Sweet Seduction Stripped (Sweet Seduction, Book 7) Page 12

  But if I had, Jaxon could have just re-entered the code and restarted the bomb at Sweet Seduction. There was no choice. I'd had to stay.

  Sacrificing my freedom for the lives of those at Sweet Seduction. For Ric's friends.

  I'd just completed the code necessary to block any access to the bomb placed at the café when a figure appeared at the door. The lights were still off, he was just a shadow. Large, dark, and incredibly angry.

  I took a step back form the laptop, my hands resting ineffectually at my sides, and lifted my chin.

  "Do your worst, Jaxon," I said evenly, pulling on the memory of courage I'd seen in that photo in my mind. All while my entire body shook. "This time you don't get to win."

  He took a step into the room... and then yelled.

  Chapter 15

  Are You Ready?

  "What the fuck are you still doing here?" He shouted to be heard over the din outside in the hall. "Why didn't you run?" he asked. "You are the craziest woman I have ever met."

  I smiled. He'd called me a woman.

  "I have a right mind to throttle you, but the place is about to fucking come down around our ears and I've lost sight of Harding."

  "Ric," I said, still stunned, as he reached my side.

  "The one and only, sweetheart," he rumbled, amusement in his voice despite his earlier volume and the anger in his tone when he'd arrived. "Were you expecting someone else? No way would I let Adam come and get you, that bastard is asking for a beat down."

  I started laughing. I was sure it was inappropriate right then.

  "Come on, you," Ric said, gripping my hand in his larger one. "Let's run while we still can." My laughter stopped short.

  He started leading me toward the still dark hallway and said, "I've got her," to no one in particular.

  I glanced around the murky darkness to see if anyone was there, when Ric added, "You can stop playing with them on the roof, Ben, and retreat. Abi," he went on, making me realise he was talking to his team, wherever they the hell they were, "How's the front looking? We're about to cross the clubroom floor."

  A pause in his talking and our walking as he ducked his head around the door and checked that it was clear. He started pulling me forward again as he said, "We could use that secondary distraction about now, Adam."

  A few long seconds later, just as we finished navigating the ominously blackened hall and came to the door that led to Champagne & Chandeliers, another boom rocked the building covering us both in dust.

  "Is this whole place about to collapse?" I asked, shoulders hunching, heart thumping, sweat making the dust that coated the air stick to my skin and itch.

  "Just flash grenades and gas cannisters. All distraction tactics, nothing permanent."

  Part of me was relieved at his words. I may have wanted to run and have nothing to do with C&C anymore, but not all of the employees were bad. Surely, not all of them knew exactly who and what they were working for. I'd only just discovered and I had slept with the boss. There had to be innocents hidden in this building, and they did not deserve to die if it fell.

  But part of me was worried. Flash grenades and gas cannisters. How long would it hold security back? How long would it distract?

  "Now or never," Ric whispered, gripping my hand tighter and reaching for the door at the end of the hall.

  I nodded and we walked through, a gun I hadn't seen before out in Eric's hand. The lights were off in the clubroom too. It seemed like a dark void, endless and ominous. The odd muffled sound from various parts of the building, echoing through the high vaulted space, bouncing off the sparse furniture.

  My foot crunched glass into the floor, fragments of it stuck to the soles of my shoe, making me think, what with the sharp smell of spirits, that the glass was from the bar and included the ten thousand dollar Scotch. In an abstract way, I thought it was such a waste.

  And then I realised what a ridiculous thought that was to have right now and hurried to keep up with Ric.

  He wasn't bothering to tell me to be quiet, we were obviously going for a speedy exit, rather than a stealthy one. But the darkness in the room seemed to thrum with threatening violence. I was sure we weren't going to make it to the other side.

  I could still hear whatever battle was going on in the distant parts of the building, but closer to us my frantic breaths made minor sounds disappear. Hell, I could hear the beat of my heart, inside my head, as though someone was banging a hammer against my skull. Eric wasn't making a sound, though. Not even when he walked. I seemed to hit every single broken piece of glass, but he was silent, like a ninja, floating across the floor.

