Chapter 17
If any of the team were hanging near the abandoned processing plant, they sure were doing one hell of a job at keeping a low profile.
Xander shrugged against the chilly night air, his chin buried in the collar of his brown leather jacket. No lights in the warehouse across the street. No bums lingering near the alley or pushers loitering under the streetlight at the end of the block. He tugged his skull cap lower down his brow. Even to his expert eye, it appeared he was heading in alone. “Two hundred feet.”
The mini microphone Tanner had stuck behind the top button of his plaid shirt was a gamble. A dumb gamble, in his opinion, and one he would’ve preferred not to take. But that small concession was the only way he’d been able to gain Byrne’s agreement he fly the operation solo.
If Ryan wanted Xander to come by himself, he was only too happy to fulfill that request. Right up until he gained access to the building, where he’d hopefully come face to face with the piece of shit, and the two of them spending some quality time together sounded perfect by him.
Tendons cracked as Xander tipped his head side to side. He pulled his mints from his jacket pocket and dotted a powdery disc on his tongue, fighting the impulse to break into an all-out sprint for the corner. Knowing Charlie was hidden somewhere inside these four walls… Every instinct he had said his best bet would be to hotwire the nearest broken-down semi and drive it straight into the greasy windows running the length of the sidewalk.
A bulky shadow stepped from a recessed alcove directly across the street and fell in time with his measured steps. And there was the problem with that plan.
Rubbing his hands together, Xander lifted them to his lips and exhaled a warm breath into his cupped palms. In complete opposition to the way Eden and the rest of his entourage were staying scarce, ever since he’d slid Malcolm’s Hypersport to the curb and stepped onto the street, Ryan’s goons had been shadowing him like a horde of brain-starved zombies.
Nostrils flared, Xander snapped the candy in half with the front edge of his teeth. But he knew the drill. Escorting him in was a power play on Ryan’s part. To ensure he understood right off the top which of them was calling the shots.
And the thing that really sucked?
It had worked.
If Xander had learned anything during his short conversation with Charlie, no way in hell was she fine. He jammed his hands in his pockets. The second her voice had come through the speaker, he could tell Ryan had hurt her, scared her shitless by allowing The Postman to use whatever tactics he wanted to get her to talk. And then to cover his ass, Ryan had forced her to lie and probably threatened her life in the process.
The only good news was this meant Xander’s ultimatum had accomplished exactly what he’d set out to do. Until Ryan got what he was after, he’d think twice before letting anyone lay another hand on Charlie. And Xander wasn’t about to screw that up by drawing any unnecessary attention or causing a scene.
Not when he was so close to finishing this off. And not when everything he loved stood to be ripped from his grasp in return.
Even as Charlie had said the three words he’d spent his entire life waiting to pass from her lips, all he could think about was getting to her. As fast as he could. And then choking the living shit out of anyone who’d come within six feet of her as he carried her back home.
To be with him.
Forever.
Where he was never again sleeping without her or, he swore to God, letting her out of his sight for the rest of his days.
Grit rasped under his steel-toed boots as he pivoted at the corner and approached the loading dock. To the right, a grungy steel door waited beside the solitary delivery bay, the lone bulb affixed to the brick exterior buzzing inside its cage like an angry mob of glow-in-the-dark bees.
“Heading in.” He strode to the entrance and banged his fist on the door.
A security camera hummed down and to the right from its original trajectory toward the stockyard, and he clamped down hard on the urge to rip the damn thing off the bracket as the lens zoomed in on his face.
The solid weight of a gun barrel prodded his lower back. A loud thunk came from the opposite side of the door, and Xander lifted his hands in surrender as the hinges swung open.
Three greasy thugs stood inside the cavernous room, spaced two, maybe two and a half feet apart, armed with everything from a section of heavy chain, to a Walther Uzi semi-automatic, to a hooked hunting knife that belonged in a serial killer’s start-up kit.
Nice. That made a total of four men he’d need to take down. But at least they’d done a decent job of supplying a variety of weapons for him to choose from. He squinted. It really was too bad he had no choice but to keep the noise to a minimum until after he’d breached the perimeter.
Zeroing-in on Charlie had to be his number one objective, followed immediately by safeguarding her out of the building. Moving as quickly and efficiently as possible would increase the likelihood of achieving that goal, and remove the risk of anyone sounding the alarm or Ryan getting it in his head to sneak her off to another location.
