Total Surrender (14 page)

“Has he?” She shook her head.

“Yes. Like I said, sexual manipulation is one of his strongest skills.”

She turned toward the door, her chest aching. “I have to get back to work.” What was the truth? Could everybody be using her? She paused at the doorway as if just curious. “Why didn’t you retake Jory last night instead of recording us together?”

Silence. Then another sigh behind her. “Because I want his brothers as well, and if he’s out, he’ll lead me right to them.”

No response was necessary for that statement, so she didn’t give one. She exited the room, her brain spinning. The short walk didn’t help, and soon she stared at her keyboard,
not sure where to begin, especially since Chance was gone. Where the hell had he gone? She had more questions for him.

Well, she was a hacker. Maybe she could get into the military files and find the information she needed. Was she brave—or stupid—enough to hack into the U.S. military servers to see if there really was a program? It was the only way to see if her father worked alone or not.

High heels clopped down the hallway, and Dr. Madison entered the room. “The commander asked me to bring you this.” She set a computer disk on the desk.

Piper glanced at the innocuous silver disk, her blood boiling for a good fight. “What is it?”

“Knowledge.” Dr. Madison’s blue eyes narrowed behind glasses, and she shoved black hair out of her face. As usual, she wore a lab coat, her tablet sticking out of a pocket. She had to be in her fifties, but the woman looked younger. Ageless, really. “I’m sure it’ll help you in deciding whom to trust.” Latent sarcasm tipped the words.

What a complete bitch. Piper leaned back in her chair. “You don’t like me, do you, Dr. Madison?”

“I don’t find a real use for you.” Dr. Madison leaned against the door frame. “Franklin and his sentimentality have truly shocked me, to be honest.”

Right. Because he was such an emotional guy. But… maybe the snotty doctor could help in that regard. If Piper didn’t get some real answers, she was going to go crazy. “You’ve known my father a long time. Right?” Yeah. She purposefully called him that.

The doctor’s perfectly symmetrical nostrils flared. “Yes, and we’ve been close that entire time.”

Anybody with half a brain could tell they’d been lovers. Probably long-term lovers. “He doesn’t seem that emotional.”

“He’s brilliant.” Dr. Madison sniffed.

“I’d just like to be able to see beyond the mask, you know?” Piper mused.

Dr. Madison licked her pink lips, her gaze narrowing. “You silly girl. What you see is what is there. The man doesn’t have a mask.”

Irritation clawed down Piper’s back. “Nobody is that hard and emotionless.”

The doctor glanced at her phone. “Keep telling yourself that.” She turned on a four-inch heel and clicked away.

What a freaking witch. Piper eyed the silent disk. Somehow, she just knew this wasn’t going to be good. But she slipped the disk into her optical drive and slowly opened it.

A word document, a bunch of pictures, and a video lined up. She leaned forward. Interesting. A couple of keystrokes, and the word document opened. Jory’s picture sat in the left top corner. His black hair was shaped in a buzz cut, and his eyes lacked the warmth she’d seen in them. He looked younger—maybe the photo had been taken six years or so ago. Mission parameters were set forth next to the picture. The soldier was to make contact with Mara Jorge, a Las Vegas showgirl with ties to a local mobster. Seriously? This wasn’t even the Chechnya file.

Her skin heating, Piper opened the pictures into a slide show to see different shots of Jory with a stacked blonde. A blonde with gorgeous blue eyes, perfect bone structure, and a dancer’s body. Slim and sinewed. As he squired her everywhere from a park to a museum to a show, Jory wore Armani. Even with the short hair, he looked amazing—strong and virile in the expensive suit.

He and the woman seemed close, and his hand often rested at the small of her back or on her arm. His smile seemed to be for her only.

A surprising pang pierced Piper’s heart. Was she that easy to fool?

When the slide show ended, she took a deep breath. All right. In for a penny…

The video opened up to show a plush hotel suite with a sparkling view of the Vegas strip. The woman wore a long red gown, and Jory wore a black suit, an amber-colored drink in his hand.

“You’re beautiful, Mara,” he murmured, his gaze hot. “Lose the dress.”

The woman laughed, her voice low and throaty. Slowly, as if drawing out the moment, she slid the dress to the floor, leaving her nude. Perfectly in shape, nicely muscled, dancer nude. “If he had any idea you’re here, he’d kill us both.”

Jory set his drink down and tugged free his tie. “I’ll protect you.”

Mara chuckled. “You sound so sure, for a stockbroker.”

Jory grinned, not revealing anything in his handsome face. “You’re special and worth killing for. Don’t ever forget it.” His clothes joined hers on the floor.

