Necessary Risk (Bodyguard) (36 page)

“Don’t touch the earpiece. You’ll give it away. Try and forget that it’s there.”

She nodded as she stepped into the lobby of the Omni Hotel and then realized that was stupid, because no one could see her. It felt strange to be out in public on her own, without Sean by her side.

Her heart clenched just at the thought of his name. He was barely speaking to her, barely looking at her, but still taking care of her. When she’d called Patrick and Antonio behind his back yesterday, she hadn’t been fully prepared for how hurt and angry he’d be. She’d thought she knew what she was getting into, but she’d been wrong.

He’d slept on the couch last night, avoiding her as much as possible in the one-bedroom condo. He’d made dinner for both of them and then taken his out onto the balcony to eat, leaving her alone in the kitchen. She’d cut into her baked salmon, tears streaming down her face, not tasting her food as she ate. She didn’t know where they stood, and she was terrified to bring it up. He’d probably tell her that they were through if she pressed him, so for now, she was willing to let it be.

He’d only spoken to her while going over today’s plan, again and again, to make sure she had it straight. She’d called Jack to tell him to arrange the meeting with his contact, and he’d set everything in motion. She was to come to the Omni Hotel, alone, at seven the following evening. Jack would meet her there, and he’d take her to meet with his contact in one of the hotel rooms.

As far as anyone—including Jack—was concerned, she was there alone. Except she wasn’t. With the earpiece she was connected to Antonio, stationed in the hotel’s parking garage in an unmarked van with Sean and Patrick.

Originally she’d wanted to loop Jack in on the plan, but Sean had vetoed that immediately. He’d fought tooth and nail against giving Jack any additional information, and she, along with Patrick and Antonio, had given in. It didn’t hurt to play things close to the vest.

She saw Jack across the lobby, and anxiety raced through her like flames licking across gasoline, leaving her skin hot and itchy, but she couldn’t chicken out now. She’d ruined the best thing that had ever happened to her to see this through, and if she backed out now, it would all have been for nothing.

Jack met her in the center of the lobby, and she wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans, wondering if Antonio could hear how furiously her heart was pounding.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show.” Jack studied her.

“I want answers. You say that this guy can give me some.” She shrugged, focusing on her breathing, on keeping her voice steady. Jack glanced around the lobby.

“And you’re alone?”

“Yes. I’m alone,” she lied, despite the fact that she felt alone.

“Good. This guy’s jumpy as hell.” He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before tipping his head toward the elevator. “Let’s go.”

As they crossed the lobby toward the elevators, Sierra felt as though all her senses had gone into hyperdrive. The lights were too bright, the sound of Jack’s shoes clicking against the marble floor too loud, the scent of the gardenias in a massive vase on a nearby table too strong. Her stomach roiled, and she took a deep breath as subtly as possible, calling on every single ounce of acting ability she possessed.

She almost jumped at Antonio’s voice, but caught herself in time, covering it up with a cough. “You’re doing good, Sierra. Don’t forget, you need us, you say
lucky
and we’re there in a heartbeat.”

The safe word had been Sean’s idea too. Her chest hitched again, and she wondered if there was any way to fix what she’d broken. Maybe the fact that he was still looking out for her was proof that he still cared.

Or maybe it was just proof of how good he was at his job. She wasn’t sure anymore.

She stepped into the elevator, and as Jack hit the button for number fifteen, she was keenly aware of how vulnerable she was. For the second time in the space of five minutes, she desperately missed Sean’s presence by her side, and a fresh wave of pain and sadness rocked into her.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ping, and Jack led her down a hallway. The back of her neck prickled, but she kept going, wanting to talk to the informant. It was all she had, and she clung to the idea that talking to him would put an end to the hell her life had become thanks to Sacrosanct.

Jack took out a key card, swiping his way into a room not far from the elevator. He ushered her inside, and her skin buzzed with awareness.

Why did Jack have a key card? Why hadn’t he just knocked?

