by Norris, Kris
She snorted. “Cannon said that?”
“I may have…paraphrased a bit.”
“He doesn’t tend to use that many descriptive words. Though, it’s nice to see not all soldiers are plagued by his shortcomings.”
“Actually, I think it’s just you. He’s never had any issues barking out orders. Expressing himself. But with you… The man’s a goner, and he doesn’t even realize it. Or maybe the real problem is—he does.”
Colt’s eyes shifted, and he leaned even closer. “Tango on the move. Stay close. And, if he looks as if he’s going to hurt you…”
Colt didn’t finish, but he didn’t have to. Jericho knew what would happen. He’d either take Brown out or get between her and whatever Brown was planning to do.
“Deputy Marshal, Colt. If the man’s going down. I should be the one to pull the trigger, badge and all.” Except for the part where she wasn’t sure if she could without her ribs affecting her aim. Her draw. Though, chances were he’d be so close, she couldn’t miss.
But then, neither could he.
Colt merely shrugged, again, saying everything without speaking, at all.
Jericho focused on Brown, instead. On the way he walked around the bar then zeroed in on them. She maintained eye contact, pushing her jacket back to expose her badge and weapon—let Brown know she wasn’t here for the booze or music.
Brown stopped next to the table, eyeing Colt before dragging out a chair and sitting on it. “Deputy Marshal Nash. What a surprise. Rumor had it you’d been killed.”
Jericho smiled. “Lord knows you gave it your best shot. Guess you should have stuck around.”
“I wasn’t the one who tried to kill you. I merely took advantage of the situation.”
“Oh, so this is you turning yourself in?”
He laughed, placing his elbows on the table. “I have to admit, I’m surprised you came here, tonight. Even with your new guard dog in tow.” He looked over at Colt. “Cannon, isn’t it? Funny, I’d heard you were overly large. I mean, you’re big, but…”
Colt matched Brown’s positioning. “Guess it’s a matter of perspective. I believe the lady asked you a question. Are you going to come peacefully, or do we have to insist?”
Brown glanced around the bar. “I wouldn’t suggest drawing your guns. You wouldn’t want this to turn into a bloodbath, would you?” He focused back on her. “I didn’t come alone.”
She straightened. “Neither did I.”
“You’ve got, what? Two or three men in here. Maybe four. I’ve got over a dozen outside. More in here. Even if you managed to cuff me, reach the door without any resistance, you’ll never make it to your car alive if you try to take me in. Though, you weren’t living through this, anyway, so…”
A dozen men? Just outside? And Cannon was on his own. Shit. She should have insisted he take Rigs with him. Hell, Midnight, too. Cannon was the one who needed backup. Instead, his team was stationed around the bar, babysitting her.
She swallowed the sick feeling clogging her throat. “Who said I wanted to take you in? You’re a wanted man, Ty. Dead or alive, as the saying goes.”
“You? Open fire inside a crowded bar? Don’t make threats you’re not willing to see through. We both know you’d never risk it. Too many possible casualties. You might want me dead, Nash, but you’re still the law. Still bound by that badge on your hip.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Maybe that’s why you brought the Army guy with you. Maybe you’re hoping he won’t have any issues in killing me. Still, I can’t help but think that, if anyone starts firing, it’ll snowball. You and your friend might have restraint, but I’m betting others in here won’t. My men see me go down…” He sighed. “There’s no telling how they’re react.”
“Is that why you came over? Thought you could scare me into letting you go?”
“Just wanted to clear the air. Get the situation out in the open. You tried to play it smart at that restaurant, but Wilson was too damn stupid to take your offer. I don’t suffer from his lack of forethought. I’m betting you’ll make the right decision tonight, as well. After all, I’m not the one in danger.” He looked up when the bartender stopped at the table, handing each of them a drink. “Have a round on me. Calm your nerves. I’ll be here the rest of the night, in case you were wondering.”
