Storming His Heart (8 page)

“I— I—”

“Exactly.” Rafe took two steps closer, kissed the breath out of her, then headed for the door.

“But how will you get home?” she asked, remembering he’d driven them in her car.
Filling you so much?
Heaven help her, but she wanted to start on that right now, which made no sense. Half the time, she wasn’t sure she
liked
Rafe.

He stared at her stiff nipples. “Hell. I really need to go before I do something stupid. I have my cell. I’ll call a cab. But don’t worry, I’ll call you tomorrow. I have no intention of telling your brother the truth. For some reason, I really like the idea of us dating, and that scares the crap out of me.” He shook his head and surprised her with a sly smile. “Bye, Storm. I’m afraid if I stay much longer, your uncle might show up. You might fabricate a marriage or something, then where would we be?”

She flushed. “It was the best I could come up with.”

“Right.” Rafe looked like he wanted to walk back and kiss her, but he didn’t.

She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

“Tomorrow.” He left without looking back.

A week later, Rafe checked his watch and decided to give Floyd ten more minutes. This was his last appointment for the day, and he intended to get it done as soon as possible. Wrapping up the Higgins case had taken more time and energy than he’d expected. He really needed to focus on more important matters. Like his first real date with Storm Buchanan.

He still wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing by perpetuating this nowhere relationship, but he couldn’t get the damned woman out of his mind. Just thinking about her turned him inside out.

“Hell.” He glared at his dick, which had a bad habit of rising whenever he thought about her.
Focus, Rafe. Focus.

Since the shooting last Monday, things had been quiet. J.D. and Jurek had done their best but could find nothing about the attempt made on Rafe’s life. Nor would there be anything anytime soon. Rafe had tried to see who had tried to kill him but had been unable to call forth a vision. He’d made enough enemies that he knew finding the culprit would be extremely difficult without the aid of his gift.

But at least Jurek had called off security. And now Rafe sat in his car waiting on an informant to finally tie up all the loose ends on Higgins. Floyd should have shown ten minutes ago. The longer Rafe waited, the more uneasy he felt.

As if thinking about him had conjured him, Floyd arrived. It was nearing seven, but the cloudy, dark sky made it feel much later. Minimal light shone on the deserted lot adjacent to the shipyard Floyd had chosen as their meet point. A nervous little man, Floyd didn’t want Higgins to know that he’d assisted in his downfall.

The nearest cover, an empty freight car, sat a hundred yards away. Rafe had already scouted the car and found it empty, so he focused his attention on the only logical attack point, the open drive leading into the fenced lot.

Floyd parked his car, exited and hurried into Rafe’s. “Sorry I’m late. Grabbed a quick bite to eat and got caught in a traffic accident. Forgot my cell or I’d have called you.”

A short, stocky man in his late forties, Floyd had a healthy appetite for life and food. He handed Rafe a bulky brown envelope.

“This everything?” Rafe asked.

“Yeah. That should put the bastard away for a long while.”

Rafe glanced at the sheaf of trader’s notes and fingered a memory stick before sliding everything back into the envelope. “If this info pans out, your deal is good. You’ll still have to testify, but we’ll stash you somewhere safe in the meantime.”

“Right. I’ve got to get out of here,” Floyd said nervously. He looked around before he left the car. Floyd reentered his vehicle just as another approached the lot.

Rafe opened the door and yelled, “Get the hell out of here and don’t stop for anything.” Floyd took off like a shot. He drove right through the chain link fence and sped away.

Rafe had two options—floor it and escape, or find out who the hell would be out this way on this particular night. He didn’t believe in coincidence. Rafe quickly got out of the car and kept it between him and the oncoming threat. He readied his gun, prepared to fire if need be. This new threat might be aimed at Floyd, and they couldn’t afford to blow the Higgins case. But the car didn’t even try to pursue Floyd. Rafe waited, his senses attuned to the danger. He kept low as shots rang out and swore when the car sagged. They’d shot out his tires.

He reached out with his mind, and in that space of an instant—
five men got out of the car, no weapons in sight. Their intent was to capture him. No one wanted to disappoint the boss. Succeed or be killed, and no question what they’d pick.

