Lethal Consequences (7 page)

Olivia’s eyes slid closed. She was going to be sick. Landon hadn’t just broken her heart, he’d lied about who he worked for. And not only that, he wasn’t a black ops agent. He
killed
people for a living.

Could this be true? Was it real? She didn’t know what to believe. Who to trust.

“We need your help, Ms. Wolfe,” Chantal said, sliding Olivia’s wallet across the table toward her. Olivia opened her eyes and stared down at her school ID sticking out of a slot in her wallet. She’d hated that photo when it was taken earlier in the year, but looking at it now, it was like a shadow of the person she’d become. Someone she wished she could warn. “We want you to be able to go back to your old life in Idaho, but you won’t be safe until we can stop Landon Miller. More innocent people don’t need to die because of him.”

She’d been so blinded by hero worship these last few months, she hadn’t taken a close look at the real man. Hadn’t even thought to question what he’d told her.

“Wh-what are you asking me to do?” Olivia managed, staring at her ID card and a face she barely recognized.

“Find out where Danica Crossler is located. He knows. If he gets to her before we do, she’s as good as dead. And since you’re involved in this now too,” Chantal added, “so are you.”

L
andon stood by the door, silent and motionless. Olivia had been gone at least twenty minutes. Flashes of what they’d done to him—of what they could be doing to her now—echoed behind his eyes, but he forced them back. He couldn’t think about what was happening to Olivia. If he did, he’d lose it, and he needed to keep it together so he could get her out of this hellhole.

He didn’t know where they were. Whatever drug they’d given them in the van had knocked them both out, and he didn’t know how long they’d traveled or in what direction. All he knew from the small window high on the wall was that it was dark outside, and that the moon was covered by thick clouds.

Footsteps echoed in the hall beyond his door. His muscles tensed. His mind stopped its frantic spinning and zoned in on the sound, the movement, the groan of metal as a key was slipped into the lock and turned. There were at least three sets of footsteps out there. Three people heading right toward him.

His training kicked in. He didn’t need a gun. His body was a lethal weapon, finely tuned by the DIA and highly destructive. The door pushed inward. Dim light from the corridor spilled into the space. He moved with stealth, grabbing the first guy, knocking his weapon free, then dragging him into the room and snapping his neck with swift movements. A shocked gasp echoed in the room, followed by rapid shuffling. He looked up just in time to see the guard behind Olivia grab her arm and haul her back, then reach for a weapon from the holster at his side.

Landon stepped over the dead man at his feet and grasped the second guard’s hand before he could draw his weapon. His fist plowed into the guard’s face. Olivia yelped and jerked free, stumbling into the room. Landon flung the weapon across the floor, whipped the other guard around, and wrapped his arm around the guard’s neck.

“Landon,” Olivia gasped. “Oh my God.”

He squeezed, cutting off the guard’s air. The guard’s hands flew to Landon’s arm, trying to pull it away. Landon placed one hand on the guard’s jaw, the other on the back of his head, and twisted, snapping the guard’s neck in jerky movements. His body landed at Landon’s feet.

No other sound echoed through the corridor. Landon checked the hall, then dragged both bodies farther into the room so they wouldn’t draw attention. Stepping over the closest, he located both weapons and checked the magazines. Both were full. He shoved one into the back waistband of his pants and set the other at his side while he tugged the boots off the first guard and shoved his bare feet inside.

Heavy, quick breaths brought his head up. He peered through the darkness toward Olivia, plastered against the far wall of the room, her eyes wide and alive with fear.

Don’t think about what they did to her. Just get her the hell out of here.

He pushed up. The boots were one size too small, but they’d work. For now. “Come on, we have to go now.”

She didn’t move a single muscle. Didn’t say anything. Just continued to stare at him and the carnage on the ground with eyes the size of saucers.

She was in shock. He’d seen it before. Didn’t have time to deal with it now. Stepping over the bodies, he reached for her arm, hauling her as gently as he could away from the wall. “Olivia. Focus. We have to leave.”

“Those men . . . You just . . .” She swallowed hard. “You
killed
them.”

The horror in her words cut to the very heart of him. This was a side of him he’d never wanted her to see. Tightening his grip around her elbow, he dragged her toward the hall. “Bad men, Olivia. Very bad. If I didn’t kill them, they’d have killed us.”

“But they . . . They were only bringing me back here. They didn’t do anything to me. They only asked me questions. They weren’t—”

He stopped and pulled her around so she could see his face in the moonlight spilling into the room. Her eyes grew even wider, and he knew he was scaring her, but he needed her to get it. Relief that they hadn’t hurt her yet trickled through his veins, but it was overridden by the fear of what they’d do next. “Look at the bruises on my face, Olivia. This isn’t a game. They might not have touched you yet, but they will. When they don’t get what they want, they’ll come for you and use you in any way they can to get at me. They’ll torture and rape you, and I’m not about to let that happen. I’ll kill as many of them as needed to get you out of here. Do you understand?”

Her gemlike eyes darted back and forth, searching his for truth, for answers to questions she couldn’t ask and he didn’t have time to answer. But behind that he saw the fear, and the horror at the realization he wasn’t the man she’d thought him to be. Something in his chest squeezed tight. Something he hadn’t even known was there.

He’d just lost her. Even though she’d never been his, somewhere deep inside he’d held on to the fact that maybe, someday, she could be. Now he knew that was nothing more than a dream.

Center yourself.

That’s what he did with every op. Zoned in on his training. Shut down all emotion. Locked away any vulnerability that could get them killed. Especially what he felt for her.

“Do you want to live, Olivia?” he asked in a quiet voice.

She didn’t answer. Her fear-filled eyes continued to search his. But slowly, she nodded.

