Hot for His Hostage (42 page)

“Of course it is, Shay. It’s so good. So right.”

“Wh-where’s Zoe?”

Zoe pinged her stare around the whole room. Tait joined her, clearly on board with
the same task. There was a good chance, despite her presence there as Helena, that
Newport, Stock, and Homer were also observing the party from the next room. But where
would such a camera be?

Once Tait stood close enough to her, he relayed, “Yo, Cary Grant.” It was their pet
name for Caspar. “I-Man’s rising from the fog a lot faster than I expected. Little
B and I are hunting for the room cam now.”

“Little B?” Zoe queried. “But—”

“You’re the new Little B now,” he explained. “Come on, it’s just a matter of time—if
we can get all our asses out of here in one complete piece.”

“Save the wedding invitations for later,” Caspar yelled, “and find the damn camera.”

“Check. Hey, Double-O, you still with us?”

“Wouldn’t miss the fun for the world,” Rhett answered.

“You still want to try your hand at jamming these doors?” Tait charged.

“Is Scarlett Johansson the key to world peace?”

“God help me,” Caspar mumbled.

“Every lock in that building should be tighter than a virgin in five—four—three—”

Rhett’s countdown was drowned by the sound of cracking wood. Zoe joined Tait in whipping
their sights back around in time to see Shay break both his wrist shackles free from
the top of the bed. Coming along for the ride was the mounting plate for the restraints—and
the monitoring camera embedded into it. Both were ruined.

“Uhhh—found the cam,” Tait announced. “And disabled it, too.”

“Where the hell is Zoe?” Shay roared.

Buffy, who had to be either the bravest or most clueless woman she’d ever met, continued
her seduction with a sultry game face. “Sssshhh, baby. It’s going to be okay, I promise.”
Estimation option number three: maybe she really was that desperate for fifty-thousand
dollars. Undoubtedly, her payout depended on producing a healthy baby. But was it
worth getting swung at with a splintered headboard and a couple of heavy chains?

“Zoe. Goddamnit, I need Zoe!”

“Okay, tiger. I’m Zoe, okay? Now let me show you what else I can be…”

Zoe smacked a hand atop the woman’s thigh just as Buffy untied her string panties,
preparing to straddle Shay’s erection. “Oh, honey. Quit while you’re ahead. And alive.”

Buffy flashed her the pert cheerleader grin again. “Oh, it’s okay, doll. Thanks for
your concern but I’m used to some rough stuff.”

“Oh, it’s not him you have to worry about,
doll
.” She flickered her own version of the bimbo smirk while stabbing her fingernails
into Buffy’s skin. “I’ll break it down into simpler terms. You will not fuck my man
tonight. You will not fuck him in the light. You will not fuck him on the bed. You
will not fuck him on a sled. You will not—”

“She gets the point,” Tait interceded. From his rolling medical cart, he yanked out
parts of a rifle and began screwing them together.

“Yeah. I get the point.” Buffy held up her hands and backed off the bed. After grabbing
her shoes, she bolted from the room.

“On a
sled
?” Tait sneered.

“I’m under stress,” she snapped.

“If you don’t get the hell out of there in five minutes, you’ll also be under siege,”
Caspar barked.

“Roger that,” Rhett confirmed. “We’ve got a couple of hawks on the roof now, T-Bomb,
and so far, those bozos think the threat has originated from there. Hostiles are racing
for the higher ground like sheep to the cliffs. We’ve already confirmed Adler’s flight
from the building, too. Someone in that place unjammed my door jam.”

“What about Newport and Stock?” Tait asked.

“No sign of them,” Rhett conveyed.

“Good. That’s really fucking good.”

“There’s no time for cowboy games, T. We’ll be able to keep up the ruse on the roof
for only a few more minutes. You need to get I-Man up and moving now.”

Tait looked over his brother while using an attachment on his utility knife to jimmy
the locks free on all the shackles. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about the ‘up’ part.”

“I do
not
want to hear about it,” Rhett retorted.

“Me, neither,” Caspar growled. “Zoe, can you still hear me?”

“Yeah.” It was the first thing she said since getting her hands on Shay again, and
it was a natural wobble of emotion. “Yeah,” she repeated, as much to the man beneath
her touch as the agent in her tooth. “I’m here. I’m here.”

“This is coming down to you, girl.” Caspar sounded like God once more. “You’re clearly
the only one he’ll listen to. Talk to him. You can do this.”

She nodded, struggling to keep her tears at bay. Right now, she felt like she could
scale Everest if asked—except that holding Shay in her arms again felt like arriving
at the summit already.

“Shay,” she whispered. Then a little more forcefully, “Shay. Baby. You need to wake
up, okay?”

