Kiss Me Harder: Unbreakable Series Page 9

  “I only know about it in passing, because that’s not my department anymore. Not my clearance, but…people talk. A few years ago, they lost at least four members of their team on a mission, if my memory serves me correctly.”

  Shit. That’s half their team, half of what had to be like family.

  “Now, where is the senator and why is she in their crosshairs?”

  I look at the ceiling, wondering where to start, but she beats me to it.

  “Dear lord, they have her, don’t they?” She shoots up from her seat, pacing and murmuring. “This is bad; this is really bad. What do they think she did?”

  “Well, you said they’re not mercenary…they’re not heartless. They rescue people.” The Naja I know is certainly protective, and though a little scary, I know she’s good people. I rub a hand over the back of my neck, hesitant. “They won’t…kill her? That’s not what they do.”

  “It depends on what they think she did. You threw out some pretty heavy allegations, in line with people they’ve taken down.” She sits behind her desk, pulling out a phone that’s not her everyday one. “You have to tell me what her crime is to them, Elias, if you know.”

  I hesitate, torn between my gut feeling that the woman I’m so intrigued by won’t do anything too unforgivable, and the respect I have for my family friend and boss.

  “If I tell you the pieces I’ve put together, promise me that you’ll trust my judgment and not alert anyone immediately. A few more days, that’s all I’m asking.”

  With a skeptical look in my direction, she grumbles and puts the phone away.

  “Elias…”

  “I know. It’s a lot. But you’ve helped make me into the agent I am today, and I need you to trust that right now.”

  “If this goes to shit, we’re both going up in flames, along with anyone involved. You’re aware of that?”

  Folding my arms, I give her a grim smile. “Hard not to be.”

  “What’d she do?” she asks again, nervousness on her face, which says a lot.

  “I haven’t heard this from them, but…I think they believe she’s behind that mission gone bad you just told me about. I think she had their team targeted, and that’s why she’s in this situation.”

  “You’ve got until the end of the week, Elias, and then I have to do my job. You may think you know them, but you haven’t seen them in their element. You don’t know what they’ve done, and this? This isn’t a rescue mission, so all bets are off. This…this would be vengeance, and I can’t condone that. You get the senator back unharmed and we’ll deal with her from there if there’s any truth to this. But if they…” She shakes her head like she doesn’t even want to say the words. “If they kill a U.S. senator, without bringing her crimes to us, on their own…they’ll be treated like we’ve never associated with them and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”

  “I know. Trust me, I don’t want it to get that far and I’m hoping it doesn’t.” I stand, knowing more than ever that I have to figure something out, and I’m going to need all the help I can get.

  “Get it handled, Elias, or it’ll be completely out of my hands.”

  Motioning to Hayes as I get back to my office, I grab my shit and get anything I need to not be in the office for a few days.

  It’s time to track her the way I did the first time around, and this time, it might not be nearly as pretty.

  17

  Naja

  “That’s what you’re sticking with?” Part of me is hoping it isn’t, because my resolve is wavering and doubt is creeping in.

  “I didn’t hire them, and I’m not this terrible person that you think I am.” Her bottom lip quivers and I glance away, taking a deep breath. At first, I thought she was just a very good, and very practiced, liar.

  Now…now I don’t know. Now, I’m growing weary of not getting the answers we were expecting, and I’m not even positive she has them.

  “Please don’t,” she whispers, pleading in her eyes as I pick up the IV line, ready to inject more of Bali’s concoction into her system. It makes it so that it seems time is passing slower than it is, confusing the subject and making the situation seem worse than reality. Instead of physical torture, it’s almost worst, allowing mind games and exhaustion to take root.

  “Someone’s setting me up. I will help you find out what happened to your friends, but I…please.” Her voice shakes and my finger tenses on the end of the syringe, confused by the earnest look in her tired eyes.

  Her resolve shouldn’t still be this strong.

  Maybe she’s innocent.

