Dangerous Attraction Romantic Suspense Boxed Set (9 Novels from Bestselling Authors, plus Bonus Christmas Novella from NY Times Bestselling Author Rebecca York) Page 24

  The sheer relief at having her pressed up close against his body made him a little dizzy, but maybe it was partially due to blood loss as well. “How you doin’, sweetheart?” he murmured against her hair, grateful she was safe and in his arms.

  “Doing the best I can,” she answered in a rough voice.

  “I hear you.” But damn, she completely melted him. Even after everything they’d been through together these past few days, she’d flat out amazed him in that smoky stairwell. Keeping it together while under fire with nowhere to go, crawling over to help him when he was hit and then emptying a clip into the shooters when firing a pistol was as foreign to her as Pashto? Fucking bravest thing he’d ever seen. He felt so much for her, he didn’t know what to do with it all, let alone how to put it into words. “Gage said you got hit in the back. Do you need anything?”

  “No, they gave me a shot of something already. Stitches just kind of burn and pull, you know?”

  “I do,” he answered sardonically. “And whatever they didn’t get out will eventually work its way out of your skin on its own.”

  “Ew. Seriously?” She shuddered.

  “Yeah, it’s fun times.” God knew he’d be pulling splinters of metal and concrete out of his hide for months to come.

  “What about you?” She pulled her head back slightly to study his bandaged arm, then looked up into his face. “Gage is hassling the doctors right now to get them to fast track your x-ray results. He told me he saw the films and there’s no break or bullet in there, but I’m not sure how good his x-ray reading is.”

  “I’d say he’s right on this one. I’m all stitched up and ready to roll.”

  Khalia was frowning in concern, clearly not approving of his answer. She unwound her arms from his ribs and placed her palms flat against his chest, gazing up at him with pale green eyes shadowed by fear and worry. “Come back with me. Get on the plane with Ray and me and leave here, this morning.”

  He was such a selfish prick for thinking it, but man he loved that she was so worried about him. “Wish I could, sweetheart, but I’ve got a job to finish first.”

  She closed her eyes for a second, exhaustion and strain written in every line of her face. Then she peered back up at him, tried once more. “Please.”

  Something ached inside him at the plea in her voice. Other than his mother, he couldn’t remember having anyone worry about him. And Khalia had already seen firsthand the sort of danger his job could entail. Though there wasn’t much he would deny this woman, this was one thing he couldn’t give her. “I can’t, I’m team leader. And I wouldn’t be good enough for you if I left the rest of the guys to take care of this without me.” Didn’t matter that he wasn’t in the Teams anymore; he’d always be a SEAL at heart.

  “Yes you would.” She reached up and took his face between her hands, her expression earnest. “Because you know what? I love you. And you coming back home with me now isn’t going to change my opinion of you one bit—I just want you safe.”

  He barely heard the last sentence, still stuck back on the three word bomb she’d just dropped on him. Except instead of freaking him out, her declaration made him feel like the luckiest bastard on the planet. He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. “You love me? You sure it’s not just because of everything that’s gone down since you got here?” As soon as the words were out he wanted to take them back, in case her answer might be yes.

  “Yes I’m sure,” she retorted, eyes flashing with indignation, that stubborn chin lifting. “You think that’s something I’d say without meaning it?”

  He smothered a chuckle and opened his mouth to reassure her by telling her exactly how hard he’d fallen for her when a clipped female voice called out.

  “Mr. Phillips.”

  He looked over his shoulder, annoyed at the interruption. Really, universe? Really? The female doctor was striding toward him, her irritation clear on her face. “Yes?”

  She stopped a few feet from him, casting an aggravated glance at Khalia as she tugged on the hem of her scrubs top and pinned him with an outraged glare. “It seems you and your American friends have no interest in following protocol and allowing us to do our jobs properly, so considering the bleeding is taken care of and that I see no visible fractures in your humerus or other large fragments in your arm, you are free to go.”

