Lethal Consequences (The Aegis Series Book 2) Page 12

At Eve’s silence, Olivia said, “Whoever these people were that took us, they were after him, not me. I thought he was just a bodyguard for Aegis, but now . . . Eve, he killed two people in front of me. Just snapped their necks as if they were rag dolls. Granted, they’d already roughed us both up, and I don’t know what else they were going to do, but still . . . I don’t know what to believe anymore. Nothing he told me has turned out to be true, and I’m just—”

  “Olivia.” Eve’s voice filled with worry. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  “Yes. I mean, no, not physically. Emotionally and mentally I’m totally strung out and at the end of my rope, but physically, no. I’m okay. They tossed me around a little when they grabbed us, but that was it. What they did to Landon was much worse. He’s got bruises all over him and this huge gash on his arm and—”

  “Okay,” Eve said more calmly. “Okay, Liv, listen to me. I was skeptical about Miller at the start too, especially knowing who he worked for and what he did for them. But when it comes to your safety, you have nothing to worry about. There’s no one I’d trust more with my life than Landon Miller. He’s not one of the bad guys. He’s one of the good.”

  Olivia’s eyes fell closed, and she breathed out a sigh of relief. She’d known that. She’d felt it deep in her heart. But hearing the confirmation from her sister, who knew and worked with people like Landon . . . She hadn’t realized just how much she’d needed the words.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “That’s what I needed to know.”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m not about to kick his ass for dragging you into all this, though,” Eve snapped. “He’s in deep shit when we pick him up.”

  Olivia barked out a laugh, for the first time in a long time feeling something other than bone-chilling fear. “He’ll be thrilled to hear that.”

  Through the line, Olivia heard Zane’s muffled voice, and then Eve said, “Liv? Get a vehicle and get to the airstrip in Tortoli. We’ll be there. I promise. If you can’t make it for some reason, go to . . .” Paper crinkled, and then Eve said in a muffled voice, “This here?”

  “Yeah,” Zane answered, his voice also muffled, and Olivia imagined them looking at some kind of map. “It should be easy to spot.”

  “Okay, Liv,” Eve said, stronger. “If you can’t make it to the airstrip, go to Saint Andrew’s church. It’s smack-dab in the middle of the city. You won’t be able to miss the bell tower. Listen carefully, Olivia. If you don’t show at the airport within two hours, we’ll assume something went wrong and we’ll rendezvous with you at the church. Understand?”

  Airstrip. Church. She could remember that. “Yes.”

  “And, Liv?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you. We’re gonna get you out of this, okay?”

  Olivia swallowed hard and nodded, even though she knew her sister couldn’t see her. “Yeah, okay.”

  They said their goodbyes, and Olivia set the receiver down, then swiped at the stupid wetness under her eyes. She was tougher than this, dammit. She’d survived being abducted, locked in a box, starved, beaten. This was a thousand times better than that any day. But then she’d only had to think about herself. This was turning out to be so much harder because when it came to Landon, her emotions were already betraying her.

  She pushed to her feet and moved out into the small hallway. When she reached the kitchen, the man who’d brought her here abruptly cut off the rapid conversation he was having with the woman kneading dough and moved toward Olivia.

  “You go.” He pointed toward the door.

  Olivia nodded. “Thank you for the phone.” She held up her hand in the shape of a phone once more. “Grazie.”

  The man pointed at her, and then at the door once more. “You. Go. People watching. For you.” He pointed again. “Must go.”

  A chill swept down Olivia’s spine when she realized this wasn’t a normal send-off. “Someone’s looking . . . for me?”

  He nodded. “In trucks. All over town. Have to go. Soon.”

  Oh God . . . They’d been found. Someone must have located the ATV. Her heart rate picked up speed, and her mind shot to Landon, still asleep in that barn.

  “I have to get to Tortoli. I need a car. Can you take us there?”

  The man turned and looked at the woman behind him. They spoke again in that rapid Italian. He glanced back at Olivia and shook his head, then pointed at the door again. “Must go.”

