“I’m sorry, Malika. That must have been…horrible.” What an inadequate word. The kid must think she’s some kind of monster for asking her to dredge up that moment.
Malika increased the pressure of her fingers around Raven’s hand. “My father never asked me about it.”
Raven glanced down, trying to discern the expression on Malika’s face in the dark. Maybe Raven hadn’t been crazy for wanting to talk about her brother, Jace, after he’d died. But nobody would allow her to talk about him. Instead they’d politely avoided the topic and studied Raven’s every word and expression for signs of trauma. Her parents were big on opening up…to a bevy of therapists, anyway.
A footstep fell in the hallway, and Raven’s body jerked.
Malika pressed her head against her knees, her entire frame tensing. Raven slipped her hand into her handbag and withdrew the gun. She released the safety and pointed it toward the closet door. She didn’t plan to go down without a fight. And she didn’t plan on allowing anyone to snatch this brave girl beside her.
A door opened and closed, and Malika rolled her head to the side, resting her cheek on Raven’s knee. “They are coming. They always come.”
A twist of fear spiraled up Raven’s spine and she shook it off. No time to panic. It could be the police or U.N. security or even Burumandan security forces.
Yeah, like the ones who killed Malika’s mother?
A bead of sweat rolled along her hairline. With her finger poised on the trigger of the gun, Raven braced her stockinged feet against the door. She knew the door swung outward, giving her an advantage over their stealthy attacker. She could hit him with the door first…and then the bullet if it became necessary.
Then they’d just have to chance it and run helter-skelter out of the building, throwing themselves on the mercy of the first uniformed person they encountered.
Raven coiled her muscles as the footsteps drew nearer. Target practice had nothing on real-world situations.
Another door snapped shut. Click, click. Dull clicks, not women’s high heels but a man’s dress shoes or some kind of heavy heels. Not the soft soles of a security guard or cop. Secret Service?
Her legs ached with tension, trembling with the effort to stay poised for action. Click, click. Pause. The handle of the door turned.
Raven flattened her feet against the door and coiled her thigh muscles. A slice of light appeared, and she shoved her legs forward. The door hit resistance. Raven sprang to her feet and charged out of the closet, clutching the gun in front of her.
A man in a dark suit staggered back, cursing and reaching beneath his jacket.
Raven steadied her weapon and took up a shooting stance, just like Buzz had taught her. “Don’t move or I’ll blow a hole in your gut.”
The man dropped his hands and jerked his head up. A slow smile spread across his handsome face.
“If it isn’t Raven Pierre—city girl turned…guntotin’ vigilante. And you already blew a hole in my gut, girl.”
Raven choked as she scanned the tall figure in front of her dressed in a tailored suit and…cowboy boots. Her gaze traveled back up, all six feet three inches, until she met the blue eyes, brimming with laughter, of her ex-fiancé and former weapons instructor, Buzz Richardson.
Chapter Two
Damn, his ex-fiancée looked better than ever with her black hair slightly askew, her expensive silk suit wrinkled and a Colt .45 clutched in her manicured hands.
But what the hell was she doing hiding in a closet?
“What are you doing in there? U.N. security already has the two shooters in custody, or at least one’s in custody. The other’s dead. They nailed the two guys right in the General Assembly.”
The news did nothing to unfurl the frown creasing her beautiful features. Her hand tightened on the weapon as she narrowed her dark eyes. “They didn’t nail all of them.”
His pulse ticked up several notches. “What are you talking about? You weren’t even with the Burumandan contingent.”
“I was with one part of that contingent. One very important part.” She stepped to the side and swung open the closet door behind her.
Buzz raised his brows at the girl huddled in the closet, her chin balanced on her knees. President Okeke’s daughter. He should have figured Raven’s boss had assigned her to the First Daughter. Security was going nuts looking for the girl after finding her bodyguards and the Secret Service agent conked out in the anteroom where she’d been stashed.
Still didn’t explain why Raven had been ensconced in a dark closet with the girl. Raven didn’t even like kids. He knew all about that firsthand.
Buzz smiled and waved at the girl. “How you doin’, sweetheart? Excitement’s all over. Your daddy’s A-OK.”
Her big brown eyes got bigger. She dropped her gaze to his boots and then sent a beseeching look toward Raven.
“Does she speak English?”
Raven snorted and finally lowered her weapon. “She speaks better English than you, Buzz.”
Extending a hand to the girl, she said, “It’s all right, Malika. I know this man. He’s…safe.”
Buzz cocked an eyebrow at Raven. She’d never called him safe before.
As the girl scrambled out of the closet and grabbed Raven’s hand, Buzz folded his arms and squared his shoulders. “What did you mean about not nailing all of them?”
“When Garrett and then the bodyguards lost consciousness and we saw the shooting erupt on the closed-circuit TV, I didn’t want to take any chances.” She dipped into the closet, grabbed her handbag and tucked the gun away in it. “I mean, why incapacitate Malika’s security if you’re just shooting at President Okeke?”
Buzz’s mouth went dry and he ran his tongue along his teeth. “Your time with Prospero paid off. Go on.”
“So I locked the door of the anteroom, grabbed Garrett’s gun and headed for the secret exit.”
“There’s a secret exit in the anteroom?”
She nodded, and her dark hair swept across one shoulder. “I know all the ins and outs in this building.”
“And the secret exit led you here?”
“Not before I heard two men in the anteroom desperate to find the president’s daughter.” Raven rested a hand on the girl’s shoulder.
Buzz tightened his jaw. President Okeke had been whisked away to a secure hotel room, frantic over his daughter’s disappearance. Shortly after the shooting, the CIA had gotten word that rebel forces had attacked the capital of Burumanda. And now the First Daughter was in danger.
“We need to keep her safe.” He crouched in front of the girl. “What’s your name, darlin’?”
Again, her gaze slid to Raven, who inclined her head.
“Malika.”
“A lot of people are very worried about you, Malika, including your daddy. But we’re going to take good care of you.”
The girl inched closer to Raven and clutched her hand, still resting on Malika’s shoulder. Must have been the fear that had drawn these two together. He’d never seen Raven close to a child before.
He liked it.
“What next, Buzz? Are we going to bring Malika to her father?”