Delta Force: Cannon: Wayward Souls

by Norris, Kris

  “That’s very intuitive. I’m impressed. Is that how you caught him the first time?”

  Her smile faded. As if that light inside her had just burned out. “I’d tracked his ass to three different bars on three separate nights, just like this one. But he always managed to slip away before we could arrest him. I swore someone tipped him off. Then, Dave got a call from one of his informants. Said they’d seen Brown at this club downtown, which was odd. It was too obvious. But Dave insisted, and Brown practically fell into our hands.”

  “I’ll trust your instincts over luck, any day. We’ll give it until one. If he’s not here by then, we’ll head home. Try somewhere else, tomorrow. Or we can come back here, if you want.”

  She nodded. Though she didn’t show it, Cannon sensed her tension. But not at being in the bar. Or having to face Brown. It was failure that had her on edge. She knew Cannon hated the idea of putting her safety at risk, and she probably felt as if she had to prove herself to him.

  She didn’t. Whether Brown made an appearance or not wouldn’t change the pride filling Cannon’s chest. Jericho was tough, and strong, and incredibly shrewd. He wouldn’t have chosen a bar like this. The men he’d hunted had been more animal than human. Always relying on their instincts. When shit went sideways, their decisions had been predictable. It might have taken Cannon a few attempts to unearth their location, but it had never been a surprise. Going this far outside the norm…

  He’d have to alter his way of thinking. Adapt to this new kind of urban predator. Just another reason to keep Jericho close. She challenged him. Made him a better warrior. A better man. Of course, once Brown showed… That’s when Cannon would be in his element. Eliminating the threat. It didn’t matter, then, that Brown’s thought processes were slightly skewed to what Cannon was accustomed to. There wasn’t a fight he couldn’t handle. A combat scenario he couldn’t adapt to. And that’s what this was. War.

  He shifted slightly closer to Jericho, resisting the urge to hold her hand or lay his arm along the back of her seat—brush her shoulder. Give her a physical show of his support. Instead, he maintained his vigilance, studying every face that entered the pub. A couple of guys piqued his interest, their gazes lingering a bit too long on Jericho. He watched the way they moved, noting the bulges beneath their armpits. The occasional bead of sweat across their foreheads.

  Nervous and packing. Definitely threats.

  Cannon glanced over toward the far end of the counter, grinning when Rigs stepped out of the shadows. He winked—the bastard—then headed for where the men were leaning against the bar. Rigs stopped a couple of chairs over, ordering a beer as he kept an eye on the newcomers. The men glanced Rigs’ way, visibly winced, then looked away.

  Rigs had claimed his scars made him invisible in a weird sort of way, and damn if he hadn’t been right. People were quick to pretend he wasn’t there, and that would be their mistake.

  Damn. Cannon would have to see if he could lure the other men back—have them stay in Seattle and work for him. He could really use the extra help, and having men he trusted was invaluable. Guys like Colt. And his buddy Six—who was getting into town in the morning. Ready to jump in and do whatever was necessary without even knowing the risks. He’d told Cannon that. Which hadn’t surprised Cannon in the least. These were men he could trust without question. Men he’d die for.

  He glanced at Colt. He knew his buddy had already identified the new threat. Colt had tapped the table three times then moved his chair in order to block more of Jericho from the men’s sight line. Colt hadn’t been obvious about it. Had looked as if he was angling his seat better to talk to them. But the end result was the same.

  Shit. Cannon really hoped he didn’t get any of his teammates shot. Or worse. Knowing they’d give their lives for him—for the woman he loved, even if he hadn’t said it out loud, yet—was one thing. Having them actually have to step in front of a bullet…

  He’d hoped he’d left that kind of sacrifice behind. Just his dumb luck that civilian life wasn’t any safer than his life in the Teams. Not that he should have expected anything different with the line of work he’d chosen to pursue. But like it or not, a part of him thrived on the thrill of the hunt. On putting his life at risk. Wouldn’t have been a very good soldier if he wasn’t hard-wired that way. No sense questioning it, now. Of course, falling for a woman who was just like him…not his wisest choice. Not if he had any hope of maintaining his sanity.