Brown pushed away then stood, grinning as he turned then walked over to the bar. Colt laid his arm across the back of her seat. To most, it would look like a romantic gesture. Comforting. But she knew he was making it easier for him to grab her—take her to the ground if things turned ugly.
She balked at him. “What the hell, Colt? I don’t need protecting. You heard him. He’s got a dozen men outside. Maybe more on the way. Go help Cannon.”
Colt merely glanced her way for a moment. “Cannon’ll be just fine. Though, you have a point. We should hold out for a bit. Give him time to eliminate the men who haven’t arrived, yet. He’ll let me know when it’s safe for us to make our move.”
“You want to give him more time? But—”
“Trust me, Jericho. Brown’s the one who should be worried. He may be considered a pro in the civilian world, but he’s got nothing on Cannon. By the time Cannon gets in here… Brown won’t know what hit him.”
* * *
Ten men. Shit, make that twelve. Two more getting out of a sedan. Sneaking into the shadows. Chances were, there’d be close to twenty by the time midnight came and went.
Cannon moved in behind some dumpsters. The bar was on a corner lot, backed by a couple of vacant stores. There was a sorry excuse for a park across the street. Mostly just a swing set and some benches surrounded by unkept bushes and trees. A small patch of grass in the center that looked more weed than anything else. Run-down apartment buildings towered over the area on the other side, a dilapidated church on the next corner over.
The perfect place to launch an assault. Even if Jericho managed to apprehend Brown, she’d be cut down before she’d taken more than a couple of steps out the door.
Not tonight.
He patted down his vest. One last check of his equipment. He’d gone back to truck—retrieved it. Somehow, he’d known it would come down to this. Him slinking through the alleys and buildings. Taking out Brown’s men one-by-one. And he’d be lying if he said he was disappointed. Though, he’d try not to kill all of the bastards Brown had hiding in the shadows, taking them out—leaving them for the cops to ‘round up—soothed the part of him that longed for revenge. That wanted to even the score. They’d made this personal. Hurt Jericho. He wouldn’t truly feel at peace until he’d given it back tenfold. Knowing he was taking armed and dangerous thugs off the streets didn’t hurt any, either. Gave him just a hint of moral high ground.
He headed down the alley backing the bar, making his way to the next street. He crossed the road then carefully picked his way back amidst the shadows. He’d tackle any forces holed up in the park, first. Those were the dangerous ones. The men who most likely had rifles. Even if they weren’t overly skilled, they could still hit Jericho when she left. It wasn’t that far.
It only took him a couple of minutes to get into position—scope out the terrain. Three men. One on top of a dumpster beside the apartments. Two in the trees. All of them had rifles. Scopes. He couldn’t tell the make, but it didn’t matter. They weren’t going to get a chance to use them.
He headed for the apartments, first. Then, he’d work his way forward. A quick sprint along the side of the building, a jump and a push up, and he was crouched on the metal surface—the sniper stretched out on his stomach in front of him. The asshole didn’t have a clue Cannon was there until he was unconscious at Cannon’s feet. A couple of zip ties and some duct tape, and the guy wouldn’t be going anywhere until the cops rescued him.
Cannon rolled the guy to the side, taking up his position. A small pile of cigarette butts suggested the creep had been waiting a while. Not that it surprised Cannon. Picking a vantage point—setting up a nest, rega
rdless of how amateur it was—took time. Which meant these were likely the only snipers Brown had. The rest of his men would be thugs. Guys who planned on using brawn or firepower to get results.
Cannon readied the rifle, sighting the men through his scope. He couldn’t risk climbing the trees in order to subdue them. Too many ways it could go south—alert Brown’s forces that someone was on to them. And, with the numbers Brown had enlisted, Cannon couldn’t afford to take any chances—to leave any threat unanswered.
Two shots, and the men were down. One caught up in the branches. The other buried inside some bushes. Remote enough they wouldn’t likely be spotted by civilians, not that any were out. This place was like a dead zone. Though, that was probably a nightly occurrence. Even Jericho had admitted it wasn’t the sort of place anyone ventured alone.
