Two men, Rafe de Lorca and Steele Reid, are
committed as deeply to their job as they are in their love for each other.
Trained in espionage, they are killers by necessity and patriots by choice. Betrayed
by the very people they work for and on the run, will they manage to survive or
will those who are after them prevail?
Espionage agent Anders must protect Grant
Eastman and his son, Nicky, after Grant discovers information vital to national
security. Teamed with a third man they attempt to get the information into safe
hands while trying to elude those who would kill them to retrieve it.
1
"I wouldn't do that again if I were you," Rafe growled, as he grabbed the man's arm.
"You
and what army's going to stop me?" the huge man replied. His other hand
gripped the wrist of the blond beside him while he glared at Rafe.
Rafe
smiled evilly then expertly brought the man to his knees with a sharp
twist of his arm. "Army of one?" When the man struggled to regain his
feet, Rafe shook his head in disbelief and brought the edge of his hand
down fast and hard on the man's collarbone. The sharp crack of bone
breaking and the man's shout of pain told Rafe it was safe to release
him for the moment. He did not, however, take his eyes off of him as he
told the blond young man to get out of there.
"He'll… he'll just find me later," the blond told him fearfully.
Rafe cocked an eyebrow. "You his sub?"
The blond nodded, his eyes lowered.
"Not anymore. Now beat it, and next time, boy, find a Dom who'll respect you. Got it?"
"Yes, sir." With a frightened look at his now former Dom the blond scurried out of the room and closed the door behind him.
"As
for you…" Rafe ignored the man's cry of pain as he hauled him to his
feet. "You and I are going to have a long, serious talk about a certain
person I'm interested in."
* * * *
An hour later Rafe strolled casually out of the room. He had the information he needed and the man he'd 'talked'
to would undoubtedly think twice about abusing a sub again now that he
understood exactly what true pain felt like. If not, well, Rafe knew
someone who would be willing to administer another lesson to him, to
wit, the owner of this particular club.
Rafe
saluted said owner when he arrived on the ground floor of the club. The
owner tilted his head in question and Rafe nodded. After he received a
thumbs-up from the man, he left the building.
The
street was dark between the weak streetlights. Rafe waited until his
eyes had adjusted to it before he moved on, every sense alert. He heard a
brief sound behind him and whirled around, then chuckled to himself
when a large rat stared back at him defiantly before it continued on its
way.
When
he reached his car, which he had parked in a lot two blocks from the
club, he paused to consider his options. He could go after his target on
his own or call in his partner. 'No grandstanding,'
he told himself and took out his phone. A call and a quick text message
let Steele know where to meet him. When Steele texted back to
acknowledge he'd be there, Rafe closed his phone, slid into his car, and
took off.
The two men met a few minutes later in an alley behind the sleazy hotel where their target was holed up.
After checking their respective weapons, Steele asked, "Which room?"
"Four
sixteen," Rafe replied as he began to work on the locked backdoor of
the hotel. When he got it open he stepped aside to let Steele in, joined
him, and they moved quickly and silently up the fire stairs. Upon
reaching the fourth floor they paused long enough to get their bearings
then moved in tandem to the room they wanted. Rafe tested the door
handle and knelt to deal with the lock. A quiet click told him he
succeeded.
Steele
swung the door open. He moved his gun right to left as Rafe did the
same from his kneeling position. Dim light from the far window let them
see the man in one of the beds as he jerked awake and reached under his
pillow. Steele fired, his silenced gun making a small popping sound. The
man froze when the bullet whistled by his ear.
"That wasn't a miss," Steele told him softly as he pointed his gun at the man's chest.
Rafe
crossed the room quickly and removed the pistol the man had been
reaching for from under the pillow. "Nice, something to add to our
collection," he murmured with a smirk as he stuck it in his waistband.
"You, up," Steele ordered the man.
"Who the hell are you and what do you want," the man growled as he complied.
"We're just the transportation system. Someone wants a few words with you," Steele told him. "Get dressed."
"How much to forget you found me?" the man asked as he picked up a pair of slacks laid out neatly on the other bed.
"You couldn't afford it," Rafe replied with a small chuckle.
"Tell me."
"A mil each."
The man snorted. "Think highly of yourselves, don't you?"
"We'd need that much and more to go into hiding if we let you go," Rafe said seriously.
"Enough with the banter. Finish dressing and let's get on our way," Steele barked out.
The
man did. When he was ready he stepped toward the door, and Steele.
Suddenly he was a blur of fists and feet as he attacked. Steele
countered easily, deftly avoiding the worst of what the man threw at him
while Rafe watched with an amused smile on his face. The fight was over
almost before it began, the man prone on the floor with Steele's knee
in the small of his back.
Rafe
stooped to pick up Steele's gun from where it had slid under the desk.
Then he handed Steele a pair of cuffs, which immediately went around the
man's wrists.
Steele stood, pulled the man up and swung him around. "Got that out of your system now?"
"I had to try," the man replied.
"Can't blame you for that."
