Bullet to the Heart (27 page)

Along with Ken, Adam, and Dmitry, they’d pulled in Raines and his men, as well as all of their operatives in the US. Total, there were forty men and Gretchen. He’d watched her over the last two days break down her rifle, clean, reconstruct, and shoot it more times than he ever wanted to again.

It broke his heart every time. Her eyes would close and she would leave the space she was in, seemingly transported to a different world where it was only her and the gun. He would never know what she’d been through, but even his wildest imaginings probably couldn’t touch her reality.

She wasn’t invincible, but she was pretty damn close. Stronger than he’d given her credit for, faster than he’d known, she was capable of hand to hand warfare that astounded him. She’d put each of his men, and him, on the ground several times during the last couple of days. Somehow she’d managed to only touch the floor three times. Rand had a feeling fatigue was the major part of that, though most times she seemed inexhaustible.

He’d stayed away from her at night. He needed the distance, though his body literally ached to feel hers against it in the dark hours of night. His hands clenched even now, desperate for the feel of her long red hair spilling over them.

She was hands down the best sniper he’d ever known. Raines, an expert marksman with the Marines, had commented he’d never heard of anyone with the accuracy and ability she’d demonstrated. Rand had researched her family and found nothing. Whatever she knew about them she kept close to her vest, but her ability with a rifle seemed innate. Almost as if she’d been born to it.

He watched as she walked from the house and down to the range, Raines and Dmitry following her. Raines had touched her shoulder yesterday, and it was only the fact that she’d immediately knocked his hand away that had saved the man from Rand.

Rand had been angry with himself for the possessive feeling. It didn’t matter that he was pissed at himself though, the feeling persisted. Watching as Raines followed her, the feeling moved through him again, only it was volcanic this time.

How in the fuck he’d managed to go from absolute hate to need of her in less than a month’s time, he had no idea. It baffled him. But it was unavoidable. She meant something to him. What, he didn’t delve into. She was important, and he cut his thoughts off there. His body ached for hers and even that was more than he cared to admit to himself.

He turned his thoughts even as his eyes tracked the subtle swing of her hips and the glossy sway of her hair. They would leave tomorrow. Flying into Cusco, Peru, they would take vehicles through the Andes Mountains and arrive in Arequipa within days. Gretchen had informed them she had a few contacts that weren’t loyal to Joseph, and would provide adequate travel and lodging. She’d warned it would be little more than huts in the cold of the mountains, but he’d shrugged.

Ken had kept his distance. Something was going on with the man, and Rand needed to find out what it was. He shook his head as Gretchen walked from sight, and then he headed to the house.

He found his best friend in the kitchen, staring out the large bay window that overlooked a barren backyard. In the distance was the lower gun range, and figures moved about, but it was impossible to make out who was who.

“We need to talk,” Rand said with no preamble. “What’s going on?”

Ken grunted. Rand rubbed the back of his neck.

Subterfuge had no place between them. They’d built Trident Corporation with the sole motivation of destroying Joseph Bombardier and The Collective. They’d helped countless families reunite with loved ones, and in some cases, they’d diverted disasters between countries. But their goal had always been to eliminate the entity that had cost them both so much.

Rand looked at his friend, really looked at him, for the first time in a long time. He was a taller version of Lily and had darker hair than his blonde wife, but their features were similar. The slightly up-tilted hazel eyes he’d shared with his sister had been a gift from their Asian mother. The lighter hair, straight nose, and full lips a gift from their Caucasian father. Both were statuesque. Lily had been slim and only slightly curved. Ken was tall, broad shouldered, with heavy musculature.

Gazing at his friend, Rand noticed that where once the similarities between siblings had been a painful reminder of what he’d lost, it was now . . . not. He’d loved Lily, worshipped the ground she’d walked on, but had never truly felt he’d deserved her perfection. Even her anger had made her more beautiful to Rand. Ken’s anger was equally as volatile as Lily’s had been, but now it grated on Rand, pushed every one of his buttons, and made him tense.

“What’s going on?” he asked again and searched for clues in Ken’s face and mannerisms.

He didn’t give anything away.

It all came back to one thing. Ken was hiding something from him. Something big.

Ken took a deep breath and finally glanced at Rand. “I’ve done something I don’t know how to undo.”

“What?” Every muscle on alert, Rand leaned forward, hands on the table, waiting.

Ken shook his head and sighed. “I’m not ready to share that, yet.” Another deep sigh, then “When do we leave?”

“If you don’t share, I can’t help. And I have a nasty feeling in my gut you’re going to need my help.”

“You can’t help me with this,” Ken murmured, and then looked back out the window. A long period of silence ensued. “Now, when do we leave?”

Rand ground his back teeth together. This wasn’t going to be good. For anyone. Ken had a history of being the calmest, most organized, introspective person Rand knew. If he’d fucked up somehow, it was probably huge. Because the man never messed up. He was probably due one.

“Tomorrow. We’ll fly into Cusco, take Jeeps to Arequipa. I’ve arranged lodging in the Yanahuara Villa Hermosa which is about two kilometers outside the city. Gretchen says Joseph’s installation is in the mountains about thirty minutes outside of the city proper. Once everyone is in place, we’ll move.” Rand relayed the plans with no small amount of trepidation.

He was a soldier and had been on enough missions to realize all of them were unique. This one, though, held a promise of vengeance.
So close . . .

“You mean
she
arranged lodging? Tell me, brother, when do you think you’ll wake up and realize she’s a killer?” Ken’s tone was bitter, and it raked across Rand’s nerves.

Rand looked away, anywhere but at the man who refused to trust him. He understood, good God in Heaven did he understand, but it boiled down to Ken trusting Rand, not Gretchen.

