Blue Blood's Trifecta (17 page)

"Who's buying lunch."

"I swear." Leaning back, she shook her head. "At least that's easy enough to fix. I'm buying."

She pushed out of their arms, walking to the back room, leaving a small uproar in her wake. A smile tickled her lips. Whatever happened between the three of them, boredom wasn't going to be an issue.

For the first time, her world righted itself. Doubts vanished as if carried away by a light spring breeze, leaving only a happy acceptance behind. While not typical, this particular relationship clicked for them and made her life as bright as a cloudless summer day.

A girl could do much worse.

* * * *

"I'm running out to my car. If you can behave yourselves for a couple of minutes, that is."

Rogue glanced at Ryan then shot her a wicked grin. "I can control myself. Ryan?" He shrugged. "He's got the hots for me, you know. Might try a little touchy-feely while you're away."

Ryan sat up in his chair next to the other man, replacing his propped feet back on the floor. "Conceited ass. Think I can't control myself around you?" Truth be told, he enjoyed the new bantering with his old comrade. Less temperamental arguing and more playful teasing, a pleasant change and one that kept him on the edge of arousal most of the time. Like a horny teenager, he struggled to conceal his physical reaction to the two lovers in his life. One was hard enough. Put all of them together in the same room and he burned with desire.

"Were you or weren't you just fondling my rear?" Rogue's eyebrow shot up.

"You wish." He rolled his eyes.

"Definitely what I wish." Rogue's tone lowered to a sultry pitch.

Tempest shook her head. "At least keep your clothes on. Customers hate to walk in the door and find naked businessmen." With a flip of her brunette ponytail, she strode out the front door.

Ryan leaned in, flicking his tongue over Rogue's earlobe.

"Damn." Rogue shivered as his eyes closed. "Keep that up and we may—"

Pop. Pop.

The unmistakable sounds of a gun being fire carried loudly through the air.

"Tempest." Ryan raced for the front door, shoving it open. Spying Tempest hunkering behind her car, he paused long enough to nod in her direction.

"Got her." Rogue drew his gun. "I'll cover you."

Sucking in a breath, Ryan bent over, moving to the nearest vehicle, and peering around. Unable to pinpoint the shooter, he turned his focus on getting to Tempest. "Stay down!"

She swiveled enough to look in his direction, fear starkly written across her features. "No." She shook her head.

With one more glimpse, he sprinted her way, hearing the bark of gunfire ahead and behind him. A nearby ping told him one of the bullets ricocheted off metal. Sliding into Tempest, he drew her into his body, protecting her in the only way he could at the moment, relying on Rogue to cover them both.

"Are you okay?" he asked between breaths.

"Yes." Her voice faltered as she flinched with another loud boom. "Just a little shook up." Pressing her face into the column of his neck, she melted into his larger frame for a long moment before pulling back slightly. "I need a gun. A grenade. Hell, give me a Howitzer. I'm going to blast that man to pieces."

Anger and fear warred inside him. He had to get her to safety and somehow track down the son of a bitch sniper who put those he cared for in his crosshairs. Despite her brave words, he felt the tremors of terror rush through her time and again. The small telling signal fueled the fury burning in his gut.

Her show of spirit put a tiny grin back on his face. Tempest possessed warrior fortitude, although a bit more submerged than his sister's, her willingness and bravery to pick up a weapon and go after bad guys impressed him and endeared her to him all the more. Pulling her tight, he placed a kiss to her temple.

"Little spitfire."

She sighed heavily.

"We're clear." Rogue appeared at their side. "You guys all right?"

Ryan nodded. "I think so."

Tempest sat on her heels and looked up at Rogue. "Give me your gun."

"What for?"

"I'm going hunting. And not for rabbit."

Rogue's lips twitched. Ryan covered a chuckle with a cough.

"I mean it. I…"

"Two down." Another voice broke into their conversation.

Rogue immediately raised his weapon before slowly lowering it. "Shit. Ghost. Sound off next time or it might be your last."

The blond-haired man with the light blue eyes held Rogue's gaze for a long moment before giving him a crisp salute. Without another word, he disappeared back into the brush from where he came.

"Now that was scary." Tempest watched the man go.

Ryan stood up, noting the direction Ghost indicated before he vanished from sight. "No wonder they call him Ghost."

"Be glad he's on our side. I wouldn't want him hunting me."

Both men nodded. Ryan reached down and helped Tempest to her feet. "I have a feeling he left us a gift in the tree line."

"Yep." Rogue pulled Tempest against him, squeezing her tight. "You did good."

She stood up on her toes and brushed a kiss across his lips. "I figured you would tan my hide if I was stupid enough to get shot."

"He wouldn't dare. I'd cut a switch off the nearest tree and take it to him if he allowed anything to happen to you." Ryan countered.

Rogue slipped his arm around her waist. "Let's finish this argument inside. I think Ryan has a couple of phone calls to make."

Together, they walked back into the office. Ryan paused at the door, looking over the lush landscape across from the small building.

How many more were out there, ready and waiting to cut them down one by one?
How can I protect them?
As expert as Ghost seemed to be, could he possibly pull off a hat trick?

With no answers, he gazed through the glass door, the sight touching his heart and strengthening his resolve.

Tempest stood in Rogue's powerful embrace, her cheek pillowed on his chest. Rogue's chin rested on her crown as his lips moved with mumbled words, probably soothing and full of loving devotion.

Ryan clenched his fists. This couldn't happen again
. I will protect them. Tempest. Rogue. Lark. The entire Wind Warrior team if necessary.

Making a spontaneous decision, he pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number. "Count me in."