If Piper hadn’t known better, if she hadn’t seen the documents about the mission, she would’ve believed he was entranced. Willing and falling in love. Something in her solar plexus ached. Even so, she couldn’t help but marvel at his amazing physique. Hard, muscled, so damn tough—lacking the three new scars or new tattoo across his chest.

She should turn off the video.

Yet she watched the couple fall to the bearskin rug. Watched as Jory took the woman, soft and gentle. Treating her as something precious.

Three fucking times.

Finally, the blonde fell asleep in front of the fire.

Jory stood and stretched, no expression on his brutal face. But something burned in those eyes. Lava and regret? He covered the woman with a sofa blanket and tugged his pants back on. Glancing around, he stalked to a laptop sitting near
the window and punched in keys, seeming unconcerned for the woman sleeping on the rug.

After several more moments, he shut down the computer. Must’ve stolen whatever information he needed.

The video was a little grainy, but soon Jory looked up at the camera, and now, years later, Piper drew back. She shook her head. This was from the past.

Jory nodded.

The screen went black.

Blood rushing through veins in her head roared sound through Piper’s ears. Her taste in men truly, truly, truly sucked. Not only was her father a world-class liar, but Jory was a master manipulator.

She clenched her teeth, and her stomach burned. How screwed up was she? A part of her, deep down, searched for a way to make Jory the hero. Proof that the DVD had been doctored. But it hadn’t. She could tell. Her father and Jory were two of a kind, and they both lied and manipulated people. Even worse, Jory had probably learned his skills at the commander’s knee. She didn’t mean a thing to either of them.

She was alone again.

P
IPER FINISHED OUT
her workday in a trance, cursing her own stupidity. How in the hell could she have been so wrong? Even now, she tried to find a rational explanation
for what she’d seen. Besides Jory’s ability to go the distance three times. With a mental shake, she shoved the image of his hard ass out of her mind.

The guy was a professional liar, and she’d been had. Worse yet, she’d been used. Kind of. Could a guy use you if he didn’t orgasm? Of course, that certainly had gained her trust.

Apparently he’d learned more from the commander than she had.

As she exited the building to the parking lot, her phone rang. She glanced down and sighed at seeing Brian’s smiling face cover the screen. Why wouldn’t he give up?

At this point, she’d believe any explanation. Maybe Brian, Jory, and the commander were in it together like some weird spy movie. But Brian needed to get lost and maybe get some anger management therapy or something. Either way, he wasn’t her problem.

At the moment, she was heading home to check on her mother, eat dinner, and then come back to work. The time clicked quicker and quicker, and she only had a short time to figure out the damaged kill chip.

She reached her car, and the earth shattered.

Warmth rushed over her. She ducked and cried out. A rush of heat slammed into her, nearly burning her skin. Fear poured through her veins.

Turning almost in slow motion, she caught fire billowing from the building. Her keys dropped. Several car alarms began to blare. Her knees shaking, she took a step toward the door, only to have another explosion knock her onto her butt. Pain ricocheted up her spine, and the concrete chilled her skin. She scrambled up, her breath panting.

A man shouted from the other end of the lot. “There she is.”

She turned, the air wheezing from her panicked lungs. Three men, all running—two with guns. Shit. Pointed toward her.

All instinct, she turned and ran through cars, trying to reach the main street. The quiet street in an industrial part of town. Warehouses and storage units lined the road, and in the chilly air, nobody lounged about. Running bootsteps came closer.

How many people had been hurt in the blast?

With a sob, she shrugged out of her long coat to allow more freedom. Her boots weren’t the best for running, but at least the heel was short. Her brain shrieked a message to run, so she did. Ducking her head against the wind, she pumped her hands and feet as hard as her cold breath would allow. If she could just reach the corner, she could turn onto a much busier thoroughfare.

Fear propelled her, and adrenaline increased her speed.

From the corner of her eye, she caught movement on the other side of the street.

Solid arms grabbed her at the waist, and she flew forward in a tackle. Her knees hit first, followed by her hands. Instant pain. Even so, she couldn’t stop her face from smacking the frosty concrete and turned to the side so only one cheek took the impact. Pain exploded through her head, and she moaned, shocked into stilling.

“I’ve got her.” Thick fingers banded around her upper arms and yanked her to stand. The world spun around, and she tried to settle her stance. Bile rose in her throat. She gulped it down, blinking to focus as the hands whipped her around.

The guy who’d tackled her wore a tight T-shirt over tattoos. Many tattoos. A scar crossed over his many-times broken nose, and calculation filtered through his brown eyes. “You run again, and I’ll knock you out.” A slight accent colored his words, but she couldn’t quite place it. He shoved his gun into his waistband. The hand on her arm tightened until she could almost feel bruises forming, so she nodded.

