Blood Kiss (Savage Security Series Book 1) Read online

  He buckled over, releasing her wrists as he groaned in agony. She jabbed her elbow into his back and ripped his gun from the back of his pants. She racked the slide, determined to shoot him.

  The sound of the gun slide focused Pacey. Without hesitation, he shoved his shoulder into her and tackled her to the ground. He landed on top of her, forcing all of her breath from her lungs as his weight crashed down on her. Their legs were a tangled mess. She kicked about wildly, trying to gain an advantage.

  He felt the gun pressed between them. His hands warred with hers for control of the weapon. He was stronger than she was, and she felt the gun slipping from her grasp.

  The shot nearly deafened her in the narrow hallway. She screamed and then tasted blood. The sticky substance oozed around her abdomen. Its warmth slid over her flesh.

  Pacey gripped her chin and pressed his lips to hers.

  She was too weak to shove him off.

  28

  “Of all the fucking times to be driving a fucking limo!” Mike cursed and slammed his hand against the steering wheel.

  Jack ignored his outburst and continued to bark out directions. He’d wanted to drive, but Mike shut that down. So instead his job was to navigate so Mike could feel like he had some control in this fucked up mess.

  The light turned yellow as they approached the intersection. Mike felt Jack’s eyes on him. He pressed his foot to the floor. The limo took off through the intersection as the light turned red. He barreled through traffic, maneuvering the oversized vehicle with the grace of a shark in a bathtub. Horns honked and soccer moms glared at him from perched high in their minivans.

  “Two minutes,” Jack said. “Right at the next street.”

  The tracker had stopped in a residential area. From the intel, the location was Pacey Parker’s house. Mike clung to the hope that she was there, safe and unharmed. He knew that hope was unfounded, but he was willing to cling to whatever he could at this moment.

  Mike turned onto the street. Trees lined the sidewalks in the neighborhood. Children ran in the yards and rode their bikes. Mike slowed the limo. He wouldn’t risk hurting a child. “What number?” he asked.

  “521,” Jack replied.

  Mike pulled up to the curb in front of the house and stopped. It looked like every other house on the block. Nothing stood out about it that would make anyone think that a predator lived there. It looked average, just like the man himself. From the photo on Pacey Parker’s license, he was so average and nondescript that his presence could go unnoticed in a small group.

  Mike bolted out of the limo and raced across the grass. He slipped his gun from its holster and held it down by his leg. Jack signaled that he would go around to the back of the house.

  Mike gripped the door handle and turned. Locked. Not a surprise.

  Windows lined the doorframe. Curtains covered the windows for privacy, but they did nothing for security. Mike slipped off his suit jacket and wrapped his hand in the material. He punched through the glass and cleared the shards out of the way. He dropped his suit jacket on the porch, reached inside, and unbolted the door.

  Mike opened the door and stepped inside the house. He scanned the room and heard the sounds of a fight coming from down the hallway.

  A fight was good. She was still alive.

  A gunshot cracked through the air.

  His heart stuttered as the shot reverberated through the house. He froze for a moment, and then took off as an eerie silence descended on the house.

  Alisha lay in the hallway. The bastard was on top of her. Blood smeared her lips and ran down her chin. A red pool puddled in the carpet around their bodies.

  Mike had seen his share of blood. He’d dealt with the dying before. It was never easy. Some of them still haunted him. He tried to separate himself from them emotionally, as they lay taking their last breaths. That was the only way to get through it. But this time he couldn’t. She was wrapped too tightly around his heart. He’d vowed not to fail her, and yet he had.

  Mike tossed the bastard aside. Jack flew down the hallway behind Mike and dragged Pacey away.

  Mike knelt over Alisha. Her shirt was soaked with blood. He ripped open her shirt and looked for the wound. All he could think was that he had to stop the bleeding. Judging by the amount of blood that had pooled into the carpet, he could lose her before the ambulance arrived.

  “Stay with me,” he ordered as his fingers pressed over her abdomen.

