Maya Banks - Hidden Away

“Sniper at three o’clock!” Garrett roared. “Take cover!”

Pandemonium ensued. Sarah shoved at Garrett but she couldn’t see or hear what was going on. Gunfire sounded loud in her ears, deafening her to all else. Her chest squeezed painfully as she glanced to the side to see Marcus lying on the ground a mere foot away, blood trickling from his mouth.

P.J. heard the shot and jerked her gaze in the direction of the gunfire. The shooter was close—at most, twenty yards. She drew her pistol and stalked stealthily through the heavy cover, her nose quivering as her gaze took in every inch of thick foliage. She didn’t dare radio. The sniper would hear.

She smelled him before she spotted him. Stupid asshole. His stench wafted through the leaves. Sweat. He reeked of it. He wasn’t a professional, which took the challenge right out of it for her. This would be like taking down an infant.

She crept up behind him, disgusted that he hadn’t even heard her. She pressed the barrel of her pistol to his head. “Down, asshole!”

The man whirled around and tried to charge her. She rolled her eyes, stuck out her foot and in a lightning move, yanked his arm back as he went down. She fell on top of him, his arm twisted painfully behind his back. His face was in the mud and her barrel was dug into his back.

She shoved him over and kicked away his rifle. The man ought to be shot for not taking better care of his equipment. It was a sin to abuse such a fine piece of weaponry. She dug her pistol into the side of his neck as she sat astride him.

“Talk motherfucker. Who do you work for?”

The man spit at her and she punched him. “You’re pissing me off. Don’t make me cut off your nuts.”

She reached her knife and flipped it open until the blade gleamed wickedly in the light.

“I’d listen to her. She’s pretty mean when she’s pissed off,” Cole drawled.

P.J. looked up to see her teammate leaning against a tree several feet away, amusement glittering in his eyes.

She returned her gaze to her prisoner to see disbelief in his eyes.

She cut the button off his fly and used the knife blade to pry open his pants. He sucked in his breath when she got to his underwear, and she made quick work of the material covering his dick.

She shot him a pitying glance. “Not that there’s a whole lot to be prideful over, but still, most men would rather not do without. Though in your case, I can’t imagine it makes much difference.”

The man’s face flushed with anger and he tried to roll her off him. She rammed her fist into his nuts and brought the pistol stock down over his jaw.

“Now, let’s try this again. You tell me who you are and who you work for or I cut off your dick and make you eat it.”

“Now, P.J.,” Cole chided, “you don’t want to add it to your collection?” He shook his head at the man underneath her. “I used to think she had dick envy or something. Now I just know she’s one mean bitch. She collects dicks, you know, like trophies. Dries them out, tans them like an animal hide and then hangs them on her wall. Kind of sick, if you ask me, but everyone has their hobbies.”

“You’re lying,” the man gasped out. But sweat rolled down his face and his eyes bulged out of his head as he stared at the knife in horror.

“Well, granted yours isn’t anything to brag about, but I’m sure I have a place on my wall for it,” she said with a shrug. She made another cut to his pants and the acrid smell of piss assaulted her nose.

“Well hell, he pissed himself, Cole. That’s going to make this a little more difficult.”

“Okay, okay!” the man shouted. “Stanley Cross hired me. Wants me to take out the Daniels bitch. Doesn’t care how. He wanted me to bring back photographic evidence of her death. If I do, he pays me a mil.”

P.J. sat back and faked a look of disappointment. “Well, damn.”

“Get her off me!”

Cole chuckled. “I don’t usually mess with P.J. I’m kind of fond of my dick.”

P.J. rolled off but was careful to keep her pistol aimed at the man’s head. “Get up, asshole.”

As P.J. walked over to where Cole stood, he murmured low enough for only her to hear. “Dick collection, Rutherford? You didn’t have to have quite so much enthusiasm.”

She chuckled. “As fond as you men are of them, I figured he’d squeal sooner if I threatened his dick.”

SARAH scrambled over to Marcus as soon as Garrett moved off her. Marcus lay partially on his side and she rolled him to his back, terrified at the copious amount of blood staining his chest.

“Marcus,” she pleaded. “Talk to me please. I’ll get you help.”

Marcus’s eyelids flickered and he trained his unfocused stare on her. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

Tears slid soundlessly down her cheeks. She shut out the goings-on around them. There were men everywhere. Garrett directed most of the action while Marcus’s men were taken into custody. There were too many for it to just be Garrett’s team. Marcus was right. Garrett had used her to get to him.

