He took her hand, a frown forming on his forehead. “My pleasure.”
Marta shook his hand briefly, determined to make it quick and get in the van before she started bawling like a baby. When she started to pull her hand out of his grip, his fingers tightened around hers.
Only for a second longer.
Then he let go and stepped back. “Take care of her,” he said to Marsh, his tone strong, his gaze on Marta.
Marta pulled the fake passport from her pocket and handed it to Crusher. “I don’t think I’ll need this anymore.” She turned and walked to the van, emotion welling in her chest.
One of Marsh’s security team climbed in first. Marta stepped up into the dark interior of the van. The other security guy got in beside her, and Marsh got in last.
Marta leaned around the men as the door slid closed.
Crusher stood with his teammates, his gaze on her. The last words she heard from him were, “Asset delivered.”
The words hit her in the gut. Asset. Was that all she was to him?
She sat back in the seat, tears filling her eyes. Anger should have kept them from falling. Instead, a deep, relentless sadness tore at her heart.
Pain doesn’t kill you, she reminded herself.
Yet, it felt as if something inside her had died.
Chapter 13
He’d done the job he’d been sent to do. When Phantom and Draco turned to go back inside the hotel, Crusher remained where he was, watching as the van drove slowly out of the hotel driveway. It rounded the end of the building and disappeared out of sight.
The handoff had gone according to plan. Marsh had arrived on schedule; he had a security team, and they had secured Marta.
A tug at the back of his mind made his eyes narrow. Something was off. The handoff had gone smoothly, so why was his gut screaming at him?
Maybe it was too smooth?
“Do you want me to make the call to Royce?” Draco asked.
Crusher barely heard him. The realization that they’d made a terrible mistake washed over him. He started walking in the direction the van had gone.
“Crusher!” Phantom called out. “Where are you going?”
His steps quickened until he was running. When he rounded the building, the van came into view twenty yards ahead, its brake lights glowing bright red as it slowed. The side panel slid open, and someone was shoved out.
A flash of salt-and-pepper-streaked hair sent alarm bells ringing through Crusher’s mind. He ran faster.
“Crusher!” Marta’s voice cried out as the van door slid closed.
He was still ten yards from the van when the driver hit the accelerator. The tires squealed, gripped the pavement, and shot the vehicle forward, spitting gravel behind it.
Crusher kept running, praying for traffic to slow it enough for him to catch up. He didn’t know what he would do if he did, but he had to try. Marta was in that van, being taken away by God knew who.
His prayers went unanswered as the distance between him and the van became impossible to close. A car honked behind him, swerved and nearly clipped him, making him realize he was running down the middle of the street.
When the van disappeared into the traffic, Crusher slowed to a stop, gasping for air, his heart thundering against his ribs. Marta was gone. He’d brought her through the jungle, past Vasquez’s men in Costa Rica and lost her here in Miami.
“Fuck!” Crusher yelled, spun and ran back to where Marsh lay on the side of the road.
Phantom and Draco had moved him onto the sidewalk to keep him from being run over by other vehicles.
“Is he alive?” Crusher demanded.
