine. Just got the wind knocked out of him.”

“They wouldn’t be loading him on a stretcher if that was
all. What happened to him?”

Mercer scowled. “He pulled you free of the car and went back
to save a disoriented man who wandered too close.”

“I’m not a child, Mark. You don’t have to sugarcoat it for
me. How injured is he?”

“Yes, I do,” Mercer said quietly.

Heart in her throat, Alana stared into his somber, golden
eyes. “He’s not okay, is he?”

“No.”

Tears filled her eyes. “How bad?”

“He was too close to the explosion. He lost a lot of blood.
It doesn’t look good.”

Alana shook her head. “No,” she whispered. It couldn’t be
true. She couldn’t lose him now. They had been through too much together. He’d
survived an infected gunshot wound in a jungle environment, for heaven’s sake!
Who did he think he was, playing hero and almost getting himself killed?

Anger replaced her tears and she wiped them away. “Take me
to him.”

“I don’t think--”

“Now.”

Clenching his jaw, Mercer carried her to the ambulance. A
paramedic climbing into the back with Cristian glanced at Alana and climbed
back out. “Is she hurt?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Alana answered. “I need to see the man you just
loaded in the ambulance.”

The paramedic glanced at Mercer. “We don’t have much time.”

Upon her request, Mercer lifted her into the ambulance.
Sliding to Cristian’s side, she bit back a sob, trying not to notice the blood
covering him or the pallor of his skin. His eyes were closed, lashes dark
against high cheekbones. She forced her eyes away from the white bandage
circling his head.

Wrapping his hand in hers, hating how lifeless it was, she
leaned over him. Not strong and sure like the man she knew. “Oh, Cristian,” she
whispered, wishing he would open his eyes or squeeze her hand. “Don’t leave
me.”

A tear landed on his cheek. When he didn’t respond, her head
fell onto his chest and she held him, willing him to order her to stop crying.
Scowl at her. Hold her. But he did none of those things.

“Why did you have to be a hero?” Broken, she held him
tighter, longing to feel his strong arms around her. He hated it when she cried
and she wanted him to tell her so right now. She wanted him back to gruff and
overbearing, taking control of the situation.

“Alana, come on.” A hand squeezed her shoulder, pulled her
gently away from the man she was terrified to lose.

She didn’t fight, anger once again filling her like a
disease. Glaring at Mercer, she said, “Gavin doesn’t get to win this. He
doesn’t get to take Cristian away from me too.”

Mercer nodded as he lifted her out of the ambulance so the
paramedic could climb in. “I’ll hunt you down if he doesn’t make it,” she told
the EMT as the doors closed.

From Mercer’s arms she watched the ambulance swerve through
traffic and speed away, her heart going with it.

“Take me to him,” she ordered.

“You need to be treated.”

“There aren’t enough paramedics here to treat everyone.
Others need them more than I do. I’m fine. Please, Mercer. I have to go with
Cristian.”

After a moment, he nodded and carried her to Sam’s truck.

* * * *

A cast on her ankle, a sling on her arm, Alana glanced at
the monitor hanging above Cristian’s bed for the hundredth time that day.
Mercer had insisted she be treated when they arrived at the hospital. He’d left
no room for argument and refused to let her see Cristian until she did, so
she’d angrily agreed, cursing stubborn mercenaries. The reasonable part of her
knew she needed to get her injuries tended, but the irrational part wanted only
to be with Cristian. They’d rushed him into surgery immediately for internal
bleeding. He’d only just gotten out a couple hours ago, but he had yet to
regain consciousness.

Lying in the narrow bed connected to wires and monitors,
unmoving, his head bandaged, made her realize how mortal he really was. She’d
thought him too stubborn to let anything keep him down. Too vital. But here he
was, lost inside himself.

Lacing her fingers through his, she murmured, “Fight it,
Cristian. Come back to me.”

No response. Not a flicker of movement. She refused the
disappointment rising like a tidal wave inside her. It was early yet. The
anesthesia had only just worn off. Then he should be awake, the doctor inside
her reminded.

The door behind her opened. She looked up, expecting to see
a nurse coming in to check Cristian’s vital signs, but Mercer strode in, a
paper cup in hand.

“Thought you could use this,” he said, handing it to her.

She reluctantly let go of Cristian’s hand to accept it.
“Thanks.” Hospital coffee was nothing new to her. She had lived on it during
her internship, as had every other intern. They often drank it cold and old,
needing the caffeine boost and not the taste. This coffee was no different than
she remembered.

“Anything yet?”

“No.”

She studied him, noticing a subtle shift in his demeanor
from earlier. “What’s wrong?”

He sipped his coffee and said nothing.

“Mark. Tell me.”

His gaze moved from Cristian to her. “It’s Ross.”

