Chapter Fourteen

The rain drummed against the rehab center’s windows, indicating that the southwest monsoon hadn’t yet finished its five-month deluge. Chantal stepped around Alexis, who swiped at a dirty patch with a balding mop. They’d need a new supply after the long rainy season. The muddy parking lot caused issues. Dishan and some of her loitering guards helped to replace an elderly patient’s flat tire in the sludge. Lucius and Kohen escorted a drunk panhandler out of the center, and his shouts grew faint as they walked him down the street. Pausing to straighten a picture frame on the wall, Chantal scanned the packed waiting room. Forgetting about Gage turned out to be an impossible challenge, especially when he knelt to play with a toddler in the corner. The warrior’s shoulder flexed as he reached back to ensure that his weapon sat out of reach, and Chantal paused to stare at his amiable expression as he handed the girl a packet of gummies. God, Gage was good with people—good with kids. Way better than the rest of his team and could probably outperform Chantal when it came to connecting with patients. Although she loved her work, she still kept a professional distance. If she were honest, her reasons for separation included self-preservation.

Engaging in Arabic, Gage laughed with the kid’s father as the older man relaxed into their conversation. Turning serious, the man showed Gage his scarred arm and dysfunctional right hand. Chantal knew the new patient’s history. His old injury was a result of a xenophobic attack. Muslims were a minority in Sri Lanka—only nine percent practiced Islam. Anti-Muslim sentiments came on the heels of anti-Tamil attitudes. Not all of the majority population felt this way about the minorities, but rising religious tensions played a massive role in Sri Lanka’s past, present, and possible future. Large-scale violence on Sri Lankan streets was an ever-present possibility. 

“Are you going to gape at him all day? Or take the next patient?” 

Chantal jumped to attention. “Next patient… yes.”

Grinning, Alexis handed over a file. “We have a SMOS.” A “SMOS” meant a standard manipulation of the spine.

“New patient. Bram Miller. He’s an American who’s feeling stiff and needs an adjustment while on vacation.”

“And he waited in that long line?” 

“No. Mr. Miller came in ten minutes ago. Says he has a train to catch and asked us to squeeze him in. A local told him you’re the best.”

“We can’t have him pushing in front of other patients.”

“We can, when he writes a generous donation check. He’s in room one.” 

“That is an exception.” Chantal grinned. 

She headed for the treatment room, passing Gannon, who paced the hallway. 

“If you’re bored, Gage is handing out candy in the front. You can join him.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Winking, the massive agent mock-saluted as she stepped through the doors to greet her patient. 

A physically-fit-looking man sat on the chiropractic table. The severe lines of his face made her pause. Close-seated eyes framed a warped nose—which looked like it had been punched apart too many times. A scar ran across his jaw, and it flexed as she entered the intimate space. He looked to be in his early fifties. 

“Morning, Mr. Miller.”

“Howdy.” He growled the word. 

Chantal chose the nearest stool. His gaze had her focusing on his file instead. 

“Can you describe exactly how you feel?”

Pale blue eyes ran over her face with an unsettling intensity. “Feel fine. Reckon, I need some cracking.”

Picking up on his strong accent, Chantal asked, “Are you from Texas? I visited Houston about eight years ago.”

“I’m from all over.” He ran a hand through greasy black hair. “Can we get this done?”

Forcing a smile, Chantal stood and directed him to lie on his stomach. She made a few adjustments and then, ignoring his stale body odor, asked him to turn on his side for a direct thrust technique. 

He turned, and striking out like a viper, he grabbed her wrist and covered her mouth with a meaty palm. Her heart thumped as Chantal tried to wriggle free of the vicious hold. He wrapped his legs around her thighs in a vice-like grip. Like a python crushing a tiny mouse, and all she could do was squeak in alarm. 

“You’re sweeter than a baby’s breath, aren’t ya.” 

The whispering kiss to her neck had her whimpering. As he squeezed his bruising grip on her mouth, pressure increased, and her pulse throbbed behind her eyes in time with her frantic heart. 

“Fucking gorgeous.”

Would he rape her in the room? The first chance she got, Chantal would scream and fight the asshole with everything she had. Her local detail and six MSD agents patrolled the center. She needed just one to hear her cry for help. 

 “Relax, sweetheart. You’re to stay quiet. If you don’t, innocent people will die. I have a team ready… parked down the block—high-powered rifles, ready to execute patients and decorate your clinic with pretty bullet holes. And I’ll blow out your sweet brains before your fancy-ass soldiers come through that door. Do you want that?”

Sweat trickled down her neck. 

“Do you fucking want that?”

Chantal shook her head.

“I’ll ask you a few questions. Answer them, and no-one dies. Are we clear?” 

She nodded.

“I ain’t right in the head, honey. I don’t mind dying on the job. Get me?”

Swallowing past her dry throat, Chantal jerked her head.

He slowly released his hand from her sore mouth and twisted her to face him. “I don’t have time for a lengthy interrogation. But, one day, I’d love to use my knives on you.” 

Oxygen flooded her lungs, and she tried not to hyperventilate. 

“Where’s the USB?”

“The… what?”

