Prime: A Bad Boy Romance Read online

  I check my weapons, set my timer to five minutes, take a deep breath and begin to scale the wall.

  It’s a three story building with a roof terrace, made of old crumbling brick that smells like car fumes and chalk, bleached white by the sun. I move quickly up to the third floor, to one of the two windows that haven’t yet been boarded up, flip the heat sensor goggles and edge towards the window frame.

  The outside wall is too thick for the heat sensor to work, but even before I get close enough to the window I can tell the room is empty. I detach the support from the cord, drop into the rectangular space quietly and press my back against the wall.

  The door to the room is broken and hangs off its hinges like a twisted branch after a thunderstorm. Beyond, into the darkness of the corridor, I see little else but dust and shadow. There is nothing on the heat sensor either, which means that either these walls are too thick to pick up the signal or what’s more likely is that there’s nobody in the coverage area.

  My timer says four minutes twenty seconds and counting. I leave the room, step carefully out into the corridor and work my way to the front door. This is an abandoned apartment still filled with remnants of the people that used to live here and when I see the family portrait still hanging on the wall, albeit slightly wonky, I get a shudder up and down my spine.

  At the door I hear the faint lilt of voices, and drop the goggles again. There are three people on the sensor, standing outside what I assume to be the door to another apartment in the block, beyond which there is another mass of heat, which could either be Ruby and her captors, or simply another group of soldiers on the payroll.

  I’ve got to get out of this apartment, through those three initial soldiers without anyone else inside the other apartment finding out, and then through whatever else is inside, before anyone gets a chance to either hurt Ruby or take her somewhere else. It’s not going to be easy, but easy wouldn’t be fun, and fun is why I got into this job in the first place. Besides which, the harder it is, the more impressed Ruby is going to be when I save her.

  The MK23 with silencer is perfect for this kind of situation, so with my gun of choice in my hand, I drop the latch on the door, and step into the shadows while it slowly swings open.

  As much as I would try to negotiate with hostage takers before taking any other offensive action, sometimes there are situations where the time for negotiations has long since passed. I can only imagine what they’ve been doing to Ruby over the last few days, and it’s absolutely certain that if I stepped out now with my hands in the air and every intention to try and enter into a peaceful trade, they’d fill me with so much lead they’ve have to reinforce the bottom of the coffin for my burial.

  The squeak of the door yawning open attracts the guard’s attention, and despite rule number one of keeping yourself alive in a situation like this being doing exactly the opposite, one of them decides to come and investigate.

  Illuminated by the glare of the lights above them, I can see exactly what I’m dealing with. Three idiots with outdated guns, playing games that are way out of their league. While the lead soldier and who I presume is the most experienced of the three approaches the open door, the other two look on with sleepy confusion. A second and a half later they are all dead, not a single one of them given time to even think about raising their guns. While I catch the falling soldier closest to me, it’s near impossible to dispose of the other two without them making a sound. I move into position quickly, waiting for the other apartment door to open.

  It doesn’t take long for another soldier to come and investigate the sound but before he has time to raise the alarm, his blood is running out against his chest. Outside the door at the far end of the corridor I take down two more guards, before quickly clearing the other rooms of the apartment before a single enemy shot is fired. Before I kick the door down, I count eleven soldiers dead in my wake, and I’ve hardly broken a sweat. Two years out of active service and I feel as fresh as ever.

  The door swings wide, snaps off it’s hinges and spins against the back wall. Out of the haze of dust come a volley of bullets that disappear down the corridor and zing into the darkness beyond. I can tell by the sound it’s an AK47, and whoever’s using it doesn’t give a fuck who he hits.

  The thinness of the wall gives me a heat location, and the accuracy of the glock does the rest. The first bullet drops him to his knees while the second chews through his chest, putting him down on his back.

  With whom I presume is the ringleader momentarily disabled, I turn my attention to the remaining guard whose idiocy in the face of attack outdoes all of the rest of them combined. For some reason he decides a kamikaze style attack is the best way to tackle the situation, and as soon as he rushes out into the corridor, I drop him like a sack of potatoes.

  The room is small, dusty and illuminated by a single angle poise lamp. On the ground in front of me, groaning in a pool of his own blood lies the man who I presume is the head of this amateur organization. A little further away, out of the spill of light provided by the lamp, lies the body of a young woman, her face covered by a hessian sack.

  I kick the AK47 away and shoot another bullet into the man’s arm just in case he thinks about picking it up again, and just in case Ruby wants to say a few choice words to him. After that I go to Ruby, and I know it’s Ruby because I’d recognise those perfect legs anywhere.

  I rip off the sack and wince at what they’ve done to her. She’s alive, but barely conscious, and as much as she might want to, she won’t be saying anything to anyone for a while.

  “Hello Ruby”, I say, my heart skipping a beat. “Let’s get you out of here.”

  I cut her hands and legs free from the chair they’ve bound her to, and before I gather her up into my arms, I dispense of her attacker, with a bullet straight through his forehead.

  “Jessica”, she moans to me, as she hangs her arms lifelessly around my neck. “They know where she is.”

