Lethal Consequences (3 page)

Lifting his head, he focused on her pretty eyes, ignoring the soft little crease of skin between her brows that signaled her obvious confusion. “Olivia, I need you to know something.”

Her gaze shifted from the far side of the room where she’d been searching for the source of that noise, to his face. And his chest twisted harder at what he was about to say. “Whatever happens in the next thirty seconds, I need you to know that when I opened that door and saw you standing there, it was the happiest I’ve been in . . . probably my whole life.”

A slow, approving smile spread across her kiss-me lips. But it quickly faded, and that crease between her eyes deepened. “Why would that change in the next thirty seconds? If you—”

Every muscle in Olivia’s body went tight and rigid, and without even looking, Landon knew what was behind him.

Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He squeezed his eyes shut tight.

“I didn’t realize this was going to be a threesome,” Chantal said at his back. “Not that I’m opposed, but a little warning would have been nice.”

Threesome . . .

The word echoed in Olivia’s mind, not making sense at first, just hovering as if in a fog. Her gaze slid from the redhead in the middle of the room wearing a skimpy black dress to Landon, still pressed against her front, trapping her between him and the wall. Guilt rushed over his rugged features, pulling on the puckered scar on the left side of his cheek, filling his soft brown eyes. A guilt that was like a fist straight to her stomach.

“Olivia,” he said in a low voice, “I can explain.”

Threesome . . .

Little chinks in the chain of consciousness finally clicked into place. His shock at seeing her, this woman standing here now, his text before she’d left London . . .

We need to talk.

A cold chill spread over every inch of her body. She pushed against Landon’s shoulders, needing space. Needing him to let go. Needing to run.

“Olivia, give me a chance to—”

“Let me
go
.” She pushed harder against him, the force of her shove knocking him back a step, enough so she could breathe.

“Just wait,” he said, holding his hands up in front of him. “And let me explain.”

Explain? Explain what? That he was planning to screw this girl in front of her? No.
No, no, no, no, no.

That familiar sense of panic engulfed her, sucking the air out of her lungs, making the walls close in around her. Frantic now to escape, she looked around for her purse, which she’d dropped when she’d foolishly thrown herself at him the second he’d opened the door.

“Okay, I know you’re upset,” he said, “but just slow down.”

Upset? He thought she was upset? The placating tone in his voice only sent her fury higher. Her sister used that tone when she thought Olivia was freaking out, and while Olivia tolerated it from Eve because she knew her sister was simply worried about her mental stability, she wasn’t putting up with it from Landon. Not after this.

Somewhere behind him, the redhead sighed. “Does this mean we’re not going to have a threesome now? Someone make up their mind.”

Olivia’s humiliation went sky-high. Face burning, she spotted her purse on the floor a foot away, snatched it up, and reached for the door with hands that were shaking more than she liked. “Sorry to interrupt your evening. You can go back to whatever the heck you were about to do before I arrived.”

“Olivia, wait.” Landon’s hand flew out to push the door closed the inch she’d opened it, and Olivia reacted. She didn’t think, didn’t plan, just let go.

Her elbow jerked back and connected with his sternum. He grunted but didn’t move, so she stomped down on his instep and yanked her arm up, sending her fist back to slam into his face.

“Son of a bitch.” Landon stumbled back, and his hand flew to his nose, but Olivia didn’t wait around to see if he was okay. The fight response might have kicked in, but the need to flee was definitely winning out now. She couldn’t stay here. Not a second longer. Not when everything she’d foolishly hoped for was crashing down around her.

She darted into the hall and rushed for the elevator.

“Olivia,” Landon called somewhere at her back. “Goddammit. Please just listen.”

She didn’t want to listen. Didn’t want to hear any excuses. She just wanted to run. The doors opened, and a smiling couple stepped off the car. Olivia darted around them and into the elevator, whipping back to push the button to close the doors.

The couple’s laughing banter turned to surprised gasps as Landon rushed past them.

“Olivia!”

Olivia glanced up and saw him heading her way, a menacing mass of black—black slacks covering his strong legs, black dress shirt over a chiseled muscular torso, which, only moments before, had been pressed up against her, and thick, dark hair rustling as he walked. The only spot of color was the droplet of blood trickling from his nose. Blood she’d put there.

Hot, useless tears blurred her vision. Tears that only fanned the flames of her humiliation. She hadn’t meant to hurt him—she’d just wanted to get away—but right now his little injury didn’t even compare to the pain she was feeling inside.

She stabbed at the button again, willing the doors to close faster. “Come on, come on, come on . . .”

He reached the elevator just as the two metal halves were coming together. Heart racing, she lurched to the back of the car and gripped the railing. The doors snapped shut, and the elevator’s motor began to hum.

But the slap of his hand still echoed in the empty car. As did one agonizing word.

“Please.”

“Motherfucker.” Landon punched the call button repeatedly and looked up at the elevator lights, indicating the car was on its way down.

Just let her go.

Common sense screamed not to go after her, but he had to. She’d flown all the way here to see him, something that had to have taken pure guts considering everything she was still recovering from, and he didn’t want her running off in a foreign city, upset and not thinking straight. Which was exactly what she’d done, thanks to him.

Asshat.

Oh yeah, that’s exactly what he was. That and so much more.

