Extreme Measures

19

“I think she’s coming around.”

Landon looked up at the nurse standing next to Olivia’s bed. Pushing out of the chair, he dropped the newspaper he’d been reading on the table at his side and took a small step forward. “Olivia?”

Machines beeped in the small hospital room. The nurse leaned over the frail woman under the thin blanket and said, “Come on, Olivia. Open your eyes.”

She’d been unconscious since Landon had brought her to the hospital. When he’d found her lying on the grass on the other side of that fence, completely out, he’d thought she was dead. And when he’d felt her pulse beneath her skin, his relief had been swift and consuming. Losing a hostage in the last seconds of a rescue mission was not an acceptable outcome for him. Though he’d never admit it, he totally understood and condoned Archer’s need for revenge after Humbolt had been killed.

Olivia turned her head slightly on the pillow and groaned. Landon’s pulse sped up as he waited.

“That’s it,” the nurse said. “Open up and say hello, why don’t you?”

Bruises covered her slim face and bony arms. Her hair was dirty and matted against her head, preventing him from knowing its true color. She was a tiny thing, maybe five four, if she was lucky, and a hundred and ten pounds max on a good day. But dehydrated and malnourished like she was, she’d weighed nearly nothing in his arms.

She hadn’t been raped. The doctors had assured him of that after they’d examined her when he’d brought her to the ER, but that was small consolation considering everything else. Remembering the way she’d had trouble standing when he’d tugged her to her feet, how frail her arms had been and how she’d barely been able to pull herself up that wall, part of him wished he could go back and shoot those fuckers who’d done this to her all over again.

“That’s it, Olivia,” the nurse cooed. “I’ve got some juice here for you. You like juice, don’t you? Everyone likes juice.”

Olivia’s eyes fluttered and finally opened, and when they did, Landon felt like someone had sucker punched him straight in the middle of the chest.

Green. Her eyes were a piercing emerald green. Not like Eve’s at all. As stunning as a highly polished precious stone.

“Welcome back,” the woman said to her. “I’m Carol, your nurse. And you recognize this guy, don’t you?”

Slowly, Olivia’s head rolled on the pillow, and those captivating eyes locked on his.

She stared at him. Didn’t move. Didn’t speak. And as he studied the emptiness in her gaze, he realized she didn’t remember him. Probably hadn’t gotten a good enough look to recognize his face, not that his scarred mug was anything special to remember. But considering everything she’d been through, he didn’t want her to think he was one of those thugs and unleash another ear-piercing scream on the nurse like she’d done on him. Frail or not, the woman had lungs.

“Hey.” His voice was thick. Not his own. He cleared his throat. “Nice to see you’re finally awake. We were starting to worry.”

Those pretty eyes narrowed and held. After several seconds they widened in shock. “M-Miller?”

“Yeah.” Another burst of relief rippled through his veins. That she remembered him. That she knew his name. Relief he wasn’t used to feeling. He fought the urge to feel her hand sliding against his like he’d done when he’d pulled her free of that chain.

Which was . . . nowhere close to normal for him. She was a target, not anyone he knew personally. He shoved his hands in the front pocket of his jeans so he wouldn’t do something stupid. Like reach for her. “How do you feel?”

“I feel . . .” She pulled her gaze from his and slowly glanced around the white room. “Where am I?”

“In the hospital,” the nurse said. “Here, let’s get you up so you can have some juice.” She fiddled with the bed controller, then the motor hummed and the top of the bed lifted. “You were pretty dehydrated, and you took a nasty fall.”

Sitting upright didn’t help the way Olivia looked. If anything, the fluorescent lights above highlighted the bruises and swelling around her eyes. Her hair fell to her shoulders, but Landon still couldn’t tell the color. It was so dirty, it could be blonde, light brown, or even dark. The nurse handed Olivia the juice, and Landon cringed when her bruised arm lifted from the bed and her weak fingers wrapped around the box. But the sound she made when she sucked on the straw—a moan of pure pleasure—shot a burst of wicked heat all through his body.

He turned quickly away from the bed and scrubbed a hand over his face. Holy shit. Okay, he was clearly losing it. Lack of sleep was obviously getting to him. Forget the fact she wasn’t even his type and that he didn’t go for skinny, matronly schoolteachers. The chick looked like she’d been used for a punching bag, and her face was so fucked up, he couldn’t even tell if she was pretty. But aside from all that, he never got involved with his principals. Never. Even the totally built, superrich, hot ones.

Zoning back into his role, he locked up whatever silly emotions were playing with his head and turned back to face the bed. The nurse finished checking Olivia’s vitals, then said, “I’m going to have the doctor come in and check on you in a minute. Just keep drinking that juice, and I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

The nurse left the room, leaving the door open, but she pulled the curtain closed. Olivia sucked on the juice box until it made a slurping sound, then lowered it to her lap. A moment of uncomfortable silence passed before she said, “That bandage on the side of your head. I, um, didn’t do that, did I?”