The door closed behind him, and he turned, slowly.

There was no one else in the room. There was no informant. She licked her lips, her mouth dry.

“You know, fifteen’s my lucky number.” She barely managed to get the last word out before he grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head against the wall, pain exploding through her skull. As the room tilted momentarily around her, she felt him rip the earpiece out. Distantly she heard a crunch as he crushed her only connection to safety beneath his shoe.

And then he laughed, a cold, joyless sound she’d never heard from him before. Fear flooded her, and she shoved Jack away, as hard as she could. He stumbled back, but not nearly far enough.

He laughed again, a smirk on his face, his eyes cold. “You stupid bitch.”

Every joint in her body stiffened with panic. She felt as if she were watching from underwater as Jack stalked toward her. For one long, terrifying moment, she was paralyzed. Everything was happening in slow motion as he pinned her against the wall.

“I didn’t want it to come to this, but now that it has, I’m gonna enjoy it.” He slapped her across the face so hard that tears sprang to her eyes, her ears ringing.

It hurt, but the slap jolted her out of her shocked stupor, and everything shifted from slow motion to fast-forward. Adrenaline surged through her, momentarily chasing away the paralyzing fear. She kneed him in the groin, ducking away as he yelped in pain, scrambling for the door. Jack grabbed her arm and flung her away from the door as she screamed. The closet to her left was open, and she grabbed the iron mounted above the ironing board and spun to face him, swinging it as hard as she could. It connected with Jack’s cheek, and he lurched backward a few feet, stunned. She bolted for the door.

Her fingers closed around the handle as a pair of strong arms circled around her from behind, squeezing all the air out of her lungs. Wildly she swung her right hand back and caught him in the eye with her fingers.

“Fuck!” He stumbled back, gripping his face. She scrambled for the door again, but he grabbed her hair and slammed her head into the door. Her vision slid sideways, and dark spots danced in front of her eyes as she fell to the floor, her legs giving out. A metallic taste flooded her mouth, and she struggled to get to her feet. Pain exploded down her side as Jack’s foot connected with her ribs. He kicked her again, and she almost passed out from the pain. He moved to kick her a third time, and she managed to roll out of the way just in time, her ribs screaming in agony.

Desperately she shot a hand up and grabbed his balls, squeezing and twisting as hard as she could. He screamed and fell to the floor, clutching his groin. She staggered to her feet, and her vision blurred red around the edges, hot with pain. Seeing her on her feet, he grabbed her by the ankle and pulled her down again, maneuvering himself on top of her. His hands closed around her neck, and she clawed at his face, struggling to get free as pressure built in her temples and behind her eyes. He leaned forward slightly, and she sank her hands into his hair, ripping a handful out. He fell beside her, clutching his scalp and cursing.

Sierra stumbled to her feet, gasping for air, careening forward into the hotel room. She picked up the iron she’d dropped, and as Jack came at her again, she swung it a second time. With a sickening crunch, it connected with his jaw. He shook his head and kicked her in the stomach, sending her tumbling to the floor as she gasped for air, pain shooting through her body. He grabbed the iron from her, and she was too overcome by the pain screaming through her to fight anymore.

The last thing she saw was the iron swinging down toward her.

*  *  *

Sean sat in the van, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, his shoulders rigid.

Maybe he was being overprotective. Maybe he was letting his uncertainty over his future with Sierra color everything. Maybe he was assuming the worst-case scenario, being overly suspicious of what could potentially be a solid lead.

His phone buzzed from his pocket and he fished it out, swiping a thumb across the screen to answer it.

“Clay, what’s up?”

“You need to get her the fuck out of there. Jack
is
Sacrosanct. He’s part of it. It’s been him this whole time.” A buzzing filled Sean’s ears, and he missed the rest of what Clay said.

And then Sierra’s voice, shaky and high, came through the van’s speaker, and his heart plummeted into his stomach.

