French Kiss (Decadence Nights Book 2) (27 page)

“They’re shooting at the tires.” He laughed as he drove, taking the curve out of the lot at a high rate of speed, enough to make the back wheels fishtail. “Must be your French lover boy not willing to risk his beloved taking lead. Dumb fuck. He used to be a good agent. Nothing stood between him and his mission—especially not pussy.”

“Who are you?” she demanded to know, hanging on as he turned another corner sharply, grunting in pain as her body went slamming into the center console.

His arm came out and pushed her back in her seat, not out of concern for her safety, but to get her off the gearshift that her hip had knocked into neutral.

“Raymond Ashworth, SIS at your service. You know us better as MI6.”

She stared at him in utter disbelief. “You’re an agent, like Arturo? Are you insane?”

“Not like Arturo,” he spat in disgust. “Durand has gone soft. Talking about retirement when he’s got years left ahead of him. That’s bullshit. When you sign up, you sign up for life. There’s only one bloody way to get out.”

“Oh my god! It’s been you all along. You killed those agents.”

“You’re quick, love. Not Artie’s usual type. Oh, you’ve got the tits and ass that he likes, but a brain is not usually required.”

“What are you going to do now? You can’t possibly go on working for your government after this. You’re done now too.”

His hand came out and took hold of her throat, pinning her against the side window, uncaring that he was careening wildly through traffic or that he had cut off her air. Choking for breath, she clawed at his arm, but that didn’t seem to faze him, only propelling him to squeeze harder. Mari saw colored spots dance in front of her eyes.

“That stupid cunt Adriana is to blame for this. And her pussy husband. Where is the data file?”

“Can’t… breathe…” she managed to choke out, and he relinquished his hold the tiniest bit. With air allowed to pass through her throat into her lungs again, she coughed and gasped for precious oxygen.

“Tell me where, dammit, or I’ll crush your pretty throat.”

His fingers tightened again, but she managed a ragged reply. “My house.”

“Liar. We searched there.”

“Not well enough.” Of course, she was bluffing. Arturo had the jump drive, but she wasn’t about to tell him that, certain that it would be the end of her usefulness, and likewise, the end of her. But she needed to buy time for whoever was chasing them—hopefully Arturo and the Rossi team—to formulate a plan and carry out a rescue. She clung blindly to the hope that would happen during the twenty minutes it took for them to drive to her home from downtown, because once they arrived, she had nothing.

“You better not be bullshitting me.”

Slamming on the brakes, he did a one-eighty amidst shrieking tires and blasting horns in the middle of busy Westheimer Road. He laughed maniacally as the three black SUVs in pursuit braked, making sharp U-turns while he shot past them in the opposite direction.

Mari knew she had pegged him correctly when she’d called him insane, for he was reckless and had obviously snapped. Perhaps it was the danger and stress of his job that brought on the weird light in his eyes saying plainly he wasn’t operating on all cylinders. And, if he was killing agents he thought betrayed the badge, or their oath to the queen, or whatever British secret agents swore to, which by his own deeds made him an agent no longer, it made him not only dangerous, but scarier than hell because he had nothing to lose.

* * *

“
Merde
!” Swearing vehemently, Arturo braced himself as he watched in horror as Ashworth made another dangerous turn. As they sped past, he caught a glimpse of Mari’s pale frightened face.

While hanging half out of the passenger window, he’d missed his shot to take out his associate back in the parking lot, missing by a hair when Ashworth had ducked at the last second. Other weapons had discharged behind him, trying to disable and stop the car from leaving the lot.

“Be careful for Christ’s sake,” he’d yelled over the thunderous noise. “Marilee is in there.”

As Ashworth’s vehicle sped away, Cap lowered his weapon and swung back behind the wheel. “Aiming at the tires, bud. Let’s go.” The last was unnecessary, Arturo having already pulled his shoulders back in through the window.

