Maximum Risk: Wolff Securities, #1

By Jennifer Lowery

It should have been a simple rescue mission...

Retired Pararescueman, Quinn Wolff, wrote the book on how to stay alive during a mission when he founded Wolff Securities, an elite private sector security firm. When he fast-ropes down to save missing humanitarian aid worker, Avery Marks, in the remote mountains of Azbakastan he isn't prepared for the brave, stubborn woman who challenges the rules he wrote in order to protect her.

 

But when it comes to matters of the heart nothing is simple...

Avery Marks leaned a long time ago to take care of herself, but when her convoy is attacked, her friends and coworkers murdered, she has to rely on the aid of intensely capable and handsome, Quinn Wolff to get her safely out of the country. His skills keep her alive, but his kisses put her in danger. In danger of losing her heart. That's a risk she can't ever take again.

 

Content Warning: Sexual Content

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jennifer Lowery
• Release date: Aug 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781501411717

Book preview

1

Mohira Valley, Azbakastan

She ran for her life.

Avery Marks forced her wobbly legs to carry her away from the road. Sharp rocks cut into her bare feet. Her foot slipped on loose gravel and she stumbled to her knees, scraping them through the fabric of her cargo pants. Men shouted behind her.

Too close.

She pushed to her feet and started running again. The terrain changed, sloped downward, and she sprinted harder toward the Ibi River. It would lead her to civilization.

A bullet zinged over her head. She ducked, crying out.

Scrub brush tore at her legs. Avery bit down on her lip as she hurried down the mountain. Determination beat out the dots swimming in front of her eyes and the ringing in her ears. The roar of the river in the distance pulled her.

More bullets rained around her. Men shouted in Azebek for her to stop. She pressed harder, forced her heavy limbs to move faster, go further.

The sound of rushing water drew her to a steep, rocky cliff. She skidded to an abrupt halt, sending loose pebbles sailing over the edge. Water fell over an outcrop of slippery rock to a pool below. Large boulders made up the rock face on both sides. Shrubs interspersed them, but she couldn’t trust them to hold her weight.

Could she climb down without slipping and falling? It was a long way to the bottom.

What choice did she have?

A bullet zinged past her head. Avery dropped to a crouch and began to descend on all fours.

The noise of the water drowned out the voices of the men chasing her. Her heart slammed against her ribcage. Hot midday sun beat down on her, but fear chilled her. Her fingers scraped rock as she scurried.

Water sprayed her in the face as she scrambled downward. Relief surged when she reached the bottom ledge. It quickly evaporated when she looked over the edge of the rocky outcrop.

She turned a slow circle. Nothing but rocky interfaces everywhere she looked. A rock wall prison with only one way out. To go up the same way she came. Or jump. From above, water pooled on the ledge and continued to fall into the river.

Far, far below.

Trapped.

A pebble bounced off her head. Men descended the cliff, guns strapped to their backs. Within minutes they would reach her.

Resigned, she watched them land on the ledge one by one, weapons trained on her, black eyes daring her to make a move. Sweat ran down their dark-skinned faces and the stench of them took her back to the hellhole they’d kept her in.

They thought they had her. That they would take her back.

She wasn’t going back.

Her heels touched the edge of the rock. They shouted at her, waving their guns in the opposite direction, away from the edge. For the first time since they’d kidnapped her she wasn’t afraid. They would never take her again. She wouldn’t let them.

Avery spread her arms wide, looked up to see a man standing on the boulder above. His eyes bored into her, dark with hate. The leader. She knew him. Would always know him in her nightmares. He thought he had control over her. Believed he had beaten her down so she couldn’t fight him.

He was wrong.

Death would be her decision. Not his.

Avery lifted her face to the warm sun, closed her eyes, and stepped backward off the ledge.

From his perch in the open door of a Pave Hawk chopper, Retired PJ Senior Airman Quinn Wolff watched through high-powered binoculars as a small army of insurgents forced a woman off a sixty-foot ledge.

