Exit Strategy (29 page)
Authors: Lena Diaz
His lips twitched again, and the corner of his mouth lifted. “I’ve heard of that, actually. I think the person I heard it from was called a S-M-A-R-T-A-S-S.”
“She sounds like an intelligent woman to me.”
He nodded. “Yes. She is.”
“And pretty.”
“Beautiful, actually.”
“And kind, and sweet, and—”
“You’re pushing it, Rina.” He squeezed her hand.
“You know, the way I figure it,” she said, “as long as we don’t do any kinky tie-each-other-to-the-bed kind of sex, we’re probably in the clear on this PTSD stuff.”
He choked and coughed to cover it as he looked around the waiting room. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. As long as you get the help you need, aka see a therapist—a male, ugly one, by the way—you’ll figure out a way to get past this post-traumatic stress stuff. So we don’t get to tie each other up. Big deal. We can always do the actual sleeping in separate rooms if you’re really worried. And there are other kinds of kink we can enjoy.”
“Good grief,” he whispered, looking around again. “Wait, what kinds of kink?”
She laughed, then sobered. “I heard something else today, from a very wise man. Want to hear it?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Nope. This very wise man, who’s also warm, generous, handsome—”
“Sexy?”
She smiled. “This wise,
very
sexy man said, ‘Stop trying to say good-bye. This is
not
good-bye. You need to trust me. We’ll face the future together, whatever it holds.’ ” She slowly turned to face him. “I haven’t given up on you. You shouldn’t either.”
He cupped her face with his hands. “I’m scared, Rina,” he whispered. “I swear I’ve never been scared before, but ever since I met you I’ve been terrified the whole time, terrified that something would happen to you. And I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid that I’ll hurt you if I stay. I’m afraid of hurting you by leaving. But I’m petrified about facing a future without you.”
She kissed him, then pulled back, her mouth just inches from his. “Do you know what I’m even more afraid of, Mason?”
“No. What?” he asked sadly.
“I’m afraid of facing a future without cornfield sex.”
His eyes widened and he made a strangling noise in his throat. “That’s your plan? Tease me with sex to make me change my mind?”
She batted her lashes. “Is it working?”
“Yes.” He growled and pulled her to him for a hot, wild kiss. He only stopped when someone cleared their throat from the other side of the room, loudly. When he pulled back, he was grinning. “I love you, Sabrina Hightower.”
“I love you too, Mason Hunt. And you’re not ever going to leave me.”
“Apparently not.”
She put all of her joy and love into her smile, but for some reason Mason suddenly shifted in his seat, looking like he was in pain.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He winced, shifting again. “I could be. That is, if you help me out.”
“Anything. What do you need?” She searched his eyes in concern, wondering if he’d been hurt after all and hadn’t told her.
“Have you ever had hospital sex?”
She burst out laughing, finally understanding why he looked so pained. It was a good kind of pain. “No. Is it as good as cornfield sex?”
“Even better.”
They grabbed each other’s hands and ran down the hallway, laughing.
The thrills don’t stop here . . .
Keep reading for a sneak peek
from Lena Diaz’s next
heart-stopping EXIT Inc. novel
Coming January 2016 from
J
ace tapped his brakes, allowing an extra car length to open up between his pickup and the sleek, silver Jaguar in front of him. As he slowed even more for one of the sharp curves on the two-lane road that wove through the Rocky Mountains, he checked the dashboard clock.
Showtime.
The roar of an engine announced the arrival of a white panel van, coming up fast behind him. The headlights flashed, then the van whipped around him, passed the Jag, and cut right in front of it, slamming its brakes.
The Jaguar nose-dived and skidded sideways. Jace braked hard and steered toward the shoulder. But the Jag kept sliding toward the steep ditch on the right side of the road. His stomach sank.
Let up on the gas. Steer into the skid!
The car slammed lengthwise into the ditch with a sickening crunch, the hood crumpled and the windshield shattered.
