by Norris, Kris
“Talk like that will get you more than just one in the arse, mate. And I can handle this on my own.”
“We’re a team. Maybe that’s not how you did it—Christ, do it in MI6, but you’re part of Delta, now, mate.”
Six headed for the far wall, opening a long safe hidden behind some artwork. He removed three pistols and a handful of clips. Two Ka-bars, a holster, his vest and a couple of flash bangs. Only took him a second to hand Kam the holster, some clips and another gun—an M9 to replace the one that had been taken in Vegas, and because he knew she favored Berettas—keeping the Sig and Glock for himself. He would have liked to have given her his Kevlar vest, but it would have dwarfed her and ended up being too much of a hindrance. He glanced at Crow and Gibson, but they already looked armed for a small invasion.
Six didn’t really want to know where the men had been concealing everything. Didn’t care. They needed firepower, and the more they had, the better.
He slipped on his vest, tucked the knives, clips and flash bangs in the pockets. Ten seconds flat, and he was ready. Was killing the lights—heading for the door. He pressed his ear to the frame, waited, then showed the count on one hand, opening the door when he reached zero.
Gibson slipped out high, Crow low, both sweeping the hallway with their weapons. Kam followed after him, looking far too comfortable with one pistol grasped in her hands. The other tucked in the holster. Fuck, she was sexy with it cinched around her thigh. Her muscular leg outlined by the denim. The way the bands velcroed around her leg.
Gibson made a few hand signals, then he and Crow were going right. Blending in with the shadows. Vanishing in the space of a heartbeat. Nothing but empty darkness as Six turned left. He glanced at Kam, motioning for her to have his back.
She pursed her mouth but nodded. She obviously thought he was being overly protective. That she could have easily taken point. And she was right. She could have. But he also had his unusual ace up his sleeve. While he couldn’t guarantee he’d have any time leaks while they were making their escape, he’d plan for them. Ensure he was ready to react at the slightest hint of danger. A flash of an image. A word. Just the beading of his skin. And if he was going to use them to his advantage, he needed to lead. To be the first line of defense against whoever was currently breaking into their facility. There was also the part where he’d sworn he wouldn’t let Kam get another scratch while he was breathing. She didn’t have to like it, as long as she stayed behind him—out of the line of fire.
Six quick-stepped along the hall, gun at the ready. Senses on high alert. The building was dead. Not a sound, which meant Crow and Gibson hadn’t lost a damn ounce of their prowess. Not that he’d seen Gibson in action but—the guy had been SRR and was now MI6. Whether as a contract agent or full time operative, Six didn’t know. But there wasn’t a doubt that the Brit was lethal. Could have taken on whatever threat they were facing alone.
But that wasn’t how a team worked, and damn it, they were more than teammates. They were family. Brothers.
Six headed for the staircase. This one sat halfway between his and Colt’s apartments and terminated in the main warehouse section beside the office. A bit more removed than the one Crow and Gibson were using, but closer to the rear of the building. And since Gibson had caught sight of the men heading for the back of the warehouse…
A click. Barely discernible, but he’d heard it. A hushed noise that quickly faded back into that all-encompassing silence. The door. That’s what it had been. The lock disengaging.
And the fuckers hadn’t set off any of the alarms. Had gotten past the countermeasures Rigs had set up since Ellis had landed on their doorstep. In case McCormick had decided to send another wet squad to eliminate her and Colt—probably everyone in the building—the agreement they’d made with the CIA be damned. But, to date, the security hadn’t been tripped.
Which meant they had an explosives expert among their ranks. Probably an ex-ordinance soldier like Rigs. Or maybe a bomb dog like Blade. Either way, it seemed McCormick had learned from his previous failure and had adapted accordingly. It also implied they’d have men watching the roof. Would be ready for flash bangs.
Fine, he’d just have to take them out with his Sig or his Ka-Bar. Fuck, his bare hands. Whatever it took, whatever the risk, he’d pay the price because Kam was worth it. And there was no way he was losing her before he’d discovered just how far they could take this relationship. If his Hail Mary of a marriage might end up being the best decision of his life.
