Forged in Steele (KGI #7)

Forged in Steele (KGI #7) Page 24

Rio eyed him speculatively, staring at him a long moment as if trying to peel back the layers in Steele’s mind. Good luck with that. Steele returned his stare, not backing down one inch. He didn’t flinch. Then Rio quirked one eyebrow upward.

“Maybe Grace was right,” he muttered.

Steele’s eyes narrowed. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

Rio shook his head. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Can we get on with it?” Steele ground out. “We don’t have time for this shit. Just tell me where I need to be so me and my team can get on the road.”

Rio blew out his breath. “There’s a problem with that. Hancock will only deal with me. Says if anyone else shows, it’s no deal. I know you won’t like it, but I’m going to have to go. You and your team can be on standby while I retrieve Maren.”

“Hell no,” Steele burst out.

Several disagreements were voiced in the room.

Garrett had a pinched look on his face. Sam was shaking his head and Donovan’s expression was dark.

“How the hell do you know this isn’t a trap?” Sam asked. “You and this guy have history, Rio. What if he’s using Maren to take you out? How do you even know he’s telling the truth about any of this?”

“I don’t know,” Rio said calmly. “It’s a chance I have to take.”

“I don’t like it,” Donovan muttered. “This reeks of a setup.”

“He’s not going alone,” Terrence said, speaking for the first time.

“Hell no, he isn’t,” Steele broke in. “Me and my team will be there.”

Rio held up his hands for silence. “Look, Hancock is a cagey, paranoid bastard with ice in his veins. I don’t doubt for one second that he’ll pull the plug on this if I show up with two teams. Yeah, my team goes. Where I go, they go. Hancock will know this. Even if I’m at the meeting place alone, he’ll know I never go anywhere without my team. Steele, you and your team are going to have to hang back with Terrence and the others whether you like it or not. Once I have Maren, we’ll pull out and hook up with you as soon as I have her safe.”

“So he’s just going to give us Maren and expect us not to give a fuck that Mendoza or Caldwell or whatever the fuck he calls himself is still out there and a threat to Maren?” Steele asked.

Rio nodded. “Yeah, that’s exactly what he wants. He’s risking his mission to get Maren out, which is highly uncharacteristic of him. He won’t hesitate to pull the plug on the entire thing if he even thinks we’re planning to move against Caldwell before he’s ready to shut Caldwell down himself. I know it goes against your grain to stand down, Steele, but that’s exactly what we’re going to have to do if we want Maren back and out of harm’s way.”

Steele’s jaw clenched until his teeth felt ready to break. Hell yeah, it went against his grain to just walk away and let the bastard who’d abducted Maren go free. He wanted the bastard taken down where he’d no longer pose a threat to her. But first and foremost he wanted Maren out of Caldwell’s grasp, and if he had to sit on his hands for the time being, then it was what he’d have to do. As long as he got Maren back, Caldwell and Hancock could go fuck themselves.

“You tell your buddy that if he fucks us on this, I’ll hunt his ass down. I’ll devote the rest of my life to hunting him down and taking him out,” Steele said in an icy voice.

Rio raised one eyebrow. “I’ll let him know.”

“Now where the hell are we going?” Steele asked.

“Kosovo,” Rio replied grimly.

CHAPTER 21

MAREN sensed the presence of someone in her bedroom and woke through the heavy veil of sleep just as a hand clamped down over her mouth. Her shriek was muffled and her entire body went rigid, prepared to defend itself.

Her instant thought was that Tristan had come to her bedroom, that her time was up, and that he was making his move. She struggled under the firm hand and then another went to her throat, squeezing lightly. It wasn’t hurtful, but the pressure prevented her from moving.

“Be quiet, Maren. I’m not going to hurt you. I need you to wake up. Above all, remain silent. Nod if you understand me.”

Armand’s voice filtered through her panic and she nodded. His hand loosened but hovered close in case she attempted to scream again. Who would save her? Certainly not Tristan, although he might not be pleased to find his guard in Maren’s bedroom in the middle of the night.

“Sit up. You have to hurry. Get dressed. Take nothing with you.”

She did as he said and glanced at the bedside clock to see it was just a few minutes past midnight.

“What’s going on?” she hissed. “What are you doing here? And where am I going?”

“There’s no time for questions,” he said impatiently. “Get dressed or you’ll have to go in your nightclothes. Wear something warm. It’s cooler where we’re going.”

She grabbed his arm as he started to move away from the bed. “Tell me what’s going on. You expect me to blindly trust you? Did Tristan order this?”

He turned back to her, his voice calm. “I’m getting you out of here. But if you don’t hurry we’ll lose our window of opportunity. It’s my guard shift and the others are sleeping except for the guards patrolling the estate, and we have to time our exit just right so we aren’t seen. You have exactly twelve minutes to get dressed and get the hell out of this house or you stay here. Your choice.”

When put like that, she wasn’t going to argue. No, she didn’t trust Armand, but he had been kind to her, and if he was getting her out of her prison, she wasn’t going to protest. She just hoped to hell she wasn’t jumping from the frying pan straight into the fire.

She scrambled up and went to her closet, tearing off the silk pajamas. She paid no heed to modesty. She doubted Armand was looking anyway. Not bothering with a bra, she pulled on a T-shirt and jeans, gifts from Tristan. She hated to take anything at all that he’d given her, but she had nothing else to wear.

She pulled on socks and a pair of boots and then reached for one of the fur-lined jackets Tristan had provided. She hadn’t given it a thought before, but it was obvious he’d planned for her to remain with him long term because he’d purchased items she’d need in colder weather and it had been cool but not cold wherever they were so far.

