Romeo, p.4
Romeo, page 4
Knowing Missy would bark in warning if someone was approaching, I still moved as quickly as possible.
First reclining the driver seat, then opening the rear driver’s side door, I yanked the dead driver into the back seat. Sliding behind the wheel, I raised the front windows, pulled the SUV into the parking spot next to the Defender and cut the engine. Opening the rear, I picked up the dead guard lying on the ground and heaved him into the back. Nothing I could do about the bloodstain on the concrete, I slammed the liftgate, rounded the side and grabbed the two phones sitting on the center console. Removing the SIM cards and crushing them, I tossed the debris into the back of the vehicle. Carefully wiping down everywhere I’d touched with my T-shirt before leaving the key inside, I hit the lock button and slammed the door shut.
Getting behind the wheel of the Defender, tossing the T-shirt behind my seat, I ignored the shell-shocked woman in the back who was staring at me and cranked the engine.
Her raspy voice came at me with a frightened stutter. “Y-you can’t drive with the cover on.”
Sparing her a glance as I braced a hand on the passenger seat and looked out the rear window, I backed out of the space. “I’m not. We’re moving parking spots.”
“W-why?”
No time to assess whether she was in shock or scared, I cut to the chase. “You cold again?”
She cleared her throat. “No.”
Scared. “Good. Hang on.” I spun the Defender, drove down the aisle and pulled into a parking spot at the end. By the time I threw it into park, cut the engine and opened my door, Missy was running toward me, barking once in warning.
Grabbing my gun, I glanced at the woman. “Wait, and don’t make a sound. Someone’s coming. I’ll let you know when we’re clear.” Getting out, I held the door open. “Missy, car.” She jumped in, and I gave her the hand signal for silent before quietly closing the door and quickly pulling the cover back down.
Gun in hand, squatting behind the SUV, I watched a couple come out of the stairwell.
Laughing, not paying attention to the covered Defender or the black SUV, they made their way to a vehicle parked halfway down the aisle. A minute later, they were gone.
Lifting the cover, I opened the rear door of the Defender.
Two pairs of eyes met mine. One terrified, one excited.
Missy thumped her tail, then licked the woman.
The woman stared at the gun in my hand.
I leveled with her. “Two of the guards are down, but there was another vehicle. I doubt we have more than a few minutes before the second SUV finds us. Less, if anyone heard the shots. Kentworth had people watching my plane, and my Defender is the only one like it on the island. That means your options for getting out of here are limited.”
“Did you kill the guards?” she asked in a throaty rasp that I was beginning to think was her natural voice.
Reaching around her, I stowed my gun in my backpack and grabbed the water bottle I’d brought for after my run and handed it to her. “Yes.”
Taking the water with trembling hands, she only nodded before drinking half the bottle. Then the woman fucking threw me for the second time.
Sitting on her ass on the floor of my Defender in nothing but my T-shirt and a wrecked bikini, she gently placed her hand under Missy’s jaw like she was a fucking dog whisperer and held the water above my bitch’s muzzle.
“Drink, sweet girl.” The woman tipped the bottle.
Like I’d trained her to do, Missy drank.
After giving my dog half of the water that was left, the woman took another swallow for herself. Then her eyes closed, and she went still for a beat. Taking a shallow breath and opening her eyes, she gave me an expression steeped in resignation as she offered the water bottle back.
Her tone in check, she asked the right question. “What are my options?”
Hands on my hips, I fucking stood there.
“I can’t go to the police,” she added when I didn’t say shit.
Mentally shaking the bullshit in my head away, keeping my eyes on her, I took the water bottle. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Won’t.” Her voice still a sexy, throaty, low rasp, she calmly spoke like this entire situation wasn’t FUBAR. “I know what will happen if I do.”
“Then you also know what won’t happen.” The police wouldn’t do shit to Kentworth or any of his men. Finishing the water, I tossed the bottle back in the Defender. “Second option is the hospital.”
