Spy Games: Lethal Limits (37 page)

Asshole closed the distance, and his knife traced her jaw, the blade sliding under her chin to tip it upward so he could stare down at her. The madness was full-blown now, promising her pain like she’d never felt before.

His lips twitched, and he dug the tip of his blade deeper into her chin. Tia fought to be still. “I’ll kill your girlfriend if you give me a hard time.”

“I know. I’ll behave.”

He worked Tia’s bindings and dragged her to her feet, her hands still tied behind her back by an independent set of ropes. The knife glinted in his hand. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, the blade cold at her throat, the blade sharp but painless for some reason. It should hurt more than this. A dribble of wetness trickled down her chest. Then he released her and shoved her forward. She stumbled, almost going to her knees.

“On the bed.”

Tia cased the room, looking for anything to stop him. It was only one room, a single bed, a dingy kitchen in the corner, a TV at the end of the bed. She and Kate had sat closer to the kitchen area, bound next to each other.

And out the single window behind the TV, was a rooftop adjacent to this building. One perfect for a sniper’s shot. The fire escape scaffolding could make the shot harder, but Tia had faith in Chase. Jake trusted him with his life. Tia now put that same trust in Chase’s hands.

Her captor grabbed the bedding from the mattress and tugged, ripping it down to the fitted sheet. He tossed them to the floor. “Your blood will be beautiful on my white sheets,” he whispered.

Kate sucked in a breath, and Tia prayed she’d keep her mouth shut. She couldn’t let him do this to her and her child.

“I hope you make me come as you kill me,” she offered madness, hoping it was enough to distract him from anything Kate might do.

“Yes. That would be nice.” He sounded like he was addressing the weather, that a sunset could be just as incredible. Madness, Mach ten.

Kate kept still, and Tia sank to the bed at the foot. He stepped up, his hand brushing her shoulder. Then he sat down on the bed next to her and shoved the point of his knife into her left side. The blade sliced in tip deep, and she closed her eyes on the flash of pain. It was nothing. She could handle it. If she waited for the perfect moment, she might be able to take him, even with her hands behind his back.

“You do like the pain,” he whispered almost reverently as he stared at her. “Most women would scream by now.”

“Aren’t you glad you chose me first?”

Kate made a strangled noise from her chair, but said nothing. Asshole didn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah.” He leaned in and kissed her then, biting her lip, forcing his tongue into her mouth. She tasted blood—hers—and it excited him because he shoved the knife into her side a little deeper, his hand trembling. He kissed her harder, and Tia retreated deeper into the emotional compartment, locking away any dignity she had. He could have her body, but not her heart. That was Jake’s.

Asshole broke the kiss. “How will I make you bleed first?”

She slid up the bed, away from him, and opened her legs in invitation. “Use me. Rape me.” If he was over her, one of them might get a shot off without harming her or Kate. If he raped her a few times, Kate would have more time. She didn’t see any other solutions. She had to wait for him to make a mistake, or she had to wait for Jake. Not very good odds. “Make me scream.”

“I don’t want you to attract attention, pretty girl. Maybe you shouldn’t scream at all.”

“Whatever you like. I can be whatever you want.”

“Maybe I should kill you.”

“Dead women aren’t much fun.” Tia looked up at him, meeting his sadistic gaze. “Why don’t you use that knife to cut off my shirt?” She’d rather have him cut off her shirt than stab her deeper. The wound was on the left. He’d just hit intestines or something boring. But it still would hurt like hell.

“Don’t,” Kate whispered.

Tia tried not to think of how it had felt when Jake had used his wedding knife to do the same thing. Asshole slid the bloody knife though her shirt, up the middle, the back of the blade grazing her sternum. When he broke through the seam at the collar he pushed the tip under her chin and lifted her face to look at him. “Very pretty. I like your blood on my knife.”

“I bet you do.” She swallowed, and over his shoulder, she saw movement through the window, across the way, something so faint she could brush it off as pigeons taking roost. She hoped to hell it was Chase.

He wouldn’t take the shot if she was in the way, so she leaned back on the bed. If they shot Asshole, she’d be clear as long as the angle was right. She prayed the angle was right. “Why don’t you strip for me?”

He looked confused again. “Crazy American.”

