Michel/Striker by Alexandra Ivy, Laura Wright

pressed a finger to her lips. “Please, don’t,” he murmured, his voice surprisingly rough. He usually took great care to maintain his polished accent. “The one thing we always had between us was honesty. Don’t ruin that.”
    She grimaced. He was right. They’d never been able to lie to one another.
    “Okay. I came with a Pantera,” she said, allowing her hand to fall to the side so he could see the gun she was holding. “They needed me to help track you.”
    He barely glanced at the weapon, a sad expression softening his too-thin face. “I assumed it would come to this.”
    She blinked, hating the sight of him looking so defeated. “Then why did you release me?”
    “Because I love you.”
    “Not as much as your master,” she reminded him, knowing that this man would never truly understand love.
    “I swore an oath.” He shrugged. “What sort of man would I be to turn my back on my pledge?”
    “He was never worthy of your loyalty, Locke,” she said.
    “Probably not.”
    She narrowed her gaze in surprise. Over the years Locke had never flinched, no matter what outrageous sacrifices Christopher had demanded. Now she sensed that Locke was no longer as blindly devoted as he’d once been.
    “He’s betrayed you, hasn’t he?” she said, her sympathy genuine.
    He grimaced, reaching toward her. “It doesn’t matter. All I care about right now is getting you out of here.”
    Chelsea stepped back, avoiding his grasp. “I’m not leaving without Michel.”
    “Michel?” Locke frowned, then abruptly dropped his hand. “Oh. You mean the Pantera.”
    She met his gaze squarely. She wasn’t ashamed of her growing connection to Michel. Hell, a part of her wanted to shout it from the rooftops.
    “Yes.”
    Pain darkened his eyes before he was giving a shake of his head.
    “You can’t stay, Chelsea,” he insisted. “It’s not safe.”
    She stiffened, recalling the sound of footsteps that had driven her into this office. “Is this a trap?”
    “It’s not me you have to worry about, Chelsea,” he assured her. “Not ever.”
    Her mouth went dry. Something was going on. Something bad.
    “Tell me what happened.”
    He hesitated, a flush of shame staining his cheeks. “Christopher has sold our research to a military contractor,” he at last admitted.
    Chelsea had already suspected the truth, but still, his confession came as a punch to the gut.
    “You promised—”
    “It’s too late,” he interrupted.
    “He’s right. It is too late,” a male voice floated across the room.
    Chelsea jerked her attention toward the open door that Locke had so recently used to enter the room. Gah. Why had she let herself be distracted by her former lover? She didn’t think he’d deliberately set her up. His expression was as horrified as her own. But still…
    She studied the large, bald male dressed in a uniform who was pointing a gun directly at her heart.
    “Slide the gun over here,” the man ordered.
    Locke moved to stand at her side. “Do it, Chelsea,” he warned in soft tones.
    Bending down, Chelsea placed the gun on the floor and slid it toward the man.
    He watched the weapon skid to a halt at his feet before he turned his attention to Locke.
    “It’s unfortunate that it’s come to this, Locke,” he said, his insincerity patently obvious.
    “It’s unfortunate that your men killed a helpless female,” Locke countered, not bothering to disguise his own disdain.
    “I’m sure it was an accident.” The man shrugged. “Now, you have something I want.”
    “Here.” Digging into the front pocket of his pants, Locke pulled out a key card and tossed it toward the intruder.
    The man muttered a curse, his round face hard with anger. “I want your computer, Locke.”
    Chelsea glanced at the man at her side. Had he hidden his computer to keep the military from getting their hands on his research?
    “I haven’t had time to bring it from my other office,” Locke said.
    “Now, Locke,” the intruder