Authors: Allie K. Adams
At Any Cost (8 page)
The sound of the engine sent Dan into action. He jumped out of the shadows and grabbed JT. They both fell to the ground. He braced them as best he could, but she still received the brunt of the impact. He heard the air whistle out of her lungs when they hit the cement. The car whooshed by, barely missing them.
JT cried out. They'd landed on her shoulder, ripping it back open once again. The blood started its lazy descent down her arm.
Then the gunfire started.
"Come on!" He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. He led them away from the warehouse, staying low and zigzagging as best they could. She stumbled and he looked at her, fearing she'd been hit.
Shit. He'd forgotten she didn't have any shoes on. Her limp seemed more profound after damn near cold cocking him with her foot. But she did an adequate job of keeping up with him, and without complaint.
He should have known better than to come back to NASSD. He gritted his teeth as JT tripped and almost took them both down. With a jerk that should have ripped her arm clear out of her socket, he pulled her back up. She regained her footing and kept going.
He glanced down at her feet. Who knows what she had imbedded in them, and yet she didn't complain, didn't slow down. His unwanted admiration for her swelled.
He knew she couldn't go on like this much longer. And neither could he. They were both tired, hungry, and JT was fighting blood loss. They couldn't out run a vehicle, for Christ's sake. But every path he tried was blocked in one way or another.
This did not look good.
As soon as Dan had spotted the reflection of the car parked inside the building, he knew this wasn't the meeting JT Turner thought it was going to be. She'd told him this meeting was with someone who had connections to some big players. He was going to provide her a list of potential buyers. Yet, when Dan asked what the man wanted in return, she couldn't come up with a straight answer.
JT Turner was a terrible liar. Which worked out to his advantage. He knew to be on his guard. Then she'd disappeared into the darkness inside the warehouse. He couldn't hear their voices, couldn't see how many there were. Dan didn't like it. He couldn't see
her
. If he couldn't see her, he couldn't protect her if something went wrong.
And something did. Jesus Christ. Did it ever.
Damn it. This was why he liked to work alone. Alone he could escape the car, the bullets. Alone he could get the jump on them and take them out one by one.
This way, he not only had his own ass to save, but now hers. And he didn't like that he was more concerned about her ass than his. She'd found a way to screw up his priorities in the short time she'd intruded on his life. Damn her.
This was too personal. Too fucking
familiar
. The last time he'd put the importance of a woman's ass above his own had cost him his career, his best friend's life, and damn near his own life. What would it take to get it through his thick head? A two by four across the back? Because he'd already had the message stabbed into his heart.
"Try the door," JT rasped, panting. She wouldn't hold out much longer. Locked, of course. Dan pulled JT down a short alleyway. No luck. They turned back around just as the car pulled in behind them. "Oh shit."
"Exactly." Dan pulled out his weapon and fired on the driver. The car slammed into reverse and whipped out of the alley, giving him and JT the chance to escape. He looked around in all directions. There was nowhere for them to run. It was like a wide-open firing range, and they were the targets.
They were toast.
What was he thinking agreeing to Donovan's insane plan? Dan was no mole, and JT wasn't stupid. He could tell she didn't trust him and yet she went along with it. If she was the mole, and Dan would bet his left nut she wasn't, then what would she have to gain by agreeing to split the profit? Especially if she already had the means to a list of potential buyers through this so-called contact?
He grabbed her hand and ran off toward the dock. JT hissed, stumbled. Dan pulled at her arm. "Come on, Turner. Don't make me carry you."
"Ditto, Weber," She bit back and picked up speed so much she started to pull him, impressing him yet again.
"There they are!"
Dan's spine straightened and if JT hadn't been pulling him, he would have skidded to a stop. It couldn't be... That voice. He could have sworn...
A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed his suspicion. It was.
Jason Peck
. The bastard ultimately responsible for the scar on Dan's chest, and his partner's death.
What in the hell did he have to do with JT? And then it clicked. Just as Dan suspected all along, Peck was the mole.