  It didn't matter how quiet he was. I was making enough sound for anyone to track us, even though I attempted to tip-toe, hold my breath, and think feather-light thoughts.

  We'd made it three quarters of the way across the room when he appeared. A dark shadow peeling off the wall, as though he'd simply watched us approach and waited to make his move when we were too close to retreat. Ric pushed me sideways, making me skid across the wooden floor, hit a chair leg and then land in sharp edged debris, that I guessed was more fucking glass. I lifted my hand, struggling to my feet, already aware of the blood that dribbled down my wrist, trickling through the bangles on my arm.

  It took mere seconds for me to regain my footing, but by then Ric and Jaxon were throwing punches in the darkness, the odd grunt and harsh expulsion of air the only sounds that let me know fists were hitting flesh. My hand came up to the bruise on my cheek reflexively, the memory of the force Jaxon had put behind his swing too fresh.

  "Stop it!" I managed to yell, taking a step forward and then jumping back when a table flew past my face. I couldn't tell who had thrown it.

  "Go back to the office, Amber!" Jaxon growled, as if I would obey him still.

  "Just stop it!" I tried, louder, harder. Desperation making my voice sound unlike my own.

  Jaxon landed a particularly nasty upper cut to Ric's jaw, making him fly backwards through the air like a surreal fight scene in a movie and land in a loud thump several feet away. My breath caught in my throat, my heart ceased all beating and I knew, I knew, I would not survive him being killed.

  Eric Shaw was still a stranger. But RiC3.1415 was my friend.

  I threw myself onto Jaxon's back like a deranged monkey. Screaming and hitting, probably quite ineffectually, as I let all my rage and disappointment and fear of the past two days come out in a whirlwind of frantic punches, desperate scratches and outrageous snarls.

  It felt good to let go. An outlet to all the pent up emotion Jaxon had caused. I have never been so scared as I have been these past few hours. Only hours, I realised. Not even two days. And I had lived a lifetime of fear and angst in that time. And all because of this man.

  A shrill scream of defiance escaped my lips, a battle cry as effective as any warrior's. But I am not a warrior and I was beginning to think that Jaxon just might be, because in the next instant I was flung from his back, over his shoulder and simply thrown away. Across the room again, but this time so much harder and faster, until I landed heavily against the bar, my head flying backwards and connecting with the solid wood. The sound of a crack distinctive in the unexpected silence that followed.

  Then, "Amber!" Ric's voice. Desperate, pained, alarmed. And a roar.

  It was hard to tell who the roar belonged to, my ears were buzzing, my vision was sparking, but I knew there was still no electricity to light the clubroom, so that had to be all me. But despite my auditory and visual disabilities, I could tell the two men were fighting again. Worse than before.

  The grunts louder. The moans more pain-filled. The snarls, animal-like. I blinked, kept sucking in air and then tried to sit up. The world tilted and my bruised cheek hit the wooden floor, broken glass digging into sensitive skin. I whimpered. It was lost in amongst the harsh sounds from across the room.

  Furniture breaking. Something shattering, sounded like glass, but because they were away from the bar and the sound
had been like a sonic boom, I was going with one of the six chandeliers that adorned the high ceiling in the clubroom. I had a moment where I tried to figure out how they'd reached it, then I was struggling to right myself again, determined to be ready if Jaxon was the one who made it out of this encounter alive.

  My bangles jingled merrily on my wrist, I grimaced at the incongruity and shook them out when they pinched my flesh, feeling the dangling dragon tickle my skin. I grasped it, sucked in more air, blinked back shocks of white and red in front of my eyes and then rubbed my finger over the head, finding the ruby of its eye. I tried to focus on what was happening, but all I could hear was a type of rage that did not belong to men.

  So, throwing caution to the wind, I pressed down hard on the device, praying it linked back to Eric's ASI and someone somewhere would come. Because it was obvious he wasn't going to survive.

  And if he didn't survive...

  "Amber?" I heard Ric say, then a harsh grunt as someone pushed out agony-filled air.

  "Don't you fucking say her name!" Jaxon snarled, making me realise the grunt had definitely been Ric's, the hit because he'd called out to me.

