Master No (2 page)

“They’re sleeping right now, but in an hour or two, they’ll be ready for another round. You don’t look like you’re ready, lover,” she said in a low voice.

He watched, those fuck-me shoes coming ever closer. Just a little bit more.

“Won’t break,” he said, slurring his words only a bit more than he actually needed to. He was kind of far-gone. The meditation techniques he used only kept the pain and suffering away for so long, and he needed to be in the moment now. She was overly confident that he couldn’t do any damage.

He was going to prove her wrong.

“Damn, your body was already scarred. Now you’re pretty much one massive scar. It’s unattractive, you know. You’re quite good in bed, but I had to close my eyes and pretend you’re not a monster. You’re ruined. I honestly don’t know how anyone looks at you after this. At least they’ve left your face alone.”

She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t know. He was scarred, his body bearing the marks of long years of abuse, neglect, and accidents. Now he had burns from electricity torture and that damn poker they’d put through his side. That would be a beauty if he managed to survive it.

“All you have to do is give my group the information they need and this will all be over, Tennessee.” She’d softened her voice, and he felt her hand on his back.

He tensed but didn’t move. He couldn’t do anything but hurt her in this position. He wouldn’t mind hurting her, but breaking a couple of bones wouldn’t solve his problem. Physics. He needed height and momentum to get out of this situation, and he couldn’t get it where he was.

She needed to feel safe around him. Needed to forget that a wounded predator was often at his most dangerous right before death.

He let out a shuddering breath and allowed his head to fall back.

She chuckled and traced the new scars. “Poor Ten. All you needed was a little affection from a woman and you caved. I was told you were the hardass, the mighty Ten Smith, Agency golden boy. A few kind words, some regular sex, and you’re a man like the rest of them. Tell me something. Where is your meet with Taggart scheduled for?”

Shit. She was after Ian Taggart. Well, naturally. Tag was one of his latest recruits, a man who was already a damn legend due to his years with the Green Berets. Tag was working another side of this operation and they were scheduled to meet…how long had he been here? God, he couldn’t remember but it couldn’t be more than a night. So he was supposed to meet Tag this morning in a teashop on the edge of Riyadh.

“I’m not meeting Tag for a few days,” he managed.

He bit back a scream as she pushed a finger against one of the wounds on his back.

“That’s a lie, Ten. I know you’re supposed to meet him some time in the next few hours. We’re not far from our apartment. You wouldn’t have scheduled a meet more than thirty minutes away. I’ve learned all your habits.”

He’d kept the meetings close because he hadn’t wanted to leave her for long. They were in a dangerous situation and she was his partner, his lover. He wouldn’t call it love. He didn’t get that dumbass grin on his face the way Jamie did, but he was fairly certain he wasn’t capable of the emotion. But Dawn had been his to take care of, and that meant something to him. Or rather it had. “Tag couldn’t make it this morning. He’s got a meeting with a man who can lead us to an arms dealer. I told him to take it.”

How long would Tag wait before he called it in? Tag was smart. He was probably the best operative Ten had ever trained. He would still likely be too late. Even if Tag called Jamie and Jamie started looking for him, there was no way they found him. The first thing Dawn had done was to remove the subcutaneous tracking devices they had both accepted. A surgeon had removed hers. She’d simply torn his back open with a knife to get his. Another scar.

No. Taggart would be too late no matter how good he was. It would take him days to get the kind of crew they would need to track and find him.

If the Agency came after him at all. More than likely they would put his name on the wall and forget Tennessee Smith ever existed. He would be one more cautionary tale told to junior operatives. Jamie would take over Ten’s post and the world would keep right on turning.

If he was going to live, it was up to him. He was alone, but then he’d always been alone.

“Should I tell you what they’re planning for you today?” Dawn asked.

“Nope. I like surprises.” She was moving behind him. He was hyperaware, as though time was slowing and he was waiting for that one perfect moment.

“Such a liar.” Her shoes thudded against the concrete. She came into his peripheral vision. Thank god he still had that. At one point his vision had been so fuzzy he would have sworn it wasn’t coming back. Now the adrenaline was pumping again and he was clear. “Let me make this plain to you. I don’t get paid if you don’t give these assholes something to work with. Give them Taggart. He’s gotten too close to their base of operations. These are men who don’t like their ties to terrorism to be published. They like the dark. If you give them Taggart, I think I might be able to save you.”

He was the liar?

“How much?” He had to get her in the exact right position. Everything had to be perfect or he would miss the chance. God, could he even make his body move the way he needed it to?

She stopped in front of him. Not close enough. “How much? How much are they paying me? More than the Agency did. Way more. There’s a whole world out there, Tennessee. Countries are so blasé. I like to consider myself an independent woman. You know, it wasn’t so bad. Like I said, you’re good in bed.”

He’d spent more time in Dawn’s bed than any other woman. He tended to keep his relationships shallow, sexual. He forced his head up and looked at her. Beautiful. She was a stunning woman with a slender figure and nice breasts. Platinum blonde hair curled around her jawline, and he’d never seen her without perfectly done makeup. He’d thought she did it all for him, but now he could easily see it was nothing but a mask. There was nothing underneath it but greed and vanity. He hadn’t loved her. He’d simply wanted what Jamie and Phoebe had. He’d been willing to lie to himself to get it.

Her shoe tapped against the floor, an impatient sound. “Tennessee, they’re going to start in on your teeth this morning. They’ll pull them out one by one. You don’t want that. Give me what I need to satisfy them. I can introduce you to people. A man like you can make a lot of money on the open market. Hey, we could actually be a force as independent contractors. There aren’t a lot of couples working.”

