by Jo Davis
Nearing the perimeter, they fanned out and crept slowly, weapons at the ready. B-team took the lead, an occasional soft, muffled grunt of surprise sounding from the darkness. Taking out the enemy, one traitor at a time. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on the main piece of shit.
As they neared the house he spotted a guard leaning against a tree, obviously bored and not paying attention. He glanced over at Byrd and gestured to the distracted guard to indicate he’d take care of this one. Just as he stepped up right behind the man, the guy turned and sucked in a deep breath as though to yell a warning, going for the gun on his hip.
The guard was too slow. Blaze slammed the butt of the M16 into the side of the man’s head and watched him slump to the ground. “Nighty-night,” he whispered, and smiled grimly. He’d need a lot more than ibuprofen when he woke up—he’d need a good lawyer.
He nodded at Byrd, and they split off together, circling around the back of the house. Byrd knocked out another guard and dragged him behind a big potted plant, giving the unconscious body a boot in the side for good measure. Blaze crouched beside a shrub and turned his attention to a wall of windows overlooking the property. The drapes were closed, hindering their view, but in the yellow glow from within he could barely make out shapes moving around. It was impossible to tell how many people were inside, but he knew to be prepared for anything.
He motioned to Byrd, indicating they should get close to the house—
A body tackled him from behind, a beefy arm going around his neck. The unseen enemy had probably planned to twist and break his neck, but his forward momentum hurled them both to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Blaze managed to maneuver onto his back, but the bastard was on him in an instant, a huge hunting knife slashing toward his throat.
Seizing the man’s wrist, he stopped the blade from slicing too deep, rolled, and twisted the arm. Bone cracked, and his enemy let out a cry, dropping the knife. Without hesitating, he scooped up the weapon and slit the guard’s throat, jaw clenching at the spray of blood and the awful gurgling noise.
The guard clutched at his neck for a few seconds, and then his hand fell to the ground. His eyes glazed as he stared at the moonlight without seeing. Blaze allowed himself a moment of regret for a life taken by his hand, but the man had made his choice the day he threw in his lot with terrorists.
Wiping off the blade in the grass, he shoved it in his boot for safekeeping. Byrd, who hadn’t moved and obviously hadn’t had any doubt that Blaze could handle the attacker alone, gave him a thumbs-up. With the threat dispatched, they continued their slow progress toward the house, keeping cover in dark shadows, behind trees and bushes.
Halfway there, they heard voices from inside the house. Loud. Anxious. Blaze held up a hand, and they stopped, listening.
Yeah, someone was shouting. Upset. Through a part in one set of drapes, he could see a figure pace by the window but couldn’t make out the man’s identity. Movement inside increased, more voices entering the fray.
For a second he thought their presence had been discovered, but it didn’t have that type of vibe. He was certain B-team had successfully removed the guards stationed outside with no time for an alarm to be raised. What the hell was going on?
Just as he was about to motion to Byrd, a patio door to the left, which was situated in an area a few rooms away from where the excitement was taking place, slid open quietly. Two figures stole into the darkness and struck out across the lawn. A man dressed as a guard, and a woman.
Even though she wore a ball cap, no doubt to cover her short, silvery blond hair, he’d know her form anywhere. Emma.
She was escaping with the aid of an unknown man, and they were in a hurry. Blaze rose from his spot with the intention of intercepting them, sending them safely to one of the waiting choppers, when three guards burst from the house, shouting.
The guards spied the fleeing couple, and weapons were raised. The man with Emma pushed her behind him and raised his own weapon, ready to defend them.
And that’s when all hell really broke loose.
Seven
At ten minutes after midnight, Emma was starting to get nervous. Really freaked. J.C. wouldn’t be late unless something was wrong, and if anything happened to him, she’d never forgive herself. He shouldn’t have tried to help her, and she should never have agreed to—
And then he was there, coming through the door, handing her a gun. “Take this.”
She took the weapon from him, heaving a ragged sigh. “Where have you been?”
“I was on my way up, but Dietz and a couple of his top dogs were arguing about something. I listened for a few minutes to get the gist, and it seems a couple of them want to move the weapon. Dietz doesn’t want to take the chance, insisting it’s safe where it is ‘at the Liberation compound,’ in his words.”
“So now we know without a doubt that it isn’t here. Now all we have to do is find out where this compound is and retrieve the thing.”
“No, what we do right now is get the hell out. I think Dietz was about to come for you when he was waylaid by this argument. Ready?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Let’s move.”
She followed him, the gun feeling strange in her hand. Not that she didn’t know how to use one if necessary, but her job didn’t usually require her to be armed. She’d been in the field only twice to witness her creations in action, and even then she hadn’t needed to draw a weapon. But if it came down to her or the bad guys, she knew the one she’d pick.
