Chapter 14
Lane realized his mistake as soon as Claudia called. He should’ve stayed on track and talked to Cassie about this entire mess before giving into passion last night.
What a mood killer that would’ve been.
Once she’d kissed him, he’d forgotten everything else anyway. He’d felt safe without confirming whether or not it was true. It was a miracle Welker hadn’t attacked while they were so vulnerable. Apparently, the bastard had been too busy beating up the resort employee. And now, he was too confident in his advantage. Troy Welker was no strategic genius. He was reactive. An impulsive bully who believed his own press and bravado.
Today would not go his way.
“Kian is at the gatehouse,” Lane explained. “He’ll let Troy through, or duke it out right there if necessary.” Lane really hoped it wouldn’t be necessary, because he wanted to deliver Welker to the FBI personally. “Waylen is downstairs with extra firepower.”
Cassie’s eyes went round for just a moment. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“You shouldn’t?” His friends had been. To hear them talk, he was practically the poster child for being unreliable these past months. They weren’t entirely wrong.
“No.” She grinned at him before ducking into the fridge for something to eat. Pulling out the fruit and cheese, she motioned for him to hand her a couple of plates.
“I need you to elaborate,” he said.
“You’re fishing for compliments.”
“Fishing is Waylen’s thing.” He watched her plate up a decent breakfast. “Why aren’t you surprised?”
“From the start, you’ve been focused and professional.” She tilted her head, her nose wrinkling. “Not from the beach start. From the start of the search for Josie,” she clarified. “I admit I was disappointed Hawk sent you, but I was wrong and I recognized it right away.”
He chuckled. “Right away, huh? You didn’t show it right away.”
“I was preoccupied, if you recall.”
He recalled. He recalled every single minute since he’d spotted her on that beach. And although he didn’t enjoy the idea of her in any kind of danger, he treasured every second they’d been together.
“Fair enough.” His phone buzzed. “That’s Waylen.” He stuffed a slice of papaya into his mouth, chewing and swallowing in a hurry. “You ready?”
Her phone chimed as well. “Claudia,” she said. “Troy is on the move. Three men total. She sent a picture.” Cassie came around so they could look at her phone together.
Welker was driving a big SUV, likely loaded with weapons. He was tempted to tip off the local cops, but that probably wouldn’t end well. The goal was to avoid injuring more bystanders. Besides, all the first responders on this island were coping with various volcano-induced crises.
It was up to him and Cassie, with the help of Waylen and Kian, to finish this.
“At this early hour, they’ll be here in less than twenty minutes.”
Cassie nodded, her expression somber. “And once we hand them over to the FBI, we can head for the lagoon and relax.”
He suspected they would earn that relaxation. “I like the way you think.” He brushed his lips over hers. “It’s a date.”
“Our first date without any weapons?”
“Yeah. I think that’s a good goal.”
Shoving aside the happier thoughts of first dates and the implication of second and third dates to follow, he opened the door for Waylen.
“Coffee?” Cassie offered.
“I’m good, thanks.” Waylen glanced at Lane, clearly surprised by Cassie’s cheery offer. “I brought some extra intel in addition to the ammunition.”
“What do you mean?” Cassie retrieved her guns from her luggage and joined them at the dining table.
“A friend of mine is stationed at the Pentagon. I called in a favor based on Lane’s theory.”
“The theory that Troy Welker is trying to convince his brother not to cut him off?” she asked.
“That’s the one,” Waylen said. He unzipped a backpack, revealing boxes of ammunition for each of their weapons.
She frowned, peering into the backpack. “Do I want to know?”
“No biggie.” Lane handed her a pre-loaded clip for her handgun.
“Hawk keeps a good stock,” Waylen confirmed.
Lane could practically see her internal debate. She was second-guessing what they were about to do. “It won’t be a shootout.” He ignored the skepticism that flitted over Waylen’s face, instead focusing on Cassie. “I won’t let it come to that.”
She shook her head. “It’s not entirely your choice. We’ve seen what Welker’s capable of.”
“Which is how I know we can stop him,” Lane said. “He’s not expecting us to have any backup. He believes he has the element of surprise.”
“Lane’s right,” Waylen said. “Guy is cocky as hell. My Pentagon contact knows about a client on the Welker roster who was dissatisfied with the service provided for personal security. Extremely so.”
