22/01/2021
đđAnti herođđ
â¤Chapter Five,â¤
Instead of pulling into the extra carport like he used to, Nate parked down the street. A habit from his job. Stay out of sight. Blend in with the surroundings. Keep an eye out for anything suspicious.
Like that white unmarked van beside the curb.
It meant nothing. This was a pretty safe-pocket neighborhood despite its proximity to downtown. No reason to think anything was wrong.
I just wanted to hear your voice.
What if she was in trouble? No, it was just a stupid phone call. He told himself that even as he sped up, weaving through the wooded lawns so heâd be less visible on his approach.
Man, he was going to feel like a chump if he showed up at her place only to find her in bed with some guy. Heâd found so many of his clientsâ wives that way, he almost expected it. But if there was even a chance she needed his help, if she were hurt⌠He couldnât even consider that.
His head pounded; his throat went dry. Skill only got a soldier so far. Beyond that, heâd learned to trust his instincts, and they were going haywire. A sunny day in a pleasant neighborhood, and everything was still, as if even the squirrels and the birds were in hiding, the whole street holding its breath.
He paused behind a large oak, scanning the entrance and windows. A shadow moved behind the blinds in the bedroom. His mind could easily picture her gorgeous body, skin always bronze, dripping wet after a shower.
Or had that shadow been someone else?
Her patio and the one beneath it were identical, but unlike the bottom one, the vertical blinds to her patio were open, as usual. Heâd always given her a hard time about that, how sheâd give the neighbors a show if she padded to the kitchen for a drink of water in the middle of the night. There were no neighbors now, only him. And the person walking across her living room wasnât wearing an oversize longhorn T-shirt.
He was dressed in all black, with a matching ski mask.
Nate knew what fear felt like. Heâd belly crawled through the bug-infested jungle, watching bullets plunge into the mud beside his head. Heâd been tied up and beaten in a s**t-brick hut. As they brought a bat down on his knee, heâd thought Iâm going to die here and he had come to terms with that. It was what a soldier did; he felt fear and pushed through it.
None of those experiences prepared him for the sight of an armed intruder in Sofiaâs apartment. His brain went fuzzy red with rage for a split second, his whole being consumed with the need to attack. Right the f**k now.
He didnât care for himself. They could fill him full of lead, and through the pure force of his fury, heâd live long enough to strangle them personally. But Sofia would be up there. She could get taken hostage or caught in the cross fire. He couldnât risk it.
If they were at all smart, they were keeping a watch on the main entrance to the building and on Sofiaâs door. Maybe it was dead bolted, and he couldnât shoot through that without risking shooting her. Neither could he pick the lock without getting himself shot through the door.
The best entrance was a surprise attack through the patio. Beside the stacked patios, yellow hydrangeas trailed up the sides. Heâd climb the trellis that started from the bottom and hope it held his weight.
At the base of the trellis he paused, hearing a faint sound from inside. He cocked his head. A muted scream of pain followed. Female. Sofia. And it was coming from the first floor. There was no time to analyze why the hell she was downstairs instead of up. Judging from the distance of the scream, she was farther inside the lower apartment, not near the patio door. He shot through the patio door, aiming toward the ground, and then kicked in the rest of the glass.
Pushing through the blinds, he took in the scene. Sofia was on the ground, holding the side of her face. Another man lay beside her, wounded or dead. A man dressed in black stood over her, armed.
A single tap to the head and the armed man went down.
Sofia shrieked, but his attention was diverted when another as***le thundered down the stairs. Retrieving the knife from his boot, Nate ducked behind the divider wall and waited.
The man rushed into the kitchen, and Nate grabbed him by the neck, sticking him in the back. The liver, he judged based on the height. A fatal blow. The man choked on his own vomit, and Nate let him slide to the floor, turning him over and straddling his neck.
âWho sent you?â he demanded.
