Honey Moon (20 page)

Keltz looked as deadpan as ever. “Dexter. I want your cooperation. Go online the moment I disconnect. Explain you owe your life to mistaken identity, that the odds are such luck as that shan’t happen again, and you need everyone’s help locating culprits.” The admiral’s eyes glittered. “There are over a thousand LC affiliates on the list I’m sending you—two hundred or more still at large. The attachment is programmed to accept upgrades. If a line goes through the pic beside the name, they’ve been apprehended.”

“You want me to post, hoping readers will provide tips on whereabouts?”

“Obviously,” Keltz said in a dry voice. “Direct them to the links in the margins of the alphabetical list. Billions are logged into
In the Loop.
Mere thousands on United Government sites. We need the public’s help.”

In other words, narc on neighbors. Create even more distrust and anger within households reeling from loved ones either dead or suffering survivor shock. But if these LC employees aided those who’d devised the means for mass murder, the least a whistleblower could do was help clean up the aftermath. Sam swallowed hard. “Understood.”
I guess.
“Where are you taking us?”

“A stop and drop at a secured medical facility to unload Harding, then coordinates for a rooftop within proximity of a safe house will be sent to the pilot. ETA in fifteen.”

Secured like the last medical center was? Sam glanced at Kurt. Off view of the phone’s monitor, the guy shook his head.

“I want to stay with Lav,” Jenna told Keltz. “Until he’s awake and not in any danger.”

There goes the honeymoon. Again
.

“What’s his status?” Keltz asked.

The WS man unpropped his tall, muscled form from the wall beside Sam. The guy hustled over to Thomas, who bent over Harding, perhaps checking his pulse, then hurried back. “Medic says he’ll be out for hours.”

Sam plastered on his dopey grin. “Why waste a minute to land, hover over the medical center and toss Harding out of the chopper? That’ll wake him up.”

Jenna matched Keltz with the eye roll. “Apprehending conspirators is top priority, Dexter. I expect your post viral. Immediately.” Keltz disconnected.

Sam stared at the phone coiled in his palm, a sleeping eel about to wake and snap down on his pulsating wrist. Once he entered passcodes, they’d be sure to flash on a screen in front of Keltz, no matter what privacy laws said. Any working phone on this chopper would be compromised.

The government agent arched her brows. “Hit the attach-app and upload.” She smiled. “My name’s Lander. Want help?”

Duh. Like I haven’t been on the Net before I could walk.
He ignored her, turning to Jenna, whose grip on his arm had grown tight enough to cut off circulation.

“A thousand LC workers?” Jenna murmured. “Many will likely prove innocent of anything other than being oblivious or looking the other way. Outing them to an incensed public…? Well, don’t you think that’d lead to vigilante justice?”

“My wife’s family wants blood.” Kurt scrubbed a hand across his eyes. “Can’t say I don’t feel the same. But Linda’s dead. Nothing can change that. Beating or killing employees of the LC who may be as clueless to the puppeteers pulling their strings as I was, won’t help me sleep any better. Plus, giving opportunity to any liar with an ax to grind is rather whacked.”

Kurt glanced at Harding’s collapsed form and shifted his brooding gaze back to Sam. “Here’s a paranoid question. Since when do our leaders ask a blogger for help?”

The agent—Lander—drew her head back. “Whoa. He’s got a point. Couldn’t the admiral spam everyone like the governments usually do?”

Sam’s heart sank. “Using
In the Loop
to advertise a list of bad guys gives credibility. Fans who trust the blog—trust
me
—will have specific faces to focus their rage on.”

“Yeah.” Kurt snarled. “I bet addresses and last known whereabouts are in the fine print beside the pics. And…take these suspicions a step further?”

“You’re wondering if this rescue is a sham.” Jenna twisted her fingers at her side, grasping at the blood-spattered gown. “That we, key witnesses, are about to die, as hundreds of potentially innocent employees of the LC are torn apart by mobs?”

“Is something wrong?”

