19. Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
Day 7 San Bernardino, California
Three hours after following Tag and Tram out the back entrance of her condo complex and stowing Trident’s carrier in the cargo area of Trammel’s SUV, Demi and her cat arrived in San Bernardino. The trip to the rendezvous point should have taken two hours. Would have, if things had gone smoother on the feline front.
She’d directed Tram to the animal clinic, where she’d wasted fifteen minutes begging the clinic staff to take Trident. The receptionist and veterinarian refused, claiming they had neither the time, nor the space, to care for Trident for an extended period. She offered to prepay. She offered twice their daily fee. She would have offered a kidney if she thought it would have helped. Their refusal, she was certain, had more to do with the hissy fit spewing from Trident’s carrier, rather than the lack of a definitive pickup date. Either way, the clinic’s refusal meant his noisy majesty would have to accompany her on this unexpected trip.
Aiden would not be pleased.
Even less pleased than her two stoic rescuers, who’d spent the past two hours listening to Trident’s howling, growling, hissing, and cage rattling. Hell’s bells, the furry little demon had some lungs on him, and enough energy to flood the SUV with a near constant cacophony of his displeasure. It didn’t help that they’d gotten stuck behind road work for thirty minutes and then fell victim to slow traffic syndrome. From the periodic forehead massages, not to mention the wincing, she suspected the men up front had horrendous headaches. So did she.
“We’re here,” Tram said during a momentary lull in Trident’s hysterics. His white fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “Thank Christ.”
Demi silently echoed his thankfulness, relieved that her chauffeur hadn’t pulled over and ended Trident’s histrionics with a well-placed bullet.
The airfield was surrounded by a chain-link fence topped with razor wire. Tag drove through the open gate. The runway was cracked and discolored, while the grass surrounding it was stringy and yellow. Clusters of rusted metal buildings followed the fence line. A white jet squatted in the middle of the runway, sunlight bouncing off its gleaming white paint.
Accompanied by the ping of kicked-up gravel, Trammel’s SUV closed on the plane. The four men huddled next to the plane’s lowered staircase straightened. As the SUV slowed and then stopped, one man stepped away from the group.
Aiden. She recognized him instantly. Six-plus feet of lean, sculpted sexiness. Broad shoulders that went on forever. A muscled, impressive chest. Flat abs and trim hips. Short, black hair gleaming beneath the late afternoon sun . He closed on the SUV with a powerful, fluid stride. Her breath caught as she watched him come. Lord, she could watch this man move all day, and bask in his power and strength.
Why was she breaking up with him again? It was hard to remember when the epitome of sexiness was headed her way. And then he was there, yanking open the passenger door and pulling her into his hard, muscular arms.
“Fuck, babe, it’s good to see you,” he whispered, his hot breath stirring the hair at her temple.
His arms tightened around her waist, sealing her against his chest. For the longest time, he simply held her, his embrace rigid and intense. Comforting.
You’re breaking up with him, remember? This warmth will vanish once he leaves again. You’ll be left with emptiness and anger and endless days to fill.
But the warning was lost within his arms, when he was embracing her like he never wanted to let her go, when his heart was a steady, comforting thump against her ear. Even the press of his gun, which was holstered just beneath his armpit, did nothing to quell the contentment. He pulled away to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. And then his mouth found hers. The kiss was tender rather than hungry. A gentle stroke against her lips, a caress brimming with relief, with the promise he’d keep her safe…that everything was going to be okay.
His gentleness, the sense of being protected…treasured…loved…melted every atom in her body. Her bones and muscles liquified. She relaxed into him. With a deep, guttural sigh, his arms tightened around her. The kiss deepened. Their tongues came out to play—teasing and stroking. His hands spread out, caressing her back, and then massaging her shoulders, before skimming down her arms.
That’s when he froze, and then pushed her away.
“What. The. Fuck?” Just like that, the tenderness was gone, replaced by a deadly growl.
Her eyes opened to his thunderous glare. His gaze was locked on her scabby arms. A thunderstorm gathered over his chiseled face. Lightning flashed in his black eyes. His index finger lightly traced one of the scabby furrows crisscrossing her right arm.
“The cat? It did this to you?” Jerking his hand back, he shoved tense fingers through his thick black hair, leaving it tousled and sexy, and turned to glare at the back of Trammel’s SUV.
Uh oh. She took a step back and cautiously glanced behind her, where enraged rumbling rose from the open cargo area. She winced. Demi thrust her body between Aiden—who radiated lethal intention—and the duct-taped kennel Tram was carrying around the corner of the SUV. She stopped in front of her soon-to-be-ex and braced a firm palm against his hard chest.
“You can’t kill my cat.” She paused as the ridiculous order hit the air. Of course he wouldn’t kill Trident over some stupid scratches. Aiden wasn’t unreasonable.
“Watch me.” The response was clipped and flat.
Okay, maybe he wasn’t as reasonable as she’d assumed.
She pushed harder against his chest. “I know you’re upset about the scratches, but they aren’t as bad as they look.” He snorted and stepped to the side. She moved to block him. “If you’re that worried about them, I’ll ask Kait to heal them.”
Not that she had any intention of following through on that promise. Hell, he probably hadn’t even heard the comment over the noisy theatrics coming from Trident’s crate. A solid thump hit the ground behind her. She turned in time to find Tram straightening and the kennel rocking and rolling before finally tipping over. She winced as the possessed howls coming from the duct-taped, plastic carrier climbed even higher.