He caught a flash of red hair just before she plunged into the Ibi River.

With a curse he threw the binocs aside and grabbed his gloves. He jammed his hands into them. Get me down there, Savat, he hollered to the pilot through his headset. Quinn seized the rope and rose to a crouch. That was her, he told his two brothers who sat across from him.

Kell rose, bent at the waist to accommodate his six-foot-two height. One hand braced on the wall to keep from losing balance. She’s in the river. We’re going to be recovering a body.

The chopper banked a hard right. Quinn fixed a hand on the doorframe to avoid being tossed out. Dead or alive, he would pull her out of that river.

A bullet whistled beneath the chopper. Quinn’s gaze shot to the ridge where a handful of armed men aimed for them. Smart bastards had climbed higher while the others went low.

No way in hell I can land in these mountains and those bullets are getting damn close. Savat’s voice broke through the headset. Can’t hover for long, either. Running on fumes here.

Quinn’s fault. They’d spent the last two days combing these mountains in search of American humanitarian aid worker, Avery Marks. He had refused to quit today, his gut telling him she was close. Damn if he hadn’t been right, but now there were complications because of his stubbornness.

Ryan jumped behind the 50-caliber machine gun mounted outside the door. On it, he shouted, returning fire.

Get your ass in gear, Quinn. Coming around now.

The chopper made another sharp turn. Quinn fetched his rucksack and medical pack and hooked them to the bottom of the fifty-foot rope. Savat brought the aircraft to a hover downriver from where the woman went in. The army chasing her scrambled down the mountain. No problem as long as they didn’t have a SAM—Surface to Air Missile. That would complicate things.

He tossed the bags out. The weight straightened the rope, making for a lighter descent. Wind whipped his back as he leaned out the door and braced his feet on the edge, his weight balanced on the line held with one hand in front of him and one behind.

Kell shrugged into his ruck, shot him an irritated glance. Damn it, Quinn. Hold up.

Quinn didn’t need him on the ground. He needed him on the chopper holding off the army while he rescued the aid worker. He was a pararescueman. Saving people was what he did.

Cover me. He dropped out of sight before waiting for Kell to get into position.

Avery crawled out of the water, dragging herself across sharp rocks. They cut into her palms and left tiny ribbons of blood on the rocks. It took every ounce of strength she possessed to force her leaden limbs to carry her.

She’d survived the fall.

Nausea rose in her throat and she gagged. Water heaved from her stomach until she couldn’t breathe. Afterward, she collapsed and rolled onto her back, eyes closed. Her captor would be searching for her body. And wouldn’t it piss him off if he’d found her dead? The Azbak people honored death. Her imprisoner refused to grant it to her, instead condemning her to a fate worse than death. All because she’d delivered books to the wrong village and taught the wrong girls to read. His girls.

Too tired to think about it, Avery gave herself two minutes. Then she’d move. Find somewhere to hole up. Right now she needed to catch her breath.

Something roared in her ears. Not the river. Above her.

She pried her eyelids open. A man descended from the sky. She watched him sail towards the ground. Big, strong, formidable. A hallucination? The river ran between two mountains and even in the summer the temperature didn’t rise above forty degrees. Hypothermia must be affecting her vision.

A shudder worked through her body. She was too worn-out to decide if he was a dream. But, she couldn’t stay here. Had to run. Keep going.

Don’t get caught.

The words of her friend and associate, Scott Travers, echoed through her head. Followed by images of a bullet hitting him as he tried to drive the SUV with her and Macy to safety while terrorists shot at them.

Mercilessly, Avery pushed those thoughts away. Spurred into action as the figure sailed closer to the ground, she rolled over and began to crawl. Seconds later, she collapsed on the rocks, her body numb. Vision narrow, world spinning, she tried to fight the darkness overtaking her and prayed he wasn’t one of the men who’d kidnapped her.

