Carlos slowly lifted his lips from hers, paused, and touched her lips once more briefly, then peeled her off him.
When he moved her to his side, he kept his arm protectively around her shoulders.
She worked to keep her knees from buckling.
Carlos tightened his grasp on her shoulders, which she took as a silent message to hang on and pull herself together.
She reached around his waist and squeezed to let him know she had it together.
One side of his mouth curved up, acknowledging her message. “Let her go,” Carlos repeated. “She won’t say a word.”
Turga stepped close to Carlos and smiled, the white teeth glowing against his dark face. “Don’t think so. You cost me good man. Eye for an eye, and all that.”
“Don’t tell me you actually care about losing someone.”
Turga’s grin widened. “Very funny. No, but he was better shot than that one.” He tilted his head at the other guy holding the grenade launcher.
“Unavoidable casualty.” Carlos smiled sarcastically.
Turga flipped his rifle quickly and used the stock like a club to ram Carlos in the stomach.
He broke away from Gabrielle, bent double with a pained grunt, then sucked a breath and straightened.
She reached for him and Turga grabbed her.
Carlos snarled and moved so fast Gabrielle had no idea how he’d jerked her away from Turga and pushed her behind him.
Turga flipped the rifle up in just as quick a motion, which ended with the tip of the barrel an inch from Carlos’s nose.
“Should kill you right now, but only a careless man wastes a resource without first bleeding it dry. One wrong move and I wound her. Start walking.” Turga motioned toward the helicopter with his rifle.
She let Carlos take her backpack, but Gabrielle wasn’t handing her laptop over to anyone as long as she had a choice. Carlos walked them both ahead of Turga and kept a snug grip on her arm. When they reached the edge of the woods, an explosion rocked the ground.
She swung around to see flames bloom from where her Jeep had been and the second guy running toward them.
Guess that was a grenade launcher he toted.
Sirens wailed from the highway, growing louder.
Gabrielle stumbled on the rutted ground next to the helicopter, and Carlos caught her at the waist. He lifted her inside the craft, then climbed in, settling next to her on the backseat.
Turga pushed the dead body in at their feet.
She drew back in revulsion.
Carlos leaned close. “Look out the window and breathe through your mouth.”
Turga shoved his rifle out of the way and turned a handgun on them that looked like the one Carlos had carried. Turga’s partner climbed into the pilot’s seat and started the motor.
Two police cruisers and a fire truck raced along the highway, then the lead car skidded into a turn as the helicopter blades hit full spin and caught air.
One cruiser cut through the now open gate, bouncing toward them.
The jet helicopter lifted with a lurch, flying barely over the top of the cruiser, then picking up altitude as they swung in a wide arc and flew over the woods where smoke rose from Gabrielle’s poor Jeep.
An arm circled her shoulders.
She turned to ask Carlos where he thought they were going, but her teeth were chattering so hard she was afraid she’d bite her tongue if she spoke. Shock had set in and cold clothes weren’t helping. Her whole body vibrated.
Carlos was warm, though. Why wasn’t he cold?
Who cared? She soaked up heat and comfort from his imposing body.
Gabrielle couldn’t believe she’d been so na?ve as to think Durand Anguis was her biggest threat.
Warm breath brushed along the skin of her neck when Carlos leaned his face near her ear and spoke. “Just do what they say. I’ll figure a way out of this.” He rubbed the hand on her shoulder up and down her arm, then brushed a lock of hair off her face with a finger.
Her brain stumbled at the endearing action. How was she supposed to interpret his moves?
“So who is she, Carlos?” Turga raised his voice over the roar of the motor.
“I told you.” Carlos cupped her face and kissed her gently again. Had that been to soothe her or convince their kidnapper? Lifting his gaze to Turga, Carlos pulled her close, possessively. “Just been dating.”
Emotions scurried to find a home, but she couldn’t sort through the rash of reactions his touch and kiss provoked.
Carlos was trying to divert their attention from her so the least she could do for now was play along with his charade. She slipped an arm around his waist and hugged against his chest, her gaze jumping to catch their kidnapper’s assessment.
