CHAPTER 22: [22] CAUGHT BETWEEN HER LEGS AND THE LAW

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Pierre bolted down the corridor, his boots slapping against polished floors as shouts erupted from every direction. The ensign’s voice still echoed through the halls, amplified by the base’s communication system.

"All units converge on Section C! Repeat, all units converge on Section C! The red-haired terrorist is armed and dangerous!"

Terrorist? When did I get upgraded from menace to terrorist?

Pierre skidded around a corner, nearly colliding with a maintenance cart someone had abandoned in their haste to respond to the alarm. Behind him, the thunder of Navy boots grew louder as what sounded like half the base mobilized. Voices barked orders, weapons clicked as safeties disengaged, and the systematic search pattern of trained soldiers closed in like a net.

The main corridor ahead swarmed with blue uniforms. Pierre spotted at least fifteen sailors forming a perimeter around the area where he’d left Diana and her unconscious colleagues. Lieutenant Commander Reynolds stood at the center, gesturing sharply as he deployed search teams.

Up. Only way to go is up.

Pierre spotted a stairwell marked "Authorized Personnel Only" and sprinted toward it. The metal door slammed open under his shoulder, revealing a narrow staircase that spiraled upward into the building’s upper levels. He took the steps three at a time, his enhanced agility making the climb feel effortless despite the growing chaos below.

The second floor buzzed with activity as more Navy personnel rushed toward the alarm. Pierre pressed himself against the stairwell wall as a squad of marines thundered past, their heavy boots shaking the floor. Through the small window in the stairwell door, he watched them disappear down the corridor, assault rifles at the ready.

Raven’s going to murder me. "Just grab a map," she said. "Simple infiltration," she said.

The third floor offered no sanctuary either. Voices echoed from both directions as search teams swept room by room. Pierre caught fragments of their radio chatter through the stairwell door.

"Section A clear."

"Moving to Section B."

"Suspect last seen carrying unconscious female personnel."

Great. Now I’m a kidnapper too.

Pierre continued climbing. Fourth floor, fifth floor, sixth. Each level seemed quieter than the last as the search concentrated on the lower levels where he’d been spotted. By the seventh floor, the sounds of pursuit had faded to distant echoes.

He eased open the stairwell door and peered into the corridor. This level felt different from the utilitarian lower floors. The walls were painted in warmer tones, and actual artwork hung between the doors instead of regulation Navy propaganda posters. Carpeted floors muffled his footsteps as he crept forward.

Officer quarters. Perfect. Less security, more places to hide.

Pierre tested door handles as he moved down the hall. Locked. Locked. Also locked. The Navy’s paranoia extended even to their private quarters, apparently. Behind him, the sound of boots echoed in the stairwell—distant but growing closer. Someone had finally thought to expand the search upward.

Come on, come on...

The ninth door finally turned under his hand. Pierre slipped inside and eased the door shut behind him, engaging the manual lock with a soft click. He pressed his back against the door and allowed himself a moment to catch his breath.

The room was spacious compared to the cramped quarters he’d expected. A large bay window overlooked the harbor, where he could see Navy ships anchored in neat rows. The afternoon sun streamed through gauzy curtains, casting everything in golden light. A mahogany desk sat against one wall, covered with papers and what looked like tactical maps. Bookshelves lined another wall, filled with military manuals and leather-bound volumes.

Finally. A chance to—

Pierre’s eyes adjusted to the softer lighting, and his train of thought derailed completely.

A young woman sat on the large canopy bed in the room’s center, her blonde hair cascading over bare shoulders. Her skin flushed pink from exertion, and her breathing came in short, excited gasps. One hand moved between her thighs while the other clutched a crumpled piece of paper against her chest.

Alyssa Hardy stared at him with wide blue eyes, her lips parted in shock. Neither of them moved for several heartbeats, the moment stretching like a taut wire ready to snap.

The paper in her hand was unmistakably his wanted poster.

"You..." Alyssa’s voice came out as barely a whisper. Her hand stilled between her legs, but she made no effort to cover herself. If anything, her flush deepened as her gaze traveled over his face and down his body.

Oh, I am so fucked.

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The wanted poster crinkled against Alyssa’s chest as her breathing quickened. Her green eyes locked onto Pierre’s face, drinking in every detail—the sharp jawline, those sky-blue eyes that had haunted her thoughts since their encounter at the restaurant, the way his red hair caught the afternoon light streaming through her window.

"If you try to leave..." Her voice carried a breathless quality that made the threat sound more like a promise. "I’ll scream so loud every sailor on this base will come running."

Pierre’s hand froze on the door handle. His shoulders tensed, muscles coiling beneath the stolen Navy uniform as he calculated his options. The alarm still wailed somewhere in the distance, muffled by the thick walls of the officer quarters.

Alyssa’s lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. The same smile she’d worn countless times when cornering servants or intimidating townspeople—except this felt different. Electric. Her pulse hammered against her throat as she watched him process her words.

"But you’re going to do exactly what I say, aren’t you, Red?" She shifted on the silk sheets, the movement deliberate and languid. "And I’ll protect you from all those nasty sailors hunting for you."

The moisture between her thighs increased as she spoke, her body responding to the power she held over this dangerous man who did this to her.

"Now come here like a good boy."

Pierre’s jaw tightened. His eyes darted to the window, then back to her face, weighing his chances. The sound of boots echoed in the hallway outside, growing closer.

"I can hear them searching room by room," Alyssa continued, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "But they won’t search mine. Not without permission. And I won’t give it... if you behave."

She let the wanted poster flutter to the floor, revealing more of her flushed skin.

"So what’s it going to be, Red? Are you going to be good, or should I start screaming and get that half and half girl in trouble too?"