Authors: Aliyah Burke
No matter what Gordon’s state of mind, he had chosen a beautiful
dress. Even with the bruise on her cheek, CJ had to admit she looked
pretty good once dressed.
There was a sadness in her eyes that took away from the overall
image she presented; but as her shaking hands placed the tiara on,
Chantoya knew Gordon wouldn’t care.
With the train attached, CJ sat down to wait. Her heart fought
valiantly to find a slow rhythm and give her some sense of decorum
and control. A knock at the door barely gave her pause. This moment,
to her, was paramount to walking the plank.
“Are you ready, Chantoya?” Gordon’s voice, a voice that at one
time had been relaxing to hear, asked.
“Is the preacher here?”
“No, not yet.” The doorknob turned.
“Don’t come in, Gordon. You aren’t supposed to see me before
the ceremony.”
“If this is some sort of trick, I’m warning you right now, CJ—”
Fire flashed in her eyes. “Look, at least give me this. You aren’t
letting me have family or friends around.” CJ knew her voice sounded
sharp and drawn, and she couldn’t care less.
“I’ll be right outside the door. He’ll be here about nine.”
“Whatever.” CJ continued to sit on the edge of Gordon’s bed.
She could see a shadow outside the door but didn’t move. For all she
knew it was a trick and Gordon was watching her right now. There
were cameras in his room as well.
It had been extremely difficult to take the nail file and keep it
hidden but she’d been unable to resist the attempt when she saw it
there in the bathroom. Another reason to hold still. The tight dress
didn’t leave much room to conceal a makeshift weapon.
Half past eight. Watching the clock, CJ wriggled her toes inside
the shoes on her feet.
He finally gave me shoes.
Trying to control her
emotions, CJ realized she had to wait until the main door was opened
or figure out how to shut off the power to the voltage that ran into the
handle.
That wasn’t a nice feeling, having all that power sent through me.
Even if stabbed, Gordon would present a huge danger. He
might still have a gun on him, not to mention, he was healthy, in his
element, much stronger, and extremely certifiable.
Quarter to nine. Twenty or so versions of how things could go
ran through her mind.
Anytime now, the preacher will be here.
Stab Gor-
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don? Where? Eye, throat, crotch, arm, chest, or wherever she could
reach. She had no clue.
“Fuck!” she heard Gordon yell. “Goddamn raccoons setting off
the perimeter alarms!” He sounded nervous.
Hands began to sweat and Chantoya wiped them off one at a
time on the comforter. How she longed for her necklace and the comfort
it brought her. A Madonna and child with her name engraved on the
back, she had worn it since before she could remember. She hoped that
if her brothers found it, they would know she didn’t go willingly, for
she never took it off.
“He’s on his way up,” Gordon told her through the door. “Soon,
Chantoya, soon you will be mine.”
Calm. Serenity. Fortitude.
One hand ran down her face as she
shifted on the bed.
Stay strong, CJ. You will survive this.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Explosions rocked the house and plunged it into total darkness.
CJ screamed and hit the floor.
What the…?
Fear she had been try-
ing to control surged forward and spilled over. When a hand clamped
down onto her shoulder, she began to fight.
Struggling as she was dragged across the floor, gagging when a
foot hit her in the gut. “Shut up!” Gordon hissed, not at all sounding in
control. Reaching for the file, she plunged it into his thigh as hard as she
could. “Aarrgghhh!” he hollered.
None of that registered to her as she scrambled in the direction
she believed the door to be. Yanking it open, CJ barreled out into the
pitch black hall and kept going.
How far to the stairs? Was it seven or nine
steps?
“CJ!” Gordon yelled as shots began ringing behind her. Appar-
ently, he had managed to make it to the door as well, for one of the
bullets landed in the wall beside her.
Not slowing, CJ panicked further when she ran into something
solid.
Another man? Gordon? His preacher?
She fought as hard as she
could until she was easily restrained and felt cloth cover her mouth and
nose. As she fell into oblivion, Chantoya could somewhat make out
Gordon’s voice as he cried out her name in pain and anger. Then there
was nothing.
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Aliyah Burke
As the chopper flew away into the night, Osten ripped off his
night vision goggles and had a light on CJ as he checked her over. She
was unconsciousness and he longed to wake her, but it had to be this
way.
Renewed anger and the desire to kill filled him as his fingers
traced the hand prints that were on her shoulder and cheek. Still, his
touch was beyond tender as he cleaned away the sweat and dirt from
her face.
People were silent as they headed back from a mission they nev-
er even went on. The fact CJ was in a wedding dress wasn’t mentioned,
or that Osten had almost killed Gordon. It had taken Tyson and Aidrian
to pull him off the unconscious man.
The other men in the chopper allowed a slight grin to touch the
corners of their stern expressions at the way Osten cradled Chantoya’s
body against his. They didn’t say a word as he attached a necklace back
around her neck before lowering his face by hers and just holding her.
As the chopper landed, there was a waiting vehicle into which
Osten placed CJ. Dark eyes conveyed the unspoken message of safety
and speed to the man who got behind the wheel and drove her away.
“You’ll be with her soon,” Harrier’s voice said softly. “He’ll take
good care of her.”
Osten never moved until he could no longer see the taillights of
the vehicle transporting his future. Then and only then did he follow
Harrier into the hangar and entered a dark SUV.
Forcing himself to not answer his ringing cell phone, Osten still
checked the number. It was Ajani. A few minutes later, Osten played
the message Ajani had left: Chantoya had been found and was recover-
ing in the hospital. Then Ajani gave him the name of the hospital and
her room number.
