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Against the Wall
Lyn Stone
One minute she was tending an injured patient. The next, her familiar world had vanished and Dr. Solange Micheaux was on the run with Special Agent Jack Mercier, his reluctant partner in a deadly race against time. But his powerful sensuality posed a far graver threat.She was in the wrong place at the wrong time–Jack had no choice but to take her with him. Now Solange was critical to the success of his mission. All he had to do was keep her safe. But as the hours ticked down, the stakes were rising. For each passion-filled moment they shared could be their last….
“This mission could be deadly if you don’t know what you’re doing, Solange. Tell me now if you aren’t sure, and I’ll get you out of here.”
Jack’s hand on her arm gripped with increased intensity. Solange realized he was afraid for her. Really afraid, to the point where he might abandon the mission if she seemed reluctant.
“I know what to do,” she assured him, putting more conviction into her answer than she truly felt.
In a surprising move, he put his arms around her and held her close. “I wish to God I had left you where you were. You’re not cut out for this.”
She pushed against his chest until she could look him straight in the eye. “Don’t underestimate me, Mercier.”
He smiled down at her, still holding her in his arms. “My mistake.” Then he lowered his head and kissed her.
Solange felt it to her soul.
Dear Reader,
Once again, Silhouette Intimate Moments has a month’s worth of fabulous reading for you. Start by picking up Wanted, the second in Ruth Langan’s suspenseful DEVIL’S COVE miniseries. This small town is full of secrets, and this top-selling author knows how to keep readers turning the pages.
We have more terrific miniseries. Kathleen Creighton continues STARRS OF THE WEST with An Order of Protection, featuring a protective hero every reader will want to have on her side. In Joint Forces, Catherine Mann continues WINGMEN WARRIORS with Tag’s long-awaited story. Seems Tag and his wife are also awaiting something: the unexpected arrival of another child. Carla Cassidy takes us back to CHEROKEE CORNERS in Manhunt. There’s a serial killer on the loose, and only the heroine’s visions can help catch him—but will she be in time to save the hero? Against the Wall is the next SPECIAL OPS title from Lyn Stone, a welcome addition to the line when she’s not also writing for Harlequin Historicals. Finally, you knew her as Anne Avery, also in Harlequin Historicals, but now she’s Anne Woodard, and in Dead Aim she proves she knows just what contemporary readers want.
Enjoy them all—and come back next month, when Silhouette Intimate Moments brings you even more of the best and most exciting romance reading around.
Yours,
Leslie J. Wainger
Executive Editor
Against the Wall
Lyn Stone
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
LYN STONE
loves creating pictures with words. Paints, too. Her love affair with writing and art began in the third grade, when she won a school-wide prize for her colorful poster for Book Week. She spent the prize money on books, one of which was Little Women.
She rewrote the ending so that Jo marries her childhood sweetheart. That’s because Lyn had a childhood sweetheart herself and wanted to marry him when she grew up. She did. And now she is living her “happily ever after” in north Alabama with the same guy. She and Allen have traveled the world, have two children, four grandchildren and experienced some wild adventures along the way.
Whether writing romantic historicals or contemporary fiction, Lyn insists on including elements of humor, mystery and danger. Perhaps because that other book she purchased all those years ago was a Nancy Drew.
This book is dedicated to
retired Special Agent Frank Hudson, Dorothy and Jim.
We miss you guys!
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Prologue
“I don’t see how we’re gonna be much help to Jack fifteen clicks away,” Joe Corda said. He immediately lowered his voice when he heard the echo bounce off the old masonry walls. “That’s lethal stuff he’ll be dealing with. Not like bullets. One hit and he’s dead. If he were going in alone, I wouldn’t worry so much, but he’ll have that doctor along. And the kid.”
“He’ll need tickets and they’re it. I’d have gotten us closer, but we’d stick out like M&Ms on a sushi plate anywhere else around here,” Holly Amberson argued. “As it is, the locals won’t even blink at us. They’re used to weirdos renting this place. Artistes!” she hissed with a flourish of her fingers.
He looked around as he put down two of the suitcases. “This dump looks like something out of a really bad French novel.”
“Oh, yeah, like you’ve read so many of those,” she muttered. “But I will admit a Bela Lugosi butler wouldn’t be out of place.”
He leveled her with a look. “We are the help, remember?”
“Not you, slick.” She smirked. “You are the gigolo. Man, I do hate that shirt. Which pimp’s closet did you raid anyway?”
Just outside, Martine Duquesne Corda was busy issuing imperious instructions to her bodyguard, Eric Vinland, and chauffeur, Will Griffin. Holly laughed. “Martine’s really getting into her role. You let her boss you around like that?”
“Sure.” Joe shrugged, hands on his hips, preoccupied with taking in the rustic, old-world charm of the faded mansion in France’s Lorraine region. “She does have an image to maintain. How do you like her disguise? She’ll be just that beautiful when she does reach sixty, I bet.”
In an abrupt change of topic, Holly commented, “Where the heck are the outlets in this barn? I need a place to hook up.” She hefted the case containing assorted gadgets and her laptop and set it on a scarred marble-topped table near the door.
They both moved aside as the others entered. She waited until Will had closed the door. “All the rooms been swept?”
“Clean,” Eric assured her. “We’re good to go.” He turned to Martine, clicked his heels and bowed, looking more like a muscle-bound kid on spring break than the bodyguard he was supposed to be. “Our reclusive Madame D’Amato may proceed with her work uninhibited.” He peered over his wire-rimmed glasses and winked at Joe. “As well as her play, of course.” Caught off guard, Martine laughed and blushed.
Holly pointed to the mound of luggage now piled near their feet. “You guys cut the bull and set up the global positioning system. Let’s check Jack’s location. We need to know exactly when to expect him.”
