Hit Hard Page 32
“I say never kick a woman when she’s down.” Viva breathed hard. “But in your case, I’ll make an exception.” With the last two words, she landed two sharp, quick punches to her face. Cartilage folded and blood poured.
Noor’s eyes rolled, legs softening, and Viva released her. She fell, her head bouncing on the stone floor.
Viva exhaled, pushed her hair out of her face. “Bitch.” She went for the gun, limping. Before she reached it, a shot fired behind her and she spun sharply. Her gaze went to Noor, half-upright, an ugly hole in her head, and a knife in her hand.
A few feet beyond, Sam stood, his gun smoking. “Next time, disarm before you turn your back on them.”
With a moan, she sank into the nearest chair. The team came in behind Sam as he rushed to her, sliding to his knees on the floor. He dragged her from the chair and into his arms, crushing her to him. Sam buried his face in her throat, breathing her in, the terror of seeing Noor with the knife poised at Viva’s back flashing in his mind.
Too close, too close, he thought.
“I’ve got to stop meeting these crazy people,” she muttered, her fingers digging into his back. The warmth and solid feel of him was more than good: it was glorious.
Sam drew back, holding her face and kissing her thoroughly. “You’re crazy enough for both of us.”
“Yeah, sure, like your life was really exciting before I came along.”
He smiled, smoothed her hair off her face, wishing for the flame-red hue. “There’s something I forgot to say before I left.”
“Shoot first, ask questions later?”
He leaned in closer, his gaze locked with hers. “I love you, Viva.”
She was so incredibly still for a moment, like a painting, frozen, and Sam knew he’d never forget that image, her eyes glossy, her hair wild. Then she opened her mouth. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
He chuckled.
“I love you, too, cowboy. When you clear out the dead blowgun bitch, I’ve got plans for you.”
Sam smiled against her mouth, laughing to himself as he fell back on his rear, the love of his life savaging his mouth and demanding more than eight seconds of his time.
Dr. Wan Gai was in his office, enjoying his morning orange tea when his new assistant knocked and entered. “Wait to be called, Nu.”
“I cannot, sir. You have company.”
Wan Gai looked up, midsip, then frowned. “Who?”
The young man gestured ineffectually, and a moment later, three men walked into his offices.
Royal Thai guards. “Welcome, welcome,” he said, standing, then coming from behind the desk, put his hand out to shake.
The man in the center slapped a handcuff on his extended wrist. The other two turned him to finish securing him.
“What is the meaning of this? You have no authority over me to do this!”
“But I do.”
Commander Anan Isarangura strolled into the office, his hands clasped behind his back. He glanced at the surroundings and made a sound of approval.
“You will not get away with this atrocity, Commander Isarangura.”
“You are charged with trafficking humans, selling a human being for intention of murder.”
“You have no proof.”
His hands still clasped, Anan Isarangura peered at a piece of Thai sculpture on a wood pedestal before he said, “Your assistant Choan is more than willing to tell your story.”
“My cousin will hear of this!”
Anan straightened and faced Wan Gai. They both knew Wan Gai spoke of the king, and Anan’s smile showed his pleasure as he said, “He already has. Your cousin signed the arrest papers.”
Wan Gai paled, his shoulders slumping. Anan waved his hand once, then joined them behind his back.
The guards escorted Wan Gai out of the museum, and as per the king’s instructions, he was given no favor for his crimes.
“Wearing high heels twice in one week, this is a record for me,” Viva said.
“I’ll get you out of them soon enough,” Sam whispered, and she gave him a promising glance before a Thai court guard escorted her into the grand room.
She was stunned by the ornate beauty of the décor, but her attention went to the throne at the end of a long intimidating walk. The guard was a few steps ahead of her, and that the king of Thailand had requested her appearance left her in complete awe.
When the guard stopped, she did. He backed away to stand beside her, never giving his back to the king.
Viva remembered protocol, the curtsy, and knew she was one of the first who was not a dignitary to be granted an audience.
The king was in his seventies, his bearing speaking of his ancestry. Great posture, she thought. His garments looked military, adorned with precious stones and gold. He spoke softly, and the guard lightly grasped her elbow and ushered her closer.
“Miss Fiori,” the king said, his voice resonant in the large room. She was formally introduced to his wife, and son, the next in line to the throne. The entire immediate family was spread out to the left and right of the king.
The prince moved near and Viva lifted her gaze. He smiled gently. “You have risked your life for our country’s treasures, and for this we are eternally grateful.”
She held out the velvet box. The prince took it, walking the steps to his father, and opened the box. The king of Thailand smiled brightly. The son backed away and His Highness gestured to the padded chair to his right.
Viva sat, hoping her slip didn’t show.
“You would like to know of this bracelet.”
“Yes, there is a legend?”
He nodded.
“Centuries ago, before society was fruitful, a Thai princess made a pilgrimage to the north. There she met a monk. As it is custom to gift monks, she gave him her most prized possession.” The king waved a hand at the bracelet on the bed of velvet.
“How did the markings get on there?”
