Glitter and Gunfire Page 4

  And Cale had sure gotten them out of the shooter’s range fast enough.

  Hot-wiring the car had been a handy trick, a trick that she’d always wanted to learn. Maybe she could convince him to teach her how to do it. Once they were not being chased by gunmen.

  But...for the more pressing matter at hand... “I’m trying to stop the blood flow. That’s what I’m doing.”

  They were in some rundown house on the edge of town. The place had looked abandoned from the outside, and, yes, it pretty much looked that way on the inside, too. Only Cale had told her that it was a safe house.

  She wasn’t exactly feeling safe. And with 0600 ticking closer and closer, she was running out of time in a hurry.

  His fingers curled around her wrist, and he lifted her arm so that he could see the wound. When his face tensed, she realized things were worse than she’d realized. “You need stitches.”

  Definitely worse. “The blood’s stopping.”

  No, it wasn’t.

  “There goes that hitch,” he said, sounding distracted as he bent to study her wound. “Every time you lie, it’s a dead giveaway.”

  Damn. She would have to be a whole lot more careful. How had she not noticed that slip before? “I don’t need stitches.” Okay, maybe she did. But, more important, “I don’t have time to go to a hospital.”

  “Forget the hospital. I’ll give them to you right here.”

  Very bad idea. He was kidding, right? She studied his face, met his stare. Not kidding. Cassidy quickly shook her head. “Do you even know how many infections I could get from you doing that? No way, I—”

  “The wound is deep, and you need stitches. I’ve got the supplies we need right here.”

  Because EOD agents were like Boy Scouts.

  “Look, if it makes you feel better, I stitched myself back up before I went to your place.”

  “You...you were hurt?” She hadn’t even noticed that. He’d seemed fine as he’d carried her out of the party.

  “A graze just deep enough to need a couple of stitches.” He shrugged it off.

  She tried to keep her jaw from dropping. “You get shot a lot, don’t you?” How was that normal?

  “I try not to.”

  That wasn’t the best answer.

  “Come on. We need to get you cleaned up.”

  He meant stitched up, and though the thought made her queasy, Cassidy sucked in a deep breath and squared her shoulders. It had to be done. So she’d do it.

  Then he was leading her into the bathroom. She cleaned away the blood and grime on her. And, yes, the guy did have supplies in that little room. Even latex gloves that he put on right before he got ready to sew her up.

  Don’t look. Don’t look.

  “It’s going to hurt,” he warned her. A second’s warning before he started.

  She kept her head turned away and bit her lip when she felt the needle slide into her skin. Mercer never would have made a sound. Heck, once the guy had been shot—twice—in the chest. He’d dug the bullets out himself, then taken out the men who’d been after him. Like Cale, he’d stitched himself back up.

  Her wound pricked, pulsed.

  She could feel every poke of that needle. A little anesthesia would have been awesome.

  Her eyes squeezed shut.

  This wound was nothing. Mercer had been stabbed four times on a mission in Panama years ago. Those wounds had been so deep, crisscrossing over his chest. She’d been so afraid, then, and—

  “I’m done.”

  Her breath rushed out. She’d made it through. An old trick that she had—just use bad memories to push away the current fear. Fight one fear with another.

  It was her way.

  Because she knew too much about fear.

  Cale finished cleaning up. He put a bandage over her arm. His fingers seemed to linger against her skin. “Where did you go?” Curiosity had deepened his voice.

  Her head turned, and she stared into his eyes.

  His jaw locked. His fingers—not covered in latex gloves any longer—rose to her cheeks.

  He’s wiping away my tears.

  She hadn’t realized that she’d been crying. Had the tears been due to her wound? Or her memories?

  Those stab wounds on Mercer’s chest... When she’d seen him in the hospital, looking so broken, she’d been sure that he was dying.

  But it would take a whole lot to kill Bruce Mercer.

  “You’re not an EOD agent,” Cale said, sounding absolutely sure.

