Shoot to Thrill (7 page)

Really
big
guns.

And every one was aimed at her.

Oh, shit.

The metallic
snick
of bolts sliding and bullets chambering filled the hall.

The last thing she remembered was screaming, as she crumbled to the floor.

FOUR

AS
soon as he heard Rainie’s scream, Kick lunged back into the bedroom, beelining it for a weapon.

How the
fuck
had they found him so quickly?

He fumbled the SIG off the nightstand and it went skittering, so he grabbed the Beretta from his jacket pocket, then rolled onto the floor toward his discarded clothes. Face it, the only thing worse than being caught unawares was being caught unawares with your pants down. By sliding in right next to the bed he was able to pull his discarded suit trousers on as the intruders stormed the room. Not that it mattered in the grand scheme of things. He was fucked either way. Five of them and no egress. Even he knew when to yield the moment and live to fight another day.

He tucked the Beretta under the mattress, raised his hands above the level of the bed, and carefully poked his head up. Instantly he was staring down the barrels of four M-4s. But he wasn’t looking at them. He was scanning the eyes behind the ski masks.

Well, well. If it wasn’t Mr. Pinstripes, sans the suit. This time the team all wore break-in black—with appropriate footwear. Someone must have given them a lecture.

“Hello, Al,” he said with disgust, wiping the gathering sweat from his brow.

He was manhandled to his feet.

Pulling off his ski mask, Al
tsked
. “You’ve been a naughty boy, Kyle.” He tossed a glance over his shoulder at Rainie, who was lying limp on the floor being fussed over by a fifth man. Al aimed a knowing smirk at Kick’s state of undress, then glanced at the scatter of condom wrappers on the floor. “A
very
naughty boy, by the look of things.”

“Bite me,” Kick said wearily, shaking the goons off and zipping up his pants. He had to make two passes at the zipper tab because his hands had started shaking. “And leave the woman alone.”

“Kyle, Kyle, Kyle. Did you really think you could avoid us using an old-school maneuver like this?” He
tsked
again.

Kick grabbed his shirt from the foot of the bed where it had ended up bunched into a ball. “Hell, it worked for Robert Redford.”

Al snarked. “
Three Days of the Condor
? Daaamn. We have been bored, haven’t we?”

Kick shook out the shirt. “Speak for yourself. I’ve been highly entertained leading you assholes on a chase for the past year. By the way, how’s the kid with the bullet in his leg?”

Al’s humor faded. “Walking again. No thanks to you.”

“Please. Spare me the violins. It was a flesh wound. But nice try. How’d you find me?” he asked neutrally. Professional curiosity. Be nice to know where he’d slipped up.

“We had a real interesting talk with a guy named Jimmy Tang. Showed up at the diner after you bolted. A veritable pharmacopeia. Told us all about your little secret. Shame on you, buddy.”

“Fuck you. Next time you’re blown up by a land mine you can throw shade my way.”

“Anyway, figured you’d want to get clean fast, under the circumstances. Thought you might head for the nearest clinic or hospital.” He wagged a finger. “The speed dating nurse thing, though.
That
was clever.”

Obviously not clever enough.

In the living room Rainie moaned, drawing his attention.

“What the hell did your apes do to her?” he demanded, attempting to break through the wall of muscle to get to her.

“Ain’t done nuthin’,” the guy kneeling over her said defensively. “She just folded. Been out like a light since.”

The goons held him back forcibly. Al raised his M-4 again. “Cuff him, boys. Make sure to do up the FlexiCuffs nice and tight.”

“Wait.” Kick jerked away, holding his hands up to show he wasn’t going to pull anything. “Let me check on Rainie first. Please.”

“No fucking way.”

Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused. He could see the split second when she remembered what had happened. They widened, and her throat let out an awful sound, like a wounded animal.

How many times had he heard that sound . . . when the person you had in your sights knew they were going to die?

With a heartrending “No!” she compressed into a fetal position and wove her fingers together behind her neck, shaking like a leaf. “No. No. No,” she whimpered over and over.

“What the hell,” the goon kneeling next to her muttered, looking to Al for guidance.