“No.” Her arm snaked around Missy. “Third option?”
“You need medical attention.” Pointing out the obvious, I wondered what happened to the panicked woman in the sea grape hammock who told me to leave her the fuck there.
She grimaced as she adjusted her leg. “The hospital will be the first place they look for me.”
I didn’t disagree. Kentworth probably already had eyes on the place. Except that wasn’t the fucking point. I could evade Kentworth’s shit-for-training guards. I could get her off this island. I could make sure she got the medical attention she needed. All of it was possible.
The question was why the fuck was I still involved?
I could’ve walked the hell away from this woman back on the beach and called it in. I also could’ve handed this over to the Feds. Hell, I could’ve called André Luna and asked him to take care of it. And I damn well knew I could’ve made Missy leave with me when we were back on the beach. I hadn’t leashed her in years, but I wasn’t above reminding her who her master was.
Except I hadn’t done any of that.
I was fucking standing here, two murders in, staring at doe eyes. Any deeper in this woman’s shit, and I wouldn’t have to fuck her because I’d already be bottoming out.
Fuck.
I threw down a bullshit excuse. “I’m not a medic.” I knew basic combat triage. I could brace her leg, wrap her ribs, shove Advil down her throat and watch her water intake so she didn’t puke.
Staring at me, she slowly nodded. “Military.”
It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t confirm it. “Clock’s ticking.”
She dropped her gaze and her tone lost the bravado she’d had a moment ago. “You didn’t ask why.”
“Why what?” I knew what.
Her hand subconsciously gripped at Missy’s coat. “Why I’m in trouble in the first place.”
“I don’t have to ask.” Young women fell prey to vultures like Kentworth every fucking day. I just never made it my problem. I wasn’t active duty anymore. I was out of the rescue business.
She looked back up at me. “Because?”
“I don’t care.” The why of it didn’t matter.
Inhaling, her shoulders slumped, her nod was painted in defeat and her gaze went back to her lap. “I get it.”
She didn’t fucking get it at all.
“I’m just another nameless, helpless woman.”
I was just another nameless, fucked-in-the-head vet. Didn’t mean shit in this world. Sooner she learned that, the better. “Tell me your real name.”
Her laugh was deep-throated and husky and didn’t fit the injured woman who was meals shy of what her pre-sex-trafficked weight was, judging by the way her bikini had hung on her. “What makes you think Sailor isn’t my real name?”
Fucking banter? Two dead bodies, an international sex trafficker after her that not even the Feds had managed to nail, and she was fucking joking, flirting?
Ignoring her and the sound of her goddamn laugh, I shoved the shirt I’d used to wipe down the SUV into my backpack before grabbing my keys and cell out of the front.
Finally, alarm hit her tone. “What are you doing?”
Shouldering the backpack, I slammed the driver door shut. “Option three.”
Sailor
Slinging his backpack over one shoulder, he slammed his door shut. “Option three.”
Holding my ribs and paying for my laugh in more ways than one, I shamelessly stared at his shirtless chest. I shouldn’t have been noticing his rippling muscles or the hard planes of his stomach or the way the veins in his arms stood out like a relief map of warrior courage every time he moved, but I was.
I was stupidly focusing on every inch of his body because if I didn’t, I was going to fall apart.
Taking my mind off my ankle and what little time I probably had left on this earth, a part of me was almost angry about how he looked because he was the perfect distraction. One I wish I had met before Kyle, but I couldn’t entertain that train of thought. If I did, I would hate myself more, not that it would change what was coming.
What I knew was going to come the second I’d jumped off that boat.
I wasn’t afraid to die.
Death would be merciful compared to the last year of my life. I would be with Shane. Everything would finally be as it should. I silently said the words now, same as I had countless times, same as I’d said them to myself last night.
Right before I jumped off that yacht.