  The words were spat at him like bullets, her opinion of him and his “friends” made plain. Her speech had just ended when Gage appeared around the corner and spotted them all. The doctor glanced over at him, humphed, and stormed off.

  Hunter grinned at him. “I love you, man.”

  Gage smiled back and nodded toward the exit. “Shall we?”

  Hunter reached down to take Khalia’s hand, aware of the color in her cheeks and that he’d just said the L word to Gage instead of her. Hell. There was plenty he wanted to say to her, just not in front of anyone. He held her hand as they walked out of the hospital and into the hot afternoon sunshine. The moment they exited the building, Hunter spotted Ellis and Dunphy leaning against their parked SUV at the entrance. They headed straight over, their posture and expressions telling him something else was going on.

  “What’s up?” he asked them, bracing for more bad news. He felt Khalia’s hand tense in his, squeezed gently in reassurance.

  Ellis shot a look at Dunphy before turning his attention back to Hunter. “Think we’ve got something.”

  Oh, hell yes. Not wanting her to overhear in case it made her more upset, he released Khalia’s hand and limped over to them, Gage right beside him. “What?”

  “Had someone in Youssef’s office keep tabs on him for us before we headed to the hotel. Word is he’s nervous as shit and just left the office,” Ellis said.

  “Ah, hell—”

  “No, it’s good.” A huge grin spread across Dunphy’s face as he held up his phone. “Because we’re tracing his every move via the tracking device we had his co-worker plant on him.”

  Hunter smiled back, the adrenaline already pumping as he watched the tiny red dot move on the screen. “Awesome. So where is he now?”

  “Just leaving downtown. Dot’s moving fast, so he must be in a vehicle of some sort. Co-worker told me Youssef rides the bus a lot. My guess is he’s headed back to Pesh, to hook up with someone from the cell to take him into hiding.”

  Excitement ignited in his blood. “Let’s nail the bastard.” He glanced back at Khalia, who stood watching them, just as Tom pulled his vehicle up behind Ellis and Dunphy. Hunter watched her eyes shift from him to Tom and back, and knew the instant she realized what was happening. Her face crumpled. The devastation in her eyes hit him like a roundhouse to the gut. Christ, she thought he was deserting her. It was all over her face.

  Baby, no. He closed the distance between them with four limping strides and pulled her into a hug, careful of her bandage. She was stiff in his arms, but thankfully didn’t pull away.

  “Hey,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, but we have to act on this right now.”

  She gave a jerky nod, refused to look up at him.

  Hunter sighed. This timing was shit. She needed him and he wanted to be there for her, but this lead trumped everything else because it was perishable and every second mattered. “You know I have to do this. It’s my job, and I want this guy. I’m gonna get him and bring down this whole cell for everything it did to you, me, your father and Scottie. I’m gonna get him, Khalia. And while I’m doing it I want to know that you’re finally safe and on your way home.”

  One of her hands crept up to grasp the front of his shirt and he felt her shoulders shake. A lump settled in the center of his chest and he gathered her closer. “Hey. This isn’t goodbye, it’s just see you later. You think I’d let you go after everything we’ve been through together?” He set her back a little, just enough to look down into her face. The tears glimmering in her eyes sliced him. “You won’t lose me,” he promised, then let out a breath and laid it all on the line. “You couldn’t, because I’ve
fallen for you. Hard.”

  She stared up at him with surprised, tear-bright eyes. “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.” He was done for, he knew it, and was glad he’d admitted it. Hunter leaned down and kissed her, swallowed a groan of relief when she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Someone honked the SUV’s horn.

  Hunter pulled away and forced a smile, the pain of his wounds all but forgotten for the moment. “Go with Tom. Right now I need you safe so I can finish this. Tomorrow night when I go to sleep I want to know you’re home safe and sound with your family. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.”

  She didn’t fully believe him, he could tell by the dread lurking in her eyes. He shook his head, tried once more to reassure her. “You gotta trust me again this one last time, baby. Please just trust me. I won’t let you down, I swear.”