“Can’t you see she’s terrified?” Kick snapped. “Let me go to her.”

After a maddening pause, Al nodded. “He tries anything, shoot the woman.”

Jesus.
How had he ever have worked for these people? He’d gotten a whole new perspective on their methods since jumping over the fence.

He slid to his knees next to her, stifling a grimace of pain from his leg, and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. He pushed back the hair that hung like a curtain around her downcast face. “Rainie, sweetheart, it’s okay. They’re only after me. They won’t hurt you. I promise.”

She just curled tighter and shook her head.

He bent over and kissed her temple. “We’ll leave you alone now. Thanks for trying to help me. Thanks for . . . everything.”

Grunting from the flash of fire in his leg as he stood, he turned to limp for the door.

“Not so fast, Jackson,” Al ordered. “Pick her up.”

He froze.
What?
“Hell, no.”

“She’s coming with us.”

He couldn’t believe this. “Why?”

“Because she’s seen too much. Can’t have her calling the cops, now, can we? At least not until you disappear.”

Kick clenched his jaw in fury. He should have fucking known this would happen.

“You are the scum of the earth, you know that?” he growled. “She’s an innocent bystander. Let her go.”

Al punched a forefinger at him. “
You’re
the one who brought her into this mess, Jackson. Cooperate, and she’ll be fine. Now, pick her up. That way you can’t try any funny stuff.”

He ground his teeth. They were so
fucking
going to pay for this. Somehow, someday, he’d make them pay.

“Fine.” He took a deep breath and stooped down, trying to slip his arms around her. “Rainie, I’m so sorry about this.”

She finally turned her face toward him, her eyes filled with fear. “Please don’t take me,” she whispered.

He glanced at Al, who just made a sign to hurry up. The rest of the goons stood watching impassively, weapons at the ready. Jesus, what was
wrong
with these people?

“I’ve got no choice, baby.” He tried to gather her in his arms, but her defensive position along with the stiffness of his leg made it too awkward to lift her. “Rainie, can you stand up for me?”

She just stared up at him, her eyes wild. He could feel the pounding of her heart and the trembling of her limbs, see the flush of terror in her face.

“You’re going to have to help me, sweetheart. I can’t do this alone.” He was afraid if he didn’t move her soon they’d hurt him. Or worse, her. “Help me,” he said firmly. “I really need your help, Nurse Martin.”

That finally cracked through to her. She swallowed, and hesitantly, so hesitantly, unfolded her body and reached up to slide her arms round his neck. Together they managed to stumble to their feet.

“I said carry her,” Al commanded, striding to the door. “Masks off and conceal your weapons, people. Let’s roll.”

Kick inhaled deeply and flexed his leg in preparation, then went to do as he was told.

“No.”

At the softly spoken word, everyone in the room turned to Rainie. “What did you say?” Al barked at her.

“No,” she said, her voice a little stronger.

Al narrowed his eyes. “You are in no position to bargain, sister. Pick her up!”

“He can’t,” she argued, sounding more like the little trou blemaker he’d come to know. “His leg—”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about his damned—”

“
And
he’s starting to go through drug withdrawal. You may as well shoot me now as make him carry me down five flights of stairs. Look at him! He’ll never make it. And I won’t be much of a hostage if I’m dead from a broken neck.” By the end of the speech, she sounded almost like her old self.

“You’re not a hostage,” Al said, looking really irritated. But after an assessing glance at Kick’s sweaty face and shaking hands, apparently he saw her point. “All right, fine. Cuff her, too,” he growled at the man with the FlexiCuffs, then glared at her. “I’m warning you, one false move from either of you and you’ll both be sorry.”

If Kick hadn’t been so relieved, he might have cheered at her. But just then a wave of dizziness swept over him, making him stumble. Four guns were instantly pointed at them.

Rainie froze like a deer in headlights. He grabbed her for balance and kept pulling until her face was buried against his chest. “Put the goddamn weapons away. You
have
me, okay? I’ll go wherever you want. Just stop scaring the shit out of the lady.”

