Dare To Love Series: Icy Dare (Kindle Worlds Novella) Read online

  She’d just put her dishes in the dishwasher when her phone rang. Sakharre smiled. Shutting the door, she wiped her hands off on a towel and swiped her cell.

  “I’m fine, Louis. Just finished supper and am making notes to discuss with my advisor.”

  “We’re having a cookout after practice tomorrow. I want you to come with me.”

  It was the team’s bye week, so the men were taking advantage of not having a game this Sunday.

  “Send me the details, and I’ll try to make it.”

  “Sis,” he warned.

  She headed to her bedroom. “I have a busy day tomorrow, but I promise I’ll do my best to make it.”

  “No excuses. I expect to see you there as my plus one.”

  “Do they even have those for informal gatherings?” She shook her head in amusement.

  “They do now. I will see you there.” He hung up.

  “Lord, that man needs a wife, so he stops bothering me.” She tossed her phone to the bed and scanned the room for the box she sought. “Of course I’ll be there. I mean, I have nothing else going on in my life,” she uttered sarcastically. “Perhaps, I should consider finish unpacking at some point here.”

  She had a listing of potential jobs for her degree, if she could just find it. The phone rang again, and she scooped it up on her way to the box she believed—hoped—the list was in.

  “I said I would think about it, Louis.”

  Deep, heavy breathing met her greeting. She paused in opening the box.

  “Hello?”

  “You’ll get what’s coming to you, bitch.” The words rolled over the line, full of menace and hatred.

  She ended the call and sank, shaking, to the floor. Her head swam, and her breathing raced out of control. Light headed, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to make herself as small as possible. The phone rang again, but she refused to move, just sat there, in a small ball, and prayed.

  αβ

  Sakharre was only slightly less on edge at the cookout the following afternoon.

  She smiled and mingled as she nibbled on the spread. These men could eat, and there was no shortage of food. The atmosphere, thankfully, was laid back with wives and girlfriends, as well as children, in attendance.

  On a swing, she nursed her tea and watched Louis throw a pass.

  “That right there is why you’re not the QB. He sure as hell ain’t got to watch out for you to take his job.”

  Louis flipped the defensive player off and ambled to where she sat. He lowered himself to the ground beside her with a grunt.

  “Giving up your QBing career already?” she teased as he snatched her yellow plastic cup from her hand and took a drink.

  “Not you, too,” he griped. “You, I’ll throw in the pool.”

  She clucked her tongue. “Sorry. I just ate. I can’t go in the water for at least another hour.”

  “Like hell, you barely ate.”

  She scrunched her toes in the soft grass and popped a bite of her hot dog bun in her mouth. “Luckily, it doesn’t state how much has to have been eaten.”

  He harrumphed. “Are you having fun?”

  “Of course,” she replied instantly. It was the truth. The longer she stayed, the more fun she had. He glanced up at her, worry in his gaze. She touched his face. “I am. Promise. Go on, play.”

  He rose, and she halted him with a simple touch. “Let someone else be the QB if you’d like to win.”

  He propped ham-sized fists on his waist. “Really?” The gruff rumble making her smile.

  “I think Rayvon over there will be good,” she said, pointing at the young boy eating cake.

  “That’s it,” he said. “You’re going in the pool.”

  She screeched and bolted, her plate left on the swing. Her brother may be big, but damn, he was fast, catching her in two strides. She struggled as he tucked her under his arm and strode determinedly toward the pool.

  “Don’t you dare,” she threatened.

  Her threat was pointless. He launched her out into the middle of the large pool. As water closed over her head, she sank to the bottom and sat there, arms at her sides. She opened her eyes and stared up and out to those along the pool. Two children splashed in, and she slowly pushed toward the surface.

  Breaking free of the water, she wiped the liquid from her face. The kids in the pool with her splashed in her direction. Returning the favor, she stroked lazily to the edge.

  Louis was there, arms crossed, and embroiled in a deep belly laugh. Behind him came three of his fellow defensemen. She pointed at him, scowling. “Not nice.”