He almost turned around and ran back toward him. He wanted to snap the asshole's neck. But that would be too quick, too painless. Peck needed to suffer. Dan wanted to see the fear in his eyes when he pulled the trigger. He wanted to make sure Peck felt every ounce of Dan's rage. Blow by painful blow.
And if he killed Peck right then, he'd never know why. That plagued Dan as deeply as Gessler's death. Why would an agent with a perfect track record up and disappear one day only to return as the enemy?
His thoughts were interrupted by the screech of tires. Apparently they found a new driver.
"Why are they doing this? I gave them the disc," JT panted.
Dan didn't miss the fact she turned the disc on its data side when she slid it over. No doubt it rendered the disc useless. Apparently she was on to Peck as well. Smart girl. The little prick would have one hell of a time retrieving any data off that disc. When he did, he'd get a nice dubbed version of The Eagles CD, "When Hell Freezes Over."
Which was exactly how long Jason Peck would have to wait before Dan would ever allow him to get his hands on
"You've seen him, heard his voice. He can't afford a witness." Dan knew firsthand what Jason Peck was capable of.
The car's engine revved behind them. A shot rang out. JT stumbled, this time coupled with a sharp cry. She went down.
Oh no. She'd been hit. Again.
"JT?" Dan had to all but carry her. She tried to regain her footing, but her right leg kept giving out. He couldn't see where she'd been hit, but that didn't mean anything. "Are you hit?"
"No," she panted. "I stepped on a rock."
"Then run, damn it. Run!"
He couldn't outrun the car carrying both their weight. He'd have a chance on his own, but it wasn't the way NASSD agents worked. Like the Musketeers, it was all for one and one for all. The unwritten code of the counter-terrorist agency. That much they'd learned in
"Move your ass, Turner."
One foot in front of the other. Faster. Faster. The car was closing in. More gunshots. Lucky for them, the enemy was a lousy shot.
He eyed the pier. Dead ahead. Twenty yards. If they picked up the pace, they just might make it.
"Can you swim?"
"When the occasion calls for it." Her eyes widened when she realized what he had in mind.
"Take a deep breath!" Without hesitation, he hurdled off the end of the pier, pulling JT with him.
The water felt like ice against his skin, sucking the breath out of his lungs.
anytime
of the year. He could only imagine how cold it felt to JT. A t-shirt and shorts were the only thing protecting her. At least he had more clothes on.
He surfaced first and searched for JT. She poked her head out of the water moments later. Placing his finger over his lips to signal her to stay quiet, he listened.
She followed him as he swam toward the pier. It had a large gap underneath the dockworkers must use for maintenance. If they were fast enough, they could hide under there and wait it out.
Only after they were safely tucked under a large chunk of cement shaped like an H did he turn and look at JT. Her dark hair was slicked back off her face. Even in the dark her green eyes glowed. She really was a beautiful woman.
The car stopped above him. Doors opened. Footsteps. "
¿Usted piensa que ellos están muertos?
" Hmm. More Spanish. Peck must be working with Mercado. That's why he wants
"I know I hit one of them. If the bullet doesn't kill whoever it hit, the sharks will. Let's go," The other responded in Spanish. Two men. Laughing. Doors closing. Car backing up and driving away.
Idiots. The waters of
That thought weighed on him. Mercado must have smuggled his men into the
"You mind telling me what that was all about?" She demanded, surprising the hell out of him. This was supposed to be her meeting. He was just along for the ride.
And yet he knew more about what just happened than she did. She was no mole. No, she was just an innocent agent who landed her trust in the wrong guy. He knew first hand how that felt.
"Later. Right now I'd rather get out of the water before we both slip into hyperthermia."
"No arguments there." She did her best attempt at swimming with her bum shoulder. Eventually she kicked her way over to the ladder leading back up to the dock. Slowly, silently, they snuck up the ladder. Dan sneaked a peak over the edge.
Nothing.
Which didn't necessarily mean they weren't there.
"Come on, Weber. While we're young." He felt a hand on his ass, urging him up the ladder. The contact sent a shot of warmth through to his gut.
"We need to make sure they’re gone."
