HelenKay Dimon - The Big Guns

He squealed as his gun fell to the hard floor and his body slammed into the porch post. In a flurry of profanity, he slipped to the ground. A crimson stain seeped from around the new wound.

Sela wanted to run, but her legs wouldn’t move. Too much of her energy went to keep from screaming. She didn’t have anything left in that second for an escape.

Zach kicked Johnnie’s gun, sending it sliding off the edge of the porch. In the next breath, Zach snatched his supposedly lost gun from behind his back and aimed it at Johnnie. “Don’t you ever threaten her again.”

Johnnie heaved and coughed. “Whatcha want with her?”

“That’s my business.”

Wrong, it was her business. And not knowing provided the perfect reason to get the hell out of there. She inched back toward the wall and started to do just that. If she could keep Zach focused on Johnnie, she had a chance to escape. To where, she had no idea. Preferably somewhere without a gun.

“Don’t even think about it, Sela.”

She froze at the sound of Zach’s husky voice. “What?”

“Whatever it is you’re planning in that head of yours.”

“I didn’t… I…”

“You’re coming inside with me.”

Wrong, wrong, wrong. She’d tried playing along. Maybe begging would work. “Let me go, Zach, please.”

“This isn’t a bargain.” He grabbed her elbow. “We have some things to talk about.”

She tried to break his hold but wasn’t any more successful this time than the last. “You’re going to regret this.”

“I have no doubt.”

Trevor Walters paced the length of his office from the door to the windows towering behind his desk. With every step, the memory of the call played in his mind. The toneless whisper of the male voice and the threat.

It is over. All ends will be tied.

That was three weeks ago. Three weeks after the WitSec mess screamed to a halt and he reached a tenuous new peace agreement with the Recovery Project. Even now he waited for the windows to implode and the agents to storm in with guns at the ready.

Except for the soft hum of the computers set up on the credenza, the executive suite remained quiet. The main offices one floor down buzzed with the usual decreased level of weekend-morning activity. His was an around-the-clock business. He set strategies in place for businesses that sent employees into dangerous locations. He could handle the worst, often did.

Ever since Recovery agent Adam Wright breached the office’s security and infiltrated Trevor’s office with weapons aimed at his head, no one got up on the private elevator and his floor without his express approval. He hadn’t granted it to anyone except the two guards stationed by the elevator. Visitors or Orion employees trying to get in would need the security codes and the guts to get through men with guns.

Except for Sela. She worked on the floor. She belonged there.

Being at work on a Sunday wasn’t unusual for him, but he was there on this Sunday, at this predawn hour, because she called with an emergency. Since starting as his assistant almost a year before, she’d been consistent. His most loyal supporter. As his life fell apart and his ex-wife raged in the newspapers about the need to limit his access to their son, Sela stood strong.

She ignored the whispered comments about sleeping with the boss and concentrated on her work. In return, he piled even more responsibility on her. She was the only one who knew about the extent of his surveillance on the Recovery agents. She coordinated the information he gathered and kept her mouth shut.

She was a valued assistant. And she was running late today. That never happened. From the wobble in her voice, the rushed words over the phone a few hours earlier, he knew something had happened.

Now she didn’t answer her home phone or cell. Her desk chair was empty and she didn’t leave a message after the one begging him to come to the office immediately.

She was missing.

Sela, with her integral knowledge of his dealings, could very well be a loose end to be tied. Her death would guarantee her silence and his.

Trevor didn’t waste another minute. He slipped between his desk and his chair. Typing in the code to his bottom right drawer, he opened the small safe and pulled out the gun. He brushed his fingers over the cool metal. The weapon felt good in his hands, solid.

He ran a multi-million-dollar business, but he wasn’t the type to just sit behind a desk. He’d taken the time to learn how to shoot. And he would use those skills to protect Sela. He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

SELA SAT ON THE COUCH and rubbed her knee. The chair barricading the door ensured she couldn’t get out before Zach could get to her.

But that didn’t stop her from talking. “Zach, you’re not listening to me.”

He stopped counting the number of times she said that sentence. Pretty soon he’d need a calculator to do the addition. “That’s right.”

“You have a chance here.”

“Uh-huh. A chance.” He rattled around the kitchen drawers until he found rope sturdy enough to hold Johnnie once he regained consciousness.

Zach checked for weapons. Also looked for a phone and evidence of a partner or a real boss. This time.

Seeing Sela run into the dark woods had rocked his concentration enough to make him screw up that big. In his rush to get to her before anyone else could grab her, he’d failed to watch his flank. He’d let Johnnie launch an offensive strike that could have taken Sela out, anyway.

Zach wanted to kick his own butt for missing the obvious.

And Sela wanted to talk him to death.

Somewhere in the past few minutes she’d decided he was one of the bad guys and was set on redeeming him. She kept up her motivational speech from her seat on the couch. “You’re on a road to nowhere.”

“Actually, I’m not sure what town we’re in.”

“What?”

“Nowhere is probably ten miles to our east.” He wrapped the rope around Johnnie’s legs and arms and pulled tight, making a perfect military knot.

While Sela lobbied her position, Zach did what he could to stop the bleeding on Johnnie’s shoulder and chest. He added a gag, just in case Johnnie woke up yelling. As a final protection, Zach dragged the injured man across the floor and locked him in the tiny bathroom. No need to see him if he wasn’t conscious to answer questions.

“He could die in there,” she pointed out when Zach returned to stand in front of her at the couch.

“I’m rarely that lucky.”

“Zach.”

Hearing her say his name, with her big brown eyes all soft and hopeful, made him feel something. He couldn’t put a name to the feeling but an unsettling sense of lightness poured over him. Rather than deal with that unknown, he focused on his other problem. Getting them out of there alive.

She had other ideas. “You’re still not listening to me.”

“I’m trying very hard not to, but you sure are not making it easy.”

Her chin raised and a deep red stained her cheeks. He’d seen that look many times since he’d started watching her. There was something else, too. Her eyes, glazed with distress and fear, told a different story.

He felt like a piece of crap for not seeing it sooner. She had to be in pain. A bruise marked her soft skin. A torn blouse. Swollen knee. Seeing her hurt made him sick.

He didn’t dwell on the sympathy but there it was, pulsing in the dark spot in the back of his mind. “Let me see your leg and check that cut.”

She braced her hands against the sofa cushions. “I’m fine.”

And ticked off. The beautiful woman with the model face and stripper body definitely was not happy.

Leaning down on one knee, he met her face-to-face. “Don’t be a hero, Sela. You’re injured.”