Quick & Dangerous, page 17
“Skyler!” Rob yelled after her. He was chasing the car on foot. He wouldn’t be able to keep up for long.
She managed to push herself up enough to see out the window. She saw Rob’s face behind them, red with rage. His arms and legs pumped like a well-oiled machine as he ran after them. After her.
It didn’t matter how fast he ran. The SUV would just go faster. Eventually, they would lose Rob. She would lose Rob.
Rubio had finally found her.
He’d finally caught up with her.
She’d managed to stay hidden for longer than she thought she would, but deep down she knew they’d eventually get her.
Fear clawed at every muscle inside her, begging her not to give up the fight. She was still alive, still able make a break for it. She scrambled around the back seat, punching limbs and body parts, desperate to get to the still-open door. But they were stronger than her, and she was outnumbered. They shoved the rest of her body inside the car and slammed the door, nearly taking her foot off in the process. She reached for the handle, but a fist came at her from the side and made contact with her temple. Stars flashed in her mind as the pain in her head took over and she let go of the door handle. The last image she saw before it all went black was Rob’s face through the back window, his mouth open wide, calling her name.
That was probably the last time she’d ever see him.
Chapter 17
Rob
How could he have been so stupid?
He’d finally found her. Finally earned her trust and had her moments away from boarding the plane to her brothers, and he’d gone and let her out of his sight.
No.
Worse.
She was still in his sight, and he’d gone and fucking lost her anyway.
She trusted him to save her. He had to save her.
As he ran down the road toward the SUV and Skyler, fury licked at him. Fueled him. But he was too late. They were long gone. All he’d managed to do was memorize the license plate. But on an island of three million people, where it was obviously a rented vehicle and they could just grab another rental, the license plate meant jack shit.
He ran back to their bags. Tate was screaming into the other end of the phone he’d dropped when he saw Skyler get snatched.
“Pick up the fucking phone, Cahill!”
Swallowing, Rob put the phone to his ear. “Gotta go.” Then he hung up.
Yes, he knew the McAllister brothers would probably string him up by his prairie oysters for losing their sister, so what they didn’t know, didn’t castrate him.
With both their bags in tow, he ran for the road. It took less than five minutes to hire a driver to get him to the airport. He didn’t even bother with a cab. He wanted a person who wasn’t above taking a bribe to drive like a madman to get Rob to the airport—and fast.
He was a time bomb waiting to explode by the time the car arrived at the airport. He felt the need to prowl the terminal to burn off some energy, but he couldn’t do that.
He had to plan; he had to wait. He had to think like a mobster.
Most likely they would have headed for the airport.
They had to have already been in Asia to get to Gili Air as fast as they did. Those Instagram posts from the Japanese tourists had only been posted for a matter of hours before they arrived back on Gili Air to find her bungalow ransacked. Rubio’s goons were probably in Thailand, following her trail like Rob had been, and they just caught a flight right to Mataram when her photo popped up on social media. Pierre Rubio had endless funds and an endless cache of hired muscle. He probably had men on every continent searching for Skyler, hunting her down, ready to snatch her off the street and drag her back to France kicking and screaming.
At least he hoped they would keep her alive and take her to France, not just dispose of her body.
A lead weight dropped in his gut. She was still alive. She had to be. He’d feel it in his bones if she wasn’t breathing anymore, wouldn’t he? She just added so much vibrancy and spark to everything and everyone around her. She made the whole world shine brighter. Surely the world would feel like a post-apocalyptic war zone if Skyler was no longer alive.
The easiest thing for the Rubio Cartel to do would be to get Skyler back to France. Alive. Pierre would make her transfer the money, witnessing it himself, then he’d torture her to find out what Nico had on the flash drive. If she didn’t die from the torture, he’d keep her for a while, try to flush out any more family members, see if he could get more money or if they were hiding the flash drive. Then, if he came up empty-handed, he’d kill her. It was the Rubio way. The man was a soulless psychopath, not above torture or murder. Both Rob and Aaron were well aware of how Pierre Rubio operated, how he treated the people that wronged him.
He needed to catch them before they boarded. If they got her on an airplane, it’d be near impossible to find her in France after that. Pierre Rubio had an elaborate underground network.
A call from Tate buzzed his phone, but he didn’t have time to answer it. He knew the man was probably blowing a gasket, but Rob didn’t have time to make excuses and calm down the all-powerful oldest McAllister. He’d take his lashings later. At the moment he needed to get Skyler back.
He needed to get her away from them without causing a scene, without frightening hundreds of locals and foreigners alike.
He spotted a group of uniformed and what appeared to be armed security guards standing just off to the side of the departures door. In hand-to-hand combat, he could probably take down Skyler’s captors, even if they had him outnumbered. But if they had guns and started shooting or threatening innocent civilians, Rob would be forced to drop his weapon, and he could lose her.
He needed allies. He needed reinforcements. He needed to think clearly.
He just hoped to God he’d beat Skyler and the Rubio Cartel to the airport. Everything in his plan was banking on that.