“What happened?” Cassie asked as she finished loading her guns and tucking a spare clip into her pockets.
“Turns out the Welker bodyguard disappeared from his post. He claims he got lost.” Waylen rolled his eyes. “In the meantime, the client got caught up in the very altercation they’d hired Welker to prevent. Client was in the middle of a nasty divorce.”
“When?” Cassie planted her hands on her hips. “Any idea where the bodyguard went?”
“Oddly enough, my friend has footage of Welker’s guy near Mrs. Knowles’s offices.”
Lane watched the color drain from Cassie’s face. “Sit down,” he murmured.
She held out a hand, preventing any assistance. “Before or after Drake and I came on board?”
“Before,” Waylen replied. “Likely that’s one of the creepy moments that convinced her to hire protection.”
A siren sounded, muted, but in the room. Lane waved his hand and pulled out his phone. “That’s the alert from Kian at the gatehouse. Troy Welker plus two. We need to get set.”
“Right.” Waylen pulled out a handful of plastic zip ties. “Don’t forget these. I’m sure the feds want these jerks alive.”
“I’m sure they do,” Cassie muttered. “Drake went home in a body bag. I’ll be damned if Welker goes home first class.”
Lane saw Waylen’s brows arch in admiration of her attitude and smothered his smile. Cassie was feisty and a fighter to the bone. Moreover, she was a survivor. They’d get through this. And it wouldn’t come down to a hail of bullets. As much as he wanted to protect her, there was a comfort knowing she could protect herself.
“Kian will move to disable their SUV and cover the front,” Waylen said. “I’m out back.”
“Make sure they get up here,” Cassie called after him. “I want Welker to know exactly who is taking him down.”
Lane managed to smother his reaction until Waylen closed the front door. “Don’t tell me you’ll offer him coffee,” he said when they were alone. “I’m not up for some touchy-feely scene. I want a piece of him.”
“That makes two of us,” she confirmed. “He thinks he has us cornered. Let him believe it.”
He followed her back to the bathroom, where she turned on the shower. “Blind canyon ploy. He can’t afford a loud scene. He’ll leap on the chance to take us in the shower. Once we get them in here, we’ve got control.”
He had to agree with the tactic. And it was too late to change anything. She headed for the closet and he ducked behind the bedroom door.
Lane felt the seconds ticking by. Slowly, each one separated from the next. The familiar sensation often happened during his team missions. His body knew what to do and how to do it.
Objectivity wasn’t so easy to maintain this time, even with his pals backing them up. He was edgy because of Cassie. But she needed him sharp. Focused. And as steady as a SEAL should be.
He heard the pop of the lock on the front door breaking. So far, Welker was doing exactly what they’d expected.
The voices were too low to fully understand as they cleared the main, open-concept areas of the condo. Lane could fill in the blanks, having cleared many a building during his career. He waited, wondering what Cassie could hear from the closet.
What he wouldn’t give for an earpiece right now. There was nothing so lonely as anticipating the fight without someone chattering in his ear. He wondered if his friends would say the same. It wasn’t something they discussed.
Maybe he’d bring it up over drinks some time. Right now, it was showtime.
The leader—had to be Welker—paused at the threshold. He raised his gun, but didn’t enter the room. “Shower,” he said to the man behind him. “Easier than fish in a barrel.”
He lowered his gun, striding forward.
Lane held his position, prayed Cassie would do the same. Once Welker was in the bathroom, she could lock him inside while Lane handled the other two men.
Welker made it to the bathroom and Cassie leapt into action. He’d expected her to pull the door closed, but she followed him inside and slammed the door behind her.
Lane’s heart lurched. That wasn’t the plan. Except they hadn’t planned much of anything. Not in enough detail. No time to dwell on the shouts and sounds as she and Welker fought. He had to subdue the man who’d kept watch at the door. The man stepped forward and Lane slammed the door, knocking the gun out of his hands. To his shock, the man dropped to his knees. “Don’t shoot! I’m sorry! Sorry! Don’t shoot!”
Had to be a trap. This wasn’t the newbie. Lane approached cautiously while the guy kept up the pathetic litany. “Face down,” Lane barked.