“The monk carved them, a sign of friendship with the princess. You know of the line of temples from Cambodia?”
She nodded, swallowing, so much in awe of his gentle spirit.
“The monk etched the markings.” He waved and a servant brought him the bracelet. He turned it over in his hands several times. “In honor of the kindness between two worlds, the jewels of her eyes, the rubies of her soul, the Princess Noor shall be forever honored for her kindness.”
“Simple.”
“You thought it would be more, yes?”
“The way Dr. Wan Gai was after it I thought it would say something horrible.”
He shook his head. “Wan Gai did you a great wrong. He believed that if this were discovered that it would, to the world, prove that Cambodia and Thailand were once one region and someone, perhaps officials of Cambodia, would try to lay claim to my country.”
“But it’s a relic.”
“It is proof also that the cradle of civilization was here. Before the Chinese, before all, this is where the first society began.”
Viva had her doubts, but kept her mouth shut. Carbon tests put the age of the bracelet in the BC’s. But it was the beauty of the stones and their cut that said the Thai people were far more advanced than any archeologist gave them credit for.
“What can I do for you, Miss Fiori, to repay you for rescuing this treasure?”
She lifted her gaze, letting it skim over the royal family. “Some things don’t have a price, Your Highness.”
He nodded regally and she rose. She backed away, then, after a few feet, turned and left the throne room. Sam was there, smiling.
“Happy now?”
“Yes. But can we leave this country?”
His brows rose.
“As much as I like it, I think it’s time to go home.”
“You said you didn’t have a home.”
“Yeah, but you do.”
Grinning, Sam slung his arms around her, kissed her temple, and they left the palace. “You sure you want to meet the family?”
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“As long as they’re not incarcerated.”
“Nope, just the cows.”
Viva laughed. “You’re getting the hang of it.”
Two weeks later
West Texas
“Viva!” Sam said. “Jesus, slow down.”
“When did you get to be a wuss, Wyatt?” Viva dipped the chopper toward the big X in the middle of the field, Sam’s version of a helo pad, then slowed to lower it. It touched down and she went through the routine of shutting down the engines. “That was a blast.”
“That was heart failure. But you’re a natural.”
“It’s all that personal attention.” She leaned and kissed him.
“You just want another lesson.”
“I want a lot of things right now, but I’m done flying for today.” She glanced to the side, and Sam’s senses were assaulted with memories and wanting to make more between the sheets.
“People will be arriving,” he said when she kept kissing him. God, her mouth was amazing.
“Let ’em wait. Ever done it in the back of a chopper?”
“As a matter of fact—”
“Don’t finish that sentence, cowboy, you’ll regret it.”
She climbed out. The blades were still moving as they crossed the pasture to his house. “I think I’ll buy one.”
Sam gave her a sideways glance. “Not a cheap toy.”
“It’s okay, I’m loaded.”
Sam stopped short.
“I forgot to mention that?”
“Yeah.”
“A girl has to have secrets.”
“I can’t wait.” Sam laced his fingers with hers, and brought her hand to his mouth for a kiss. It was those little things that continued to shock and please Viva. He was rough on the outside, but a marshmallow deep down, and a real cowboy down to the core—cattle, horses, and even ranchhands.
“My father adored you,” he said.
“My father was afraid of you. A good thing, considering.”
“What other secrets do you have, Xaviera Fiori?”
His arm around her waist, she leaned into him. “Well, you already spoiled the sex-in-the-chopper thing.”
Dust kicked up and they turned as a pair of big black SUVs pulled up to the front of the house. Men spilled from the trucks and she got bear hugs from Max, Logan, and Sebastian, then she met Riley. He was still bandaged up, his shoulder in a sling.
“I hear you avenged me a wee bit, Viva.”
She adored his accent. “Not really, I saved my own ass.”
Riley blinked.
“You’ll get used to it,” Sam said and called to Killian.
The man turned and Viva thought, Whoa, he’s a big one. He smiled, then leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Welcome to the team, Viva.”
She frowned at Sam. “You can’t possibly want me to join Dragon One.”
“Sure.”
“And you call me crazy?” The last weeks hadn’t clued them in that trouble simply found her?
“We wouldn’t have come out of this if it wasn’t for you,” Max said. “The diamonds, the geology theory, the mafia thing, which was really cool. Language skills.”
“You mean all that useless knowledge and odd jobs are finally coming in handy?”
“An asset around these guys,” a female voice said, and Viva saw a woman walk around the rear of the car.
Viva’s features pulled taught. “Jade?”
Alexa’s eyes flew wide. “Oh, my God, Fiori?” They stared, rattling on like excited teenagers, Alexa showing off her wedding ring and the two hugging again.
Then suddenly Viva twisted to look at Sam. It wasn’t a friendly look. “I thought you said her name was Alexa?”
“It is. Jade was a cover.” Sam explained.
Viva looked back at Alexa. “CIA? How cool is that?”
Sam exchanged a confused look with Killian over their heads. “How do you know each other?”
Alexa cleared her throat. Viva met her gaze, arching a brow. “Your choice,” Alexa said. “They know my past.”