The other guy jogged across the street. “Nice tackle.” This one had nearly white hair, green eyes, and pocked skin. A tat along his forearm matched the one on crooked nose’s neck. PROTECT.

Now that wasn’t creepy in the slightest.

A small Toyota lurched to a stop, and Crooked Nose opened the back door. She couldn’t get in there. Pivoting on one aching heel, she kicked him square in the gut. Her foot landed, and she turned to flee.

Fingers clawed her hair and yanked her back. Raw agony ripped along her scalp, popping down her back. The other guy moved fast. She yelled, her arms swinging, until he cracked his knuckles across her already pounding cheek. Stars flashed behind her eyes, and she coughed out a sob.

Using her hair for leverage, he threw her into the car. Her forehead smacked into the far door, and pain filled her cheek. She scrambled to sit. He sat next to her, manacling a hand around her arm while Crooked Nose jumped into the front seat next to a stocky man with a black goatee. The PROTECT tattoo wound down the side of his neck and disappeared into his shirt.

“Go,” the guy next to her ordered.

The driver torpedoed the car away from the curb and toward the main road.

Piper struggled, trying to reach for the door handle. They were crazy if they thought she wouldn’t fight. Wherever they wanted to take her wasn’t good, so she needed to get out. Now.

A huge SUV barreled out of the nearest alley, headed straight for the passenger side of their vehicle. She gasped in shock at Jory at the wheel, leaning forward, his gaze intent. He held a phone to one ear, obviously bellowing out orders to somebody.

“Shit,” her driver screamed, yanking the car up onto
the sidewalk. Sparks flew as they scraped against a chain-link fence. Swearing, he turned the wheel onto a wide alley between two metal industrial buildings. Jory drove up next to them, slamming into garbage cans and sending them spiraling away.

Piper slapped her hands on the back of the seat, trying not to pummel into it. “Who the hell are you people?” she yelled.

The guy next to her slid down his window and pushed the barrel of his gun out. “We’re God’s right hand, bitch. Soldiers directed to take down your father and finish his unholy quest.” He fired, and bullet holes sprayed the front of Jory’s silver SUV.

How in the hell had they found her connection to the commander? It couldn’t have been in the files that were just hacked, could it? Had to be.

Taking a deep breath, Piper shoved the guy into his door, and his face smacked the window frame with a satisfying thunk. He bellowed and threw an elbow back into her shoulder.

Hurt swelled. She cried out and fell back, already swinging her legs up to kick.

He growled and half turned to swat at her, his weapon still out the window.

Jory creased into the right front side of the vehicle with a terrifying thud, shoving it across the road and onto the opposite curb. Piper screamed and rocked into her door. Glass shattered, and she ducked her head to avoid getting cut. The passenger-side door was ripped away, and the guy next to her disappeared. She blinked and scrambled over glass shards for the gaping doorway, seeing Jory twist the guy’s neck with a loud pop. The guy dropped, his eyes blank.

The driver gripped her hair and yanked her over the front seat. Pain assaulted her scalp. She fought, kicking and
screaming, yet landed hard on the console between the two seats just as Jory tore Crooked Nose from the front seat. Grunting and the impact of flesh hitting flesh echoed followed by pained gasps.

The guy holding her shoved her out the passenger-side door while keeping a tight hold on her hair. Once outside, he yanked her up to his chest, a knife instantly pricking her jugular.

She sucked in a breath and stilled. Fear compressed her lungs.

Sirens trilled in the distance, and smoke billowed up over the surrounding buildings, which blocked her view of the bombed facility.

Her ears rang. The guy behind her panted, his chest hitting her back with each exhale. The grip across her waist bruised, and the knife at her throat hurt.

In front of her, Jory kicked Crooked Nose’s gun into the air, where it flew yards away. Nose attacked with a series of punches and kicks—well choreographed. His training evident, he danced easily on his shoes, nailing Jory in the jaw with a solid punch.

Jory changed in front of her eyes. Not anything obvious, but the person she’d met left him, leaving cold gray behind. His jaw hardened, while his shoulders relaxed, his hands dangling by his sides. It was as if humanity had disappeared, leaving a stone-hard killer in its place.

Her breath disappeared, and her eyes widened. The guy holding her trembled.

Crooked Nose punched out, and Jory caught his fist in one hand. No expression marred his fallen-angel face. He twisted.

The loud crack of a bone breaking rent the musty alley. The man shrieked, pain in every syllable.

“Mother of God,” the man holding her muttered.

Jory followed up by a smooth glide into the man to turn
him, a thigh kick knocking the guy to one knee. He went for the neck next.

“No,” Piper whispered, jagged ice ripping down her throat. Horror should be hot, not cold. Yet she shivered.