“Please be all right, Marcus. You’re all I have. I love you. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have told you. I should have fought my own battles.”

Marcus raised a hand to wipe at her tears. “No, Sarah. You had to fight them for far too long. You should have had a home. Me. A father who loved you. Neither of us had that, I’m afraid. But I could have done more for you. I’m sorry. I love you, you know. You’re the only person I’ve ever loved and who loved me back.”

“We have the sniper who shot at Sarah in custody,” Garrett said.

Marcus slid his gaze sideways to Garrett. “You tried to be the one who took the bullet.”

“Yeah,” Garrett acknowledged.

“My sins are my own. Sarah shouldn’t be punished for them.”

“Yeah, I know that too.”

Marcus’s face spasmed in pain and he coughed, blood pouring from his mouth. “Take her away. She doesn’t need to see this.”

Sarah hunched over Marcus, pulling him into her arms. “No!” she said fiercely. “I won’t leave you.” She whirled, her angry gaze going to Garrett. “Are you going to let him die?”

“I’ve called in a helicopter,” Garrett said softly. “It’s hard because of the smoke. We’re going to have to meet them downriver.”

“You hear that, Marcus? You hold on. We’re going to get you help.”

Marcus shook his head. “It’s too late, Sarah.”

Hot tears poured over her cheeks. “No. No, I won’t let it be too late.” She leaned down and pressed her lips to his cheek. “I love you, Marcus. I don’t care what you’ve done. I love you. Do you hear me?”

He smiled faintly and his face whitened with the effort. “You’re the best thing my father ever did. Everything ... else ... wrong. Don’t ... know ... how ... you ... turned ... out. The way you did.”

He raised a violently shaking hand to touch her cheek and then he closed his eyes, going still beneath her.

“Marcus?”

His name came out brokenly, a sound she didn’t even recognize.

“Marcus? Oh God ...”

“Sarah, honey.”

Garrett put his hands on her shoulders but she shrugged him away, unable to bear his touch. She buried her face in her hands and wept, rocking back and forth on her knees.

When men she didn’t recognize came to cover Marcus with a blanket, she went crazy. “You don’t touch him! Get away from him.”

She yanked the blanket down and then arranged it herself, pulling it to his chin so that the blood was covered but he appeared at rest, his expression surprisingly peaceful.

“Sarah,” Garrett said quietly. “Come away, honey. We need to get out of here.”

Where did she have to go? The thought was bleak. Her mind was numb, but one thought was clear. Garrett wasn’t who he said he was. He’d lied to her. She’d trusted him and he’d violated that trust.

A moan throbbed in her throat and welled out painfully. He tried to help her up, but she wrenched away from his grasp. “Don’t touch me. Just stay away from me.”

Ignoring her protests, he picked her up and carried her to one of the trucks. “Stay here,” he said grimly and shut the door, leaving her alone, numb, so devastated that she couldn’t imagine anything ever being right again.

GARRETT swore long and hard as he approached Adam Resnick. Resnick flicked his cigarette butt a short distance away and promptly lit another one, taking a deep drag as he surveyed the scene around him.

“Goddamn it, Garrett. I wanted Lattimer alive. This is fucked up. His men can’t do shit for me.”

“I didn’t kill the bastard.”

Steele and his team stalked out of the dense line of trees all but dragging a dirty, bedraggled man with them. P.J. smirked as they drew closer, and she shoved the man forward.

“Here’s your sniper, Garrett. Dumb asshole was easy to peg. He says Stanley Cross hired him to kill Sarah. He wanted proof of her death.”

“Christ,” Resnick swore as he tossed yet another cigarette. “My entire mission was ruined by a fucking amateur.”

“Shut the fuck up, Resnick. I’m not any happier about how all this went down,” Garrett snapped.

“If you hadn’t ditched me, this might not have happened,” Resnick snapped back. “What the fuck was with your going rogue on me? This was a highly planned mission. You were supposed to follow my instructions to a T.”

Garrett held up his middle finger and walked away. He stopped a few feet from the truck where Sarah sat, her features pale and drawn, pain swamping her eyes until he couldn’t bear to look at her. What a clusterfuck. Her selfish bastard of a brother had finally found a conscience and took the bullet meant for Sarah. Unfuckingbelievable. Yet one more thing Garrett was going to have to be grateful to the son of a bitch for.