Badass: Deadly Target (Complete): Military Romantic Suspense (21 page)

Nuzzling my face in his stubble again, I nod. “It has a nice ring to it.”

He pushes me back under the falling water, rinsing the conditioner from my hair. Then we’re on our feet, and he’s toweling me off. And I’m on the bed, his weight pressing down on me.

“This is home,” he says as he enters me. “Wherever you are is home.”

I wrap my arms and legs around him, pulling him tight, connecting as much skin as humanly possible.

Yes. Home.

Chapter 11 – Jax

We’re standing in front of the bank at exactly nine a.m., waiting for the doors to open. Noticing a crumb on Mia’s lip, I brush it away, a remnant of the breakfast scramble we’d just eaten. Mia had followed hers with a churro donut and a second cup of café con leche with so much sugar it almost gave me diabetes by looking at it.

Just like in Tijuana, accessing the safe deposit box here was just as easy, even more so. Within minutes, we are in the vault. A few minutes after that, we are in a room, the box’s secrets being spilled.

Using my iPad, I snap pictures of each page and run it through the translator before sending the images to Tate on the secure server. I was right. There isn’t exactly an X, but a detailed layout of the testing village is laid out before us, in both diagram and satellite view. A blueprint of the lab. Housing for staff. And, holy shit, one hundred small huts where the testing victims lived. All secluded behind a razor wire topped electric fence.

Tapping the device with her finger, Mia asks, “Is that a graveyard?”

Expanding the screen, I see that she’s right. Dozens and dozens of small crosses litter the ground of what is most likely an acre of land.

“The testing victims,” Mia murmurs, her hand over her mouth.

I nod, then swipe the image to get a better look at the lab, and more importantly, the security around it. They’re fully loaded. Lookout towers with manned machine guns are strategically lined along the fence. The satellite view shows four foot patrols around the lab.

Mia points again. “Oh my God, Jax. There’re children in there.”

There are. From babies to the elderly, hundreds of people are standing or sitting outside the huts.

“There’re studying the effects of the drug on all ages.”

“Horrible.”

Skipping past the blueprints, I find the “recipe” for the synthetic version, a chemist’s dream in print. I don’t bother reading the steps, that part doesn’t matter right now.

“What do we do next?” Mia asks.

I’ve been dreading the question because she isn’t going to like the answer.

“I’m putting you on a plane back to the States, then I’ll wait for Tate and company—”

“No.”

I bulldoze on. “To arrive. Since we don’t have anything here proving—”

Her hands slap on the table. “No!”

I ignore her. “The existence of an imminent plot against the summit or any world leader, I can’t call—”

“I said no.”

“The CIA or feds for backup. I’ll go in—”

“Dammit, Jax. I am not getting on a plane and simply waiting this out.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Mia, I can’t focus on getting in that lab if I’m worrying about you.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s Maya. And you need my help. Haven’t I already proven that I can—”

“Yes, you’ve proven yourself over and over.” I pull up the compound again. “Do you see this? These are machine guns,
Maya
. See those foot patrol guards? They’re carrying AK rifles. No offense to you or your mother, but you haven’t been trained to fight against that type of fire power.”

She opens her mouth, then snaps it closed before opening it again. “I’m not leaving, and if you try to take me to an airport, I’ll scream my bloody head off, do you hear me?”

I can’t help but smile. “Do you know you sound British when you’re angry?”

She harrumphs and makes other disgusted sounds.

My smile fades. “Mia, I’m serious. I cannot go into that compound with half my brain worried about you. It will get us both killed, do you understand?”

Her face crumples and she covers it with her hands.

“And I can’t wait on this. If what we’re looking at here has anything to do with that summit, we have only hours to shut it down. Tate’s in the air, bringing in support. Highly skilled and highly armed support. That’s what he does. He blows in and out of countries under the radar, does what needs to be done, and gets out.”

“Why can’t the CIA help? Why does it have to be you?”