“Then you need to do exactly as I say and stay with me. If you do, I promise you’ll live. Nod so I know you heard me.”

The muscles in her throat moved as she swallowed, and she nodded again, just the slightest jerk of her head, just enough to tell him she was still with him.

“Good girl. In a few minutes this will all be over.”

Olivia ducked down and followed Landon through the dim corridor as quietly as she could. Voices echoed in rooms around them, but no doors opened, and for that she was thankful.

Her upper arm itched where they’d stuck that needle into her skin, and she raked her fingernails over the spot, wondering—for the hundredth time—what they’d given her.

If it was truth serum, they hadn’t needed it. She didn’t know anything. Her mind raced back over the conversation with Chantal. It was possible the woman had been telling the truth—that she was working undercover for the French government—but then why the kidnapping? Why the injections? Why wouldn’t they just arrest Landon if they really thought he was plotting to kill some poor girl?

That was the one part of this she couldn’t wrap her mind around. Yes, she’d just seen him kill two men right in front of her with precision and stealth, and yes, she could totally buy into the fact he’d been highly trained—maybe even as an assassin. But to plan the murder of some young girl . . .

That didn’t fit with what she knew of him. Landon Miller was not the kind of guy who got off on hurting women and children. If he were, he would not have saved her life. He would have left her in that hospital in Seattle without a second look. He never would have held her and comforted her on that street outside Pike Place Market when she’d freaked out and had that panic attack.

Olivia slammed into Landon’s back, not even realizing he’d stopped. His heat seeped into her skin, and she caught her breath and tried to back away, but he wrapped an arm behind him, holding her still. “Quiet,” he whispered.

Her heart rate kicked up, and her skin grew hot as the memory of his mouth slanting over hers, of the way he’d backed her against that wall in his hotel room and all but devoured her whole filled her mind. Even after everything she’d seen in the last twenty-four hours, her body still came to life close to him like this, as if he had some magical switch to turn her on. Why, dear God, couldn’t she be attracted to a teacher or a salesman or a golf instructor? Why did it have to be him, here, now? She didn’t even know the man, and what she’d learned the last few hours had only pissed her off. So why was she still reacting to him like this?

“There are stairs that lead up,” he whispered, turning his head just enough so she could see the hard, strong line of his jaw and the tiny bump in the slope of his nose that told her he’d broken it more than once. “Stay here while I check it out.”

She nodded because she still couldn’t seem to get her voice to work. As he moved away, she slipped into the darkness at the bottom of the stairwell and waited. A chill spread over her skin, replacing the warmth of his body, and she shivered, rubbing her hands over her arms to stimulate blood flow. Her fingertips grazed that spot on her arm again, only now it wasn’t just itchy. It was sore.

Oh man. She couldn’t think about the drug they’d given her. She was just thankful it hadn’t knocked her out or immobilized her. Long minutes passed in silence. She looked up the dark stairwell but couldn’t see Landon.

The fine hairs along her nape stood straight. He wouldn’t have left her. She believed that in her gut. No matter who or what he was, he’d never done one thing to hurt her. At least so far.

A sound echoed down the corridor at her back. Olivia jerked in that direction and tried to peer through the darkness to see where it had come from. A hand landed on her shoulder. She lurched around and swung out, ready to fight if she had to.

“Sh,” Landon said. “Just me.”

Pulse racing, she pressed a hand against her chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry, I—”

The voices grew stronger. Landon lifted his head and peered past her. She watched his eyes harden, watched his jaw tighten, but she didn’t have time to ask what he saw. His arms closed around her, and he pulled her with him, beneath the metal staircase, into an even darker corner.

Fear lurched into her throat. Footsteps echoed closer, followed by voices and words shouted in French. Landon tuned them around, so his back was plastered to the wall and she was at his front, his eyes carefully searching the space beyond her. Boots hitting the metal stairs just above sounded through the hall, and Olivia gasped. Landon’s hand closed over her mouth, and his arm tightened around her back, dragging her even closer into the heat of his body.

“Easy,” he whispered, his warm breath fanning the skin near her ear. And his scent—citrus and pine—filled her senses, making every inch of her skin tingle. He was hard everywhere, his arm holding her tight around her back, his muscular chest pressing into hers, his massive thighs cradling her hips, even his—no, she had to be imagining that—his thickening cock pushing into the softness of her belly.

He couldn’t possibly be turned on right now. Not with everything that was happening. Not when they could be caught and killed at any minute. Besides, he wasn’t interested in a thin, weak schoolteacher who had to be freaking rescued all the time. He was interested in tough, kick-ass, sexy women, like Chantal.

He kissed you.

True. But she’d kissed him first. He’d obviously just been being nice because she’d surprised him.

He chased after you, not Chantal.

Maybe. But only because he’d felt guilty for being caught.

He told
you
the moment he opened that door and saw you, it was the happiest moment of his life.

Memories mixed with that little voice, messing with her head, screwing with her emotions. She couldn’t deny there was something between them—or at least there had been before all of this. But if he’d wanted her so much, why had he picked Chantal up in that bar? Why hadn’t he come to see her once in the last three months? She’d invited him—several times—and each time he’d had an excuse for why he couldn’t visit.

“I think they’re gone.”

Landon’s warm breath and whispered words pulled Olivia back from her frazzled thoughts. Slowly, he drew his hand away from her mouth and eased back a few inches. Olivia looked up, hoping to see something in his eyes that would confirm she was right and that the little voice didn’t know what the heck it was saying. But when her eyes met his, the air caught in her lungs, and her skin grew hot and tingly all over again. Because she didn’t see strategy in his eyes, or focus, or even determination that he’d get them out of this alive like he’d claimed. She saw desire burning in those dark pools. The same desire she suddenly felt.