Before he had settled, Cap gunned the engine and the Expedition was in pursuit, as were Jonas and Lil T, in the SUV behind them, Dex and Sean, who rounded the building on the other side, trailing in another.

Now, as Cap maneuvered around the stopped cars in the middle of the busy street, the drivers stunned by Ashworth’s erratic driving, Arturo watched as Mari, trapped inside with a traitorous murderer, pulled further away.

“Hurry, we’re going to lose him.”

Cap accelerated, swerved around two minivans, drove onto the sidewalk, bypassing a stopped motorcycle, and was in the clear, punching the engine as he pursued them past the shopping center they’d just left and onto the freeway ramp Ray had just taken. “What the fuck is he doing?” Cap growled. “He’s blown after last night.”

It was more like this morning. That was the first opportunity Arturo had to listen to the audio from the evening before. Adriana had nixed his plan to do that immediately when she’d come flying out of the house and raced out of the driveway, driving like a woman possessed toward downtown.

Her reckless urgency, and a gut feeling from both he and Cap had them tailing her all night. Including going back to her house, dragging her husband out of bed—so said his mussed hair and mismatched clothes—and onto several other stops before ending up at the meeting at the downtown warehouse. They both made calls for backup—Cap to Rossi and Arturo to the feds—when they watched six Middle Eastern-looking men arrive shortly after her, heavily armed. When Ray hadn’t shown up as they’d expected, Arturo’s probing of Adri for his identity was to make sure that he hadn’t been mistaken. No one had a clue they’d be dealing with two completely unrelated crimes.

As they followed closely behind Ray who was still driving erratically, zipping in and around traffic at a high rate of speed, and scaring the shit out of him for Mari’s sake, he looked around and immediately got his bearings. Their route—northbound 610—would take them to Oak Forest.

“He’s going to her house,” Arturo predicted.

Cap immediately got on the horn to Brock. “Any sign of the other two from last night?”

“Negative. There’s been no action at all since last night.”

“Get inside,” he ordered, “and call the feds. Tell them our ETA is eight minutes.”

“Have you got a plan?” Arturo asked.

“Not yet.”

“I do. Keep her fucking alive at all costs.”

“That, my friend, goes without saying.”

* * *

The mad Brit agent gone rogue came to a squealing halt half on the grass and half on her flower bed at her front door, decimating her beautifully manicured zinnias and butter daisies, the asshole. He was out the door the next second, pulling her by the hair behind him. Eyes flooding with tears as her scalp burned like fire, she couldn’t see, but heard the vehicles skidding to a stop behind them—Arturo and the Rossi cavalry, she prayed to God.

The muzzle of his gun pressed against her temple as he backed them to her front door, using her to shield his body. As he did, he released the torturous hold on her hair and slipped an arm, as unyielding as a steel band around her waist. She blinked to clear her vision in time to see six doors fly open almost simultaneously and as many armed men train their guns on her captor.

“Let her go, Ray,” Arturo called insistently, his voice cold and angry. “You’ve got no way out of this.”

“You’re wrong. She’s going to give me what I’m after and then I’m leaving with her on a plane that you arrange for me.”

“That’s not happening.”

“Then she’s dead.”

“That’s not happening either.” He stepped around the end of his door, raising his hands, palms out, gun loose in his hand. “Take me instead and let her go.”

“Arturo, no!” Mari called, her voice rough with fear for him.

“Soft,” Ray scoffed, as he turned the gun from her head and took point-blank aim at Arturo’s chest. “Fuckin’ soft,” he yelled louder. “Like the rest of them. You don’t deserve to be MI6.”

Mari saw his finger begin to flex on the trigger and reacted. Screaming, she threw herself backward, head-butting him in the jaw as she pushed up with both hands on his gun arm. Arturo charged, diving and taking her down to the ground, his body weight robbing her of breath. Above them dozens of rounds exploded, make thumping sounds as one after another found home in Ray Ashworth’s body. Beside them he fell with a loud thud.