“Because this is my job, protecting our country and the citizens in it. Don’t blame the CIA for not backing me up. Their back is to the wall because we are in the middle of a well-planned attack.”

“Because of the distraction,” she offers.

“Yes. And not just now. For months, we’ve been dealing with attacks across the globe, and they’ve always been pinpointed back to ISIS. Now I’m wondering how many of them were set up to look that way, to keep our focus off what is going on down here.”

“But ISIS took credit for everything, so—”

“Yes, they do that. If a cow pisses in the road, they claim credit.”

“Why?”

“Why is any fight started, Mia? Because someone thinks they are right. ISIS thinks they are right, that they have the answers and are so convinced they are right they will kill anyone whose mindset doesn’t align with theirs.”

She looks wistful. “Kind of like why couples fight, but on a larger scale.”

“Correct. Toilet paper roll goes over or under? Divorce has been caused by that endless debate.”

She smirks at me. “Over.”

I give her my fist. She bumps it, does her little nerdy explody thing. “I agree.”

She wipes fake sweat from her brow. “I think I’m in toddler love now.”

God, she’s adorable.

My phone pings and it’s a message from Tate.
ETA 1 hour

I take her hands in mine. “I need you back in the States. Go to Dave, get your cat. Stay with him until I can come get you. Will you do that for me?”

Her beautiful gray eyes cloud, then shine, but she quickly blinks all of that away. “Yes, I’ll go. But you have to promise to come back safe so we can explore this thing between us like normal people.”

“I’ll come back,” I promise and mean it. Hope I can fulfill it.

She stands up and begins gathering our things, stuffing them in her big bag. Hand in hand, we walk out of the bank and to her side of the rental car we picked up last night. Before opening the door, I kiss her, and she kisses me back. It’s the sweetest, most precious last kiss of my life.

Kissing Laura for the last time had been gut wrenching because, in that kiss, there was no hope for another.

But now…

Pain explodes in my neck, then my ears are ringing with Mia’s screams.

The world fades, and I pull the dart away from my throat before I’m swallowed by complete darkness.

Chapter 12 – Mia

One minute I’m kissing Jax and the next I’m tossed in a van, my ankles and wrists tied, with a gag stuffed in my mouth.

It was that fast.

And that terrifying.

And Jax is so very, very still.

I try to move closer to him, see if he’s breathing, but am tossed against the side of the van when we take a sharp corner. Jax rolls into the uncushioned metal, but he still doesn’t move. Not even his eyelids flutter.

“You have caused me great problems, suka. You and your mama. Very great problems indeed.”

It’s him.

The man from the bank. He’s turned around in the passenger seat, his cold dark eyes leveled on me. Black, Jax called him. I think he’s still wearing the same suit from two days before. The suit in which he killed my mother. Did he wear it just for me? A two for one?

“Who are you?” I try to say through my gag, but the words are just one long muffled blah.

But he understands. And knowing that scares me even more. He’s used to speaking to people who are gagged, just as a dentist can understand a patient while his fingers are in her mouth.

“Yes, let us be formally introduced. I’m Taras Popov, lead security agent of the village you’ll soon be visiting. There, we’ll be having a little, how do you say … oh yes, chat.”

He’s even scarier looking when he smiles.

Fortunately, I don’t have to see his face for long because he turns back around, ignoring me completely. I scoot forward, desperate to get to Jax. He’s so still. He’s not moving at all.

Please don’t be dead.

When I’m close enough to him, I place my head on his chest. It lifts a little with a shallow inhale. Oh, thank you God. His heartbeat is strong in my ear. He’s not breathing deeply, but he’s breathing. His heart is strong.

What do I do?

Keeping an eye on the men in front, I turn around until my back is to Jax and I can use my bound hands to check his pockets. Empty. No phone. No wallet. No keys. Not even any change to jangle around. I move down his legs. Maybe they didn’t find his gun or his knife.

Click.

I freeze and slowly turn my head. Popov is pointing Jax’s gun at my face.

