The Omega Team_Her Last Hope Read online

  Leandra turned off the main light, keeping the small lamp next to the bed on. A shadow moved across the window. She shivered. Sneaking out wouldn’t be that easy. She’d have to time things perfectly. There were only four guards on the property, but they were heavily armed. She sent messages to a couple of her private investigator friends, begging for help on this one. All she needed was to buy a little time.

  She tapped her tablet and opened her document on Ramos. He’d started out as a two-bit hustler, working his way up to running one of the biggest underground casino rings, and now he was running people.

  Another shadow darted across the window opposite the wall. It was impossible to ignore that right down the hall was a stone-cold killer. She reached across the bed, pulling her weapon from her suitcase on the floor, cocking it, resting it next to her, keeping her finger on the butt of the gun.

  The rustling of something outside startled her once again. Her stomach tightened into a fist of knots. Scrolling on her tablet, she found the picture of Skyler Denton. Beautiful eighteen-year-old young woman with sandy brown hair, cut to her shoulders in the front, much shorter in the back. Leandra ran her fingers across the screen, just under Skyler’s ice blue eyes. In the picture she smiled, arms looped around her brother and sister, her parents standing proudly behind them.

  “I’m going to find you,” she whispered just as she noticed a shadow in the bathroom. Grabbing her weapon, she scooted to the side of the bed, raising her arms, and pointing the gun toward the door.

  Paranoid.

  And seeing things.

  No one would climb through the window in the bathroom. At least no one from Ramos’s organization.

  Or would they?

  On tiptoes, she eased across the room, pressing her back against the wall. The slight screech from what could have been a soft-soled shoe echoed from the bathroom. The noise could have also been leaves rustling against the window. She sucked in a quiet breath. It made no sense that one of Ramos’s guys would come at her like this. They’d just barge through the bedroom door.

  She let her breath out as she shimmied against the wall until her shoulder touched the molding of the door. Pivoting on her heels, she lunged through the door, weapon drawn. Her heart pounded so hard against her ribs she worried one would break.

  Nothing.

  She held her weapon steady as she scanned the small room, finding no one and nothing disturbed.

  She shook her head, blinking. When she took on this case, she thought it was a simple missing person. A teenage girl who had run away from home, more than once, hooked on drugs, and probably prostituting herself. Skyler had done all of the above the last time she’d run away. But this time? Leandra believed she’d been kidnapped.

  Skyler had left her parents’ home, ten months sober, and on her way to a college class where she’d been getting straight A’s. Her purse, backpack, and phone had been found in the parking lot of the community college.

  Worse, none of her old friends from her days on the streets had heard from her, much less seen her.

  Leandra turned toward the mirror and gasped as a tall, well-built man dressed in black lunged from the linen closet. She twisted, shifting her gun, but he managed to grab hold of her wrist with a firm grip. His other arm wrapped tightly around her body, hauling her back tight to his chest.

  “Be quiet,” he whispered. His blue eyes holding her gaze in the mirror. His chiseled features sent a shiver down her spine. But it was the way the corner of his lips tipped upward that made her pause. She should think him menacing, but that smile made him look as if he were hitting on her from across a crowded bar.

  With her free arm, she jabbed him in the gut with her elbow. He groaned, but his rock-hard stomach didn’t flinch. As she prepared to nail him again, he yanked her arm down, smashing it against the counter, sending her weapon spinning across the top, knocking over the soap dispenser.

  “Fuck,” she muttered as he covered her mouth with his hand.

  “Shhhhhh.” He smiled at her in the mirror. “We don’t want Ramos knowing I’m here.”

  She narrowed her eyes into tiny slits and dug her heel into his foot.

  Grunting, he pushed her against the sink, bending her slightly at the waist, pinning her. “Stop fighting me,” he whispered. “I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

  Taking in a deep breath, she let her body relax a little into his while two things came to mind: How the fuck did he get in that linen closet with his size, and no way would she stop fighting.

  “I was sent to help you.”

  By who? she wondered, because none of her contacts had gotten back to her and they wouldn’t send someone without warning. Her heart pounded. She told herself it was fear, but it wasn’t, not completely. She laced her fingers around his powerful forearm, feeling his muscles flex against her touch. She tugged.

  “I’ll uncover your mouth if you agree to follow my directions explicitly.”

  She shook her head again. Following someone else’s instructions had never been her strong suit.

  He arched a brow.

  Reaching up, she tried to pry his hand from her mouth. His long, thick fingers twisted, holding her hand as steady as his blue eyes held her in a captivating stare.

  She should be trying to get away.

  But she found herself wondering what it might be like to have this man kiss her lips, a thought she hadn’t had since the first time she’d met her late husband. However, it gave her an idea.

  She wiggled her ass against him in just the right spot, flirting as best she could with her seductive gaze. His eyes widened as the pressure increased against her butt. Then he smiled and pushed harder.

  “You really want to play that game?”

  The sexy man holding her tight pulled out a Smith and Wesson Magnum .500. Impressive weapon to match an impressive man. She swallowed.

