Hot Protector(78)
And he had to figure out how to make it work. But first he had to get her back. He refused to think about what he’d do if he didn’t get her back. If it was too late.
His throat ached and his vision blurred as he stared at the stage. As he waited for Androv to walk to the podium and spew his garbage.
The man finally went over and stood, looking out at the crowd like they owed him something. He spread his arms, jerking them skyward to make the cheers go higher. People obliged, yelling louder the longer he did it.
And then he turned his hands palms down and they quieted. He launched into a speech about the future, about networks the world over being joined together, about vulnerabilities and the need to prepare for disaster. To avert disaster.
Zoprava could do that, of course. Zoprava was working on the technology to protect the world’s networks. Zoprava and Grigori Androv were concerned about the world. They had just donated twenty million dollars to refugee relief in the Middle East. They were cutting-edge, caring.
“You believe this guy?” Kid said into their ears. “Holy fuck.”
“He’s like a supervillain in a comic book,” someone else said. One of the SEALs. Cody McCormick, maybe. Or Remy Marchand.
Chase liked those guys. Liked them a lot. But right now all he could think of was Sophie. He studied Androv. The man had never touched her according to Sophie. Never tried to fuck her. Impotent or gay—or so fucking narcissistic he wasn’t interested in anyone but himself.
Though Chase had never found that to be the case. Most men—especially the unbearably egomaniacal ones—liked fucking something, whether it was male or female.
Still, if this guy hadn’t wanted Sophie, then he was stupid. But thank God he hadn’t, because that meant he’d never had his filthy hands on her. Never tasted her sweetness. Never known the bliss of coming hard with Sophie underneath him, taking him in and making him feel like he was on top of the world.
Androv wrapped up his speech, sucked up the applause, pointed everyone to the Zoprava booth, and then worked his way through the crowd, shaking hands and smiling.
One of the SEALs was in that lineup, waiting to shake hands and place a small radio transmitter on Androv’s jacket as he did so. Chase watched, saw the moment the SEAL—Zack Anderson—took Androv’s hand and said something while gripping his elbow with the other. Then he smiled and stepped back while Androv continued on down the line.
“Got him,” Viking said. “Let’s roll.”
ANDROV’S LIMOUSINE took him to the Ritz on 22nd Street, but he didn’t go inside. Chase and Alpha Squad rolled up across the street, their Suburban idling as they watched. The SEALs had traveled separately, but they were also there, ready to rocket into action. Everyone watched as Androv’s car pulled up. Two women emerged from the hotel. One was tall and thin, the other not so tall. The shorter woman was veiled, and she stumbled as if she’d had a little too much to drink.
She was wearing a long coat that covered her entire body and high heels. Her legs, what they could see, were bare. She stumbled, and the coat flopped open. She was almost naked and stacked like a brick shithouse—
“Sophie!” Chase yelled, reaching for the door and tugging on the handle. He was out of the Suburban in two seconds flat, running for the portico of the Ritz. It was a distance away, but he could make it. He had to make it.
“Jesus, Fiddler, you’re gonna compromise the op!”
He didn’t know whose voice it was, didn’t care. He kept running—and then the tall woman shoved Sophie in the car and got in behind her. It accelerated away from the curb.
He kept running, but the limo was fast disappearing. The Suburban rocketed up beside him and the door flew open.
“Get the fuck in here,” Matt Girard ordered. “Now!”
Chase leapt inside and yanked the door closed as Hawk floored the SUV.
“Jesus, what the fuck?” Viking yelled into the mic. “Are you assholes insane?”
“Yes,” Hawk growled. “Now help us catch that motherfucker.”
Viking swore. “We’re on it. But no more cowboy heroics, all right? Thought you fuckers knew better.”
“If that was Ivy in there,” Iceman grated suddenly, “would you be calm?”
The airwaves were silent for a long moment. “No. Fuck no.”
“Thought so. That’s Chase’s woman in there, and we’ve got to get her before Androv hurts her.”
Chase started to protest the first part of that statement, started to automatically deny what Ice had just said about Sophie being his woman. But, fuck, what was the point? He looked at the guys. The ones who could take their eyes off the road were looking back at him.