Six paused at the top of the stairs, crouching behind the railing as he peeked around the edge. Nothing but more darkness. Kam tapped him on the shoulder, motioned toward the other side, then darted across the opening, mimicking his position—gun pointed down the stairs.
He smiled. He’d been right. If she hadn’t been drugged, she would have kicked serious ass back in Vegas. But then, he wouldn’t have had to adapt, and they wouldn’t have gotten hitched. Shared that life-altering kiss in the bathroom. One he intended on repeating just as soon as they were safe. When he could let his guard down long enough to savor every nuance of her mouth. Taste every inch of flesh.
Having her fully cognizant, now, though, was a godsend.
Six circled his finger, pointed, then started down, taking each step slowly. Silently. There was a landing and a ninety-degree bend halfway down—the perfect place to get ambushed.
He stopped just shy of it, allowing Kam to catch up, before continuing down and over, sweeping the rest of the stairs. Nothing moved within his line of sight, but… He didn’t need his sixth sense to know something was there in the darkness—waiting to strike.
Kam stepped onto the landing when an image flashed in his head. A flare of light. The bullet aimed at him missing wide then ricocheting toward Kam. Blood pooling beneath her body as she crumpled on the stairs.
He dove, tackling her back against the stairs just as a dull whoosh lit the air—a metallic ping vibrating around them when a bullet ricocheted off the handrail, just missing his head as it bounced off at an angle. Footsteps scuffed the floor beneath them, a muted grunt fading into more silence.
Six gave Kam a quick body sweep, then grabbed the railing. “Stay here for a minute.”
“But Six…”
He was already moving. Pushing up. Balancing on his left hand as he vaulted over the railing. Using that split second of hang time to evaluate the situation. Three guys by the front wall—just out of sight of the stairs. Assault rifles backlit by the outside lights streaming in through the glass. What looked like body armor and vests similar to his. He didn’t see a dog, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one.
He hit the floor, didn’t make a sound, then rolled with the force, gaining his feet just long enough to dive, again—pop up at the end of the staircase. He pressed his back against the wooden column, counted to three, then took a quick look out—the men were on the move, closing in on the stairs.
Six slipped back, listened. Scuffs. Not loud enough he would have heard them up on the landing, but being only a few feet away, they were distinguishable. Mapping out each stride as the group reached the bottom of the staircase.
Go time.
Two steps, and he was in the mix. Dead center of the group. Too close for them to use their rifles. He’d decided he’d try to avoid using his Sig—his silencer had been on the one that the other fuckers had taken, so shooting would alert everyone in the building. And if this wasn’t the only group, he’d be placing a damn bullseye on his back. Possibly putting Crow and Gibson at risk.
Instead, he had a Ka-Bar out—had it pegged in the last guy’s throat before they even knew he was there. A kick to the leader’s knee and he buckled. Not fully, but enough to disable him for a few seconds while Six deflected the knife the middle guy swung at his chest. All it took was a hand around the gunman’s wrist and a strike to the elbow, and the knife dropped—clattered to the floor. A sweep of Six’s leg, a shift backwards, and the guy went down. Hard.
; His buddy recovered—turned to face Six. Gun at the ready. But Six had already dodged left, gotten clear when the asshole fired off several rounds, cracking the glass wall to the office. He corrected his aim, only to hit his teammate when Six yanked him upright, shielding himself with the man’s body. It jerked as the bullets hit the armor, the man crumpling to the floor when Six released his hold.
The gunman froze—gaze fixed on his downed colleague. That was all the opening Six needed. That half-second of indecision. He lunged forward, catching the man’s chin with a firm uppercut. The man reeled backwards, bracing himself on the stairs then dodging the next strike and countering with a couple jabs and a kick. Six blocked the first two, catching the kick in the ribs.
