Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
T rying to stay calm, Saskia watched Cam hurry around the cabin, collecting their things.
“We need to hide the fact that we were here.” His voice was grim.
“Can we outrun them?” she asked.
His turbulent, green gaze met hers. “No.”
“So, what do we do?”
“Hide and fight. I need you hidden. Whatever happens, don’t come out.”
Her stomach curdled. “And you?”
“I fight.” He opened the front door and waved her out.
Once again, her man would risk himself for her.
“Cam—”
He yanked her in for a savage, possessive kiss. “Please, Saskia. I need you safe. If something happens to me, you have to stay hidden until Vander finds you.”
She could barely breathe. If something happens to me… He said those words so matter-of-factly.
She gripped the lapels of his jacket and surprise flared in his eyes.
“ Nothing had better happen to you, Cam. After this, you’re going to marry me. I’m moving to San Francisco, and we’re going to live happily ever after, in love, having excellent sex, and one day, in the future, you’re going to give me babies.”
She took a second to enjoy his expression—like he’d been hit in the head with a steel beam. Then she kissed him again. “Stay safe, Cam. Your family and friends need you. I need you.”
His hands flexed on her, an intense look in his eyes. Like everything he was feeling was tangled up inside and he couldn’t get it out.
She heard the revving sound of the approaching engines.
“Get under the cabin, sweetheart.” He led her to the porch. “And take the pack.”
She dropped to her knees. “Do you have a gun?”
He shook his head. “But I have a knife. Now go.”
She wiggled under the cabin. The ground was cold, and there were a lot of spiderwebs. She guessed a spider or two were better than Mikhailov any day.
Cam crouched and handed her the backpack. The look on his face seared her with its intensity.
Then he rose and was gone.
Like a ghost.
Saskia crawled a little farther, then curled around an old wooden footing. She tried to stay calm, but that was proving impossible.
Then, the sound of engines grew louder.
She blew out a shaky breath. Her heart pounded in her ears.
The ATVs roared in, stopping in front of the cabin. She peered out, and watched denim-clad legs swing off the vehicles.
“Rogers, Ivanov, check the cabin.”
Saskia went rigid at the voice. Mikhailov .
She saw lots of pairs of rugged boots walking around. Two men thumped up the steps and into the cabin.
“They must be close,” Mikhailov said. “The woman can’t have gotten far.”
One of the guards spat on the ground. “She has someone helping her.”
“And she will be holding him back.”
Saskia clenched her hands together. There were three ATVs. Five guards and Mikhailov.
Cam was outnumbered.
“There’s no one inside, boss.”
Whoever was talking was American.
“But it looks like there was some disturbance,” another man said, his accent definitely Russian. “Could’ve been them.”
She watched Mikhailov’s shiny, clean boots take a few steps. “Search the area for any sign of them.”
Her stomach turned over. She wished they would just go . She willed them to leave.
Instead, all six men fanned out around the cabin.
God, Cam.
She rested her forehead against the rough wood. If any of the guards looked under the cabin, they’d likely spot her.
One man circled the cabin. Suddenly, she heard a noise. As she watched, she saw someone grab him. There was a quick scuffle, and the guard was dragged into the trees.
Cam .
“Hey, Alek, anything?” Another guard circled around the shack. She watched the man’s feet stop, and he turned in a circle. “Alek? Where the fuck are you?”
The others all hurried around. One guard crouched and Saskia stiffened. If he turned his head, he’d see her.
“There are scuff marks in the dirt.” The man rose.
“They’re here!” Mikhailov exclaimed. “ Find them. I want the woman.”
Around the other side of the cabin, she saw movement. Cam was doing something to the ATVs. Then he was gone again.
“I’ll take an ATV and do a loop,” the American guard said. “They could be on the run.”
The guard leaped onto one of the bikes. Nothing happened.
“ Fuck . It won’t start.”
“Check the others,” Mikhailov shouted.
“Nothing. The son of a bitch tampered with them.”
Mikhailov growled. “Find them!”
The guards strode out to the trees. Saskia followed one with her gaze. He stepped into the trees, and something fell on him. She saw Cam ride the man to the ground, then quickly slice with a knife. The guard slumped, and didn’t even have a chance to make a sound.
Then Cam dissolved into the woods.
“Yuri! Yuri is down.” Three of the guards raced over to the fallen man.
“Throat’s cut,” one of them snapped.
She sensed the tension in the men. Saskia bit her lip. There were only three guards to go.
She felt a trickle of hope. If anyone could do this, it was Cam.
“ There . I saw something in the trees.”
Gunfire erupted. Saskia clamped her hands over her ears.
“There he is!”
Cursing in Russian. “Shoot the asshole.”
She heard running steps. Boots raced past the cabin.
Her chest hitched. Cam .
There was more gunfire. She spotted his boots, then saw him jerk and go down on one knee.
No . Was he hit? How bad?
He didn’t look her way. There was blood running down his arm.
Cam . She willed him to get up.
Then the three guards were on him. They kicked and hit him.
Saskia winced. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.
“Bring him,” Mikhailov yelled.
Two of the guards hauled Cam up and dragged him over to Mikhailov.
* * *
Cam jerked against the guards holding him. One rammed a vicious punch into his lower back.
Gritting his teeth, he rode through the pain. He’d had plenty of training and experience at it.
As long as they didn’t find Saskia, everything would be fine.
The two guards he’d killed were laid out by the disabled ATVs.
Mikhailov stepped forward.
He didn’t look quite as neat and put together as he usually did. He was bundled up in a thick coat, his face lined with stress.
