Riding Shotgun (Mercenaries 3) Read online

  “You need a better kiss than that. For good luck.” Tilting her head up, Shotgun wrapped his arms around her and seared a kiss across her lips, letting his mouth linger for an endless minute on hers. She let herself luxuriate in it for a moment, luxuriate in the almost unfathomable fact that this great big hunk of man had nothing better to do than stand here and help settle those dang butterflies.

  “Go get them, little girl. I’ll be waiting right here at the finish line when you’re done showing those yahoos how a car should be driven.” He slid his hands down her arms in a soft caress before he finally let her go.

  She was starting to like being called little girl. Did that make her weird? Firmly ignoring the butterflies that felt like they were multiplying by the hundreds inside her belly, Kalie secured her helmet and slid into the cockpit of her car. Making sure the safety harness was secured seemed to help settle the butterflies down a bit. At least if she made a major mistake, she’d probably live to tell her grandchildren about it.

  Wow, where had that come from? She’d never ever considered having children before Shotgun showed up. The guy was a damn bad influence on her. She felt a soft smile start to curve the corner of her mouth. Be a scary bunch of kids with them for parents.

  Taking a deep breath, she started the engine. As it revved up, she let her senses flare out. She immediately felt that almost magical connection to the machine, the legacy of all the horrors in the lab. Not everything from that period in her life turned out bad. Her consciousness expanded to explore every nook and cranny of the mechanical wonder, checking for anything that felt off.

  Nothing.

  The car was behaving perfectly; every little bit of metal doing exactly what it had been designed to do. Shotgun was probably right -- there was nothing wrong. She was letting her nerves and her imagination see problems where they didn’t exist. Not surprising, given the huge changes in her life lately and how much was riding on this race.

  She glanced at her watch. Five minutes to the start of the race. She blew a kiss at Shotgun, fully aware that he couldn’t see the gesture from inside the helmet. The drive to the start line gave her time to warm the car up, accelerating fast and then braking hard. Her tires needed to be warm, and the engine running at peak in order to get away from the start line clean. A good start would be essential to placing in the race.

  She glanced at the other cars. A total of twenty drivers had been invited to participate and she’d lucked out, drawing the inside forward position for start.

  The starter signalled the last warning, and Kalie watched a couple of mechanics scramble away from the cars. She wondered idly what it would be like to have to depend on someone else to tell her if her car was running properly.

  Flexing her fingers on the steering wheel, she eased her car into the favored slot, mentally counting down the last sixty seconds.

  The flag dropped, and her focus narrowed to the first critical corner. She needed to get there fast, and she needed to avoid the heavier cars that would jostle for position. There weren’t a lot of rules out here, and some of the drivers would target her just because she was female, and because she’d been showing them up for years. This wasn’t a popularity contest, and she’d made her share of enemies.

  She rounded the first corner in a good position. Two cars had made it ahead of her, but she’d heard the sickening squealing of metal on metal behind her that signified more than one car was already out of the race. She didn’t look back.

  The course was a loose circuit through the roads on the outskirts of the city. A mixture of corners, long straight stretches and engine-testing hills ensured that the cars would have a good workout. After the first corner, the cars started to spread out, which suited her just fine. She planned to hang back just behind the leaders until just before the end. As long as she didn’t lag too far, she’d be able to swing to the outside and blast past the lead cars before they knew what hit them.

  She let her senses expand, keeping a close feel on how the car was running. That was the one wildcard here. Her ride had to be running at peak in order to pull this off. So far, so good.

  * * *

  The truck came out of nowhere. One moment, she was cruising along with seven car lengths between her and anyone else on the road, the next this behemoth of a truck on steroids was right beside her. With the roughest part of the race just around the corner, the last thing she wanted was to compete for space on the blacktop with something that outweighed her by a factor of three.

  Damn.

  This was what she got for concentrating too much on the car, and not the other drivers. Dropping a gear, she slammed her foot down on the throttle and brake. The engine screeched as the car shed speed and fell back.

  The truck-from-hell must have been anticipating that move, though, and matched her. There went the theory that it was just a coincidence. It started to move sideways, trapping her between its bulk and a high cement block wall. Not a place she wanted to be.

  He’d expect her to try to outrun him, and it might even work. While the truck had bulk in its favor, her vehicle was lighter and faster. The question was could she get clear of him before he smeared her all over this wall?

  Maybe. If she managed to outwit him first.

  Instead of accelerating, she took a deep breath and repeated the braking maneuver. This time, she managed to drop a full car length behind the truck before the driver reacted. And while he braked to get back into squishing position, she jerked hard on the steering wheel and got herself into the outside lane. Calling on every bit of horsepower under the shiny blue hood, she accelerated sharply. She needed to get the hell out of here.

  The corner came up fast, and she had to do some pretty slick juggling to stop her ride from sliding off the blacktop. She didn’t have time to check on the whereabouts of the truck, or anyone else. When the car quit its bucking and sashaying, she breathed in a deep sigh of relief. It was short-lived.

