Forged in Fire Page 10

  The security chief’s graying eyebrows lifted. “They still alive?”

  “Alive, but in need of medical attention,” Zane responded blandly. “This gate needs to be sealed. Nobody in. Nobody out.”

  With a slight nod, the security chief motioned several of his guards over and issued quick, flat orders. Instantly, his men spun and jogged to the mouth of the terminal, setting up sentry duty. Zane watched with approval. The guy ran a tight ship, which would make containment easier.

  “And him? I take it he was one of your suspects too?” The security chief glanced at the motionless figure at their feet.

  “Was?” Beth jolted in Zane’s arms and tried to look down. “He’s dead?”

  Zane frowned, the injury shouldn’t have killed. A blow to the top of the head rarely proved fatal, particularly when the object used was a laptop case. He glanced down, studying the discarded computer. Of course, Beth’s rescuer had twisted the case so the corner had been the impact point, but even so….

  “Yeah,” Zane slowly said. “He tried to grab Beth.”

  “You killed him?” the security guy asked, not sounding like he cared. More like he wanted to get his facts straight.

  “No.” Damn it. “I didn’t arrive in time.”

  The security chief rocked back on his heels and planted his fists on his hips. “Then who—”

  “I didn’t mean to kill him,” Loverboy stammered. “He had the woman by the throat. I just wanted to stun him, so he’d let her go.”

  Zane frowned again, his instincts buzzing. Something about Beth’s rescuer prodded his bullshit sensor. The guy had challenged him. He wouldn’t get all stammery over some run-of-the-mill questioning. Besides, he’d twisted that case for maximum damage—something most civilians wouldn’t think to do.

  “You’ll need to come with us.” The security officer motioned a couple of his guards forward.

  “Of course.” With a final glance at Beth, Loverboy followed the two security escorts down the corridor.

  Still frowning, Zane watched them go.

  “I didn’t get a chance to thank him.” Beth shifted in Zane’s arms and turned to face their questioner. “I hope he won’t get into trouble. He saved my life.” She touched her throat and flinched. “I couldn’t breathe.”

  The security guy shrugged. “That’s for the feds to decide. But I doubt he’ll be charged with anything.” He shifted his attention to Zane. “How about you show me where the rest of these suspects are?”

  Zane indicated Rawls with a jerk of his head. “Lieutenant Rawlings will take you to them,” he said absently, his gaze tracking Loverboy’s thin frame as it ambled down the hall. He nodded at the admonishment to stick around for debriefing, but his gaze never left his rival’s frame as it disappeared down the corridor.

  Cosky waited until the guards had wandered off before easing closer. “What’s up?” he asked quietly, following Zane’s gaze to Loverboy’s disappearing figure.

  “There’s something off there,” Zane said just as softly.

  Cosky glanced at Beth. “Was he in your dream?”

  With a lift of her head, she frowned. “You mean, Russ? No. Why?”

  “Russ?” Zane’s eyebrows snapped together. He ignored the dry glance Cosky shot him.

  “Russ Branson, that’s his name.”

  “And what else did Russ Branson tell you?” Try as he might, he couldn’t smooth the sharp edge from his voice.

  “Well, he’s not one of the hijackers, if that’s what you’re implying.” Beth snapped back, her voice just as sharp. “He wasn’t in the dream. In fact, he’s on his way to Minnesota.”

  “How the hell would you know that?” Jesus Christ! What the hell was wrong with him? Zane tried to back off, but she’d been entirely too comfortable in that bastard’s arms.

  “Because he told me. Earlier. When I first got to the gate room.” Beth glowered back, pulling away from him.

  “He could be lying.” Zane forced himself to let her go.

  “Why would he lie? This was before I even talked to you. And in case you’ve forgotten,” her voice rose with each word, her purple eyes glowing with ire, “he saved my life.”

  Yeah, like he was ever going to forget that.

  “Let’s recap,” Cosky broke in placidly, ignoring the anger crackling between them. “He wasn’t in her dream. He approached her before she approached us. He’s booked on a different flight. And it’s likely he saved her life.” He paused, shook his head, something close to sympathy gleaming in his dark eyes. “Sorry, boss, looks like your instincts are off on this one.”

  Zane swore and raked a frustrated hand through his hair. Hell, maybe Cosky was right. Maybe that instinctive buzz was caused by something more primal—the instinctive reaction of a male sensing a rival for his mate.

  Because when it came right down to it, knowing Beth was his soul mate didn’t mean shit.

  A life with her wasn’t something he could count on. The visions never flashed to warn of a soul mate’s danger, as proved by the fact he’d almost lost her already. Fuck—two of his four brothers had already lost their soul mates, which proved how useless the knowing could be. Two out of four were pretty shitty odds.

  There was no promise that the woman you bonded with would want you back.

  Or, Christ, even if she did, that she’d live long enough for something to develop.

  Webb’s tight, raw face flashed through his mind. His empty eyes and silence since he’d lost Marie. Zane had thought he’d understood his brother’s pain. The depth of his loss.

  But he hadn’t understood shit. Not until now. Until Beth.