“Step inside and keep your hands where I can see ʼem.” The gun nudged his spine and, as Xander crossed the threshold, the three men closed ranks to keep him surrounded—one on either side of his shoulders and the asshole swinging the chain dead center out front.
The slam of the door reverberated off the metal rafters, and his feet were kicked apart. A rough shakedown to check for any concealed weapons, and the guy who’d cased him down the street rounded his side, plucking off his hat and tossing it to the floor. “Open your jacket and lift your shirt.”
Cocking a brow, Xander peeled open the zipper, hooked the front of his green t-shirt on his pinkie and ring fingers, and stretched the bottom edge up past his pecs.
Right. He’d come this far only to be dumb enough to tape a wire to his chest. The clowns.
“He’s clean.” The lead dude spoke into a two-way radio, his thumb depressing the trigger. “We’re bringing him in now.” He jerked his chin toward the guy boasting the Uzi on Xander’s right, and stooge number two reached behind his back and tossed a black hostage hood in Xander’s direction.
“Lights out, Prince Charming.” The supposed “boss” sneered, waving his Remington at Xander’s chest. “Put the hood over your head and hold out your wrists.”
Really bad move on their part. Xander bounced the wadded material in his hand. Not only had they reported he was on the way before that was anywhere close to being true, they’d followed that up by handing over something he could use as a weapon.
Huh. Apparently, these morons had a combined IQ somewhere around ten.
Stooge number three stepped forward and Xander shifted his eyes left. The guy transferred his hunting knife to the opposite palm and tugged a black plastic zip tie from the slash pocket of his leather jacket.
Um, no. Not happening. Sorry to disappoint and all that shit.
A quick, darting jab of Xander’s knuckles, and the lead guy stopped breathing. Eyes bulged, he stumbled back, one arm flailing and his other hand clawing at his throat
“What the—?” The hulk with the chain planted his feet, catching his boss as Xander twisted the hood around Zip Tie’s wrist and yanked.
Spinning on his heel, he slammed the guy against his back. A low poke of Xander’s elbow knocked the wind out of his lungs. Same elbow high and tight, and nose cartilage crunched. An ear-splitting yowl echoed off the three-story ceiling. A hard chop to his forearm, and Xander snatched the knife from Zip Tie’s useless grip.
Lunging forward, he flipped the handle, caught the blade in two fingers and released. The knife embedded in Uzi’s chest with a dull thwip and the guy stiffened, cheeks pale as he gurgled and staggered to the side.
A loud roar from behind his back, and Xander ducked right as the tip of the chain scored his cheek. He muttered a curse, arching away as asshole number four stepped over the unconscious boss sprawled at his feet, one end of the chain wrapped around his fist, the other whizzing over his head in a vicious circle.
Fugly as he was—Xander swiped at his cheek and his fingers came away red—he resembled a human tank, and given his head start, disarming him was gonna be a little tougher than the other three currently mopping the floor.
Two pumps of the dude’s arm and the speed of the chain increased. A twist of his lips as he closed in, and Xander tracked the timing of each swing. “You might want to take a look around. I don’t wanna kill you, but if I have to, I will.”
“Shove it up your ass.” The chain swerved toward Xander’s knees before the guy wound it back over his head. “Only one of us is leaving this room on two legs.”
Fair enough. Xander eased back another step to shore up the distance. Killing someone simply because he could had never been his style, but if the choice came down to Charlie or some paid-for-hire attack dog, she won the round every time.
One…two…a third swing, and Xander vaulted back, hip bent at ninety degrees to snag the chain with his leg. The last few inches whipped around the ankle of his leather boot as he landed on the opposite foot and jerked his heel back.
The tank careened forward but quickly recovered, driving his shoulder into Xander’s stomach. The air vacated his lungs. The ground skidded beneath his feet. He grappled with the dude’s shoulders and stars crackled through his vision as the back of his head connected with a concrete pillar.
Shit, for as thick as he was, the guy was fast.
Xander dodged right. Blocked the incoming swing of a fist. A second block with his forearm, and he jammed his boot heel against the tank’s anklebone, firing off three rapid jabs to his gut.
He oofed and hobbled back a step. A quick pivot off his good leg, and Xander’s jaw exploded in a shower of pain. He reeled sideways as a coppery film coated his tongue.
The corner of the column dug into his spine. A hard scrape wrenched his shoulder blade as he spun, utilizing the momentum.
He reached over his shoulder and seized the guy’s neck, stepped forward and drove his forehead into the sharp edge of the pillar.