  Her chin jerked up at that. “Don’t be so certain. I did a good enough job of saving you back there, didn’t I?” He would have taken a bullet to the back if it hadn’t been for her. Stitching up her wound hardly made them even.

  No matter what he might think.

  That steady gaze of his never wavered. “How’d you know the shooter was there?”

  “I saw the glint of his weapon.” She’d had only an instant to react. She’d shoved Cale with all of her strength.

  And saved him.

  Point for the debutante.

  He stepped away from her—or as far away as the small space would allow. “I want to know your story.”

  I’m not in the mood to tell it. So she needed to distract him. “Mercer honestly sent you down here without briefing you? I mean, do you usually just unquestioningly follow the guy’s every order—”

  He’d headed back into what she figured was supposed to be a den of sorts. She followed right on his heels. He spun around, and she had to pull up short so they didn’t collide.

  After a considering moment, he gave a nod and said, “I’ll tell you the mission I was given.”

  Uh-oh. She didn’t like the silky menace in his tone.

  “I was told that I needed to head down to Rio and find a party girl named Cassidy Sherridan.”

  A party girl? Well, that was the image she cultivated.

  Only that’s not the real me.

  “I was directed to follow her every move. To stick to her and make sure she remained safe at all times.”

  Her brows climbed. Her arm was still throbbing, but she ignored the pain. “That’s it? That’s all you were told?” Talk about being in the dark. Mercer must have grown even more paranoid about her in recent months.

  She’d give Cale a few details since he’d almost gotten shot.

  “That’s all until I hear from Mercer in—” he glanced at the black watch that circled his wrist “—forty-five minutes.”

  Not enough time.

  She’d have to talk fast. Luckily, she’d always been a fast talker. Cassidy exhaled slowly and began with the truth. “Four years ago, my best friend was abducted from a pub just outside of Dublin.” Four years ago, but the memory was just as fresh in her mind. Fear didn’t fade. “The men who took her said that she’d be returned if they were paid three million dollars. They got their money, but Helen never came home.”

  Not alive, anyway. Her body had eventually been found by the authorities.

  Helen’s death hadn’t been fast or easy. No one should die that way.

  “Since then, over a dozen other women—wealthy, young, well-connected women like Helen—have been taken. Sometimes...sometimes they are brought back, with only nightmares and shadows as their memories, but other times, their abductors leave their broken bodies behind.”

  He watched her in silence.

  She felt as if she’d just ripped open an old, too-raw wound...because she had. “The leader of the group is a man called the Executioner.”

  Cale’s dark brows rose.

  “He named himself—” arrogant, sick jerk “—when he...when he first contacted Helen’s father. He said that if he didn’t get his money, then Helen would face the Executioner’s knife. His knife.”

  And Helen had faced that knife. The blade had sliced away the beauty of her face before plunging into her heart.

  His gaze hardened. “The men at the party...”

  “I think they were the Executioner’s men.” They’
d been after their next target. After trying to attract their deadly attention for so long—

  Finally, they’d come for Cassidy.

  That knowledge was in his eyes. “You set yourself up as bait.” Angry, clipped words.

  She had. There’d been no choice. “Someone has to stop them!”

  His head shook. “The EOD—”

  “I’m the one who told the EOD about the Executioner! I’m the one who went to Mercer.” Because she’d been so desperate.

  “That’s why you have him on speed dial.”

  She waved that away. “My family has connections.” As did the families of all the women who’d been taken. “My grandfather is the French ambassador to the U.S. government. Helen’s father was an Irish diplomat. The Executioner goes after a certain type of woman—”

  “A woman like you.” There was fury darkening his words.

  “Yes.” It made her the perfect bait. The Executioner was an international killer, and because he hunted in so many places, it was hard for one country—and that country’s authorities—to track him.

  The faint lines on Cale’s face had tightened. “Mercer agreed to let you put yourself up as bait?”

  Not exactly. That would be why he kept sending agents to guard her. Only this time, Mercer must have realized just how close she’d finally gotten to the Executioner. “Now that I have the Executioner’s attention, I can’t walk away. This is my chance.”