“We met at the Blue Dolphin in Spain.”
Riley frowned. “Why is that familiar?”
“It’s an exotic club.”
Sam’s gaze shot to Viva. She shrugged uneasily. “It was a job.”
“As what?”
“Strippers.”
“Holy shit,” Logan said.
“Pole dancers,” Alexa clarified. “Viva and I had a routine together.” She looked at Killian. “I was on assignment, these particular weapons smugglers liked strippers.”
“Any man likes strippers, honey,” Killian said, bringing her close.
“Yeah, especially two women,” Sebastian said.
Viva shook her head. “I never understood that attraction, except maybe more boobs.”
“You got that right,” Max added, chuckling.
They were all looking at her and Alexa oddly. Great.
“I don’t want to hear about it.” Killian said. “It’s past.”
“Well, I could show you the routine,” Alexa said, and Killian grinned, then kissed her.
Viva cast a glance at Sam, looking worried. But Sam was staring at her, trying to imagine her doing that. “Apparently I’ve got a lot to learn about you.” He smiled and Viva’s fears fled.
“It was a lot of costumes and suggestion. I do the full Monty for only one man,” she said, coming to him.
He pulled her a bit farther away from the group. “Lucky me.”
“No, Sam, lucky me.”
He kissed her wildly, uncaring of who watched, or how deeply he expressed himself, and Viva loved him all the more for it. She had a feeling the Sam she first met wasn’t exactly known for showing his heart to anyone. Ever.
He brought her hand to his mouth, kissed it, then he leaned close to whisper in her ear, “Marry me.”
Her gaze flicked from the ring on her finger to his face. Her mouth worked but nothing came out. He smiled widely. “Speechless, Red?” She just kept staring. “What do you say? Fifty, sixty years of driving me crazy?”
“Oh, yeah.” Tears bloomed in her eyes.
“Don’t cry, it kills me.”
“So, again, it’s all about you?”
He threw his head back and laughed, and knew the rest of his life would never be as entertaining as the day he set eyes on Xaviera Fiori.
His very own redheaded nightmare.
Author’s Note
Writers gather elements for their work from everything surrounding them. While Hit Hard is a product of my imagination, there is some truth in it. I’d like to acknowledge the 2005 Lemelson–MIT Prize Winner, Woody Norris, the real inventor of hypersonic sound.
Mr. Norris is no stranger to seeing the possibilities where no one else had. In 1967, he invented a device that sent ultrasound through the skin and was the precursor to the sonogram. Later, he created a hands-free ear-mounted speaker/ microphone device operating on the principle that sound travels through the bones in a person’s head. While designed at the request of NASA as a replacement for the built-in microphones in astronaut’s helmets, the commercial version is now a popular cell phone headset. Another invention by Norris is Flashback®, the first handheld recording and playback device that eliminated audiotape. It is solid state, no moving parts.
In the true American spirit, Mr. Norris is a self-educated, self-funded, and self-motivated inventor. At the time of this printing, he had 47 U.S. patents on his inventions. Web site: www.woodynorris.com.
Take a peek at “Love Potion #9”
by JoAnne Ross
in the sexy anthology
BAD BOYS SOUTHERN STYLE
available now from Brava!
The Swansea Inn had begun its life as an antebellum mansion belonging to a cotton broker. Three stories tall, created of the local gray Savannah brick that turned a dusky pink when bathed in the red glow of sunset, it overlooked the Polaski Monument in Monterey Square, which Roxi considered the prettiest of the city’s
twenty-four lush green squares.
She’d heard rumors that the inn had, for several decades prior to the War Between the States, been a house of prostitution, where wealthy planters and merchants had kept a bevy of women for their shared pleasure. There was even one bit of local lore that had General Sherman, after deciding not to torch the city, but to give it to President Lincoln as a Christmas present instead, a visit to the house to celebrate having concluded his devastating march across Georgia to the sea.
Like so many stories about the city, the tales were couched in mystery and wrapped in sensuality, and had been told and retold so many times it was impossible to know how much was true, and how much was the product of Savannahians’ vivid imaginations.
She’d never been inside before, partly because she knew she’d never be able to afford the prices, but mostly because it was a private club. A place, yet more rumors persisted, of assignations. Even, she’d heard whispered, the occasional orgy.
She might have a liberal view of sex, but if Sloan Hawthorne had plans along those lines for tonight, he was going to be disappointed.
The moment the black car glided to a stop at the curve, the inn’s glass door opened and a man came down the stone steps.
A sudden, white-hot sexual craving zigzagged through her like a bolt of lightning from a clear blue summer sky, sending every hormone in her body into red alert.
Roxi recognized him immediately. She’d Googled him yesterday after talking with Emma on the Internet, and while on all those websites she’d visited, he’d definitely appeared to be a hunk, up close and personal, he was downright lethal.
His hair was warm chestnut streaked with gold she suspected was a result of time spent beneath the California sun, rather than some trendy Beverly Hills salon. He was conservatively dressed in a crisp white shirt, muted gray striped tie and a dark suit, which looked Italian and probably cost more than her first car.