Except for Brown’s thugs. The ones next on Cannon’s list.
He vaulted down then headed for the alley, working in a circle around the bar. The first couple of encounters were quick. A few punches followed by some strategic kicks, and the guys were down. Bound and gagged. The next set were more skilled. Some martial arts knowledge. Knives and guns. Took him a full minute to drop them—a non-lethal knife wound taking out the last guy. But, it had been the bastard’s own knife.
There were four men waiting in cars. Spread out around the lot. They thought they were being stealthy, extending their coverage, but it only made it easier for Cannon to pick them off.
Thirty minutes since he’d left the bar, and he’d eliminated thirteen men. One had arrived late. Bastard hadn’t made it two steps out of his truck.
But it wasn’t over. Not, yet. Not until Cannon was sure the stream of tangoes was done. Which meant lingering a bit longer. He could down two dozen men, but it wouldn’t matter if he missed one. If some asshole arrived after Cannon had ventured back inside—told Jericho it was safe. Every soldier knew he could die just as easily from the last bullet as he could from the first. And he wasn’t putting Jericho’s life on the line.
The rain picked up, blanketing the area in a foggy haze. Cannon make a few more circuits of the park and alley until he was confident Brown was out of men. Then, he headed inside, still keeping to the shadows. He stayed hidden, constantly scanning the bar. But the odd guy he thought might be a threat was quickly dealt with by either Midnight or Rigs. His buddies were impressive. Never drawing attention to themselves. Moving seamlessly through the crowd.
Midnight crossed in front of him—gave him the “all clear” sign then positioned himself at the end of the bar. Rigs appeared at the other side, leaning against the counter. Relaxed but primed.
Cannon glanced at Colt. The other man had known he was there from the moment he’d walked back into the bar, but he’d stayed at the table. Their gazes met, held, then Colt was talking to Jericho. Nodding and motioning toward Brown.
She smiled, and damn Cannon’s heart kicked. Hard. Left an ache in the middle of his chest. Fuck, she was beautiful. The way she rose from her seat. If he didn’t know, firsthand, how badly she’d been injured. Knew that her ribs were still bugging her. He wouldn’t have been able to tell she’d nearly died several days ago.
When she started walking toward Brown, Cannon had to drag his focus off of her. Scan the room then slowly shift over toward them. But it was hard. Not watching the way her hips swayed—the confident line of her silhouette—required all his training. He made sure he was only a reach away when she stopped in front of Brown, one hand palming her pistol. The other resting by her belt. Ready, but calm. Detached.
Brown arched a brow, leaning against the counter. “Something on your mind, Marshal Nash?”
“It’s Deputy Marshal Nash.” She didn’t flinch. Didn’t so much as blink. “Ty Brown. There’s a warrant out for your arrest. Please turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
He chuckled. “Going to test my bluff, are you? Betting Cannon can keep you safe?”
“I don’t have to bet. It’s a sure thing.”
“Do you really want his blood on your hands, too? Isn’t Faraday’s enough?”
A small twitch of her jaw muscle. “I asked you to turn around.”
“And if I refuse?”
In one fluid motion, she stepped back, drew her gun, and aimed it at his head. She grimaced slightly—most likely from the pull on her ribs, but it wasn’t stopping her. Slowing her down. Her arms were trembling a bit. Though, Cannon was probably the only one who noticed. Who was that intimately aware of her.
She held firm. “Then, I’ll be forced to shoot you.”
Brown stood there, his smile slowly fading when no one made a move toward her. He glanced around the bar, the lines on his mouth deepening.
Jericho inched closer. “Turn. Around.”
Brown reached toward the gun Cannon knew was holstered inside his jacket, but he didn’t even make it to his side before Colt had the man twisted and pinned to the bar, arm wrenched behind his back, a bloody cut across his forehead.
Colt leaned down close. “The lady asked you to turn around.”