  The thought flitters through my mind and I close my eyes, freezing before I step back with a curse, tossing the syringe to the floor in my frustration.

  Have we been toying with her, or has she been toying with us?

  Growling, I slam the small door behind me and stalk up the stairs to where the rest of the team is in the kitchen area. They take one look at my face and stand at attention, ready for whatever will come out of my mouth.

  I feel my eyes prick with my frustration, and I take a deep breath, going to the bar area and grabbing the Bruichladdich X4, a brutally strong single malt whiskey from Scotland.

  Throwing back the burning shot, and probably losing some of the skin inside my mouth in the process, I take a deep breath and face the people I’d die for and who would do the same for me.

  “I think she’s telling the truth.”

  With collective reactions of disappointment and cursing, Bali motions for the bottle of rocket fuel and I push it towards her, trying to put the pieces together.

  “Knew something was up,” Kane murmurs, rubbing a tired hand down his face. “You didn’t have your usual relish.”

  “I felt worse every time,” I admit, shaking my head. “I actually felt…sympathy for her. Threw me for a fucking loop.”

  “She’s got a spine on her. People have admitted guilt to get out of less.”

  “That’s what makes me second-guess everything we’ve found. It’s been so damn convincing, everything pointing right to her once we peeled back the layers. And now we might be back where we started.” I drop my elbows to the island counter and my head into my hands. “We’ve got nothing.”

  “Hey.” Trevor puts a comforting hand on my shoulder, pulling me up and against his side so he can wrap an arm around me. “We’ve got each other, and we’ll start from scratch and get to the bottom of this shit. Just a little bump in the road.”

  I lean my head against his large shoulder, grateful for even a little bit of extra strength. Here I was, so sure this would be the end, that we could finally lay their memories to rest and move on with our lives.

  Move on to our families.

  “I’m out of gas, Trev,” I whisper, and he hugs me tighter against him, pressing a kiss to the side of my head.

  “Luckily I’ve got extra fuel to share,” he says low, and his optimistic nature makes my lips tip up just a bit.

  “So…” Bali trails off, face thoughtful.” Who’s charming enough to convince the senator to work with us, even though we’ve subjected her to some not so nice feelings?”

  We all swing our gaze to Trevor and he rolls his eyes.

  “Why am I the only one who learned real people skills?”

  “We have them. You just use yours more,” Kane answers. “Go down there, be all nice and shit. We’ll start figuring out where to go from here.”

  Trev squeezes my shoulder before he goes, and I watch his dark head disappear down the stairs before I turn back to the rest of my team.

  “She might not be as involved as we thought, but she knows shit. Otherwise she wouldn’t have thought we were dead.”

  “Agreed. She knows more than she should. The question is, how? There are no coincidences, and whoever is making her the scapegoat is damned good.” Bali tucks her hair behind her ear, eyes as tired as I’m sure mine look. “But I say we change course and head to Trouble’s. It’s not far; we could use his resources and we need
somewhere to lay low off-grid.”

  “Li’s right. It’s only about an hour from where we are now. Could be useful.” Kane rubs his ever-growing beard, which makes him really look like some Viking prince. “I’ll clear it with him so he doesn’t have his people tank us or some shit. He’s a little unstable.”

  “He’s just protective of what’s his.” I laugh, my spirits bolstered a little at seeing an old friend. I also know it’ll be good to have all the help we can get. We were too close to the situation; maybe there were things we missed.

  Maybe we’ve been sloppy. Too emotional. It’s not something I’ve ever been accused of, but I can admit when I’ve fucked up.

  Maybe I should’ve taken Elias’s direction after all. There might be something to his justice instead of revenge rhetoric, but I won’t be telling him that.

  There’s only so much help I’m willing to give his ego, and who knows if he’ll even be speaking to me after what I did. For all I know, he’s got a team trying to find us and bring us in right now.

  I move over to the window, watching the water crash softly outside. There’s a very light storm that’s throwing beautiful shades of darkened gray and blue across the endless sky out here.

