Page 62 of Taylor’s Warrior

The scene before him was almost a stereotype from a bad movie, but… there was something about it that didn’t sit right. Markham’s reaction to Taylor, for one. Rhys crept nearer, staying low and in the shadows.

“How very quaint, Ms. Markham, but I think that’s enough small talk. The items your father sent to you. Now.” He held out his hand. “If you please.”

Rhys watched as, after a moment’s hesitation, she leaned through the open window of the pickup, her movements slow and deliberate, as if she were delaying the moment as long as possible.

Envelope in hand, she turned back, pausing for a second or two before taking a step forward. This was the most dangerous time. Rhys scanned the scene, paying particularly close attention to the two heavies. The front man was probably armed, too, and as he stood closest to Taylor, he had to be the prime target. Rhys checked his firearm again and prepared to use it.

“I’m running out of patience, Ms. Markham. If you won’t voluntarily give me that envelope, I’ll just have to force you to do so.”

The tall, ascetic Englishman lunged forward, not to snatch the envelope from Taylor, but to make a grab for her. With Taylor between him and her captor, Rhys had no choice but to holster his weapon and launch into an explosive, lung-bursting run.

The tactical spotlights snapped on, blasting the whole area with dazzling light. A staccato volley of retina-searing flashbangs added to the confusion as the FBI agents broke cover, shouting their warning. The rapid-fire succession of concussive blasts was almost enough to rob anyone in the vicinity of their hearing, rendering those who weren’t expecting the full-on tactical assault almost blind and deaf.

Rhys, however, was a human-shaped missile locked onto his target. He threw all his weight and power into the impact with the man still holding Taylor’s arms in a vicious, biting grip. He took his enemy to the ground, and in the process, broke the hold he had on Taylor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her tumble to the ground, but there was nothing Rhys could do—his priority was neutralizing the threat to her life.

The battle was short and brutal. Rhys had been trained to fight as dirty as the situation required, but this time, the motivation was personal. He rolled over and over, taking his opponent under the jet and forcing the danger as far away from Taylor as possible, while around him, Livingston’s team set about neutralizing the remaining threats.

Momentum broke the lock he had on his adversary. Rhys surged to his feet and lunged forward. In one fluid movement, he blocked the other man’s attempt to land a vicious blow and responded with a merciless uppercut to the jaw. A kick here, a punch there, and the man was staggering. Rhys finally brought him down with a brutal chop that left him semi-conscious on the ground.

Rhys rolled his opponent onto his chest, and with the ease of much experience, immobilized his wrists with one of the zip ties Livingston had supplied. Keeping one hand on his captive, Rhys stood and hauled the man to his feet, just in time for Livingston to take over and haul his prisoner away to join his associates, also sporting plastic cuffs. With a brief chin lift to acknowledge the favor, Rhys jogged back around the jet to the pickup, looking for signs of where Taylor might have sought refuge.

He found her on the opposite side of the vehicle, crouched down with her back against the rear wheel, hands on the crown of her head, forearms protecting her face. His head congratulated her on her instinct to duck out of the way and take cover; his heart, on the other hand, could start beating again. He’d found her and she was safe. “Tay?”

For a second or two, she didn’t move a muscle. As he crouched down beside her, she moved her arms so she could see him. The terror in her eyes disappeared and his heart turned a celebratory somersault. She held out her hands.

Rhys seized hold and, as he stood, pulled her upright with him, the action so powerful it lifted her off of her feet and into his arms. He buried his face against her neck and silently thanked every deity in the universe that she appeared unharmed. “You okay?” he murmured.

He felt her vigorous nod.

“Are you?” she asked urgently. “What you did…”

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “All in a day’s work. Are you sure you’re all right? When he grabbed you⁠—”

“I’m okay, I promise. Look—the shaking’s almost stopped.” She moved one of her arms from around his neck and presented her hand to prove her point, before placing her palm against his cheek.

He let her slide down his body until her feet connected with solid ground, then covered her hand with his, so he could turn it palm up and kiss it. “I want you to stay in the pickup with the doors locked, while I⁠—”

“No way. I’m coming with you. I want to see my father.”

CHAPTER 19

After this, she was never going to let go of Rhys again. She buried her face in his chest, and let his arms take away all the pain and stress, not just of the last few hours but of the last few weeks. To all intents and purposes, it was over, and even now, like this, she barely dared let herself believe it.

What Rhys had started, Cruz Livingston and his team were finishing, with the assistance of local law enforcement, apparently summoned by the FBI team to provide support. The jet had been impounded for the investigation to follow, and even now, the Evidence Response Team was preparing to tear it apart. The KDT fixer and his thugs—identities to be confirmed but now assumed to be high-price, high-end muscle for hire—were already on their way to San Antonio to be interrogated, along with the pilot and cabin crew, who also had questions to answer. The materials they’d flown in to retrieve, though fake, were safely back in the possession of the FBI.

“What did Nick say?” Taylor asked.

At the first opportunity, once the situation was under control, Rhys had called Nick to brief him on what had happened, and that they would be on their way back to the ranch as soon as possible.

“He wanted to be absolutely sure we’re both all right. I told him, but I don’t think he’ll fully believe it until he sees us.”

“So, what did you say to him?”

“That we’re fine, neither of us needs hospitalization, and we’ll be back as soon as we can. He offered to come for us, but I told him there was no need. Unless you’d like to go now? I can always call him back and ask him to pick you up. I can finish off here.”

Taylor shook her head. Much though she appreciated the offer, it wasn’t what she wanted. “I’m staying here. I… I know it sounds stupid, but I feel safe when I’m with you.”

His arms tightened around her—everything she needed was in that hug. “Nothing you say sounds stupid. If that’s the way you feel, then you’re not going anywhere until we go together.”