  They weren’t going to help. But she couldn’t blame them. They didn’t know who she was, if she was a criminal, what she was doing here. These were simple people who obviously didn’t have much money. And this man had already gone out of his way to get her to a phone and warn her about the men outside.

  “Grazie,” she said again. “I’m so sorry to have bothered you.”

  Before Olivia could make it to the door, the old woman stepped in her path and shoved two paper cups and a white paper bag into her hands. “You take. Eat.”

  The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the air. Gratitude swept through Olivia. She accepted the gifts and tried to smile. “Thank you. Grazie.”

  The woman pushed the screen door open, looked both ways in the alley, and then held the door open wider for Olivia. “Go. Hurry. Now. Before they see.”

  Olivia didn’t have any other choice but to do just that. She only prayed she could get to Landon before anyone spotted her.

  Landon opened his eyes to bright sunlight streaming through the barn window. Blinking several times, he slowly sat up and rubbed his aching forehead.

  He felt as if he were moving through thick pea soup, his muscles slow, his head in a fog. Looking to his left, he found the blanket beside him empty.

  Confusion clouded his thoughts. He glanced around the room. “Olivia?”

  Silence met his ears. Pushing to his feet, he blinked again several times, gave his head a swift shake, and tried to figure out why his brain wasn’t working quite right. He moved toward the ladder that led down to the first floor of the barn. “Olivia?”

  Panic snaked its way between his ribs as silence continued to press in like a cold, clammy hand. He turned a slow circle, looking over the loft once more. The blanket was still empty except for the small Tylenol bag Olivia had given him pills from last night. No sign of her, though—no shoes, no sweatshirt, nothing. As if she’d packed up and run.

  His pulse picked up speed, and his skin grew hot. Nerves churning in his stomach, he reached for the bag and studied the pills inside. Blue and white pills, all the same size and shape.

  Tylenol caplets were white. Tylenol PM caplets, however, were blue. She’d mixed medications. Son of a bitch. He hadn’t thought to investigate the color last night in the dim light before popping them in his mouth because it hadn’t once occurred to him that she’d want to drug him.

  But now . . . Had she planned that last night? To drug him and then fuck him into exhaustion so she could run? But where was the logic in that? And where the hell would she go? She had to know she was safer with him than without.

  Didn’t she?

  His pulse went stratospheric. The Red Brotherhood had to be checking every nearby village for signs of them. If Olivia had left and they’d caught her . . . If she’d inadvertently run into them . . .

  A twig snapped outside, and his head jerked up. He reached for the weapon he’d set beside him last night when they’d first arrived. One look at the magazine confirmed he only had a handful of shots left.

  Fuck. He listened closely. Definitely footsteps. Moving around the far side of the barn. He didn’t have time to mess with shoes. He tucked the gun in the back waistband of his pants and climbed down the ladder, careful to make as little noise as possible, then slinked into the shadows and waited.

  One side of the barn doors pushed open, and everything inside him stilled. He couldn’t see the person stepping into
the shadows of the barn, but he could tell they were holding something in front of them.

  He slipped in at the person’s back. As they stepped fully into the barn, he wrapped one arm around their waist and slapped the other over their mouth. A muffled shriek rose in the barn, and the object in the person’s hands flew up into the air.

  Something hot scalded Landon’s forearm, and he jerked back, not loosening his hold but dragging the body with him. Soft curves pressed against his hips. Feminine fingers flew to his hand, trying to pry it away.

  He loosened his hold and whipped her around to face him. Olivia’s wide green eyes caught his in the dim light of the barn. “Oh my God,” she gasped. “What the heck are you doing?”

  “What the heck am I doing?” Relief and fear and anger pumped through his veins, bringing him as close to the edge as he was sure he’d ever been. He gripped her shoulders tightly, fighting the urge to shake some freakin’ sense into her. “Woman, where the hell have you been?”

