Mission: Impossible to Protect (The Impossible Mission Romantic Suspense Series Book 6), стр. 46

Chapter Twenty-One

Lars couldn’t stop the foreboding filling his chest. He could barely swallow the pâté de foie gras. He gulped the entire glass of water to get the gelatinous lump down his throat. He had to get out of the Michelin star restaurant, and the bullshit chat with his agent. He had to get back to Danni.

He never ignored his instincts in battle. Why had he the only time the outcome was vital to his soul and his entire being? Because Danni didn’t want him to sacrifice the possibility of a film deal for her sake. And he was afraid she’d start to put up barriers to their relationship if she thought that she was a burden to him. The woman was prickly and independent. And he’d feel the same way in her situation. So he had come against his better judgement and his instincts.

Guillaume, the French chef and owner, was making his way toward their table, greeting his regulars—men and women who had the time and could afford to spend a leisurely, expensive lunch. Lars had to get out of here before he was trapped by small talk.

“I don’t think we should settle for less than fifteen billion.”

Lars nodded at Steve Fontaine, then checked his messages on his phone again.

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying.” Steve had become more than an agent. The super-savvy businessman had become a friend. But Lars couldn’t share the reasons for his distraction. And if Steve had a hint of what was happening with Danni, he’d want Lars to turn Danni’s misfortune into a novel.

“I’m sorry. This was a mistake.” Lars stood and threw down his napkin. “We’ll have to reschedule.”

“You’re joking. Do you have any idea what went into getting this meeting? The amount of time I spent…”

Lars glanced up and saw Dylan hurrying straight to the table, shaking his head with a grim look on his face.

Lars shoved his chair back and raced toward him, ignoring the stares from the diners.

“The car is out front.” Dylan was already rushing back to the front door.

Lars ran behind Dylan, ignoring the gasps from the diners when he shoved a waiter out of his way.

The adrenaline mainlining his body was primed for action. His body was focused and ready, but…his mind was careening out of control.

Dylan shoved the restaurant door open. “…Bad…”

For Dylan, a hardened Raider, to stumble on the words made Lars’s heart feel like it was being torn out of his chest.

“Sit rep. Now. Don’t spare me.”

“Danni’s been kidnapped.”

Lars knew before Dylan got the words out, but he still held on to a glimmer of hope that his screaming gut was off.

“Sten took a hit. GSW to his chest. He’s on this way to the hospital. They had to resuscitate him when they found him. And they are not sure…”

Lars stumbled, having to grab the bus stop pole to keep himself upright and not fall down on the street. He bent over and spewed the rich and heavy pâté on the street curb.

Dylan, who was opening the driver’s door, halted. Whatever look Lars gave him stopped him from speaking.

Lars wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his $3,000 suit and climbed into the car. His training kicked in to keep him moving and not turn into a sniveling mass of emotions. Danni had been taken. And Sten…

Lars hit the button to open the window, the need to hurl rushing back as the acid crawled up his throat. He couldn’t stop the images racing through his brain. Sten bleeding out… Danni in the hands of Miro.

He had to keep it together for both Danni’s and Sten’s sakes. He had to compartmentalize. Lucky for him that Uncle Sam trained him to focus and deny that his heart and soul were splintering. He couldn’t live without either of them.

Compartmentalize. Gather the needed information. Devise a plan. And then, kill Miro…

Dylan shot into traffic, ignoring the blast of horns. He accelerated, creating space where there was none.

“We don’t know much yet.” Evading a tour bus, Dylan looked back at Lars. “The FBI and DEA are on their way to the spa. There was no sign of a struggle. We’re assuming that Danni was drugged because Izzy was found unconscious. The medics are with her now; she’s coming out of it.”

“Any witnesses? Do we have anything on the spa personnel?”

Dylan hesitated, raising the hairs on Lar’s neck.

“Luna Star, Danni’s massage therapist, was found unconscious and bleeding, pistol-whipped. Izzy’s massage therapist is the only legit person. The receptionist has vanished.”

Fury exploded. Red spots darted before him.

“How the fuck did we miss that Luna works for the cartel?” Lars was the fricking idiot who’d arranged Luna’s contact with Danni. He had played right into their hands.

“I’m not sure we missed anything. I think she was a pawn used by the cartel. But Grayson’s on it.”

“I need to talk to that fucking bitch.”

“You don’t want to talk; you want to tear her apart. But that won’t help anything. Grayson will get everything from her. He never acknowledges it, but we all know he works for an alphabet agency that is very skilled in extracting information. And he already was accepted by the DEA and the FBI to be part of their investigation. You’ve got to let your team—”

“Bullshit. I’ve got to do this. I’ve got to sit in on the interview. My God, this is Danni, my woman, we’re talking about in the hands of a cartel hitman.”

“Right now, you need to be at the hospital for Sten…to make medical decisions.”

Fear roiled in his gut like the greasy pâté de foie gras.

“Nick and Emily are on their way. Your Uncle Harry is bringing your mom to New York.”

Lars thought he might barf again. His twin… For a stupid film deal. Like that meant a fucking thing if he lost… He couldn’t lose Sten. He couldn’t lose Danni.

“Nick has already contacted USSOCOM to get Finn home. He’s trying channels to find Parker, but I just realized that Grayson might