Brown grunted as Jericho slipped the handcuffs around his wrists. “You won’t make it out of here alive. I promise you that. Your boyfriend can’t save you.”
Jericho grabbed his elbows, hoisting him upright. “See, that was your first mistake.” She nodded toward Colt. “He’s not Cannon.”
Cannon waited until Brown made eye contact, the man’s face paling. “I am.”
Chapter Eighteen
She’d done it. Jericho had dragged Ty Brown’s ass into the Marshal Office and locked the door on his temporary detention cell. Caught the man who had killed her partner—perhaps stabbed her, if her memories weren’t reliable. In all accounts, she’d won.
So, why did it still feel as if she’d lost? Was merely a pawn in some grander game? While she hadn’t expected to feel better about what had happened—getting blindsided. Losing Dave—she had hoped it would give her a small measure of closure. Instead, the feeling that she was missing a vital piece of evidence had increased until it suffocated the very air around her.
“Hey.”
What the hell wasn’t she seeing? What couldn’t she remember?
“Jericho?”
It was after she’d hit her head—had it smashed into the dash and the window. Something about other prospects? Had it been Dave talking or Brown?
“Jericho!”
She blinked, glancing over at Cannon as he wove through the streets. A passing car flashed light across his face, highlighting the furrow between his brows before it fell into the shadows, again.
“I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
He snorted, shaking his head as he placed one large hand over hers. “Where’d you go? Because you haven’t been here, with me, since we left the office. Something wrong?”
“Not wrong. It’s just…”
How did she voice her concerns without sounding ungrateful? He’d taken out over a dozen men on his own. All for her. So she could arrest Brown without risking her life. And he’d done it without asking her for anything in return. The guy never ceased to amaze her. Never seemed to consider his own well-being in place of hers.
And she was still doubting everything. Still dwelling on missing pieces that might be nothing more than her imagination. Snippets from another moment intruding on the present.
He squeezed her hand. “You haven’t remembered that game-changing piece of information, yet, have you?”
“I don’t even know that there is something. Just this gut feeling. Ghostly memories that never quite take shape. We got Brown, thanks to you. Your teammates. That should be enough.”
“No one said those two items had to be exclusive of each other, sweetheart. If your gut’s telling you there’s more to this than what we know, then you should trust it. Capturing Brown was a good first step—one that might allow you to investigate this further without having to look over your shoulder every second you’re on the job. But digging deeper doesn’t negat
e all we’ve done.”
“Then, why do I feel as if I’m being ungrateful?”
He glanced at her. Smiled. And the sexy secret agent was back, stealing her breath, and her heart, with that easy tilt of his lips. “Because you’re stubborn. Hate having other people take risks for you. A trait I’m determined to break because we all need a team, Jericho. People we trust. It’s about time you realized you’re not alone. Not anymore.”
“I wasn’t alone, before. I had Dave. He…”
He’d ditched her. Lied to her. In fact, she couldn’t help but wonder if anything had been real between them since she’d joined the Marshal Service. Or if it had all been a ruse from the start. If he’d been playing her the entire time. Questions she’d never answer if she couldn’t remember those precious few minutes in the car.
Cannon sighed as he eased his truck to a stop. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have dredged this all up, again. I just… Whatever you’re missing, it can wait until morning. I think we’ve earned the rest of the night off. And Art said they’d be holding Brown until the marshals had a chance to question him, and the feds decided where they wanted him. That he’d be there at least until tomorrow night. We can go back in. Question him, ourselves. Maybe he’ll be in a better mood to talk once he realizes just how much shit he’s in. That there might be a contract on his head, now. But, until then, we recoup. Rest. Give those ribs of yours more time to heal.”
Jericho gazed up at him. His copper eyes had darkened to more of a burnished bronze. The skin along his cheekbones taut. While he still had the suave air about him, she didn’t miss the fierceness in his expression. The new-found tension gathering around them. A quick glance at his groin, and she knew why. The man was more than a bit aroused.