  Taking the laminated picture out of my pocket that I carry with me whenever I can, I stroke my fingers over it and close my eyes, imagining that I can feel arms around me.

  I can’t stop fighting for the truth. I owe it to them to keep my faith, to keep my drive, no matter how hopeless it feels right now.

  We’ve helped put other peoples’ families back together, and now it’s time to honor ours.

  “Just tell me there’s good coffee.” The voice comes from behind me. It’s a slightly bedraggled Senator Lightwell, standing hesitantly at the top of the stairs with Trevor behind her.

  “From a few regions.” I slip the picture into my BDUs and move to the cabinet, showing her the many k-cup assortments we’ve got.

  We all like our coffee, and there was no telling how long this would take.

  Trevor, always the gentleman, pulls out a small stool and helps her into it, giving her a glass of water while I make the coffee she points out.

  Eventually, everyone’s back in the kitchen and we sit around the table, minds heavy.

  “You can shower when you’re finished. And there are clothes that you’ll probably fit into,” Kane offers, his face blank. He still doesn’t trust her, but he trusts my judgment, and I’m grateful.

  “Thank you.” She sips delicately from her mug, her hands clenched around it. “Such hospitable kidnappers.”

  “You know who we are; no need to act otherwise.” Bali raises a cocky eyebrow.

  “I was under the impression that the Killian Group was no longer operational,” Lightwell admits.

  “Someone had it out for us. It was best to take time to figure out who that was.” I pause. “I’m sorry that we were led to believe that person was you. We don’t…we don’t make it a habit of getting this wrong.”

  “Apology accepted. They have to be pretty good, and out for me too, so…maybe I can be of more help?” She glances at Trevor, and he nods slightly. A light blush stains her cheeks as she looks away, and I narrow my eyes, bemused.

  Raising my gaze to Trevor’s, I hope he recognizes the warning on my face. Something between them is the last thing we need.

  “We’re docking at a friend’s place and we’ll go from there. In the meantime, I’ll get you a secured line so you can cite a family emergency.”

  “Thank you.” She hesitates, glancing at all of us. “And I’m very sorry about your friends.”

  Overwhelmed by a wave of sadness, I don’t trust myself to speak, so Bali does.

  “So are we,” she answers quietly, tangling her hands with mine and squeezing gently. “So are we.”

  18

  Elias

  I have to say, being led somewhere with a dark hood over my head after being ambushed is a new experience for me.

  And it’s not a welcome one.

  They took our weapons, and my hands are zip-tied in front of me, prisoner style. I guess we shouldn’t have expected anything else coming to an island that’s outside U.S. waters, and not on any of the paperwork that I could find.

  I still don’t know how the hell they knew we were there. We were careful. Two of the guys with me are SEALs and this isn’t their first stealth rodeo. Whoever holds the reins here must have some experience under their belt, which makes me even more worried for how we’ll find the senator.

  When Naja’s tracking chip came back into range for a moment, I knew it was my only chance to jump on the lead. I still don’t know if she knows it’s on her gun, but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. It’s not something I’ve relied on because she switches between two of them, and I only had access to one. There was no guarantee that she’d have it when I needed her to, and it doesn’t always send a perfect signal.

  I hope it sent the right one this time, or this is all for nothing.

  The men shoving me along fire off something in a language I don’t speak, which makes me even more wary. Swedish, maybe? Afrikaans? It has a roughness to it, but the hood is stopping me from hearing them clearly. I trip over something, but I don’t make a sound, trying to listen to whatever I can and keep counting the steps. We’ve gone in a circle, probably them trying to throw us off. Hayes was with me, but he’s further back. I can feel my face throbbing from where one of the assholes knocked me good, but I definitely broke his nose.

  More rapid-fire conversation, some stairs, then I blink at the harsh light when the hood is snatched off my head. I don’t know what I expected to see. Some drug lord sitting on his makeshift throne or something typical for someone that’d have us marched up here captive-style, guns at our backs.