“Where is the woman?” the man asked.
Cam didn’t make a sound.
Mikhailov’s face twisted. “My men know many ways to inflict pain.”
Cam just stared impassively.
“Hmm.” Mikhailov paced. “There is no need for your blood to spill, Mr. Morgan. Just tell me where she is.”
Cam waited him out. These assholes always liked the sound of their own voices.
Mikhailov grunted and waved a hand.
The third guard stepped in and punched Cam in the gut.
He groaned. That wasn’t fun.
“I know you’ve had military training. I promise you, it won’t help. My uncle was former FSB, or KGB as it was known in his time.” Mikhailov’s smile was slow. “I know lots of tricks.”
Cam just lifted his chin.
“You are a noble man.” Mikhailov nodded, like a friendly, understanding uncle. “You feel the need to protect women. I know you were in some secret American military team, but it won’t help you now. You’re all alone.”
“Secret team?” the American guard asked.
“I could not find all the information.” Mikhailov waved a hand. “Some rumors said it was called Ghost Ops.”
The American jerked. “Ghost Ops. Fuck .”
The guard blanched and Cam hid his satisfaction. You should be afraid.
“Do not worry,” Mikhailov said. “He is not so scary now.”
“Ghost Ops…they can do anything.” The American guard sounded shaken.
“Pfft, he is outnumbered.” Mikhailov stepped closer. “You can’t protect her from me. I will have her.”
“You can’t have her,” Cam said. “Because she’s mine. She’s been warming my bed, taking my cock. Mine. Always will be.”
Mikhailov growled. A vein in his temple throbbed. He turned to the guard beside him and took the man’s hunting knife.
“You should not have touched my dancer, Mr. Morgan.”
The older man ran the tip of the knife across Cam’s unscarred cheek. It stung.
“I think you need another scar here. Even things up.”
Cam forced himself to stay still.
“My uncle said the best way to convince people to talk is to keep things simple. Slice off an ear—” the knife moved past Cam’s ear, then down the side of his neck.
“Nose. Or other vulnerable body parts.” The knife moved lower.
Then Mikhailov jammed it against Cam’s genitals. He couldn’t help but jerk.
“No man wants to lose his cock and balls, Mr. Morgan. And out here, you’ll bleed to death.”
The knife pressed in harder. Cam made a choked noise.
“Where is she?”
Cam just stared, not uttering a sound.
“Take his pants off.” Mikhailov laughed. “I’ll start with his balls.”
Cam bucked, trying to fight the guard off as the man reached for his belt.
“Stop. Stop!”
No, dammit . His muscles solidified. “Saskia, no. Run .”
She crawled out from under the cabin, covered in dirt. She held her hands up, her face a mask of terror.
“Don’t hurt him,” she cried.
“Saskia.” Mikhailov turned to her. “Finally.” The man strode to her. “You’ve made my life very difficult.”
“Your life?” Her eyes sparked. “ You kidnapped me , you shit-for-brains asshole. You’re a rapist.”
Mikhailov sucked in a breath.
“You think you’re special because you have lots of dirty money?” she continued. “The only way you can get a woman is to steal her, against her will. You are scum.”
Then he sank a hand into her hair and tugged. She cried out.
“Be quiet!” he snarled.
Cam jerked, and the two guards tightened their grip on him.
“I want payback.” Mikhailov lifted his other hand, yanked her coat’s zipper down, and reached inside to roughly paw at her breast.
Growling, Cam wrenched free, but the guards tackled him, driving him to the ground.
Two boots pressed into his back, keeping him pinned.
Mikhailov’s smile was smug and pleased.
“Now, I need to decide. Do I take you here, in the dirt, and make him watch? Or do I make you watch while I put a bullet in his brain?”
Saskia cried out.
Mikhailov took a handgun from one of his guards.
Fuck. Fuck . Cam tensed, his mind racing. He searched for a way out. If he died, Saskia would be left in Mikhailov’s hands. That was unacceptable.
He’d failed Kris, but there was no way he’d fail again. No way he’d fail Saskia.
He searched for any chance to attack.
But Saskia beat him to it.
She lunged and grabbed for the handgun.
She surprised the man, snatching it away from Mikhailov. She whirled, lifting it with both hands. She fired at the guards. The bullet came close to Cam, but thankfully hit one of his captors.
One guy dived away and the guy who’d been hit jerked back with a shocked yell. Cam broke free, rolled, and landed a hard kick to the other guard’s midsection.
The man flew back.
Cam leaped up and whirled. Saskia was playing tug-of-war with Mikhailov for the gun.
The other guard, the American, stood frozen, not sure what to do.
Cam attacked him. But he only got one hard punch in before the man recovered. They traded blows.
Then a gunshot echoed through the clearing.
Saskia.
Cam ducked, and landed another desperate hit. The guard doubled over with a grunt. Cam spun.
Mikhailov was clutching a bleeding arm. Saskia was still holding the gun.
“Get them!” Mikhailov screamed.
Cam raced toward Saskia. A guard tackled her. She hit the ground with a bone rattling force.
Cam kneed the man, but the guard with a bullet wound reappeared. He rammed the barrel of a gun into Cam’s lower back.
“Don’t move,” the man growled.
Freezing, Cam choked back a curse.
The other guard dragged a dazed Saskia to her feet. Her gaze met Cam’s.
There was defiance still there. He held her gaze.
“ Blyad .” Mikhailov threw a hand up while his other one stayed pressed over the wound on his arm, blood oozing through his fingers. “ Enough . She’s too much trouble.” He sniffed. “Kill them both.”