"They're gone."
"How can you be sure?"
"I recognized their voices from the hotel. Not exactly the ripest cherries on the tree," She grunted as she hauled herself up out of the water, and the sound made Dan's inside spin like a tornado.
A chuckle swelled from deep inside his chest. Even standing barefoot on a pier, soaking wet in freezing seawater, she still kept her sense of humor. It was refreshing.
"Let's get out of here." Without thinking, he grabbed her hand and led her away from the end of the pier.
"How?"
That was a good question. The motor home was surely covered by now. If they moved it, Peck would know they were still alive. Hell, when their bodies weren't found floating in the water come morning, he'd know.
JT kept eyeing him weird, making him feel like he had a giant squid plastered to his head. He just couldn't read this woman! Finally, after one look too many, he stopped and turned to her. "What?"
"Nothing. It's just, after what just happened, I don't know who to trust."
"Welcome to my world," he muttered. The air bit down on them, forcing a shiver out of him. If they didn't find shelter soon, they'd both be in trouble. "Let's go."
JT wanted to trust him. To trust someone. But right now she didn't care. She was cold. Tired. And her feet were killing her, not to mention the gash in her arm had opened up and started bleeding again.
Her apartment was only a few miles away. She had a first aid kit there. It wasn't the most comprehensive, but with the help of Dr. Dan, it at least contained a couple of butterfly bandages to close the wound. She glanced down at her arm. It really didn't look that bad. It may leave a scar, but she could live with that.
"Where are we headed?"
JT ignored him. She didn't want to deal with questions right now, even if she did know the answer. There were too many questions where she didn't. Instead, she drummed along, freezing from ass to elbow, trying to get home before losing consciousness.
"Hey? Turner? You still with me?"
What time was it? It was awfully quiet on the streets of downtown
At this point, JT almost wanted them to find her. She craved violence. Getting shot at twice in one day really ticked her off. Beating the tar out of someone right now would soothe her nerves.
She shot a glance at Dan. No, better not touch him. Not only could he take her down in more ways than she wanted to admit, she didn't understand the reaction her body had to him. Whenever their eyes met, or their bodies were in close proximity to each other, electricity charged the air. Until she could get her hormones under control, she needed to keep a safe distance from Dan Weber.
Like another continent.
JT huffed. Well, this had been an enlightening day. She'd succeeded in finding the mole. Too bad he turned out to be her contact with HQ. Jeez Louise, how could she have been so gullible? He played her like a puppet. He had her risk her life to steal the disc, and now he had it in his back-stabbing clutches.
Yep, very enlightening.
Productive, as well. Breakfast, get shot at. Lunch, form an alliance with a man she didn't know whether to trust or not. Dinner, get shot at again.
Another reason to hate Mondays.
She limped on her right due to stepping on one too many rocks. She limped on the left due to the humongous bruise on her foot from Dan's jaw. Her shoulder stopped bleeding finally. Maybe she'd run the blood well dry. God only knew she'd bled enough already.
The pain in her shoulder had settled to a dull roar. It really didn't take long for the human body to repair itself. The gash would create a nasty scab, but would disappear in a few weeks.
Much like her career as a NASSD agent.
Did she even want to be a spy? She loved her country and would do anything to protect it. NASSD offered her a position with intel when she originally joined NASSD and she'd turned it down. She wanted action. JT laughed inwardly. Well, she got it.
Be careful what you wish for.
Intel wouldn't be so bad, if they'd still take her. She had a knack for numbers, for breaking undecipherable code, and could remember a person's voice after only hearing it once. She spoke English and bad English, which wouldn't count as two languages, she was sure. But JT hadn't met a task she couldn't master. That should count for something.
Just one problem. She didn't want to be intel. She liked being a member of the counter-terrorism agency, just like her Uncle Charlie. For as long as she could remember, Uncle Charlie talked about being a Superspy. Her mother would always tell JT to ignore Uncle Charlie and his wild stories, that he was simply making them up for her entertainment. It wasn't until JT's father had been killed on a mission did her mother finally come clean.
