Free Russian Enforcer's Royal Engagement (Russian Enforcers Book 7) by Nic Saint Page A

some noxious gas. It knocked you out cold.” Jack shook his head. “Thank God it wasn’t a bullet.”
    “Seems kinda weird that a terrorist would use gas,” muttered Rob.
    Diana gingerly rose and checked around. They were in a cavernous underground space, more a bunker than a ballroom. Then she remembered. She was in the command room. She stared at a man sitting on the floor nearby. He was holding his head in his hands. She vaguely remembered having seen him.
    Jack followed her gaze. “Armand. Our security man. They knocked him out with the same concoction they used on you. He’s just now coming to.”
    “Where are the terrorists?” she asked.
    He grimaced. “They left the moment they got their hands on the money.”
    She remembered she’d granted them access to her bank account. “So they got what they came here for.”
    Jack pulled her close. “God, I thought you were dead,” he grunted.
    The warmth of his embrace did much to dispel the nausea and confusion. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again as a sudden fear assaulted her. She jerked back, staring at him imploringly. “The others…are they all right?”
    “They’re all fine,” he rumbled. “They haven’t harmed a single person.”
    This was all so weird, she decided. Terrorists invading a castle, then harming no one and managing to get away scot-free.
    “The most important thing is that you’re safe, Diana,” he stressed, clasping her in his arms. Automatically she raised her lips to his and reveled in the heat of his kiss, drowning out all the horrors and fears of the past few hours. Whatever had happened, it had brought her at least this one gift: Jack.

CHAPTER 17

    Jack could have kicked himself for letting any harm come to Diana. He’d sworn to protect her and instead he’d allowed that asshole to put a gun to her head and pull the trigger. He’d lunged at the man in a last ditch attempt to knock the gun from his hand, but the sickening sound of a click had told him he was too late.
    He’d plowed into the terrorist head first and had managed to take him down, but when he looked back, desperate, he’d seen Diana prostrate on the floor and the sight had knocked him for a loop. He’d immediately moved to her and cradled her in his lap. It had taken him a few moments to realize what was wrong with the picture: no blood. No head wound. Nothing. Only the vague scent of some gaseous substance released in the air.
    Behind him the terrorist had scrambled to his feet, but he hadn’t paid attention, all his focus on the woman cradled in his lap.
    Vaguely he sensed the man standing over him, looking down. If at that moment the madman had wanted to take him out he would have had a clean shot.  
    But then retreating footsteps had sounded and then suddenly silence reigned.
    Now that Diana was safe, his mind was finally free to focus on catching the bastards who did this to her.
    Not letting Diana out of his sight, he moved over to Armand, who sat staring before him, dazed and confused. When he caught sight of Jack, he smiled feebly.
    “Jack! What happened?”
    “My question exactly,” Jack grunted in reply, checking the man for any signs of physical duress. He found none. “You’ve been knocked out with some type of gas,” he told the old security veteran. “What is the last thing you remember?”
    Armand frowned, trying to collect his faculties, then shook his gray head. “I—there was some commotion at the elevator. When I went over to see what was going on…” His eyes widened in shock and he looked up sharply. “We’re under attack!” he urged. “Some men in black…they barged in here…” He frowned, confusion clouding his mind. “But how? How did they get past the security lock?”
    “They had a key,” Jack told him.
    “But that’s impossible,” exclaimed Armand. “Those keys can’t be duplicated.” Tremulously, he asked, “What happened? The king…” He brought a distressed hand to his face. “Oh, my