“You know, fifteen’s my lucky number.”

A muffled thud filled the speakers, followed by static. The earpiece was gone.

“Fuck!” Sean pushed out of his chair and grabbed his gun from its holster, checking the clip. “I’m going in.”

Antonio stood too, worry etched into his features. “You can’t just go in there guns blazing. I’ll call for backup and we’ll get her out of there.”

Sean snorted and shook his head. “You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m going to sit here and wait around while she’s in trouble. I’m doing this my way.”

“It’s not a good idea.”

Sean slid his Glock back into the holster and pushed open the van’s door, meeting Antonio’s eyes. “Try and stop me.”

“I’m coming with you.” Patrick hopped out of the van behind him, his Beretta in hand. They ran for the stairs, feet pounding on the concrete of the hotel’s parking garage, Sean’s heart beating so hard he thought it might explode. They tore up the stairs and burst into the lobby, earning a few curious stares, but no one moved to follow them. He put a hand on his father’s arm.

“We can’t attract attention. We don’t know who Jack has watching the lobby.”

Patrick nodded. “Elevators?”

“You think she meant the fifteenth floor?”

Patrick hit the call button for the elevators. “That’d be my guess.”

“We’ll take the elevator to fourteen, take the stairs the last flight up.”

The doors slid open, and Sean punched the button for floor fourteen. He paced in the small car, unable to keep his legs still as anxiety shot through him. He shoved a hand through his hair, trying to breathe. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to breathe until he got eyes on Sierra. Until he knew she was OK.

He’d never felt so fucking frantic in his life.

His father’s hand landed on his arm, and Sean stilled. “We’ll get her out. She’ll be OK.”

Sean nodded curtly, not trusting himself to speak. Wanting to believe his father, but unable to escape the nightmare playing over and over in his mind. Blood everywhere, Sierra’s body limp and lifeless, and the knowledge that he’d once again failed to protect someone he loved.

He couldn’t let it happen. It didn’t matter that she’d hurt him. He’d do whatever it took to save her.

The elevator doors opened on fourteen, and they stepped out, running for the stairwell at the end of the hall, slamming into the door and pushing it open. They ran up the flight of stairs, and when they reached the door with a large
15
emblazoned on it, they stopped. Cautiously Sean nudged his shoulder against the door, easing it open a few inches, his Glock in his hands. Two men in black suits stood in front of a door at the other end of the hall, closer to the elevator. Not only did Jack have Sierra in the hotel room, he had the room guarded as well.

“Here’s the plan,” said Patrick. “You go back down to fourteen and take the elevator up. They probably know what you look like, but not me. I’ll come out of the stairwell and make my way toward them like I’m a guest going to my room. When I hear the elevator doors open, I’ll take one, you take the other. We’ll have the element of surprise.”

*  *  *

Sierra’s head throbbed woozily as it bobbed against her chest, and she struggled to open her eyes. Pain threatened to split her skull in two, and a wave of nausea rolled through her. She tried to push her hair back from her face, but she couldn’t move her arms. The red-tinged fog began to lift, and she forced her eyes open.

Her head bobbed down again, and she discovered why she couldn’t move. She was tied to the desk chair, her arms pinned painfully behind her, her ankles fastened to the chair legs with coarse rope. Everything hurt. Her head, her face, her ribs. Hot, terrified tears stung her eyes as she struggled uselessly against the rope holding her in place. She’d been gagged with a piece of fabric, and she forced herself to breathe through her nose, trying not to choke on the cotton wad stuffed into her mouth.

Jack emerged from the bathroom, a cloth pressed to his face.

“You know,” he said, wiping at his face, welts visible on his cheek and jaw from where she’d nailed him with the iron, “my original plan was just to kill you quickly and get it over with, but after that little demonstration back there, I think I’ll take my time. I’ve always wanted to teach you a lesson.” He smirked, and her blood ran cold. He stuck his head out the door. “Have you got my kit?”