Rafe broke from the vision as the car finally stopped. He peeked above the hood and watched as five large men emerged from the nondescript vehicle. They seemed organized, had no distinguishing marks, wore dark clothing and little jewelry that he could see. They’d come for him, not Floyd. This had to be tied to his shooting and Storm’s hit and run. Maybe he’d finally get some answers.

One of the men spoke. “Rafe Savage, we need you to come with us. Our employer wants very much to see you again.” He was blond, tall and possibly the most dangerous of the bunch. He stood with a predatory stillness, his brown eyes alert in his expressionless face.

Rafe stood and raised his weapon, gauging the reactions of the group. None of the men with the blond flinched. Interesting. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m also to let you know that the minute you fire that weapon, Storm Buchanan will pay the price.”

Rafe didn’t react. But fear blossomed inside him. “Who?”

“The woman you intend to meet tonight at the Olde Pink House. We have men in place to take her the minute you don’t cooperate. Drop the gun.”

How the hell did they know about his date? He’d arranged it from work on a secure phone. Had they tapped Storm’s line, maybe? Shit. This didn’t look good.

Rafe laid the gun down on the hood of his car and stepped around it. From what he could tell, none of his opponents held a weapon. Between that and their orders to take him in unhurt, he might just be able to mow through these assholes and contact Storm right away.

He stopped a few feet from the blond. “Who’s your employer? Why didn’t he simply ask me to meet him?”

The man shook his head while the other four moved slowly to fan around them. “Our employer is a busy man. He’d rather we bring you to him.” The blond moved closer, almost within striking distance. “Let’s not make this any harder than it has to be.” He tried to grab Rafe. To the bastard’s surprise, Rafe threw him over his shoulder and caught the next closest man, taking him down as well.

The others rushed Rafe as one. He struck one’s neck and punched another in the solar plexus, eliminating two of his opponents. The fifth man kicked his ribs and punched him in the face in lightning quick moves. Pain burst in Rafe’s jaw as he defended himself from a series of well-placed blows. The blond rejoined the assault with the two remaining men and knocked him to the ground. One grabbed for Rafe’s ankles while another tried to shove a syringe in his arm. The blond yanked his head back by the hair.

“Hit him in the neck, Dickens.”

Rafe bucked and kicked the man holding his legs in the face hard enough to put him out of commission. He grabbed the syringe and managed to stab the blond with it. Then he tackled his last standing opponent. After suffering a few more blows to his ribs, he choked the man unconscious. When Rafe was able, he stood on shaky legs and hurried to his cell phone after retrieving his gun.

He called Storm, who answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Rafe? You don’t sound so good. What’s wrong?”

“Where are you?” he repeated.

“Don’t get huffy. I’m just getting ready to leave the house.”

“Don’t. Call your brothers and sit tight.” He rubbed his side, annoyed to feel the bruises starting to throb.

“Rafe? What’s wrong?” The worry in her voice soothed some weird part of him, because he liked that she was concerned.

“I’ll explain it to you when I can. But I think you might be in danger. Don’t leave the house, and lock your doors. I’ll come as soon as I can.”

He hung up and called Westlake. Assured a team was on the way, he then contacted Jurek specifically. Before he hung up, dull thuds impacted, shaking the bodies of the groaning men lying in the dirt.

Rafe dropped to the ground in seconds. He scooted under the car, but by then the shots had ceased.

Rafe called on his prognostication and watched as he, Jurek and a dozen agents in the yard surrounded five dead men. Frustrated, he slowly stood, favoring his right side, and looked around. Nothing but more questions with no answers. And worse, his date with Storm was shot all to hell.

Chapter Six

Storm shifted on her belly in bed, restless. She glared at her alarm clock. One in the morning, and still no further word from Rafe. Luc had taken her spare bedroom while Max and Thorne took care of some project they couldn’t get away from. After speaking with her, Rafe had called his boss, who in turn had called Max. She knew from her uncle that Rafe was alive and well. It would have been nice if Rafe had called
her
to explain things. She wanted to know what the hell had happened.