The manâs eyes were already rolling back in his head. Damn. He hadnât meant to kill this one, at least not so soon. Not when he still needed information. He shook the man, and the bastardâs eyes slowly focused on him.
âThatâs right. Who sent you?â
âF**k you,â he spat.
âCome on, Iâm trying to help you here. We can do this easy or hard. Easy means I end this quickly. Hard means I let you bleed out. That pain youâre feeling now? It only gets worse. Now tell me who sent you.â
âI donât know anything, I swear. They donât tell us anything.â Far too late, panic entered his eyes, but Nate hadnât been lying about the pain.
Heâd seen enough men die this wayâtoo many men.
Nate cocked his head. The soft sound of booted footfalls came from upstairs. A third intruder.
He looked at the man beneath him with pity. âWrong answer.â
A smooth cut sliced open his throat and put him out of his misery. Despite Nateâs threat to make him suffer, heâd never been comfortable with animal abuse.
During the scuffle, Sofia had crawled into the corner. Now she huddled against the refrigerator, her cheek already swelling. Goddamn it. That son of a bitch had hit her. Now he wanted to kill the f**ker all over again. The fear in her eyes wrenched his gut, but he couldnât focus on that now.
He handed her his Sig. âAnyone comes in here that isnât me, shoot âem.â
She stared at the weapon, nostrils flared. Finally, she took it with a tight nod. Good girl.
Not sparing another second, he cleared each room in the downstairs apartment and then made his way upstairs. He only had his knife now, but on a good day, he was more lethal this way. And this would be a good day. Blood pumped fast and hot through his veins, imbuing him with speed and strength. Rage tightened his vision. They came after his girl? The last thing theyâd see was his face, bidding them good night. Simple as motherf**king pie.
The third man was searching her closet. He didnât even detect Nateâs approach until the knife was resting against his jugular. Nate used his free hand to lock the manâs elbow behind his back.
âYour friends are dead,â Nate murmured against the manâs ear.
The acidic stench of urine suffused the air as the man wet himself.
Nate chuckled softly. âTell me what you know, and I might let you live.â
âI canât⌠I donât⌠Please, I donâtâŚâ
The man babbled incoherently. Nate let the knife cut into his skin, just a nick.
âNow, now,â Nate said. âThis is important. I need you to focus. You can do that for me, right?â
âI donât know anything. They just paid us to bring them the laptop.â
âAnd?â Nate twisted the manâs elbow.
âAnd the girl,â he gasped out. âLeave her body. Take a picture.â
A picture for proof of death. His girl, dead. Rage blackened his vision. Nate forced himself to calm. âTell me about the man who paid you. Who is he?â
âI swear I donât know. I donât know. I donât know.â
Disgusted, Nate shook his head. Dark impulses tugged at him. He could make this man talk. Nothing was more persuasive than pain, and Nate knew how to apply it. But Sofia was waiting for him downstairs. Lovely, pure Sofia who shouldnât be anywhere near this.
With a clinical blow to the manâs temple, he knocked him out. Dragging the bulky man downstairs, he felt the first twinges in his knee. The pain couldnât touch him now, flying high on adrenaline, but if he pushed too hard, the joint was liable to give out. He forced himself to slow down as he returned to the kitchen and tossed his charge into a kitchen chair.
Sofia was waiting where heâd left her, her back against a corner, clutching the gun. He hated that she saw him as a killer now, the way he saw himself, but he couldnât focus on that now. The bruise on her cheek had swelled, making his blood burn hot. Her bright, fear-stained eyes watched the manâs head loll back in the chair.
Nate crouched over the man whoâd been on the floor since the beginning, blood staining his shirt. He vaguely recognized him as her landlordâwhat was his name, Ernie? He was always sniffing around Sofiaâs skirts. He touched his fingers to Ernieâs pulse: dead and cooling. Well, he wouldnât need his belt then.