  “I’m fine,” she stuttered, still trying to catch her breath. “It’s not me.” She sought out Mike’s hands and shook her head in frustration. “It’s not me.”

  Mike paused when her bloodied hands grabbed his. His eyes locked on hers. “You okay?” he asked. Was it possible?

  She nodded. “It’s not me. The blood’s not mine.”

  Mike looked at the two men in the hallway. Jack knelt over Pacey, trying to stop the blood that poured from his chest. Pacey wheezed and spewed blood as he fought for each breath. Jack caught Mike’s eye and shook his head. It didn’t look good for the bastard.

  Mike wanted him dead, but he didn’t want Alisha to have to live with blood on her hands. He’d wanted to spare her that.

  Alisha tried to sit up, but Mike held her down. He didn’t want her moving until she’d been assessed. “No, you shouldn’t move. Did you hit your head? Your neck?”

  Alisha appreciated Mike’s concern, but she wanted to get that look of fear off of his face. “I’m good,” she assured him as she sat up. He grimaced at her, but she didn’t care. She pointed towards the open bathroom door. “Check on her. She’s in there. Pacey’s wife.”

  Mike stood and walked into the bathroom. When he saw the woman, hatred for the man who could kidnap and destroy lives for his own selfish pleasure consumed him. He wanted Pacey dead. He wanted to kill the pathetic bastard himself, but it didn’t look like he’d have the privilege. If Pacey lived, he hoped the bastard was treated the way he treated the women in his life for the entirety of his confinement. That seemed a just punishment.

  The plastic sheeting crinkled under Mike’s feet. He opened the closet and pulled out a bath towel. He gently placed the towel over the woman’s exposed chest. He took her limp arm in his and felt for a pulse. She moaned at his touch. Mike was relieved when he felt a steady beat.

  Sirens sounded in the distance. It wouldn’t be long until they arrived.

  Cole and the others from Savage Securities arrived too, each member of the team willing to do whatever they could. Mike was thankful for their support. Their presence allowed him to focus on Alisha while Cole and the others interacted with the police.

  Between the ambulances, police cars, and the Savage Securities vehicles swarming the Parker house, the peaceful neighborhood sidewalk was lined with curious neighbors. Kids straddled their bikes or balanced on their scooters as they watched the first responders handle the situation at the house. Nothing this exciting ever happened in their little piece of suburbia.

  Parents attempted to herd their kids away as the EMTs started rolling people out on stretchers, but that only made the kids fight harder to stay. As far as they were concerned, the scene was just getting good.

  Mike rode with Alisha in the ambulance, but with the EMT there, he didn’t want to say much, and neither did she. He stewed in self-contempt as he rubbed his thumb gently over her hand and stared at the red, raw skin at her wrists. He didn’t want to think about Pacey, but he couldn’t help but wonder if the bastard was still alive.

  “Thanks for coming for me,” Alisha whispered when they were alone in the private ER room. She felt so stupid. If she’d done what he wanted, she wouldn’t be laying in a hospital bed. And he wouldn’t have that look on his face.

  Mike sat on a chair beside her bed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner.” Pain and frustration laced his voice. He stood and caressed her cheek. He wanted to wipe the regret and pain from her face. As far as he was concerned, he’d failed her. He’d let that bastard touch her. He hadn’t convi
nced her of the danger that she was in. He’d let her walk into a minefield when he understood how dangerous the territory was. She’d been too innocent to even understand what she needed to protect herself from.

  The guilt in his eyes nearly killed her. She knew his history. The death of his sister. “I should have listened to you.” She sucked in her lip and fought back the tears, but she couldn’t fight hard enough. The tears fell.

  29

  Mike helped Alisha into his condo. The time at the hospital had been emotional. He knew she had a rough road ahead of her, but he’d help her through it. He knew of several counselors and therapists who specialized in PTSD. He’d make sure she found the right match.

  She wanted to get the antiseptic smell of the hospital off of her. She wanted to get Pacey off of her. “Can I take a bath?” she asked. She looked up at him, standing so tall and strong, yet an aura of pain emanated from him. She’d done that to him. Made him suffer again. Why hadn’t she listened to him?