Blood splattered the arms of his leather jacket. Balance unsteady, the tank staggered left, swaying and pitching. Several blurry blinks, and he collapsed to his knees.
Down, but not out. And with the damage he’d done, leaving him the opportunity to rally was a risk Xander wasn’t willing to take.
He rounded the guy’s side and straddled his calves. Locking the tank’s neck between his forearms, he gritted his teeth and cranked the dude’s head right.
His vertebrae snapped with a loud pop, and he slumped. The strength left his body. A resigned shake of Xander’s head, and he stepped to the side, releasing the idiot to the floor.
“Four men down. One casualty.” He rubbed his palm over the dull throbbing in chin and surveyed the limp bodies, strode toward Uzi and yanked the knife from his chest. Shit. My bad. “Okay, maybe one more.”
Striding for the door, he slipped the deadbolt and then pried the tip of the knife under the cable running the outside of the frame. A twist of his wrist, and the feed to the camera split with a clean cut. “Door’s unlocked. Outside security camera disabled.”
Stashing the knife along the small of his back, he turned toward the loading bay and the two far doors leading off to a set of identical, lighted hallways.
Time to move. He glanced around the space. It was anyone’s guess how many eyes had been watching that show he’d just starred in, and even though he’d kept the noise to minimum—and apparently skated by without tripping any alarms—he wasn’t about to stand around hanging onto his dick until the rest of the party arrived.
Flipping a mental coin, he jogged toward the hallway on his right. The building’s floor plan had shown a labyrinth of corridors running the ground floor, but from the quick scan he’d gotten, the one on the left sprouted a series of offices, and the right side held larger rooms geared more toward meat handling and cold storage.
As much the thought made him sick, he was hedging his bets Ryan had opted for the latter when it came to stashing Charlie someplace she wouldn’t cause any trouble. And with the bigger rooms, he’d be able to maximize his efforts in the shortest amount of time.
He slowed near the first intersection and pressed his shoulders to the wall, fingers gripping the knife handle at his back. Keeping Charlie cold equaled keeping her quiet. Unable to think through the most logical way out.
Darting a peek around the corner, he checked both ways were clear and headed down the hallway on his right. But if he knew his Charlie, she was doing everything in her power to prove Ryan wrong.
She was smart, knew how to play it safe. And if she had the right resources, there wasn’t a lock known to man she couldn’t pick.
The first hallway empty, he crossed the corridor, his anxiety tripling each time he peered through another window to find nothing but vacant refrigeration, most of the spaces crumbling with age, the floor and walls wet from the leaky pipes strung across the ceilings.
Dammit. He jogged for the next junction and paused near the end as static crackled through a two-way radio.
“What the hell is going on out there?”
A woman’s shrill voice echoed down the tiled floor, and Xander frowned. A woman? Like who, for instance? Byrne had said there was a good chance Ryan was still out of the country, but was the guy really such a pussy, he’d roped his girlfriend into cleaning up his mess?
“I’ve been trying to reach the guys on the radio for over five minutes and there’s no answer.”
“You want me to leave my post and go check?” A dude, southern accent.
Xander craned his neck to peer around the corner, and the hallway stretched with a bizarre, laser-beam focus as that asshole Byrne had called The Postman held a radio in front of his lips.
Blind rage flooded Xander’s limbic system. Fingers flexing around the knife, he lowered his chin as every muscle in his body coiled in preparation to cut the jackass off at the knees.
There could be only one reason he stood outside that door.
“Really? That’s your question? I swear to God, do I have to do all the thinking around here? Of course, I want you to go check.”
And so did he. With every cell in his body.
A calculating smile hitched the side of Xander’s face as he retracted the blade from the waistband of his jeans. Then all he would have to do was stand here and wait for The Postman to come to him.
He muttered a curse. “Fine, I’m heading for the loading dock now.”
Easing a breath into his chest, Xander tensed as the seconds ticked past. Hinges creaked, and he squinted, shifting his gaze over the opposite wall.
Shit, had the guy had decided to cart Charlie along with him? Maybe use her as a human shield? Dammit, that would put her directly in his line of attack.
“Standby. I got a problem.”
A loud grunt, and Xander scowled, slowly releasing the air from his lungs. Another heavy grunt, and he clenched his jaw, stealing a second glance around the corner.
His brows shot up his forehead the same distance his jaw fell.
Sweet Christ in Heaven.
