Mine to Have (Mine #5)(2)
Author: Cynthia Eden

No, she hadn’t.  Jenny had been a good woman and a standout FBI agent. Saxon’s back teeth  ground together. “I only want an hour, then you can have her back.”   Lies and truth didn’t matter to Saxon. They couldn’t. Not in the world he lived in.

“She’s got to suffer,” Kurt said, as if that should be obvious. “Her pain is part of the deal.”  The gun was still pressed to Saxon’s chest. An annoyance.  One that Kurt would regret.

Saxon looked down at the gun. “How much were you paid for her?”

“Ten thousand.”

The woman was trying to talk behind Saxon’s hand.  Muttering frantically.

“And unless you’re going to give me ten grand for that hour with her—then you need to get the hell out of here. Because I’m supposed to be dumping her body in forty-five minutes.”

Her muttering stopped.

Saxon sighed. “It just couldn’t be easy…”

“What?” Kurt demanded.

“My night.”  Then Saxon grabbed the gun, he jerked it right out of Kurt’s grip because the idiot hadn’t been expecting him to attack.  Saxon drove his elbow into Kurt’s face and heard the bones crack as the guy’s nose broke. The goons in the back lunged forward. They were drawing their own weapons.

Saxon shot them.  He didn’t kill them, because killing hadn’t been on his agenda, not that night anyway.  But the men went down, groaning in pain.

The guy he’d taken down when he first came  into the room—that guy tried to play hero again.  He tackled Saxon, sending them both to the floor. Only Saxon was stronger in that little fight, and a fast slam had the guy’s head hitting the rough cement that served as the floor, and the guy didn’t bounce back to his feet.

Kurt rushed out the door.  The coward had let his men fight while he ran. Now Kurt probably thought he’d get more backup from the others in The Blade.  And if the guy brought more folks in there, Saxon would have to keep fighting. “I don’t have time for this shit,” Saxon muttered.

He pulled his knife from the sheath around his left ankle. Then he headed toward the blonde. He hadn’t thought it would be possible for her eyes to get any bigger, but they were huge right then.

“Please, don’t…there has to be a mistake! I—ahh!”

The knife sliced through her ropes and her scream cut off.

He hauled her up and onto her feet. “Here’s how this is going down, sweetheart.”

She was staring at him in shock. Right, like women hadn’t done that before.  But then she gave a hard shake of her head. “I’m…Elizabeth. Elizabeth Ward. I need—”

He waved that away. They could talk about needs later. Right now, it was ass-hauling time. “We’re going out the back. You’re not going to scream. You’re not going to fight me. Because if you do either of those things, you’ll be dead.”

Her lips were full, plump, and currently trembling. “Y-you’ll kill me?”

He grabbed her arm and ran for the back door.  “Have you realized it yet? I’m your hero.  The only guy who can keep you alive.” He shoved open that door, and they ran into the back alley. It was pitch black out there because it was a cloudy night and they had no stars or moonlight to spill down on them.

Voices shouted behind him. Uh, oh. He glanced back. Kurt had come with his reinforcements. “Should have given me my hour,” Saxon called out to the prick. “So now…I’ll just take more.”

He kept his  grip  tight on her and hauled ass.  Lucky for them both, he had excellent night vision—and a motorcycle that wasn’t too far away.  He jumped on his bike, shoved the helmet at her, and had that engine growling to sweet life in seconds.

“Get on,” he ordered her.

She hesitated.

Kurt shouted, “Bitch, I will kill—”

She got on the motorcycle.

Saxon’s hands flexed around the handlebars. “Hold on. Tight.”

Her fingers tentatively curled around him.

“Tight,” he snapped. What the hell? Did she think they were about to go for a Sunday drive?

Gunfire blasted at them. He ducked, and those bastards were lucky because their bullets missed his bike. If they’d hit his ride, he would have gone back and kicked their asses—mission orders or no orders.

He revved the engine then turned around—and headed right for his pursuers.

Kurt was shouting orders.  The others were trying to make a human wall in that alley, sealing Saxon and his blonde inside.  So he just went straight for the wall of bodies. If the guys didn’t get out of his way, he’d go right over them—no, right through them.

More gunfire blasted. The bullet came so close to Saxon’s arm that he could almost feel the burn on his skin. I’m lucky they don’t have better aim. Then the fools were scrambling out of his way even as the blonde behind him held on with a tight, death grip.

They raced into the night.  And he didn’t look back, not even once.

***

Elizabeth Ward held onto the man before her for dear life.  He was riding that giant beast of a motorcycle way too fast. The wind whipped around her, her thighs vibrated from the powerful engine, and her hands—her hands were locked around the guy who’d been called Saxon.

Hero, my ass. She’d seen the way the guy looked at her. She knew what he planned to do.  Kurt had been intent on Elizabeth’s torture and death. This guy—big, blond, and scary as all hell—had other plans.

He wanted her.  There had been no mistaking the flare of lust in his eyes, and if she didn’t get away from him soon, Elizabeth was afraid she’d be facing a whole new nightmare.

He turned off the road. They’d zigged and zagged all over Miami, and she had no clue where they were right then.  Wait, no, check that—they were in another alley. Near another rundown building. Lost.

Only, this time, he actually stopped the bike. He threw down the kickstand and killed the engine.

“I think we ditched them.”  Because Kurt and his jerk battalion had tried to follow them. Only Kurt hadn’t been able to keep up with the motorcycle, not when it cut so easily through the city.

Unlike Elizabeth, Mr. Big, Scary, and Dangerous wasn’t wearing a helmet. Probably because the guy had a death wish. Probably because—

“You can let go now.” His voice was the deepest, darkest rumble she’d ever heard, and it actually took a few seconds for his words to sink in.