He brushed a finger over the butterfly bandage against his temple and chuckled. “You’ve got some muscles.”

She cringed. “I’m sorry. I thought you were . . . one of them.”

“It’s okay. It’s not the first time my face has taken a beating. I’ll heal.”

Her gaze lingered on the jagged scar across his left cheek, and he knew she was wondering where he’d gotten it, but she didn’t ask. Instead, she looked around the room again. “How did we get here? The last thing I remember was those men shooting at you in that yard.”

She sounded halfway sane, and Landon figured that was a plus, considering everything she’d been through. Though he wished for her sake she couldn’t remember any of it. “I took care of them.”

Surprised green eyes darted to his. Eyes that sucker punched him again, right in the chest. “All of them?”

Be cool. She’s just a girl. Nothing special. “It’s what I do.”

“Oh.” Her gaze roamed over his body, and tiny pinpricks of heat erupted wherever she looked. Heat he couldn’t seem to douse even though he knew he should. “Are you, like, special forces or something?”

“Something like that.” He wasn’t about to tell this innocent little thing what he’d done for a living with the DIA. And he had to get her eyes off his body and refocused on his face because otherwise . . . yeah, otherwise he wasn’t sure what he’d do next. “Olivia, do you remember the men who were holding you? Can you tell me anything about them?”

She closed her eyes and dropped her head back against the pillow. A sick look passed over her features. “I don’t want to talk about them.”

“I know.” The urge to torture those men he’d killed whipped back through him like a hurricane. “But anything you can remember might help.”

She didn’t answer. Just sat there with her eyes closed. And something in his chest turned over as he watched her. He didn’t know what she was remembering. Had no clue what she was feeling. But he knew it was bad. And the need to protect her, to wrap her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay, consumed him from the top down.

Which was ludicrous. He couldn’t convince himself of that on a good day, and he’d tried thousands of times. Why the hell did he think he could help someone else?

Suddenly, her eyes popped open, and she lifted her head from the pillow, looking his way, those green eyes, which moments ago had been flat and empty, now vibrant and alive. “There was a man. He was the one who grabbed me at my house.”

Finally. Something. “Do you remember what he looked like?”

She shook her head. “He was dark. And tall. That’s all I got. But he was nice to me. He kept telling me it would all be over soon. Somewhere along the way things changed, though, and he wasn’t the one in charge. I didn’t see him again, but I heard him. Yesterday. I think he was in the room next to me, before they moved me to that last house. He talked to me through the wall. I’m sure it was him.”

The guy who’d kidnapped her had been overpowered and then locked up himself? “Did you ever hear anyone call him Smith?”

Her brow lowered, and then she shook her head. “No. But—” She lifted her torso from the bed, sitting all the way up on her own. The sheet and thin blanket fell against her waist, revealing the drab gray hospital gown and her bony arms. “Wait. He said his name was Tyrone.”

Bingo. Excitement spread through Landon’s veins. “What else?”

“He”—she looked down at her thin legs under the blanket—“he told me that he’d grabbed me to get to Eve.” Her worried gaze shot to Landon’s face. “My sister’s okay, isn’t she? Please tell me they don’t have Eve.”

“Relax.” The panic in her voice set his protective instincts into high gear. He sat on the bottom of her bed and rested his hand on her calf. Heat seeped through the thin cotton, but he told himself this was okay. He needed to calm her down. He wasn’t touching her for himself. “She’s fine. Worried about you. We’ll call her in a minute. I wanted to wait until you were awake. Tell me what else Tyrone said.”

Olivia relaxed just a touch and looked down at his hand. His fingers felt huge resting against her frail leg, but he forced himself not to pull away.

“He . . . he said she was the target. That they’d grabbed me to draw her out. That she knows too much.” She frowned. “But that doesn’t make sense. Eve works for a politician. I mean . . . what could she know?”

Eve had obviously kept her family in the dark just like she’d done to Archer. But now wasn’t the time to worry about spilling secrets. “Olivia, look at me.”

When those pretty, gemlike eyes met his, his pulse sped up, but he ignored it. She’d been through so much, he doubted much more could shock her, but even if this did, he had to ask. “Your sister works for the CIA. There was a bombing in Seattle a few days ago. Eve was supposed to meet a man named Tyrone Smith and obtain a file from him. Something went wrong, and a car bomb went off not far from their meeting place. The authorities think Eve was involved in the bombing, but we know it’s all linked to your kidnapping. I need to know if Tyrone said anything else. Anything at all that might help your sister.”