It was all a lie, but a useful one. She still thought she could get to him, still believed her feminine wiles would work on him. “Kiss me.”

The thought made his stomach churn, but it would get her where he needed her.

“Kiss you?” Her dark eyes widened.

“Kiss me and I’ll tell you where Tag is. I never liked that asshole anyway.” Tag was likely gone. He would be smart. He would disappear, figuring the op was blown. Still, even knowing Tag was safe, he wasn’t giving this bitch anything. Not a goddamn thing.

Well, except one final gift.

Her lips curled up in a satisfied smirk. He had her. She stepped forward. “I suppose I can do that.”

The minute she was close, he swung his legs back and up. Pain screamed though his body, but he did what he needed to do. He forced his legs around her throat, the strength of his thighs drawing her in.

“What!” She screamed, but it was a muffled sound.

Ten couldn’t help but laugh because that sound was totally muffled by his dick, which was happily covered with heavy denim. They hadn’t gotten to the ball torture he was certain would have been on the menu today. Those jeans protected him from what he was sure was a sharp set of teeth.

“You never were any good at oral, babe.”

She squirmed and tried to force him off, pushing up with her hands. Exactly what he needed. He jerked his cuffed hands up and over the hook and they went tumbling down. He groaned as his body hit the concrete, but he tightened his ankles. They were both down now. If he allowed her to get up, she would go for one of the guns. The only reason she hadn’t been carrying was likely his seeming helplessness.

His arms would barely move, his body overtaken with pain, and she was fighting in earnest now. It was an instinct, really. His arms wouldn’t work, but he could swing his torso. If he let her go, she would alert the others and then he was done. He would either get away or end this one way or another. He wasn’t getting back on the hook. He tightened his thighs to hold her in place and threw his torso as far as he could to the left.

There was a horrible crunching sound and she went still.

So much for love and marriage.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He couldn’t think about this now. He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t do anything but survive this. His body shook as he tried to get up. Nope. Still wasn’t working. He was a little afraid he was going into shock.

Couldn’t wait. Had to move. There was at least one gun on the desk. He’d watched the last guy drop it there, as though teasing Ten with it. Just out of reach, too far away. No salvation for you, asshole.

He caught sight of Dawn, her eyes staring up. Not a hint of light behind them.

God, he was going to throw up.

The door opened and Ten groaned.

Too weak. Too fucking weak and he hadn’t even gotten a weapon. He looked around. The concrete was stained with his blood, but there was absolutely nothing he could use to end his own misery. He had no way to eliminate the possibility that Dawn had been right and he would break. He couldn’t break. If he did one decent thing in his miserable, pathetic life it would be to go out of it without giving up his operatives, his country.

He’d failed even at that.

“Thought I’d find you here,” a familiar voice said. “Damn, I kind of hoped you’d both been taken. Guess the princess was a double.”

With shaking hands, Ten forced himself up. His arms felt like noodles, but the fact that he was no longer alone gave him a weird strength. Ian Taggart was standing in the torture chamber, a P90 across his chest and blood on the T-shirt he was wearing. He was massive and solid, and none of that muscle would protect him.

“We have to go…” No. That was wrong. It was all fucking wrong and he had to do the honorable thing. “You have to go. Leave me a gun and get the fuck out of here, Tag. There are at least four men in this place and they don’t play. I can’t walk. You have to leave me.”

Tag snorted, a thoroughly arrogant sound. “There were seven and now there are none. Nasty bastards. They were supposed to be all about religion and shit, but they had a ton of cheap-ass Scotch up there. I guess now they know about the evils of alcohol. You look like shit, Ten.”

They were dead? Tag had killed them all? “I could kiss you, you know.”

“That’s what all the girls say,” Tag replied. He sighed. “This is probably going to hurt, buddy, but we should really leave before reinforcements get here.”

Tag leaned over and he was so fucking right. It hurt like hell to have a six and a half foot monster of a man throw him over his shoulder. Ten damn near blacked out. He forced himself to stay conscious. “How did you find me?”

“Didn’t. Found her. I put a tracker on that bag you bought her. She was suspicious.”

“Do I want to know what she did to make you suspicious?”

“You do not, brother. But let’s talk about paying me back. How about an assignment that doesn’t involve the shit end of the planet?”

So she’d probably come on to Tag, likely offered herself to him at some point. While he’d been planning a future, she’d been trying to fuck his friends. Still, the sight of her dead body sent him reeling. He had to force himself not to scream out. He hadn’t loved her, but she’d represented a future—something he would never have.

“I promise.” He forced the words out of his mouth as Tag walked through the house toward the door. “The next time something in Europe comes up, you’re my man.”

“Cool,” Tag said. “Tell you what, how about you send me to Paris at some point and we’ll call it even. I’ve heard good things about this club there.”

Tag and his clubs. Tag still had some expectation of finding a woman. Oh, he wouldn’t call her a wife. He would call her a sub, but it was all the same really. Tag thought there was a woman out there who could handle his darkness, who could bring him into the light.

Ten had finally let go of that daydream. It had never been for him and he would remember that fact from now on. All it got him was death and betrayal. Love was for the Jamies and Phoebes of the world.

As Tag carried him out into the light of day, he finally let go and unconsciousness claimed him.

CHAPTER ONE

Outside of Monrovia, Liberia

West Africa

Present Day

Faith McDonald turned her face up to the sun and breathed in long and deep. It felt like she hadn’t taken a deep breath in the last six months, hadn’t taken time to acknowledge something as small as the warmth of a lovely day because her world seemed so very filled with death.