  “Wasn’t supposed to be. It was to be funny.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  “Depends on where you’re standing. See, from here, it is.”

  She ducked as his teammates shoved him in. When he surfaced, her laughter still rolled. “You’re right, Louis, it is funny depending on where you’re at.”

  Others jumped in, and chaos erupted. Her mood lightened, she was still high on the endorphins from the party as she drove home later that night. Spinning her keys in hand, she strode down the hallway to her door. She fought a yawn and let herself in, making sure to lock the door behind her and engage the door chain.

  Once her keys were in the dish, she walked to her bathroom to remove the damp clothing she wore. Twenty minutes later, warm from the shower and yawning, she went to her bedroom and crawled between the cool sheets.

  Her scream came too late when the hand settled over her mouth. She barely inhaled when a sharp blow shot her to the land of darkness, head lolling to the side.

  Chapter Six

  The theme from Magnum P.I. wouldn’t quit, and Dorian cursed as he rolled over in his bed and fumbled for the offensive object delivering the tone. His head would have been less painful had there been a jackhammer going off inside his skull.

  Damn drink.

  He’d gotten home and drowned his memories of the first woman to mean anything to him in years. There! He grabbed his phone and snarled, “What?”

  “They took her.”

  There wasn’t anything more sobering in the world to him than those three words. He didn’t have to ask who it was or who they spoke about. Deep in his gut, he knew. Sakharre was in trouble, again.

  He bolted up, eyes squinting against the sun that dared to shine through his windows. “How long has she been gone?”

  Louis coughed. “I don’t know. I’ve not heard from her for three days, but I don’t know when they took her.”

  “What happened?” Dorian demanded, swinging his feet to the floor and striding to his dresser.

  “The last I saw her was after a cookout with one of the guys. She went home, seemed in a good mood. But that’s it. She vanished. I wouldn’t think anything more than she ran again, but I saw on her Surface that she had a meeting with her advisor, and he said she never showed for it.” He coughed, again. “Plus, that damn bag of hers is still there.”

  “What did Tyler say?” He put the phone on speaker as he shoved into his BDUs and fastened them.

  “They were working on things, but I don’t think it will be enough. I need my sister found.”

  “Tyler is the best at what he does,” he assured Louis. “If he’s on it, there’s not much more that can be done.” He drew on a black shirt and looked for his combat boots. Last time, he’d gone in jeans; this time, he was going prepared. They’d fucked with his woman.

  Dorian stopped and stared at his reflection. Hard lines, unforgiving eyes, except when he thought about Sakharre. Yeah, he’d admit it, she was his, and he’d wallowed in his self-pity and drank long enough. Time to get her back. And keep her.

  “You found her the first time.”

  He knelt and laced up his boots. “And I will, again. I’m sure Tyler has some lead to go on by now.” His phone beeped, and he reached for it. “Just one moment. This is him, now. I’ll call you back.” Dorian clicked over. “What do you have?”

  He went to his drawer and pulled out
his sidearms. One M9 Beretta—usable but not his favorite weapon—then his Glock 19. Both issued to him when he served. Chambering a round in each, he listened to what Tyler filled him in on what they’d gotten from Clay and his jackass buddies. They weren’t in any way linked to the ones who’d shot up the cabin. Those were more from the human trafficking ring. Tyler had sent word up there to law enforcement to take care of that.

  “I’m on my way,” he informed Tyler. “I’ll let you know when I get there.”

  Some remote spot in the Rocky Mountains—Teton Range. Dorian ended the call and gathered a few more things he may need then left his apartment once more. He hopped in his truck and went to the airfield at the outskirts of town and parked.

  “Joey,” he called out, sliding out onto the snowy ground. “You around?”

  “In the back.”

  Gear slung over one shoulder, he strode in that direction. “I need a ride.”

  His older brother walked out from the back of the hangar and froze. “Damn, I thought it was you but couldn’t be sure. Where the hell are you going, looking like you’re ready for war?”

  He just blinked, and Joey swore. “You can’t live like you’re still on the battlefield, Dorian. You know that.”