  Chapter Seven

  Jaxon

  Going straight back to the airport isn’t an option with Ruby in the messed up way she’s in. I expected her to be knocked around a bit, but I was clearly being way too optimistic about what that might have entailed. Hospital isn’t an option at the moment either, and it’s going to stay that way unless it becomes absolutely necessary, because the fewer people that ask questions, the better chance we have of getting out of here quickly.

  Back at the hotel room I do as much as I can to treat her injuries, clean her face and wet her lips with water, and then put her to bed. As far as I can tell she has a fractured rib, a swollen jaw and bruises all over her body. She doesn’t look in great shape, but it doesn’t seem to be life threatening. She’s pretty spaced out in general, and it’s clear she doesn’t know where she is or who I am yet, but after the ordeal she’s just gone through, that isn’t all that unusual. Once in bed, she’s out like a light.

  I call Diego to send over a private doctor and then I call her father to report my progress.

  Naturally he’s ecstatic to hear his daughter is alive, even though I can’t give him an ETA on our arrival and I don’t want to go into too much detail about her condition.

  I watch Ruby sleep for a long time, just sat there by her side like the last five years haven’t happened, the lack of light in the room enough for me to make out her shape in the bed, but none of the injuries the last few days have brought her.

  When I’m sure enough time has passed that she won’t wake up in confused fright, I double check the security on the windows and doors, strip and take a shower.

  There is a possibility that whoever took Ruby was working with or for someone else, and the sooner we move from this location the better. I didn’t leave anyone alive at the hostage site, but I’m experienced and cautious enough to know that doesn’t necessarily mean there won’t be others who knew she was there, and as soon as they find out that now she isn’t, they could be out there coming for her. No-one knows she is here, but the owners do know
I’m here, and this isn’t exactly tourist central, nor do I fit the typical description of someone local.

  As soon as the private doctor arrives, and Ruby’s rested and patched up enough to get moving again, we’ll be on our way. It took me less than five minutes to extract her from that building, the last thing I want to be doing now is wasting time.

  I dress again, check my guns and pack my bag. Ruby’s still sleeping deeply, so I go to the window to watch the street below. The dense chaos of Mexico City pierces the horizon in the distance like the jagged teeth of a giant saw cutting through the belly of the earth, but right here at the edge of it, there is cold blue light, husks of abandoned buildings and nothing but the rank smell of putrefaction. They call this place a hotel, but that better describes what it used to be. I get the feeling that I’m the first guest in a long time, and I’ll probably be the last before this building goes the way of everything else that surrounds it.

  This neighbourhood is littered with burned out cars, boarded up shops, broken windows and scattered trash, and in here the wallpaper weeps off the walls like scalded skin and cold water drips out of the faucet like fat tears from a mechanical beast.

  A dog crosses the street stopping for a moment to scratch himself before trotting off into the darkness, and I lose myself for a long time trying to work out who Jessica might be, while I listen to the rhythmic lilt of Ruby’s breathing.

  I can’t risk Ruby’s life by trying to save her friend, but if I don’t, she might never forgive me.

  My cell phone ringing chills my blood and snaps me out of my thought cycle. It’s Carlos, the private doctor Diego has sent me. I tell him the room number and hang up. Ruby stirs. She moans at the end of a long expulsion of air, and twists her body into a different position. For a moment I think she’s about to wake up, before she moans again and falls back to sleep.

  There is a light rap of knuckles on the door and I quickly go to it, gun in hand.

  “It’s Carlos”, the voice says. “Diego sent me.”

  I open the door quickly, place the barrel of the gun at his throat and pull him into the room.

  “I’m clean”, he says calmly, as I pat him down. “I’m on your side.”

  “Thank you for coming”, I say, when I’m sure he’s who he says he is. “She’s over there in the bed.”

  Carlos takes a tentative step towards her.

  “We need to leave as soon as we can”, I say.

  “As soon as you can”, Carlos humbly agrees, and goes to inspect his patient.

  Chapter Eight

  Four years, two months and eight days ago...

  Ruby

  “Push”, the midwife tells me, the calmness in her voice doing nothing to tranquilize me.

  “You fucking push”, I yell back to her angrily, regretting every single decision that has led to this moment. I never thought the desire to return to the States would ever come to me so strongly, but right now, with this thing refusing to get the hell out of my body, I can’t think of anywhere I’d prefer to be, if only to give absolute hell to the person that put me into this situation in the first place.

  The rational part of me knows that I might be being a little unfair with that statement, but the rational part of me isn’t having a baby right now and the rest of me doesn’t give a fuck.

  “You’re doing really well”, the midwife’s assistant says to me as she rubs my back, her smile entirely inappropriate for this situation. I’ve been here for almost twenty hours, I’ve taken as many drugs as they are willing to give me, I’ve pushed as hard as I can without every single one of my internal organs coming out of my body, and this thing still refuses to come. If that’s what she means by doing really well, she’s just as delusional as that smile makes her look.

  Knowing this baby’s father, I should have expected this kind of stubborn refusal to conform, but even this makes him look like a reasonable man.