Sam startled. He hadn’t noticed Thomas leaving Harding. The medic hovered too close to Sam, a concerned look on his face. “Better hurry and do as the admiral said. We arrive at a medical center in ten.” Thomas smirked and slapped Sam on the shoulder. “Then I hear you, my man, are on to an exclusive hotel that provides toys, pills, all that. Despite the most comfortable beds on Earth, you’ll be up,” he winked, “and hard for as long as you want. The least you deserve is a proper honeymoon, right?”

I deserve to get fucked in comfort?
Entitled because he’d survived and gotten the girl. Sam’s stomach clenched as anger flashed across Kurt’s face, and a blushing Jenna ducked her head. He’d been thinking with his dick since he’d stepped into that bar. How could anyone lose sight that this day—supposed to be the happiest of their lives for thousands of couples—had been the worst?

The medic’s wide smile turned sickly. “We’re almost there, Sam. Enter your codes and I’ll load the attachment while you kiss your wife.” Thomas glanced at Jenna and shrugged. “And if she doesn’t change her mind, wants to stay in hospital with him,” he gestured at Harding and continued talking to Sam as if Jenna wasn’t sitting right there, “I’ll fight off all that pussy dying to take her place. Keep the bed warm for her.” He rested his hand on Sam’s shoulder, the bad-boy leer returned to his face. “Hey, after you’re done posting, let’s check out pics of the shuttle landing. Amazing how fast those young tangs got shirts printed.”

Sam jerked away. His jaw dropped for the umpteenth time
. Crude bastard. How many people am I gonna want to kill this day?

“How’d you know about the list?” Lander bristled at Thomas, reassuring Sam he wasn’t the only one who wanted to punch out the medic. “You couldn’t hear us talking.”

Thomas stepped back. “Yes I could. What’s your problem? You want in his bed, too? Well, bite me, sister. A lot of competition, but Dexter isn’t a fool. Can’t imagine any guy would want to fuck a brown coat on a day like today.” He shifted his glare from the government agent to Sam. “Upload already, will you?” Thomas spun on his heel and returned to crouch beside Harding, his back to them.

Lander drew a sharp breath and whispered, “He’s been using his phone and he’s on it now. That means…”

“Like you, he’s government,” Kurt growled as Lander narrowed her gaze at him. “Not saying you’re in on this, but he must be. He answers to that admiral. We’re screwed. In the air and about to die. Again.”

Sam stiffened. His chest ached, every bone and muscle including his heart.
Balls. I’m so stupid.
It’d all been too easy. Getting alone time with Jenna, manipulated into thinking exchanging wedding vows had been his idea. Keltz had played him for a lovesick sap.

Then, worst of all, concluding Harding had taken bullets meant for him. The shooter had only failed at two things—a lethal shot and getting away. The flaws in the scheme for Sam to blindly sanction who’d go down for crimes was Jenna knowing a LC employee, and not eliminating Harding at first attempt.

Why else sedate a gunshot victim with a possible concussion? Keep Harding unconscious but breathing so the rest of them remained calmly clueless, then get rid of the employee once he’d been isolated, so Harding couldn’t protest to Sam that he knew people on that list who were as duped concerning the LC as he’d been.

Balls
. What if Harding wasn’t breathing? Murdered while they sat watching? He bounced to his feet. “Get off him,” he bellowed at Thomas and hurried forward. In a burst of rippling silver, the WS man stood between Sam and the medic. The guy seized Sam’s arm.

Thomas straightened from his crouch, and raised his angry gaze from his wrist phone. “Goddamn idiots. Forty seconds left.”

“Until what?” Sam jerked his arm but the silent security wouldn’t let go. “You kill that man?”

“Does it matter? We’re all dead, you imbecile.” Thomas groaned. “That blog post isn’t live in thirty-nine seconds and this chopper will be nuked.”

Sam’s heart stopped. The WS man released him and Sam raised his hand, the wrist phone still clasped in it.

“Come on, Dexter. Please,” cried Thomas.

“Don’t do it,” Jenna called out. She stood between Kurt and Lander, both grasping an arm, and ten feet away from him. “The good of the many…”

Oh Christ.
Sam unclenched his fingers and the phone fell. Before fate snatched him from Jenna forever, was there time for a kiss goodbye?

