Kidnapped Hearts (19 page)

She
disappeared over the small dune leading to the boardwalk. Quickly, he ran the
fifty yards to catch up. She wasn’t there. A red light coming from his bedroom
caught his attention.

The
perimeter of the property had been wired prior to their arrival, so the constant
threat of someone sneaking up behind them would be dissolved. Now, the light
blinked through the darkness, letting him know someone uninvited was here.
Earlier, he had run out of the house without taking any of his equipment,
leaving the indicator in his bedroom along with his gun. He shook his head and
drug a hand down his face. “Damn, dumb move.”

The
hair stood up on the back of his neck. He needed to get Pamela the hell out of
dodge. He sprung onto the boardwalk leading to the beach house a hundred yards
away and heard mumbled voices. Figures moved at the bottom of the stairs, one
grabbing the other. He gritted his teeth and bounded up the walkway.

His
feet flew out from under him. A solid object rammed him in the side, hurling
him into the sand. He popped up. Before he had a chance to duck, something hard
whacked his face, slamming him back into the sand. “Son of a bitch!” His face
burned, but he needed to get up and help Pamela.

He
went for his gun, then remembered where he left it. If his dick hadn’t led him
to the beach chasing after her, he wouldn’t be in this situation. He lifted his
head off the sand, spotting a man wearing a jacket running in the opposite
direction. His head hurt too much to chase him down. Instead, he eyed the
house.

Clouds
were moving in, covering the light of the moon. He had excellent vision in the
dark, but with his head throbbing, he couldn’t focus. Until he located the man
who fled, he was a sitting duck and no good to Pamela. His brain engaged,
telling him to get out of the open. On his stomach, he slithered through the
sand until he reached the low growing vegetation.

He
lifted his throbbing head, closed the more painful eye, and skimmed the area. A
large lump lay close by. His gut twisted. Closing the gap, the shape of a man
came into view. After checking for a pulse and finding none, he dug into the
man’s pocket and pulled out a wallet. His finger traced the edges of a badge,
exactly what he was afraid of. He set the wallet on top of the man and finished
searching him.

Retrieving
a gun, flashlight, and a radio, he pushed the talk button to call for backup.
No reception or the batteries were dead. He pocketed the radio, then crept away
from the fallen agent toward the trees on the adjacent property. He needed a
more substantial hiding spot to get his bearings.

A
hand clasped his ankle, stopping him. Ready to kick and pull the trigger, Jake
blew out a puff of air when the man released his ankle, and said, “Don’t shoot.
I’m Agent—”

Jake
shined the light. The man lay on his back with his hand tucked inside his
jacket, a bloodstain on his shirt. “You try it, and I’ll shoot.” Jake pointed
the gun at his head.

The
agent stared up at him. A moment elapsed, then he responded, “I was reaching—”
he paused, gasping for breath, “—for my badge.”

“Uh-huh,
if it’s all the same to you, keep your hands in view.”

He
groaned. “The bastard came at me from behind.” The agent coughed. “I engaged in
watching Ms. Young in the water and didn’t pay close enough attention to my
surroundings.”

Jake
grimaced and reached inside the agent’s pocket. The badge confirmed that the
man told the truth. “Black Scorpion?” Jake asked as he examined the injury.

“Yes.”
The man’s reply came out on a short breath.

A
knife wound in his stomach, blood splattered the sand around the body. “Where’s
your weapon?”

“I’m
lying on it.”

“Radio?”

The
agent dipped his head slightly. “Don’t know.”

“Where’s
your partner?”

The
man winced. “Don ... don’t kno ... know.”

Jake
tore a piece of the man’s suit and pressed it against the agent’s injury. “Hold
this snug.” After tilting the man up, he retrieved the gun. “Don’t shoot the
wrong guy.”

“I
won’t.”