  Her voice sounded so tired, so weak. Mike wanted to gather her in his arms and protect her, comfort her. “Of course,” he said. He gently pressed his hand to the small of her back and guided her to the master bathroom.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a bath in here. It may have been when he moved in. He leaned over, closed the tub plug and turned on the water. “How hot do you like it?” He craned his head to look over his shoulder at Alisha as he kept his hand under the water. She stood frozen, unblinking, like she was a million miles away from him. It scared him.

  He stepped closer and took her hand in his. “Hey,” he stroked her cheek. “You okay?”

  He really needed her to be okay. Not great or even good, but he needed her to be okay. He needed her to put one foot in front of the other. Hell, he could carry her out of this darkness as long as she had the will to take air in and out of her lungs.

  “Yeah,” she squeaked out. She stared at the water as it flowed into the tub, as if transfixed by the swirling liquid. She leaned over and put a hand into the stream and adjusted the knob. “I want it hot.”

  Mike didn’t want to leave her alone, yet he wasn’t going to invite himself into her bath. He stood there awkwardly, unsure of what she needed from him. “I’ll just be in the bedroom.” He tilted his head in the direction of his room. He hated this. He felt so fucking useless.

  She looked down at the t-shirt that hung way too big on her, grabbed the hem and slipped it over her head. Her shoulders ached with the movement. Would she always remember the pain? “We should wash this stuff before you give them back to Cole,” she stated matter-of-factly, handing Cole’s t-shirt to Mike.

  She stood there braless, still looking into the tub. She’d thrown her bra away, along with the shirt, jeans, and underwear that she’d worn that day. She didn’t want any reminder of Pacey. She didn’t want to see those articles of clothing hanging in her closet and waste one thought on him. She was going to eradicate him from her mind with the power of a mental nuclear weapon. Any and all trace of him would be totally obliterated. It would be as if he never existed.

  She undid the knot keeping the sweatpants up and loosened the waistband. They easily fell to her ankles. “I’m glad Cole had these clothes in his SUV,” she said, her voice void of emotion.

  Mike hated the way she spoke. Almost as if she were a robot spouting programmed words. “Me too,” Mike said. She was clearly in shock. That was to be expected. She’d been through a harrowing experience.

  Perhaps he was in shock too, only he wasn’t dealing with denial or overwhelming emotions. He felt one emotion. Anger.

  No. Maybe two emotions. Rage.

  No. He needed to be honest, there were possibly three emotions roiling through him. He needed to add guilt to the list.

  Alisha stepped into the water. She inhaled sharply as the hot water stung the raw skin around her ankles.

  “You okay?” Mike asked when she winced. He held out his hand to steady her. She placed her hand in his.

  “Yes.” She nodded and relished the strength she received from him. Then she sat down in the soothing heat and let out a heavy sigh. “Do you have a rubber band?” Her hair was going to get all wet if she didn’t put it up.

  “In my office.” Mike rushed to his office. Opened his desk drawer and grabbed a few rubber bands. He wasn’t sure what size she’d want. He also ran to the kitchen to grab a glass and the medication the hospital had prescribed for her.

  He usually did well under pressure, but right now he felt helpless. This was how he felt when his sister died. His parents had been numb. They either walked around the house like zombies, or their emotions poured from them in overwhelming, mournful cries. He knew that was coming, the tears. But Alisha was clearly a fighter, a survivor, and he’d help her recognize that in herself.

  He held his palm out in front of her, offering her the rubber band and the pill.

  “Thanks,” she said. She popped the pill in her mouth and took a swig of water. Then she handed him the glass and took the rubber band. She put her hair up in a messy bun and lay back. The hot water embraced her, soothed her.

  Mike turned to leave, but he was staying close. He’d sit on his bed and watch her. He didn’t want her to fall asleep in the tub. The medication was sure to wipe her out.

  “Stay,” she said. She draped one hand over the edge of the tub. “I don’t want to be alone.”