Nate removed it quickly and twined it through the back of the chair, binding his unconscious captiveâs hands behind his back. He stuck the top of the chair underneath the lip of the counter for good measure. The intruder probably wouldnât wake up for hours, but if he did, heâd be trapped.
When he turned back, Sofia held out a circle of duct tape. For reasons unknown, speech was beyond him at the moment. He raised an eyebrow.
âForâŚâ She bit her lip. âFor a blindfold. If you wanted.â
Jesus. Her eyes were wide as saucers as he took it from her and tied it around the manâs head. This had to be freaking her out, but she kept up just fine. But that was Sofia, capable and so damn gorgeous she made his heart squeeze painfully. He had the trained ability to shut off his emotions and become this violent machine. She didnât have thatâjust an innate sense of right and wrong and a courage that continually stunned him. Even after what she had been through, she wanted to fight for other people.
He bound the manâs ankles to the legs of the chair for good measure. The homemade binds would keep the man contained until police arrived. He stepped back and surveyed the man. Black T-shirt, black cargo pants. No identification. He may not have been the highest quality, but there was no doubt heâd spoken the truthâhe was a paid mercenary.
In Sofiaâs closet, a paid mercenary.
Using the kitchen phone, he placed a call directly to his buddy on the Austin police force. The man had been Special Forces before Nateâs time, but the respect was mutual. Theyâd had an off-the-records understanding, with Jed providing information when Nate needed it and Nate following up on leads when Jedâs hands were tied up with red tape.
âThis is Lieutenant Commander Patterson.â The answer was clipped.
âJed. Itâs Nate.â
âNate.â His voice sharpened, detecting the thinly veiled violence in Nateâs voice. âWhatâs wrong?â
âI need some uniforms over here.â He rattled off the address. âA few men down. Another oneâs my gift to you. They broke into Sofiaâs place. Assaulted her. Killed her landlord.â
âSh*t.â There was rustling. âIâll put in the call, but it may be a while.â
Seriously? âIâve got a prisoner in f**king leather bo***ge and duct tape. Not to mention a few cooling bodies. Letâs make this sooner rather than later.â
âI hear you, but weâre drowning. Code f**king red. Havenât you heard?â
âTell me.â
Nateâs blood ran cold as he listened. An explosion at the Austin Daily, where Sofia worked. He stared into her fathomless dark brown eyes across the few feet of kitchen tile that separated them while Jed told him all about the blast that could have killed her. That darkening bruise on her cheek was nothing compared to what a bomb could do to her. He had no idea what had happened to make her a target, but he was going to keep her safe.
He didnât take his eyes off hers when he spoke. âJed? Iâm leaving the prisoner for you, but when your guys get here, weâll be gone.â
âYou need to remain there. Someone will need to take your statementââ
âThis is my statement, Jed. These f**kers were in her apartment. Her motherf**king closet. And now you tell me they bombed her work? Iâm not letting her stick around to give them a third shot at her.â
The line was quiet a moment; then Jed said, âYeah. Okay.â
And yeah, okay because Jed knew who Sofia was to him. Which meant he also knew that Nate wasnât going to let a damn thing happen to her. An explosion at her work and three mercenaries in her home? Jesus.
He hung up the phone.
On impulse, he strode over and pulled her into his arms. He was dirty and she was clean, but he couldnât resist holding her tight, breathing in her hair and feeling her pulse beat beneath soft skin. Her breath came in rapid puffs against his shirtfront. Alive. She was alive. And yeah, he was trembling; he could own that, because if he hadnât been here, if heâd never seen her again, heâd have lost it.
So much for pretending he didnât give a damn. Every cell in his body was attuned to herâher safety, her fear. His concern for her was all-encompassing, leaving himâŚexactly where heâd always avoided. Open. Vulnerable.
She turned her face up, her gaze searching his. He had no idea what she saw there, but it made her cup her palm against his jaw. It was clenched tight, but at her touch, he loosened a fraction, at the proof that she wasnât afraid of him after what sheâd seen him do.