  “Me? I—”

  He dragged her to him, cutting off her words, crushing her into his body as he wrapped his arms around her and let her heat seep into him, let it warm him, let his body feel the beat of her heart so he could convince himself she was okay. “People are following us. You can’t just get up and leave. Anyone could have seen you. What in God’s name were you thinking?”

  “Squishing . . . the . . . pastries.”

  Her labored words registered, and, realizing he was holding her too tightly, he eased his grip and leaned back. She drew in a deep breath, wiggled a hand between them, and pressed it against his chest, forcing him back another inch. “You just ruined breakfast. Way to go.”

  Holy hell. He was having trouble keeping up. Again.

  Olivia lifted a flattened white paper sack and frowned. “Or what was breakfast.”

  Two things hit Landon simultaneously. The scent of freshly brewed coffee, and the sweet aroma of some kind of dough. He glanced to the barn floor, where two white paper cups lay on their sides, stained with the remnants of coffee.

  “You left to get breakfast?” That was even stupider than running because they’d had sex.

  “No.” She reached for the closest cup and scowled because it was empty. “I left to find a phone. A nice, old Italian man took me to his bakery, and his wife gave me the coffee and pastries before I left.”

  Landon scratched the back of his head and rested one hand on his hip. Who did that? Who just left and assumed there were decent people in the world who would help you? Not him. Not anyone he’d ever met. Then again, Olivia Wolfe was not like any woman he’d ever known.

  “So much for coffee.” She picked up the other empty cup and tossed it in a bin near the door. “It smelled good at least.” Flicking the bag of pastries his way, she said, “Eat up. I talked to Eve. They’re picking us up in Tortoli, which is about an hour’s drive southeast of here. We’ll need to find a car, but she assured me you’d have no trouble locating one.”

  Landon caught the bag with both hands and peeked inside. Croissants. Freshly baked. His stomach rumbled, and he pulled off a piece of decadent dough for a quick bite. “Your Italian friend didn’t happen to give you a car too, did he?”

  She crossed her arms and leaned back against a pole. “No. He didn’t want to get involved that way, and I don’t blame him.” When Landon lifted the bag toward her, she shook her head. “I already ate.” Her gaze narrowed as he went back to eating. “Your eyes look funny. Are you feeling okay? Is your wound—”

  “I’m fine.” He pulled off another bite, seriously wishing he had that coffee. “Just tired. You drugged me.”

  “I hardly see how that’s possible since, according to you, it wasn’t even a therapeutic dose of Tylenol.”

  He pointed up toward the loft. “That wasn’t just Tylenol in that little bag. It was Tylenol PM. Acetaminophen might not knock me out, but antihistamines do. You shouldn’t mix pills, you know.”

  “Oh. Sorry. I forgot I’d put those in there. I don’t sleep well on long flights.” A sheepish smile crossed her face, making her look even more innocent. “Aren’t you glad now I didn’t let you take eight?”

  Yeah, he was. If he’d taken eight, he’d still be out.

  He swallowed the last bite and balled up the paper bag. “There was a truck parked down the hill last night behind a small house. We can start with that.”

  “You’re going to steal it, aren’t you?”

  The disapproval in her voice came through loud and clear. “Do you have a better idea?”

  “No. I just don’t like the idea of taking what doesn’t belong to us.”

  So honest. So good at heart. Had he ever met anyone like her? No. Never. He tossed the empty bag in the same bin she’d flicked the cups, then stepped toward her. “We’ll leave it at the airport in Tortoli. It’ll get reported stolen. Cops will find it, and the nice people we borrowed it from will get it back. How’s that?”

  She bit the inside of her lip and looked down at the hay scattered across the floor. “I guess that’s the best we can do. I’d feel better if we could leave them a note.”

  God, this woman was as sweet as they came. He loved that about her. Loved that even after everything she’d been through, it still hadn’t changed who and what she was deep inside.

  No, he’d been wrong last night. She wasn’t turning into someone like him—not yet, at least. But if she stayed with him . . . Yeah, if he didn’t get her to safety and then get the hell out of her life, there was no telling what she’d become.