He hit the call button one more time. If he waited for the elevator to come back up, he’d never catch her. She’d reach the street and be gone, and he’d be lucky to find her. He moved for the stairwell, then remembered his cell phone. If he couldn’t find her, he could at least call her—and try to talk some sense into her.

He raced back to his room, thankful to see the door hadn’t closed all the way. Inside, he grabbed his phone and was about to shove his feet into his shoes when something whizzed by his ear. A thwack echoed behind him, drawing his head up.

An eight-inch knife stuck out of the wall inches from his scalp. A chill spread over him, and he turned slowly, looking toward the center of the room where Chantal stood barefoot, twisting a similar knife in her long-fingered hands.

“I didn’t have to miss,” she said in that thick French accent that was no longer heavy with arousal but with warning. “I missed on purpose.”

“I see that,” he said slowly, straightening. His mind whirled, and his body tensed. The set of her jaw, the way she held herself, the way she was staring right at him as if he were prey told him loud and clear she wasn’t just some psycho chick upset she’d walked in on him kissing another woman. She was more.

She placed the tip of the knife against her palm and twirled it slowly until a tiny droplet of blood welled beneath the blade. “Don’t worry about your little friend. I’m sure she’s fine. Or will be.”

Fear pumped through his veins, and his pulse ticked up. A fear he’d never felt—not even when an op went to shit—because he’d never had anything to lose.

His gaze shot to the chair where he’d left his jacket and his Sig. Both were missing. His focus snapped back to her. The lift of her brows said she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Sit down, Landon Miller.” She pointed to a chair with the knife. “We have much to discuss.”

She knew his full name. He’d only given her his first in the bar. His mind ran back to the edge of the tattoo he’d seen on her shoulder in the elevator. This wasn’t a random hookup. He was her mark, and he’d fallen into every trap he’d been trained not to go near.

Every internal alarm he had screamed. He glanced around the room. A two-way radio sat on the small table next to the couch.

He needed to get to Olivia, but first he needed to make sure this woman—whoever she was—couldn’t follow. Cautiously, he moved toward the side, watching her movements from the corner of his vision. A foot from the chair, he grabbed the base of a lamp, yanked it from the wall and end table, and hurled it across the room toward her.

She ducked out of the way. The lamp crashed against the far wall. A whir cut through the air, and Landon leaned to the side, just barely avoiding being stuck like a pig.

“You want to play?” Chantal said in an amused tone. “I can play.”

Another whir echoed. Landon shifted the other direction. The blade cut through the air, nicking his right temple.

He grabbed the end table and flung it toward her. The wood smacked into her body, knocking her backward. She grunted, hit the floor with a crack, and tumbled across the carpet. Spotting one of the many knives she’d hurled at him on the floor, he lunged for it. She growled and charged. Her bare foot connected with his hand before he could throw it back at her, sending the knife flying. She landed another roundhouse kick to his ribs. Pain spiraled across his side, and he dropped to one knee. The next kick sent pain echoing across the side of his face.

“I needed a good workout,” she gritted as she kicked out again. But before she could make contact, Landon caught her foot, twisted her leg, and flung her across the room.

She hit the couch with a grunt. The piece of furniture tipped over, the back cracking against the floor.

Swiping at the blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, Landon pushed to his feet and looked toward the upended couch. Son of a bitch, he didn’t have time for this. The woman clearly didn’t want him dead. If she did, she’d have used a gun and just shot him. That meant she was toying with him. Whatever mental hang-up he had about kicking the crap out of a woman, he had to get over it.

Chantal lurched to her feet, tugged the hem of her dress up, and pulled another knife from a holster at her thigh. Her red hair was a wild mess around her face, and her dark eyes were wide and on fire. She gripped the knife tightly in her hand as she stared at him, her gaze as piercing as her blade. Whoever she worked for and whatever this was about, it was personal to her.

He held up both fists, ready to arc out as soon as she came at him. “Think about this,” he said calmly. “You can live or you can die, but I’m not someone you want to mess with.”

Chantal chuckled, a dark, menacing sound, then charged. Stepping on the seat of the couch, she used her body weight to right the upended sofa and propel herself forward. Landon waited until she got close, swung out with his arm, and knocked the weapon from her hand. It skittered across the floor. She threw her body toward him, stronger than she looked, knocking him to the ground. He managed to hook a leg around her waist and flip her off him.

She scrambled to her feet, swiped at the blood on her lip, looked down, and sneered. “Things aren’t always what they seem, Landon Miller.”

She lurched for the two-way radio on the side table, closed her hand around it, and then darted for the balcony window. The sliding door was open. Landon jerked to his feet and reached for her, not knowing what the hell was out there or what she had planned. His fingers hooked in the strap of her dress. Fabric tore. The tattoo he’d seen earlier flashed—a circle cut by a compass and two diagonal blades—and then she flew from his hands.

Holy shit, she’d jumped. Landon rushed out onto the balcony and watched in shock as her arms and legs flailed in the air. She hit the shimmering green-blue water of the pool on the roof four stories below with a splash. Her head popped back up. Flicking the water out of her eyes, she turned and looked up at him. A victorious smile spread across her lips. Then she swam toward the edge, hauled herself out of the water, and took off at a run, disappearing into the building far below.