  Living without something you’d never experienced was a hell of a lot easier than living without something once you’d been given a taste.

  * * *

  Okay, so challenging the big bastard hadn’t been the smartest choice he’d ever made.

  Russ matched his stride to his security details, aware that Zane Winters’ ice-green eyes still drilled into his spine. He could feel the suspicion in that sharp gaze, the realization there was more to Russ Branson than appeared on the surface.

  He’d spent his career avoiding such suspicion. Inviting closer observation led to unmasking, which led to… well, nothing pleasant, that was for fucking sure.

  He knew better, damn it.

  He should have played it cooler. Handed the woman over quicker.

  The reason behind the challenge had been solid. He’d needed to find out whether the woman actually meant something to Winters. Whether it would benefit him to keep her alive after they’d extracted the information they needed. It would be a shame to kill her if she could provide leverage over HQ1.

  He bit back a sardonic laugh.

  Yeah, that question had been answered. Winters was completely and utterly attached. And jealous as all fuck. There had been murder in those ice-green eyes when they’d locked on Beth Brown and found her in the arms of another man.

  Absolute murder.

  His reaction had been immediate. Instinctive. Something that couldn’t be faked. Not at such a visceral, violent level.

  He’d been ready to rip Russ’s heart out and feed it to him one ventricle at a time.

  And now, thanks to those few seconds of stupidity, Lieutenant Commander Zane Winters was suspicious of him. Which translated to HQ1 being suspicious of him.

  Luckily, the airport security guards didn’t share Winters’ razor-sharp instincts. Russ idly considered taking the men out. There were only two of them. Police academy washouts. If he jumped them, he’d be out of the airport before anyone knew he’d escaped.

  Of course such action would alert everyone to his involvement in the attempted hijacking.

  Even with his FBI and DHS contacts, someone he didn’t control might get curious and uncover things best left buried, which would interfere with his acquisition of the required passengers.

  So best to go with the flow. Keep an eye on Plan B from the airport. Besides, Chastain might find
it difficult to acquire Beth Brown on his own. Winters wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. It might prove useful to have two people working in tandem to grab the woman.

  His blue-suited escorts had shown him through a door marked Airport Personnel Only when his cell vibrated against his thigh. He fished it out and checked the window display.

  The bosses.

  Fuck.

  If he didn’t pick up, they’d wonder why. The original plan hadn’t involved any direct action on his part, which had left him available for spur-of-the-moment updates. He couldn’t afford to have them start questioning his capabilities. He needed to touch base long enough to down play the change of venues, and assure them everything was still on track.

  Russ glanced at the guards. They wouldn’t be able to hear the bosses’ side of the conversation, and he could couch his replies carefully enough so these two clowns wouldn’t pick up on what was actually being said. But if he waited much longer, he might find himself trapped in a room monitored by some kind of electronic listening device.

  The guards glanced at him as he lifted the cell phone to his ear, but didn’t try to stop him.

  “Hey,” he said, “I was just about to call and warn you. It looks like I’ll be arriving later than expected.”

  Cold silence throbbed down the line. “We are told the plane’s been grounded.”

  So they had their own contacts within PacAtlantic, or perhaps the FBI.

  “Yeah, it was the damnedest thing. There was some kind of altercation at the gate across from mine. A woman was attacked. Airport security poured in and started detaining people.”

  The silence chilled to ice. “You’re in custody?”

  Best to own the information and play it how he wanted. “I tried to help the woman.” He forced a rueful laugh. “Got detained for my efforts. I’m sure it’s just a formality, but I suspect I’ll be taking a later flight than expected. It shouldn’t affect our plans. I’ll still arrive in time for the convention.”

  “You’ve switched to the alternative?” A different voice broke in. Flat, rather than cold.

  “Yes. I’ll give you a call as soon as I know more.”

  “You do that.” The flat voice said. “In the meantime, you should call your sister and let her know your flight’s been delayed.”

  Russ’s stride faltered. He almost stopped dead in the hall before he caught himself. “My sister?”

  “Jillian Michaels. You’ve got quite the collection of nieces and nephews too, don’t you?” The voice paused, and Russ’s stomach twisted. “We’ve found in the past that it’s in our best interests to know the people we do business with.”

  The line went dead.

  Very slowly, Russ closed the cell and shoved it into his pocket. His sudden tension, he was relieved to see, hadn’t registered with the guards. Unlike cops, security details weren’t trained to look for signs of stress—like the sudden dampness gluing his shirt to his spine, or the tightness of his fingers.

  He’d taken supreme effort to make sure his true identity never surfaced. He’d masked his fingerprints. Altered his appearance. Changed his name. Paid to have his true identity erased from every data bank in existence. The price to delete himself had been exorbitant, but well worth the cost. Because he had a huge weakness which could be used against him.

  A sister.

  A twin.

  How in the hell those bastards had tracked down his true identity, and discovered his erased family, didn’t matter.

  They had. End of story.

  And if he didn’t deliver exactly what he’d promised, he might not be the only one suffering the punishment of failure.

  Jilly and the kids could end up suffering alongside him.