Turga made no sound or action to indicate his thoughts.
Moving his free hand to the arm she’d wrapped across his chest, Carlos rubbed up and down slowly then kissed her hair.
She was in over her head in this deadly game, but playing along with a man who looked like Carlos was no hardship. She’d sworn off hot men for relationships, which hadn’t been difficult since her lifestyle made dating unrealistic. Pretending with Carlos was safe. But marrying a male icon ten years ago who was just last year listed as one of the world’s top fifty most desirable men had been emotional suicide.
To-die-for faces and ripped bodies hadn’t appealed to her since divorcing that jerk Roberto.
But she did feel an odd pull toward Carlos that she could only attribute to the situation she was in. His very presence screamed strength and confidence.
Now that was attractive and tempting.
She believed he just might get them out of this.
Indecision camped out in Turga’s gaze. “You don’t keep women for more than one night.”
“Got comfortable.” Carlos leaned down and kissed her cheek, so tenderly her insides turned mushy. His arms tightened around her and her heart skipped a beat. She’d never felt protected or cared for. Not the way she did at this minute.
Even though Carlos was pretending, he was doing a better job than her miserable ex-husband had on their wedding night.
But Carlos was not with law enforcement.
Like that really mattered right now given their dire situation?
“We shall see.” Turga didn’t say another word until they landed fifteen minutes later in the parking lot at the rear of a building with a FOR LEASE sign on several doors. The pilot left the rotors spinning slowly and climbed out.
Turga jumped down from his seat, his rifle slung over his shoulder and the handgun pointed at her. This whole scene was too bizarre to comprehend. Guns, grenade launchers, jet helicopters. Deaths.
She couldn’t think about that and function.
Gabrielle waited on Carlos to climb down first, then he turned to help her. When he lowered her to the ground in front of him, he pulled her into a quick hug and whispered, “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Rather than risk losing a grip on her emotions, she nodded. She didn’t know this man, didn’t know why he had come for her or whom he worked with, but he was diverting all danger from her.
“Enough. Walk,” Turga ordered.
As they backed away from the helicopter, the pilot peeled black vinyl off the tail section that had covered the aircraft registration numbers. Carlos kept his arm around her waist and guided them both to the closest doorway.
Gabrielle wanted to assure him she was ready to fight with him. She kept her voice low. “I’m okay. I can do this.”
“Open the door,” Turga ordered.
Carlos squeezed her waist in reply and gave her a look of admiration that warmed her. He released her to extend his hand and turn the knob, then held the door for her to enter. She stepped out of his grasp and walked boldly through the doorway.
The first thing that hit her was an overpowering metallic smell that gagged her.
The second was the image of a bloody body hanging thirty yards away against a wall.
Her knees buckled.
FIVE
CARLOS CAUGHT GABRIELLE-if that really was her name-under her arms before she sank to the floor.
He’d found Lee.
Gabrielle was making those gut-wrenching noises.
She’d been doing so good, holding up far better than he’d have expected from any civilian. He turned her to face him and held her against his chest. “Breathe through your mouth.”
Carlos felt the cold barrel of his own 9 mm poke his neck.
“Keep moving,” Turga said.
Carlos held her arm as she stepped along with him, slowly, not a drop of color in her face. “Don’t look at him,” he told her, wishing he could vanish the image of Lee strapped to the wall spread eagle.
Lee’s head rolled to one side. He was alive.
Classic Turga location. This would be one of no less than three spots in the area his men would have scouted out for this night.
His men must have found Lee with Baby Face while Carlos had been out in the lake with Gabrielle and assumed Lee had shot Baby Face and knew what the electronics felon was after.
At least Turga and his men weren’t a professional snatch team that would have known to cover his and Gabrielle’s heads with pillowcases, then separate them. Turga was the equivalent of a vulture and he hired bottom-feeders.
Carlos had met him a few months ago when Turga tried to hire Carlos for an operation he declined. If he’d accepted the first time, Turga would have been suspicious, so Carlos had expected a second meeting. Just not this way.