Jake
snapped off his light and checked the surroundings. The throbbing in his head
lessened. He looked over a bush toward the house. A few lights were on, but he
couldn’t tell if Pamela was inside or not. He hoped so. The red glow still
emanated from his room, which didn’t help with him determining Pamela’s
location. If she saw the glow, she may or may not turn it off.

No
doubt there was a leak within the FBI, a mole.

Two
agents were down and who knew how many more. Had they ambushed like they had at
The Memory Café? After the silent alarm was activated, more agents should be
arriving. His eyes shifted to the agent gasping in pain. The clouds moved off,
and the full moon beamed.

The
air stirred, and Jake’s instincts went on high alert. Someone was close. A
faint sound of feet scooting across sand mixed with erratic breathing grew
near. The hair on Jake’s neck rose again.

Another
second passed; he did an about face as an intruder thrust a knife forward. Jake
clutched the man’s wrist with one hand and slammed his fist into the
assailant’s jaw. The man stumbled backwards. Jake removed the gun from his
grasp as the man fell to the ground.

The
attacker righted and charged toward Jake.

Jake
held fast, the blade pushed into flesh, and the intruder collapsed. After
verifying he was spent, he searched the dark leather jacket for the FBI issue
radio and gun. He found nothing and quickly scanned the area with his
flashlight.

Not
a single person in sight.

Turning
his attention back to the agent, he asked, “How are you doing?”

The
agent coughed. “Not too good.”

“Hang
in there.”

“I
could have shot the man, but you kept getting in the way.”

“I
figured,” Jake said over his shoulder, as he started toward the house.

“Hey,
man.”

Jake
stopped. “Yeah?”

“There
are four of them. I heard them say no more agents were left, and the man had
the girl.”

Jake’s
heart raced, and the metallic taste of adrenaline reached his throat. He’d kill
whoever touched Pamela. “What man?”

“I
don’t know.” He coughed. “Shit, I have blood coming out of my mouth.”

“Hang
tight.”

“Are
you
The Warrior
?”

“This
is a hell of a time to ask me a question!”

“It
is,” the man sputtered, “but I was hired to kill you.” The man aimed the gun at
Jake.

“You
gotta be fucking kidding me. I don’t have time for this shit.” Only a few
inches away, Jake could grab the gun easily. The man’s weakened state would
make it a no contest. Then why didn’t he?

“Listen,
I really don’t want to kill you. I’m not that kind of man. If I pull the
trigger on myself, will you tell them I was killed in the line of duty, so my
family can get my life insurance?”

There’s
the reason he didn’t move. As much as he needed to get to Pamela, he needed to
hear what this man had to say. He could have information about the mole. “I
can’t.”

“Then
I’ll shoot you.”

“Who
hired you?”

The
agent lifted his fingers off his wound. “I know I fucked up,” he said through
labored breaths, “but I’m still an agent.”

“If
you’re working with them, why did someone stab you?”

“Because…”
The agent’s cough was followed by a gurgling noise. “Agen….” The gun fell to
his side, and the agent went silent.

“Shit.”
Jake dropped on his haunches. He guessed the man’s family would get the life
insurance after all. If only he had another second to hear who the leak was,
who was corrupting the bureau. He sucked in a breath and grabbed the gun.

Reaching
the front of the house, a motion detector light turned on. Ahead, a bush moved.

Damn, another goon
.
Jake eased to the side of the house and braced himself with his gun at the
ready.

A
man barreled out of the bush, snapped his wrist, slinging a knife at Jake. It
nicked Jake’s chest as he dodged away from it.
 

The
thug charged him, knocking Jake off balance, and sending his gun into the tall
grass.

Jake
reached for the man’s neck.

“Motherfucker!”
the goon spat as he twisted, kicking his foot outward. Missing his mark, the
thug briefly lost his footing, then went for the knife.

Jake
dove, but the man beat him to the weapon and bounced to his feet.

Jake
swung and connected with the man’s face. A quick kick to the stomach, and the
gangster hunched over. Jake lifted his knee and tossed him to the side.