Damn sanity for popping up. Sanity would take the madman back to Kate. “Where am I going? If I roll, you’ll get me. I can’t make it to the door faster than you can with my hands behind my back. I can’t kick or hit you from here. So just strip for me. Blondie would hate that.”

“Don’t,” Kate said again.

“See? Strip for me,” she said on a breath, watching over his shoulder. She couldn’t see much. Chase would know better than to be visible. So would Jake.

Her captor ran a hand through his dark hair. Then he took one lick of the blood on his knife—her blood—and placed it between his teeth like a lover would a rose stem. He began to unbutton his shirt, his brown eyes boring into her, taking in her curves.

“That’s it,” Tia encouraged. “Strip. Then come give me the ultimate orgasm.”
If you’re there, take the shot.

He tossed his shirt and undid his belt, then unbuttoned his pants. He slid them down his hips, off his legs, and kicked his feet out, never taking his eyes off her. He was aroused already, and Tia looked away, knowing her time was almost up. At least this time, she’d be a whore for a noble reason. To save Kate.

He crawled on the bed, between her legs, knife still between his teeth. Over his shoulder, she saw a finger at the window, giving her a signal. Pointing to the left with a jab. They wanted her to roll. Her heart should be hammering, but she felt nothing but cool, calm as she looked back at Asshole and smiled. “You forgot to undress me.”

He took off one sneaker, then the other. Then grabbed her pants at the waist and yanked. She lifted her hips, and the second the material cleared her feet, she kicked him square in the chest. He grunted and fell back, and she rolled to the left, and prayed. Asshole roared with anger as he stood, and a nanosecond later, the bullet streaked through the window and into her attacker. He looked at her for a moment, his anger turning to confusion. Then he slumped to the bed.

Jake lifted the window and climbed in from the fire escape, wearing body armor over his street clothes, and a full body harness over all that. On his head was the hat she’d made him, and she gaped, shocked because he looked like an ass and all sorts of wonderful all at the same time. He assessed the room quickly, gun in hand, and then his gaze locked with hers from her spot on the floor.

“Tia?” He rushed to the bed, first checking vitals on Asshole. He holstered his gun and knelt, his gaze searching hers, then her body, his hands flying across her skin. “Did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine.” More than fine, because Jake had come to her first. Which was sad, because Kate really needed him right now. She wanted to cry, ask him to hold her, but she sucked it all back and said words she never thought she’d utter. “Kate needs you.”

“You’re bleeding.” He touched her stomach right above the wound the asshole had given her. Then he touched her chest, and her chin with a hand that trembled. “Jesus, what else did he do to you?”

“It’s small. Please, you need to help Kate. She’s losing the baby.”

Fear crossed his face, but he lingered a moment, his hand on her cheek. “If anything had happened to you—”

“Now is not the time to put me first, Jake.” She kicked his ankle. “Go to her.”

He rose, and she called, “Wait. Cover me, first. Please.”

Jake must have realized then she was naked and inhaled sharply. He grabbed the sheet Asshole had chucked to the floor and covered her gently. Then he went to Kate.

“Sweetheart, you with us?” He touched her cheek, then her throat for a pulse as phoned out. “I’m in. You know the shot was good. Send up medical.” And he hung up. Tia could hear Chase hollering questions into his phone as it disconnected. Jake looked at Tia.

“Make sure she’s okay. Don’t leave her until Chase comes.”

Jake went back to work. But moments later, Chase kicked the door in, pistol in hand, a herd of SWAT members behind him. He took a moment to assess the room, holstered his gun and crossed the room to Kate. Jake was working at her bindings. Chase tipped her chin with trembling fingers, then slid a hand to her throat to check her pulse. “He’s dead?”

“Yeah. Tia says Kate needs medical attention.” Jake finished untying her and laid her on the floor. “Vitals are okay, no visible wounds.”

Chase radioed down to medical support and then turned to look down at Tia. “You okay?”

“Yes, just get her to the hospital.” Tia hesitated. “It’s the baby.”

Chase paled as he turned back to Kate, and the medical team arrived with a stretcher and other equipment just as Chase moved his hand to the radio. He barked directions at the medical team, at the SWAT team, at anyone in the way, as if ordering people about would heal Kate faster.