“Don’t play games. That bitch who stole the cassettes, also walked away with a flash drive. Where is it?”

“I… I have no idea.” And Chantal didn’t. The only evidence Pearl had handed over at the embassy was the camcorder cassettes.

“You know what’s on the drive, don’t you?” A hand wrapped around her neck and began to squeeze. 

“I don’t… please.”

Chantal kicked out in a panic. Fingers tightening, he flipped her onto the table. Gasping for breath, she clawed at his hand. 

“I expected more from Henri’s daughter. C’mon, fight me.”

Eye’s widening, Chantal tried to claw at his face as he squeezed. The flat, cruel face of a monster would be the last thing she’d see. Her vision blurred, and her head pounded. Chantal’s tears trickled into her hair. 

“Relax, kitten.” The bastard released his grip, and she rolled onto the floor. “Not your fault that you had a sorry excuse for a father.”

His baffling words punched through her terror and her fight for oxygen. 

Kneeling, he traced her ear. “Your daddy was a nasty man. We were partners once. Why do you think an assassin spectacularly shot him on your school steps? The dickhead’s ten-gallon mouth earned him a bullet to the head.”

Jabbing her elbow back, Chantal caught him in the chest. Falling forward, she kicked out and clocked him in the jaw.

Opening her mouth, she screamed. Nothing happened. 

“Gage.” Chantal tried to shout his name as she scrabbled towards her equipment shelf in the corner and grabbed the nearest makeshift weapon—a steel activator. The room swayed, and she collapsed to the floor.

“Rajin needs answers. If you don’t have the USB, call Pearl. If the information on that drive is leaked—you’ll take the fall.”

The door opened and closed, and Chantal twisted to face the table. Her entire body shook as she pointed the activator at the empty room. Minutes passed as paralyzing horror spread through her like icy tentacles. Move, Chantal. Get help. Muscles twitched, and she forced herself to move. Would he still shoot up the building? Chantal tried to stand. Her legs wouldn’t work. Wasting time, Chantal crawled for the door, calling Gage’s name in a whispered cry. Reaching up, she pulled the handle and spilled into the hallway. And there was Gage, talking with Alexis…. his back to her. That broad, shielding back. Alexis greeted Sunny as he walked by.

He was the first to see her and shouted her name. “Miss Chantal! Miss Chantal!”

Gage turned, his dawning horror reflecting Chantal’s own shattered confusion. As if in slow motion, he ran and skidded to his knees. His form clouded in a swimming haze. Warm hands cupped her face. 

“What happened, Chants? What the fuck!” 

“Patient… Miller... Quick.” The words came out on a croak. 

Gage spoke through comms as Alexis knelt and stroked Chantal’s arm. She immediately jerked away. 

“Easy.” Alexis eased onto her haunches. “Miller? The American patient?”

Lucius ran up.

Chantal forced words out past her aching throat. “Working… for Rajin. Team with guns… going to hurt patients. Get them to safety.”

 “Understood.” Gage stood and swung her into his arms. “Lucius?”

“On it, sir.”

 “Hospital. Now!” Gage shouted, hurrying down the passage. His fiery eyes flashed as they traced over her throbbing neck.

“No. I’m… okay.” 

“You can barely talk.” He growled the words from gritted teeth.

“There’s an emergency care two blocks away,” Alexis volunteered as she ran up from behind. Agents and guards converged from all sides as they rushed for a side door. In a daze, Chantal realized that they’d rehearsed a retreat, and she couldn’t stop the rolling protocol—even if she had the strength. Resting her head on Gage’s solid vest, Chantal concentrated on breathing through the shock. Her throat throbbed, but it didn’t feel damaged enough to warrant high care, but she could be wrong.

“Put her in the back.” Wyatt opened the door, and Gage tucked her close and climbed in. Kohen—the MSD medic slid in beside them. 

“Gage, you’re here for support, which means MSD falls back. You can’t ride with us.” Wyatt ordered Gage to climb out. “Your medic can stay.”

“I’m not leaving her.”

Chantal didn’t want anyone else near and gripped the strap of Gage’s ballistic vest. She hated all the armor and wanted to feel his broad chest. His arms tightened in a possessive hold.

“This isn’t your detail. The local—”

“They fucked up just as we did,” Gage shouted the words.

“He’s right.” Dishan climbed in the driver’s seat. “A wolf slipped through our defenses and got to the principal. Gage can stay. The rest of my men will follow.” 

“We’re wasting time. Close the damn door, Wyatt. Let’s go.” 

Nostril’s flaring, Wyatt did as asked, but Chantal couldn’t relax her hold. The scent of her attacker clung to her skin, and she could taste his odor—feel his hands squeezing. Shuddering and reaching out, she grasped Gage’s fingers. His hand wrapped around hers in a reassuring grasp. 

“You’re safe,” he whispered. “Where do you hurt?”

“Neck.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m so goddamn sorry.”

So was Chantal—that monster could have easily killed her. Continued strangling instead of letting go. Even with her self-defense training, he’d overpowered her with ease. She’d traveled the globe, thinking she was invincible. Not invincible—foolish. Feeling weak and scared, Chantal allowed her tears to fall.