Trial by Fire Page 13

  Sloan huffed. “You’re delusional.”

  “You love your children. You worship your wife. You protect your friends and your family with your life. You take care of your workers better than most employers. Heartless bastards don’t do a fraction of that. And you can’t kill unless forced.”

  Sloan simply stared down at his wife, watching her like a hawk.

  Gordon’s voice was soft as he continued. “You’re a good man who had a bad life. You’ve learned to adapt, to survive. It doesn’t change who you are. The evil person you make yourself out to be could never have attracted a woman like Abigail and kept her.”

  Sloan closed his eyes for several long moments. Then, he opened them again and stood straight. He took a deep breath as Abbey raced to the second door. She waited before grasping the knob and yanking it open. “She made it to the second room.” His voice broke.

  “Yes, she did. She did remarkable with the first one.”

  “Aye.” Sloan’s words barely made a sound. “That’s my girl.” He turned toward the windows that overlooked the second room and learned against the gutted control panel.

  Gordon watched him. Sloan was truly the perfect soldier. He would do whatever he was commanded, including kill the woman he loved. Gordon could see the war waging within him. It was in his eyes, in the lines of his face. But this was the way it had to be.

  Gordon shook his head as he crossed the room to stand beside Sloan. The sooner this was over, the better.

  »»•««

  Abbey carefully stepped into the second room. The first had been easier than she thought. She was pretty sure it was one of the same guys she fought before. She half-smiled when she found two well-built Thai men waiting for her. Is this the Gauntlet? Each room has one more man for me to fight? Can I take on seven men?

  Before Abbey could ponder any more, the first of the two thugs attacked. She slipped past him and landed a kick to his head. Then she went after the other. She took a few blows. Her body started to ache. She didn’t know how long it took, but finally she had choked out the last man.

  She took a second to get her bearings before she threw open the third door.

  When she found only one assailant in the room, she breathed a sigh of relief. Then her breath hitched in her throat as she saw the blade in his hand. Knives? I was never taught to defend myself against weapons!

  The man charged her, brandishing the blade. She stepped out of the way, backpedaling in panic. His steps were much faster and quickly swallowed up the space between them.

  Slicing through the air, he nicked Abbey’s arm. She winced in pain as she scuttled away again. Instinctively, she fired a body kick to his side. He grimaced as he wrapped his arms protectively around the area. Abbey grabbed the hand with the knife and wrenched it behind him with all her strength. The thug yelped in pain as he dropped the weapon. Abbey used her weight to slam him into the wall. He crumpled, unconscious, to the floor.

  Abbey exhaled slowly as she examined her wound. Three down, four to go.

  She ripped the open the fourth door.

  Two men stood side by side, one holding a two-by-four and another a metal pipe. Abbey groaned. The one with the piece of wood rushed at her. Abbey ducked out of the way, stepping into the swing of the pipe. She dropped to her knees as pain radiated through her. She heard them chuckle as they prepared to strike again.

  Abbey scooted across the floor and struggled to her feet. She watched them approach her, brandishing their weapons. She slowly backed away. Her body jolted suddenly in pain from an invisible electric shock.

  Her attackers stopped suddenly. Whatever had zapped her protected the next door. What the—? Oh right. Sloan Enterprises. I’m married to a billionaire. Lord knows what kind of toys he has.

  Abbey stumbled a couple of steps forward as she studied the two thugs. She had a split second to execute her plan. Standing her ground, she waited for them to charge her again.

  She sidestepped the first, leaving her foot out as she did. As he collided with it, he stumbled into the electric field. The shock brought him to his knees. Abbey scooped up the plank he had discarded and swung, catching the second man on the chin. When the first one staggered to his feet, she knocked him out, too.

  Abbey’s eyes darted around the door, finding a control panel embedded in the wall next to it. How was she supposed to get past the field to get through it? She slowly scanned the room, a smile spreading across her face as she found her weapon of choice. A sniper rifle was tucked in the corner, loaded for her.

  She picked it up, nestled it against her shoulder, and fired at the panel. It sparked and then went dead. Abbey slipped a hand past the field, wincing as she waited for the shock. There was none.