Al smiled triumphantly. “Okay, then. That’s better. Let’s go see the boss.”

THE
only thing keeping Rainie from dissolving into a puddle of blind panic was the fact that Kick really needed her. By the time they were down the stairs and out in front of her building it was obvious he was hurting badly.

“How you doing?” she asked as she helped him lean back against the rough brick to catch his breath.

He gritted his teeth and moved close to her ear. “Run,” he urged under his breath. “Now, while you have the chance.”

She shook her head. She might be terrified to the bone, but she wasn’t stupid. Those guys meant business. Besides, he needed her. “You’re about to collapse.”

“I’ll be okay. They’ll—”

But the rest of his sentence was lost as just then an unmarked black SUV screeched to a halt at the curb.

Oh, shit.
Her insides quailed. Please not—

“All right, you two, let’s move,” Al ordered, and they were hustled over to it.

“No!” The panic she’d barely been holding at bay swamped over her like a barrel of acid. “No, I can’t—Please don’t make me—”

But before she could blink they’d been shoved into the middle seat. Their captors swarmed in after them, the door banged, and the engine gunned.

Trapping her.

In a
car
.

She should have run when he’d told her to.
She slammed her eyes shut and doubled over, fighting to breathe. Ripples of light danced at the edges of her vision.

Deep breath, let it out slowly. Deep breath, let it out slowly. Deep breath—

“Rainie?”

“I’m okay,” she gasped, banding her arms around her middle, fighting the dizziness.
I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.

Deep breath.

I will be fine.

I will be calm.

I will be safe.

She would not panic. Panic would not help. She must stay calm.
It is just a car.
Cars couldn’t hurt you.

Let it out slowly.

But people did. And these people were very bad.
Oh, God! If she didn’t get hold of herself, they might—

No!

Her fingers tingled; her mind floated toward blackness.

She felt Kick’s arms slide over her head and around her, urging her closer to his body. She struggled against his hold. He felt hot and shaky, but determined to hang on to her.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he told her from far, far away. “Even breaths. That’s right.”

Calm and reassuring, his rumbling voice called her back from the edge of the abyss.

Suddenly she was freezing, her teeth chattering. Reluctantly, she gave in and let him hold her tight. Actually, there was nothing she could do to stop him, she was shivering so badly. The heat of his body did feel good. Unwelcomely good. Like it had earlier, when they’d made love. Or had sex. Or whatever the hell it was they’d done. Back when he’d made her feel so safe and secure. What a joke.

She cut off the thought and just breathed, concentrating on the sound of his voice as he murmured encouragements in her ear. The smell of his body filled her, already uncomfortably familiar. Almost against her will, a tiny bud of calmness slowly blossomed in the chaos of her anxiety. Because of him.

She’d never had help taming her fits of panic before. Not since a school counselor had tried showing her how to control the panic attacks that had grown out of the trauma of witnessing her parents’ violent deaths. The psychobabble exercises hadn’t actually helped the attacks, but she had learned how to hide them pretty effectively. And to build a life predicated on doing everything in her power to avoid setting them off.
That
had been effective.

And now, somehow, having Kick’s arms around her was also helping her cope.

Being in a moving car.

God, she hadn’t been in a vehicle of any kind since the funeral limo. And even then she’d refused to ride in it home to her aunt and uncle’s, where she was going to live until college. She’d walked all fourteen miles back from the cemetery, with the limo tagging along behind, blocking traffic.

“Feeling better?” he asked, jerking her out of the memory.

“A little.”

She eased out a final steadying breath. The whole attack had lasted maybe five minutes—about average—but as always afterward, she felt like she’d run a marathon. She looked up at his worried face. He was flushed and perspiring.

Damn.
He was about to crash and burn. She ran her sleeve over his brow. “Some nurse, huh? I’m supposed to be taking care of
you
.”

A tremor went through his hands. “Don’t worry. I’ll soon have the best care our tax dollars can buy.”

Her brain was apparently still muzzy. “Tax dollars?” What did taxes have to do with anything?

He sighed and laid his head back against the headrest. “Never mind.”