  But Cale’s voice roughened even more as he demanded, “Your chance to do what? To wind up dead like your friend?”

  Cold, brutal words. She knew his words were supposed to scare her. She’d been dealing with fear too long to let it stop her. “It’s my chance to stop him—and his men—before they destroy more lives. If I can get to the Executioner, if I can bring him down...”

  “You really think that you’re going to do this on your own?”

  Her eyes narrowed. Her heart was drumming too fast in her chest. “I’ve got an EOD agent standing right in front of me. I kind of figured you could do something a little more useful than just being my human shield.”

  A muscle jerked along the square line of his jaw.

  “I mean, what are you?” As Cassidy continued, she let her own anger out. He would help her. “The EOD is always ex-military, right? You barely make any sound when you move—your reflexes are the best of any agent I’ve seen.” She could still remember how quickly he’d pulled his gun in that ballroom. “I’m thinking you’re—”

  “Army ranger. Ex-ranger.”

  Cassidy nodded. She’d figured as much. “Well, since I conveniently have a former army ranger right here with me, I thought I might use your services to stop this killer before he takes any more lives.”

  Using Cale would sure make things easier on her.

  “And what if I hadn’t been here?” Cale took a step toward her. “If Mercer hadn’t sent me down here to watch over you—what would you have done then?”

  She licked her lips. His gaze fell. Heated. Oh, boy. “Come up with a plan B,” she whispered. Actually, she already had her plan B. It was the plan she’d been using before she realized who Cale truly was. But plan B involved a whole lot more risk.

  His gaze was still on her mouth, and there was a sensual awareness kindling in his stare. Her heartbeat kicked up even more, and when had all the air left the room? Sucking in oxygen suddenly became a lot harder.

  Her gaze slid over him. Had his shoulders gotten bigger?

  “You’re in over your head,” Cale told her.

  He took another step toward her.

  That big body of his had been on top of hers when they’d sought cover on the street. Adrenaline had spiked her blood, then, and she’d been thinking mainly about survival, but now...

  Now she was thinking far too much about him. “Will you help me?”

  His hands had fisted. Why? So he wouldn’t touch her? She rather liked the feel of his warm, calloused fingertips on her skin.

  “My job is to follow Mercer’s orders.”

  Like a good soldier. Always following orders. “Sometimes, you have to break orders.”

  His pupils had widened, the darkness swallowing the blue of his eyes. His gaze was back on her mouth.

  He definitely felt the same awareness that she did.

  Only he wasn’t coming any closer to her.

  Fine. She’d get closer to him.

  She sucked in another deep gulp of that precious oxygen, and then she was sliding closer to Cale. Her fingers rose and pressed against his chest. He’d ditched the tux and wore a dark T-shirt and jeans. Beneath the thin cotton of the T-shirt, she could easily feel the hard strength of his muscles.

  Someone liked to work out. A lot.

  “Help me,” she said, glancing up at him. “Please, Cale.” Then, because it was what she wanted, and she hadn’t taken what she wanted in so very long, Cassidy pushed up onto her toes and put her mouth against his.

  At first, he didn’t move. Not even an inch.

  His lips were firm and cool beneath hers, and his body was rock hard. Her mouth moved lightly against his. Please, don’t let this be a mistake. Don’t let it be—

  His hands lifted, locked around her and hauled her against him. Their bodies pressed tightly together and his mouth took hers.

  His lips parted. So did hers. His tongue thrust into her mouth, and, oh, wow, but the agent could sure kiss. Her knees did a little jiggle as she pressed even closer to him.

  Heat uncurled in her stomach, a long-denied need that had been buried for too long. But this man, with his strength and the aura of danger that clung to him like a second skin, he made her feel. He made her burn.

  He made her want.

  Her arm wasn’t hurting anymore. Or, if it was, she sure didn’t feel the pain. All she could feel was him, surrounding her, making the desire that she felt for him grow ever stronger.

