Midnight Rescue: A Killer Instincts Novel (3 page)

“So commanding, aren’t you, Jim? I see power still gets you off.”

“Just take a fucking seat.”

“Very well.” She offered a faint smile. “I’ve pushed your buttons enough today, haven’t I?” Moving with the grace of a lioness, she pulled out one of the chairs and lowered her body into it.

Morgan moved toward the table, choosing a chair as far away as possible from the blonde. “Here’s the deal. The package is being held at Luis Blanco’s compound. She”—he gestured to Noelle—“wants us to extract it.”

“Not
it. Her,
” Noelle cut in, steel in her voice. “God, Jim, still so fucking professional. You’re not extracting a package. You’re rescuing one of my girls.”

Morgan glared at her. “You want to run this meeting, baby? Because I warn you, my men don’t follow anyone’s orders but mine.”

She fell silent, but the frown never left her face.

“So, an extraction from Blanco’s compound,” Morgan repeated. He glanced around the table. “What do you think?”

Kane resisted a laugh. What did he think? Uh, not much to think about there, except
hell, no
. Luis Blanco was untouchable. Along with trafficking arms and drugs, the guy ruled the South American sex trade. The DEA
hadn’t had much luck in gathering evidence against Blanco. The bureau continually came up empty-handed too. The man was too smart and too calculating to allow himself to get caught. He was as shady as they came, and the current suspicions that he was smuggling Asian minors into South America and pimping them out weren’t all that far-fetched. It would be just his style, in fact.

“What was the package doing tangling with Blanco?” Luke asked, sounding as unenthused as Kane felt.

“She was doing her job,” Noelle answered in a frosty tone. “Blanco was her target.”

“Who contracted her?” D inquired sharply.

“Let’s just say the Colombian government is growing tired of Blanco,” Noelle said vaguely. “They think he’s giving the country a bad rep. My girl went in to remedy that.”

Kane had to laugh. “She actually thought she could kill him?”

A pair of blue eyes pinned him down with a deadly glare. “What’s your name?”

He gulped. “Kane.”

“Well,
Kane
, not only was she perfectly capable of killing him—she had plenty of opportunities to do so. She infiltrated his organization two months ago. She gained his trust. Hell, she probably even got the bastard to fall in love with her.”

“Then why didn’t she off him?” he returned.

Noelle frowned. “I have no idea. Last time she checked in, I got the feeling she was stalling. I ordered her to do the job, and then she went off the radar. That’s why I came to you,” she added, her frown deepening as she glanced at Morgan. “The people who hired us are getting impatient, but me… Well, frankly, I’m just worried.”

“How long since the last check-in?” Ethan asked without meeting Noelle’s eyes. Not surprising. Ethan was shy enough as it was—put him next to a sexy assassin and he turned into a terrified bunny rabbit.

“Two days.” Noelle let out a heavy sigh. “I tapped a source who told me Blanco’s holding a woman in that makeshift jail of his. It’s gotta be her.”

“Some agent you’ve got there,” D rasped, leaning against the railing and stretching his long, tattooed arms.

Noelle’s head jerked toward him. “She’s the second-best assassin in the world.”

D raised one black eyebrow. “And the first?”

“Me, of course.”

Kane watched with interest as the two locked gazes, and he could have sworn he heard the air begin to crackle. The lethal glint in Noelle’s eyes rivaled the deadly glimmer in D’s. Strange, but he got the feeling they were two peas in a pod. Dressed head to toe in black; cold, expressionless faces. Sexual tension streaked between them, and still they held the gaze.

Finally Morgan cleared his throat. “The woman in the jail—you sure it’s your girl?”

Turning away from D, Noelle nodded. “Description matched Abby.”

Morgan’s blue eyes suddenly narrowed. “Wait a second—Abby
Sinclair
? Why the hell didn’t you mention it was her?”

Kane glanced at Luke, then D, to see if either of them knew who this Sinclair chick was, or why Morgan had reacted to her name. Both men shrugged as if to say, “Fucked if I know.”

“Would it have made a difference?” Noelle asked coolly.

“Jeremy was a friend. Of course it would’ve made a difference.”

Kane’s head was swimming with bewilderment. Abby. Jeremy. Who the hell were these people?

“Then you’ll do it?” Noelle said, relief all over her angelic face.

