A View to a Thrill (Masters and Mercenaries Book 7) (18 page)

Jesse held his hands up, too. “Uhm, I think I’m in the wrong place at the wrong time, dudes. I was just talking to this guy. I’m going to go and let you all figure this out.”

The man who was doing all the talking sighed a little. “I’m not stupid, Mr. Murdoch. However, I am very likely to let you since I don’t want to start a war with Ian Taggart. And I think Miss Dennis is here right now. Both of you move away from that door so my men can retrieve her.”

“If you think killing me or Jesse is going to start a war with Ian, why do you think he would let you get away with taking his sister-in-law?” He couldn’t let them through. They would take her and do god knew what to her. He wouldn’t see her again and he couldn’t handle the idea of not knowing where she was.

“I suspect that Mr. Taggart wouldn’t mind having his wife to himself. We had a plant in MI6 for a while. He told us Taggart didn’t get along well with his bride’s sister. I would be shocked to find that has changed. Taking care of the brat just might get Taggart off our backs for a while, but everyone knows how he feels about his men. I would rather not kill you, but I will if you don’t turn her over.”

He was seriously underestimating Ian’s care for his family, and that did include his sister-in-law, whether or not they acted like bullying toddlers around each other, but he didn’t think the man was going to listen to reason. Maybe he would listen to lies. She had to have heard them. The walls were paper thin. With any luck she’d hidden or had gone out the window in the back, or perhaps trained the raccoon to attack men in black. “I assure you she isn’t here. I moved her to a safe location. Do you honestly believe I would bring her here?”

“You better have because you have exactly thirty seconds to produce her or I’ll start shooting, and none of us wants that, Weston.”

He had to think. He had to figure a way out of this that didn’t involve turning her over. He still might have to fight his way out. At least Chelsea would look out for herself. At least she was smart and resourceful and knew when to take off.

The door behind him opened and Chelsea stood in the doorway, dressed in her pajama pants and that T-shirt that did absolutely nothing for her body. She held a hand out as though she could stop a bullet. She wasn’t even wearing a pair of shoes.

“Please don’t shoot him. I’ll come with you,” she promised. “But only if you leave them behind.”

Simon growled. She’d picked a hell of a time to go into her martyr phase.

Chapter Eight

Chelsea wished she’d been able to find her sneakers. A woman shouldn’t have to turn herself over to her probable murderers barefoot. Though it was likely a good thing they would kill her since the parking lot was just as gross as the rest of the place and by walking barefoot, she upped her chance of catching foot syphilis by like a hundred percent.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” Simon whispered the words her way but she could tell he was yelling at her on the inside. His eyes had gone an icy blue and when he went all icy, she knew she was in trouble.

She was trouble. Trouble for him. Trouble for everyone. She knew what he’d expected her to do. The minute she’d heard the car roll up and the man started talking, she’d looked for an exit. Run. She was supposed to run as far and as fast as her crap legs would take her, but she’d just stood there, listening to the paid asswipe threatening to take out Simon. He only wouldn’t because he was afraid of Ian, but everyone knew Ian would be more than happy with him if he got rid of the big guy’s problem—her.

Simon wouldn’t do it. The big, gorgeous, too-good-for-the-world nutcase would stand in front of that door and let his dead body give her another couple of seconds to escape. He wouldn’t do the smart thing and turn her over. And she’d made it so much worse by giving in. He would likely think because they’d shared intimacies, that he had some sort of responsibility toward her. She was sure that there was a “lay down my life for my sub” clause in that contract she should have read.

She didn’t particularly want to live in a world that didn’t have Simon Weston in it so she’d pulled her big girl panties up—figuratively, of course, god, she wanted some panties; how was she going to explain to her new captors that her previous captor didn’t believe in them and could she get some Hanes size sixes?—and opened the door.

But did Simon Weston appreciate her sacrifice? No. The idiot stepped in front of her like he wanted to take a bullet to the chest. She had to hope his suit was also bulletproof.

“When I get you alone, you’re getting the spanking of a lifetime,” he said under his breath. “Do you understand?”

He sounded really serious. It might be better to go with the murderers. It would definitely be easier on her ass. “You have to let me go with them. We’re out numbered.”

“They’re not taking you,” Simon shot back. “Not while I’m alive.”

Couldn’t he see that was exactly what she was worried about?

Jesse moved to Simon’s side. “How do you want to play this, boss? Divide and conquer?”

She had no idea what that meant, but it seemed like a bad idea. “How about give up the girl and live to see another day?”

“Hush. Your input is not required.” Simon nodded at Jesse.

That one little nod made her stomach tighten. What were they planning? Why wouldn’t they go along with her very reasonable plan of giving up because there was nothing else to do?

“Mr. Weston, I don’t want to kill you or your associate, but my partners are not in agreement with me. You took out a couple of our friends last night. I understand that it was self-defense but some of my brethren are a bit more unrealistic. They would love to torture you. And your friend there. We’ve heard he likes it.”

Simon went tense, but Jesse practically froze. “Jesse, you stay calm.”

Shit.
She’d heard Jesse kind of Hulked out from time to time and smashed shit up, but she’d never seen it. This was what they needed to avoid. “Or we could avoid torture of all kinds and just let me go with the bad guys.”

In the end, she kind of was one of them. Despite what he’d said, she didn’t have anything in common with Simon. She wasn’t heroic. She watched out for herself and her sister, and since her sister didn’t need her anymore, it was all for one and one for Chelsea. That was the way it had always been and no amount of hot sex was going to turn her into a mewling love kitten. She was a tough chick, and she knew when the getting had just gotten good.

She was going to die if they shot him.