  Instead, a dark-haired guy with an inch or two of height on me and a scar running across his cheek is standing in front of me with…swords? There’s no mistaking that he’s in charge here.

  I blink, wondering if I’m a little sleep-deprived. His men have weapons that would riddle my body with damage in seconds at the press of a trigger, and he’s holding not one, but two swords.

  “Is that a sword?” Hayes hisses behind me and I have the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the question, even though it’s the exact one milling around my head.

  All of my guys have their hoods off, but our hands are still bound in front of us. Glancing to the side, I can see the wheels turning in Derek and Xander’s heads and I know they can both be a bit hot-headed. They might get us all killed in the next few seconds if something doesn’t give.

  “Glad your stupidity hasn’t affected your eyesight,” the large man booms with an accent that I don’t immediately place, hefting the swords into the air and raising a cocky eyebrow. “Now, who’s feeling lucky?”

  I grit my teeth, my own impatience rising. “Where is Naja Quentin?”

  He moves his sharp gaze to me. Instead of speaking, he nods to the goon behind me, and for a split-second, I think my time has come to an end.

  Instead of ending me, the man lets his gun rest on his side and flips up a pocket knife, slashing through my bonds. I roll my wrists, on edge.

  “Win, and you get to live to tell me why you’re on my island and maybe die. Lose, and you and your friends become fertilizer for my new garden. I’ve just ordered more King Protea’s from my homeland that I’m quite excited about.” The more he speaks, the more I realize that he’s South African. Who the hell is this guy?

  He holds out the hilt of a sword to me and I take it reluctantly, because what the hell else am I supposed to do? I’ve never fought with a fucking hunk of metal before. That wasn’t a part of my goddamned FBI training, I’m sorry to say. I heft it in my hands, testing the weight. It’s lighter than I expected, but I st—

  Clank!

  I block his sudden blow by throwing the sword up like a shield, and the metal clashes.

  “Atta boy. Now that you’ve got your feet under yo
u, we can have fun.” His laugh is way too excited and the pleasure on his face is disconcerting. The man is clearly unstable, and I don’t know how much luck is going to be on my side here. We circle each other, and I resolve to think of the sword as an extension of myself, and use everything I already know about combat. As I counter his movements and thrust and try to keep all my body parts unscathed, adrenaline is roaring through me, along with healthy doses of disbelief and fury.

  When I get my hands on that woman, her ass is mine—and not in the way I wanted it to be.

  19

  Naja

  “I didn’t even know Cotton Candy grapes were a real thing until Trouble turned me on to them.” I pop another of the decadent little treats into my mouth, picking more off the stem.

  “I’ve only had them once before, but they’re so addictive.” Tori—that’s what we’ve taken to calling her now, because Senator Lightwell is just too close to the mistake we almost made—picks some off her stem, chewing thoughtfully. “I think I may have to stock these in my mini-fridge now that I’ve been reintroduced to them.”

  It’s the third day that we’ve been mooching off our friend’s hospitality, and we’ve spent the last two going over everything we thought we knew and shifting pieces around. It’s 6 a.m. and I finally got what might be labeled as sleep last night, but only because Bali slipped something into my drink. I’m too grateful to not feel like the walking dead to be pissed off.

  The man we thought the senator sold us out for? Actual coincidence. Apparently, she didn’t have any idea what his other dealings were, and she maintains that she never gave the go-ahead or hired anyone to get rid of us. The only reason she even knew of us was because of a report she’d been read in on at the time that overlapped, and she’d thought we were all dead. We’ve questioned her about Shadi, about Nathan Lewis, his associates, the children that have gone missing. In a very rare moment, it seems that Victoria Lightwell has truly been in the wrong places at the wrong times. Which is, of course, exactly what it’s supposed to look like because someone is going through a lot of effort to make it seem like she’s behind it all.