Walking up to the six security guards, he approached the one who looked to be in charge. The man’s name badge said “Wayan.”
“Do you speak English?” he asked.
Wayan nodded. “Yes.”
“Can you help me?” He glanced around at all the other men. “All of you?”
They closed in around him, and he quickly explained.
The universal language of money worked in his favor, as it always did, and the security guards agreed to help him. He also needed them to know that if shots were fired, and Rob was the one pulling the trigger, that he wasn’t a bad guy.
Things could go sideways and fast if people didn’t know he was one of the good guys and out to save Skyler.
He was just finishing up explaining a few extra details to Wayan when the sound of multiple vehicle doors slamming behind them caused him to pause.
The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and his pulse began to race.
She was here.
He didn’t know how he knew, but he knew.
He felt her.
He didn’t turn around though. Instead he asked Wayan to describe what was going on behind him.
“Four men. One woman got out.”
“What does she look like?”
“Pretty. Yellow hair. Blue dress. She sleeping.”
Sleeping?
Fuck. They’d knocked her out.
Those motherfuckers were going to pay.
“That’s them,” he said through gritted teeth, the rage building inside him until all he could see was red.
He held his hand up to stall the security guards. One of them was wearing mirrored aviator sunglasses, so he used it to his advantage and watched Rubio’s goons through the man’s shades.
“Ayo pergi,” Wayan said to the others with a nod.
Rob shook his head. “No, not yet. Wait.” He held up a hand, continuing to watch via the security guard’s glasses.
Wayan nodded.
The security guards stiffened around him, their hands landing on the gun holsters on their hips.
Rob turned to Wayan. “Wait for my cue.” Then he turned around and approached the men with Skyler.
There were four of them. Two men had Skyler’s legs, and one had her arms. The driver was busy on his phone, grabbing bags from the trunk. None of them were even paying attention.
He approached the man carrying Skyler’s arms. “Hey, buddy. Need some help?” The man grunted and told him to fuck off.
One of the men with her feet must have recognized him, because Skyler’s body slipped to the ground and a fist came out of nowhere, landing hard against the side of his cheek. He saw a couple of stars, not enough to make him lose focus, but definitely enough to make him mad.
“NOW!” he yelled, turning on the man who’d just hit him. He landed two good punches, one to the man’s face, another to his gut. His assailant went down.
The man who’d had Skyler’s arms came at Rob from the left, a gun now in his hand. He attempted to hit Rob in the face with the butt of the gun, but Rob blocked him, grabbing his arm and twisting it until the man screamed and released the gun. Rob kneed him hard in the abdomen, making him buckle. Rob looped his arm around the guy’s neck and twisted until he felt a pop. The guy dropped hard at Rob’s feet.
The sound of guns being cocked and men getting into position filled the breeze. Along with screams of fright and confusion from civilians coming and going from the airport.
Wayan was yelling at the cartel lackeys to drop their weapons and get down on the ground.
A shot was fired from behind the open trunk of the car.
It was the driver. He’d aimed at one of the security guards but missed.
His gunfire was met with three more shots, and unlike the first shot, these met their target. The driver went down like a sapling in a windstorm.
There was only one other idiot standing there. He’d brought out his gun, because all bad guys had guns. Only he wasn’t aiming it at Rob or any of the security guards. He was aiming it at the unconscious Skyler.
“Don’t move,” he threatened, a heavy French accent coming through his shaky voice. “Or I shoot.” Taking two steps to the right, he precariously bent down and retrieved the gun from one of his fallen comrades. Now he had two weapons, and he kept one pointed at Skyler and brought the other one up and pointed it at Rob. He shuffled back over to stand over Skyler.
“It’s over, man,” Rob said, his hands out as if he were getting ready to attack a bear. “You’re outnumbered.”
The man’s lip curled up in a sneer, and his eyes flicked up behind Rob.
Rob spun around just as the man he’d punched out earlier approached from behind, attacking Rob with a knife. Rob sidestepped him and reached for the arm with the knife, twisting it around, like he had the other goon’s arm. The man yelped out in pain and dropped the knife.
Rob brought him into a headlock and squared off with the only goon left standing, the one with the two guns.
“Drop your weapons or he dies.”
The ballsy gunman lifted one shoulder, his voice suddenly much less tremulous. “I do not care. He is not my friend.”
The man in Rob’s eyes trembled, his pulse racing against Rob’s wrist. Rob tightened his hold. He’d already killed once today. He didn’t want to have to kill again. He would, but he’d rather just put the guy in a sleeper hold and let the Balinese cops deal with him.
“Get him to drop his weapons, and I’ll let you live,” Rob whispered into the man’s ear.
The man grunted in Rob’s arm. “Va te faire enculer,” he ground out, attempting to spit but not managing very well due to the force of Rob’s forearm cutting off his breathing.
“Not sure what that means, but I think I get the gist.” Rob tightened his hold around the man’s neck. “Last chance.”
The man in his grasp gurgled. “Va te faire foutre.” His legs kicked and he squirmed against Rob, his pulse going a million miles a minute. Erratic hot puffs of air from his mouth hit Rob’s arm.
