Grabbed by Vicious (30 page)

hands, Terror stripped out of his bloody clothes behind

her. There was no way to ignore his lean, muscled form,

especially in just his boxer-briefs. He was attractive, of

course, but she wasn’t the least bit interested. Where

Vicious had all the bulk of his massive frame, Terror

sported the leaner, meaner look. Now she knew why.

“I take it your mission didn’t go as planned.” She

waited for Terror to climb into the bathtub and stretch out.

She was glad it was designed for taller people.

“On the contrary, it went beautifully.”

“Really?” Hallie placed a towel on the floor and laid

out the supplies she would need. “Call me crazy, but

there’s a dead guy wrapped in a blanket in your hotel

room. That doesn’t sound beautiful to me.”

“That wasn’t related to the mission.”

Hallie’s hands stilled. “I killed an innocent man?”

“Hell no!” Terror shook his head. “That man is a cold-

blooded killer, Hallie. He’s an old enemy of mine. He and

I have been playing cat and mouse for years now.”

“He got the drop on you tonight.”

Terror’s lips settled into a grim line. “Yes, he did.”

“And got snuffed out by a farm girl from the most

backward planet in the Alliance,” she muttered, pulling on

a pair of gloves. A terrifying thought flashed through her

mind. “You know, if he’d killed you, he could have killed

me.”

“I’m sure that was his plan.” Terror watched her

intently. “I think he wanted to strike at us. Kill me
and
the

general’s woman?” He shook his head. “It would have

provoked one hell of a response.”

“Yes, well, he failed. No innocent people will die

because of us.”

“No.” He gestured to the supplies. “Do you know what

you’re doing?”

She nodded. “I had some midwifery training so I

learned to suture. One of the doctors from Safe Harbor

who provided us with medical supplies trained us to

render basic first aid.”

“You were heavily involved in the Red Feather

movement.” He hissed as she rinsed the wound to get a

better look. It was a clean cut and wouldn’t be too difficult

to suture, she hoped.

“You know I was.”

“You were very young to become involved with that

kind of underground work.”

“I was quick and quiet.” She opened the deadening

injection that came with the kit. “This is going to sting.”

“It’s fine.” He winced as she jabbed the needle into his

gaping flesh. “You worked in smuggling at first, yes?”

“Yes. I had the stamina and the speed to carry small

packages like medicine from the drops to the village or

other rendezvous points. They were long runs, sometimes

four and five miles in the dark and through the woods.

Later, I moved to escorting women and children and even

some men out of the village. That was slower, more

dangerous work.”

“But you didn’t let it stop you.” He gave a little nod.

“It’s dead. I can’t feel anything from my hip to my knee.”

“Good. And no, I didn’t let it stop me. Every time I

agreed to take an assignment, I imagined that it might have

been my mother trying to get us to a better place. It made it

worth the risk.” She opened a suturing kit and readied the

needle and thread. “Are you sure you want me to do this?”

“Better you than me,” he reasoned. “Unless you’re

squeamish?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m just not sure it will be

very straight when I’m done.”

Terror laughed and pointed to his face. “I’m sure you’ll

do better than Vee.”

Surprise shook her. “Vicious sutured your face?”

He nodded. “You don’t want to know how. Suffice to

say medical supplies were in short supply in that prison.”

He shrugged. “We made do.”

“I’ll try to make it look nice.” She mentally recalled all

the finer points of suturing she’d been taught before taking

that first stab into his skin. Terror didn’t move or grunt as

she sewed him back together. “You know, Vicious is

going to be furious if he finds out about this.”

“About you looking at me half-naked or the dead man in

my hotel room?”

Hallie gawked at him. “You’re crazy. The dead man,

obviously.”

“I don’t know,” Terror replied. “Vicious is pretty

touchy when it comes to you.”

“That’s because he loves me.”

“Yes, he does.” Terror didn’t sound thrilled to admit it.

“Why does that bother you?” She finished the last few

stitches. “You act like him loving me is a bad thing.”

“It makes him weak.”

Hallie paused and peered at Terror. He wasn’t joking.

He truly believed that. Sadly, she said, “You just don’t get

it, Terror. Maybe you never will.”

“What’s there to get? Loving a woman makes you weak.

Look at Vicious. The man has become soft.”

“Vicious? Soft?” She scoffed in his face and applied the

antibiotic gel. “You obviously don’t know what you’re

talking about.”

“Really?” Terror baited her. “Last week, I found him

counseling one of his soldiers. Before he met you, this was

a man Vicious would have given a swift kick in the ass

and ordered him right to the front lines for some

toughening up, but not anymore. No, now he wants to hold

their damn hands—and that’s your doing.”

“So? What’s so wrong with showing some kindness and

patience?”

“Vicious is running a battle group, Hallie, not a nursery!

And it’s not just the way he treats the men,” Terror added.

“It’s the way he interacts with his officers. Do you have

any idea how many invitations for private parties in the

officers’ club he’s turned down in the last few weeks?”

“I don’t, but his reasons for declining are none of your

business.”

“Probably not,” he agreed, “but I know my friend. I

know that he used to love those parties. There was nothing

he enjoyed more than engaging one of the paid

submissives for a night of debauchery.”

Jealousy bit Hallie, the sting of imagining Vicious with

another woman so painful she flinched. “He has a wife

now. Things are different.”