  “I’m here for you, babe,” Mike soothed. He sat beside the tub, crossing his legs like he did as a kid. He cradled her hand as it draped over the edge of the tub.

  They sat in silence for a while, his hand stroking hers. She stared into the shiny porcelain of the tub as if she were reading a mesmerizing book. Mike wanted to ask her what she was thinking, what was going on inside her head, but he knew she was processing the night.

  Alisha had to say it. She had to get the words out. Make them real. She hadn’t known if she’d be able to do it, but she had. She was a different person now.

  She took a deep breath and a tear trickled down her cheek. She stared into Mike’s eyes and said, “I killed him.” Here it was. The moment she admitted it, said the words. She was a killer.

  “You did what you had to do,” Mike replied. “You saved that woman. You saved yourself.”

  She broke down. Tears flowed and she pulled her legs to her chest and sobbed. Within seconds he was naked and sitting behind her. He pulled her to his chest, slid his legs along the edge of the tub and wrapped his arms around her. She lay cradled in his arms and cried.

  He felt her sobs as he held her against him. He let her cry. She was cleansing her soul of the bastard.

  Mike realized something that perhaps she didn’t. She wasn’t crying because of the death of Pacey. She was crying for the loss of her innocence. The bastard had robbed her of the joy of naiveté.

  When her tears slowed, she pressed his hand tight against her belly. “I killed him.”

  Mike stroked her hair, trying to bring her comfort. Her bun had been annoying his chin for a while, but he didn’t know how to deal with it. She was so comfortable lying against him, and he relished the feel of her, so he just dealt with the annoying hair slipping between his lips occasionally.

  “You saved Mary’s life. You saved your own life,” Mike said, pushing the annoying bun to the side. He was thankful the bastard was dead. She would eventually come to terms with that and then move on. If the bastard had lived, she’d have to deal with a trial and then court hearings. He’d come up for early release from prison, and she’d have to deal with that. Now she could close the book on him. Pacey was done. Finished. She’d figure that out with time. Pacey’s death was the best solution to this problem.

  “Hmmm,” she murmured.

  “You saw the bathroom. The man was a monster. He’d planned the whole thing. You did the only thing you could do.”

  Alisha eased forward and turned to look at Mike. “What makes someone do that? Kidnap someone and try to kill another?”

&nb
sp; Mike could list all the reasons he could come up with, but none would truly make sense to someone like Alisha because her heart was too good. “He was a delusional, selfish bastard who only cared about himself.”

  “Hmm,” Alisha nodded. “I’d have to agree with you.” She looked at the raw skin around her wrists, hoping the marks wouldn’t scar. “The water’s getting cold. Can we get in bed?”

  “Of course.” Mike stood, and the water trailed down his body. He stepped onto the bath mat and grabbed two towels. He handed one to her. She wrapped herself up and stepped onto the bath mat with him.

  “I left my pajamas in the other room,” she said.

  “I’ll get them for you.”

  She pulled out the rubber band and shook her head. Her hair spilled down around her shoulders. “Don’t bother.” She left the bathroom and walked into his room. She pulled down the bed covers and slipped between the sheets.

  He was fine with sleeping in the nude. He slid in beside her and pulled up the covers. She pressed herself against him. He draped his arm over her waist and listened to her breathe. Between the soothing bath and the medication, she was asleep within minutes.

  Alisha awoke the next morning with Mike’s body pressing against her. She smiled to herself, thankful that she had him. She stroked his arm that lay protectively over her waist and nestled a little closer. Her body was sore from being stretched out, but she was willing to let him work out some of the kinks.

  Right now she wanted to feel him. She wanted to feel alive. She wanted him to erase all of the horrors from her mind. She reached her hand back and caressed his ass, allowing her nails to slowly drag over his skin, and his reaction was immediate. A low growl rumbled in her ear as he pressed himself against her more tightly.

  “Good morning,” he moaned as his hand found her breast. Her nipple hardened as his fingers played with the bud.

  “Morning,” she replied, rolling onto her back. She gazed up at him, taking his length into her hand. She enjoyed the feel of his soft skin as a bead of precum seeped from him.