Sharpshooter

by Cynthia Eden

  Sydney lifted her gun and went in low. She didn’t know what kind of angry reception she’d find waiting for her, but she had to do this search and get back to help Gunner. She had to—

  A man was tied to a chair, bound, the way she’d been moments before. He looked like the same man she’d seen in the jungle, because he was wearing that same brown sack over his head. A lantern sat near his feet, revealing his old, ragged pants.

  She approached him cautiously. No one else appeared to be in the area, but she didn’t want to take any chances. She checked every shadowed space, then eased closer to the bound man.

  He stiffened as she drew nearer. His sagging head snapped up. “Who’s there?” he demanded.

  She wanted to say the voice was familiar to her. Gunner had been so sure it was Slade’s voice that they’d heard in the jungle. But Sydney just didn’t know. The only voice she knew by heart?

  Gunner’s rough, rumbling drawl.

  “I’m here to help you,” she whispered to him. She’d shoved that sharp chunk of wood in her belt, and now she pulled it out and began to saw against his binds with it. “Don’t move.”

  But a shudder ran the length of the man’s body. “Talk to me again. I know...”

  She frowned at him. She should just take off the sack, find out for certain who this man was. But she was afraid.

  And she wasn’t usually afraid.

  “What do you know?” Sydney asked him.

  “I know...” A heaving breath. “You.”

  Her makeshift weapon cut through the binds on his wrists. There was no rope on his ankles, and he surged to his feet. As he turned toward her, he yanked off the sack that covered his head. In that dim lantern light, Sydney got her first look at the hostage’s face.

  The world seemed to slow its spinning.

  His hair was longer, his beard heavy, but...those cheekbones. That hawkish nose.

  “Sydney...”

  He yanked her into his arms. His mouth pressed to hers, and she was so stunned that she couldn’t respond, couldn’t move at all.

  Slade?

  He’d been alive. They’d left him, and he’d been...alive.

  His mouth was hard on hers. So hard.

  She pulled back, staring up at him in shock. “Slade?”

  She realized the gunfire had stopped. A good sign...or a very bad one. Sydney pushed away from Slade and glanced toward that sloping entrance.

  A man stood there. Tall, with wide shoulders, armed. A man who’d been watching them.

  He stepped forward, and the lantern light spilled onto Gunner. It was too dark for her to see the expression in his eyes, but his body looked tense.

  “Slade?” Gunner’s voice was hoarse as he lowered his weapon.

  Slowly, Slade turned to face his brother. Slade was thinner—much thinner—than he’d been before.

  Two years.

  Gunner began to walk toward Slade with slow, hesitant steps. “I—I thought you were dead.”

  Slade shuffled toward him, limping slightly.

  Gunner lifted his arms to embrace his brother.

  Slade drove his fist into Gunner’s jaw.

  “Slade!” Sydney shouted.

  But Slade wasn’t stopping. He attacked Gunner, pummeling him with his fists, kicking him with his legs. Again and again.

  Gunner didn’t fight back. Didn’t try to land a blow, didn’t try to block any of the attacks. Gunner fell, and Slade kicked his ribs. Driving in hard with his boot-covered feet.

  “Stop!” Sydney grabbed Slade’s arm. But he swung around and shoved her back, so hard that she slammed into the rough wall behind her.

  “Sydney?” Gunner’s growl. And he was rising then.

  Even as Slade stood over her now, with his fist drawn back as if he’d strike her.

  He’s been through hell. He doesn’t realize what he’s doing. Sydney cleared her throat. “You have to calm down, Slade.”

  Gunfire burst again, sounding as if the blasts came from just yards away.

  Sydney shook her head and rose fully to her feet. She kept her gun in her hand. She’d do whatever was necessary to stop the men from tearing each other apart. “We have to get out of here. Do you understand?”

  Slade’s breaths sawed in and out of his lungs.

  “Slade, do you understand?” There wasn’t time to waste. The rebels who’d fled before...what if they’d gone out to get reinforcements? Their EOD team was good, but it was just the four of them against a small army.