Reflexively, she turned her head, but Arturo caught her chin in his hand, preventing her. “No,
minou
. Look at me.”

Her eyes lifted to him, and his image wavered, watery from tears that once again filled her eyes, but for a different reason. She sobbed as the fear and panic of the last twenty minutes overwhelmed her. He rolled them, lifting her above him as he took the hardness of the brick pavers against his own body. Curling upright, he gathered her into his lap the whole time keeping her face averted from the dead man lying beside them.

“Are you hurt?” he asked softly, his voice soothing, gentling her as though she were a scared kitten backed into a corner.

“I’m f-fine,” she managed through a hitching breath.

“I doubt that, but I’ll accept it for now.”

“Adri?”

“Under arrest.”

“Then it’s over?”

“Yes, and you’re safe.”

Relief swept through her and she broke down, curling into him as she clung to him like a lifeline.

“He’s covered, Arturo.” It sounded like Cap, but she couldn’t tell over her crying.

“Let’s get you away from here,” he murmured, as he lifted her and carried her inside. She buried her face in his neck, ignoring the male voices, the sirens, and slamming doors as more vehicles arrived. He didn’t slow down, climbing the stairs steadily and taking her straight through to her bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him with his heel.

He eased her onto the bed and lay down beside her, wrapping his arms and legs around her as he got as close as he could. Then he held her, whispering softly in both French and English as his hands moved in long sweeping strokes up and down her back.

Something occurred to her and she blurted it out. “I got a ticket in your Porsche.”

He didn’t move, only said, “It’s okay.”

“I was doing 100 mph, but the trooper, who wasn’t very nice at all, still knocked it down to 95, so no points on my record.”

Still he didn’t flinch.

“I think I burned up your clutch. I didn’t lie. I do know how to drive a stick, or I did, twenty-two years ago, but I think I got the hang of it by the time I got to the shop.”

“Mari...”

She didn’t stop, her words coming out in a rush. “And I went to the club solely to push your buttons. You were ignoring me, well, not really ignoring, but I felt like your sister—pecks on the cheek and my forehead—what was that? You were driving me mad. I wanted to tick you off so you’d take back control, spank me, fuck me, or at least somehow show that you still wanted me.” He made a choking noise but she didn’t stop. “And I was never going to dance with Seth Benson. I was doing that to make you jealous. And all those times I said we were over or through, or that I never wanted to see you again. I was mad, hurt, and it was all a bluff. And—”

“Mari!” As he called her name this time, he squeezed her and cut off her rant. His head came back and he angled his chin down to look into her upturned face. “What are you doing?”

“Coming clean. I want to be honest with you, Arturo, always.” She blinked at the tears that hadn’t stopped flowing. “And I want you to know that I’ve loved you since I saw you whipping a complete stranger in the club. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s true. I fought it; you saw me try to do it, but I couldn’t get you out of my head. I don’t want to keep anything from you because life is short and I could lose you—”

“You won’t lose me.”

“You can’t keep that promise. After Derek, I realize that. No one can. Still, I don’t want to live alone and afraid anymore, so frightened to love again that I shut down and hide my heart.” She shook her head. “I want to love again, Arturo, that’s what’s in my heart for you.”

“Ah,
chérie
, you don’t have to be afraid. I have you, I love you, and I don’t ever plan to let you taste fear or loneliness again.”

She blinked up at him, wanting to believe.

“You belong to me, and I take care of what is mine.”

She froze, peering up at him, wanting to be his, but not like she’d been with Derek. She didn’t want that kind of obsessive, controlling love again, where she lost herself.

“I’m not like him.” Reading her so easily. “I want to help you grow as my submissive, and very soon, my wife.”

“Arturo,” she breathed in surprise.

His lips stopped hers with a kiss. “Not now, but soon. And I want you to live your life with me, not for me. You’ll have your shop, friends, your kids, and all the things that make life worth living. I want you to be happy, which will, in turn, make me happy.”