Midnight Rescue: A Killer Instincts Novel (15 page)

Morgan stiffened. “I wouldn’t have told Kane to contact Trev if I didn’t think he could do this job. If anything, I think it will be good for him. He needs a reason to live again, and this rescue might be just the thing to snap him out of his funk.”

“He’s got a death wish,” Isabel said flatly.

Morgan looked alarmed. “No, I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“It is. Yesterday I tried to go over security precautions with him and he totally brushed me off. He said we’d wing it.” Her voice dripped with disbelief. “The lives of thirteen young girls are in our hands and he wants to wing it?”

Morgan sighed. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Your man wants to die,” Isabel announced, blunt as always. “And if you don’t talk some sense into him, he’s going to compromise this entire operation.”

Morgan slid off the stool, his features hardening. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Okay,” she said, unenthusiastically.

With a nod, he marched out of the kitchen, leaving Isabel alone with her thoughts.

She knew Abby trusted Morgan—so did Noelle, seeing as she’d gone to him for help—but Isabel wasn’t so sure about the man. Supposedly he was good at his job. Whatever the mission, he was rumored to be deadly but professional, and according to Noelle, when it came to rescues, Morgan and his men almost always managed to bring their target home alive. Apparently several government agencies employed Morgan’s services more often than they’d admit, most likely because a civilian unit consisting of soldiers for hire could gain access to plenty of places and people that would otherwise be impossible to penetrate using proper government channels. Morgan’s men were some of the world’s top mercenaries, and they were obviously doing well, judging by the size of this compound.

Still, she’d never worked with Morgan before, and so far she wasn’t too impressed. Mostly because she had a feeling that Trevor Callaghan could very well get her killed.

Picking up her mug, Isabel left the kitchen in search of Abby. In the hallway, she ran into Luke Dubois, the dark-haired Cajun who totally wanted to get in her pants. His trusty dog was at his side, letting out a whine when he spotted Isabel.

“Hey there, sharpshooter,” Luke drawled, his eyes lighting up. “You lost?”

“Just trying to find Abby,” she answered, resisting a grin as she bent down to pat the dog.

The man really was a charmer. Too bad she was so over that type. His confidence was sexy, sure, but confidence typically went hand in hand with arrogance, and she could see that in him too. Oh, he was definitely Mr. Cocky, a man who believed all he had to do was snap his fingers and a woman would rip off her clothes and hop into bed with him. It probably worked most of the time.

“She’s upstairs,” he said helpfully. “I heard her laying into Kane just now.”

“They’re arguing?”

“Sounds like it.” Luke raked one hand through his hair. “Why don’t you go up and play peacemaker? And when you’re done, you can meet me in the courtyard.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “And why would I do that?”

“To show off those shooting skills of yours, darlin’. D and I are going to do some target practice.”

She was tempted to say no, but it did sound kind of fun. She hadn’t gotten to the shooting range in a few
months, having little opportunity while stuck in Paris following a man who liked trashy strippers. Fortunately, Noelle had taken over that assignment in order for Isabel to come here. She had no clue why Noelle simply hadn’t helped Abby herself, but she suspected it had something to do with her boss’s loathing of Jim Morgan. Noelle might trust the man, but it was evident she didn’t like him.

“So what do you say?” Luke pressed, flashing another grin.

“What the hell?” she said, relenting. “I’ll be down in ten.”

They parted ways and Isabel climbed the enormous staircase to the second floor. Angry voices immediately greeted her on the landing. Huh. So Luke had been right.

When she reached Abby’s door, she found the redhead facing off with Kane, who stood in front of her with his arms tightly crossed over his massive chest.

“Argue all you want,” he grumbled. “But you’re sidelined, sweetheart. Tough fucking luck.”

“
Don’t
call me sweetheart,” Abby snapped, her blue eyes sizzling with anger. “This is
my
rescue. I asked for your help, damn it, not for you to completely take it over and—”

“What’s going on?” Isabel interrupted quietly.

Abby’s anger became relief when she laid eyes on Isabel. “Thank God you’re here. I need you to tell him he’s making a big mistake.”

She entered the room, warily glancing from Abby to Kane. “Seriously, what’s up?”