He stumbled back, tripping, again, when another kick landed, only to duck beneath the next one. A lunge and another step and he was in close—staring the bastard in the eyes, blocking the elbow the guy threw. Six got a hand behind the man’s head—made sure it connected with his knee. That had blood pouring from the guy’s nose—his body tipping back. Three more strikes to the head and he was against the stairs, again, gun falling off to the right. One boot to the jaw, and he was out. Eyes rolled back. Head slack to one side.
Six knocked the gun away when his senses kicked in—two men. Moving in from behind. One centered on him. The other at where he’d left Kam. Six had assumed they’d want her alive, but he wasn’t going to bet her life on that assumption. For all he knew, things had changed. Maybe Slader didn’t need her to access the intel and had shifted to eliminating loose ends.
Six drew as he turned, raising his Sig—aiming at the bastard gunning for Kam. No sense worrying about noise, now. Not when it was life or death. He wasn’t sure he’d get off two rounds before they fired, but he’d stop anything headed for her. Hope the other guy went for a torso hit—that his vest prevented him from being killed outright. Because that’s what it would take to stop him. Keep him from pushing on. Staying at her side.
He didn’t get a chance to compress the trigger before the men arched backwards, tripping forward another foot then dropping to the floor. Blood arcing across the concrete. Silver tips protruding from their necks.
Six looked up, ready to strike, when Gibson appeared out of the shadows, another knife clutched between his fingers. He scanned the area then nodded. “Place is clear, for now. Took out another three on our side, but there’s more on the way. You two go out the back, and we’ll rendezvous with you along the way. Head north.”
“Where’s Crow?”
“By the front. Bastard’s probably already having fun without me. We’ll take his car, if you can call it that. I’ll radio you when we’re on the road. Get moving.”
Six glanced at Kam when she joined them at the bottom, stepping over the guy he’d knocked out. “We should stay together. Fight as a group.”
Gibson groaned. “Are you daft?” He pointed at Kam. “She’s the key to all of this. The only one who can access that damn list. If Slader gets his hands on her, it’s game over, mate. Someone needs to keep her safe. I’ve heard about this sixth sense of yours. Saw it in action back in the clinic. You’re the best bloke for the job.” He winked at Six. “There’s also the part where you swore until death, right?”
“Jackass.”
“Hell, yeah. Crow and I can handle these men. Besides, I’m sure there’ll be more on your tail before you reach the truck. Keep that radio on channel nine.”
He was gone inside of a couple of seconds—disappearing into the shadows inside the office. A few explosions rocked the building from the outside, blinding flashes brightening the night. Guess the next group didn’t have an ordinance guy along.
Six grabbed Kam’s hand. “Time to move.”
She fell in step with him as they headed for the rear door—constantly scanning the room. A light drizzle misted the air, thick clouds cloaking the area in deep shadows. Six scanned the alleyway—the same place he’d gotten shot several months ago—then opened the door. Nothing but the soft patter of rain on the pavement. The occasional horn in the distance.
He nodded at Kam then struck off. Slowly, at first. Checking the dark pockets along the walls. Once they were clear of the building, he upped his pace. A jog, then faster. Kam’s steps matched his. Steady. Strong. Her breath quickened but stayed controlled.
They hit the next alley, slowed just enough to do a sweep, then they were running. Down the narrow road, across a street, then right at the next junction. Six detoured through another series of warehouses, up and over a dumpster, clearing a chain-link fence, then slipping between buildings.
Shouts sounded close to them, footsteps pounding the pavement. They were parallel. The row of buildings separating them. Fuckers must have been waiting a block over—caught a glimpse of Six and Kam racing away from the office. Or maybe the group Crow and Gibson intercepted radioed before they were subdued. Relayed that their asset had escaped. Because Six had no doubts that his teammates had eliminated the other men. That they were jumping into Crow’s car—searching for more tangoes.
A dumpster on the left had Six veering behind it—pressing Kam against the brick building. He motioned for her to wait then vaulted on top, laying across the lid as he listened for movement.