By the time Jace brought his truck to a stop twenty feet behind the wrecked car, the van was sitting in the middle of the road, parallel to the Jaguar, and the side door was already sliding back on its rails. A man wearing a dark hooded jacket and a ski mask hopped out of the door, waving a handgun and running toward the car.
The ruined car’s driver, a young woman in her mid-to-late twenties, stared wide-eyed at the man running toward her as she frantically pushed her air bag out of her way. She looked back at Jace, her face starkly pale, her frightened eyes begging him to help her.
He popped his glove box open and grabbed his pistol before sliding out of the passenger side of the truck, ducking down to keep the pickup between him and the gunman. He scrambled to the front bumper and gauged the distance between him and the Jag. Ten feet with no cover.
The gunman was just a few yards from the car, too close for Jace to shoot without risking hitting the woman. So instead he pointed his gun at the trees by the ditch and fired two quick warning shots.
The gunman ducked down and reversed direction, backing toward the van as he waved his gun back and forth in front of him. He must have seen Jace peering around his front bumper because he suddenly leveled his gun, aiming directly at him. Jace ducked just as a bullet slammed into the asphalt in front of his truck. He waited a few seconds, gulping in air as he listened intently for more gunfire. When nothing else happened, he duckwalked back toward the bumper, keeping his body shielded by the pickup, and peered around the front of the truck again.
The gunman was gone. The door on the van slammed closed and the van immediately took off, its tires squealing as it raced away. Jace dropped to a crouch in the road, firing several rounds at the fleeing van before it rounded a curve and disappeared.
He held his position, waiting to see if the van turned around and came back.
Another engine sounded behind him. He whirled around to see a black limo screeching to a halt beside his truck. Two men in black suits hopped out of the back doors, aiming guns at him.
Ah, hell.
“Drop your weapon!” one of them yelled.
Jace pitched his gun on the road and raised his hands in the air.
The men ran toward him as another man in a dark gray suit got out of the limo.
“Wait, stop!” a feminine voice cried out.
Jace glanced toward the sound, careful not to make any sudden moves that might get him shot. He was surprised to see the driver of the Jag running toward him, her long, brown hair flowing out behind her.
“Stay back,” he yelled in warning.
She shook her head and ran right in front of him, using her body as a shield. “Leave him alone!” she yelled at the two gunmen as the man in the suit jogged to catch up.
Jace swore and shoved her behind him just as one of the gunmen reached them. He slammed his fist against Jace’s jaw in a sucker punch that knocked him to the ground.
“Stop it, he was protecting me! Leave him alone!” the woman ordered, sounding angry now.
Two beefy arms grabbed Jace and hauled him to his feet. He twisted away and swung his legs in a circle, knocking the other man’s feet out from underneath him. The man fell with a satisfying shout of pain as his head slammed against the asphalt. Jace jumped in front of the woman again, facing the second man who, unfortunately, was now pointing a .357 Magnum in his face.
This was not going well.
“Enough.” The woman stalked past Jace to the man in the gray suit who’d stopped a short distance away. “Daddy, call off your goons. This man just saved my life. A van ran me off the road and a gunman was coming after me until this gentleman intervened. He risked his life protecting me. We need to thank him, not hit him or point a gun in his face.”
The man pulled his daughter against him and gave her a fierce hug before letting her go and heading toward Jace and the others. The man Jace had knocked to the ground climbed to his feet and looked like he wanted to kill Jace. But Gray Suit held up his hand, signaling him to wait.
His eyes narrowed as he studied Jace from a few feet away. He glanced at the Jaguar in the ditch, then the pickup, before meeting Jace’s gaze again.
“You saved my daughter?” he asked.
Jace glanced at the incredibly beautiful woman who’d just come up to stand beside her father. He shrugged. “I don’t know if I saved her or not.”
Gray Suit studied him for a full minute. Then he waved at his men. They both holstered their weapons and moved back.