“Clearly,” Terror said meanly. “The old Vee, the man

who was my best friend, would never have let you lead

him around by his dick the way you do.”

Hallie’s stomach dropped. Was he right? Had Vicious

changed totally just for her? Was he miserable denying

that side of himself? She clamped her teeth together as

pain overwhelmed her. Why would Terror say something

like that to her? She thought he was nice but maybe he was

just a miserable, mean bastard. Rising to her feet, she

snapped, “I think you can finish this.”

“Hallie, wait.”

“Go fuck yourself, Terror.”

It felt so good to use the crude language she’d heard the

soldiers aboard the
Valiant
use. No wonder they preferred

the spicier language. Sometimes a good “fuck-you” was

the only thing that worked.

Her gaze lingered on the dead man rolled up against the

wall. The horror of her part in this mess punched her in the

face. Oh god. She’d killed a man. He might have been a

homicidal maniac but that didn’t change the facts. She’d

committed murder.

Hallie rushed out of Terror’s room and into her own.

She slammed the door closed behind her and slumped

against the wall. Her legs gave way and she slid to the

floor. She squeezed her hands together in her lap and tried

to fight the painful sob that tore from her throat. Guilt

engulfed her.

Terror knocked once and then shoved the door open.

Still in his boxer-briefs but sporting a clean bandage on

his thigh, he stepped inside the room and spotted her on

the floor. He stared at her for a long while before exhaling

roughly. He slid down next to her, keeping his injured leg

straight, and stared at the opposite wall. “I’m sorry,” he

said finally.

“I don’t believe you.” She gritted her teeth.

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“I want Vicious.” Her desire to see her husband

threatened to break her. “I need him.”

“I know you do.” Terror took her hand and curled it

inside his own. “He’s not here. You’ll have to make do

with me.”

“You’re not good enough.” She let a little cattiness slip

through, hoping to wound him as much as he’d hurt her

with his words.

He laughed, the sound rough and pained. Apparently,

she’d hit her mark. “I’m quite aware.”

She cried softly next to Terror. Hot tears spilled down

her cheeks and dripped onto Vicious’ shirt. The guilt

would never leave her. She’d carry this man’s death on

her shoulders until the day she died. How in the world

could she face Vicious and lie to him day after day?

She glanced down and saw the blood stains on his shirt.

“What are we going to do?”

Terror sighed. “I’ll get rid of the body and the bloody

clothes before sunrise. You’ll clean my room while I’m

gone. There are solutions in my bag created specifically to

destroy blood evidence. Then you’ll shower and go to

bed. In the morning, we wake up and pretend this never

happened.”

She turned to look at him. Sniffling and snotty, she

asked, “Just like that?”

He nodded, his face so stoic. “Just like that.”

“How many times have you done this?”

“Too many.” He shot her an encouraging look. “It’s

always hardest the first time.”

“I don’t want to ever do this again.”

“Then we should probably stop going on vacation

together.”

Hallie couldn’t help it. She laughed. She sounded a bit

hysterical, she was sure, but it felt good to release the fear

and panic and pain. With her head pressed against the

wall, she stared at the ceiling and chuckled. She wiped at

her face and tried to get a hold on her wild emotions. “I’m

okay now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then I should go. I need to make some arrangements.

When you’re done cleaning my room, lock your doors,

Hallie. If I’m not back by breakfast, call Vicious and tell

him you need an immediate extraction with full support.

Do you understand?”

She committed his instructions to memory. “I do.”

“Good girl.” He rose and helped her stand. He gestured

to her belly. “I need the shirt.”

Though loathe to give it up, she stepped inside the

bathroom and peeled out of it. She slipped into the robe

hanging on the back of the door and handed the ruined shirt

to Terror. She didn’t let go when he tugged. “Please be

careful.”

“I will be.”

“You said that earlier.”

“I’ll be even more careful this time.” He eyed her for a

long moment. “Get dressed. I’ll leave the cleaning

solutions on my bed for you.” His gaze dropped to her

feet. “And put on some shoes, Hallie. There’s glass

everywhere.”

Nodding, she let go of the shirt and watched him leave.

She pulled on some dark shorts and a tank top and slipped

into her shoes. When she entered Terror’s room, he’d

hefted his burden onto his shoulders. He glanced at his

watch. “Hold still. We’re about to lose power.”

She stopped moving. “Why are we losing power?”

“So I can get this body out of my room unnoticed.”

The lights blinked and went out. The hotel seemed

unnaturally quiet. A quick, soft rap sounded at the door.

Her stomach clenched.

“It’s my fixer. Remember what I told you,” Terror

hissed. “Now get down and hide until I’m gone.”

She dropped to her knees and hid herself against the

bed, putting the piece of furniture between her body and

the front door. She heard the hinges squeal as the door

opened and then Terror was gone. She waited for a few

minutes, just to be safe.

When she finally stood, the power popped back on and

the room was illuminated. She took a long hard look at the

destruction. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to clean up

after the scene of a scuffle. She’d always been the one to

clean up the broken chairs and shattered plates when her

father lost his temper.

Hallie worked quickly and quietly. She made sure every

last piece of glass was picked up and wore the extra set of

medical gloves to clean the bloody splotches from the

floor and bathroom. How in the hell Terror planned to

explain the broken balcony door was beyond her.

Finally finished, she disposed of the dirty cloths and