  She slung the rifle strap over her shoulder and then flung the door open to step inside the fifth room.

  The appearance of the attacker there caught Abbey off guard. The other rooms had been occupied by Thai men just about her size. This one was much taller and dressed in black. His face was covered by a sheer black mask. Her heart seized in her chest. Oh, crap.

  The man approached her slowly, calculating, stalking her like prey. Abbey felt the weight of the rifle. But she couldn’t shoot him, not unless he was really about to kill her.

  Then a smile spread across her lips as she let the strap slip off her shoulder. When the man lunged, she grabbed the barrel of the rifle and swung. The butt cracked her assailant across the temple, dropping him to the floor.

  She laughed as she opened the door of the sixth room.

  Before she could slip inside, a large hand grabbed her shoulder. Another ripped the rifle from her hand and tossed it back into the fifth room and then slammed the door shut.

  Abbey struggled against the man’s grip. Like the guy in the previous room, he was dressed entirely in black with a black mask. This one, though, was broader built than the other, and pure muscle. Abbey’s breath caught in her throat. I can’t beat him.

  He gripped her neck and lifted her off her feet. She struggled to breathe. She kicked frantically but didn’t connect. He held her at length and chuckled. Abbey froze. She knew that laugh, but from where?

  Abbey felt her head swim as she fought for air. It wouldn’t be long before she was dead. She kicked her feet more violently, and this time connected with his gut. He dropped her as he doubled over.

  She scrambled from him but didn’t get far. She let her fists fly, making as many land as she could. His hand swiped across her cheek, flinging her back on the ground.

  Once there, Abbey kicked his kneecap as hard she could, her eyes growing wide in shock as he collapsed. She didn’t think. She jumped on his back and locked her arms around his neck.

  The man stood and rammed Abbey against the wall. She gasped as he did it again and winced as she held on for dear life. His breath came out in ragged puffs. The next blow against the wall was weaker. He fell to his knees. Then he slumped to the floor.

  Abbey’s legs shook as she stood. She looked at the door. The seventh door. She had made it through six rooms. One room was left. One more enemy then jump out the dock door. Simple.

  A voice crackled over the speaker again. “Abigail, enough. You’re done,” Gordon demanded.

  “Is Sloan safe now? Can you say he’ll be all right?”

  There was a long pause. “No.”

  “Then, I’m so sorry, Dad. I need to finish this.”

  “Abigail, you’ll die. I’m proud of you for getting this far. But if you go into that next room, he’ll kill you. I promise you.”

  “Thank you for being proud of me, Dad. But Sloan’s life is more important than mine. I’m so sorry.”

  She pulled the seventh door open and stepped inside.

  Chapter Ten

  For a brief moment, Abbey searched the dark room. She recognized it instantly. It was the large room she had trained in, except now the windows were blacked out and the dock door closed. The blinding flash of a gun lit the room briefly. The sound of the shot startled h
er, setting her heart off like a stampede. She fell to her knees to avoid the bullet. She felt it brush her ear as she hit the floor.

  She glanced up to see a large, dark, looming figure taking cover. Abbey pressed herself against the wall as she peeked around the corner. She saw her assailant’s shadow run along the far wall. The man has a gun. A gun! I can’t keep up with that. She took a breath as she started to devise a plan. Getting him to drop the firearm was number one on her to-do list. The rest she could make up as she went along.

  She glanced around her, looking for anything she could use as a weapon. A smile bloomed on her face as she saw the metal rod about two feet long tucked against a piece of weight equipment. There wasn’t much cover between where she was hidden and the pole. She took another deep breath and ran for it, keeping low.

  A couple of more shots rang around Abbey as she sprinted across the room. The man was right behind her. She scooped up the rod, spun, and swung, striking him on the forearm. The gun scuttled across the floor. Abbey reared to swing again.

  The attacker grabbed her arm before she could release, twisting until she dropped the bar. His other hand gripped her throat. He slowly, methodically, lifted her off her feet.