  Chapter Seven

  Beth was handling the whole someone-just-tried-to-kill-her-thing fine, until she glanced down to find her attacker glaring up at her. Her dead attacker. His muddy brown eyes were starting to glaze, but still fixed on her face with uncanny focus.

  An icy tingle started at the crown of her head and slowly, steadily drained down, crystallizing every cell in its wake, immersing her from ears to toes in glacier water. She broke off in mid-argument with Zane and started to shake. She shook so hard she thought her bones were going to shatter, so hard her muscles ached.

  The icy shroud sank deeper, chilling her from the inside out.

  “Hey.” Zane’s scowl vanished. Concern darkened his eyes. He drew her into his arms, running his palms up and down her rigid, trembling back.

  “I’m fine.”

  Which was a stupid thing to say, considering her body had frozen into a giant block of ice. Desperate to soak in his warmth, Beth pressed closer, but this time, his heat didn’t penetrate the permafrost enveloping her.

  “Shock,” Rawls murmured and she felt a pair of hands that weren’t Zane’s touch her face and reach for her wrist.

  “Her pulse is fast, a little thready. She should be sitting down.”

  Rawlings voice came from a distance. Somehow it seemed important that he’d lost his southern twang, and she realized that she was using his accent as a barometer—he seemed to lose it when things got tense.

  “I’ll find a blanket. Get her down on the floor.”

  Suddenly she was moving, but without her legs doing any of the work. And then they were back against the wall, sitting on the floor, with her cradled like an infant in Zane’s lap.

  She burrowed closer to his hot body, pressing her face against his chest, the cotton of his t-shirt soft and warm against her cheek, and concentrated on the steady, strong thump-thump-thump of his heart.

  How embarrassing.

  She hadn’t expected to fall apart like this. She had always been the go-to person in emergencies. The person everyone relied on. Of course, surviving a murder attempt was a lot different than dealing with a broken window or leaking washing machine. She didn’t have any practical experience when it came to life and death situations.

  Unlike the man cradling her in his lap.

  His heart rate remained slow and steady. His breathing even. His skin warm and dry. There was no sign of adrenaline. No sign of fear. No sign of shock.

  But then he was a SEAL, and if she could believe the romances she’d read, the men who graduated onto the teams were a breed apart. His training would have heightened his natural predisposition toward calm action in emergencies. Still, she would have expected some sign of adrenaline.

  The fact it was completely absent illustrated how polar opposite they were. While the situation had thrown her into a full blown panic attack, his pulse hadn’t even accelerated.

  What in the world would a man like that want with a woman whose life was so dull that fixing a leaky water pipe constituted an emergency?

  Chemistry aside, which would eventually burn itself out, they had nothing in common. Nothing to build on. He’d be bored with her the moment the sparks faded. Just like Brad had been. Just like her father had lost interest in her mother.

  While opposites might attract, that attraction never lasted. Chemistry might prove a nice distraction for a recreational fling, but counting on it for the long-term would lead to a lifetime of regret.

  “Here, tuck this around her,” Rawls said from somewhere above her head.

  A lightweight, crinkly space-blanket was draped over her shoulders. Zane anchored it in place by clamping the edges beneath his armpits.

  “I’m fine, really,” she said, relieved the words were coherent.

  His arms tightened, locking her in place. “Relax. You’re white as snow and still shaking. This material will reflect our body heat. It’s the quickest way to warm you up.”

  She was already warming up, almost toasty, as a matter of fact.

  “I’m sorry about wigging out on you,” she told his chest, the ice giving way to lethargy.

  He ran a soothing hand down her spine. “Someone tried to kill you. You’re entitled.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “No one tried to strangle
me.” His hand continued that slow, comforting glide. Up. Down. Up. Down.

  She scrunched her nose in disgust. He wouldn’t have freaked out even if all three terrorists had tried to kill him—at the same time. He would have dispatched them with his habitual calm and coolly cleaned up the mess.

  He must have read her mind because he gave a ghost of a laugh and a quick hug. “There’s a big difference, sweetheart—I’m trained for combat. You’re not. Trust me, you’re handling yourself just fine.”

  She sighed and snuggled closer. “I’m surprised nobody’s questioned us.”

  “They’re waiting for the feds.” Zane shifted her weight, easing her away from the ridge of hard flesh pushing against her bottom.

  Good Lord, the man had a perpetual erection.

  To her surprise, an answering rush of heat softened the flesh between her legs and her nipples started to tighten. Apparently, now that her muscles were warming up, her libido was too.

  Lovely.

  “Where do you think they’ll take us?” Not that she cared, but they needed something to distract them.

  “It will depend if they have a large enough area here to hold everyone, and enough rooms to separate people during interviews. They may end up shuffling everyone to a different location.”

  He cocked his head slightly and studied her face, then stroked her cheek with his knuckles. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him, because he visibly relaxed.

  “Your skin’s picking up color.”

  “I told you, I’m fine.”

  She should be moving, but it felt so good to be held like this. Too good, actually. Her reluctance to distance herself was a clear sign she needed to.

  Straightening, Beth forced herself to back out of his lap. His arms tightened, but just for a moment, then released her. She shook off the weird sense of loss and scrambled to her feet.