he pushed it aside. He couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not now, tomorrow, or the next day. Not if he was going to burn out this nest of rats and exterminate them like the vermin they were.
An important key to getting that done was the man ahead, driving like a bat out of hell, trying to shake Blaze off his tail.
The sedan took the ramp and entered the freeway, no doubt hoping to lose him in an all-out race, or hoping he’d wipe out. Spotting an opening in traffic, he shot the gap and floored the accelerator, closing the distance between him and the sedan. It was a dark Infiniti, he could see as he drew near and began to pull even with the driver’s side. Jerking the wheel, he slammed into the other car, causing it to swerve.
The driver, a big bald man, bared his teeth and stuck his arm out the window, firing off two shots. Blaze ducked as his passenger’s window exploded in a shower of glass, then sat upright, swerving just in time to miss rear-ending a car that
“Jesus.” Close call.
He pushed it to catch up again, and rammed the Infiniti’s left rear quarter panel, not giving the assassin another shot at him. Christ, they were attracting all sorts of attention, having an all-out battle on the highway. Someone had probably already called the cops, and he absolutely could not let the police get into this situation. SHADO didn’t officially exist, and neither did its agents.
To involve the cops would entail a helluva problem making them shut up and go away, especially without learning that American citizens were under a direct terrorist threat.
He had to get this bastard off the road. Now.
Up ahead the road was all clear of traffic. A sharp embankment lay off the right shoulder of the highway. He wasn’t going to get a better chance.
Gunning it once more, he hit the rear of the sedan again and this time cut the wheel all the way to the right. The other car fish-tailed and spun around. Blaze kept coming, using his car as a battering ram, and together they hurtled down the embankment in a spray of flying shrapnel, tires squealing.
The Infiniti rolled once. Twice. Then came to a stop right side up, the driver slumped forward. Blaze leaped from the Viper, sparing a sorrowful look for his mangled pride and joy, and then turned his attention to the unconscious henchman.
The driver’s door was stuck, and he had to yank it several times before getting it open enough to get his hands on the man. “Wake up, motherfucker.” After unbuckling the seat belt, he dragged the groaning man onto the ground. “Wake up! Who’re you working for? Dietz?”
Another pitiful moan was his answer. Cursing, he grabbed his cell phone and placed a call. Bastian’s muffled voice greeted him.
“Chevalier.”
“It’s Kelly. I’ve got the assailant. He’s a little banged up, but he should be able to talk. I need a cleanup crew here fast, before the cops arrive.”
“Okay, I’m on it.” His friend sounded wretched.
“How’s Michael?” God, he dreaded the answer.
“I’m escorting him to the compound with McKay now. It’s not looking good,” he said, voice wavering.
He closed his eyes briefly, sending up a prayer to whomever was listening to cut Michael a break for once. The man deserved to live, to be happy. “Hang in there, buddy. He’ll make it, if for no other reason than to see Dietz in hell.”
“He’ll have to stand in line.” Bastian paused, and when he spoke again, steel threaded his orders. “Don’t come to the compound, any of you. I’ll keep all of you updated on his condition. Get some rest and carry on with the assignment as planned. That’s what Michael would want, and it’s what I want.”
“You’ve got it. And Bastian… when he wakes up, tell him we won’t fail.”
“I will,” he said hoarsely. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
Jesus Christ. Michael couldn’t die. He was the heart of SHADO, and his agents loved him, down to a man.
There was no way now to help Michael except to do what he knew best — his job.
And unfortunately for Dietz and his host of murderers, he’d just been handed a personal motive to succeed.
As they emerged from the sedan Blaze thanked the agent who’d given him and Emma a ride home.
“No problem, Kelly. Again, awesome job catching that bastard. We’ll make sure he doesn’t see the light of day again.”
Blaze nodded and waved, then took Emma’s hand and led her toward the front door. Rage coiled in his gut, black and dangerous, and it needed a safe outlet. Michael, Dietz, the weapon, and innocent endangered citizens all vied for the top spot among the jumble in his head, and he needed to escape. Had to before he went crazy.
Letting them inside, he locked the door and turned to Emma. She stood in the foyer staring back at him, looking as strung out as he felt.
“Come here,” he said, opening his arms.
She launched herself at him, and he held her close, inhaling her scent. Drinking in her warmth, reassuring himself that she was all right. It could easily have been Emma who’d been shot. Hell, the assassin could’ve taken out any of them before they even blinked. The idea of losing her at all, much less so cruelly and suddenly, made him want to wallow in her.
Mark her.
Tilting her head up for a kiss, he tasted her briefly before letting her go. She shrugged off her coat and tossed it in a chair, giving him a sad smile.
“I’m tired, but I doubt I could sleep if I wanted to, considering.”
“I know how to fix that.” Stepping close, he ran a finger over the swell of her breast just visible over the vee of her blouse. His cock was slowly awakening at the prospect, filling his jeans. “We’re going to spend some time in the basement.”
She blinked at him, then gave a humorless laugh. “After what happened tonight? You can’t be serious.”
“That’s exactly why we both need this,” he explained, his patience thin. His sub challenging him proved she needed a firm hand, and now he couldn’t let it go. “If we don’t release the tension, the pressure, we’ll never get any sleep, and we have to be on our toes tomorrow.”
“I can’t believe you’re thinking about sex while Michael is fighting for his life,” she spat angrily. “Forget it.”
“I’m not asking, Emma.” He injected a thread of steel into his tone.
“I don’t care.” Blue eyes snapped, and her jaw clenched.
“You will.” With that, he bent, scooped her up, and tossed her over his shoulder. Ignoring her shriek of protest, he strode for the stairs that descended to the playroom.
“You jerk! Put me down!” Her fist pounded his back uselessly.
“I will, soon as we get there.” He started down, careful not to drop her despite her wriggling.
“I mean it! I’m not putting out for you, buster,” she fumed.
“Then use your safe word.”
“What?”
“You know how it works. Use your safe word.”
Silence met his demand, and he allowed himself a small smile. Just as he’d thought — she needed this as much as he did. At the bottom, he carried her to the middle of the room and set her on her feet. “Take off your clothes.” He crossed his arms, waiting.
“Damn you.”
Tears shone in her eyes, but he held firm. “Damn me all you like — just remember I’m your master. Clothes off. Now.”
Flags of color darkened her fine cheekbones as she stared back at him, chest heaving. After several long