Chapter 26

After leaving Rogue and Tempest, Ryan drove straight to work, making a beeline for his supervisor. Explaining the situation, he obtained unofficial approval to track Rossi and gather whatever evidence he could, but the captain drew a hard line at disposing of the thorn in his side. Ryan took the order under advisement. The man might be officially untouchable, but that no longer mattered. His job and oath be damned. The man responsible for attempted murder on the people he loved would go down. One way or another.

He called Tempest and Rogue, telling them he would be on assignment for a few days and inaccessible. Rogue grumbled while Tempest sounded worried. He reassured them and clicked off before they could ask too many questions. First of all, he couldn't tell them, secondly, he wanted to avoid a nasty spat with Rogue for being left behind.

Two days later.

He tugged at his bra once more, grumbling under his breath about ridiculous undergarments and disguises. With one more glance in a tiny mirror, he opened the door of the cleaning closet, pushing a cart in front of him. For all intents and purposes, he looked the part of a matronly maid, gathering her necessary tools for another morning of cleaning rooms at an upscale hotel in Paris.

Rossi checked into one of the luxury rooms overlooking the Eiffel Tower yesterday, supposedly on vacation in the city of rich history. He would never leave alive, a vow Ryan clung to no matter the consequences. His sister and lovers would never again be sitting ducks as a hired killer tries his damnedest to fulfill his contract.

Strolling along the hallway, he ambled to the elevator and punched the button, his hands covered with typical cleaning gloves, preventing fingerprints, which could be traced back to him, from sticking to surfaces. Inside his cart, under a big bag of clean linen, was his suitcase. Once his goal had been achieved, he would change clothes once more, and walk away. Hopefully. Security cameras would track his every move. With luck, they wouldn't think anything of an old, worn out housekeeper going about her job.

Once the elevator ascended to the floor, he stepped out, turned a right, and walked to the end of the hall. Knocking on the door, he muttered, "
domestique
," in a falsetto voice. When no sounds of footsteps answered, he used the master key a careless maid left in her cart to open the door. Pushing his cart inside, he shut the door behind him, once again calling out. A quick search found the room empty.

Breathing a small sigh of relief, he hastily searched through rooms and suitcases, until he found what he looked for: a small laptop tucked away in the top of the closet. Pulling two flash drives from his pocket, he jabbed the first in the USB port and powered on the device. In only a couple of minutes, the machine indicated the file transfer was complete. Exchanging one flash drive for another, he installed highly secretive and invisible spyware that would allow Spoon to track every keystroke made. While not a smoking gun, Ryan would venture the information added to what evidence they already had would point a steady finger in Rossi's direction.

Task done, he retrieved both drives and dropped them into his pocket. Quickly shutting down the computer, he replaced it exactly like he found it, before heading to the door. Sliding out into the hallway, he locked the door behind him, and slowly pushed the cart back to the elevator, resisting the urge to hurry or to pull up a slipping sock.

He didn't stop until he reached the employee's bathroom near the back door on the main floor. Gingerly setting out a cleaning sign, he went inside with his cart, shut, and locked the door. Yanking his suitcase out, he exchanged one set of clothes for another, transforming from a gray-haired housekeeper to a middle-aged business man, complete with charcoal suit, deep brown hair, and a silky moustache. Digging out the flash drives, he debated the safest place to store them in case things turned ugly. He could potentially lose the suitcase in an all-out run, which left somewhere on his body. Making a hasty decision, he stuffed them inside the shirt pocket of his undershirt, figuring if they worked out of the pocket there were two other layers of clothing to catch them.

Nine-ten am. Checking his reflection in the mirror, he emerged from the room, suitcase in hand, and strode out the back door, not slowing down until he came across a scene of near panic two blocks away at a cute little outside bistro. Several people stood in a half circle around a man who lay flat on the ground. Even as he watched, an ambulance pulled up, the paramedics jumping out with their boxes of supplies.

"We're out of here."

Ryan jumped at the low male voice whispering in his ear. Too distracted with the happenings, he didn't realize anyone was near. Hell, if he had been more aware of his surroundings, he still wouldn't have seen Ghost.

With a quick nod, he continued down the street, lazily following Ghost who was dressed like a waiter, his normally light brown hair nearly black and his slack clothing hinting at a slight beer belly.

Three blocks away he heard a siren. The ambulance rushing off to the hospital with their patient.

Ghost gestured to a nearby parked taxi. Pulling a set of keys from his pocket, he deftly unlocked the door and hurriedly slipped into the driver's seat as he motioned for Ryan to take the backseat. Following his partner's unspoken commands, Ryan climbed into the backseat, plopped down, placed the suitcase at his feet, and released a relieved sigh.

"Damn."

Ghost drove through the neighborhood streets like a pro, navigating them toward the major highway and the airport.

"Did you…" Ryan began.

"Here. Whatever you do, don't touch what's inside. I presume you have carry-on bag privileges with your government ID?"

"Yeah." With his high level security Ryan walked through airport scanners, flashing his badge or card at security personnel. They always looked at his card and waved him through, along with any bag in hand. Even international flights, through a loose agreement between the US and their allies.

"Stick it in your bag for the flight home."

Curiosity spurred Ryan. Taking the small leather case, he slowly unzipped the top, enough to reveal what appeared to be a pea-sized corkboard pin. "What's this?"

"Dart."

A dart? From a blowgun? Surely not. Those would be longer and leaner. This one appeared to be something placed by hand.

"What's in it?"

"A drop of topical anesthesia in order to make the dart painless when it hits. Inside the injector is a mixture of Australian eastern brown snake venom and epinephrine."

"Traceable?"

"Only in areas that see lots of bites from brown snakes. Which is not Paris. The epinephrine increases the uptake of the venom, which is a neurotoxin and can mimic a heart attack. Which is exactly what happened."