Return to Me (21 page)

Tears blurring her eyes, she glanced down at her clenched hands. Breath and heart stopped. “Why do I have blood all over me?”

“It’s not yours. … It’s Noah’s,” Jordan said.

She raised horrified eyes to Eden. “What?”

Shooting an irritated look at her husband, Eden reassured her, “He probably just cut himself a little and put the blood on you to make it look authentic to Mitchell. I promise you, Noah is fine.”

She didn’t add the words, but they hung in the air …
for right now
.

Emotions cracked, split, and then shattered. Everything came tumbling, crumpling in on her … all that had happened since the day of her abduction, the beatings, watching someone’s head explode, her near rape. Now, with the possibility she’d never see Noah again … that he might not survive … it was more than she could assimilate and cope with. With a harsh sob that came from deep inside, she threw herself into Eden’s arms and crashed.

  Noah slammed the car door and headed straight to his cabin. He didn’t want to see or talk to Mitch until he had his head back on straight. Leaving a bruised and battered Samara under a tree in the designated drop-off point had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Seeing her lying there, fragile and vulnerable, ate at his gut with single-minded acidity. If he heard one more vile comment or was forced to issue one more disparaging remark against her to maintain his cover, he would lose it.

Lying across the bed that only an hour ago he’d shared with Samara, he inhaled the lingering sweetness of her natural fragrance. Their lovemaking the first time had been purely sexual, intense and passionate, but without the intensity of deep feelings. Today it had been that … purely lovemaking. A wry grimace tugged at his mouth. He was thirty-two years old and had just made love for the first time today.

Not only had he made love to her, he’d shared things he had never shared with another person, other than his friend and mentor, Milo. Telling her about his experience in prison just seemed right. She needed to realize that no matter how badly battered and violated she’d been, she had a choice to be either victim or survivor. His Mara was a survivor.

Last Chance Rescue had been created with one primary goal, to rescue the innocent. Saving victims was his life, his reason for existence. Doing anything else was unimaginable, even if that precluded having normal relationships. Sharing his life with anyone had never been a consideration or a temptation, until Samara. Long ago, he’d learned to hold himself back from people. Allowing feelings only invited heartache. Noah had more than enough of that for a lifetime.

The regrets in his life were many and varied, but involving Samara in this project was one of the greatest. Delicate and fragile, she wasn’t meant for covert operations or secrecy, and sure as hell didn’t need to be exposed to the scum of the earth, which is what happened.

He would do whatever he had to do to protect Samara and that meant staying away from her. She was purity and goodness and destined for a good life … something he couldn’t offer.

When he returned home, he’d send her some money. She’d be angry at first, but he’d make sure she realized that she’d worked for it, just like any other operative. Maybe she could buy herself some new furniture and go on a long trip. God knew she’d need the recovery time.

The blast of a gun jerked Noah out of his thoughts. He shot out of bed and out of the cabin in seconds. Who the hell had Mitch killed now?

Noah skidded to a stop at the bottom of the steps. One of Mitch’s men lay lifeless on the ground. Mitch stood over him, gun in hand.

“What the hell’s going on?” Noah snapped.

His brother jerked his head up and grinned. “Caught him trying to steal a taste of the merchandise.” He waved the gun drunkenly. “That’s against the rules.”

“You’re wasted, Mitch,” Noah growled. “You got something big coming down in a few hours. Go sleep it off before you kill someone else.”

“You mean, like you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Didn’t you ever think about it, Michael? How, if you’d gotten rid of me all those years ago, there’d be no one you had to share with. If there weren’t two of us, you could have it all?”

Noah snorted his disgust. “I never had anything, Mitch. You were jealous of nothing.”

A mischievous smile lifted his brother’s lips. “You almost had Rebecca.”

Determined not to show his fury, Noah kept his hands loose at his sides. Every cell in his body told him to do the deed and get it over with. He couldn’t. Revenge for all the wrong his brother had done him didn’t even register on the scales of justice. Hatred could not get in the way of the real goal.

Noah forced a nonchalant shrug. “You got her first.”