  Abbey gasped for air. What little she could get bore a scent that turned her insides to jelly and sent her core to a boil. Her thoughts soared to her bed in Minneapolis, her naked body snuggled close to that of her husband. Sloan’s aftershave. This guy wears the same thing.

  The burning in her lungs brought Abbey back to reality. She struggled, feeling herself slip from his grasp. He reared his arm back and tossed her away like a rag doll. Instead of hitting the floor, she crashed into a pile of pallets. Abbey grimaced as her shirt and back were torn apart by splintered wood and stray nails. The shredded fabric quickly became damp with blood.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Abbey saw the gun lying on the floor and the rod not far from her hand. By the scuffle of steps near her, she knew the man did too. She leaped for the pole and then tossed it behind her. She hoped for it to hit him anywhere. It didn’t. She heard it clatter away from them.

  Abbey glanced up to find her attacker looming above her. Rearing back, she kicked, striking him in the gut. She slowly rose and followed with a kick to the chin. He staggered from the blow. Abbey tackled him, dropping him on the ground. She scrambled across the floor, her heart thundering as her fingers wrapped around the pistol.

  Slowly rising to her feet, she pointed. “You bastard,” she said, seething as she cocked the hammer. Her finger caressed the trigger as she pulled it.

  Suddenly, an arm clenched around her waist and ripped her off the floor. The bullet ricocheted across the warehouse walls, pinging against the brick. Abbey gripped both her hands around the arm that held her in a vice grip, struggling to get free. “Let me go!”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Abbey froze at the voice. “Robert?” She slowly looked behind her. Robert’s mask was long gone, and he was glaring at her. Behind him stood Bartholomew, a welt forming on the side of his face.

  Abbey started squirming again. “Let me go! You stopped me from killing him!”

  “He’s the last person you want to kill.”

  “He nearly shot me! Let me—”

  Abbey watched as the attacker stood and grasped his mask, slowly removing it from his face. He looked up at her, his ice-blue eyes meeting hers.

  “Sloan,” she whispered.

  Abbey’s knees buckled as Robert set her on the ground. He braced her to keep from falling. Sloan was the seventh attacker. She touched the slight burn on her ear left by the first bullet. He had almost shot her. The man she loved with her life had nearly ended hers.

  They all turned at the sound of feet on the stairs. Gordon stormed toward them. “Bartholomew, take Abbey to her room and treat her wounds. The rest of you get to debriefing.”

  Abbey shook her head, stunned. Sloan…here…not in Hong Kong, but here…with a gun…shooting at me… “I didn’t finish. I never made it to the dock door.”

  “You want to make it to the dock door? Fine.” Robert tossed her over his shoulder and stomped toward the door.

  “Robert, put her down!” Sloan ordered.

  “Enough, both of you!” Gordon shouted. “We need to get out of here before the local law enforcement shows up. Half of those hired thugs have gone. Bartholomew, get Abbey treated. Sloan and Robert, upstairs.”

  Robert placed Abbey back on her feet. She couldn’t take her eyes off Sloan. He wasn’t taking his off her, either.

  She startled when Bartholomew touched her shoulder. “Come on, Abs. Let’s stop this bleeding.”

  Abbey leaned on Bartholomew as he led her into her room. She watched as Robert and Sloan ascended the staircase and disappeared into the supervisor’s room. He helped her down onto her cot and then rushed out, leaving her alone.

  Abbey’s mind swirled out of control. Sloan had left her at the airport in Belfast. He just tried to kill her. She would have killed him had Robert not been there. A split second later and he would have been dead, a bullet lodged in his skull. How could he love her and try to kill her? And would he forgive her for trying to kill him?

  Abbey’s head snapped up as Bartholomew stepped back into the room, a white, plastic container and a pair of tweezers in his hand. He unscrewed the lid and sat beside her. Gently lifting the back of her shirt, he cringed. “You took a beating from the pallets. You have splinters still here. A couple are pretty big. It’s going to hurt for me to remove them.”

  “It can’t hurt worse than it does now,” Abbey returned.

  “Got it.” Bartholomew worked quickly to get the stray pieces from Abbey’s skin.