  “Are you going to be quiet?” he asked.

  She let out a long breath and rolled her eyes. Not the smartest thing to do in a situation like this, but she’d been around enough bad guys to know this man was a badass, but not a criminal. The way he stood and held his gun gave away his military training and she could spot a military man a mile away. Then again, there were some good military men who turned to the other side.

  But the man in mirror? He held her firmly, but not with too much force. Even in this position, pinned to the counter, his touch was more gentle than hurtful.

  Leandra had good instincts and she trusted her gut. Whoever this man was, he wasn’t there to cause her harm.

  He cracked a smile as he slowly uncovered her mouth.

  “Who the hell are you?” she whispered, trying to break free from his grasp. “And more importantly, who do you work for?” While her gut was almost never wrong, there was still a chance her captor worked for Ramos in some capacity.

  “Who I am is irrelevant. Your father hired me to save you.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “First, I don’t need saving.” She wiggled, rotating her shoulders back and forth. He tightened his hold. “Second, I don’t believe you work for my father because I don’t have one.” At least her alias didn’t. “Tell Ramos this is the dumbest loyalty test ever. He keeps pulling this shit and my guy will run for the hills.” She let her voice go from a faint whisper to a hush toned.

  He covered her mouth again.

  His eyes twitched and narrowed as she smiled behind his hand, letting her tongue touch his palm.

  “Be careful, hon. I’m one of the good guys, but I’m not a saint.” He pressed his lips against her cheek. His touch felt like a moist feather sticking to her skin.

  “I know exactly who you are. You’re Leandra Wakefield, private investigator out of Brooklyn. Daughter of multi-millionaire Chester Wakefield. Not Leandra Waters and whatever crazy bio you created for yourself.” He continued to stare at her in the mirror. His gun pressed against her shoulder, his large arm wrapped tightly around her middle. His gaze never wavered, but his eyes glimmered, waking
up the erogenous zones that had been asleep since her husband died.

  Who got turned on by being held at gunpoint?

  Maybe she did have a death wish.

  She’d carefully crafted her aliases for jobs like this one, but unfortunately, she hadn’t had much time to plan, and her assistant hadn’t spent hours looking for holes in it.

  Shaking her head, she managed to free her mouth from his grasp once again. “Tell Ramos that I’ve scheduled a meet for tomorrow.” She squirmed, contemplating rearing her leg up between his and landing her heel right where it counts.

  He must have read her mind as he cocked his head and repositioned himself. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” He tapped the butt of his gun against the back of her head.

  Her heart skipped a beat.

  “Your father hired me to bring you back to him safe and sound and that is what I intend to do. In eleven minutes, we have to be out that window and hightailing it to the fence at the west side and down to the waterfront.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.” She twisted herself, hard and quick. Leaning forward, she raised her foot, going right for the groin.

  She missed.

  He had the nerve to smile.

  “Asshole,” she muttered.

  Grabbing his forearm, she pushed her ass against him, twisting his body, flinging herself backward. They hit the wall with loud smack. Raising her arm, she hurled her elbow into his gut. This time he hunched over and she went for the gun.

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” He shoved her forward, snagging both of her arms, yanking them behind her back. He pressed her body over the counter, this time holding her chest down. Her shoulders burned as he pulled harder on her wrists.

  “This kind of noise is going to bring a shit storm we don’t need.”

  Lifting her face from the counter, she looked at him once again in the mirror. The jerk still had a stupid smile plastered across his face.

  She grinned back, though she hadn’t meant to.

  Nor did she welcome being turned on.

  “Keep this up and I will render you unconscious,” he said.

  “Let me go.” She drew her lips in a tight line, forcing her mind to remember this man didn’t want to woo her into bed.

  “Not on your life, hon.” He jerked her body upward and toward the window.

  “I’m not your hon and I’m not going anywhere with you.” This time she lifted both feet off the floor, pressing her feet against the sink and giving them both a good shove. He stumbled backward, twisting his body away from the wall.

  She kicked her legs, trying to lock her feet under the towel rack, but missed about the same time he regained his balance.

  “Sorry, hon, I didn’t want to have to do this, but you’ve left me no choice.”

  The world went into slow motion as he lowered his weapon toward her head. A loud crack echoed in her ears, followed by intense ringing. Black squiggly lines that looked like little maggots filled her vision. More and more of them covered her sight until the world went black…

  Chapter 2

  ALL NICK COULD THINK about was how disappointed his mother would be that he’d just assaulted a lady. Sure, a badass lady, but a lady nonetheless.

  And the widow of a Marine.

  He pressed the bag of frozen vegetable bag against the already growing lump on the back of her head, scowling. Her body sprawled on the sofa in a small house not far from Ramos’s mansion. The house was owned by a young couple who raced cars and were currently out of town for the next month at various race tracks. The Omega Team had secured the house for Nick’s use for three weeks. Thus far, he’d spent three days there, following Ramos, studying the layout of the area, and working out an exit strategy for Leandra.

  Now that he had her, he wasn’t hell bent on returning her to daddy dearest. No. He wanted to find out what this chick was up to and why she was hanging around a scumbag like Ramos.