  Jericho nudged his arm, arching a brow when he focused on her. “You’ve obviously noticed the two men at the bar, seeing as Rigs popped into view. I was thinking that maybe, now, would be a good time to visit the ladies’ room. See if they follow. Pretty sure you and Rigs could have them both unconscious inside of five seconds, if they do.”

  Cannon chuckled. “You’re encouraging me to fight? Are you sure you don’t still have a concussion?”

  “It won’t be a fight.” She stood. “Give me a minute or two lead.”

  Cannon shook his head, watching her walk across the room then down the hallway. More than a few of the men tracked her progression, though most were likely just drawn to the sexy sway of her hips. Christ, the woman was sin in denim, and she didn’t even seem to notice.

  He waited a minute then stood, acknowledging Colt with a curt nod before trailing behind Jericho. He made his way to the bar, first, ordering another round to be sent to their table. The bartender grumbled something as he took Cannon’s money, not wasting any time standing there. Cannon glanced at Rigs then headed for the hallway to the bathroom before stepping into a shadowed doorway. If the men were going to make a move, it would be when she was on her way back.

  Music from the band echoed down the corridor, every beat from the drum vibrating through the floor. He waited, wondering if he’d read the situation wrong, when footsteps headed his way. Two. Heavy. They stopped then started, again, as if they were checking behind them.

  Cannon remained hidden until they were just off to his right before stepping out. A quick scan, and he confirmed it was the men from the bar. They each had a hand beneath their armpit, attention centered on the ladies’ room door. They were mid-step when Cannon moved out, both men tripping sideways in order to avoid colliding with him. He didn’t waste the distraction, grabbing the bigger guy’s arm as he stepped into him. Cannon kept the bastard’s hand pinned to his side, preventing him from drawing the pistol tucked in his holster. A firm elbow to the jaw and Cannon had the man reeling backwards. A shift of his leg and a quick lunge, and the creep was down—head connecting hard with the floor. It cracked against the old wood, rolling the man’s eyes back as his head lolled to one side.

  His buddy barely had time to blink before Rigs was on him. Rigs was probably twenty pounds lighter and three inches shorter than the other man, but it wasn’t even a contest. Rigs hit him with two strikes to the chest and throat, then dropped him with a firm kick to the knee. The guy wobbled for a few seconds, falling beside his partner with a boot to the head.

  Cannon stepped beside Rigs when Jericho peeked out of the washroom, gaze settling on the two men laid out on the floor. She grinned then joined them, crossing her arms on her chest.

  “See, I knew it wouldn’t be a fight.” She crouched beside the men, checking their pockets. “Looks like they both have wallets, which means they aren’t professionals. More likely more of Macmillian’s crew. There’s a closet at the end of the hallway on the left. Might be wise to leave them in there.”

  Cannon sighed but grabbed his guy and dragged him down the corridor, dropping him inside the closet. Then, he helped Rigs with the other, closing the door behind them. Jericho was staring into the bar when they returned.

  She glanced over her shoulder at Cannon. “Answer me something?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Do you trust me?”

  Cannon frowned. “What the hell kind of question is that? Of course, I trust you.”

  “And Colt? You trust him with my life, too, right?�
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  “I wouldn’t have men with me I didn’t trust with both our lives.” He moved in beside her. “What’s going on, Jericho?”

  She motioned to the door. “Looks like we won’t need to come back tomorrow.”

  Cannon followed her gaze, clenching his jaw when he spotted a man in jeans and a leather jacket—nothing the way he’d pictured Brown to dress. But there was no denying it was him. The shape of his jaw, the slicked back hair. Even dressed to fit in, he owned his space. Every movement broadcasted that he was dangerous. A man intimately connected to death.

  But so was Cannon. And not from the safety of a scope.

  Jericho snagged his arm when he went to push past her. “Down, boy.”

  “Screw that. He’s mine.”

  “Cannon.” She huffed when he went to pull his arm free. “Rick. While I’d love nothing more than to watch you take him out, I have an idea.”