A pair of combat boots entered her line of sight.

No, she whispered, but no amount of will could make her body move.

The man’s boots kicked up pebbles close to her. Ironic. She’d survived the fall into the river only to be captured when she saved herself.

She’d never expected to make it out of the river.

Certainly never thought a man would fall from the sky to get to her.

An avenging angel. She smirked as her lids drifted closed.

Quinn dropped to his knees next to the woman’s still form. He pressed two fingers to her neck, relieved to find a pulse. Slow and irregular, but there. In the distance he heard the shouts of the small army that had forced her over the edge of the cliff. They didn’t have much time.

Are you real? Raw and raspy, her voice drew his attention. Dove-gray eyes ringed with silver met his. A frown marred her forehead.

Yes, he answered. Avery Marks?

Her frown intensified. How do you know my name? Those intriguing eyes widened in fear and she struggled to sit up. You’re American. You can’t be—are you one of them?

He put a hand on her shoulder to settle her, noticing bruises marring her neck. My name is Quinn Wolff. I’m with Wolff Securities, here to rescue you.

She went still, but mistrust narrowed her eyes. How did you find me?

A phone call to his brother, Kell, by a CIA agent all of them had hoped had been out of their lives for good. But Shea Morrissey never stayed gone for long. Four years this time. And when she contacted his brother in the middle of the night they’d ended up here.

Avery’s hand gripped the front of his shirt. Surprisingly strong, given her weakened state. My team? Macy?

Quinn replaced her hand by her side. I need to triage your injuries.

Don’t do that. Tell me what you know. She coughed up more water.

He turned her head so she didn’t choke.

When she collapsed against his leg she managed, Tell me what you know about my friends.

Stubborn woman. He had watched the footage of Avery’s attack on the trip over, saw the burned vehicles. One on the road, the other down the mountain. Both were charred down to the frame. Remains had been recovered from six bodies. Gender had yet to be determined. The fact they included Avery in the reports only made him suspicious. Why were they faking her death?

I’m sorry, Avery.

Her head lifted and those gorgeous eyes met his. All of them?

Yes—

A bullet flew over their heads and cut him off. He threw his body over Avery, shielding her head with his arms.

They found me. Her muffled voice came through his shirt.

We have to move. Come on, I’ll carry you. He’d noticed she wore no shoes.

No. Her denial was adamant. I can run. I’ll tell you when I need your help.

Against his better judgment, Quinn pulled her to her feet, grabbed her hand and took off at a dead run for the trees lining the river. They were sparse and didn’t provide much cover, but it beat being in the open.

He avoided the narrow footpath, too easy to be followed. She stayed close behind, keeping up, although he heard her heavy breathing. He was conditioned for all climates and elevations, but he couldn’t risk slowing the pace so he gripped her hand tighter and dragged her along.

Keeping to the trees and rocky outcrops where they couldn’t easily be tracked, Quinn hauled Avery up the mountain. The soldiers would expect them to head for populated areas, which was why they would lay low. The safest thing for them right now would be to escape and evade. Something he was damn good at.

He climbed a steep incline, pebbles breaking loose beneath his boots. The sun began to set behind the mountain peaks rising around them. Quinn kept below the radar, using the scrub trees and large, jutting rocks for cover. When Avery’s weight began to pull more on his hand, he slowed to survey the area around them and give her a chance to recover.

Are they close? Avery gasped.

Not anymore. There’s a patch of juniper trees half a klick east where we can make shelter. Can you make it?

Shouldn’t we keep going? They might find us if we stop.

Night maneuvers were ideal for escape and evasion, but he only had one pair of night vision goggles. Given Avery’s labored breathing, he decided they should hunker down for the night while the chopper refueled. The nearest refueling station was where they’d picked up the chopper and that would take hours given the surreptitious location.

Quinn shook his head and grabbed her hand again. Not where I’m going to hide us.