  “I don’t have time for this, Joey. I need you and your plane. I need to get out to the Grand Tetons.”

  “Jesus, you’re serious, aren’t you? Man, I can’t drop everything and fly across the country on a whim.”

  Dorian shifted his stance. “It’s not a whim.”

  Joey zipped up his leather jacket. “Then, what is it?”

  “A rescue mission.”

  He shook his head. “You’re not at war, anymore. You’ve come home, well, part of you, anyway.”

  “Damn it, Joey,” Dorian snapped. “I know I’m home. I know this isn’t the Middle East. I even know I have PTSD. That’s not what this is about. This is about the woman I love having been kidnapped and being held somewhere out near the Tetons. I need a plane. I’ll pay you for it. Damn, just file the flight plan and get my ass out there!”

  Eyes like his own widened before his brother executed a perfect one-eighty and jogged toward the Lear he had for his charter business. Dorian checked his phone and memorized what Tyler sent him then followed after his sibling.

  Within the hour, they were taxiing down the plowed runway and lifting off into the winter sky.

  “Come up here,” Joey announced over the intercom.

  Dorian left his seat and ducked into the cockpit. His brother gestured to the seat beside him, and he wordlessly sat. “What?”

  Joey glared. “Really? That’s what you come with? What? How about hi? How are you? Anything like that. Christ, man, we live in the same goddamn town, and you avoid me like the plague. Maybe I can get to know a bit more about the woman who’s gotten you to come to me for help. Who she is, and where you met her? Not to mention when.”

  Joey was right. He didn’t talk to his brother, anymore. Occasionally, when they saw each other in town, they would speak, but he generally avoided him. Until he needed his help, and it was the first name that popped into his head. He at least deserved to know a bit about Sakharre. So, Dorian told him.

  αβ

  Snapping a salute to his brother as Joey turned the jet to return home, Dorian readjusted the strap over his shoulder. He’d called ahead and had a truck waiting for him, and he made his way toward it. The snow fell here, and the wind blew.

  Hell of a lot colder than it had been in Miami when he was there. He could see why some people liked it. Personally, he preferred cold weather but to each their own. Tossing the bag to the passenger seat, he pulled out his phone and checked the GPS.

  Finding his way from the airport to the hotel, he checked in and closed himself off in the room. He’d go out tonight and set up. Someone knocked at his door, and he frowned, rising to answer it, Glock in hand.

  “Yes?” he called through the wood.

  “Open up; it’s cold as a witch’s tit out here.”

  “Joey?” He swung the door open. “What the hell are you doing here? Didn’t I see you heading home?”

  His brother brushed by him, dusting off the snow on his shoulders. “Changed my mind. Besides, if I don’t help you now, you may never let me meet this woman.”

  Dorian clicked the door shut and groaned. “I don’t need to keep an eye on you, as well.”

  “May not have been a Ranger like you, little bro, but I’ve lived out in the wilderness my entire life. Don’t let the pilot’s uniform throw you. I’m still a damn good hunter and tracker.”

  “Fuck.” He scrubbed a hand over his features.

  “I won’t be in the way. Let me help you get your woman back.”

  “Okay.”

  They ate and planned. Nine at night, they dressed warm, divided up the weapons, and headed out to the truck. Silence reigned between them as they drove up deeper into the mountains. At a side spot, Dorian pulled off and allowed the vehicle to idle.

  “I go up this way, you drive up and past then come back down. We may be leaving in a hurry.”

  “I got it.” Joey slid over to the driver’s seat once Dorian stepped out. “I’ll keep an eye out for your signal.”

  “Do you even know what it will be?”

  “Hell no, but given it’s you, I’m expecting something big and fiery.” He gestured with his thumb. “Go get my sister-in-law.”

  Dorian didn’t bother pointing out he’d not even asked her to marry him and merely nodded. A wave and he slipped off into the darkness. One of the group had broken under questioning and had given up the location. Still, Dorian wasn’t about to run in half-cocked. That would be stupid and could risk Sakharre. Something he wasn’t going to do.