Love, so intense it trumped his anger, swamped his chest, and he took off at a dead sprint down the hall.
* * * * *
Slow. Slow, slow, slow or this would never work.
Foot flexed, Charlie hooked her numb toes on one of the construction light’s three metal legs and tugged the base closer to the wall.
Top-heavy, the light wobbled over the uneven floor, and she quickly braced the bottom with her foot while praying she had enough pressure to steady the damn thing without tipping it over.
Adjusting her back against the damp concrete, she bent her other knee and propped her heel by her ass to increase the leverage. Icy trickles pooled along the top of her shoulders. Another careful tug and the light inched closer with a slight screech.
Her heart crammed itself in her throat, and she waited, eyes glued to the splay of light streaming through the window.
Nothing.
Maybe the thick insulation inside the walls was also doing a decent job of soundproofing the room.
Yay her.
A shiver traveled her spine, and she internally cursed over how fast time was running out. Too cold and whatever progress she made wouldn’t matter. She’d be right back where she started with no escape in sight.
She refused to accept that possibility. No matter what, she wasn’t letting Xander down again.
Setting back to work, she painstakingly shuffled the light into the corner. Tugging and stabilizing over and over until she’d successfully wedged two of the legs against the wall for support, the third jutting into the room at a forty-five-degree angle.
Scooting around on her butt, she placed her back to the stand and fumbled her useless hands along the base. Her fingers located what she could only hope was the metal edge of the leg, and she firmed her lips against the shriek of her muscles, elbows bent to run the zip tie down the outer corner.
She checked over her shoulder, but the light didn’t move, and with each careful scrape, her confidence grew. Gradually increasing the pressure, she leaned into the work.
Heat blossomed in her chest. Sweat popped along her brow, but she continued scraping, scraping, scraping until the zip tie finally split and her exhausted arms swung forward like two dead weights to her sides.
Thank God. She tipped her head back, hissing as burning tingles flooded her elbows, racing down her forearms into her wrists and palms. Thank God, thank God, that part had worked.
Hitching her shoulders, she plopped first one hand and then the other onto her lap, concentrating on flexing and clenching her fingers. She needed them back, all movement and sensation fully functional if she stood one chance at handling the next phase in her plan.
Pushing to her feet, she shook out her arms, hopped around to get herself warm and flopped a few lopsided jumping jacks.
Okay, next. Circling her wrists with the opposite fingers, she squinted at the wire cage guarding the halogen bulb. Then did her best to clean the blood off her palms and used the tails of Xander’s shirt like a dishtowel.
Four metal tabs held the guard in place, one near each corner, screwed to the steel frame housing the bulb and reflective base. She chewed her bottom lip. Zero help there.
Unless…
One of her brows rose as she fingered the thinner, less-sturdy sides of the cage. While they were bent to cover the light, they’d been crooked to form a long metal U instead of being secured to the frame like the top and bottom. If she could just find something to pry one of those bad boys away from the light and possibly fracture the metal, she’d be home free.
Whipping her head side to side, she ran for the chair, upended in the center of the room from when Baldy had knocked her into next Tuesday. After carefully lowering the light onto its side, she fed one leg through the cage and applied pressure to the back.
The bar warped in the middle. Black paint cracked and a few flecks wafted down to float in a shallow puddle.
Dammit. She raked her damp bangs away from her face.
Shifting the leg for a better angle, she tried again, throwing her weight into it, then turned and planted her bottom on the chair with a hard bounce.
The metal cracked with a vibrating ping, and she shook her fists toward the ceiling. Yes! As of this second, she was never again going to worry or complain about lugging around a few extra pounds. Thank God for my glorious fat ass.
Repeating the process with the other side, she soon clutched the exact piece she needed against her chest, eyes watering and the bruises on her left cheek smarting from her giddy smile.
Step two, check. A quick trip to carry the chair across the room and center it behind the door, and she knelt before the lock, eyes closed, fingers trembling, slipping the tumblers with an uncanny instinct Malcolm had always said bordered on precognition.
The lock retracted, and she hopped to her feet. Heart racing, she twisted the knob, and the hinges complained as the door swung in toward the room.
Baldy’s shadow turned in the hall, and she spun for the chair. Hands clutching the sides, she bent her knees to her chest and filled her lungs with as much air as they could hold.
“Standby. I got a problem.” He poked his head inside and she shoved with both feet.
The heavy door caught him square under the chin. His surprised grunt echoed off concrete walls as the back of his head banged the frame.