  Slade nodded. “I...understand.”

  Gunner was on his feet. Blood dripped from his busted lip.

  “Then you stay between me and Gunner when we go out of here. You do exactly what we say.”

  Slade glanced at Gunner. Even in the dark, she could feel Slade’s rage.

  Rage? At the brother he’d loved so much?

  More gunfire. Then...silence.

  “Let’s go,” Sydney whispered. She had to focus on just getting Slade out of there. They’d deal with everything else once they were in a secure location. The temple looked as if it would fall on them all any second. Not secure at all.

  She led the men out, and Gunner closed in behind Slade. She searched first, making sure it was clear to run, and then they were moving, rushing forward and staying within the cover of trees as much as possible.

  And she saw Logan firing at a man who’d rushed up toward him. The man fell, and Logan kept running, motioning for Sydney and her group to join him.

  She was more than happy to follow him out of that place.

  They went to the left, to the right, following a trail that only existed in Logan’s mind. Then, beneath the hanging vines of a twisted tree, she saw a jeep, half-hidden by the foliage. Logan jumped in the front of the vehicle.

  “Get in!” Logan yelled.

  She grabbed Slade’s arm and helped hoist him inside and as soon as his feet touched down—

  Gunner knocked Sydney to the ground. Two cracks of gunfire sounded, and a bullet slammed into the jeep, exactly where she had been about two seconds ago.

  His gaze bored into hers. The sun was just starting to rise, still not giving her enough light to gauge the expression in his eyes, and she wished that she could see so much more.

  Logan returned fire on the enemy.

  Gunner hauled her up, shielded her with his body, and all but tossed her into the jeep.

  Then Logan was taking off and rushing away from the battle. Yanking on the wheel, finding a road—well, not a road so much, just a space between trees that most would never have known existed.

  The jeep slowed for an instant, and Cale jumped from the shadows and slid into the back.

  Then they kept going.

  Faster, faster.

  Until the gunfire sounded like fireworks in the distance. Until Sydney could breathe without tasting smoke.

  She looked around her slowly. Gunner was pressed tightly to her side, and he had a hard grip on her wrist, as if he were afraid that she was going to try to get away from him.

  Slade was on his other side. Not speaking. Barely seeming to move at all.

  She stared down at Gunner’s hand. Very slowly, his hold eased.

  Then he wasn’t holding her at all.

  “Slade Ortez?” Logan said as he gripped the steering wheel.

  “Yes.” A word that barely rose above the roar of the motor.

  “You’re going to be safe now,” Logan told him. “We’re going to get you home.”

  Gunner wasn’t touching her now, wasn’t looking at anyone.

  She frowned at him, and realized that she could smell blood.

  Sydney’s hands flew over Gunner.

  “Stop!” he told her.

  She wasn’t going to stop touching him because, right there, high on his left shoulder, she’d just felt something wet and sticky. Blood. “You were shot.”

  His fingers curled around hers. Pushed her hand away. “It’s nothing.”

  Yes, it was a bullet wound. Not some nick
. “Is the bullet still in you?”

  He didn’t answer, and that silence was an answer for her.

  “You deserve more than that!” came Slade’s snarling voice. “Brother.” The word sounded like a curse. “You deserve to die.”

  Sydney gasped at the words. “Slade, you don’t even know what you’re saying!” She remembered Gunner shoving her to the ground. The bullet that had hit the side of the jeep. Only...hadn’t she heard two shots then? Two shots, but only one bullet had gone into the jeep.

  The other bullet had been meant to go in her.

  Gunner took a bullet for me.

  “I know...exactly...what I’m saying,” Slade growled.

  No, he didn’t. He’d been in captivity. Been hurt, tortured, but the man talking, that wasn’t the man she knew. “Gunner just risked his life for you.”

  They all had.

  “The bullet has to come out,” she whispered to Gunner. She tried to inspect the wound again.

  He gave a grim nod. But...he pushed her hand away once more.

  The move just hurt.