“What’s your name, son?”
He eyed the two gunmen to make sure they weren’t trying to sneak up on him before answering. “Jace Atwell.”
“I’m Cyprian Cardenas.” He held out his hand.
Cyprian Cardenas. CEO of EXIT Incorporated, Fortune 500 outdoor tour company, front to a secret, brutal organization of professional killers who were supposed to protect innocent people by taking out terrorists but who, too many times, ended up killing the very people they were supposed to protect.
Jace knew all about EXIT Incorporated. Their collateral damage had gone on far too long and it was time someone stopped them. In particular, it was time someone stopped the man at the top, the man who wielded the assassins as his own personal killing machines, eliminating anyone who stood in his way. The man standing right in front of him.
Jace forced a polite smile and reluctantly shook Cyprian’s hand when what he really wanted to do was wretch as soon as he touched him—or put a bullet in Cyprian Cardenas’s brain to make the world a safer and better place.
“And this is my daughter, Melissa,” Cyprian announced.
The woman offered her hand and Jace didn’t hesitate this time. Based on numerous reports that he’d read, he was confident that she was a true innocent to EXIT’s secret charter. She was clueless about the clandestine life that her father led, and all the people he’d killed over the years. Her skin was soft and warm, her grip surprisingly firm. And she smelled as sweet as sin.
He tipped his head. “Ma’am.”
She winced. “I’m still in my twenties, younger than you, if I guess right. Certainly not old enough to be called ma’am.” She smiled as if to soften her words. “Please call me Melissa. I’m the president of EXIT Incorporated. My father is CEO. Daddy, give him a business card. My purse is in my car.”
Her father took a card from his suit jacket pocket and handed it to Jace. “We’re both in your debt, Mr. Atwell. If there’s ever anything that I can do for you, name it.”
Jace studied the card. “EXtreme International Tours, huh? I think I’ve heard of that. You take tourists whitewater rafting up and down the Colorado River, stuff like that?”
“Quite a bit more than that actually. But yes, we specialize in extreme adventures. I’d be happy to give you a tour package on the house.”
Jace shook his head. “Thanks, but I don’t have much leisure time these days. I’m too busy looking for a job. Actually, I’m on my way to an interview.” He winced. “Or I was. Not sure I’ll make it now. I’m sure you’re going to call the police to report what happened. But honestly, I don’t have time to wait around. Can I maybe give you my cell phone number and have you explain to the cops why I had to leave? I promise I’ll head straight to the police station after my interview and answer any questions they have.”
“Hold on, Mr. Atwell.” Melissa put her hand on his forearm. “You don’t have to run off to an interview. It would be an honor to offer you a position at EXIT Inc. I’m sure in a corporation as large as ours we have something that will fit your skills and offer you excellent opportunities.”
A
FTER SPENDING OVER
two hours at the scene of the shooting with Cyprian and Melissa Cardenas and speaking to the police, Jace was finally back in his truck driving toward his house. He grabbed his phone and punched in a number.
“It’s about damn time, Jace,” the voice on the line said. “You should have called an hour ago. What’s going on?”
“What’s going on is that you were way too reckless with that van. You could have killed her. And your gun? Don’t you know bullets can ricochet?”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Did the plan work?”
Jace blew out a long breath. “It worked.” He held up the EXIT business card that Cyprian Cardenas had given him. “Operation Trojan Horse has begun.”
Originally from Kentucky, author LENA DIAZ now lives in sunny northeast Florida with her husband, two children, and a Shetland Sheepdog named Sparky. A former Romance Writers of America Golden Heart® finalist, she has won the prestigious Daphne du Maurier Award for excellence in mystery and suspense as well as the Booksellers’ Best Award for romantic suspense. She loves to watch action movies and hike in the beautiful Tennessee Smoky Mountains, though not at the same time. You can contact Lena through her website,
www.LenaDiaz.com.
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