“He”
—Abby hooked her thumb at Kane—“has decided to sideline me for the rescue.”

Kane shot Isabel a help-me-out-here look. “Because
she
isn’t up to it. She’s got four bruised ribs and a broken wrist. She’s a liability.”

It was the same word she’d used to describe Trevor, and Isabel knew Kane’s point was as valid as hers. She examined Abby’s rainbow-colored face, then glanced down at the Ace bandage covering the redhead’s wrist.

Abby noticed where Isabel’s gaze landed and made a frustrated sound. “I can breathe through the pain,” she insisted, sounding surprisingly desperate.

Isabel faltered. It was so rare, seeing Abby drop that cold, aloof facade of hers. But as hard as it was to say it, Isabel had to agree with Kane. “You’re hurt, Abs. What if you tangle with a guard and he hits you in the ribs? Or yanks on your wrist?” Isabel sighed. “You’d pass out like a light. We can’t risk that.”

Disbelief radiated from Abby’s features. “I have to be there when you rescue the girls. I have to, Izzy.”

A sigh lodged in her chest. She exchanged a look with Kane, whose green eyes told her exactly what he thought. “Then you can stay in the chopper,” Isabel decided. “That way you’ll be there when we bring the girls out.”

Abby swore loudly. “This is ridiculous. You know my skills should be put to better use than sitting around in a helicopter.” She stalked toward the door. “I’m going to talk to Jim about this. I’m sure he’ll agree with me.”

As Abby stormed out of the room, Isabel turned to Kane with a rueful smile. “She can be a handful. A really stubborn handful.”

He let out a heavy breath. “Do you think I’m being unfair?”

“No. We both know she’s not in any physical condition to be part of an extraction team. Abby knows it too. It’ll just take her a while to admit it.”

Kane laughed. “You have too much faith in her. I don’t think she’s capable of admitting she’s wrong.”

The note of tenderness in his gruff voice came as a bit of a surprise. Isabel looked at him with sharp eyes. “You like her,” she said slowly.

“What? No.” He seemed embarrassed. “I do respect her, though.”

“And you also like her.” A smile filled her face. “That’s good. Abby needs someone like you in her life.”

“I’m not in her life,” he objected, sounding uncomfortable. “A set of circumstances may have thrown us together, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to become best friends.”

“How about lovers?” She couldn’t help teasing him.

His discomfort deepened. “Shouldn’t you be going over details with Trev? You know, perfecting your cover stories or something?”

With a grin, Isabel headed for the doorway. “Message received. I’ll stop prying into your business. If you need me, I’ll be with Luke doing some target practice.”

She left Kane in Abby’s room, wondering if he would go after Abby and try to talk some sense into her. Probably. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he had a thing for Abby. He might not want to admit it, but Isabel noticed the way his face softened when he tried to convince Abby she was too hurt to go out in the field. He seemed to genuinely care, and Isabel was touched by that.

It was very difficult caring for someone like Abby Sinclair. Hell, it had taken years for Isabel to form this tentative friendship, and even now Abby refused to fully open herself up. She shied away from affection. From any sort of human contact.

Isabel found it incredibly sad, but she also understood why the other woman acted the way she did. Life had thrown a lot of heartache at Abby, much more than Isabel had ever experienced. But Isabel suspected the damage that had been inflicted on her friend wasn’t irreparable. Abby might be broken, but she could be fixed.

It was almost midnight when Abby gave up on sleep and slid out of bed. Shadows danced in the bedroom, and a sultry breeze was drifting in from the open window. She’d hoped the humid Mexican air might lull her to sleep, but it had only succeeded in making her hot and uncomfortable. Scratch that—Kane was the reason she was hot and uncomfortable.

He was also the reason she was pissed off.

She couldn’t believe he was sidelining her on a rescue that had been
her
idea. And Morgan had actually backed him up! A liability, her ass. She’d pulled off successful assignments in worse condition than she was in now. But there was no budging Morgan or Kane. The two men were as stubborn as mules. They refused to let her be part of the extraction team and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

Sighing, she walked on bare feet toward the door. Her thin tank top and little cotton shorts stuck to her body. All that tossing and turning had given her a workout. A glass of milk might help her fall asleep, and if that failed, a shot of whiskey might do the trick.