  This wasn’t about the mission that she’d made her life. This wasn’t about avenging a friend.

  It was about a man. A woman. Desire.

  It was—

  His mouth lifted from hers. His fingers bit into her waist. “Did you think it would work?”

  Things had seemed to be working just fine here. Her ragged breath indicated things were more than fine.

  “You aren’t going to use your body to make me forget my mission.”

  Oh, he had not just said that to her. Heat burned in her cheeks, and Cassidy knew she had to be flushing a dark red. “That wasn’t—”

  But his jaw was locked. Desire blazed in his eyes, yet when he spoke, his voice was ice-cold. “I never forget my mission, and I won’t be distracted by someone like you.”

  Someone like you.

  The brittle words froze the heat in her cheeks. She’d kissed Cale because she wanted him, but he—he might physically want her, but he sure didn’t like that desire.

  No. What he didn’t like was her.

  To him, she was—what had he called her?—a party girl.

  In that same emotionless voice, he told her, “Whatever help you thought you’d seduce me into giving you—”

  “I didn’t!” Cassidy denied the charge, the urge to scream incredibly strong.

  “It’s not going to happen.” There was a definite arctic chill in his voice.

  She straightened her shoulders, grabbing for her pride. “I didn’t kiss you because I was trying to manipulate you.”

  His one raised eyebrow called the words a lie.

  “I kissed you because I stupidly wanted you. Don’t worry. I won’t be making that mistake again.”

  The door opened behind them. No knock, it just shoved open. Cassidy spun around and saw two big, rather scary-looking men filling the doorway.

  The man in front, the guy with the dark hair and the piercing eyes, inclined his head toward her. “Ms. Sherridan.”

  Of course he knew her, and since Cale wasn’t grabbing for a weapon, she figured these two had to be the good guys.

  Semi-good, anyway.
As good as EOD agents could be.

  She realized, too late, that she’d instinctively backed up when her shoulders brushed against Cale. She jerked at the contact, and the man with the eyes that she swore could see right through her—he noted that move.

  Wonderful.

  The other fellow behind him—talk about intimidating. And she’d thought Cale was dangerous looking? This guy took dangerous to a whole new level. His face wasn’t handsome; it was just hard edges, rough lines. His skin was a dark gold, his hair black and his eyes a shining green. He kicked the door shut, secured the lock, then announced, “We’ve got a problem.”

  She forced a mocking laugh. “If you call men shooting at us a problem...”

  “What’s happening, Gunner?” Cale demanded.

  Wait, there was a problem other than the shooting?

  The man he’d called Gunner—Mr. Tall, Dark and Scary—let his bright gaze sweep back to Cassidy. “Your friend, the redhead from the party...”

  Her gut clenched. “Genevieve?” Genevieve Chevalier was one of the few people that she actually did count as a friend. She’d known Genevieve since their boarding school days.

  Gunner nodded curtly. “She’s missing.”

  Cassidy shook her own head in denial. Genevieve was fine. She’d taken her friend back to Genevieve’s hotel after they’d been cleared by the Rio authorities.

  “The local cops said they had a guard on her. We thought she was safe.” This came from the other guy—the man who was now stalking around the small confines of the room. “We were wrong. When I did a surveillance sweep by her place a little while ago, she was gone and the guard was dead.”

  Genevieve’s gone? If she was and if her guard had been killed, then... “They took her.” Dark, twisting fear spread inside Cassidy. If they didn’t find Genevieve, fast, then she could be dead.

  Tortured, just like Helen.

  “We think they came for you,” the man began.

  “Logan...” A warning note had entered Cale’s voice.

  This man—Logan—ignored the warning as he kept his focus on Cassidy. “Cale got you away from them, but Genevieve’s guard wasn’t able to save her. They took her.” His lips tightened. “And I want to know why.”

  Another EOD agent who hadn’t been briefed. Wasn’t Mercer just keeping them all in the dark these days? But she knew why.