“Yeah, I did, bro. Remember that. I always win.”

Noah examined his brother. Was there something behind his statement other than the drunken bragging of a deranged sociopath? Did he suspect something? No, it had to be his imagination. He hadn’t been followed. … No one saw him leave Samara and they sure as hell hadn’t seen her being picked up.

He was tired, exhausted from his concern for Samara, anxious for this operation to be over. That had to be it. If his brother suspected him at all, he’d be dead by now.

“Whatever you say, Mitch. You’re in charge.” Noah turned back and headed to his cabin.

A gleeful giggle sounded behind him. “You got that right.”

  The deluge of water from the hot shower flowed down Samara’s head. Noah’s blood, intermingled with her tears, disappeared down the drain. Small sobs shuddered through her. She took deep breaths, willing herself to calm down. Noah was a professional. He’d put his life on the line innumerable times and would countless more. This would be no different. He would be fine. She had to believe that.

Wincing, she washed over a particularly deep bruise on her upper thigh. She hadn’t looked in the mirror yet. Seeing Noah’s blood matted in her hair and on her clothes wasn’t an image she wanted in her head. The bruises and cuts she could see just by looking down were more than enough to warn her it wouldn’t be pleasant.

Her physical injuries would heal. Her heart though … she had serious doubts.

The water cooled, forcing her out of the shower. Hair sopping wet, she wrapped it in a towel. A rush of gratitude swept through her as she took in all the toiletries sitting on the counter that Eden had provided. Along with a steaming cup of mint tea and sugar cookies.

Perhaps only another woman would understand the importance of having all the feminine, girlie products to pamper her body with. Twisting the cap from the delightful-smelling lotion, she moisturized her entire body. Her sore, abused skin relished the pampering. Luxuries she’d always taken for granted.

Managing to do all of this without looking in the mirror hadn’t been easy. But now the time had come. A deep breath … Samara lifted her eyes and stared at the bruised, battered, and changed woman before her.

She looked no different and yet completely different. A giant bruise colored the left side of her forehead, and another large one was on her cheekbone. A narrow, ugly strip of raw flesh marred her right temple. Mitch’s belt. Her lips were still a little chapped and dry, but other than the discolorations, she looked like the same woman she’d been staring at all her life. Except her eyes. They held a knowledge that hadn’t been there before. She’d seen evil and had experiences she wouldn’t wish on anyone. And she had survived.

A small smile lifted her swollen lips as that realization took on solidity.
She had survived
.

With that thought, Samara let her eyes roam down the rest of her body, able to see beyond the memory of how each injury got there. Good heavens. No wonder she was so sore. Covered in bruises and welt marks, her body was a colorful array of green, blue, and brown. Interspersed between the bruises and on top of some of them were knife nicks from having her clothes sliced off and cuts from the various times she’d been thrown on the ground. She twisted around and grimaced. Her back, buttocks, and thighs received most of the vicious whipping and would probably take weeks to look normal again. But the important thing was, they would heal.

Abject weakness attacked as reaction and exhaustion took its toll. Instead of drying her hair, she halfheartedly towel dried it. Since looking her best wasn’t really on her list of priorities right now, she left it damp, hanging in curly ringlets. Stifling a jaw-cracking yawn, she pulled on a pair of cotton pajamas Eden had provided and crawled into the soft, clean bed. The lamp on the night table was on, but Samara couldn’t bring herself to turn it off. She was safe here. Not only were Jordan and Eden downstairs, three other LCR operatives were also here. No one was going to breach this safe house and get her. … Still she couldn’t make herself face the darkness.

She closed her eyes and Noah’s beautiful face appeared. He felt something for her. It wasn’t her imagination or a hopeful fantasy. When this was over, she would make sure they had a chance to explore what they had together. She didn’t fool herself. It would be an uphill battle. For some reason, he didn’t believe there was a future for them. He’d reminded her just before they made love that they couldn’t be. She’d just see about that. Stubbornness ran deep in her family. Her father had always said that since Samara was so small, her stubbornness was more concentrated. She hoped that was true because she had a feeling it would take every ounce of her stubbornness to convince Noah.