Air
escaped the guy’s lungs, yet he rebounded quickly, the blade glued to his hand.

Jake
spun, kicking a leg in the air. His foot hit the man solid on the side of his
face, and they both fell to the sand.

Jake
righted himself first. His leg came up again, landing in the attacker’s chest.

The
hooligan swayed, and he dropped his weapon.

Jake
advanced, grasped the blade, and pivoted.

The
man rushed forward. His eyes grew wide as the rigid blade pierced his chest. He
crumbled to the ground.

Jake
wiped the sweat off his forehead.

Three
Scorpions down. Who else was out there? He hadn’t been briefed on how many
agents were standing by. If he believed the corrupt agent, then the answer was
none.

Jake
grabbed the FBI issue radio from the Black Scorpion’s belt and called for help.
This one worked. He pocketed the radio and scanned the perimeter. Odd, no other
agents arrived at the sound of the alarm. He groaned. The mole.

Approaching
the back deck, he tried the sliding doors to his room. They were closed and
locked. He went to the side door through the screened-in porch. Locked. Good
girl, so she was in the house. If only he had a key.

At
the glass door on the screened-in porch, he hit his shoulder against it. It
didn’t budge. He picked up an iron flower stand and slung it into the glass. It
shattered, and he waited for the alarm. Nothing. He darted inside and ran
upstairs. Not finding her, he ran down. Where in the hell was she?

“Damn
it all to hell.”

“Jake.”
A weak voice called out, and he heard a door slide open. What if she wasn’t alone?
He bumped his back against the wall and waited.

Chapter
Fifteen

A glimpse of dark hair came into view
followed by normally bright
Caribbean
blue
eyes. Now, the hue was dark. Pamela’s pink lips were tight and downturned,
trembling. Jake would give anything to remove the terror from her eyes.
Dismissing the ache in his chest, and resisting the urge to haul her into his
arms, he continued to peek around the corner in the hall, a gun firmly in one
hand, the other on the table beside him. No telling whether someone was
following her.

Pamela’s body sprang forward. Her eyes
landed on his. Instantly, they widened and her jaw tightened.

Shit, she wasn’t alone. An instant later,
his suspicions were confirmed. A hand covered Pamela’s throat as glaring beady
eyes and a nose with an unnatural bump appeared. The brown jacket signified a
member of the Black Scorpion gang, and the homeboy jeans that hung halfway down
his ass.

“I told you I’d kill you, motherfucker,”
Yasin growled. “Two for the price of one.” Yasin pressed his face against
Pamela’s cheek. “I’m going to enjoy tasting this tender morsel.” Yasin pointed
the gun sideways at Jake. “Drop your gun.”

He had been in this position a hundred
times. Just lift the gun and shoot the bastard in the forehead. This time, it
felt different. Sweat dripped from his face.

Yasin pushed the gun against Pamela’s
temple. “Drop it!”

Jake bent slowly, placing the gun on the
floor. He spread his fingers, letting the gun go, and looked at Pamela’s
tear-stricken face. He’d fucked up.

 
“Not so badass without your gun.” Yasin’s hand
squeezed harder on Pamela’s throat. The hand that held his gun dropped. “And
you’re wearing tighty whities.” Yasin laughed.

Jake glanced down at his briefs, not
tighty whities. His hand slid behind his back, grabbing the gun from the table.
Simultaneously, his head snapped up, and his hand extended.

“Wait ‘til the members hear I killed
The W
—”

Blood trickled down his face as Yasin
crumbled to the floor.

Pamela froze, her face paled. Seconds
passed, she blinked, and slowly her color returned. Without care of his gun,
Pamela rushed into his arms, buried her head in his neck, and wept. He squeezed
her to him and felt his muscles relax. For the last hour, his body had been
rigid with anxiety. Not from fighting criminals—that came with the job—but from
not knowing if Pamela was safe.