  The black truck roared up behind her, bumping her hard. Shit! She dropped a gear and tramped on the gas, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t possibly manage to outmuscle the damn thing, and it looked like he could match her ride for speed as well

  Sure enough, black filled her rearview mirror again as her car rocked from another direct impact. How many more of those would she be able to take? At least the car was behaving this time. She let herself merge with it, looking for any signs of weakness. Nothing. At least that wasn’t an issue, but she certainly hadn’t reinforced the outside structure. This wasn’t supposed to be a demolition derby.

  A car appeared up ahead of her. There might be safety in numbers. She sure as hell hoped so. Bracing herself for the next impact, she concentrated on pouring everything she had into catching up with the leaders.

  The next hit came out of the blue. Instead of ramming her bumper from directly behind, the truck swung wide and hit the right rear panel.

  For a single split second, she could see the driver’s face. Rage contorted his features, but the eyes were what sent a chill down her spine. This was personal. He wanted to hurt her. And she had no idea why. Or who the hell he was.

  The off-center impact had her reeling, her forward momentum sending her into a complete spin before she managed to get the vehicle under control. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  This guy really meant business. What the hell? She no longer cared about the race, she just wanted to cross the finish line alive.

  She glanced around wildly, hoping to spot an alley too narrow for the other vehicle to follow her. No such luck. This end of town didn’t sport those handy little things. Too bad.

  The truck hung behind her for a full mile. Taunting. Letting the tension build. That glimpse of the driver’s face haunted her, but she shook it off. Right now who and why was so less important than getting out of this alive.

  If she could just hang in for another five miles…

  The hit was calculated to take her out of the race. Permanently. Every hit leading up to this had been
a game.

  Cat and mouse. The memory of a cat, playing endlessly with its victim before ending its life with a simple toss in the air, snapping the little neck with casual disregard, went through her mind. Same game. Hopefully not the same results.

  Time slowed. The car spun. Endlessly. Kalie squeezed her eyes shut. Willed her stomach to stay put. Thank God there was no cliff edge here. No solid walls to crash into. She slammed the shifter into neutral, letting the car go where it needed to until the revolutions slowed.

  The final hit she expected, the end game, never materialized.

  The car slid to a halt. She opened her eyes, blinking to clear her vision.

  When she finally managed to focus, she saw three trucks. Her nemesis, the black behemoth, stood with its doors open. The other two were easier to recognize. Relief flooded her. Shotgun’s ride stood guard on one side of the black truck, while the mercenary group’s jeep crowded close on the other side. The driver of the black truck stood defiantly in the middle of the group of ex-soldiers, his hands up in a defensive position.

  Kalie watched as Shotgun stalked into the circle, rage showing in every line of his muscular body. He didn’t say a word, didn’t hesitate. Bringing his fists up, he hammered the other man with a series of quick jabs before sending him staggering with a roundhouse punch to the side of the head.

  Seriously? If anyone got to beat the crap out of this guy, it should be her. Opening the door, she leaned against the car for a moment as a wave of dizziness swept over her. Okay. Maybe not up to beating the crap out of anyone at the moment, but she at least wanted to know why. She was positive she’d never seen that guy before.

  “Kalie. You okay?” Trace left the circle to come to her side.

  She shook off his helping hand. The last thing she wanted was to appear weak in front of an enemy. And know him or not, it appeared she had one very determined enemy. “I’m fine. And I want to talk to that asshole before Shotgun kills him.”

  Trace grinned, relief in his eyes. He raised his voice. “Hey, Shotgun, your lady would like a word with your punching bag.”

  Shotgun slowed. Turned. Looked straight at her. The relief in his eyes was palatable. “Kalie.”

  Her name. That’s all he said but it resonated through her, deep down inside her, and she knew. Just like that, she knew she loved him. She could feel the smile blossoming on her face. She tried to focus her energy on the issue at hand but it was hard. “Hey, babe. I want some answers before you finish up here.”

  Shotgun turned and grabbed the swaying man by the arm. “No problem. I’m sure I can convince my buddy here to cooperate. What did you want to know?”

  The circle parted to let Kalie through. She needed to remember to thank them later, for being here for her. She wasn’t sure how they’d managed to materialize out of thin air, and she didn’t really care. She was just glad they had.

  She stepped to Shotgun’s side before addressing the stranger. “Who are you? And why did you try to run me off the road? Is winning the race really worth that much to you, that you’d practically kill me to do it? I wasn’t even one of the lead cars!”

  The man spat in the dirt at her feet, earning himself a sharp cuff across the side of the head from Shotgun. He ignored the mercenary, lips curled in contempt as he addressed her. “My name’s Grogan, but that’s not important. You’re one of those. An abomination. You’re not human, and yet you prance around like you think you can fool us.” He tossed his head. “These guys have any idea what you are, little lab rat? Do they know what they’re putting themselves on the line for? You don’t recognize me, do you?”