Yes
, she'd told her.
Your father and uncle belong to a secret underground organization whose mission is to remove any and all threats against the world, regardless of the risk.
JT never did get the details of her father's death, only that Uncle Charlie disappeared for about six weeks after his funeral. When he'd returned, the once fantastic stories of his missions suddenly turned to tales of gore in gruesome detail.
But JT couldn't forget how thrilling he'd made being a spy sound. He used to tell JT all about the glories of taking down the bad guy. JT knew she wanted to be NASSD. She wanted to be a Superspy and tell her kids and grandkids glorious stories of how she used to save the world, just like Uncle Charlie.
Then NASSD went and shut down the project he'd been working on his entire adult life. He had a nervous breakdown as a result and they removed him as a NASSD agent. Permanently.
JT couldn't believe it. Her uncle, a mountain of a man with shoulders big enough to block out the sun, was now nothing more that a crumpled, aged man sitting in his recliner in a convalescent center, staring out the window day in and day out.
NASSD took his dream, his lifelong dream. They'd crushed it, and in turn crushed him. JT shuddered. They were about to crush hers, too. If she made it through all of this without a prison sentence, she'd be chained to a desk for the rest of her professional life.
"Cold?"
"It's forty degrees. I'm in shorts and a t-shirt. And I'm wet." JT could barely get that out before her voice started to shake. The last thing she wanted to show was her emotions. Women show their emotions. Not NASSD agents. Not JT Turner.
And not in front of the surly Dan Weber.
Now that she knew Dan wasn't the mole, could she trust him with the details of her mission? She'd have to. They were in this together now. They knew about him, which meant he was in as much trouble as JT.
A quick glance behind her told her Dan was still there. Not that she needed to see him. She could actually
feel
him, feel the heat his gaze delivered. He could have left her. He could have saved his own ass. Instead he saved hers and risked his all in the same swift motion. And by doing so, made his presence known to the mole.
"Where are we?"
JT looked up. She hadn't been paying attention and almost passed the alley leading to the door to her second-story apartment. Inhaling deeply, she could smell Mr. Wong's Chinese cuisine. Her mouth watered. She hadn't eaten anything in almost twenty-four hours. JT made a mental note to call down to Mr. Wong when she got inside. Sure, it might be late, but he always had an extra bowl set aside for her.
She threw open the heavy alley door and stopped. The stairs loomed in front of her. She'd never noticed how many there were before. With a deep sigh, she started to climb, every muscle aching in protest. She never realized how steep they were, either. Although she tried not to, she whimpered with every step.
It felt like thousands of needles had imbedded themselves into the bottom of her feet. She didn't want to know what she'd really stepped in. Her hand on the rickety railing to keep her steady, she paused.
An arm around her waist shocked her, and she stiffened. Dan looked down at her with those captivating eyes, robbing her of all reason. When he pulled her to him, her heart raced and thudded in her throat. "Let me help you. You've been through enough today."
The feeling of his arm around her sent surges of heat through her, centering in her core. Her nipples, already painfully hard from the cold, puckered even more. Trembling, she held his gaze and nodded slightly. He disturbed her in so many ways. Those piercing blue eyes raked across her face, her heart. They were mixed with emotion, clouded, and JT didn't know whether he planned on helping her up the stairs, or throwing her down them.
He licked his lips. As his gaze rose back up to her eyes, she felt the heat slam into her cheeks. He held her gaze as he lifted her into his arms. Not exactly the help she expected, but she didn't protest. Effortlessly, he climbed the rest of the stairs, set her down outside her door.
JT didn't know what to think. She kept her eyes hidden, her mouth shut. The heat that had started in her cheeks now settled deep into her core. Were they having a moment? If she opened her mouth, would it ruin it?
Judging on her past relationships, without a doubt. She stopped herself.
Relationships
? He helped her up the stairs, not proposed to her.
She reached up and grabbed her extra key from above the door jam. Not exactly the safest hiding spot, but since she had a habit of losing her keys all the time, it worked for her.