  Before she could answer the SUV’s horn blared again, and Hunter bit back a curse as he turned away and looked at Tom, waiting by his rental. “You take care of her.”

  He nodded, face solemn. “You know it, brother.”

  With that Hunter headed straight for the SUV, too chicken shit to look back and see the tears in Khalia’s eyes.

  * * *

  Near the back of the city bus, Youssef fumbled in his pocket and dug out the last of the Pepto Bismol tablets he’d snagged from the office medicine cabinet. The chalky-sweet things made him gag but at least if he threw up again he’d actually have something in his stomach this time. His throat felt like it had second degree burns in it from all the bile he’d retched up throughout the morning at work.

  Rubbing his sweaty palms on his thighs, he stared out the grimy window and went over his plan once more. Flying was too great a risk now, and he couldn’t buy anything that required ID, credit or debit card. The small amount of cash he had on him wasn’t going to last long and he knew better than to show up at his parents’ home for help. They didn’t deserve to be dragged into this mess any farther, and Youssef knew they were already being watched by the man who’d threatened him, and probably other agencies as well.

  The cell leader in Peshawar was pleased with Youssef’s work in this operation, and he was hopeful the man would help him get over the border into Pakistan. If he could make it to Peshawar and find some TTP members, from there he could slip over the border into Afghanistan and wait in a safe house until he came up with a long term plan. Because as of this morning, life as he’d known it was over for good. If he stayed, the man from the warehouse would kill him. His only option was to run.

  He heard the sirens approach behind them and felt a sickening lurch in his stomach. His face, palms and back were slick with the cold sweat of fear, his heart racing so fast he felt dizzy. A glance out the window showed two police vehicles racing up behind the bus. Every muscle in his body drew taut, an innate response to the futility of his situation.

  But the vehicles didn’t pull up beside the bus. They passed it and sped onward, the blare of their sirens eventually fading into nothing. Youssef sagged against the seat and closed his eyes with a silent prayer of thanks.

  A few moments later, the bus slammed on its brakes.

  Youssef barely threw a hand out in time to stop his face from crashing into the back of the seat in front of him. The vehicle skidded and lurched, came to a violent stop there in the middle of the road. All around him people were chattering, craning their necks toward the driver and then outside to see what was the matter. A second after that, someone pounded on the front door.

  A bone-chilling flash of fear ripped through him.

  The door opened and a group of men boarded the bus. The first one was a big man with a reddish skull trim. Two full sleeves of tattoos showed below the cuffs of his T-shirt, which was stretched taut across the defined muscles in his arms and chest. He was right in the driver’s face, and though Youssef couldn’t hear what was being said, the driver had his hands up and was leaning away as though to show he was no threat and wasn’t about to put up a fight. Passengers were beginning to move to the rear, watching everything unfold with uneasy expressions.

  Trapped at the back, Youssef had nowhere to go.

  Two more men came aboard, one with darker skin and a slightly shorter one with black hair. All were armed with pistols. They did a visual sweep of the bus. Unable to look away, Youssef slowly sank down in his seat to try and avoid detection.

  The first man’s gaze traveled over the passengers at the back of the bus and landed on him. Stopped. Held. He murmured something to the darker-skinned man behind him, who immediately pinned him with startling hazel eyes. Youssef didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe, convinced this was a nightmare and wasn’t really happening at all. It was too surreal. There was no way they could have found him. Not this soon.

  The thought had barely formed when a fourth man stepped aboard the bus. Taller than the last, with short dark hair, and made of solid muscle. He strode down the aisle with a pronounced limp and a bandaged upper arm that did nothing to detract from his menacing appearance. This man had done hard time in the military, and he meant business. His gaze locked onto Youssef and he saw the fire burning in the other man’s light brown eyes.

  Victory. And vengeance.

  Instinct drove Youssef to leap up and dive for the lock on the emergency window. His right knee landed on the lap of the lady cowering beside him. He barely heard her cry of pain, didn’t even feel the blows as she struck out at him. His hands clawed at the release latch, managed to slide it open. He shoved it free and had his head stuck out of it when he heard the shout behind him.