Morgan swore under his breath, then turned to the men. “I’m gonna be straight here. Blanco’s compound will be a bitch to get into. Getting the package out will be an even bigger bitch. This ain’t gonna be easy.”

Kane studied his boss. “You’re going to try anyway.”

Morgan nodded.

“And if we say no, you’ll still do it. Alone.”

Another nod.

Holy cow. What was going on? Morgan never took on suicide missions. And it was obvious he felt serious animosity toward the blond bombshell sitting at the table. So why was he agreeing to breach Luis Blanco’s compound? Obviously, even after eight years of working together, Kane still knew shit-all about his boss.

But he did know there was no way in hell he’d let Morgan do this alone. Suicide mission or not, Morgan wasn’t a man you said no to. He was the man you stood by until the bitter end.

“Okay, count me in,” Kane murmured.

Luke nodded, while Ethan said, “Ditto.”

Morgan glanced at D. “What about you?”

“I go where you go, boss.”

Something that resembled relief flashed across Morgan’s face. With a sigh, he got to his feet. “I’ll call the others.”

“Morgan,” Noelle said.

He stopped at the terrace door, waiting for her to continue.

She leveled him with a dark look. “What’s this going to cost me?”

Without answering, he left the terrace.

“Shit,” Noelle muttered under her breath.

Kane’s gaze drifted back to the blonde. At the moment, she didn’t look like the most lethal woman in the world. She looked worried. Almost scared.

Before he could stop himself, he met her eyes and quietly asked, “Who is Abby Sinclair?”

Noelle slowly rose from the chair, her blond hair falling down her back like a silky curtain. At first he thought she wouldn’t respond, but halfway to the door she stopped, that lithe body turning, those sexy blue eyes reaching his. “She’s one of mine,” Noelle said before stalking away.

Twelve more days.

Abby leaned against the cold stone wall of the cell, bringing her knees up so she could wrap her arms around them. Her wrist throbbed from the motion, and acid crept up her throat, threatening to gag her, choke her. She touched her chest and felt the welts, realizing the guards hadn’t put her clothes back on this time. She was naked. Her entire body hurt, a dull, constant ache that pumped in her blood and sent tremors through her muscles. It was fine.
She
was fine. She only had to endure it for twelve more days. Not long at all. A lifetime.

Poor Noelle. Abby bit her lip, thinking about her boss. Only two people had ever given a damn about her. Jeremy was one. Noelle was the other. The woman had recruited Abby after Jeremy’s death, taken her into her home, trained her, made her indestructible. The two women had forged a bond over the years. They’d both
endured seriously shitty childhoods, and both had dragged themselves out of the gutter and given the finger to everyone who’d hurt them. But Noelle’s experiences had inspired a craving for power. There was never enough power to be had, according to the dangerous blonde.

Abby—well, she wanted revenge. That was why she’d allowed herself to be captured by Blanco, deliberately blowing her cover. She could have killed the son of a bitch a hundred times over in the past two months. It had been so very easy finagling her way into his life. She’d researched him to no end before taking the assignment. He preferred redheads, so she became one. He liked meek little pussycats, so she became one. She allowed him to woo her. She moved into this empty, sterile compound. Hadn’t fucked him, though. It had been a pleasant surprise, learning the mighty Luis Blanco couldn’t get it up. Arm candy, that’s all he wanted, and that she gave him.

She hated deep cover, but with this gig there hadn’t been a choice. Half a dozen bodyguards surrounded Blanco day and night. When he left the estate, he and his men made sure a sniper couldn’t get a clear shot, so straight-up bullet-in-the-brain had been out. His servants tasted his food before he ate it, so poison was a no-go. After she moved in, she decided a pill-induced heart attack might be the way to go, but then she’d gotten derailed.

If she came out of this alive, she was in for a long lecture from her boss. Hell, she’d probably get canned. But who cared? All it took was the memory of those girls in the bunker, those naked, bleeding, dirty girls, and the overwhelming need for revenge trumped everything else. Noelle, her job, her own freaking safety.

She was going to free those girls, even if she died trying.

Abby sat up, fighting the dizziness that came with the action. She blinked, cleared her head, and examined the cell for anything she might be able to use to defend herself. Although she could handle the beatings, the notion of sexual violation made her blood run cold. Using sex as a weapon was one thing. It was done on
her
terms, a tool she used when it was the only way to carry out her mission. But being sexually victimized? No fucking way. She’d been there, done that.