The door returned, and she jack-hammered her legs a second time, heaving with everything inside her.
A second slam of his head, and his two-way radio hit the tiled hallway. Plastic cracked. The pieces scattered. He grabbed the jamb and frowned as if he wasn’t quite sure what either of them were supposed to be doing.
“Get clear! Charlie, get clear!”
Xander!
She scrambled from the chair and flew into the opposite corner, hands flattened against the adjacent walls. A deafening roar filled the room, and she slapped her palms over her ears as Baldy jerked his head up, eyes blank, and slowly tipped forward like a felled tree.
A gag-inducing crunch as he face-planted the floor, and she clamped one hand over her mouth, the other crumpling the front of Xander’s shirt.
Embedded to the hilt, the thick black handle of a hunting knife jutted from the base of his skull.
Dead. Dear God, he was dead.
She lifted her eyes to Xander, framed in the threshold, and searched the heart-wrenching panic on his bruised and bloodied face.
He’d come for her. Just like he’d said. And he would do so again in a heartbeat if she asked.
Pushing off from the wall, she ran straight for his arms. In one agile move, he leapt over Baldy’s body, his long legs closing the distance, arms open to catch her mid-leap and swing her right off her feet. “Jesus, Charlie. You’re blue.”
God, she didn’t care what she looked like. How much she weighed, or if her eyes were the right color, or if anyone thought she deserved to spend the next twenty years in jail. Only that joy, love, relief… So many emotions she couldn’t process them all surged through her heart and Xander was here. With her. And she was never letting him go. She was never, ever, ever letting him go again.
Legs wrapped around his waist, she hung on tight, trying to steal as much heat from him as she could. “I’m so sorry, Xander. I swear, I never meant for any of this to—”
“Stop.” He leaned back and met her lips, one hand cradling her head and the other planted firmly on her bottom. The heated swirl of his tongue filled her senses with peppermint, and she dove in for more, loving the way he tasted and smelled and pulling every delicious bit of him deep into her soul.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” He rained kisses over her cheeks and chin, her eyelids and nose before snuggling her close, cheeks touching. Just holding her. Right where she’d always belonged. “In fact, I’m pretty sure everyone including the FBI is gonna be thanking you once this is over.” He turned for the door. “Now, come on. Let’s get you outta here before anyone else shows up.”
The black SUV. Dammit, he’d been dealing with the Feds on top of everything else?
“Did they hurt you?” She ran her fingertips over the weeping gash on his cheek. Shit, this was all her fault. Exactly like she’d always worried, her stupid crap had brought him nothing but trouble and it was completely her fault. “Did they make you hand over the formula?”
One side of his luscious, non-stop mouth curled in a smile. “No, Chuck. I stashed it someplace no one will ever be able to get their hands on it except me.” Stepping over Baldy’s body, he entered the hall and glanced side to side. The frayed pockets of his jeans grazed her inner thighs as she slid slowly down his body to her toes. “As for what they said or did, none of that came anywhere close to how crazy I was without you.”
There was no way in hell she deserved him. She clung to his waist even as he shrugged his jacket and flannel shirt off his shoulders and wrapped them around her back.
“We need to get you warm.” His callused palm cupped her cheek. Tingles wound through her jaw as he ran his thumb over the swollen skin under her eye. “Who else touched you? I swear to God, if they—”
“No one.” She crammed her arms into the sleeves and he brushed her trembling hands aside, tugging the zipper up to her chin. “Just Baldy, and you already got ʼim.”
And the sad truth was, she was glad. That jerk had forced her to break a promise. One she’d made to herself years ago.
“Hey.” Xander pulled her to his chest. His lips met and held against her forehead in a fierce kiss. “No one is ever hitting you again. You got that? Never again for as long as I’m around.”
She closed her eyes, fisting the front of his t-shirt. How was it the man always knew exactly what was going through her mind? “Careful, Dade.” She tipped her head back to offer him a watery smile. “Those are some pretty hefty words you’re tossing around.”
And if she was the luckiest chick in the world, they were ones she would do everything in her power to see him keep.
The click of a loaded barrel ricocheted down the hall, and Charlie spun right. Then frowned as a woman she’d never laid eyes on before stepped forward.
A shiver dislodged her shoulders as Xander’s strong arms firmed around her back. Uh-oh… She refocused on his face. If the way he’d tensed was anything to go by, they’d just landed in some serious deep shit.
“Christ,” he whispered. “There’s no way in hell.”