  “Please tell me this is going to be over soon”, I beg, almost at the very limit of my capacity. I consider myself a strong, independent woman, but this is the hardest challenge I’ve ever had to face. Coming to Mexico without knowing a single word of Spanish, finding a job and becoming fluent in less than six months? Easy. Having a baby? Worse than death.

  “We should try another position”, the midwife says. “Perhaps being on your knees again will help.”

  “I’ve tried every single position there is”, I say. “It took less positions to make it.”

  The pain is excruciating even with the cocktail of drugs they’ve given me, but it pales in comparison to the absolute torture of having to wait for this to be over. The pain I can deal with, the interminable boredom I can’t, especially because it seems like there isn’t going to be an end to it. I imagine myself still here in a week’s time, and then a month might pass and I’ll be national news. I’ll be the only woman in the world to gestate a baby for over a year, and then finally everyone will give up on me entirely, and the thing still won’t have come out.

  A contraction rips through my lower abdomen and I buckle over and want to vomit. I’m sweating like a husky in the desert, and despite the nine months I’ve carried it, I feel like this baby wants to do me harm.

  “Breathe”, I’m advised, and I’m in too much pain to realize who’s said it. “Breathe”, the voice says again.

  There’s a gasp of dull, agonising pain, before another contraction tears through me, and I all but expect to look down at my belly and see an alien head poking through.

  “It’s coming!” the midwife says instead, her voice shrill with excitement.

  Any more rubbing on my back and with what little energy I have, I swear I’m going to tear that assistant’s hand off. “Push”, she reminds me, as though I’ve suddenly forgotten what I’m doing here. “Push”, she insists again, as though I’ve just made up the last twenty hours.

  “I am fucking pushing”, I manage to seeth through gritted teeth, before a rush of adrenaline sweeps through my body, and half a minute later I’m on my back, the room’s spinning and I’ve got a crying bundle of warm flesh curled up on my chest.

  “Oh fuck”, I say, marvelling at it’s beauty.

  “It’s a girl”, the midwife says proudly. “Well done.”

  “A girl”, I say happily, my body aching so much I can’t tell any more what’s pleasure and what’s pain.

  “She looks like a fighter”, the assistant says, “just like her mom.”

  This time I return her smile, the anger inside me entirely evaporated. A second later I burst into tears, the overwhelming sensation of happiness way too much to bear. “I can’t believe it”, I mumble, tears flooding out of my eyes like water from a high pressured hose. “She’s perfect.”

  I never expected to be a mom this young, and never felt like the maternal type growing up, but one look at this bundle of perfection, despite the difficulty we’ve had in getting here, makes me know I’ve made the right decision.

  “Jessica”, I say, holding her up into the air. “I’m going to call her Jessica.”

  And as I lie back and let the reality of my situation sink it, I know it’s going to take a hell of a lot to make me feel happier than I do right now.

  Chapter Nine

  Present Day...

  Ruby

  “Jessica”, I shout, my skin dripping with sweat. A hand on my shoulder tries to calm me, but my natural reaction is to lash out anyway. I’m out of the bed and half way to the door, my assailant knocked onto his back, by the time the second one catches me, traps my arms against my chest and tries to calm me.

  “Ruby”, he’s saying, “calm the fuck down, it’s me.”

  That voice, that smell, those tattoos on his arms. It all comes hurtling back to me like hailstones out of a clear blue sky. It can’t be him, it just can’t be.

  I try and fight my way free, but he’s far too strong for me and all I can feel coursing through my body is searing pain.

  “Fuck, Ruby”, he says, turning me around so I can
see him. “It’s Jaxon.”

  ***

  Jaxon rubs the side of his jaw where my closed fist has made his skin red.

  “You still know how to punch”, he says, checking I haven’t broken it. “A kiss would have been more normal.”

  I ignore him. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I say, pissed that out of all of the people in the world, it had to be Jaxon to come rushing in to save me.

  “Saving your life”, he says defiantly, as though nothing else were more obvious. “It’s good to see you too.”

  I scowl at him. As much as I’d like to stay here and play catch up, I’ve got way more important things on my mind. They know where Jessica is, and I have to find her. The possibility that they may have got to her already doesn’t even bear thinking about.

  I go to the window to check where I am, while Jaxon and Carlos look at me like I’m sleepwalking through a fever dream. They’ve got the nightmare part right, but I’m about as conscious and switched on as I ever have been right now.

  “How long?” I say, while I move towards Jaxon’s bag of guns.

  “They’re all dead already”, he says, missing the point entirely.

  “How long?” I ask again, my voice raised.

  “Since they took you, eighty hours. You’ve been asleep for ten.”

  I take his gun and his knife. “You should have woken me.”

  “What are you going to do with those?” Jaxon asks.

  “Find my daughter”, I say, before I shoulder barge my way past Jaxon and head for the door.

  My face hurts like hell, and every time I breath it feels like someone is stabbing me in the chest with a hot poker. I’m almost at the end of the corridor when Jaxon catches up with me.

  “You have a daughter”, he asks, falling in step with me.

  “You better hope I still have”, I say, desperate not to lose my temper. With a ten hour start they could be absolutely anywhere.