“She’s being reasonable, Weston. Look, there’s nowhere for you to run. We’ve made it so everyone in the country is looking for you. The story is going nationwide as we speak. There won’t be anywhere in the States where they don’t know your face. That’s a pretty bad thing for a spy, isn’t it? We might be willing to pull back on that news story and keep it local if this ends here. Otherwise, it might be hard for you to go back to the old career,” the tallest asswipe said.

“I’ll fix his face for him.” The man Chelsea affectionately named Anus Face was staring at Simon, a dark look in his eyes. He seemed to be one of the dickheads who wanted to torture them all. “When I’m done with him, no one will know who he is at all.”

“Chelsea, hon,” Jesse began. He didn’t look back her way, but spoke in an even tone. “I hope you have my back on this one.”

He was worried about her loyalty? She was trying to give her damn self up to save him and Simon.

“Yes, you should really have Jesse’s back,” Simon reiterated.

“I’m going to shoot up someone’s front if you don’t get out here, bitch,” Anus Face said.

“I told you I would cooperate but you have to let them go.” She needed to seal this deal or Simon was going to try something stupid. She knew he had a gun on him somewhere. Likely more than one. He could talk about being properly dressed all he liked, but that lovely suit of his also hid a multitude of weapons in a way that Jesse’s T-shirt didn’t. She could see the holster at the small of Jesse’s back and the bulge where the gun was. He was lucky he didn’t get called out three times a day for carrying concealed.

His back. Damn it. They wanted her to take Jesse’s gun. Divide and conquer. They were going to split up. Jesse would go one way and Simon the other. She looked around the crappy motel parking lot. There was some cover, but they would have to jump to get to it. There was a long box planter that hadn’t seen a flower in decades, but it would likely stop a bullet. That was closest to Jesse. Simon’s option was a nice brick wall about ten feet to his left.

He would have seconds to make it there before the bullets started. She seriously doubted he was going to just leave her standing there. He wanted her armed. Simon was going to take her with him whether she liked it or not. He was putting her in a box and her two choices were going with his very crazy and likely to get them killed flow or to completely betray him and Jesse and tell the bad guys what they were going to do. She could shout out that Jesse had a gun.

Likely outcome? Jesse shot dead.

She could try to get past them, try to get to the assholes.

Likely outcome? Simon would try to stop her. Bullets would fly. Everyone shot dead.

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

“What if I change my mind and I don’t want to have anyone’s back?” Chelsea asked, tension flooding her. Adrenaline started to pour through her veins, and she longed for her comfy desk chair, her computer, and a cup of ramen noodles. It was pathetic but safe. She never got an adrenaline rush when she was microwaving ramen.

“Then I’ll handle things my way, love, and your backside better hope I die,” Simon said under his breath. “You have five seconds.”

“I’m done playing, Weston.” Boss Asswipe took a step forward.

And Chelsea made the only choice she really had. “I’m coming out.”

She reached under Jesse’s shirt and slid out the SIG he’d placed there. Even as she pulled it free, her thumb found the safety, clicking it off.

“Give me cover,” Simon said just as the world seemed to explode around them.

Simon pulled her to the left, taking her with him as he made his way to the wall. Jesse leapt toward the brick planter that ran all the way back to the motel office.

Chelsea immediately started firing. Cover. It didn’t matter if she hit anyone. She just needed to make them take cover for the few seconds it would take for Simon to get them to some level of safety. Her feet slapped against the concrete, hitting a rock that seemed to burrow in. Pain flared and her left thigh seized up, but Simon was there, putting his big body in front of hers and twisting around to ensure she found the safety of the wall first.

She heard him hiss as his left arm flew back.

“Oh, god, you’re hit.” She tried to drag him back, but he stood his ground.

“Watch the left flank. Shoot anyone who comes that way,” he commanded as he pulled his own piece and started firing into the parking lot.

Her leg ached and the sound of gunfire filled the air. She glanced over and saw Jesse on his knees, aiming at something she couldn’t see.

They were fucked. There was no way the cops didn’t show up. The OK Corral seemed to be playing out in the motel parking lot. Surely the police would make an appearance.

Except The Collective seemed to own the police.

Simon’s left arm was bleeding, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“We’ve got you surrounded Weston,” the boss yelled when the gunfire finally calmed a bit.

“I don’t see how. We’ve taken out half your men,” Simon replied calmly.

There was another loud bang and then Jesse’s voice rang out. “Three quarters of their men, boss. Wait. Did I do that math right? I suck at math. I’ll just kill everyone and call it a day.”

“Stay calm, Jesse,” Simon said, his voice tight.

Chelsea wasn’t sure how they got out of this without killing everyone. The bad guys weren’t backing down. She looked to her right, her back to the wall that seemed to be the only thing keeping them alive. She saw a shadow start to slink around the corner.

Chelsea fired and the shadow sank back without a scream. “Simon, I think he’s right. I think we’re surrounded.”

“I have more men on the way,” the boss said, his voice perfectly calm. “Lay down your weapons and we still might be able to come to a compromise.”

“Please let me go.” She was willing to beg him. She was willing to do just about anything to not have to watch him die. Watching him get shot had been bad enough.

“Tag is already on his way,” Simon replied. “Jesse will have shot him an emergency signal that Adam can locate us with. He’ll be here.”

She didn’t doubt they had a backup plan just in case they got surrounded by douchebags in a cheeseball motel parking lot, but she did have some questions about how quickly Ian could get here. Despite what his men thought, Ian couldn’t fly and he wasn’t faster than the speeding bullet that would soon be heading Simon’s way.

Jesse was intently keeping his eyes front. He was on one knee, aiming at whoever was in front of him, but he didn’t take a shot, which likely meant the other side had found cover, too.