  “When we’re secure,” Gunner said, no emotion slipping into his voice. “I can handle it ’til then.”

  Of course he could. Gunner could handle anything. Handle it, and keep on going. Never showing emotion.

  While emotions were about to rip her apart.

  They didn’t immediately head for civilization. If they were being tailed, they didn’t want anyone following them.

  They changed vehicles. Once. Twice. Logan picked up the emergency cash that had been sent ahead for the mission, and only then did they head back for the coast. The sun was rising in the sky, and Sydney glanced over to see the haggard lines on Slade’s face.

  He’d aged ten years in two.

  The laughing man she’d known was gone. He’d never be coming back.

  And as for Gunner...

  His eyes weren’t meeting hers. He talked only when he had to do so, and the scent of his blood was still heavy in the air.

  She pulled her gaze from his. The jungle was behind them, the gunfire just a memory. They’d all changed clothes at their last stop. Gunner had shoved a makeshift bandage over his wound, to stop the blood from leaking through to his clothes.

  They didn’t look as if they’d just spent the night in the jungle. More as if they’d just been partying too much.

  Except for Slade. New clothes hadn’t been able to change his appearance that much. Gaunt, grizzled. He would need more care than a five-minute pit stop could give him.

  They weren’t headed back to their original resort. No, she’d made different arrangements for their accommodations postrescue. It was always important to switch bases—the better to throw off the enemy—and she’d planned for the switch.

  They were headed to villas now, private villas on the beach. High-end, far away from anything but luxury. Not a place the rebel group should think to look for government agents. And that was why it would be such a perfect hiding spot.

  Not that they’d be hiding for long. Soon enough, they’d all be heading back for the U.S.

  Logan and Cale took care of getting the keys to the villas. Three of them, all far away from the rest, nestled on a secluded strip of beach.

  Slade climbed from the vehicle, and, for a moment, he just stared at that long, stretching coast.

  Gunner followed him out, and Sydney caught the faint tremble of his body. Get the bullet out. Her gaze met Cale’s, and the ex-Ranger gave a quick nod.

  They forced Gunner into the first villa. Literally had to drag the guy in.

  But they got him in.

  “I can handle this!” Gunner muttered.

  Logan tossed Sydney a first aid bag. She caught it easily and shot a glare at Gunner. “No,” she said definitely, “you can’t.” She sucked in a breath, then ordered, “Now take off that shirt.”

  Slade, Logan and Cale were all in the villa, but it was a big space, with a living area, a kitchen and two bedrooms.

  Gunner stripped off his shirt, and the breath she’d just sucked in burned in her throat at the sight of his bloody shoulder. “Lie down, Gunner. Go get on the bed.” She hurried to the bathroom in order to get soap and water.

  When she came back, Gunner was lying tensely on the bed. Logan and Cale had Slade in the living area, giving her some privacy to work on Gunner.

  She leaned over the bed, her knee dipping into the mattress.

  Gunner caught her hand. “Don’t tell him,” he growled.

  Her eyebrows lowered. “What are you talking about?” But the tightness in her gut told her even before he said...

  “Don’t tell Slade about us.” The words seemed so cold. Or maybe she was just cold. “He doesn’t ever need to know.”

  He could have just slapped her. “What about what I need?”

  His jaw locked. “You need him, right?” he gritted out. “He was the one you loved. The one you were going to marry.”

  She pulled her hand from him and went to work cleaning his wound. She would not look into his eyes. Now she was the one who didn’t want to see what expression stared back at her.

  “I—I don’t have anything to numb the area.”

  “Pain doesn’t matter.”

  Always so tough. “Why do you have to pretend you don’t feel?” The words tore from her. “When we both know that you do.”

  “Feeling can be dangerous.”

  She hadn’t expected that answer, and, helplessly, her gaze flew back up to his.

  His dark stare was burning with emotion, with feeling.

  “So dangerous,” he whispered.