  Kalie shook her head, slowly. No matter how hard she tried, he just didn’t look familiar. “Do I know you?”

  He snorted. “You don’t have to. I know you. I was there when they strapped you down to that table and connected the wires. I know you are an abomination, just like the rest of them and you need to be exterminated. When sabotaging your car didn’t work, I decided to take a more direct approach.”

  Shotgun twisted the guy’s arm, forcing him to his knees. Pulling a Glock out of the waistband of his pants, he held it to the man’s temple. “I’ve heard enough. Kalie?”

  She shook her head. How could some people hate so much? She’d done nothing to this man, other than be unlucky enough to be tortured in his presence when she was a kid. She looked the man in the eye for a long moment. He stared right back, his eyes narrowed in fanatical hatred. She wasn’t a person to him, she was an animal that he intended to kill, but she’d be damned if she’d lower herself to his level. And, she didn’t want Shotgun to have this man’s death on his hands just because he had been unfortunate enough to meet her. He’d had no idea what he was getting himself into, and she felt a tiny bit guilty about that. Not guilty enough to let him go, however.

  Moving to his side, she smiled sweetly. “I don’t want you to kill someone on my behalf. Can’t we just rough him up a bit and send him on his way?”

  Shotgun put an arm around her waist, returning her smile with an evil grin. “I think that can be arranged.” He turned to Kaeden, lifting one eyebrow. “Sarge?”

  The blond Viking nodded curtly. “We’ll take care of it. You just make sure your woman is okay.”

  “Thanks.” Shotgun relaxed ever so slightly, pulling her closer to him, and Grogan took the opportunity to make a grab for the gun.

  Shotgun didn’t hesitate. Turning his body to shield Kalie, he flipped the gun around and clipped the man across the side of his head with the butt of the pistol. Grogan crumpled to the ground with a meaty thud.

  “Just had to, didn’t you?” Kaeden strode forward to stand over the prone figure. “Now we’re going to have to make sure he knows he’s not welcome to come back. It would have been simpler if you’d just shot him.”

  “Yeah.” Shotgun prodded Grogan with one foot. “But a head shot is so messy, and then we’d have to explain all that blood.”

  “True.” Kaeden grinned at Kalie. “Practical guy, this boyfriend of yours. You two might want to go take care of Kalie’s car while we make this cutie pie disappear.” His grin became less friendly. “Don’t worry. He won’t be bothering you again.”

  * * *

  “So what do you suppose they did to Grogan?” Kalie hooked her arms around Shotgun’s neck.

  “Whatever they do, it’s not going to be bad enough.” He leaned down to taste the sweetness of her lips. “He tried to kill you.”

  “But killing him isn’t the answer.” She smiled softly. “He isn’t worth it, and I’m much too happy right now to wish anyone harm, even an idiot like Grogan.”

  “Really?” He nibbled his way from the corner of her mouth to the tender spot right behind her ear lobe. “Because I think I would be okay with knowing he was absolutely positively never going to have another chance to harm you.”

  “Well, he’s not, because you and Kaeden and Trace and all the rest of them are going to make sure that I’m safe.” She giggled as he teased her neck with his tongue. “Now there’s only one thing standing in the way of our eternal happiness.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “And that would be?”

  She suppressed an evil laugh. “I don’t know your real name. How can I be in love with you if I don’t know your name?”

  He shook his head. “No one’s called me anything but Shotgun since boot camp.”

  “Not good enough.” She ducked her head to avoid another kiss. “Cough it up. What’s your real name?”

  He sighed heavily, shaking his head in mock concern. “Promise you won’t leave me?”

  She nodded. “How bad could it be?”

  He let out another heavy sigh. “It’s bad…”

  She waved one hand in the air. “Come on. Tell me.”

  “Oliver.”

  She felt her eyebrows rise sharply. “Seriously? Your name is Oliver?”

  He nodded.

  She crinkled her nose. “I think I’ll just call you Shotgun.”

  He lowere
d his head to give her mouth a thorough kissing. “Good plan. Now let’s see how long it takes me to get you out of those pants.”

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s going to take long.” Kalie reached down to unsnap the catch at the waist of her jeans. “Not long at all!”

  Anne Kane

  Anne is a gorgeous supermodel who writes romance in her spare time while jetting around Europe with a string of boy toys in tow.

  Hmmm… no one is going to believe that. How about this?

  Anne is an undercover agent for a super-secret government agency, and when not saving the world for democracy and all the good people, she writes romance one-handed on a special mini computer designed just for her by a mad scientist.

  Yeah, that sounds way better. So, ignore the people who tell you she’s just an ordinary person with an extraordinary imagination. They’re just jealous because she gets to play with James Bond and vacation in exotic locations.

  Honestly!

  When she’s not busy saving the world or writing the next great novel, she likes to kayak, hike, ride motorcycles, swim, skate, practice karate, play her guitar, sing, and of course, read.

  You can find her online at:

  Website: http://www.AnneKane.com

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