His face flopped against her chest. “Zoe. Please. I—I need Zoe.”

“I’m here, my love. Right here. Open your eyes.” She kissed his forehead. “Good. You
did it once. Try it again.”

“Zoe.” He kept his gaze open but it was a bleary, straw-colored mess as he grabbed
her sweater. “Can you get her for me? I miss her so much.”

“
Mierda
.” Her voice splintered. She fought the total breakdown by sucking in another tight
breath. “Oh, God. I
am
Zoe. Don’t you know me?”

“She says that a lot.
Mierda
. She’s so fucking cute when she spits it out. Then sometimes, she bites her lip after
it, and I just want to kiss her…”

It was good inspiration. In desperation, Zoe went with it, grabbing his face and kissing
him hard. When she finished, she kept her head bent over him, running soft fingers
down the side of his beautiful face and letting him feel the rain of her tears. “Look
at me, Shay. Look at me and know me…please. I’m here and I love you so much.”

He let out a weary sough. “I love her so much. I didn’t tell her, and now I’m afraid
she’ll never know.”

“Oh, Shay.” She cried harder. Prayed that the love in every drop of her tears would
baptize his memory and bring him back to her. “I know. I
do
know.”

“Zoe. I need Zoe.”

“She’s right here. I’m right here. Open your eyes. See me.”

“Zoe.”

“I’m here. Your baby girl. Your tiny dancer. The heart you’ve taken hostage…forever.”

As she rasped the words against his lips, she felt his breath hitch. Then his whole
body seize. Hers did the same, raw dread jolting through her.

What the hell was happening to him? Was it a bad reaction to coming off the drugs?
Was he going to try throwing her away like he did Buffy?

If that was the case, she was too late to stop him. He shifted his hand to her arm
and wrapped a grip around her like a steel claw.

But he didn’t hurl her away.

He jerked her closer.

Zoe stared down, nervously scanning his face again.

Her heart didn’t stop again. But it sure as hell skipped a lot of beats.

His lips stared inching into the grin that could stop traffic. The corners of his
mouth and eyes crinkled. And his eyes…held all the hues of the desert sky.

Only this time, they were the colors of the dawn.

“Zoe.”

It wasn’t his question any longer. Or his plea.

It was his certainty.

“Shay.”

It was her certainty, too.

One layover, a few adventures, and a lot of love later…

Zoe Margarita Madonna Chestain

and

Sergeant Major Shay Bommer

request your presence at our wedding vows…and a second celebration, too

Saturday, October 1 – 3:00 pm

Spring Mountain Ranch

Blue Diamond, Nevada

Barbecue, Bar, Riding and Roping immediately following the boring stuff

In lieu of gifts, please make donations to

The Melody Bommer Institute for Progressive Gene Research

But if you insist—registries can be found at Babies Plus, Infant-A-Go-Go, and Babies
In Arms

RSVP to Zoe’s cell: 702-555-7429

Please leave a message; she’ll return the call…when she’s not tied up.

# # #

Ready for more W.I.L.D. Boys?

Here’s a glimpse of what’s waiting in

A W.I.L.D.ER KIND OF LOVE

A W.I.L.D. Boys of Special Forces Novella

Coming in January 2015

It was going to be a breathtaking fall sunset in Red Rock Canyon. The birds still
sang in a cloudless sky. Awakened by recent rains, the wind was still redolent with
desert lilies, poppies, agave, and cholla blossoms. The air was cool but not cold
yet. On a ranch in the valley below, a band played
Can’t Help Falling In Love With You
for the crowd at a joyous wedding reception. Appropriate, given that the lights of
the Las Vegas strip just started to glitter in the distance.

“Good night to be alive. But an even better one to be dead, I reckon.”

Daniel Colton glanced over at the source of the comment. His buddy, Special Ops Master
Sergeant Tait Bommer, added a cheerful whistle to it while sharpening a wicked battle
knife. The last rays of the day’s sun glinted off the steel as Bommer checked the
blade, which flashed the dying rays of the sun into the eyes of the man who was bound
and gagged in the dirt at their feet.

Dan grunted. “Wouldn’t know the difference between the two anymore.”

Tait nodded. Though he added a frown of sympathy, he kept the expression to himself.
Dan didn’t need the guy’s goddamn empathy, pity, attempt at understanding, or whatever
the fuck they wanted to call all of it. His face was a freak show, end of discussion.
He didn’t want to “process” anything further than that. Didn’t want to re-hash the
mission in which he’d “selflessly saved a woman’s life” in a fire that should’ve killed
her
and
him. Didn’t want to talk about the months of burn therapy that made him wish he really
had died, anyway—or the face that caused most people to think he was.

It was best to simply keep putting one foot in front of the other.

And looking forward to moments like this.

