Rogue Defender (Gone Rogue), page 14
“But that still leaves seven.” The coffee smells wonderful yet twists my stomach into knots.
“Domina, we will find him. President Garcia’s aide messaged me a few minutes ago and said he’d take my call.” He offers me an earbud. “Want to listen in and hear the most powerful man in the country shit his pants?”
“President Garcia is a good man. He and Manuel have been friends for years. But if it will find Leo, I will listen to anything.”
Austin dials, and after a moment, the President answers, his voice rough with sleep. “Mr. Pritchard, I understand you have very powerful friends. But what is so important you had to get me out of bed at 6:00 a.m.?”
“It’s former Major General Pritchard, asshole. The first call you received from me was at 11:00 p.m. last night. Since then, I’ve tried to reach you every hour on the hour. You chose to ignore me until now.”
“I am a busy man.”
“And I’m an angry one,” Austin snaps. “Your vice president would be dead right now if it weren’t for Leo Basher. And your precious Ministry of Public Service is hiding him in one of your fucking black site prisons. If this is what you do to people who save your citizens’ lives, what the hell happens to the guys who pose an actual threat?”
“I know nothing about this…Leo Basher,” Garcia says. I clench my hands under the table. After being fired without any chance to explain or defend myself, I shouldn’t care about being loyal to anyone in power. But I still believe Manuel had nothing to do with it.
“You’re the goddamn president. Make some calls and find him. He left the Pacifica Stadium in the back of a black SUV with government plates at 12:15 p.m. Ask me how I know that.”
President Garcia doesn’t answer, and Austin is getting angrier by the minute.
“You want me to shut down the IPS? Or the Ministry? Or tell the people of Panama what they really do? Or maybe I call the newspapers and tell them how you sold your soul six years ago to get on the presidential ticket?” A muscle in Austin’s jaw ticks, and after a beat, he continues. “Paying your rival five million dollars to disappear? Do you think you’ll be able to retire quietly to the countryside after that? You’ll lose everything. Including the accounts you maintain in the Cayman Islands.”
From the couch, Trevor adds, “Don’t forget the escorts. All those private videos he uploaded to the cloud could be ‘not so private’ with a few keystrokes.”
I gape at the man, still prone, eyes heavy with sleep, while Austin relays the information. “So, what’ll it be, Garcia? Release Leo Basher or lose everything?”
“I will call you back in twenty minutes,” President Garcia says. The connection drops and I stare at Austin, convinced he’s out of his mind.
“You threatened the President of Panama! We have to leave. Now. He will know where we are, and the IPS will come to take us all.” Rising, I dart a gaze around the room. There is nothing of Leo here. Nothing of Leo anywhere. The only evidence he lives here is the clothes in his closet.
“Domina.” Trevor comes up behind me, and I whirl around, hands on my hips. “No one’s coming after us here. No one who wants to see another sunrise, anyway.” He touches the butt of his gun, as if he needs to know it’s still there.
“But they will try.” I hate the tremble in my voice. The weakness. In only a week, I have gone from never needing anyone—or so I thought—to weak, terrified, and helpless.
“No. They won’t.” Austin stands, turning one of the laptops so I can see the screen. And half a dozen chat windows. I take a step closer so I can read the names.
“That’s…the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff,” I whisper. “And the Secretary of Defense?”
“Plus the Secretary of the Navy and the Chief of Staff to the Vice President of the United States,” Austin adds. “Can’t tell you where the others work. Or worked. Garcia’s well aware how connected I am. Even though I ‘retired’ a year ago, I still have some damn powerful friends.”
Austin’s phone rings, and he taps his earbud. “Garcia, you better have answers for me.”
“Go to 1801 Avenida de Cedro. The Ministry of Public Service does not report to me. I did what I could. You should not face any resistance, but I cannot guarantee it.”
“Good to know you’re not a complete idiot,” Austin says. “Your next call better be to Manuel Cortez. Because as soon as we get Basher out of that hell hole, we need some goddamn answers, and he’s the only one who can provide them.”