So much for her big date and the little black dress she’d purchased.

She sighed and decided to make a cup of tea. Maybe that would help calm her nerves. She rolled onto her back then froze. Two shadows leaned over her bed. One stuck the muzzle of a pistol in her belly.

“Don’t move, and don’t make a sound.”

Both intruders appeared male, and both were covered in black from head to toe. She tried to see their features but couldn’t due to the darkness of her room. The taller one on the right reached with a gloved hand and yanked the covers off her. Because Luc had spent the night, she wore her more prim pajamas, a cotton shirt and pant set.

She tensed even more at the thought of her brother. What had they done to him? Did they know he was in the house?

“Watch her,” the taller one ordered as he tucked his gun behind him. His companion nodded and stepped to the side, his gun still poking her stomach.

“Your boyfriend is out cold. He’ll wake with a headache. Unless you want a bullet in his brain, no sudden moves.”

“No moves. Okay.”

The shorter man stepped back and the taller one pulled her off the bed to her feet.

Storm’s mind raced. She needed to do something before they took away her hands. At least now she was in a much less vulnerable position.

“Wait!” she whispered and put her hands up to wave the large man back. “What are you doing here? Who are you? What’s going on?”

“All in good time, sweetheart,” the shorter man holding the pistol promised. “We’re not here to chit-chat. You come with us and you’ll get your answers soon enough.”

“Whatever you say. Just don’t hurt me or my brother.” She wished she could look into their eyes, but she’d make do. Relying on the persuasive tone of her voice, she spoke softly, “I really think you should step back a little.” She imagined the taller guy blocking the gun’s line of sight.

The taller male stopped reaching for her and moved to his left, effectively blocking the gun.

Storm pushed him into his partner and ran for the door. A shot rang out behind her, effectively halting her attempt at escape.

“Nice try, angel. Now I’m starting to get pissed.” The smaller of the two shoved his partner out of the way.

“Don’t, you idiot! He wants her alive. If you kill her, we’re as good as dead.”

They argued while she hurried into the living room. She kept a gun in a hidden panel by the fireplace. She just had to reach it.

The intruders followed. They could easily overpower her. She needed a distraction. Just then, the phone rang. They automatically glanced at it, giving her the time she needed to swing around the couch.

“We have to grab her and get the hell out of here,” the tall one insisted, his voice growing louder as he neared.

Just as she reached the fireplace, he grabbed her by the waist and tackled her to the ground. As they struggled, the phone stopped ringing. The overhead light came on. She quickly found herself blindfolded while the large man held her down. She resisted, but he wouldn’t be budged.

“What a hellcat. No wonder he wants her unharmed. Look at that bod.”

In the struggle, her shirt had ridden up under her breasts. She tensed when she felt a bare hand over her midriff. The bastard had taken off his glove to touch her? Panic made a muck of her resolve to remain in control.

“Yeah, this one’s a keeper. No wonder he’s paying top dollar for her unharmed.” His hand crept higher and squeezed her breast.

“Storm!”

Everyone froze.

Luc’s voice grew louder as he shouted for her through the spare bedroom door.

The threat of rape didn’t match the fear of what they’d do to her brother. She was a Buchanan. She’d be damned if she’d let some thugs harm her or her family.

“Come on, baby. Let me up and we’ll play.” She exerted a tremendous amount of effort to get through to the man on top of her. The skin-to-skin contact helped.

When he removed his hand and started to stand, she kicked him between his legs. She heard the shorter man swear and ripped the blindfold from her eyes as he reached her.

“Give me the gun, handsome.” She magnified her rage and fear into a command he couldn’t deny, despite his struggles. His nose bled while he mentally fought, and tears appeared in his eyes.

“S-s-sure th-th-thing.” He released the gun just as her front door flew open.

Thorne raced inside with her uncle on his heels. At that moment, the bedroom door crashed open and Luc fell into the hallway.

But with her attention diverted, the men who’d tried to kidnap her raced past Luc down the hallway to the laundry room and back door. That they even knew where to go scared her, since her back door wasn’t off the kitchen, the way so many houses in the neighborhood had been designed.