When the chopper pilot entered the building, Turga waved his weapon, indicating a spot where he wanted Carlos and Gabrielle, over to the side. Once Turga was satisfied with their position, he spoke quietly to his pilot.
Carlos averted Gabrielle’s gaze from Lee’s nak*d body, covered in lean muscle and bloody gashes. His face had already swollen to a hideous shape.
Tattoos scrolling across his shoulder and down one arm explained why Joe had taken him in. BAD didn’t recruit from colleges like the CIA and the FBI.
BAD would be more likely to hold a job fair at a prison.
Joe had drawn Carlos in from the street by offering him a chance to legally use his skills at things like breaking and entering. BAD needed an expert on South America, someone who could move around the country undetected.
One thing about Joe, he had timing down to an art. Having refused to choose a gang in San Francisco, Carlos had been living on borrowed time since he poached on all territories back then.
But Lee had clearly taken a different path.
Lee’s inked designs belonged to a Chicago gang known as the Firing Squad, which dealt in interstate drug trafficking, car thefts, shakedowns, and money laundering. A tight group no one undercover had been able to break into.
To become a member, a man had to pass only three tests.
One was to be under the age of twenty.
The second was to be vouched for by a member with five or more years in the gang.
The final and defining test determined if he could kill to survive. The gang pledge had to challenge a member of a rival gang to kill or be killed in thirty days. Sort of the street version of international athletic competition, but in this one the gold chain went to the last one breathing.
The losing opponent won a one-way ticket to hell.
Once the challenge was made, Lee would have had to remain inside the city limits and keep a visible profile for a month with no support.
If he lived, he was in.
The chances of survival were so small it was laughable.
But Lee had made it or he wouldn’t have the ink, because no tattoo artist was stupid enough to ink a gang design without authorization.
But Lee must have turned the corner somewhere. Joe had seen something decent in the kid to bring him into BAD.
Maybe the same thing that had caused Joe to prevent Carlos from going to prison and give him a chance no one else would.
Dammit, Lee couldn’t be over twenty-five.
Why did that seem so young when Carlos was only thirty-three?
Because he’d lived a hard thirty-three years.
Someone moved into view close to Lee. Just as Carlos had suspected, Turga had backup inside the building. Bald, not quite six feet tall, another stocky, dark-skinned Turk.
This guy had tortured Lee.
He would die first.
Carlos glanced around for a place to put Gabrielle so he would have his hands free. The only chairs were next to a table beside where Lee hung. Carlos wasn’t letting Gabrielle anywhere near that animal who had tortured the BAD agent.
What had Lee given up?
Carlos would know soon enough.
“Sit over here.” He moved Gabrielle to a crate and she followed without a word. If she went deep into shock where she wouldn’t respond, getting her out of here unharmed would be tough if he got a break.
He’d deal with that when the time came.
If the time came.
Deep voices murmured behind him. Carlos had to find out what Turga wanted and determine what, if anything, he could negotiate. But he couldn’t leave Gabrielle yet.
He cupped her face with both hands, forcing her to look up at him. Violet-blue eyes stared back with the full force of her terror. But he’d expected a glazed look, so that was promising.
Before he could say another word, a howl of pain from where Lee hung clawed the air.
Carlos clenched his jaw.
Gabrielle jerked. Her face changed from pale to a sick green, but she was holding up damn good for a woman obviously not trained for this. He’d seen men in similar situations completely shut down by now.
“Keep your eyes on me,” Carlos instructed her, then waited on her nod before he turned around. The pilot was gone.
“Why was he with you, Carlos?” Turga asked, indicating Lee. “You share your dates?” Mockery dripped from his tongue.
“Just hired some muscle to watch my back while I stopped in to see her. We were on our way to a job. I caught Baby Face at Gabrielle’s house looking for me. If you’d have waited five minutes, I’d have been back around the house. This”-Carlos pointed at Lee’s battered body-“wouldn’t have been necessary.”
Turga merely smiled. “You paid this kid to back you up? You insult me.” He scowled and turned to his torturer. “What you find out, Izmir?”