  Powerful hands grabbed his waist. He cried out and lashed back with both feet, the soles of his shoes hitting an unforgiving wall of muscle. In the blink of an eye he was yanked backward through the window and slammed to his back on the aisle floor. The air rushed out of his lungs and spots of light danced when his head smacked into the floor. A hard weight landed on him, flipped him over then seized his wrists and wrenched them up and back, the brute force of it nearly snapping the bones.

  With a scream of terror and pain, Youssef arched up against his assailant, but it was like trying to move a bulldozer. His lungs seized once more when he found himself staring up into that hard, livid face.

  “Who are you?” the man growled, the muscles in his jaw so tight they stood out in sharp relief.

  Don’t answer. Don’t answer.

  A vicious jerk on his arms, sending a sharp stab of pain into his shoulder sockets. “Who are you?”

  “No one!” he cried, certain his arms were going to be ripped free. “I’m no one!”

  The man sat back slightly, but didn’t ease up on his grip as he spoke to the man behind him, the redhead with the skull trim. “Search him.”

  The big American wasted no time in frisking him, coming up with the empty packet of tablets and his wallet. Youssef closed his eyes but couldn’t bear being both blind and helpless. He looked up in time to see the man reading his driver’s license and show it to the brutish dark-haired man who pinned him. Then he held up something small and flat, like a watch battery, and Youssef recognized what it was.

  Faatin. That bitch had somehow planted a tracking device in his wallet for these men when he hadn’t been looking. Probably while he was in the men’s room, throwing up. Fear and helplessness washed through him.

  His captor glanced at the license, his expression becoming even more frightening in its triumph as he turned that angry glare back on him. “Youssef Khan,” he murmured in a silky tone that made Youssef’s skin crawl and gave a tsking sound. “You’ve been a very bad boy.”

  Had he really feared dying this morning in that warehouse? As they unceremoniously hauled him to his feet and shoved him toward the bus’s door, Youssef had a feeling he would soon wish he was already dead.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “Khalia.” A hand waved in front of her face. “Hello?”

  She looked away from the Emirates 767 parked at the gate waiting to take them to London and tur
ned to blink up at Tom. “Sorry?”

  He didn’t comment on her spacing out, just gestured across the gate lounge toward the snack shops where a few vendors were open to cater to the tourists who weren’t observing the Ramadan fasting. “I asked if you want something to eat before they start boarding us.”

  “No thanks.” Ick, the last thing she felt like doing right now was eating. She glanced at her watch. They were due to board in another few minutes. Tom as well, since he was coming with her and Ray all the way back to Chicago. He’d told her he meant to see her home safely, and she wasn’t going to argue because the truth was she felt better with him there. God knew she needed the mental support Tom’s protection gave her.

  She covered another dry cough with one hand, winced as it pulled at the stitches in her upper back. There wasn’t an inch of her that didn’t feel bruised or battered, and she was more exhausted than she’d ever imagined humanly possible. Both emotionally and physically, she was fried. On the way here Tom had informed her that the Swat Valley school was closed until further notice while authorities ensured the area was secure enough for the girls to return to class.

  The icing on this spectacular disaster of a trip.

  She needed a day straight of sleep but every time she closed her eyes, some horrific image flashed through her head. An explosion, or gunfire, or seeing those bodies in the stairwell. As soon as they’d reached the airport she’d been hustled to a private room with a shower to clean up while Tom and his crew stood guard outside. Even scrubbed and wearing new clothes she couldn’t get the acrid reek of smoke out of her nose.

  “I know you don’t feel like it right now, but you should try to eat something. Then when we get on board you can just sleep all the way to London,” Ray said beside her. He’d stuck to her side from the moment she’d arrived at the airport and found him waiting with more security personnel at the terminal. No less than eight of them now stood around the perimeter of the gate lounge to ensure their safety. They were all armed, a mix of Pakistani and foreign contractors working for Tom. All of them combined didn’t make her feel even half as safe as Hunter did.