More footsteps, closing in from the left. Along a narrow alley between the buildings. Not wide enough to fit a vehicle, but more than enough for a group of armed men. He removed one of the flash bangs, waited until they were about to round the corner then tossed it, sliding down off the metal container and grabbing Kam.
He didn’t need to tell her to cover her ears—turn into his chest. She heard the click of the canister along the asphalt. Knew what he’d done. And she reacted accordingly. Tucking into his torso, her hands covering her ears. Then, the night exploded. Deafening sound wave. Blinding light. Choking smoke.
Six was moving as the last of the noise echoed through the streets—hanging in the damp air. Making the droplets vibrate from the force. He took one side, Kam the other. The men were still dazed, shaking their heads—trying to get their limbs to work. A few boots to the head had them on their backs. Still.
He smiled at the way Kam glided through the maneuvers. How each kick was an extension of her body, not a separate motion. She really was lethal in her own right.
She took his hand then followed him along the alley, over one block, then left. A lone white truck was parked off to one side. Six hit the fob—had it unlocked by the time they reached it. Kam jumped in his side, slid over, then had her gun aimed behind them. Ready to eliminate any threats that might crop up.
But Six was already revving the engine, peeling away in a cloud of smoke and fog, the tires spinning on the slick road. He swerved around the next corner, hit the gas, then jumped across an adjoining street. The struts creaked from the impact, but the truck held steady, accelerating as they fishtailed onto the main road—headed north.
Kam stared out the back, watching the road until they’d gained a few miles—hadn’t been followed. She relaxed a bit, looking over at him. “Do me a favor?”
He glanced at her. Gave her a smile. “Anything for you, sweetheart. What do you need?”
“For you to stand still long enough for me to kick your ass. Because if you shove me on the sidelines one more time…” She leaned in close. “That kiss in the bathroom will be the first and the last we ever share.”
Chapter Fourteen
Was it possible to be thankful and pissed at the same time? Because that’s how Kam felt. Sitting there next to Six, silently wanting to kiss him while knocking him on his ass. Because he’d done it, again. Put himself between her and armed men—without even asking for help. And while a part of her loved him even more for it, the soldier part of her—the one still walking in that desert—was seeing red.
She’d understood why it had been necessary in Vegas. Owed her life to him. A debt she probably couldn’t repay. And true, she’d screwed up in the bar—hadn’t been quite quick enough. But, she’d been fully in th
e zone, tonight. Was prepared to take on whatever forces stood between them and the door—eliminate any threat, just like she’d been training to do—only to have him bench her while he took all the risks.
Sure, she could have confronted him on the stairs. Or in the alley. Or just forged ahead, regardless. But that would have only resulted in putting him at greater risk. Because in order for them to be effective fighting together, they needed to work as a team—like during that last dash after Six had tossed the flash bang. Not have both of them operating on their own agendas. Two rogue soldiers getting in each other’s way.
Six’s smile fell. Just vanished. As if she’d taken all the joy from his life. Broken something deep inside him. And damn, it made her want to take it back. Apologize. But, she couldn’t. They’d been partners for months. And she wasn’t going to let one kiss shatter that. Even if it had been mind-blowing. The kind of kiss that started wars. Or ended them.
Instead, she crossed her arms, staring at him with one brow raised, her lips pursed into a tight line. She’d dealt with this kind of double standard all her life, and she could sit there as long as required to get some answers.
Six rolled his shoulders, as if the weight of her stare affected him. “Kam—”
“Don’t. Don’t tell me that you’d simply been in a better position to strike. Or that you had fully intended on including me, but things had changed too suddenly. Or that I’m more valuable. None of that matters because until this morning, I thought we were partners. Equals. If something’s changed—if you think I’m not strong enough to have your back—then at least have the balls to tell me.”
A slash of red crept across his cheeks as the muscle in his jaw jumped. “Is that what you think? That I don’t see you as being strong enough to be my partner?”
“You tell me, because you seemed pretty damn upset about something in that bar the first night. Said Cannon wasn’t the only one with a grievance, and you’ve been shoving me behind your back, since, so… You do the math.”