The one advantage to being half Freddie Krueger was that a guy could go anywhere he
wanted and do even more. Eyeballs on the entire guest roster at a Mexican Rivera resort
known for its high security? No problem. The Ken doll side of the face, flashed at
just the right angle, charmed the front desk agent out of her panties enough to turn
it over. Getting past the guards at Cameron Stock’s suite?
Presto magico
. Out came the burned monster, long enough to remind the assholes what they’d look
like once they were worm food, so he could slip in with two hired goons of his own
and make off with the man before anyone noticed.

By the time Stock’s henchmen realized their boss was gone, Dan had the ass-wad drugged
up, tied up, and loaded up into a private transport helo, set on a direct flight here.
The timing was advantageous. Tait was already out in the canyon, playing best man
at his brother Shay’s wedding over at Spring Mountain Ranch. Dan threw a stare over
at the lights of the celebration, where the Elvis tune had become the
Cha Cha Slide
. He imagined the faces of so many friends in that glow, happy and smiling…and not
worried about how to act with him or look at him, the burned husk serving as a reminder
of the off-books operation where they’d all nearly died.

Due in part to the man now whimpering at him and Tait’s feet.

“You ready to do this, spook man?”

Dan chuffed at T’s use of the nickname. He hadn’t been a real spook for a while. Though
he was still on the CIA’s payroll, his indefinite medical leave wouldn’t be lifted
until he received clearance from one of their “approved” head shrinks—and he’d be
damned if anyone was going to crack open his psyche for a guided tour anytime soon.
He let the label slide, though. There was more important work here to be done.

“You know it,” he uttered back.

“Music to my ears.” Tait chuckled when Stock’s eyes popped wide, before his scream
trickled from the edges of the cloth gag they’d given him in Mexico. “But that doesn’t
suck either, Stock. You just sing all you want, because I’ve been waiting a long damn
time for this—namely, from the moment I had to bury the woman I loved thanks to your
terrorism.” He ran the knife over the sharpening stone again. “Learning that you extorted
my mom for years, keeping her from my brother and me, really wasn’t a good helper
for your case either, man. And oh yeah…the bit about my sweet little old lady neighbor
secretly being your minion, assigned to kill Shay and me if mom ever tried to contact
us? So
not
smooth in the karma department. Guess it’s a good thing you got some points back
when Shay and I found Mom last year.”

Dan pivoted so he could plant one boot on Stock’s chest, his face directly in Stock’s
line of vision. “Let’s not forget his unique monster-making talent, either. Maybe
I’ll just stand here and remind you, asshole.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic idea,” Tait growled. “Nice little preview of hell. How sweet you
are, Colton.”

“That’s me. Mr. Giver.”

“Good to hear. That frees me up to be Mr. Karma.” Tait’s voice had doubled in roughness.
Dan could feel the tension rolling off of his friend. While he knew this was a day
Tait had anticipated for a long time, the conflict in the man was palpable. For the
first time, Dan peered directly at Tait. Hard.

“Well?” he prompted. “You ready, man?”

Tait rolled his shoulders then nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” But after he took two steps over,
he paused. And returned Dan’s stare with just as much determination. “No, Dan.” He
shook his head. “Not okay. Dammit, I’m sorry, but…”

Dan glared. Let his jaw plummet. “You’re
sorry
? Are you kidding me?”

A small smile jerked at a corner of his mouth. “Sometimes…you just have to let love
win.” He tossed the knife to the ground then rolled his shoulders again. This time,
the move was more a shrug. “Love’s the winner for me, Dan…the lightning bolt that
just seems to keep hitting. I watched my brother declare the same truth for his life
today. My mom was on one side of me, Lani on the other…lightning bolts number two
and three for me, man. I have a feeling that Lani, Kell, and I will be working on
number four in a while, too.”

Rage roiled through Dan’s chest. Every mottled inch of skin on the right side of his
face began to burn with it, too. Logically, he knew the pain was only memory. Didn’t
matter when memories were as true as reality.

“Well, isn’t that just sweet and special?” He couldn’t spit it viciously enough. “So
glad to know things worked out for you, dude. That traveling all the way to Mexico,
finding this ass-nozzle, flying him out and bringing him right to your feet was so
worth my fucking time!”

Tait’s face—still so surfer-god attractive that he’d turned girls’ heads during Shay’s
bachelor party at Gilley’s the other night—tautened. “Calm the fuck down, Colton.
Nobody asked you to play Dog the Bounty Hunter and traipse down to Mexico on a vendetta.”

“Shut up,” Dan snarled. He grabbed the knife and stomped over, thrusting the handle
back out at the guy. “Shut the
fuck
up, Tait, and send this bastard to hell now—or I will!”

# # #