Olivia’s brow dropped low as she processed his words, and then her eyes grew wide. Wide and—oh fuck—absolutely mesmerizing. “Western Avenue.”

“What?”

“We have to get to Seattle.” She threw back the covers. “There’s an athletic club on Western Avenue.”

“Wait.” His brow lowered as she tossed her legs over the side of the bed. “What? Hold on. Now you want to work out?”

She pushed to her bare feet. Wobbled. The hospital gown fell to her knees, but she was so small, it all but swallowed her whole.

“Olivia.” He was in front of her before he even realized it, wrapping his arm around her waist and giving her his body to use as a crutch. “Dammit, don’t fall.”

Her hands landed against his chest, and warmth bloomed beneath her palms. Against his belly he felt her tiny breasts and—oh shit—hard nipples.

Cold. She’s fucking cold in that open gown, not turned on. Get a grip, Miller.

He stilled and tried to get his head back in the game. Clearing his throat, he managed, “You need to sit back down. You’re in no shape to go anywhere. I’ll take you to Seattle when you’re better.”

“No.” She lifted her chin and looked up at him. “I have to go now. Don’t you understand? We have to get it before anyone else.”

“Get what?”

An exasperated look crossed her face. “The item in the locker at the athletic club. He said it was the only thing that would help Eve.”

Landon stilled. And even though his pulse was still roaring in his ears being this close to her, his brain was slowly coming back on line. “What’s the locker number? I’ll go.”

“No. She’s my sister. I’m going.”

And right then he saw a glimpse of something he hadn’t seen before. Strength. Rock-solid strength. The kind that proved she was a survivor and not a victim. She wasn’t thanking him for saving her life. She wasn’t whining and crying about what had happened. She was trying to walk out of a hospital she desperately needed to be in, more concerned about her sister’s well-being than her own.

Those gemlike eyes turned hard and resolute. And he pictured her in front of her class, when she had a rowdy student, laying down the law, not taking shit from anyone. A lot like him when he was in black ops mode. “Either take me to Seattle, Miller, or I’ll find a way there myself.”

Landon stared down into her strong, beautiful eyes. And his heart picked up speed. Because right then he knew Olivia Wolfe was not like any other principal he’d ever gone after.

And that meant he was in deep shit.

Eve’s stomach was a knot of nerves as she made her way up the curved staircase toward the second floor.

The house was beautiful. That fact, at least, took her mind off what she was about to do. Old timbers that spanned the high ceilings, gleaming wood floors, and plush, expensive carpets. Whoever owned this place was loaded. But then, she knew Aegis Security was the best of the best, and they had numerous high-profile, wealthy names on their client list. Names that could afford this as a second, third, or even fourth home.

She couldn’t fathom having money like that. Didn’t know what she’d do with it even if she ever had it. Someone thought she’d sold US secrets for money? They obviously didn’t know her very well. Her life was as simple as it came. At least it used to be.

She breathed deeply as she moved onto the second floor. An archway led to a huge game room, decked out with couches, a pool table, and a bar. Beyond that were four bedrooms and a theater room with a gigantic movie screen. All the rooms were empty, though, and right now she didn’t care about checking out the amenities. She had something more important to do.

Making her way to the far end of the hall, she pushed the double doors open and stepped into the massive master suite. Water ran in the bathroom somewhere to her right, and steam spilled from the open bathroom door. A monster king-sized bed, covered in expensive fabrics, took up space near the left wall, but it was the view out the gigantic windows that spanned two whole walls that stopped her feet. Not just of the darkening lake, but in the distance, the steadily fading view of an enormous mountain.

Sam would have loved this. He’d loved hiking, skiing, being in the outdoors. For a second, she tried to picture him here, but found she couldn’t. He didn’t fit. And the more she tried to conjure his image, the more she realized his face wasn’t the one she longed to see.

She sank onto the end of the bed and let the soft cotton and billowy comforter cushion her tired body. Let it give her strength. Her stomach knotted with every second the shower ran, but she held her ground and told herself that if she did nothing else for anyone ever again, she could at least do this.

The shower cut off. She heard Zane moving around in the bathroom. Her pulse sped up, and she tangled her fingers in the bedspread at her sides while she waited. Seconds later, Zane stepped out of the room, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped low around his lean hips. Water glistened on his sculpted chest and abs, and when he rubbed another towel over his dripping hair, the muscles in his arms flexed and released, reminding her what it felt like to be surrounded by him.

He made it three steps before he realized she was there. His feet stopped. His hand stopped its frantic rubbing. Slowly, he looked in her direction. And butterflies took flight in her stomach.

“I owe you something.”

A frown pulled at his mouth. “I’m not in the mood to get my ass handed to me again, thanks.”