Rob squeezed a little harder. The man’s fingers grappled at Rob’s arm, his nails digging into Rob’s skin. Rob applied a touch more pressure, and then the man went limp, crumpling to the ground in a heap of dead weight at Rob’s feet.
He stepped over the unconscious body, his eyes having never left the moron with a death wish pointing a gun at Skyler. He didn’t really want to kill any more people today, but this guy had a gun on Skyler. He was going to die.
“Drop your weapon,” Rob said quietly.
The man’s smile was what nightmares were made of. He didn’t care about life, probably not even his own. He was the kind of sick fucker who got off on killing people. Probably considered it a sport.
“Drop. It.” Rob took a half-step closer.
The man spit, and on Skyler, no less.
“You’re going to die for that,” Rob whispered, taking another step.
The guy’s hands weren’t even shaking. He was getting a thrill out of this. He knew he was a dead man. He probably wanted to go out in a rain of fire and bullets.
Rob wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
Without shifting his gaze from the gun pointed at Skyler, Rob watched Wayan approach the gunman from behind, his gun drawn and three other security guards quietly approaching on his six.
Rob took another step forward.
“Don’t move,” the gunman yelled. “Or I will shoot her.”
Rob shook his head, his knees bent, hands out, ready to pounce. “You’re not going to shoot her.”
“Oh no? And why not? She is wanted dead or alive.”
Because she’d be dead right now if that were the case. Fuck, hired goons could be so dim.
“Because I’m not going to give you the chance.” Rob gave Wayan one quick nod, and the security guard made to disarm the gunman. Only this guy was quick, and he spun around, pointing his gun now at Skyler and Wayan. But that gave Rob an opening, and he ran up behind the gunman and, just as he had with the other three, put him in a headlock. He didn’t give the guy any mercy, though. After all, he’d kidnapped Skyler. Pointed a gun at her. Spit on her. Without hesitation, he twisted until he felt the pop. The man slumped in his arms. Rob let him go like the piece of trash he was.
Wayan and the security guards moved in immediately, dealing with the two dead bodies, the shot but still alive driver and the unconscious kidnapper.
Allowing the security guards to do their thing, he carried Skyler over to the side and sat down on a bench with her in his lap.
“Baby?” He ran his hand over her forehead and pushed her hair off her face. If they’d touched her, he’d kill them. Wring all their necks. Make them wish they’d never set foot in Indonesia, that they were never born. He swallowed down the hard lump in his throat. She had to be okay. She just had to be. “Querida. Wake up. It’s me.”
Long lashes twitched on her cheek, and she turned her face toward his chest. That’s when he saw the red bump and cut above her temple, leading into her hairline. Her hair was caked in dry blood, and the lump looked painful.
Those fuckers were going to die now.
He was about to put her down on the bench and take care of the men who had dared to lay a hand on Skyler when emerald eyes with flecks of gold blinked open.
His chest lurched.
“Rob?”
He pressed his lips to her forehead and blinked back the tears. “I’m right here, baby. Right here. You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re with me.”
“With you,” she breathed.
Rob glanced up at the two French cartel lackeys that had lived. The Balinese security guards had them in handcuffs and were leading them away. Rob caught Wayan’s eye and nodded at him. Wayan nodded back with a big smile.
This was most likely going to make Wayan famous.
Rob reached for his phone and punched in Tate’s number. He held the phone away from his ear when the McAllister patriarch answered.
“What the fuck is going on, Cahill?”
Skyler blanched.
“Answer me, goddamn it. What the fuck is going on?”
Skyler grabbed the phone from Rob and put it to her ear. “Hey, Tate.”
Rob let out a long exhale.
Could he drop her off on Moorea without having to get off the jet and deal with the wrath of the billionaire?
She laughed.
No, he couldn’t just drop her off.
That smile.
That laugh.
The woman had gotten under his skin, and he wasn’t looking forward to saying goodbye. He wasn’t looking forward to leaving her at all.
“Okay, thanks, Tate. We’ll go there now,” Skyler said, squinting for a moment and cupping the side of her head where the bump and cut were. She brought her hand away and studied it. There was a smear of blood on her palm. Her lip had a bloody cut as well.
Rob took the phone back from Skyler. “Hey, Tate.”
“What the fuck is going on, Cahill?”
“Nothing that can’t wait to be explained when we get to Moorea,” Rob said coolly. “Gotta go. See you soon.” Then, not waiting for a ream-out from Tate McAllister, Mr. Billionaire himself, Rob cut the call.
“My brother is not happy with you,” Skyler said, sitting up from his lap and moving over to the bench.
Rob shrugged. “Too bad. I appreciate you not telling him what happened, though.”
She went to stand up but wobbled.
Rob got to his feet, supporting her. “Careful, querida,” he crooned. “Do I need to carry you?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, I’m cool, thanks.” Picking up her backpack, she slung it onto her shoulder. “They might have some of my stuff in their trunk. Not sure if it was them on Gili Air or not. I can only assume it was.”