Rand breathed out heavily and relaxed his bunching muscles. “I won’t have this conversation with you again. Are you in or out?”

“Oh, I’m all in. Someone will have to be there to pick you up when she betrays you. I’ll watch your back since you seemed so disinclined to do it yourself.”

Rand got up, chair falling back to the ground, and reached into his back pocket. He threw a collection of papers down in front of Ken and strode away. It wouldn’t do to fight with him. Not right now.

There was a shit-load of stuff to do for tomorrow. Rand’s time was best spent preparing.

Remi walked into the house, and the shift in the air was noticeable. She’d spent the last two days training and teaching. Anything she could give them about Joseph, she had. At times, it had been harder than anything she’d ever known, but her conditioning under Joseph had never been so deep-set it was unbreakable. She’d simply always been waiting for the right time to break it.

“Gretchen,” Rand called from the library.

She stopped and hung her head. She’d managed to mostly avoid him over the past couple of days, and that had been a blessing. Oh, yes, her body craved him, but she’d hardened her heart against him somewhat and needed to keep it that way.

“
Oui?”

“You know you only speak French when you’re either angry or nervous,” he said at her back.

“Yes?” She bit out.

“Yeah.”

Her nipples pebbled automatically as her body softened, instinctive reactions to the man who played her body effortlessly. Frustration whisked through her. “Maybe instead of deliberately misunderstanding me, you could tell me what you want?”

“We’re leaving tomorrow. Have you contacted your man in Arequipa?” he asked silkily, not moving away, no indeed, moving
closer
.

Her brain screamed at her to leave. Her body demanded she not move a muscle. “I have.” It was a tiny lie, but amidst so many, it was a minor infraction.

“Then we’ll head out tomorrow morning at nine.” His voice stroked her. Gravelly and deep, it begged her to turn around and sink into him.

She nodded sharply even as she dug her nails into her palms. Any little hurt to sting away the burgeoning and ever-present arousal. Damn him. “I’ll be ready,” rushed from her lips, and she took a step forward.

“Okay.”

He knew, damn him. He knew what he did to her. It was there in his tone, sardonic and slightly mocking. It had her turning before she took another step.

“You can stop,” she growled.

He shook his head, one corner of his delicious mouth lifting up. Yep . . . mocking her.

“Seriously, you’ve gotten what you wanted from me. I spilled the beans, as it were—isn’t that an American saying? So now there’s no reason to do—” She waved her hands between them. “—this.”

He moved a step closer to her, his heat wrapping around her tightly, making her stomach quiver. “What is
this
, Gretchen?”

Her name on his lips, in that deep, seductive tone he had, jerked at her soul. Her breathing slowed and her body weakened. “Stop.”

“No.” Closer. His dark gaze searched hers, and she wondered what he thought he may find within her. “You make me want.” The words were harsh in the silence of the foyer.

“It is only fair,
non
, since you do the same to me,” she whispered. Panic speared her midsection. She always gave him too much in these exchanges.

He leaned toward her, head descending, but as she licked her lips, he bypassed them, breath blowing against her ear. She shivered.

“Your toes are curling.”

His deep voice bounced around inside her head and shot heat straight to her gut. She stayed silent.

He breathed out roughly. “Tell me why this happens so quickly. Tell me why I want you.”

She shook her head and moved a step back. “I have no experience with these emotions. I am more dead than alive, Mr. Beckett. You make my body need things, but not having those things will not kill me.”

He remained where he was and cocked his head, eyes glittering dangerously. “You are correct. It will not kill either of us. Mind over body, yeah?”

Her smile caught her by surprise. Humor? “
Oui
.”

He stared at her. Hard. She found herself in the singularly odd position of wanting to squirm. Her hands twisted together, and she shifted from one foot to the other before she checked her movements.

“You’re uncomfortable. Not what I wanted. I believe you were headed upstairs. I’ll let you go and check in with you later.”

“Please don’t.” He was too much of a temptation. Even now his body called to hers.

His gaze went hot and he nearly reached for her. She wanted him to. She moved farther away. There was so much she didn’t know how to control between them. It was destructive.

Remi turned away, heard him call her name, and continued up the stairs and into her room. She stripped out of her clothes and settled under the warm spray of the shower. She stood there until the water went cold, and still her body ached. Needy and desperate, she finally got out.

She wrapped her hair in a towel, dried off, and lay on the bed. Just a few minutes of rest were all she really needed. Maybe she could purge the desire through sleep.

It was a long time before she saw darkness behind her closed lids.

Rand watched her for a long time before his presence keyed her subconscious. He noticed the subtle tightening of the muscles of her abdomen, and then her fists clenched and her eyelids flickered. All of those signs were faint, but he’d come to recognize that she was diligent, even in sleep.

His mind had struggled with sleep, and it hadn’t been until he’d entered her room and calmed that he’d understood something he’d never thought would be possible. This woman, with her killer instincts and blood on her hands, had wrapped her bruised heart around his, and now they were entwined.

His body reacted to her nearness with a desperation he’d never known. When he couldn’t see her, he wondered where she was. Was she safe? Had she left? He’d chased her the other night, and they’d watched as someone killed the Director of the CIA. Then Rand had killed to prevent Gretchen from being harmed.

He had killed for her. Would do so again, if needed. Yeah, she was deep inside him now, and he had no idea how the fuck it had happened. He shied from it even as he gravitated toward it.

She was a broken person. Strong on the outside, but a million pieces inside. Stubborn did not adequately describe her personality. She didn’t need a goddamn thing from him, and that, more than anything, bothered him. Her goal was the same as Rand’s but different. Rand wanted to survive.