No matter what Armand’s motives were, if he offered her a way to escape, she was grabbing it with both hands.

Returning from the closet, she whispered, “I’m ready. Where are we, Armand? Tristan never said and I’ve not been allowed outside long enough to get any idea where the hell this place is.”

“Kosovo,” he returned grimly.

“Kosovo?” she squeaked. “Oh my God. I don’t even know exactly where Kosovo is on the map, and I’ve traveled extensively. All I can tell you is that it’s in Eastern Europe somewhere.”

“It doesn’t matter. In a few hours you’ll be long gone from here and it’s advisable you never return.”

“No shit,” she muttered. “It’s not going to make a place on my future vacation hot spots, that’s for damn sure.”

He grabbed her arm. “Let’s go. You stay absolutely silent. Not one word. You listen to me and follow my orders at all times. If I say get down, you drop immediately. Are we clear?”

There was a thread of steel in his voice. She wasn’t sure how she’d ever gained the impression that he was nice. Right now he sounded ice cold. Not at all like the man who’d brought her pregnancy books and chocolate. Or someone who’d fussed at her for not taking better care of herself.

She followed him into the hallway outside her bedroom, and it was then she noticed the gun in his shoulder holster. There was another on his hip. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried over that fact. At least he had some protection in case they got caught, but she didn’t relish being caught in the middle of a gunfight. She mentally said a prayer that they’d slip out undetected and make it safely to wherever they were going.

He paused a moment as if listening for any sound below. Then he herded her down the stairway, keeping his finger to his lips to motion her to maintain strict silence. As if she needed to be told. If he was getting her out of here, she’d do anything he said.

He led her through the kitchen and out the door leading onto the terrace. From there they took a set of winding stone stairs that led to an open, fenced yard. He pressed her to the side of the house and held his palm firmly over her chest. They stood for a long moment until Maren saw a shadowy figure fade to the right and around the far corner of the house. She let out a long breath of relief, but his hand pressed harder against her. A silent command for her to remain quiet and absolutely still.

Another figure followed in the same path as the first. She would have already gotten herself caught. Apparently stealth and escape were not her strong points. Thank God Armand had more skill than she did.

A dozen panicked questions swirled in her mind as he led her through the back gate and into the dense vegetation beyond the fenced-in enclosure. Was he just going to dump her somewhere outside the boundary of the house and leave her to go it alone? Yes, she wanted to be free, but somehow wandering around Kosovo in the middle of the night didn’t fill her with any relief. She had no passport, no identification, no phone, no way to get anywhere at all.

When they moved beyond the first line of trees, he whispered, “Pick up the pace or I’ll have to carry you and that’ll slow us both down.”

She immediately quickened her step, matching his stride the best she could. Lucky for her she wasn’t so heavy with child that it had reduced her walk to a waddle. Though she hadn’t gotten much exercise in the last several weeks. She’d spent her time locked in seclusion. She was already out of breath from the exertion of the fast walk.

After an interminable amount of time, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to keep up her current pace. She had a stitch in her side and her hip was cramping.

“How much farther?” she whispered. “I’m not trying to be a pain, I swear, but I can’t keep this up much longer.”

In response he merely stopped, swept her up into his arms and then set off at a rapid clip. The man was obviously in tip-top shape. Despite his warning that carrying her would slow them both down, he kept up an insane pace. She swore he was walking faster now that he wasn’t having to wait for her.

He made carrying her weight seem effortless. Who was this guy anyway? He worked for a guy like Tristan, but he did nice things for her and had sworn he wouldn’t let Tristan harm her or her child. And it looked as though he was keeping his word. He’d risked a lot to help her escape. Tristan would be furious when he discovered her gone, and once he discovered Armand gone as well, he’d rapidly put two and two together.

“He’ll kill you for this,” she whispered. “You know that, don’t you?”

She saw his smile in the dim moonlight streaming through the trees. It wasn’t a friendly smile. It had the look of a predator about to pounce on his prey. She shivered because the man looked decidedly dangerous. Somehow she thought he could hold his own against a man like Tristan Caldwell.

“You let me worry about Caldwell,” Armand said simply. “He won’t be happy, but I’ll take care of that.”

“You’re going back?” she asked in shock. “Are you crazy?”

“My job’s not finished,” he clipped out.

Another dozen questions burned on her tongue, but his grip tightened around her, a warning for her not to push further. Oh well, if he was crazy enough to go back to Tristan after helping her escape, that was his problem.

He must have sensed her thoughts. “Does the expression ‘don’t look a gift horse in the mouth’ mean anything to you?”

He had a solid point.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I don’t know why you did this, but I’m grateful. I was scared out of my mind.”

“I know,” he said simply. “And I had my reasons.”

He fell silent and she didn’t pursue the matter any further.

After what seemed like hours, he carried her into a small clearing, where a black helicopter was resting a short distance away. As soon as they came into view, the helicopter roared to life and the rotors began spinning, kicking up dust and leaves. She turned her face into Armand’s chest to shield her eyes from the debris.

A second later he deposited her inside the helicopter and hopped up beside her.

“Put your belt on,” he yelled over the noise. “Make sure it’s tight. Don’t want you falling out.”

Yeah, neither did she. She secured her seat belt, and for good measure she latched onto his arm. He didn’t pull away from her and instead transferred her hand to his thigh and then wrapped the arm she’d gripped around her shoulders, anchoring her tightly to his side.