The sun disappeared behind the mountain peak as they reached the juniper trees. Though it wasn’t far, he felt her tug on his hand. Adrenaline had probably worn off by now, leaving her exhausted.

He led her to a fallen tree, which sat between two healthy ones. Sit here.

I can help.

Gently, with a hand on her slender shoulder, he pushed her down on the log. I can manage.

But—

He cut her off. I have it handled. His tone left no room to argue and she didn’t. She gave him a small nod and he set to building a secure campsite. He dropped his rucksack on the ground, found his small shovel, and began digging a hole.

When it was armpit deep, he rose to his feet. It was nearly dark, but he could still see the tension on Avery’s face. She sat with her arms folded across her middle, watching him.

Okay? he asked and she nodded. Quickly, he gathered branches and sticks and dropped them in the hole, then dug matches out of his rucksack, lit one, and dropped it in. The dried twigs immediately caught fire.

Oh my God! What are you doing?

He looked up in time to see Avery lunge to her feet, terror written on her face. She took a step, cried out, and crumpled to the ground.

Quinn moved fast, barely catching her before she hit. He swept her up in his arms.

Avery pounded her fists against his chest and struggled against his hold. No. We have to put the fire out! They’ll see it.

Avery. Stop. Listen to me. He tightened his hold, forcing her to be still. I built the fire pit underground so the smoke will go up into the branches and dissipate. No one will see it because there’s nothing to see.

Her eyes lifted to meet his. Underground?

He nodded. Completely safe. Look.

She followed his gaze then wilted against him, her head falling on his chest. Thank God.

He dropped down on the log and settled her on his lap, his gaze dropping to her bloody feet. Anger flashed through him.

Her body trembled against his. He needed to move fast. Get her warm and into clean clothes. The river had washed away most of the blood from her clothes, but some still remained. Wait here. He set her down on the log and moved to his rucksack. After hunting through it he strode back to where Avery sat, and held out his spare cammies and a pair of socks. Change into these.

She looked at the camouflage pants and t-shirt. I’m fine.

Your shirt is torn. How about changing that?

She glanced down, her shoulders falling when she saw the bloody tear in the shirt. All right. Where can I change?

He turned his back to her. Right here.

Seconds later he heard clothing rustle.

Finished, she said.

Avery stood a few feet away, his shirt hanging on her slender frame. Damn if she didn’t look delicate and frail beneath the olive green fabric. Pretty. Feminine. Vulnerable.

Protective instincts kicked in, along with a healthy surge of attraction he quickly tramped down. Not the time or place.

His gaze dropped to her feet, covered in dirt and blood. Why the hell did she say she could run without shoes?

Sit. He grabbed his canteen off his rucksack and returned to kneel in front of her. With her feet in his lap he tore off a strip of his shirt so he could wet it. With care, he cleansed the blood and dirt, aware of her eyes on him, and the way she bit her lip every time he touched her.

What happened to your shoes, Avery? he asked quietly, hoping his suspicions were wrong. Bad guys usually took away your shoes upon capture so you couldn’t run away. Westerners didn't usually run around barefoot, so their feet were sensitive, making it an effective tool. He prayed she’d lost her shoes in the river, because the alternative was unthinkable.

She pulled her feet away. Nothing.

He returned them to his lap. You didn’t lose them in the river, did you? His gut told him the men who’d forced her off that ledge were responsible for her injured soles, and it made his stomach clench.

Her lack of response was answer enough. Quinn let out a low curse and reached for his First Aid kit. Tenderly, he put salve on the wounds and wrapped both feet, while keeping his thoughts from straying to what had happened to Avery before he found her. Getting her out of here alive was first priority. Killing every last one of the bastards who might have hurt her wasn’t an option. At least not until she was safe. Then he’d make them pay for harming her, because his gut told him that’s exactly what they had done.

Hand me those socks.

She passed them to him and he slipped them over the bandages. They would keep her feet warm, dry and protected for now.