Austin doesn’t wait for Garcia to reply. Tucking his phone into the pocket of his tactical pants, he slams the laptops closed. “Trev, get Domina set up with protective gear. We leave in ten minutes.”
Leo
“Wake up, American.” The punch sends me crashing to the floor. My legs are numb. The pain racing down my arms is like a thousand volts of electricity all the way to my wrists.
“Didn’t need…a fucking…alarm clock,” I slur. I shouldn’t be thankful to see—or hear, since I’m so dizzy, I can’t see shit—Reyes and Peña again, but anything’s better than the godawful “music” they played all night to keep me awake.
“Tell us who you work for!” Peña shouts. Reyes grabs me by the throat and shoves me back into the chair. “Or we will take you to another cell that is much less comfortable than this one.”
“Fuck off.” Lifting my head is damn near impossible. I blink hard and meet Peña’s gaze. He’s desperate. Why? Something’s changed.
God, I need to be able to think.
He slams his hands down on the table, leaning so close I can smell the coffee on his breath. “Where would she go?”
She?
Another punch—this one to my side. Then a boot presses down on my right foot. The pain pulls a groan from my parched throat.
Without my shoes, it’s easy to jerk my leg and slide my toes out from under Reyes’s sole. “Not saying a word…until you give me some water.”
A hand fists my hair. Before I can blink, Reyes slams my head against the table.
Darkness closes in. Peña’s face shrinks before my eyes until all I can see is his blurry pock-marked cheek.
I wish I could stop fighting to survive. Pass out and let them do whatever the fuck they want to me. But I didn’t survive eight days of torture in Venezuela to die at the hands of these two incompetent assholes.
“Again,” Peña snaps.
This time, I’m fast enough to jerk away. My head pounds. The room spins around me, but Reyes only grabs a couple strands of my hair. He swears, lunges for me again, but the door bangs open.
“Get the American up,” another man says. I’m so shocked, I don’t pay attention when he lowers his voice and switches to Spanish.
Peña protests, something about them almost breaking me. “Give us another hour, Robles.”
“Quickly,” the new guy says. “Or he’s coming in. Garcia warned me—”
“You have thirty seconds, shit stain. Or my friend here is going to start shooting. And he does not miss.”
I snap my head up, forgetting all about the pain. I know that voice. The slight east coast accent.
“Wait,” Robles manages before he’s shoved back against the wall.
Austin Pritchard fills the narrow doorway, his gaze sweeping around the windowless room. “Get those goddamn cuffs off him right fucking now.” For good measure, he repeats the order in Spanish with his hand resting on the pistol strapped to his hip. A shadow moves behind him. No. Two of them.
Reyes pulls a small key from his pocket. His hands shake as he unlocks the cuffs. I’m too weak, too sore to do more than let my hands fall to my sides.
“Leo, can you walk?” Austin asks.
I stare up at him, convinced he’s a figment of my sleep-deprived brain.
Gentle hands frame my face, and the scent of wild orchids and orange blossoms replaces the stench of sweat and blood clinging to me. “Leo? Put your arm around me. Please. We need to go.”
She’s here. I didn’t think I’d ever see Domina again, but she’s touching me. Draping my left arm over her shoulders. Trying to stand with me held against her.
“Get your ass up, dude,” Trevor shouts from the hall. “Got to go.”
Austin takes my right arm, and together, he and Domina get me vertical. But when I try a step, I collapse. My head barely misses the corner of the table. Domina cries out, and it’s like a knife to my heart.
“Legs are numb,” I grit out. “Sorry…”
“Take this and stick close to Trevor,” Austin says. “I’ll get Leo.”
I’m too dizzy and tired to focus on what he passes to Domina. Only on the fear in her eyes before she rushes into the hall.
“Guess I’m in bad shape,” I say when Austin slings my arm around his shoulders and hauls me up.
“You look like shit.”
In the hall, Trevor leads the way, drawing down on anyone we meet. Domina follows, a pistol in her hand aimed at the floor. The whole place is nothing but gray cement walls, harsh lights, and echoes.
