Page 100 of Her Mercenary

I was living minute to minute, a loose cannon operating on emotions, not facts and figures. There was no cool, calm head anymore, just a savage need to protect what was mine.

It went against everything I’d been trained.

It was, without question, the most dangerous place I’d ever been. This is when mistakes happen, missions derail, lives are lost.

And the worst part? I didn’t even realize it.

I slipped behind a tree as two taillights disappeared down the dirt road. A black four-door Nissan, best I could tell.

The guards were headed to the port. Soon, a trailer full of slaves would follow.

I needed to hurry.

Once the car was out of sight, I refocused on the lodge and picked up my pace, slipping from tree to tree, careful to stay in the shadows.

I’d parked the pickup truck in a thicket of ferns a half mile back to avoid being seen. It would be a difficult trek for Sam once I rescued her, but it was the safest option.

She could do it. She was strong.

Rain poured off my nose, my fingertips. My black suit was saturated, the wound on my wrist stinging with each rub of the fabric.

She was worth it, though. Every fucking second of that pain. And now I would never forget her. She was etched forever into my skin.

Sam.

Feeling my heart beat faster, I pushed into a jog, something in my gut triggering a sense of panic that I didn’t like.

Minutes later, I approached the lodge.

The front door opened and two guards in army fatigues stepped outside, huddling under the small overhang to light a cigarette. I took a quick inventory of the vehicles. Most I recognized, but one SUV was unfamiliar.

Had Conor Cussane finally arrived? Had my brother arrived?

The thought nearly sent me lunging out of the shadows, guns blazing, mowing down everything in my path until I reached him.

Sam.

Sam first.

Sam, Sam, Sam.

Adrenaline surged through my veins as I skirted the edge of the lodge, careful to avoid the line of sight of the guards smoking their cigarettes.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, less angry now. The storm was moving away. Taking my chances, I ducked down and darted across the small yard that led to a side door that I knew was close to the basement.

Although I didn’t have a plan if I got caught, I didn’t care. I’d defend myself, lethally if necessary, or improvise as needed. Getting Sam into my arms was my only goal.

I pushed open the side door and stepped inside, ready for what might come. The hallway was empty. A light shone from the kitchen, where overlapping chatter echoed and shadows moved along the walls.

I could feel the anxiety in the house. Yes, they were loading up and heading out. And they were scared.

My heart pounded as I slipped down the hallway and through the basement doors. The space was rank with fear. As I jogged across the basement, slaves whispered and moaned, a few sobbing in my wake. They knew something was coming.

I ignored them, focused on the last cage in the corner. But the cage was empty.

My stomach dropped.

I spun around, meeting two huge blue eyes staring back at me.

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