The door opened way too easily. In fact, it wasn't even locked. And JT knew she'd locked it. It was another of her habits. Lock the door. Lose the key.
She stiffened, and Dan noticed. "What is it?" He asked, his voice slightly agitated. He pushed her behind him and opened the door slowly. "Do you have a weapon?"
"Right. Hidden in my bra." Her non-existent bra.
He looked at her, his gaze scraping over her face before settling on her breasts. Her nipples puckered to the point it hurt when they brushed against the fabric of the shirt. He spiked his brow as he brought his eyes back up to hers. "Trust me, Turner. If you had one on, I'd know."
Heat slapped her cheeks. She looked down. The white cotton shirt she wore left nothing to the imagination. She might as well be naked for as much cover as it provided. At least the shorts were dark and still left her coarse curls from view.
"Where's your closest weapon?"
"Inside, strapped under the desk next to the door." Before she could stop him, he threw open the door and grabbed her weapon all in one swift move. Damn him! "Where's your gun?"
"At the bottom of
"No." She pushed him aside. "This is my apartment. I have every right...to..." she trailed off, the sight stunning her into silence.
Her apartment was in shambles. Every inch of the tiny place was overturned. Her couch cushions were ripped open and the stuffing strung all over the floor. Her picture frames were all broken, the pictures inside torn to shreds.
JT tried to run inside, but Dan's large hand on her abdomen stopped her.
"They may still be here." He kept his voice low and even, forcing her into the same sense of calm. "Stay behind me."
"Let me in." Her voice shook. Damn it.
"No."
"Let me in! If they are still here, then I want to be the one to find them." She pushed him. He didn't move. His eyes bore into her, the muscle in his square jaw flexing and releasing.
He thrust her 9mm into her hands. "Take this. Go to the right. I'll take the left."
"But then what are you going to use for a weapon?"
He raised his brows. "You said you wanted to do this, so let's do it." With that he disappeared into the bathroom off to her left. JT jumped into action and took the right. Her living room was clear, and aside from every drawer overturned and spilled all over the floor, her kitchen was clear, too.
"Clear." His voice behind her scared the bejesus out of her. She tensed and spun around. He stood mere inches from her, that clouded look back in his eyes. A delicious shudder washed through her, pooling between her thighs.
She couldn't help but notice the way his gaze kept drifting down to her lips. Licking them, she lifted her chin. She wanted those lips on hers. Now.
"Change your clothes and grab a first aid kit if you have one. You have three minutes."
Was he kidding? She could barely walk. She wanted a hot shower, an even hotter bowl of Mr. Wong's teriyaki chicken, and her bed. If he wanted to join her in bed, she wouldn't kick him out. Although they were both exhausted, she knew if he did join her, neither of them would get much sleep. The thought of his lips finally on hers, his hands on her body, his cock sheathed by her had her wet with want. "I have a better idea."
She took a small step toward him. He didn't back away, which encouraged her to take another step.
This time he did take a step back. "What are you doing?"
"I just thought..." she nodded toward her bedroom, "you know."
He growled and took another step back. "This is hardly the time, Turner. Get your stuff and let's go."
JT huffed in return. What was the matter with her? He didn't want her, much to her dismay. Why couldn't she get it through her thick head? She'd never really had to deal with rejection before.
Maybe he didn't get it. Maybe if she just walked up to him and grabbed his crotch, told him exactly what she wanted him to do with it, he'd give in. Her eyes lowered to the rigid shaft hiding behind his zipper, straining to spring free. Obviously parts of him wanted her, even if the stubborn ass refused to admit it.
"You're doing it again."
Her gaze flew up to his face. As his eyes narrowed in on her, she gave him a look to feign innocence. "What am I doing?"
"Looking at me like I'm on the menu. I'm not interested." Even as he said it, he licked his lips and looked at her with such heated desire in his gaze she felt her body warm. He bit back whatever else he'd planned to say.
Humiliation stung her eyes. He didn't want her. End of story. The mortification made it hard to breathe. She hated that she allowed herself to get caught up in the moment, to let her need for him taking over all other rational thought.