I’d convinced myself I wanted death. But now, I was staring at the ocean-colored eyes of a man who personified heroism, and I was wondering if I’d been in so deep on that yacht that I couldn’t recognize my own thoughts or see the distorted reality I’d put myself in.
Maybe I hadn’t jumped for the reasons I’d told myself. Maybe what I’d really wanted was the opposite of death and despair, but I was too afraid to admit it. I knew the consequences of believing in anything good.
Good was one step away from bad. Hope could crush you faster than your worst nightmare, and life was more fragile than a single breath. I knew all of that because I’d lived it. But now, I was looking at a man I never should’ve met. A huge, dominant, alpha man who’d protected me, carried me and saved me.
He’d even killed for me.
For my own sanity, with everything this man was clearly capable of, I should’ve been terrified of him, but I wasn’t. I didn’t even feel sorry for the two guards he’d killed. After nine months of witnessing their cruelty, I was glad they were gone. But their deaths were going to come with a price, one I should’ve been warning Roark about. More than that, I should’ve insisted he leave and get as far away from me as possible, but I selfishly said nothing.
“Come on.” Gruff and without eye contact, the man who was more lethal than any of Kyle’s guards held a hand out to me. “We’re leaving the Defender here.”
Without hesitation, his loyal dog jumped out of the SUV and stood next to him as if she were born to be his.
For a heartbeat, I stared.
Starved of anything good for so long, I soaked in the exchange. I envied Missy. That sense of belonging. The steadiness, the love, the companionship—she was his and she knew it. She loved her master, and he loved her back with every command he’d taught her.
“Time,” he clipped, still holding out his hand.
Shoving down my thoughts, I tried to focus, but my gaze landed on his hand and suddenly all I saw was the size of it—the size of every part of him. Desperate not to fall back down the dark hole of escape that had gotten me here in the first place, I swallowed past gnawing hunger that never abated and looked up. “I don’t think I can walk.”
His stark blue gaze gave nothing away. “I know.” Without warning, his huge arms snaked under me.
Sucking in a sharp breath of pain and surprise then instantly regretting it, a cry of distress I couldn’t hold in escaped as he lifted me out of the SUV.
“Put your hands on your ribs,” he clipped in a stern order.
“Why?” Blinking back tears, my cheek against the heat of his bare chest, I barely got the question out.
“Pressure.” Using his shoulder, he shut the rear door of his Defender. “Press against your ribs when you breathe.” Still holding me against him, he pulled the cover down over the SUV. “It’ll help with some of the pain.”
Nothing ever eased the pain. “You know this how?” I gently slid my hands over my right side.
“Simulates a compression bandage. Temporary fix.” He glanced at his dog as he started walking toward the stairwell. “Missy, heel.”
The golden retriever fell back a step, then quickly moved to his left side and kept pace.
Impressed with how well trained she was, I filed away another command she knew. “Where are we going?”
Roark didn’t answer. He scanned the garage, and I realized how stupid a question it was.
“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Whether he got me away from Kyle’s men now or even bought me a few days, the end result would be the same. I wasn’t walking away from Kyle Kentworth. Not when I knew too much.
Roark didn’t answer that question either as he quickly glanced into the stairwell. “Missy, patrol.”
The dog went down the stairs.
Her paws almost silent on the concrete steps, I watched Missy disappear around the second landing.
Keeping to his silent routine, Roark waited a few seconds, then he followed.
Bracing to be jostled as he went down the stairs, I held my ribs and my breath as he took the first set of steps.
In a blink, we were on the ground level.
As I exhaled, I realized what he’d done. “Thank you.”
“For?” Still holding me firmly against his chest like he’d done on the stairs, he did another quick glance around the corner into the open garage area.
“You purposely held me steady as you went down the stairs.”
He didn’t comment as he stepped into the lower level of the garage and headed for the far end where Missy was standing by the exit, waiting patiently.