  Her heart slammed into her ribs. She put her left hand on his shoulder, carefully; then she used tweezers that she’d sterilized to go into the wound. She was lucky. No, he was. The bullet hadn’t fragmented. She pulled it out, wincing for him, but of course, the man made of steel didn’t even flinch.

  She cleaned the wound, got a better bandage and finished patching him up.

  Then she kept...touching him.

  Why was touching him such an addiction to her? Warm skin, hard muscles.

  “Don’t, Sydney.” His warning.

  A warning that came too late for her.

  She stared at his face. At his lips. She’d heard another woman once say that Gunner had cruel lips. Tight. Hard. She’d never found them to be cruel. She’d never found him to be cruel at all. Controlled and dangerous, yes. Cruel?

  Not Gunner.

  “Your lip is busted.” She reached for another cloth, blotted the blood away. “You didn’t even try to defend yourself.”

  Voices rose and fell from the outer room. Logan and Cale, questioning Slade.

  Slade.

  For months, she’d dreamed of him being found alive. Of him coming home to her. And she was glad, so glad, that he’d been rescued. She would have risked her life a dozen times to get him out of that camp.

  But...

  She would also risk her life a dozen times—gladly—for Gunner.

  That wasn’t right, was it? A woman shouldn’t feel so torn between two men.

  A man she’d once said she’d marry.

  And a man...a man who had carried her through the darkness. A man who made her ache, even now, for him.

  The door she’d shut banged open against the wall. “Sydney!”

  Slade’s voice.

  “Get away from him,” Slade ordered.

  She blinked and realized that, yes, she was pretty much draped over Gunner. Her hands were on him, and he—he wasn’t touching her with his hands. His hands had flattened against the bed.

  Slowly, she eased back and stood on her feet, deliberately positioning herself near the bed. Near Gunner.

  “Did you get the bullet?” Logan asked her, voice cautious.

  Sydney nodded. “He’s good now.”

  “No, he’s not!” Slade lunged forward, and Cale actually had to grab him and hold him back. Slade had been going forward with his hands clenched into fists and rage blazing in
his eyes. “He’s a bastard who deserves to suffer!”

  “He just saved you,” Logan said, putting his body right in front of Slade’s. “Listen, I understand that you’ve been through hell—”

  Slade’s brittle laughter broke through his words. “You understand nothing. You hear me? Nothing! You think that guy over there is your friend? That you can trust him? Hell, no, you can’t. He’ll turn on you, just like he turned on me.” Spittle flew from his mouth.

  Gunner eased from the bed. He was shirtless but still wearing his pants and boots.

  His body brushed by Sydney’s as he headed toward Slade.

  “Yeah, yeah, come on!” Slade dared him. “Fight me like a man. Take me on...and don’t just leave me to rot in a jungle like you did before!”

  Leave me to rot...

  “He didn’t!” Sydney cried out, shaking her head. “Slade, we thought you were dead! That was the only reason we left. If we’d known the truth, we would never have left you in that jungle.”

  His twisted grin called her words a lie. “He knew.”

  What?

  Slade pulled away from Cale and pointed one shaking finger at Gunner. “That bastard, my brother, knew.”

  Sydney shook her head.

  Gunner just stared back at Slade.

  “It’s easy enough to tell if a man’s breathing or not,” Slade continued. “Especially for someone with Gunner’s special training.”

  Sydney took a step forward. “We both thought you were dead! We were in a firefight. You went down, and there was so much blood...”

  Slade yanked open his shirt, revealed the scars on his chest. She knew those marks. Bullet wounds. “I was down, not dead.” Then he looked back up at Gunner. “But you were hoping I’d die, right? Just leave me to bleed out, and that way, you never had to get your hands dirty.”

  This was crazy.

  She met Logan’s stare. Logan looked...angry? But guarded. Why? He was Gunner’s friend. He knew better than to believe these accusations. They all knew better. “You’re traumatized,” she told Slade. “Not thinking clearly. When we get back to the States, everything will be—”

  “He wanted you.”

  The words fell heavily into the room.

  Gunner tensed. She saw the muscles of his chest and shoulders tighten.