The guy flopped down, face in the carpet, then suddenly flipped over and sprang to his feet. Lane’s stress faded as the guy lunged. This was exactly what he needed. He tossed his gun to the bed and let himself get tackled, rolling until he was on top again. With a knee in the guy’s diaphragm, he pummeled the guy’s face, dodging a few wild blows in the process.
A gun blasted, shattering the sliding glass door behind him. Hell, he’d forgotten about the third man. The first shot was followed by two more bursts. He smelled blood, thankfully not his, as bullets chattered into the walls across the room.
The skirmish in the bathroom suddenly went quiet.
Cassie!
Lane was done screwing around. Using his opponent as a shield, he swiveled around. There was the newbie, on the balcony, his gun shaking. Not good. Not good.
“Spotter!” Lane called out. “Welcome to the party.”
Lane shoved the man he’d been fighting through the splintered glass door. The momentum took down both men. Lane leapt for the bed. Waylen or Kian would be here any second. They would’ve mobilized at the first sound of gunfire.
Grabbing his gun, he crashed through the bathroom door, fearing the worst.
Cassie was on the floor, facing away from him. The back of her shirt was soaked with blood.
His heart stopped. Too much blood. She couldn’t die. Not here, not over something as stupid as Welker’s plans. “How bad?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Bad.”
He hauled her up and away and she blinked rapidly. “No, not me.” She gripped his arms. “Not me.” She shook him off. “Welker.”
The jerk was coughing up blood as Cassie dropped back to his side, applying pressure to what must be the worst injury. Lane called for an ambulance while he analyzed the chaos in the bathroom. Cassie and Welker had gone at it. The mirror was busted up. The glass door of the shower was leaning, off its track, but otherwise intact.
Welker’s bald head was bleeding from several cuts. Lane wanted to give Cassie a high five for that alone. His knuckles were raw and one hand was swelling. Cassie must’ve stomped on it. One eye was already turning purple and the man’s nose was crooked. Lane could see Welker had taken a bullet in one arm and another had caught him in the side, under the bulletproof vest he wore.
“Friendly fire. Too bad for me,” he said, kneeling. He grabbed Welker’s head to look him in the eyes. “You’re a damn coward.”
“FBI,” Cassie said, her breath short. “Call them.”
“You are hurt,” Lane accused. “What did he do?”
“Not what he came to do,” she said. “If he lives, we can visit him in prison and gloat about it then.”
She made a good point. He left her to Welker, the man was no threat now, and went in search of Waylen and Kian. As he’d expected, his friends had the other two attackers cuffed and secured to the balcony railing while they awaited the FBI’s arrival.
“Well done,” he said to his friends.
“Cassie’s good?” Kian asked.
“The best,” Lane assured him. “Welker didn’t stand a chance.”
It was over. To his relief and delight, the FBI was on the scene quickly and they didn’t waste a lot of time on statements. Lane chalked up that convenience to Claudia and whatever strings the Guardian Agency and Hawk had pulled behind the scenes.
Once the paramedics treated Cassie’s minor wounds, they were free to go.
“Where to?” he asked her.
“The resort.” She tapped her phone. “Claudia sent me a reservation number. The Guardian Agency is footing the bill for another week, pure vacation time.” She tilted her face up to his. “I could use some advice from a vacay expert.”
He drew her into his arms. “I know just the guy.” His lips feathered over her cheek, her mouth. “Fair warning, Hawk or the guys might need me to lend a hand as the island recovers.”
“Of course. And I’m willing to help where I can.”
“We’ll see.” He wasn’t sure he could deal with her charging headlong into another fight. She could hold her own, but she held his heart too. “You were incredible in there.”
“You didn’t even see anything,” she countered.
He swayed a bit, loving the feel of her in his arms. Loving her. “I saw enough.” He’d seen her try to save the man who wanted her dead. She was remarkable.
“I know you have a room,” she said, her fingers tracing the pattern on his shirt. “But if you want, you could share mine.”
“Looking for twenty-four-seven vacation expertise?”
She pressed up closer and he would’ve sworn he heard her purr. “With you, absolutely.”
The sweet, sexy smile that curled her mouth before she kissed him gave him hope that their upcoming first date would be the start of something fantastic and lasting.