“I can take him,” Amaryllis said loud enough for Mills to hear.
He stiffened but kept walking, not turning around.
Malichai glanced over his shoulder at her and winked. “I know you can, baby. I’ll be back in an hour or so. Looking forward to dinner. You know how I love my food.”
Amaryllis didn’t return his smile, and he was certain she wasn’t going to continue cooking the dinner for the bed-and-breakfast. She would be following John Mills to get her man back. Like Malichai, she didn’t believe for one moment that he was a cop.
“What the hell did she mean by that?” Mills demanded as he yanked open the passenger rear door to a dark SUV.
“Nice ride for a cop,” Malichai observed. “She means she could kick your ass, and she could. You should never underestimate a woman just because she is one.”
Mills shoved him into the car and slammed the door, sending one furious look toward the doorway of the bed-and-breakfast. Only Marie stood there. Amaryllis had already rushed to retrieve her car.
Malichai leaned his head back against the leather seat, ignoring Mills as he threw himself behind the wheel and pulled into traffic. Whoever these people were, whatever their ultimate goal, they weren’t a real terrorist cell, maybe a fledging one, but they were amateurs. Kidnapping him was a stupid move. They knew next to nothing about him. Mills’s face had not only been seen by the two women, but he’d allowed them to capture his image on their phones.
His gut knotted. Either that or they didn’t care. They had some other reason for not caring. What could that be? Mills carried himself very upright. Military, if Malichai had to take a stab at his background. He would not only be military but be used to giving orders or carrying them out. Something wasn’t right and Malichai just didn’t have enough pieces of the puzzle to fit them all together.
He didn’t make the mistake of looking out the back window to ensure his brother was following. He knew Ezekiel would be. He was totally confident he could take John Mills himself if he had to, but the fact that Zeke and the others remained close gave him that added coolness.
It didn’t seem to occur to Mills that he might be followed. He drove through several backstreets, moving away from the ocean toward the industrial side of town where there was a series of storage units. Mills drove in, barely stopping to put a code in to open the gate. The heavy gate swung open and then closed behind them as Mills immediately made a right turn down a long row of units. A van was parked toward the end of the row. Malichai didn’t like that. He knew the gate wouldn’t slow Ezekiel down, they would just go over it and head for the rooftops, but still, if Malichai was transferred to the van and his team wasn’t close . . .
Dark-colored van. Can’t see the license plate, Zeke. Don’t know if it’s for my body or for me.
The SUV came to an abrupt halt, nearly throwing his head into the seat in front of him. Mills leapt from the vehicle, opened the door and yanked Malichai out. Malichai caught a glimpse of the older woman from the magic shop, the one who had been so rude to him. Before he could react, Mills kicked him hard in his damaged leg. He wore heavy, steel-toed boots and he kicked hard, driving through the injuries.
Instantly, Malichai’s body reacted, so nauseated he nearly vomited as he went down hard. His head hit the asphalt, but that barely registered as Mills delivered two more vicious kicks to his leg, going for maximum impairment. He seemed to know exactly where Malichai had been shot and he used that knowledge to his advantage, kicking him again and again, clearly wanting to permanently damage his leg.
He reached down, caught Malichai under his shoulders and dragged him the few feet to the open door of the storage unit where the woman waited. There was another man with her. He looked to be about fifty and that man reached up, caught the door and slammed it down hard, closing them all inside. There was a light on, but it was fairly dim. Still, when Malichai could get beyond the nausea swirling in his gut, the bile rising in his throat and the pain hammering at his leg all the way to his hip, he could see the scars pitting the man’s face.
“Mr. Fortunes,” the man greeted. “As one soldier to another, I really am sorry we have to meet under such poor circumstances. I’m sure you can appreciate that it’s a sign of respect that we are being so careful. A man who’s sustained the kinds of wounds you have in combat is a very lethal human being.”
The man spoke very precisely. The way he spoke suggested education. Malichai guessed that he had been an officer. Yeah, it was a great sign of respect to kick the shit out of his wounded leg so he couldn’t defend himself. What an asshole. He stayed silent.
The handcuffs were somewhat loose and he worked at slipping them off without moving his shoulders. To cover what he was doing, he made a show of struggling into a sitting position. He kept an expressionless mask, but every movement of his body, as he tried to push himself so his back was to the wall of the unit, was excruciatingly painful.
His leg hurt so bad he feared Mills had those tiny fractures Amaryllis had worked on dissecting his bones all over again. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Mills had undone the miracle Rubin had worked.
“What is it you want from me, Mr. . . . ?” Deliberately he called the man “mister,” knowing if he was in charge and he’d been an officer, that would rankle.
“I’m Lieutenant Colonel Callendine. This is Major Salsberry.” He indicated the older woman. I’m afraid you’ve stumbled onto one of our missions, Mr. Fortunes. You’ve met Sergeant Mills already.” He drummed his fingers against his thigh. “I find it incredible that I can’t find anything on you other than you do in fact exist and you are in the military. Understand, my orders come all the way from the White House, so I do have resources that should have uncovered everything about you, yet so far, they’ve been unable to do so.”
Those sharp eyes moved over Malichai carefully, inspecting every inch of him. He couldn’t fail to see the very real beads of sweat trickling down his forehead or running from his neck down his chest. Malichai tried to keep his breathing even, but it seemed impossible when every breath caused pain to explode through him.
Zeke, this is some kind of military operation. Man claims he’s got orders from the White House. Who in the White House he hasn’t said, but he doesn’t know about our unit. Says his name’s Lieutenant Colonel Callendine. Woman with him is Major Salsberry. Says the gorilla who just kicked the holy shit out of my leg is named Sergeant Mills. I’ve got the cuffs off. I just need a couple of minutes to catch my breath. I want to see if I can find out what the hell they’re up to.
“If you really are who you say you are, why didn’t you just come to me, soldier to soldier, and tell me to back off? Your man there scared the shit out of the owner of the bed-and-breakfast. Both the owner and the manager have video of him trying to intimidate them. If you’re on some secret mission, why would he be dumb enough to have his face plastered all over social media? And why would you attack and injure a fellow soldier? That makes even less sense.”
Callendine turned to look at Mills, his eyebrow raised as if seeking an answer.
“The woman, Amaryllis is her name, she gave off this vibe that said she was going to make trouble. I didn’t want to hurt her, so I went for maximum intimidation. I planned on taking their phones, but Fortunes showed up.”