Her hand still pressed hard against his chest; she turned back to Aiden. “Yes, he’s loud. And yes, he scratched me.” Bit her, too, but she left that out. “He’s scared and hurting and not accustomed to people. He needs understanding and kindness—not threats.”
He took a deep breath. Held it. Let it out gradually. Slowly, the muscles against her palm softened. “What the hell’s that cat doing here, anyway? Tag said you were taking him to his vet.”
Demi shrugged and eyed him cautiously. “They couldn’t take him.”
He scoffed beneath his breath. “Wouldn’t take him is more like it. He’s not getting on the plane.” His tone hardened. “He will not hurt you again.”
She stiffened and backed up several steps, her hand returning to her side. “I’m responsible for him. Where I go, he goes.”
“Tram can take him back to Coronado and drop him off at an animal shelter.” Aiden’s voice was adamant.
“Absolutely not.” Demi’s voice rose, the vet’s comment about special needs cats and the high risk of euthanasia still fresh in her mind. “A shelter would kill him. He needs help, Aiden, not a death sentence.”
Aiden split his glare between the kennel and her scabby arms. “For Christ’s sake, Demi, look what that asshole has already done to you. Cat claws are full of bacteria. You’re risking an infection.”
Her annoyance melted. His anger on her behalf, as well as his concern for her health, was kind of sweet. But she still wasn’t abandoning Trident. “He’s hurt and scared. I’m not ditching him.”
“Then we have a problem.” Aiden crossed his arms over his broad chest, his face implacable. “Because that kennel is not joining us on the plane.”
“Fine. Then I won’t be either.” Her smile was full of teeth and snark. She turned to Tram. “Would you take me to the nearest car rental agency?”
“For Christ’s sake, Demi.” Frustration flashed across Aiden’s face. “That damn cat isn’t worth your life.”
Before Demi could respond to that nonsensical argument, a minivan came flying through the gate. Aiden pivoted. In one smooth movement, he pulled his gun and stepped in front of her.
Tram pivoted as well, assessing the oncoming vehicle. “They’re friendly.” He glanced at Aiden. “Hotch’s team. They’re bringing the bastards who were after your girl. You wanted to…” he glanced at Demi “…chat with them.” He paused, arching an eyebrow. “Remember?”
With a tight grunt, Aiden reholstered his gun.
The van stopped next to the SUV. She recognized the three men who climbed out as the same men who’d stormed her condo and taken charge of her would be assailants. There hadn’t been time for introductions, since Tag had hustled her out the door and down to the street as soon as his backup had arrived.
“Hotch.” Aiden offered a single nod of acknowledgement as a blond guy, with thinning hair and no neck, swaggered toward them.
“Winchester.” Hotch nodded back. Halting, he planted his feet and braced his palms on his hips. “Nice.” He stared at the jet. “You’ve traded up.” After a moment of silent contemplation, he jerked a thumb toward the van. “Hope you get what you need from those bozos. They wouldn’t confide in us.” Grimness tightened his voice. “Do us a solid and make the bastards pay for what they did to your crew. They were our brothers too.”
A muscle twitched in Aiden’s cheek, but he simply nodded and turned toward the men watching from beside the plane. Cosky and the others must have hung back to give her and Aiden some privacy.
“Cos, Zane, Rawls, you want to give these boys a hand with our guests?” As the men he summoned headed toward them, Aiden turned back to her. “Our conversation isn’t finished,” he grated out before striding over to the van.
“Demi,” Cosky held her gaze. “Kait’s gathering everything you’ll need for the next few weeks.” He paused, his gaze dropping to the duct taped kennel. “Including cat supplies.”
“Don’t mind Aiden,” Rawls added as he followed Cosky to the van. “Dude’s had a tryin’ week.”
She recognized all three of the men who passed her. They’d been caught in the craziness three years ago when that strange, homeless lady had tried to kill Cosky…repeatedly…in front of Demi’s coffee cart.
“ Our conversation isn’t over , my ass,” Demi muttered beneath her breath as she grabbed the handle of the cat carrier.
“Let me get that for you.” The voice behind her was deep, with a rough edge, as though it wasn’t used often.
She turned and found herself staring into metallic green eyes. The guy was huge and ripped, with a couple days of golden scruff softening his hard jaw. Her gaze dropped to the mountain lion tattoo snarling from his muscled bicep. She’d seen him waiting alongside the plane when the SUV had arrived, although he hadn’t been in that loose huddle surrounding Aiden.
“And you are?” Demi asked warily, raising her voice to be heard above the growling at her feet.
“Name’s O’Neill.” He reached for the handle of the crate. Demi pushed his hand away. He straightened and studied her eyes, then ran a palm down his stubbled face. “I won’t hurt him.”
“No? Then what are you planning to do with him?”
A slow smirk spread across his face. “Sneak him on the jet while they’re distracted.”
“Why would you do that?”
He shrugged, casually scratching the corner of his jaw. “To screw with them? Because I like cats?” He shrugged again. “Take your pick. If you want him on board, we need to move. Time’s running out.”
Demi turned to check on Aiden. The van doors were still open, and he was leaning across the back seat, fighting to drag Stick Man out. O’Neill was right. Her soon-to-be-ex was completely focused on his captive.
“Okay. Let’s go.” She bent to grab the handle on the top of the crate, but O’Neill reached it first.
“I’ve got him.” He bent toward the kennel and said something she couldn’t hear.
The cat’s growling stopped mid-snarl.
While Demi was processing the timing of Trident’s sudden blessed silence, O’Neill hefted the crate and headed for the plane’s ramp in a ground-covering lope.