  "Fuck you!" he spat back, and something wet hit the floor, probably blood. "Amber," he tried again, this time no grunt followed, he was better prepared. "Are you OK?"

  "Yes," I replied, managing to hide the affects of the agony parade going on inside my head.

  "Your panic alarm," Ric added, then nothing while a flurry of hits landed on someone. Him or Jaxon, I didn't know.

  My heart fell. The panic alarm led to Ric and no one else. No cavalry was coming. And from the sounds of it, he didn't have long. A cry sounded out, followed by Jaxon laughing. A maniacal villainous sound. Then, ominously, something dragging across the wooden floor.

  "Running, Shaw?" Jaxon growled. He sounded so calm, so in control, not even out of breath. "They should have sent someone else. You're hardly up for this kind of thing. Baby," he called, obviously to me and not his target, "you put your faith in the wrong man. This is ASI's IT guru. He's a geek, not a mercenary like Anscombe."

  A geek like me. Not a murderous psychopath like Jaxon. Eric might have killed a man, but he was nothing compared to Jaxon Harding.

  I prayed silently, while pulling myself up by the bar. The world felt lopsided, but because I couldn't see much, I was able to pretend to myself that everything was all right. The dragging sound was no longer alone, now a quick scuffling mixed with it. I was unable to tell what it meant, but if it was Ric, it sounded like he was frantic. Trying to get away from Jaxon? Just what had Jaxon done?

  I steadied myself suddenly, realising I was about to topple over and from standing height it wouldn't have been nice. Then reached over the bar and started feeling around for a weapon. My hand landed on a tray of intact glasses, all standing upside down in their dedicated plastic slots, so they had been protected to some degree from the fallout of the building's assault.

  I heard Jaxon chuckle, my head turning to the sound, trying to locate him by the noise alone. I raised a glass, it was solid - no cheap glassware for Champagne & Chandeliers - aware my aim was possibly going to be a little off in my current state, and also conscious of the fact that I might hit Eric if he was too close. My pulse beat mercilessly in my throat as sweat dribbled into my eyes making me blink the salty sting away. I was rasping for breath, but it wasn't all fatigue. I was shit scared again.

  This time not only for what would befall me. But for Ric, who was still trying to get away from Jaxon, as Jaxon's laugh got louder and louder. Amusement and derision washing off him, making it easy to sense exactly where he stood.

  I hefted the glass higher, my eyes blindly staring at the spot that I knew Jaxon to be in. My head tilted, trying to locate Eric, trying to triangulate all the players in this room. There was just three of us, but one was at present unaccounted for on my mental map. Somewhere near Jaxon, who was approaching like a sleek, dangerous tiger enjoying playing with his prey.

  "Ric?" I said into the room, making Jaxon stop laughing and growl. I just needed a sound, something more than the mouse-like scuffles I could hear. Something that told me he was far enough away from Jaxon for me to start throwing.

  "Hang tight, Dancer," came the reply.

  My chest expanded on a breath of relieved in-drawn air, as I let the glass go in the direction of Jaxon. Still more than four feet away from where I estimated Ric to be. At the moment before the projectile connected, a flare of light exploded, almost blinding me, but not as shocking as the sound of a gun going boom.

  For a split second, I saw Ric on the floor on his back, hands fisted around a gun, his body pointed toward Jaxon, the aim slightly off. But it was bright enough to illuminate the space between the two men, letting me see Jaxon duck and the glass shoot right over his fucking head.

  I growled, my eyes light blinded, my ears thrumming with the too close sound of a gun going off, and I hurled a second and a third glass at where Jaxon had moved to. Both of them shattering uselessly on the floor.

  The gun went off again. This time Eric was aiming at the ceiling, clearly unsure where Jaxon was, but aware I was using the flare of the muzzle as guidance. Jaxon was several feet to the right, further away from Ric. He hadn't advanced as I thought he would. He'd retreated, scurrying backwards, desperate to get away.

  I hurled another glass, aware both men must have disarmed one another initially, and that was what Ric had been trying to find; his weapon. Jaxon was obviously still without his, but for how long? He may have been retreating, but I saw him use the illumination of Ric's second flash to search for his own weapon.