Jory pulled up and swiveled his torso, and Crooked Nose’s eyes widened right before his neck snapped. He pitched forward, facedown in the asphalt, his head bouncing and his legs kicking up before landing hard and silent. Death clouded the air.

The knife dug into Piper’s throat, bringing her back to reality. She could probably reach down and grab the guy’s nut sack, but what if he shoved the blade in her throat? She’d bleed out too fast to get help. Even as her mind tried to save her life, she couldn’t help but cringe when Jory took three steps toward them.

“Let her go,” Jory said, his voice guttural and barely human.

Was it even him in there? She swallowed and tried to focus. Maybe he was some kind of crazy robot. Would he kill her, too?

The guy holding her tried to back away, taking her with him. “Stop there, or I’ll slice her neck.” The knife dug in deeper, and warmth spread down her neck.

Jory’s nostrils flared like a wolf’s catching a scent. Then he leaped. One hand slid past her throat for the guy’s neck, and the other wrapped around the hand holding the knife.

CRACK.

The guy shrieked and dropped the knife. Jory had broken his hand. How was that even possible?

He pushed her to the side, shoved into the man, lifted him up, and flipped him over his shoulder, somehow holding his head in place. Something loud snapped, and the body went limp. Jory dropped him like a sack of garbage.

He’d just killed three men with his bare hands—easily. Piper backed up, her hands out to ward him off. “Uh.”

He stalked toward her, his chin down. So big, so deadly.

She glanced frantically at the ends of the alley. The sirens increased in pitch, no doubt getting closer. But would they see her in the back of the alley? What if they didn’t arrive in time? Her knees bunched to flee.

“Don’t run.” His force remained the same.

She trembled and focused solely on him. “Okay.” No way could she outrun him. Was there any way to reason with him? Was he even in there any longer? “Thank you for saving me,” she breathed, searching for any sense of humanity or kindness.

He nodded and reached her to spin her around to face the mangled Toyota. Her hands slapped the chilled and crumbled metal. “This is going to hurt,” he said in a full Southern accent as he yanked her shirt down over her elbows. Fabric tore, and cold air whipped across her bare skin.

He unsnapped her brassier clasp.

She cried out softly, too softly. But fear seized her lungs, and breathing became near impossible. “Please, Jory—”

The silver glint of a knife blade caught her eye and trapped the rest of her words in her throat. Her knees wobbled, and she almost went down. Then fire raged through her. She might not be able to beat him, but she sure as hell was going to fight until the last second. She kicked back, nailing him in the shin, and then tried to spin around.

He set the wicked knife down. His hands covered hers on the car, and his big body caged her in place. Warmth heated her bare skin from his body, frightening her anew at how close he was. “Please let me go,” she whispered, tears blurring her vision.

He leaned over her, enfolding her completely. So much bigger and stronger than anybody she’d ever met. His lips hovered close to her ear. “I’m sorry I scared you. There’s a tracker inserted beneath your left shoulder blade, and I have to remove it before we move. Hold still, and I’ll be quick.”

She bit back a sob. The man was crazier than crazy. “Please, don’t.”

His big hands pushed hers together, and he flattened them under one of his. His groin pressed hard against her lower back, his legs against her ass, holding her in place. He retrieved the knife. “Hold still, Piper,” he murmured.

Nothing could’ve prevented the whimper that rolled up from her gut.

He stiffened. “I’m sorry.” Then the knife cut into her flesh.

Pain flared. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, but tears rolled down her face. He prodded with the knife, and nerves fired along every nerve ending in her back. She whimpered again. “There’s nothing in me, Jory. Please stop.” She’d beg if it meant survival.

He grunted. Something let loose in her shoulder blade. He stepped back and gently turned her around.

She sniffed and wiped her eyes. In his hand sat a tiny cylinder, silver and covered with blood. “What the hell?”

“Tracker.” He dropped it to the ground and smashed the device under his heel.

She blinked and shook her head. How was it possible? But she’d seen the device. Hell—she’d felt him pull it from her body. Realization tried to dawn, and bile rose in her throat. “I don’t understand.” Her teeth chattered, and she began to shake uncontrollably. She’d cut that shoulder on a chair, and Dr. Madison had stitched her up.

Fucking two-faced bitch. Did her father know? Piper pressed a hand to her roiling stomach. Yeah. He had to have known.

They’d tagged her like a dog. Tears filled her eyes again.

Jory frowned and drew her shirt back up, handing her the ripped ends to cover her breasts. “Get in the SUV, Piper.”

A Jeep careened around the far end of the alley, speeding straight for them. Shock kept Piper in place. The car screeched to a stop, and two hulking men jumped out. Gray-eyed men.