  “Better than me choking the life out of him?”

  She smiled, and damn, his traitorous heart sped up. “The fact he showed up after these two guys obviously spotted me suggests that I might have gotten it wrong. I don’t think Brown was planning on coming here, tonight. I think he sent a bunch of men out to places I’d case to see if I’d come out of hiding. And once they reported I was here…”

  “He came hunting for you. Which means he’ll have additional forces either on the way or positioned outside.”

  “Even Brown isn’t stupid enough to kill a federal marshal inside a crowded bar. This might be a rough part of town, but the folks here still have phones. Cameras. And the owner probably has some kind of video surveillance. He’ll try to spook me then have me killed once I leave. While he’s still in here. Not that a wanted man needs an alibi, but if we can’t prove he killed Dave, and he has witnesses to prove he didn’t kill me… That could go a long way to swinging a deal should he ever get caught, again.”

  “So, what’s your plan, sweetheart? Because you definitely have a plan if you’re asking me if I trust you and Colt.”

  “I go sit down, wait for him to approach me—”

  “Fuck that. You’re just assuming he won’t pull a gun and shoot you. I’m not that trusting of a professional hitman.”

  “Cannon. I promise you, he’s not going to try to shoot me. Besides, I’ll have Colt with me. And you can leave Rigs or Midnight in here, as well. Take the other with you.”

  He snorted. “You want me and Rigs to take out the men he has coming. The ones positioned outside.”

  “That’s the true risk.”

  He grunted, glancing at Brown as the man sauntered to the bar. Midnight appeared behind him, giving Cannon a quick nod before disappearing into the crowd. But the guy was watching. No doubts about it.

  Cannon rolled his shoulders. Fuck, he hated this. Hated having to trust her life to his buddies. Not because he didn’t have faith in them. Or her. But because it was his job. His duty. Deputy Marshal or not, Jericho was his to protect. To love. And he took that job seriously.

  Jericho squeezed his forearm. “I’ll be fine. You’re the one who’ll be taking all the risks. Do you think it’s easy for me to ask you to do this? To put your life on the line for me? I might not be a Black Ops soldier like you, but I still took an oath. Still have a job to do. And knowing you could take a bullet meant for me… I don’t like it. But I’m not too proud to say you’re, by far, the more skilled warrior in this type of situation. And with my side still sore…”

  “Fine. I’ll head outside. But I’m leaving everyone else in here.” He held up his hand. “Please, I can take care of a few men on my own. But, if there are more in here, and they don’t share Brown’s reservations about killing a fed, then I want you as protected as you can be. Like you just said. You’re still healing. The last thing you need is to get caught in some kind of shootout where you’ll go sacrificing yourself for the greater good.”

  He moved in close, lowering his face until it hovered an inch above hers, their lips nearly touching. “Do not go and get yourself hurt.”

  “As long as you do the same.”

  “They might think they’re killers, sweetheart. But they’re about to meet the real thing.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  He was serious.

  Jericho knew it. From the glint in his eyes to the grim line of his mouth. Cannon actually considered himself a killer. And, hell, she knew he had been. Had eliminated an undisclosed number of tangoes during his time in the Army. Probably more than Brown and all his men put together. Definitely more than she’d ever face throughout her career.

  But that didn’t make him a killer. It made him a warrior. Cannon seemed to forget that he’d acted in defense of his country. On orders from men like her uncle. Sure, Cannon had pulled the trigger, or used his knife—shit, probably his bare hands. But it hadn’t been for profit or sport. Or like some of the creeps she’d faced—for pleasure. And it had taken a hefty toll on him.

  She could see that, too. From the shadows on his face, to the way his jaw muscle twitched just before he steeled his resolve. Pushed down any kind of emotion. He was deadly, but every encounter cost him. Ate away more of the man beneath the soldier—more of Rick.

  But that part of him was the reason she was alive. Hadn’t died in the restaurant or after being stabbed. She’d have to work harder to make him see that she loved both sides of him. That he could be lethal and loving. That he didn’t have to lose Rick in order to be Cannon.