  As he moved, he recited the Ranger creed in his head, the familiarity of it giving strength to his legs and lungs as they burned in the thin air.

  It took him over an hour to reach his destination, and he moved up to the cabin. Two lights burned in the windows. Cautiously, he peered into one and saw Sakharre pacing in the living room. She wasn’t tied up.

  Why doesn’t she run? There was no one else in sight. Then, he looked at her feet. They were bare. They’d taken her shoes from her, knowing she’d not get far with frozen feet. This way they didn’t have to watch her constantly. Nor did she have a jacket.

  It wouldn’t keep her for long; he saw it on her face. She was working it out in her mind, how to get out. He scoped out the room—no cushion covers to use as protection, no blankets, nothing.

  He tracked her movement and took the time to register in her appearance. The busted lip and bruised eye pissed him off. Other than that, however, she looked to be fine. Aside from pissed.

  Dorian tapped on the window. She froze, like a deer caught in the headlights. Staring at the window, she frowned and eventually moved closer.

  “Where are you going?” a man barked.

  Dorian pressed himself against the side.

  “Thought I’d climb out the window and take a moonlit stroll. Where the hell do you think I’d go? I have no shoes, no coat. I’m walking around.”

  “Why that window?”

  “I saw Tinkerbell,” she snapped. “Was hoping for some fairy dust to fly out of here.”

  “Fuck you, bitch.”

  “Go blow yourself,” she retorted.

  Dorian wanted to tell her not to provoke them, but it would be pointless. When he made his presence known, it wouldn’t be for polite conversation.

  “You’re pushing me,” the man warned.

  “You and the other two here can get fucked for all I care.”

  Dorian smiled with pride. Good girl. You’ve told me how many. Now, if you can tell me where they are.

  Heart pounding, Sakharre unflinchingly held the gaze of one of the trio who had taken her from her apartment. I can’t believe Dorian’s here. He came for me. He actually came for me. The man she glared at had been a cop for sixteen years before his misconduct had been too much f
or the department to further overlook, and he’d been let go. The other two were still cops.

  “You know when Scully gets here tomorrow, that smart mouth of yours is going to get a good workout.” He grabbed himself. “You’re going to service all of us.”

  “So, you and the two sleeping in the back are scared of this Scully. Who’s he, Clay’s bitch?” How did they do it in movies to let the rescuers know how many and where? I think that’s all I can say.

  “Scully’s his big brother. He hates that you’ve put his baby bro in prison. And he hates you.”

  “I hate that he’d been stalking me, so I guess we’re even.”

  She moved back toward the window, hoping for another glimpse of Dorian. There wasn’t one, and for a moment, her heart dropped to her feet. What if he’d been nothing more than another figment of her imagination? If that was the case, she’d definitely signed her death warrant. These men wanted blood, her blood, to spill for retaliation on Clay. Only their fear of Scully was keeping her alive for the moment.

  The bastard followed her, and she bit back her whimper of fear. She’d been hit before; she could take it, again. He raised his hand, and the window shattered. With a sharp squeal, she dove to the floor as Dorian broke through and took her captor to the ground.

  Hands over her eyes, she peeked in time to see Dorian kill him. Noise from the back warned of the arrival for the other two. She cowered into herself as gunshots volleyed back and forth.

  “Sakharre?”

  She opened her eyes and looked up to see Dorian striding toward her. Scrambling to her feet, she jumped into his arms, tears flowing.

  He wrapped his strong arms around her. “You’re safe, now.” He drew back enough to place a kiss on her lips. “Come on, we have to go.”

  “They were going to kill me.”

  “And, now, they’re dead. Come on. Let’s go.” He scooped her up and carried her out into the night.

  She shivered and burrowed closer to him. “I should have taken some of their boots. You can’t carry me, and I can’t walk without protection.”

  “I can carry you, but we’re not going that far. Just to the road.” He shifted her a little, and moments later, an explosion shook the ground. Behind him, the cabin erupted into flames.