Stay here while I make a hidesite.

He disposed of the bloody rag and supplies before gathering sticks and fallen branches. Behind him he heard the snap of a branch.

With a low curse, he lunged for Avery.

2

One minute Avery helped gather branches and the next she laid face down on the ground with Quinn on top of her. Stunned, she tried to turn her head.

Stay still. Quinn’s lips brushed her earlobe, sending a ripple of sensation throughout her body.

Every muscle in his body was taut, alert, and raised her awareness. Not only to the feel of his muscular frame, but to the danger.

What is it? she whispered.

When I tell you to stay put, I mean it.

His voice was barely audible, but no less forceful. Avery bristled as he continued to speak.

That branch you broke may have given away our position.

Dread tightened her throat. She wanted to help, not be the cause of danger. Sitting idle wasn’t something she did well. Especially now, since her thoughts were apt to drift to places she didn’t want to go. Like the past three days.

A shudder worked through her. Her room had had a small window in it. Too tiny to escape, but it allowed her to count the days and nights of her captivity. And, truth be told, it lent a slice of comfort. Something to remind her there was a world outside those four walls and that she wasn’t alone.

Angry with herself, she nodded. How could she do something so stupid? Quinn hadn’t been breaking branches off trees; he’d been picking them up off the ground. She’d put them in danger because she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts.

Relax. I can handle anything that comes our way.

Quinn’s soft command brought her out of her thoughts. She didn’t want him to handle what came their way. Didn’t want it to come at all. What she wanted was to go to her hotel in Furkat, shower, sleep for twenty-four hours straight, and deliver the next shipment of books to the girls in Bil. The girls needed those books and she needed to deliver them. She’d made a promise a long time ago to a little girl named Dembe. Only death would make her stop delivering on her promise.

She didn’t need the inky darkness, the looming silhouettes of rocks, trees, and the mountain peak. And she certainly didn’t need Quinn’s hard, warm body pressed against hers. The sensual way his peppermint breath fanned her cheek. The faint scent of sandalwood clinging to his skin or the way his hand splayed along her ribcage, his fingers just grazing her breast. How his chest rose and fell steadily against her back.

Her heart started to race for another reason entirely. An entirely inappropriate reason for a woman who’d just broken off her engagement with her fiancé.

How long do we have to stay like this? she asked.

Thirty minutes to be safe. Am I hurting you?

Avery swallowed past her dry throat. No.

Silence stretched between them. She searched the dark for anything that moved. Every noise made her cringe and break out in a cold sweat.

Relax.

Quinn’s voice in her ear made her jump. Relaxing was not an option with him pressed so intimately against her and the possibility of bad guys showing up at any minute.

He shifted so she could rest her cheek on his forearm, bringing her in closer to his chest where she could hear his heart beating strong and steady. The warmth of his body seeped into hers and her eyes began to droop, despite her anxiety.

Avery. Wake up.

Avery opened her eyes with a start to find Quinn crouched in front of her. She lifted her head. Is it safe to move?

Yes. But, you’re not going to.

Before she could stop him, he scooped her up off the ground and strode to the log she’d sat on earlier, to deposit her gently.

I’m not helpless, she grumbled, even though her feet ached along with the rest of her body. Adrenaline had blocked the pain earlier, but it came on full force now.

I’m well aware of that. Humor me, and this time stay put until I’m finished.

He moved away until all she could see was his silhouette in the darkness as he gathered branches and stacked them a short distance away. Minutes later he returned, lifted her into his arms and carried her to the shelter he’d made. If her head hadn’t been swimming she would have demanded he stop treating her like a child. She could walk on her own two feet, no matter how much it hurt.

The shelter barely held both of them, but was completely hidden. Impressed, she scooted to the corner, sitting with her head ducked as he slid inside with her. Quinn pulled items out of a green bag—one of two he carried—using a penlight held between his teeth. He sat with his