Alarm spread when I saw the open street and glaring sunlight just past Missy. Wanting distance between us and a car with two dead bodies, I hadn’t thought about how exposed we’d be on the streets of Key West at this hour.
“We shouldn’t walk out there.” It was too early for the hordes of tourists to be out that would help camouflage our movements. Not that Roark’s height or build was easy to miss, especially shirtless, but at least with crowded streets, we might’ve been a little less visible.
“We’re not going far.” Roark scanned both the garage and the street out front. “Missy, come.”
Without any more of an explanation, he stepped into the early morning sunlight.
Roark
Turning left onto Grinnell Street, I kept my head on a swivel and aimed for the water a block away.
As if knowing we stood out like a fucking target at this hour with no tourist foot traffic, she shrank in my arms, pressing herself closer against my chest.
I wanted to double-time it, but I couldn’t run with her in my arms. I’d rattle the fuck out of her, and I’d already hurt her when I’d picked her up out of the Defender.
Hoping like hell the Tortuga was still docked and hadn’t left on a charter yet, I scanned every direction for the second black SUV before I turned left onto the boardwalk.
“You have a boat?”
Ignoring the rasp in her voice and her question, I spied the fishing charter and, thankfully, the weathered former Navy engineer hosing off the decks.
Walking through the open gate of the marina, I headed down the dock.
Catching my approach, Jack stowed the hose and met us starboard. Taking in the woman with a single glance, he tipped his chin at me. “Mornin’.” He glanced at Missy. “Hey, girl.”
“Need a favor. Time-sensitive.” I scanned the direction we’d come from. Still no black SUV or guards. Yet. “Can you drop us at my place?”
Following my glance, then looking back at me, Jack didn’t hesitate. “Yep.”
“Appreciate it.” I glanced down to my left. “Missy, go.”
Missy jumped aboard and went to the old man as I stepped onto the boat with the woman.
Jack pet Missy once before turning toward the tie-downs. “First aid kit’s in the galley. Top cabinet on the left.”
“Copy.” I headed inside with two females.
As I set the woman on the small counter in the galley and dropped my backpack on the floor, Jack fired up the Tortuga.
Still holding her right side, she shifted uncomfortably on the cold metal. “We’re going to your house?”
Grabbing the first aid kit out of the cupboard, I riffled through it. “For now.” Dumping what I needed on the counter before putting the kit back, I asked what I didn’t want to know. “Any injuries I can’t see?”
Glancing down, she shook her head. “My ribs are just sore, and I don’t think my ankle is actually broken.”
Pausing, I stared at the woman.
Once she realized I wasn’t moving, she glanced at my still hands then lifted her head. All the bravado gone from her features, she looked so damn young and vulnerable that I wondered what her age was.
Biting her lip, she lied. “I’m okay.”
My expression locked, I kept my tone even. “Rape kits collect evidence for prosecution.”
Heat hit her entire face, and she went quiet as fuck as she quickly looked away. “I don’t need that.”
I grasped her chin and brought her eyes back to me. “Need and want are two different animals.”
Her eyes on mine, her throat moved with a swallow. “I don’t want that,” she whispered.
Keeping my shit locked down when all I wanted was to get my fucking hands on Kentworth, I nodded as I released her. “Any medication allergies?”
“No.”
Opening two packets of ibuprofen, I shook out the tablets, then filled a cup with water and handed both to her. “Take these. Sip the water.”
She took the meds without comment as I filled a pan with water and set it on the floor for Missy.
Quickly scanning her bare arms and legs that were scratched to hell, I rummaged in a drawer. Grabbing an industrial-sized serving spoon before grasping the back of her calf on her injured leg, I rested her foot against my thigh.
Flinching, she almost dropped the cup.
“Drink.” Using the counter as leverage, I bent the spoon into a right angle. “Any progression of pain? Shortness of breath?”
“No.” Her voice, still raspy as fuck, came quieter. “What are you doing?”