In the main room, four men stand shoulder to shoulder, blocking the elevator. “Move or you each lose a testicle,” Trevor says. Domina raises her gun, and he adds, “Or worse. I might spare your lives, but she won’t.”
“Get out of the goddamn way,” Austin snaps. He pulls his Glock from the holster. “President Garcia doesn’t have operational authority over you assholes, but he can still make you disappear. Then again, so can we. You want to fuck around and find out?”
The men exchange glances—I think, as my vision isn’t completely clear—and the one on the left nods. “Step aside,” he orders. Domina presses the elevator call button, and the four of us put our backs to the doors, Trev, Austin, and Domina still ready to shoot at any moment, until they slide open.
But by now, I can feel some of the tension leaving Austin’s shoulders. He knows they won’t stop us. I don’t understand how he can be so confident—or how he and Trev are even here—but I don’t care. Domina’s safe, and that’s all I need.
No one says a word as the elevator climbs. Three dings before we’re back to ground level. In a small, plain room, a single man sits behind a desk reading a magazine. “Anyone dead down there?” he asks, his voice completely monotone.
“No,” Austin and Trevor say in tandem.
Satisfied, the man returns to his reading.
The sun blinds me the second we step outside. Letting my head fall forward, I stop struggling against my heavy lids. I’m breathing free air. And I’m not alone.
“Leo? Please wake up.” A gentle hand strokes my cheek, and I turn toward the touch. “You need to drink something.”
A car engine rumbles all around me. The regular thump, thump, thump of tires hitting seams in the pavement. I’m lying on something soft. In the back of a car? My eyes are so dry, I’m not sure I can open them.
“Trevor?” Domina asks. “When do we worry?”
“Awake,” I rasp. “Kind of.”
“Thank fuck, man. It’s been almost an hour.” Trev’s voice carries almost as much strain as Domina’s, and I force my left eye open. He’s sitting in the front seat of the SUV, Austin behind the wheel.
Domina smiles down at me, tears glistening on her cheeks. “Take small sips,” she says as she holds a bottle of water to my cracked lips.
Water hasn’t tasted this good since the last time I was held, interrogated, and almost died. She takes it away long before I’m ready, but I know she’s right. Too much too soon is dangerous.
“Can you…even…shoot?” I ask.
From the front seat, Trevor and Austin chuckle. “Of course that’s the first thing he’d ask,” Austin says. “Not, ‘how the hell did you find me,’ ‘why did it take you so long,’ or ‘what are you two dumb fucks doing here’.”
If I could glare at the man, I would. But I’m too exhausted and I can’t look anywhere but into Domina’s eyes.
“I know how to use a gun. In college, I joined a paintball team.” She brushes my hair away from my forehead. “I won many games.”
“You shouldn’t have brought her.” My voice is still so weak and hoarse, I don’t know if Trev and Austin can even hear me until Trevor turns in the passenger seat, his brown eyes blazing.
“You think we should have left her alone at your apartment? Where anyone could have gotten to her? Give us a little credit, man. And don’t even try to suggest she’d have been better off in a safehouse. Not with your head in her lap. Doesn’t matter that you’re in bad shape. You’ll still end up on the floor.”
“It wasn’t safe.” Talking is a herculean effort. My eyes close, the lids too heavy for me to keep them open a second longer.
“Leo?” Her voice sounds like it’s coming from a mile away. “Drink more, please.”
After another couple of sips, I whisper, “Need to sleep, baby. I’ll be okay. Just…don’t leave me.”
“Never again.”
With those two words, I can let go, and I drift off, knowing she’ll be here when I wake up.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Leo
By the time we reach my apartment, my legs are no longer numb. But every step is torture, even with Austin and Domina supporting half my weight.
“He needs a doctor.” Domina glares at Austin, then Trevor in turn.
“I’m okay,” I grit out in the elevator. “Nothing’s broken.”
“You look…” Her voice cracks, and tears shine in her eyes.