âIs this why you wouldnât tell me?â she whispered.
Towards the end, sheâd tried to get him to tell her about his time in the army. Things that he was careful to avoid speaking about, even thinking about, things that only surfaced occasionally in his dreams.
He had refused, of course. The reason why they sent trained killers out into the world was so people like her could be safe and ignorant in their beds. She might have thought she wanted to know, but he wouldnât wish that knowledge on anyone.
It was the same reason heâd never told her about his moonlighting gigâthe black ops work he still did on the side. Even though the omission had meant heâd never be truly open with her, had maybe caused the rift between them that made her walk.
Yes, this was a glimpse of what it had been like, skimming the surface of death and darkness and the despair that he really was a coldhearted bastard.
He turned her question around. âWhy didnât you tell me about the explosion?â
She flinched. The irony didnât escape him that he expected her to confide in him while he kept his past locked up. But that was ancient history and this was her life at stake. Nothing was more important than that.
âIt doesnât feel real.â Her brow lowered in confusion. âI was right outside. I watched it happen, but it doesnât seem real.â
He understood that. The first time heâd watched three of his buddies blown to bits in an IED explosion, heâd kept expecting to see them in their bunks. When theyâd assigned other soldiers to their beds, Nate had started a cafeteria brawl with one of them, as if he could punch the truth of the matter right out of him. Didnât work though.
It sucked to care. Sucked a lot, and Sofia cared more than anyone he knew.
He couldnât find the words to tell her it got easier, couldnât lie to her when she seemed so small and fragile in his arms. After the fight, his commanding officer had looked at him with knowing eyes, when Nate hadnât even understood why he was so pi**ed off.
As punishment, heâd been assigned to scrub the decks for a week, but the labor had been exactly what heâd needed to get his head on straight. Something to keep busy and be useful.
That was all he could offer Sofia.
âGo pack a bag,â he said.
She blinked slowly. âWhy?â
âWeâre getting out of here, at least for tonight. Until I can figure out what the hellâs going on and how to keep you safe.â
He braced himself for her objections. She would want to talk to the police, give a statement. Have them protect her instead of her bastard ex-boyfriend. But the argument never came. She simply went upstairs to do as he asked. He followed her, humbled by her blind trust in him and unwilling to let her out of his sight.
She packed quickly, bringing only a backpack with clothes and toiletries and a messenger bag.
âYour laptop in there?â he asked, nodding toward the bag.
She glanced down. âYeah, why?â
Because sheâd almost been killed for it. âDo you always bring it with you to work?â
âSometimes. Iâve got a desktop there, but I wanted to bring some files home. The images can get pretty huge, so itâs fastest to download them directly to my laptop.â
âWell, thatâs what the men were after.â That and a snapshot of a hole in her head, but he didnât think that part needed elaboration at the moment.
She frowned, lifting the flap to peek at her laptop. âI donât know what would be valuable. A bunch of newspaper clippings that are publicly available.â
âHmm. Weâll look through it when youâre safe.â
He kept her behind him down the stairs and across the lawns to his car. Most likely those men were it. Three would have seemed like plenty to kill an unarmed young woman. But he wasnât taking any chances.
He gestured her into the driverâs seat.
She raised her eyebrows in surprise but threw her bags into the passenger seat and sat behind the wheel without complaint. It warmed him that she seemed to trust him still, even after seeing what he was capable of. Then again, sheâd never balked at following his ordersâat least in one area of their relationship.
He handed her the keys and watched while she turned on the ignition. âIâm going to scope out the van I think they came in. Most likely no oneâs in there or they would have bolted when the shooting started, but just in case, I want you to stay here with the engine running. If anyone approaches the car thatâs not meââ
âRun them over?â
He felt a grin tug at his lips. âI was going to say hightail it out of here, but that works too.â
....
Sorry for the late post