The name made her go cold. “Gavin is dead.” No way did he
survived the explosion.

“They only found one body in the car. A woman.”

The bomb dropped. Her vision blurred. Leya. Her friend.
Killed in the crash by the monster who’d murdered so many she cared about. Her
heart ached for the innocent girl. And every other person whose life Gavin had
stolen. “No. That can’t be true. He was still in the car when Cristian pulled
me out. I remember climbing over him.” But as hard as she tried, she couldn’t
remember after that. The car explosion had knocked her unconscious.

She looked at Mercer. “The driver?”

“We think he pulled Ross free before the car exploded.”

Of course. Gavin’s employees had always been loyal. Out of
fear or consent, she couldn’t be sure. Either way, they would die for their
boss. Despair settled heavy and full in her chest.

Looking at Cristian she said absently, “This is never going
to end, is it?”

There was a light rap on the door. Sam Ryden and Rick Sarver
walked in.

“Sam,” she cried softly, rising to her feet. She set her
coffee on the bedside table and walked awkwardly on her cast over to him. He drew
her into his arms. “What are you doing here? Caleb needs you.” Of all
Cristian’s friends, Sam made her the most comfortable. Maybe because they
formed a bond through his brother. Whatever the reason, she was happy to see
him.

He released her from the hug. “Caleb can take care of
himself.” A glance at her casted foot had him nudging her back to her chair.
“You need us more. Sit down. You shouldn’t be walking on that foot.”

“It’s only a sprain.” Still, she sat down, too drained to
stand. “I suppose Mark called you both?”

Sam nodded, glanced at Mercer sipping his coffee. Sarver
leaned a shoulder against the wall, silent.

“Dave is still under protection?”

“Fortier and a couple of his brothers are handling it. The
threat is to you, Alana.”

Unwilling to think about that right now, she grasped
Cristian’s hand. “And you are my bodyguards,” she guessed, an ache in her chest
because Cristian wasn’t able to do it. She was familiar with this routine now,
she knew what it meant.

“Right,” Sam agreed. “We’re going to post two at your door
and the other will…well--”

She shook her head, interrupting. “Go hunting. I know how
this works and I’m okay with it. Gavin has stolen too much from me to be a
bleeding heart now.”

Sarver, who kept glancing at the bed, suddenly pushed from
the wall. “I’ll take first post.” He abruptly left the room.

Alana frowned at his sudden departure.

“He’s a little spooked,” Sam explained. “After Fortier’s
accident, I guess we’ve all been. Hospitals are like landmines for us. We avoid
them at all costs.”

Just like Cristian and needles. She knew about hospital and
doctor phobias. Many people had them.

“So, what now?”

“Well, we go where you go. Cristian is registered under an
assumed name. I don’t think Ross will come after him. He’ll go for you first.”

In her heart, she knew it to be true. Gavin would come for
her. He would make it his mission in life. He still needed her and he wouldn’t
stop until he got what he wanted.

“I have nowhere to go but here.”

“I have a key to Slade’s penthouse,” Mercer said. “He would
want you there.”

Mercer was right. Cristian would want her somewhere safe.
The thought of sleeping in his bed without him made her feel very alone.

“I want to stay here.”

“You know that isn’t an option.” Sam’s voice was gentle, but
not a suggestion.

Alana’s shoulders slumped. “I know. I still want to. What if
he wakes up and I’m not here?”

“The hospital staff will call. Arrangements have already
been made.”

Looking at Cristian, she murmured, “Thank you.” She hadn’t
given any thought to what she would do outside the hospital. Not without him,
anyway.

Sam squeezed her shoulder. “You have nothing to worry about.
We’ll take care of everything.”

Again, she felt helpless. Something that never used to
happen. This situation made her feel completely out of her element. Not even
learning new procedures in medical school had made her feel so inept.

“I don’t want you to,” she said with a tiny sigh.

The door opened again and a pretty young nurse walked in.
Startled by the addition of Sam and probably intimidated by Sarver outside the
door, she stopped short, glanced at Sam, then at Alana. A blush spread across
her cheeks. Alana hid a smile. She understood how intimidating a room full of
testosterone could be.

“I just need to check his IV and vitals.”

“Come in,” Alana invited. “Don’t worry about them. They’re
friends.” And hired guns. “Shift change?”

“Yes, sorry, I should have introduced myself. I’m Beth. I’ll
be Mr. Reynolds’ nurse until seven AM.”

The night shift already. Had she really been here all
afternoon? “Hi, Beth. I’m Alana.”

Beth smiled in greeting as she marked down numbers off the
monitor. Quietly, she said, “Visiting hours are over at eight o’clock. Is this
your husband?”

“No.” Just the man she loved.

“Then I can’t let you stay. I’m so sorry.”