She couldn’t stop the corner of her lips from curling. Even hurt and pissed at her, he could still make her smile. “I didn’t mean that. I meant—” Moment of truth. “I meant, I owe you the truth.”

He looked away from her, walked toward a chair across the room, and dropped the towel in his hand. “You don’t owe me any explanation, Eve. Let’s just call this what it is. Over.”

Her chest squeezed so tight she could barely breathe. “I was engaged.”

His hand stilled against the back of the chair. He didn’t say anything, but she knew she’d shocked him. And honestly, she’d shocked herself. She’d never told anyone this.

“It was in college,” she said, before she could change her mind. “He was a few years older than me. He was this computer whiz, and he worked for a company in Silicon Valley. We hadn’t told anyone we were getting married. I was in my senior year and was finishing up fall term. We’d planned to announce to our families at Christmas. It just . . . never happened.”

“Why not?”

The fact he asked told her he was at least a little curious. She steeled her nerves and went on. “He left for a meeting in Hong Kong a couple days after we got engaged. His plane was hijacked and diverted to Manila. You might have heard about it. Fifteen passengers were killed before authorities took control of the aircraft.”

He lowered himself to sit on the arm of the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “I remember. Happened about twelve years ago, right?”

She nodded. “He was one of the fifteen.” She looked away from his face, not wanting to see pity in his eyes. She didn’t deserve it. “I lost focus after he died. Couldn’t seem to pull it together. My friends were worried, my parents talked about sending me to therapy. Luckily, they were in Idaho so they didn’t see how bad I really was, but . . .” She drew another breath. “I wanted to die. I didn’t know how I could go on. And then one day I was walking by the student union and saw there was a job fair. I went in for no reason and realized the CIA was there, educating students about what they do. I saw it as my way out.”

Her hands grew sweaty, and she swiped them against her dirty jeans. “I started out as an analyst but then moved over to counterintelligence. I needed something to do. I couldn’t sit behind a desk all day. And I loved it. I loved the travel and the challenge and being out of my head. Working for the Agency saved me when nothing else could have. And I was doing good. Really good. Until I met you.”

She looked up. He hadn’t moved from his position on the arm of the chair, but he was watching her. Closely. She willed herself to go on.

“I knew as soon as I met you that you weren’t the mole. You didn’t fit the profile. You were too honest. And just being around you, I knew you were the kind of guy who’d joined CIA for the right reasons. To make a difference, not to hide, like I’d done. And I knew I should have stayed away from you, but . . .” She lifted her shoulders and then dropped them. “I couldn’t. Because your energy was contagious. And after just a few weeks, I realized I was . . . happy. For the first time since Sam’s death. Even in a miserable country that devalues women. With you I felt . . . safe.”

He didn’t say anything, and she had no idea what he was thinking. All she knew was that her pulse was pounding and her hands were sweating, and that as hard as all of that was to admit, what she had to say next would be worse.

“And then . . . do you remember that merchant we were staked out watching? The one we were trying to connect to those arms deals in the Middle East? Remember when he ventured out, and the three of us followed? We thought he was making a drop somewhere and that we could finally catch him in the act. Only he tricked us, and you and Carter and I had to split up to try to find him.”

She pressed a hand against her chest, remembering the fear she’d felt that day. “When that car bomb went off and blew up part of the street you’d disappeared down, I couldn’t breathe. I was sure you were dead. Sure of it. And then when I found out you were alive, I was so relieved. You have no idea what I felt in that moment.”

“Eve—”

“And then . . . then I was pissed and scared all at the same time. And I knew I had to get away from you. See, I gave up everything for the CIA. Everything I’d wanted before. A home, a family, a future. I never wanted to go through the kind of pain I went through when I lost Sam. And in one moment, in one microsecond, I was right back there. Only this time it was worse because what I felt for you was a thousand times stronger than what I had ever felt for Sam.”

Those hard, wary eyes that had been watching her since he’d stepped out of the shower softened, and he pushed off the chair. “Eve.”

Eve quickly rose to her feet and held up a hand, blocking him from touching her. “No.” She had to get this out. If she stopped, she’d never finish, and this time she was determined to tell him everything. “I hated you for that. For making me feel something again. And I hated myself even more for letting it happen. With you I was losing focus. I didn’t need the CIA, and that scared me. So I pulled back. And when you wouldn’t let me, when I knew I wasn’t going to be able to make a clean break without something dramatic, I set up that meeting with that arms dealer, and I made sure you saw.”

She stiffened her shoulders and met his gaze head-on, knowing this wasn’t something she could back down from, no matter how much she suddenly wanted to. “I wanted you to think the worst of me so I could get away from you, so I set it up to look like I was trading information with him. And then . . .”

She drew a deep breath. “And then I let him go, even knowing all the things he was rumored to be a part of, because I wanted you to hate me.”