  Nick sat on the coffee table in front of the sofa, keeping the cold compress on her head, staring at her angelic face. He’d long gotten over the feeling like he was betraying his wife every time he had sex with a woman. It was just sex. He didn’t mean that to sound crass, but relationships were out of the question.

  He just wasn’t capable.

  Joanne had been the love of his life. The only woman for him, and he’d lost her and their child to a boating accident that could have been avoided had only the other driver been paying attention. The hardest part of that day had been holding his wife as she took her last breath, saying the words, “I love you”, and smiling when she did so.

  He blinked. He needed to remind himself he’d never find that kind of love again, nor did he want the pain that went with it. His mother always told him he’d been one of the lucky ones, having found the kind of connection he’d had with Joanne. When she’d been alive, he had known it to be true. He’d been the luckiest man in the world. But now that she was gone?

  He clutched his chest.

  Love sucked and no way would he ever allow himself to feel so deeply for another woman again, even if she made his heart beat a little faster and made his mind wander to places he’d shut down years ago.

  Leandra groaned as she shifted on the sofa, reaching for the back of her head. He continued to press the cold bag, even when she tried to bat him away.

  Then her eyelids fluttered. A sweet, soft moan escaped her lips as she arched her back. As soon as he saw the dark chocolate color of her eyes she bolted to an upright position.

  “What the fuck!?” she yelled. “Who the hell are you? You’re ruining everything…” She winced, pushing his hand away and flinging the cold bag of vegetables across the room. “I need to get back before they know I’m missing,” she said, her voice fading off as she rubbed the back her head.

  “What are you doing with the likes of Ramos? Are you working for him?” Nick didn’t believe she’d crossed the line, but he needed a distraction from the feelings she stirred inside him.

  Physically, she was perfect for him with her soft skin and round curves, not to mention her height. His six-foot-one inch frame probably only had two inches on her and that was a turn on all by itself. When he’d lifted her over his shoulder, the excitement of feeling her body against his consumed him. He told himself it had been too long without physical contact with a woman.

  The rest of his thoughts, he couldn’t explain and didn’t want to explore.

  Besides, she was a widow of only two years. He was well past ten and he still hadn’t been able to consider anything but sex, and even that took much contemplation on his part.

  “Yes and no.” She maneuvered herself to a sitting position. “Now tell me who you are, besides military.”

  “What makes you think I’m military?”

  “My husband’s a marine.”

  He frowned. He couldn’t remember how long it had taken him to refer to his wife in the past tense.

  “Was a marine,” she whispered.

  He nodded, staring into her eyes, trying to suck in all her pain. She deserved the ability to move on with her life and live it to the fullest.

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” Standard response, but so was thank you for your service. However, he appreciated the words every time someone said them. “The name’s Nick. I work for The Omega Team—”

  “The what team?” She rubbed the back of her head.

  He winced as her face scrunched in pain. Hitting her hadn’t been the highlight of the evening.

  “A group of ex-military men and women hired for special jobs. This op is all about bringing you home to your father.”

  “I told you, I don’t have a father,” she said as her gaze darted around the room. Her wide-eyed expression searched for a way out.

  “Cut the bull-shit, Leandra.” He inched closer and cracked a slight smile when she didn’t lean away. As a matter-of-fact, she puffed out her chest, holding her ground.

  Feisty and strong.

  And still in love with her
dead husband.

  Mentally, he laughed at his thought. He’d never stop loving Joanne.

  “I know everything there is to know about you.”

  Her eyes widened and then narrowed into tiny little slits. “I doubt that.”

  “Your father gave me quite a lot of information. But I was also in your apartment a few days ago. I know you have a small table in the entryway where you have a seashell dish, which I assume you dump your keys in. Your kitchen isn’t much, but it’s obvious you like to cook by the expensive pots and pans you own. Not to mention you have a ton of cookbooks. I also know you only seem to have thong underwear. Your bra size is a 38D, your jeans are a size 12, and—”

  “You’re a fucking pervert.” She stood, kicking the coffee table as she shoved it aside, standing over him with her hands on those goddamned voluptuous hips.

  Seriously, the moment he had five minutes free, he’d have to find himself a one night stand.

  Slowly, he stood, exerting his powerful body over hers, only she wasn’t someone most people would want to mess with. He rubbed his side where she’d nailed him twice, knowing a bruise had formed. “I’m no such thing, though I will admit to having a veracious appetite for sex, but searching your apartment was all part of doing my job.”

  “Checking out my panties isn’t doing your job.”

  He smiled. “You just confirmed that you are indeed, Leandra Wakefield.”

  “Fine. You got me.” She shifted her weight, her breasts bouncing slightly. “Now you’re going to say good-bye.”

  “Nope.” He waved to the sofa and thankfully she sat down. “I’m Nick Sarich.” He shoved out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Not,” she muttered, letting his hand hang in the air. “So, my father hired you because I didn’t call him for a couple of weeks.”

  “No. He hired me because you never showed up for a blind date.”