Will, quintessential agent, the quiet man, finally spoke. “His ETA’s eleven-thirty, give or take five. He’ll be here.”
“Verify.” Holly was running this end of the mission. Joe reached for the case with the GPS instruments. His duties consisted of whatever Holly ordered him to do. And also protecting his wife, not an official member of the Sextant team but a contract language specialist who was central to their cover. Holly, Will, Eric and he were masquerading as her entourage. Clay Senate was maintaining Stateside control while the boss, Mercier, had assumed the lead.
The Sextant team consisted of agents recruited from various government organizations expressly for the purpose of preventing terrorist activities around the globe. This suspected bio-terror threat was the first of its kind for Sextant.
Identify, Infiltrate, Analyze and Eliminate. That first part, they had all had a hand in. The second and most difficult order of business was about to go down within the next few hours if all went as planned. The primary agent was about to insert.
Joe looked up at the peeling paint on the fancy plaster ceiling and—seriously lapsed Catholic that he was—uttered a devout prayer that they would all survive. He was known for his hunches, and he had a really bad feeling about this.
Chapter 1
Jack Mercier entered the hospital wing of Baumettes Prison with the barrel of a submachine gun resting at the base of his spine. While he loved humanity—in fact, had devoted his life to the protection of it—he had decided since coming to this place a week ago that he was not that crazy about people. Especially Claude Bujold, his least favorite guard.
Maybe he was rationalizing the fact that he wanted to kill the man, but he didn’t think so. Claude considered beatings a form of entertainment, the more helpless the victim, the greater the rush. Misuse of power really pushed Jack’s buttons.
Jack was supposed to be awaiting arraignment, accused of conspiring to ship illegal weapons into France. Bogus charges, of course, faked to get him into this place.
He had escaped most of the vicious harassment by bribing Claude. The promise of money from Jack’s attorney had gotten Jack the promise of medical attention today.
Jack waited until they entered the small ward, empty now except for one patient and the doctor attending him at the far end of the room. Today was the day.
The white-clad doctor who was bending over the patient stood and turned. Jack stopped in his tracks. Wrong doctor. Most definitely, wrong doctor.
Should he postpone? Too late. With everything else in place, it was now or never.
Claude prodded him down the aisle between the rows of beds. “Hey, Doc, this piece of filth has been complaining of chest pain. Would you—”
Jack whirled, grasped both of Claude’s wrists and pinched the nerves that controlled his fingers. He rammed the top of his head beneath Claude’s chin and heard a satisfying crack.
The machine gun fell, hitting the floor a split second after Jack’s knee connected with Claude’s groin.
The guard crumpled with a cry. Jack delivered a blow to the side of the head that would keep Claude unconscious for a while. Unfortunately, the bastard had to be left alive.
The doctor rushed him but he heard that coming. He waited, caught her upraised arm and easily removed the syringe, her impromptu weapon.
“Where is Dr. Micheaux?” he demanded.
She sputtered as she struggled to break free. Her small fists bounced off him, inflicting no pain. She was not very strong, he noted.
What the hell was this delicate little flower doing in a prison hospital? And what had happened to the doctor he had expected to find in here?
Now he would either have to incapacitate her like the guard, or take her along. Either way, she might be blamed for aiding the escape. Besides, he had to have a doctor along. She’d just have to do.
“Be still or I’ll have to kill you,” he snapped.
All motion ceased. Her wide blue gaze, full of fear and anger, settled on his. Every muscle in her body was alert and tensed for further action if he presented her a chance. Bold little thing.
“I admire bravery but not stupidity. Nod if you comprehend.” He spoke to her in French, assuming that she was.
Her chin remained raised, her glare defiant. But Jack could see she understood. She was pretty, he noticed. Blond, sky-blue eyes, skin untouched by the sun. This one didn’t spend her off days on the Riviera, that was for sure. Too busy saving lives, he guessed. He’d bet she worked here for nothing in her spare time. Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Prepare your patient to leave the prison. Is he ambulatory?”
“No,” she said emphatically. “You are not taking him anywhere.”
Jack inclined his head toward the exit that led to the alley where a truck was waiting. “We are all leaving through that door in less than five minutes.” He glared at her. He had no time for her spitfire attitude, so he added, “Dead or alive. Your choice, lady.”
For a long moment she studied his eyes, then looked back at the bed where her patient lay sleeping. “You won’t hurt him?”
“No. Or you, either. Not if you behave and do exactly as I tell you.”
She exhaled the pent-up breath she was holding and nodded once, no doubt cursing the abominable lack of security in French prisons. This one was even more short-handed than usual today thanks to Will Griffin.
Jack released her and reached down to pick up Claude’s weapon. “Get to it, then, while I take care of the garbage. Do as I say and neither of you will be harmed. My word.”
He ignored her scoff. In seconds he had bound the unconscious Claude’s hands and feet and gagged him with a roll of gauze.
Jack regretted having to take the doctor along, but he really had no choice. Since the boy was drugged, someone would have to verify how he’d been rescued. Besides that, he obviously needed medical attention, and the kid’s father would hardly appreciate Jack’s getting the boy out of prison if the little fellow died in the process.
“You have the boy ready?” Jack demanded as he approached the sickbed where the prisoner lay.
“Yes. Why are you doing this?” she demanded.
Jack ignored the question. “Take as much of his medication as you have with you. Hand me your bag.”
“I am not coming,” she informed him.
“Poor choice.” He started raising the machine gun. She gasped.
“Change your mind?” Jack asked. Again she nodded, her eyes clenched in resignation.
“Then help him up. He’s small enough you should be able to manage. Is he really that hurt or just sedated?”
“Of course he is hurt. His injuries are numerous and he is on morphine.”