“We are not stupid, suka. You got away once. Your luck will not hold out for a second time.”

If I’d been able to talk, I would have reminded him that we’d gotten away twice and to screw himself with Jax’s gun. Looking into the dark barrel though, then the equally dark eyes, I suppose it’s better I don’t have the ability to speak.

I don’t know how much time has passed, but my arms and legs are numb and my jaw is in agony when the van finally slows. I can see the fence, a gate opening in front of us. Soon, we’re inside, driving past a line of huts, but all the doors are shut and I can’t see any people. We don’t stop until we pull next to a large white building. Knowing that we’ve reached our destination is more horrifying than being abducted and the ride combined.

Behind me, the door to the van is pulled open and I scramble to the front. Popov pulls his gun. “I do not play games, suka. Out. Now.”

Swallowing hard, I scoot toward the door, but stop, crying out when they yank Jax out by his feet. He hits the ground with a hard thud and a little moan. Popov smiles at me. “That will help wake him up.” Then I’m tossed over someone’s shoulder and carried into the building.

Everything inside me screams. My ribs wake, remembering the fractures, while my legs and arms fill with needles of returning blood. My headache and fear make me cold.

What do I do?

Trying to break the icy grip of fear in my brain, I kick my legs, realizing I need to struggle. I’m rewarded with a sharp slap on the back of my legs and another to my head from whoever is walking behind me.

Please someone, tell me what to do.

There’s a clock on the wall and it tick, tick, ticks. The sound driving me insane as a minute passes, then ten, then sixty. Then I’m no longer sure.

My mind and body are in agony. Fear crushing all thought.

I’m tied to a metal chair that’s bolted to the floor. My wrists are bleeding, my ankles too. Each time I move, the thin razorblade sharp metal wire I’m tied with cuts into me even more.

The room is stark white with gleaming glass front cabinets along one wall. There are hooks on the ceiling, a few of them on the wall. What looks like an incline bench and a huge stainless steel tub filled with water.

Across from me is Jax, tied to an identical metal chair, his chin still drooping onto his chest. He’s moaned a few times, moved his head, his fingers. His head raises a bit, then drops down. It raises again.

“Jax.”

The word comes out as a moan. My tongue is too thick, too dry, too scraped from trying to push the cloth out that’s still gagging me. I try again. It’s a little better.

This time, he manages to get his head all the way up, but it lolls back on his shoulders as if it’s simply too heavy to lift.

“Jax!”

The sound gets his attention and with what looks like great effort, he looks at me, blinks hard and looks again. I watch him come back. Back to awareness, back from the dark place he’s been.

“Mia,” the word is a croak. “Where are we?”

I’m helpless to communicate, and try to do so with my eyes, but I realize he already knows. He yanks on his hands and blood immediately appears on his wrists. I try to tell him to stop, that it’s no use, but he’s shaking the chair, working the restraints as if the red dripping onto the floor around him isn’t coming from him.

To my right, a door opens and Popov walks in. Jax stops moving and stares at the man with the deathliest glare I’ve ever seen.

“Let her go,” he commands and the Russian laughs. He walks behind me and trails a finger down my cheek.

“She is very beautiful. Too beautiful to let go, don’t you think?” I shiver when the finger moves down my neck, pulling my sweater off my shoulder as he walks around me. “Da. Ochen’ beautiful.” My face ignites as he slaps me hard, the sound cracking through the room. “You look very much like your mama.” He lifts my chin and I try not to cry, my heart hammering in my throat. “She was a whore, you know. She traded sex for secrets for many years. Do you follow her same path?”

He turns to Jax, who is looking directly at me. He gives me a slight shake of his head.

“Does she lay down for you? Does her sweet cunt give you pleasure, Mr. CIA Man?” Popov walks behind me again and I don’t take my eyes off of Jax. Not even when the monster pushes my sweater off my other shoulder. Not even when he bends and lays his lips on my ear, runs his tongue down my neck.