Less than twenty-four hours after receiving her message, Sam disembarked from a plane on Little Cayman. Old contacts had come through for him, providing the IDs and permits necessary for landing privileges. Another contact supplied him with the use of a tour helicopter. Not his favorite, but it would provide him with a legitimate cover. He also had the weapons he needed to act as a one-man army. He tracked her as far as a villa on the other side of the private island. Flying off the coast, he kept his distance and used binoculars. He was able to identify her on a balcony, with the dead man’s hands on her ass again.
She seemed all right, so he monitored the situation.
He left only when he needed to refuel, then returned. For the next ten hours, he watched and waited. The villa seemed to be hopping with a private party spilling out of the building at all hours. Getting in wouldn’t be difficult.
Though he considered infiltrating the party and joining her, he nixed the idea for now. Her escape might be better facilitated with him on the outside. He received no further messages in his private email box, nor did he pick up any activity on her credit card. He’d seen her once, but no evidence of her leaving. So, he maintained his vigil. Twice, he was warned off for drifting too close to the island’s airspace, but he played the part of aspiring tour guide trying to learn it all, much to the amusement of the private security.
Unfortunately, that private islandwassecure, much like a fortress. Though it had a small landing strip and a couple of roads, the only real structure was the villa—a private escape or the perfect prison. No local law enforcement lived on the island, and only a security force maintained it.
After a break to refuel, he returned to his vigil just in time to see an explosion of light and smoke detonate near the cliff stairs. The huge plume of smoke that went up in the detonation carried out, even across the water.
Must be his cue. Angling the helicopter, he headed in the direction of the beach. She was going to need a fast escape or someone to save her. He arrived just in time to see her to go flying as a man twice her size attacked her. Aggravating as the sight was, his girl held her own, right down to sticking her expensive shoes into the guy’s neck. Sam winced, as he wasn’t sure who he felt more sympathy for in that fight. Grasping the controls with his knees he reached for a sniper rifle, then angled so he could take a shot.
He’d just gotten into position when another explosion took out her attacker. Messy, but effective. She’d been running, but the force of the detonation flung her into the surf. Above her, more security guards poured onto the damaged stairs.
Lowering the rifle, he grasped the controls and took the helicopter down to hover over the beach. Flinging open the door, he glanced over and said, “Well, come on then, you stupid git.”
Her smile fisted around his heart. It was both fierce and beautiful. It also didn’t have a shred of gratitude in it. She ran barefoot toward him, then raised her gun and fired once. Fortunately, not at him this time. She hopped inside. Keeping the door open and one foot on the tail, she continued to fire. “Ammo.”
With one had holding them steady, he ripped open his bag, then identified the slide loader by touch. Passing it over, she wasted no time slotting it into her Glock 17 before she returned to firing.
“You want to get us out of here?”
“I can, but you seem to be having a good time, and I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Just fly the fucking helicopter.”
“As my lady wishes.” He turned the helicopter away, heading for open water. As soon as they cleared the beach, she closed the door and leaned back in the seat. Panting, bruised, and soaking wet, she was still the best-looking woman he’d ever seen.
“Just get me to an airport. I’ll take it from there.”
Sam said nothing. She wanted to go to an airport? Great, he knew just the place. Then, he and his girl were going to have a nice long chat.
“Hello, Addison, how are you? I haven’t seen you since you shot me.”
“I’m still armed. You want to keep making smart remarks?”
Sam considered the threat level, then remembered she could fly a helicopter.Ah, what the hell. “Danger’s my middle name, sweetheart.”
He waited for the sound of the chamber being reloaded. When he didn’t, he glanced over to find her staring at him. “How are you even still alive?”
“I’m a bad penny, Addy. I always turn up.”
Chapter 3
He’d come. Some part of her had known the moment she sent the message. It was a gamble, but one she would win. Sam Reese was thirty-eight, Caucasian, had black hair, brown eyes, a square jaw, and an Australian mother—though he’d been raised in Kent—who just happened to be a former assassin for MI6…and the only man she loved, outside of her brother.
He was also the only man she’d ever tried to kill and left alive.
“You look like hell.” Those were the first words she cared to say, considering the manic grin he wore and the atmosphere of glee rolling off of him as he flew them across the open water.
“You look hot, as always. A gun always fit you well.” All sarcasm aside, a gun had never fit her well. She’d become extremely proficient. Trained. And she treated the weapon like an extension of her own arm—one she wished she’d never picked up in the first place.
“Bollocks.”
He laughed, and the warmth of his masculine chuckle rolled over her. No, she refused to give into the sensation of having missed him. That barge sailed many years before and needed to continue downriver.
“How much resistance should I expect when we get to the airport?” There he was. All business. She spared a glance over her shoulder at the armory he carried around with them. He’d come prepared for business.