  A lump formed in his throat. One born from shame and regret and disgust. He moved closer, and even though his body lit up at the prospect of touching her, he kept his hands to himself, knowing he had no right. Not now. Not ever again. “Olivia, I’m sorry about last night. I never should have let that happen. I think—”

  Her head came up, and her mesmerizing—very focused—green eyes snapped to his. “I think we need to stop talking and get moving. I was waiting until after you ate to tell you they found us. Men in trucks have been canvassing the village all morning.”

  The apology died on his lips. His gaze shot to the closed barn door, and his senses tuned in as he listened for any sound out of the ordinary.

  “God Almighty, woman.” He dragged her toward the loft and pushed her up the ladder. “You could have started with that.”

  “Sorry, but you seemed a little disoriented when I first got here. And I wanted you to have a little food so you didn’t pass out.” She climbed the ladder and stepped onto the decking. “You can’t fight bad guys on an empty stomach.”

  There she went, worrying about him again. He didn’t deserve it, but a place inside him warmed just the same.

  He followed her up, then dropped to sit on the blanket and pulled on his shoes. “Don’t leave again without telling me where you’re going.”

  She crossed her arms and glared down at him. “There are a lot of things I could tell you not to do too, but I doubt you’d listen.”

  He pushed to his feet and adjusted the weapon at the base of his spine. “As soon as I get you to your sister, you won’t have to think about me anymore. I promise.”

  Emotions passed over her face. Hurt? Disbelief? Anger? He couldn’t tell, and he knew he deserved all three. But whatever she was feeling, she masked it quickly with indifference. An indifference that told him loud and clear it was time he stopped making things worse for her by thinking with his dick instead of his brain. From now on he needed to flip to operative mode. Once he got her on that plane—once he knew she was safe—then he could think about everything he’d just lost.

  Then he could think about everything that was never his to begin with.

  “As soon as I get you to your sister, you won’t have to think about me anymore. I promise.”

  The words echoed in Olivia’s head, mixing with Landon’s apology about la
st night as she followed him out into the sunshine and across the field toward a grove of trees, ducking behind brush whenever they could to avoid being seen.

  He never should have let it happen . . . Her stomach twisted hard. Every doubt she’d had came rushing back.

  Okay, yeah, she’d made it clear she hadn’t wanted to discuss the sex by rolling away and pretending to sleep last night. But she had a reason, dammit. She’d caught him with another woman. She’d nearly been killed because of him. She was still struggling with the issue of whether or not she could trust him. But most of all, she was fighting the fact she was already half in love with the jerk. That didn’t mean she regretted last night.

  Not like him.

  He held up his arm and closed his hand into a fist without speaking or turning to look at her, a sign he’d told her back in the barn meant to keep quiet and out of sight. Humiliation burning inside, Olivia knelt next to him behind an oak tree and tried to get a handle on the useless emotions pumping through her.

  So she’d used him. She didn’t feel particularly guilty about that. She was more than certain he’d used women for sex before—probably numerous women. But was it too much to hope that he felt something—anything—for her, even if it was just friendship? That’s what she’d assumed they’d had all these months they’d been texting—before her fantasies had convinced her it was something more. If he hadn’t felt something for her, why the heck had he texted her that first time, a week after she’d been home from the ordeal in Seattle?

  She remembered that text as if she were reading it for the first time. She’d been wallowing in fear and shame for a week, locked in her house, not even wanting to venture out to the grocery store, when her phone had lit up.

  UNKNOWN NUMBER: Hey, it’s Landon Miller. Not supposed to do this but I’ve been thinking about you. Hoping you’re okay. Scars don’t ever go away, but they do heal. And if ever there was anyone who could beat this, I know it’s you. You don’t have to respond. Just know you’re not alone.

  That one text. Those simple, probably pity-filled words had jump-started her heart. He’d never know what that text meant to her—she’d never be foolish enough to tell him, especially now—but the truth was, it had saved her. Saved her from sinking into a murky abyss of depression and anxiety she might never have been able to crawl free from had it not been for him.