  With one last check of his gun, Noah headed out the door. The truck was due in an hour. Jordan and Eden and ten other LCR operatives were standing by, close to camp. When it pulled up, Noah would fire a shot—the signal for LCR to storm the campground.

Noah hadn’t been able to determine how many men would arrive with the truck. However, Mitch only had five men left here and if he kept killing them, he’d have even less.

The young girls already here were in a small cabin. An LCR operative would handle that cabin, while all others concentrated on Mitchell’s men and saving the girls in the truck.

Noah would concentrate on Mitchell.

He spotted his brother talking to two of his men. Unable to hear what he was saying, he did pick up two words that put him on the highest level of alertness.
Brother
and
bastard
. Hand in his pocket, fingers touching his gun, Noah sauntered toward the group. No matter what lay ahead, he had to play this out till the bitter end. From what he could see, it was only Mitch and two men waiting for the delivery. Where was everyone else?

Noah took a cautious survey of the surroundings. Quiet … too quiet. The men standing beside Mitch moved a few steps back as Noah neared. “Where is everybody?”

Black eyes, so like his own, glittered with excitement. Because of the shipment or something else? Mitch’s nonchalant shrug seemed overexaggerated. “Couple of the guys had an errand to run. They’ll be here soon.”

“An errand?” The shipment they’d been waiting on for weeks was coming, and he’d sent his men out on an errand? Something was definitely off.

“Yeah, you never can have too much sugar, you know?”

The roar of a transport truck coming up the drive caught his attention. The oversized vehicle pulled to a stop a few feet from where they stood. Mitchell’s men moved stealthily and placed themselves strategically around Noah, not the truck.

Hand still in his pocket, Noah eased his hand around the grip and pulled his gun out.

Another vehicle pulled behind the truck. Two men got out. One opened the trunk of the car. Everything went still, quiet, and furious inside. The man lifted a gagged and bound, pajama-clad Samara from the vehicle and dumped her on the ground.

“Surprised, Michael?”

Noah turned his gaze to his brother. “How long have you known?”

“That you’re a traitor?” He gave a slow shake of his head. “I never trusted you, but it wasn’t until I saw her move yesterday that I knew for sure.”

“You saw her move?”

“Well, actually I saw the little tracking device we injected her with move. Best invention ever. We tag the merchandise as soon as we get it. That way if it ever tries to escape, we can pinpoint the location exactly.” He looked over at a wild-eyed and furious Samara lying on the ground. “Just as a precaution, I checked the monitor. Sure enough, about five minutes after you came back from dumping her body, it started moving. We tracked her to a house in town. You killed her and now she’s resurrected … a fucking miracle, don’t you think?”

“Let her go, Mitch. There’s no reason for her to be involved.”

A familiar childlike giggle burst from Mitch’s mouth. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen. But I am going to give her sort of a test. Depending on her answer after I administer the test, will determine how long she lives.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m going to fuck her. After I’m finished, she can tell me which brother gave her the best time. If she liked you better—which I highly doubt—she can die with you. If she says she likes me better, well … then, she can stay alive for as long as she interests me and I’ll keep giving it to her.”

Noah assessed his chances of getting to Samara before Mitch’s men killed him. Not good. Two men stood over Samara, their guns aimed directly at her head. Three men, including Mitchell, had their guns pointed at him. Two other men sat in the cab of the truck. He could take out two, maybe three before he died. But that wouldn’t save Samara.

Noah did the only thing he could do. He dropped his gun. Hands in the air, he faced his brother. “Let’s settle this, Mitch … like we should have years earlier. You really want to see who’s the best? Put your gun down and show me how good you really are.”

Mitchell’s mouth moved up in a sneer. “Yeah, you’d really like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Hey, even if I win, you still have four men with guns who can take me down. If you win, you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing you really were the best.” Moving closer, Noah taunted softly, “Come on, little brother. Are you afraid to find out I really am better than you?”