A powerful hand seized him. A police-issue, steel-titanium handcuff snapped round his wrist. One arm shackled to Sam, the WS guy punched Thomas in the face, knocking him back into the wall. Without taking his gaze off Thomas, the man retreated, pulling Sam with him and blocking the others behind them.

Blood spurted from the medic’s nose. “Assholes.” Thomas barked a laugh and tapped at his wrist phone. “I was gonna save you, Dexter.”

The hanger door began opening. A row of chutes—six—dropped from the ceiling along the wall behind Thomas, and the sunlight glittered off the blade popping out of the medic’s wrist phone. The bastard cut and slashed at the chutes, grabbed up three and lunged away from WS-man and Sam racing toward him. They clutched air as Thomas ran out of the chopper.

The wind battering his face, Sam peered from the doorway to see a pair of unopened chute-packs falling past Thomas, who was tumbling and working his arms into the third.

The WS guy jerked him back from the edge. Guess the stoic dick preferred they’d roast, instead of merging with the ground. Sam twisted to stare at the three chutes left. “Kurt and Lander—move,” he yelled. “Jenna, grab a damn chute. Ten seconds!”

WS-man didn’t say a word. He pulled Sam to Harding, bent and grabbed Harding’s arm and dragged them both backward for the hangar door.

Three chutes—friend, wife, young woman—it’s all good.
Sam didn’t struggle.

“No,” screamed Kurt, while Jenna stared at Sam from those beautiful and stricken brown eyes.

“Sorry, Jenna. I love you.” He stepped backward, fell into brisk nothingness, and swallowed his scream against the sharp jabs of pain as his body bounced about. It felt as if his arm would yank from the socket.
Ah well. Maybe I’ll have a fuckin’ heart attack before losing my arm and going splat.

Chapter Thirteen

Helpless. I failed.
Her heart feeling as dead and frozen as her limbs, Jenna watched Sam disappear into space. His black boots flipped up, his body following after the WS bastard who’d dragged Lav to his death as well. She couldn’t move or even sob as the obvious solution to the fact the bluebirds, illusion of happy-ever-after, wished to stir once again within her numb brain.

Screw until death do us part. He’s
my
husband. Mine.

Lander gathered up the wrist phone Sam had dropped while Kurt pawed at the chutes. Horror filled Kurt’s face. “Goddamn him. Two of these are slashed. ”He held up the only good chute and made to toss it to Jenna.

“No,” she snapped at Kurt and turned a beseeching gaze on the woman. “My life just died. You go. Hurry.”

Lander didn’t bother to speak. She shot forward to yank the only functional chute from Kurt, staggered back a couple of steps to thrust her arms in it, and threw herself at the angry man to push at him until both their bodies tumbled out the doorway into space.

And I stand alone.

As I came into the world, thus I shall leave.
A foot from the edge, Jenna stared out into the pale blue sky. Time had to be up. She should brace for explosion. She snorted to herself. If her life was about to flash in front of her, why not relive the best bang she’d ever had? Embrace the memory and die with a smile. Her lips curled upward as imaginary arms took hold.

My arms round his neck, his back to the wall, cock pounding in and out, hard and slick, making me feel so alive. He drills harder and faster, winding me tighter and tighter, then the hardest and fastest thrust puts him so deep taut balls slap my butt and I rocket with him.

The mere memory makes me wet enough to douse a heat-seeking missile, right?

God. I’m gonna die.

How she wished she could really feel Sam holding her.

Strong arms grasped her from behind and she yelped. “Sam? You’re a ghost?”
Wishes do come true!
She went off her feet, swept into powerful arms, and brisk wind kissed her face as the man leaped out into the sky. She flung her head against an unfamiliar male chest, and a massive sound—painful roar—blasted into her ears. Heat and jolts of fire surrounded her, singeing her legs and arms. Chunks of burning debris, flames reached for the billowing dress as they went down in a terrifying rush of freefall.

“Hold tight.” The bark of a stranger’s voice penetrated the harsh ringing in her ears. A large hand cupped her head, unable to ease the disappointment crushing through her. The guy holding her was not the right one.
Sam’s dead. Like I wanted to be.
She blinked hard, taking in the brown fabric pressing against her face.