Blanco had told Devlin not to touch her. How sweet. He wanted to save her body for the scumbag who would purchase her at the auction.

But Devlin… Abby had seen the lust in his eyes during their last visit. And the fury, when she’d spat in his face. Rape was definitely on the bastard’s agenda. So far, even the beatings were tame, compared to what she knew he must be craving to do to her. A broken wrist and some bruises weren’t the end of the world. Devlin did enough to inflict pain, but not enough to kill or mutilate her. No, that wouldn’t go over well with the perverts who attended the auction. Twelve more days of beatings—she could handle that. But even a second of rape? Never again.

No potential weapons in the cell. She would need to rely on her own skills to overpower Devlin, a difficult task considering one wrist felt broken and her entire body ached from the whipping.

You’re stronger than you think, Abby.

Jeremy’s voice again, accompanied by a memory of the drills and exercises her adoptive father had forced her to undergo. He’d maintained that every teenage girl
should know how to defend herself. As a grown woman, she knew he’d been right. Because really, who knew when you might find yourself bloody and beaten in a sociopath’s Colombian prison?

The guards returned nearly an hour later. The tall one, Rodriguez, approached the iron bars. “Did you get a nice rest?” he chortled, his accent sounding garbled in the stuffy hallway.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside. Bent down and unceremoniously hauled her up to her feet. Her head had cleared but she feigned a bout of light-headedness, lurching forward so the bulky dark-skinned man was forced to grab for her.

“Señor Devlin has a surprise for you,” the guard said. The hard glint in his dark eyes belied the pleasant smile on his lips.

There would be nothing pleasant about this next encounter. Of that she was certain.

She was taken back into the interrogation room. This time the guards didn’t tie her up. A cot was now set up in the corner of the room, boasting a mattress stained with fluids she never wanted to know about.

Rodriguez pushed her down on the mattress. It creaked as her weight hit it. The second guard stood by the open door, leering at her naked body like a lion hovering over a bloody carcass.

A moment later, Devlin stepped into the room. He wore a pair of khaki pants and a white button-down shirt, his brown hair slicked back from his face, emphasizing his harsh, angular features.

“Hello again,” he said cheerfully. “Did you miss me?”

She didn’t respond.

Anger flared in his soulless eyes. “Still not talking, are
we? That’s fine. No words are required for what I have in mind.” He nodded at Rodriguez, who promptly unzipped his trousers.

Devlin must have seen the glimmer of dread in her eyes because he laughed. “Don’t be scared of Javier. He’s only going to fuck you, not kill you. And when he’s done, Sancho here will take his pleasure.” He hooked his thumb at the second guard standing by the door. “And after Sancho’s had his fun, it will be my turn.”

Devlin licked his bottom lip and swept his gaze over her bare breasts. “I have to warn you, luv, that I probably won’t be as gentle as my predecessors.”

“Touch me and I’ll rip your eyes out,” she hissed.

She made a move to sit up but Rodriguez shoved her so that she was flat on her back. He glanced at Devlin as if asking for permission, and when the other man nodded he dropped his trousers and pulled out his cock. Chuckling, he wagged it in front of her face. As a rush of rage swept through her, Abby tried to bite at the tip but the guard slapped her hard across the face with one meaty hand. Her bottom lip snagged in her teeth. Blood filled her mouth.

“Let the games begin,” she heard Devlin murmur.

Like hell they would.

She closed her eyes and waited for Rodriguez to lower his big body onto hers. His fingers dug into her sore thighs, attempting to pry her legs apart, his throbbing organ searching for her opening.

“You ready, señorita?” he muttered, his hot breath fanning against her ear.

“Yep.”

Before he could blink, her arm soared upward. The
heel of her palm smashed into his face, breaking his nose, and as he grunted loudly, distracted by the pain, she wrapped her arms around his thick neck and twisted. He died instantly, his hand still on his cock. Ignoring the pain shooting through her wrist, she scissor-kicked herself onto her feet, lunging for Devlin, who looked stunned by the violence that had just transpired.

He reached for her but she delivered a well-placed kick to his balls and shoved him away. The guard at the door was drawing his gun but he was too slow. Her fist connected with his nose before he could act. Blood poured from his nostrils. She jammed her finger against his carotid artery and knocked him out cold. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he dropped to the dirty floor like a stone, unconscious.