  Of course, telling him she loved him would be a good start. And, despite being nervous, she needed to just grow a set and trust him. Right, because she had so much experience in relationships. In being in love.

  She sighed. They’d just have to learn together because she was pretty damn sure he wasn’t any more skilled in that arena than she was. Just her luck, she finally found equal footing with the man, and it involved risking her heart.

  Jericho gave herself a mental shake, watching as Cannon mumbled something to Rigs then headed into the main section the bar, promptly disappearing from sight. She didn’t know how he did it. There one second, then just gone. Vanished. As if he’d fallen into a hole. Or been beamed away like Star Trek. The guy was huge. Massive in a way she’d never experienced before. And, still, he moved like a shadow.

  Rigs stepped up beside her. “I’ll follow behind you to the table, but I won’t stop. Won’t give anyone any reason to think we’re together. You won’t have to say anything to Colt. I’ll make sure he gets the message. Just don’t do anything crazy. And, if bullets start flying, get down.”

  He snorted at her glare. “I know. Addison is just like you. Noble to a fault. All about the badge. The oath. But…Ice will kill me if he has to patch you up, again. Especially with your side still injured. Not to mention what Cannon would do. And I’m not ashamed to say, the guy isn’t someone I’d want to fight. Clear?”

  “I said I wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks. That’s all I can promise anyone.”

  “Had a feeling you’d see it that way. Just be careful.”

  He waved her out, and she headed for the table. Rigs trailed behind her and off to her left, shielding her from Brown’s view as she walked back to Colt. She slid into her chair as Rigs reached them. He flashed some kind of hand signal at Colt then kept moving—disappearing just like Cannon had done. Damn, were they all that stealthy?

  Of course, they were. Cannon had said he wouldn’t have men with him he didn’t trust with both their lives, which meant they were equally skilled. Equally lethal.

  Colt shifted his chair, again, this time angling it so he could tackle her out of her seat if the situation called for it. At least, that’s what she assumed. The guy was as paranoid as Cannon. But she stood by her assumptions. She knew Brown. Had studied his file until the words had all bled together. And she was certain he wouldn’t try to kill her, himself. Not when he could have someone else take the fall.

  Colt grabbed a drink and slid it over to her, leaning in close as he placed one in front of
him and another on the floor beside him. He obviously wanted to hide the fact Cannon had been sitting there, previously. Make Brown think there was only the two of them.

  Colt smiled, and for the first time, she noticed how handsome the guy was. Dirty blond hair—longer than Cannon’s—and rugged good looks that she was sure had charmed him into a steady supply of beds. But where Cannon came across as dangerous, Colt seemed almost surfer-like. Pretty features that were a direct contrast to the skill she was sure he possessed. Cannon had told her that Colt had been part of his Delta unit for seven years, which meant the other man was also lethal. He just didn’t look it.

  Which was probably part of the reason he was good at infiltrating different groups. He didn’t appear like the kind of man who could disarm you or kill you before you could blink. That made him a different kind of deadly.

  He chuckled. “Do I want to know what you’re thinking because…” He whistled faintly. “The look you’re giving me. It’s like you just realized the dogs at your feet were wild, all along.”

  She laughed, keeping part of her focus on Brown, but if he’d noticed her presence, he wasn’t showing it, yet. “I was just thinking that you don’t look like the kind of guy I’d peg as being a threat.”

  “That’s because I’m not.”

  “Not to me. But to Brown or any of his men…”

  Colt shrugged. “Being underestimated can come in handy. I’m sure you’re familiar with that. I’d assume most men don’t see you as a viable threat, either. But I’ve heard what you’re capable of. Saw, firsthand, how badass you are. Very few people would have had the resolve to escape that car—walk all that way in your condition. You’re as dangerous as any of the men Cannon has working for him, Jericho. Maybe more so because you’re the perfect distraction.” He winked at her. “Those were Cannon’s words, by the way. ‘The perfect distraction.’ He told me that after he’d met you. That he bet you could bag any felon you wanted because you blinded them with your beauty.”