The rest of the night passed slowly as the men ran drills out in
the cold weather. Harrier finally let them go at 0930 and Osten’s hair
was barely dry as he left the base and headed for the hospital.
His steps were quick despite his exhaustion as he entered the
building. Without speaking to the receptionist, he made his way up to
Chantoya’s room.
A moment of hesitation stopped him outside, but he opened the
door slowly. Sharp eyes landed on the figure that lay so still on the
hospital bed. The normally dark skin was pallored and contained a gray
tint.
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The only chair in the room was taken by a large man who sat in
silence by the prone body. Worry lines filled his scruffy face. He held
one of her hands in his own. His fingers caressed her skin.
“Ajani?” Osten spoke softly, not wanting to startle him.
“They’re keeping her sedated until they make sure there is no
remaining toxin in her.” Ajani never looked away from his sister. “How
do they knew what they gave her won’t make it worse?”
With a deep breath, Osten moved fully into the room and
walked to the other side of the bed. “Have faith.” Looking down, fresh
rage immediately swarmed the Italian. Her face still bore the remaining
traces of bruising.
Oh, my precious CJ. I long to kill him for doing this to you.
Barely aware of her brother in the room, Osten brushed a hand
across Chantoya’s forehead before leaning down to kiss her. Trailing his
lips along her cheek he stopped by her ear.
“Don’t leave me, Chantoya. I need you in my life.” A wry grin
flitted briefly across his face. “I know, I know. That’s selfish of me, but I
don’t care. You mean more to me than anyone I’ve ever known.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I wish I were lying
there instead. Fight to get through this, CJ. You are resilient, like the
willow tree. You can make it. I’ll be waiting.”
Osten reached around and removed his necklace. With the care
of a man touching something so delicate, he put his gold necklace in her
hand, kissing each finger as he closed them around the cross. He
wanted to put it upon her neck, but her own necklace was there and he
knew it gave her comfort.
“Mr. Scoleri,” a low voice grated behind him.
“Yes?” he said without turning around. His eyes flickered to
Ajani who looked between him and the person behind him.
“You are going to have to come with us.”
Brushing a kiss on the back of CJ’s hand, Osten stood and
turned. Special Agent Marks. “What for?” All the compassion in his
eyes left, leaving a blank stare.
“For interfering with a federal investigation.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know damn—”
“Don’t cuss in front of my sister!” Ajani snapped out, his voice
harsh enough that the other men fell momentarily silent.
“My apologies,” Special Agent Marks said. Then he looked back
at Osten. “You know fully well what I am talking about. Going in and
blowing up Gordon’s home and beating him.”
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Aliyah Burke
Osten shook his head in disgust. “I did nothing of the sort.” He
turned his attention back to CJ. All tender emotion returned as he gazed
down at her. “Come back to me, CJ.
Non posso vivere senza voi. Voglio
passare il resto della mia vita con te. Sei la mia anima gemella.”
He kissed her
on her dry, cracked lips and brushed a strand of hair away from her ear.
Facing the frowning agent, Osten said, “I’m not going to argue
with you in here. Step out into the hall and say your piece.”
The FBI man nodded and waved Osten out first, closing the
door behind him. “Why did you interfere?”
“I didn’t interfere with a damn thing,” Osten said, holding the
other’s gaze.
“Then can you explain what happened out in the mountains last
night?”
“I don’t know what happened in the mountains last night. I
wasn’t in them. I was here on base.”
Marks ran a hand over his head. “Cut the crap. We both know
that you busted in there, blew up his place, beat him up, and rescued
the girl.”
A glint appeared in Osten’s dark eyes. “Is he still breathing?”
“Yes,” Marks answered. “Why?”
“Because I would have killed him if I had gotten a hold of him.”
Understanding filled the older man’s gaze. “I believe you would
have. But that doesn’t negate the explosives, or the fact she was gone
when we got there.”
“Look, I just got here. I left base about 0945 this morning. Had I
been the one to rescue her, I would have brought her in and would have
been the one to call her brother telling him she had been found. Not the
other way around. So, back the fuck off!” Osten snarled.
“Pretty defensive for an innocent man,” Marks taunted.
Osten didn’t back down. “Any man would be defensive with
you treating him like you are treating me.”
“Who can corroborate your story?”
“You can call my CO, XO, or any man from my Team. We were
running drills last night. We were doing a 30-30.”
“A 30-30?” Marks asked.
“Thirty feet over the water in a helo doing thirty knots. We jump
in fully geared and swim back to shore. Last night was a short one, only
five miles in.”
The federal agent couldn’t hide the shocked and slightly im-
pressed look. “That’s what you did?”
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“Yes, sir.” Osten was never going to admit to this man just how
truly exhausted he was. The “nonexistent” rescue, the 30-30, and the
“easy” fifteen mile run that followed had taken their toll on him more
than usual given his attention was on Chantoya.
Osten waited for the next question. His tenuous hold on his
temper was fading fast. CJ was in the room right behind him. He
needed to be with her, not answering a crabby man’s questions.
“If that’s all, I’ll be getting back inside,” Osten said calmly.
That got the man’s attention. “Actually you still have to come
with me. Until we get all of this straightened out.”
“You’re arresting me?” Osten asked, incredulous.
As the annoying man stood there and assessed Osten’s question,
he flipped through the notebook silently. “No, not arresting you. I’m
detaining you until I am satisfied with this story you gave.”
“Are you fuckin’ shittin’ me?” Osten demanded, his muscular
physique tensing. Special Agent Marks merely stared back. “The
woman I love is in there and you want to detain me? Because you don’t
believe my story? Listen you asswipe, I suggest you make this quick,