The kitchen was dark, so when she heard Kane’s voice she nearly fell over.

“Can’t sleep?”

She let her eyes adjust to the darkness, frowning when she saw him on one of the stools by the counter. He had a bottle of bourbon in front of him, along with a half-finished glass.

“I just needed something to drink,” she responded coldly, then walked over to the fridge.

She poured herself a cup of milk, sipping slowly, silently.

“Listen,” he said in a rough voice, “I know you’re pissed at me, but we both know I’m making the right call. You’re in no shape to be part of the rescue.”

“According to you.”

“And Morgan. And Isabel, who happens to know you well.” He slid off the stool.

Her heart did an involuntary jump. He was bare-chested, and the muscles of his abdomen rippled as he moved toward her. He wore gray sweatpants that hung low on his trim hips, drawing her gaze to the line of hair tapering down to his waistband.

“You can be angry,” he continued, “but at least have the guts to admit I’m right.”

“I won’t admit to something I disagree with.” The haughty pitch to her voice made her want to cringe. Jeez, she sounded like a spoiled teenager.

He must have agreed, because he offered a dry smile. “You’re too damn stubborn—you know that?”

“Whatever you say.”

He came up beside her and leaned against the sink. Their bare arms were inches from touching. Abby breathed deeply, only to inhale the spicy, masculine scent
that Kane radiated. Her pulse accelerated, each loud thump of her heart bringing little sparks of irritation. For God’s sake, what was happening to her? She didn’t like it, whatever it was. Kane had been right earlier, when he’d accused her of needing to stay in control. She liked control. She
needed
control. It was the only reason she’d stayed alive all these years.

So why did the impenetrable shield she’d constructed around herself years ago seem to drop whenever Kane was around?

“Look, I get it. You’re mad.” His voice grew soft. “And I know you probably don’t like sitting around while everyone else is getting all the action. It happened to me when Morgan forced a vacation down my throat a few months ago. The team did an extraction in Europe, and I was lying in a hotel room, pissed off and strategizing missions in my head.”

“Poor Kane,” she muttered.

He sighed. “Quit being a brat.” Before she could blink, he’d swiped her glass from her hands and placed it in the sink. “A glass of milk isn’t gonna put you to bed. Come on, follow me.”

“No way—”

His hand was on her arm before she could object further. He pretty much dragged her out of the kitchen, leading her down the dark hallway toward the back of the house. Abby shrugged his arm off as they walked, but she kept following, now intrigued by his sudden burst of energy.

They reached a wide doorway. Kane stepped inside and flicked on the light, revealing an enormous space that housed both workout equipment and a small gymnasium. The gym featured a basketball hoop and a heap
of blue mats piled against the wall. He strode toward the stack, grabbed a couple of mats, and laid them on the floor.

“Know what always puts me to sleep?” he said. “Physical activity. Gets you nice and tired.”

She shot him a pointed look. “I’m not having sex with you.”

“I was referring to working out, Abby. You sure do have a one-track mind.” He grinned, his straight white teeth glimmering in the fluorescent lighting. There was something very predatory about that smile. Predatory and sexy as hell.

She forced herself to look away. “I’m not in the mood to lift weights.”

“Who said anything about weights?”

His green eyes glinted devilishly as he walked over and grabbed hold of her arm again. She squeaked when he dragged her toward the mats he’d set up, his big, hard body inches from hers. “Hit me,” he said in a lazy voice.

Her eyebrows soared north. “Pardon me?”

“Come on, Abby. Hit me. You know you want to. Expend some energy.” He shot her an inviting smile. “I make a good sparring partner.”

She started to laugh. “You want to
spar
? Hit me? What is this,
Fight Club
?”

“Trust me, the exercise will knock you right out.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “That is, if I don’t knock you out first.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“I’ll avoid your wrist and ribs if you stay away from my face.” He grinned again. “I can’t have you marring my pretty features. I know you’re capable of inflicting a lot of damage.”

Warmth trickled through her at the confidence he seemed to possess in her skills. She appreciated that he didn’t treat her like a fragile female who couldn’t hold her own against a big man like him, but still, that didn’t mean she was going to indulge him.