  The glass shattered, at a guess, near Jaxon's feet. The second hit. He yelled, an anger, not pain-filled, sound.

  "Fuck it, Amber!"

  I didn't hesitate. I threw another glass at the sound of his voice. A grunt followed, then a thump. Then... silence.

  Holy shit. I'd hit his head. I'd knocked him out.

  I heard shuffling over by where I thought Ric still was, then the sound of him grunting and sucking in a harsh breath. But not the kind of sounds to indicate a fist to his stomach, more like an injury that had sent sharp pains though him instead.

  "Are you OK?" I asked into the darkness.

  "Stay where you are," Ric said softly. "I'm gonna check on him."

  I shook my head, felt the world tilt and grow warped, which was funny, because I couldn't see much more than shadows and darker shadows mixed in with black, but somehow it all warped and twisted despite being practically blind in here. I sucked in a breath to warn him, tell him I thought it was a bad idea, but he was already there.

  God knows how he moved so quickly, or maybe I just missed a little time. It was possible. I felt like shit, really weak and sweaty shit. The type of sensations that made you feel sick to your stomach, not sure if you should rub your belly or cradle your head.

  "Got him," Ric said. I just blinked and breathed, unable to talk at all. "He's..."

  A shout as someone grunted, then Jaxon yelled, "Take that motherfucker!" and I simply slid to the floor.

  "No, no, no, no," I kept repeating in a desperate whisper.

  "Where's the fucking gun!" Jaxon roared. "Where'd he fucking put it? Ah, fuck it," he exclaimed and I heard an horrific sound.

  For a second, I couldn't be sure what it was, but my mind, despite its tender state, reminded me of what I saw earlier tonight. The image of Jaxon kicking Derek Marks between the legs. The picture was perfect inside my head, but it took a few more seconds for the sound his shoe had made as he effected the action to register and for me now to connect the dots.

  He'd just kicked Ric. Possibly in the balls. But Ric hadn't made a sound, so I was thinking he was already unconscious. Which was good. And bad. Good, possibly for him.

  Bad for me.

  "Now," Jaxon said, moving closer. Each step feeling like a gunshot through my entire frame. "You have been a very, very bad girl, Amber."

  I whimpered. Actually fucking whi
mpered. And that just made me fuming mad. How much more could this bastard put me through? How much more devastation could he cause?

  I clenched my fist at my side on the floor, feeling the sharp cut of glass and the consequent blood flow over my palm. I released my grip, felt the glass stay where it was embedded, so yanked it out with my other hand.

  It was long. Probably did some serious damage to my nerve endings, but I was beyond caring right now. Sickening sensations all mixed up and jumbled together, my brain unable to decipher which were potentially lethal when Death stalked my weakened body.

  He stopped in front of me and just stood there. I wondered what he could see. The lights were all out still, no windows in this part of the building. Nothing but darkness, not even shadows. But maybe that was me. Because I was sure there'd been shadows earlier, and now I just couldn't see.

  Not good, my brain told me. My heart only fluttered pathetically in agreement.

  "I think you need to learn a lesson, baby," Jaxon purred. He seemed excited at the prospect, which didn't bode well. "Are you ready?" But didn't wait for an answer, maybe he did know me well. "You probably won't like it, but baby, I promise it'll only hurt at first."

  Oh, hell no.

  I swiped out with the shard of glass, catching his shin. He must have jumped back and sideways reflexively, because my next swipe, as my body fell forward with the momentum of the force I'd used, met the side of his leg, down low, across his calf, just above his ankle. He went down screaming. The type of sound that meant I'd done some serious damage.

  Achilles, I thought. He wouldn't be able to walk for a while, so I took the opportunity and scrambled away as far as I could, unsure where exactly I was going.

  I couldn't leave Ric. I just couldn't, but the desire to run was so acute, despite my body physically being unable to effect that outcome. I did, though, manage to put as much space between me and a still moaning and swearing Jaxon. Somehow my movements subconsciously taking me in the direction of where I thought Ric last lay.