  She winced every time the tweezers hit her open flesh. Maybe it can hurt worse. Abbey glanced at Bartholomew. “I’m sorry for hitting you.”

  He chuckled. “No worries, just a bruise. The only thing truly wounded is my pride. Gordon says I was the quickest eliminated.” He winked at her and then returned to the shrapnel in her back.

  Once Bartholomew finished, he dipped a couple of fingers into the container and scooped out some salve. He smoothed it onto her back carefully. “Do you have a clean shirt?”

  “No,” Abbey answered.

  “How about a cleaner shirt than what you have on now?”

  “In my bag.”

  “You’re going to want to change into it. Do you want me to help?”

  Abbey smiled at him. “I can manage. Thank you, though.”

  “All right. I better get to debriefing. Change, get your stuff, and meet us out here. Hurry.”

  “Will do. Thanks, Bartholomew.”

  “Happy to help.” He rushed from the room, closing the door behind him. Abbey slowly stood and dug another shirt from her bag. She didn’t need to smell it. The salty sweat odor had already hit her nose. She slowly peeled the bloody shirt from her body and tugged the other one on. Then she tossed all her belongings into her bag and stepped out into the warehouse to find Gordon, Liam, Sloan, Robert, and Bartholomew waiting for her.

  Gordon motioned her to join them. “Come, Abigail. We need to go.”

  She jogged to the group and followed them out of the warehouse to the waiting SUV. She took one last glance at the building. The Gauntlet. She had survived it. The sounds of sirens echoed in the air. The vehicle’s tires spun in the dirt for a moment before speeding away.

  Abbey groaned as the SUV drove between the airport hangars. Her eyes fell on the mammoth aircraft waiting for her. “Another cargo plane?” She glanced around at the men riding with her. The looks on their faces said they echoed her feelings.

  Her eyes caught those of her husband’s. He was staring at her. Even when she pulled her gaze away, she could feel his locked on her.

  They silently found their places on the aircraft. Abbey’s body ached from fighting. The wounds on her back throbbed. Her mind was scrambled, thinking of Sloan and what had transpired in the Gauntlet. When they were in mid-flight, she blurted out
, “I need sleep.”

  Gordon startled at her voice breaking the silence. Then he smiled. “Bartholomew, find her a place to lie down on the cargo. Check her wounds while you’re back there.”

  Sloan leaped to his feet. “I’ll do it.”

  Gordon stared at him evenly. “I instructed Bartholomew to take care of it. Sit.”

  Sloan growled as he slumped back into his seat. Bartholomew stood with Abbey and gently led her to the cargo hold, finding her a wooden crate on which to lie down. He disappeared for a few moments while Abbey settled on the box. Returning with a couple of blankets, he set them beside her and then instructed her to lift the back of her shirt.

  “They’re scabbing nicely. There weren’t too many deep cuts. It’ll be painful for a while. Keep applying the salve to head off infection,” he assessed.

  Abbey nodded. “Where are we going?”

  “Paris. Just for the night. Then, we head home tomorrow.”

  Abbey paused for a moment and then asked, “Did I pass the Gauntlet?”

  Bartholomew grinned. “With flying colors. Now, get some sleep.”

  Abbey watched him weave around the cargo back to the other men. Then she lay down on the crate. It wasn’t comfortable, but that didn’t matter. She was asleep moments later.

  A firm hand shaking Abbey brought her out of her deep slumber. Robert stood over her. “We’re here. Let’s go.”

  Abbey sat up gingerly and hopped down from the crate. She followed him off the plane to the waiting passenger van. Sloan’s eyes were glued to her the moment he saw her. What was he thinking? Was he angry for what she’d done? She slipped onto the seat next to Robert as Liam took the driver’s side.

  They weaved through the Paris streets until they reached a modest hotel downtown. Its appearance was very Old World. Abbey frowned. Normally, they stayed in the finest hotels and rode in the latest luxury cars. The core of Sloan’s organization was here, yet they hadn’t indulged in one luxury.

  Robert must have seen the quizzical look on her face. “Most of the time we hide in plain sight. But sometimes, it’s best if we just disappear.”