“Trev’s had some medical training,” Austin says. “Enough to know if we need to find a doctor we can pay to keep quiet.”
Domina huffs, but when the doors open on the fifth floor, she swallows whatever she was about to say. The two ex-pats from across the hall are waiting to get on the elevator, and Trev steps in front of me. “You didn’t see us,” he says, his tone deadly calm. With a single jerk of his head, he gets them to step back and give us a wide berth.
They whisper to one another as we head down the hall, but I’m too tired to care. They can spread rumors about me to every apartment in the building as long as I can shower, eat, and sleep.
Austin lowers me onto the couch. Despite the lumpy, ripped cushions, I could pass out right here. Especially with Domina sitting next to me, her fingers linked with mine.
Until Trevor kneels down and shines a bright light into my eye.
“Shit. I told you, I’m fine.”
“The hell you are.” Only the rough edge to his voice stops me from shoving him away. “Austin? Find Leo something to eat. Broth, crackers, toast…”
“It’s been less than twenty-four hours,” I mutter. “I can handle more than toast.”
I don’t fight when Trevor unbuttons my shirt and starts checking the various bruises along my ribs and stomach but draw the line at stripping down to my boxers for him.
“No doctor. Yet,” Trevor says. “But if any of those bruises get worse…”
“Internal bleeding. I know.” I try to get to my feet, but the room spins around me and I’m back down in two seconds flat. “Fuck. I need a shower. And sleep.”
Trevor helps me up, but before I can tell him there’s no way I’m letting him in the shower with me, he passes me off to Domina. “You got this?” he asks. “Austin and I need to call Zephyr, then it’s his turn to catch a few hours.”
“Yes. I can do this. You will wake us if you hear anything…important?” She braces one hand against my chest, and I cover her fingers with mine.
“Anything time sensitive. I promise.”
I meet Trev’s gaze, and the look that passes between us? He understands what I need most right now is the woman at my side. Though we’re going to have a long talk later about why either one of them left the safety of the United States to come rescue me.
Each step toward the bedroom is easier than the last. Especially with Domina’s arm around my waist. She leads me into the bathroom, lets me lean against the counter, and starts the shower. But when she undresses me without saying a single word, then peels off her black yoga pants, the worry I’ve carried since the moment I saw the sniper spills over.
“Baby, talk to me.” I gather her in my arms, relishing the way her breasts pillow against my chest. Her tank top falls from her hand, but she’s still wearing her bra and panties. “I’m okay. I promise.”
“How can you say that?” Tears spill down her cheeks, and she shatters, sobs wracking her body. “We couldn’t find you. Not even Zephyr…no one knew…President Garcia…he refused to talk to Austin…Cortez will not return my calls…no one—”
“Domina. Stop.” I press my lips to hers. She tastes of salt, her tears stinging so many cuts from repeated punches to the face. But I don’t care how much it hurts. She’s kissing me back.
Until her tongue tangles with mine, and her teeth scrape against my split lip. I jerk away, hissing in pain.
“Leo?” Domina cups the back of my neck. Her eyes narrow, and it’s like she’s seeing me for the first time. “Dios mio. You need to rest.”
“I need you.” But when I try to unhook her bra, I lose my balance. Only her arm around my waist keeps me from falling over.
“We can do both.” Domina slides the bra straps down her arms, giving me a delicious view of her breasts. Despite my exhaustion, I’m hard for her before she takes off her panties.
If I had the strength—or the energy—I’d have her right here on the counter. And in the shower. And on the counter again. Instead, I let her wash my hair.
I can’t hold a thought in my head. Not with Domina touching me. It was less than twenty-four hours, but it feels like I haven’t seen her in a year.
“Hold on to me,” she says, stepping closer so she can run a washcloth down my back. “You are about to fall over.”
“Haven’t slept.” My words feel thick, unwieldy, and I rest my cheek on her shoulder. “They wouldn’t…let me.” She tries to draw back, but I hold on. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. I’m alive.”