Then Jake was kneeling next to Tia again, rolling her to untie her hands, so close she could smell the gun oil and salty tang of his sweat. He rubbed her wrists gently to get the blood flowing again, and Tia yanked them from him and hugged him, holding him close.

Jake sank down to the floor and pulled her onto his lap, sheet and all. “I was so scared for you,” he whispered in her ear. “I heard what you said to him. I don’t know if you’re brave, crazy, or what, but you saved yourself and Kate. Jesus, you were so goddamned brave.”

She’d never had anyone scared for her before, not like this, so scared he trembled around her. Or think she was brave. Maybe he did love her. “I couldn’t let him hurt Kate. She was the brave one.”

Jake held her closer, and one of the medics squatted down next to them and said, “I need to look at her.”

“Tell him I’m fine,” she whispered against Jake’s chest. She didn’t want another man touching her. Not right now.

Jake cupped her cheek, holding her closer to him. “She’s fine. She needs some stitches, but she’s fine.”

The medic hesitated. “It’s going to be a bit before we can transport her. The hallway is a mess with SWAT, and we need to get her friend down first.”

Jake set his jaw in his stubborn way, and for once Tia was thrilled to see him do so. “I’ll carry her down. You put her in the ambulance.”

“I’m not going without you,” she whispered. “I can walk.”

“Like hell.” He looked into her eyes, and she wanted to drown in the emotion there, wanted to believe his eyes were so dark with love. “I’ll drive you if I can’t go.”

“Okay.”

Jake stood and lifted her, wrapping the sheet so she was covered. He kissed her lips then, very gently, as if afraid of hurting her any further. “Chase. I’ll see you at the hospital.”

****

“How are you hitting every light green?” Tia asked from her side of the truck.

Jake looked at her and thanked God for the millionth time that morning since Chase had gotten the shot off. Looking in from that fire escape landing, seeing that asshole leer at her, slicing the shirt from her body, then climb onto the bed to take her had made him see red. He had wanted to charge in, and if it weren’t for Chase in his ear telling him to stand down, he would have rushed in and given that asshole a piece of his fist, then a bullet from his .45. Of course, Tia probably would have died. Jake ground his teeth. Thank God for Chase.

He’d carried her down the four flights of stairs still wrapped in a sheet, her arms wound around his neck like she was afraid he’d let go. Or maybe she was afraid he’d disappear, and she’d be alone with that fucker again. Jake had laced through the throng of squad cars and under the police tape, bypassing the second ambulance, giving only a gruff, “She’s fine,” to the EMT before taking her to his truck.

Her bag was still in the back of his truck, and she was able to slide on the skirt he loved. He patched up her wound with his emergency medical kit and she’d put on one of his darker shirts that wouldn’t stain if the blood soaked through. The shirt was roomy and comfortable for her, and the sight of her in his shirt made him even more protective. She was his, damn it.

She didn’t want to go to the hospital at all, but Jake wanted them to clean out the wound, give her some antibiotics, and maybe put a stitch or two in it. She just wanted him to take her home. He hoped home was with him.

Jake looked at her. “You’ve never gotten to do this before? Go green?”

She smiled a little, most likely because he’d said green in a dirty way, like when it was part of their sex play. “Not green like this.”

He shot her his smuggest smile. “Chase had the tech team change the lights for us. We also have a free pass for speeding, as long as I’m driving sanely.”

“I’m glad I’m so important.”

If she only knew how important she was to him. He’d tried to tell her. She didn’t believe him. “You saved his wife. He’d arrange a mountain moving if you wanted it.”

She brushed that aside with a wave of her hand. “So what happened on your side of this?”

Jake drew a long breath. The night had been a fucking nightmare. “Kate left Chase a note in one of his gun cases—she knew him well, that if she was taken, he’d go immediately for that gun. We tracked you with Kate’s GPS system, but we ran into problems. The program was finished, but the directions she’d started weren’t. So we had to wait for a tech support geek who understood what the hell she did. Then there’s only so much battery life, and her GPS battery was dying. And then a satellite went down, so Chase had to get a different one back up to triangulate your location.”

It had been stressful, but at that point, Chase had regained his footing and had been in full-blown boss mode. His buddy could make mountains move when he was in boss mode. Only the mountains he wanted to move were slower than molasses in January, and both of them had been frustrated as hell.