Her companion went in the opposite direction from the main stairs, and she hoped he had a good alternative route. She wasn’t disappointed.
He led her to a staircase in a quieter part of the house, away from the faint noise of raised voices. They descended slowly, treading lightly, ears strained for any sound that might indicate they’d been discovered.
At the bottom, J.C. gestured to his left, and they tiptoed through a couple of turns until he steered them toward an empty, darkened room. Just as they reached the open doorway, three guards rounded the corner at the end of the hall, and he pushed her through.
“I think they saw us,” she hissed.
“Shit.”
Together they hurried for the glass patio door, and J.C. slid it open, urging her out. They rushed into the night, and she wanted to ask what his plan was, how they were going to get off the premises, but there was no time. The details could wait.
Then, disaster.
“Stop right there!”
“Freeze!”
Oh, no! “J.C.—”
Her companion whirled, pushing her behind him, and brought up his weapon. She stumbled and looked toward the house to see three guards doing the same, and in the next split second, the staccato bark of rapid gunfire rent the air. J.C. jerked and went down on one knee, returning fire.
“Emma, run!”
“No!” she screamed. Three on one wasn’t fair odds, and she wasn’t about to leave him to be slaughtered. Raising her arm, she was about to fire her weapon when more gunfire came from another direction. She waited for the inevitable agony of bullets ripping through her body, but it never came.
Instead, the three guards slumped to the patio in a hail of bullets and lay unmoving. Footsteps pounded toward her and J.C., and it took Emma a second to process the appearance of the big, imposing man in the lead. Tall, dark, broad-shouldered, hair pulled back in a ponytail . . .
“Emma!” the man bellowed. “Are you all right?”
“Blaze?” She blinked at the apparition that stepped up and grabbed her by the shoulders. “How did you—”
“Thank God you’re all right, baby.” He crushed her to his chest, kissed the top of her head, and said hoarsely, “Doesn’t matter how right now. Byrd’s going to get you and your friend to the chopper while the rest of us take care of Dietz and his buddies inside.”
She glanced at this man, Byrd, and burrowed into her man. “Why can’t you come with us?”
“Because I owe th
at slimy bastard for taking my woman, that’s why.” He pulled away and crouched in front of J.C., placing a hand on his shoulder. “You gonna make it?”
“Yeah,” her friend said, panting, expression strained. “Took one in the thigh, but I’ll be okay.”
“Good. Who do I have to thank for taking care of my girl?”
J.C. hesitated, giving Blaze a wary look, but evidently decided to come clean. “Special Agent Jackson Collins, FBI. My friends call me J.C.”
“Agent Collins, you have my undying gratitude. Next time you need a favor, you have only to ask.” Cutting off any protest the man might’ve made, Blaze turned to Byrd. “Get them out of here. I’ll help the others round up our traitors.”
“Will do.”
She wanted to cling, demand that he return with them, but this was a mission, not date night. Instead, she accepted the kiss he pressed to her lips and let him go, worried as hell about what must be going on in the house by now and what Blaze would be facing. Because Dietz surely had heard the commotion. Why hadn’t anyone inside come running?
Blaze’s bald friend slung one of J.C.’s arms over his big shoulders, hoisted him to his feet, and started off, herding her away as well. She glanced back to see Blaze disappear into the house and out of sight, and sent up a fervent prayer that he’d be fine.
He’d come for her. Just like she knew he would.
The knowledge sent a warm rush through her veins, filled her with happiness . . . until her night with J.C. hit her with a slap. Despite Blaze’s assertion that sex was natural, she worried that he’d see her actions as a betrayal.
Were they? Especially considering his lifestyle and the stuff he’d said about sharing? And they weren’t even officially a couple again, right? They’d agreed to see how things went—nothing more.
It was all too confusing, and she was exhausted from stress, thinking she might not survive to ever face these issues with him. She was hardly aware of placing one foot in front of the other, and before she knew it, they’d reached a clearing where two black helicopters waited.
Byrd helped J.C. into one of them, and she climbed in after them, wincing at the blood oozing from his thigh between his fingers. The flow appeared sluggish, but that didn’t do much to alleviate her worry. He deserved better than to die protecting someone who wasn’t his problem.
The pilot started the engine, and Emma jumped, looking at Byrd in alarm. “Aren’t we waiting for the others?”
“Ross will send another transport,” he said, grabbing a first-aid kit. “We need to get our Fed buddy back to SHADO and have McKay fix him up before we send him home to momma.”
She nodded her understanding. While his wound might not be life-threatening, J.C. didn’t really look great, and it was best not to take any chances.
J.C. shot Byrd a sickly smile. “Thanks.”
“No problem. You saved one of ours, so we return the favor.”
“What’s SHADO?” J.C. asked, curious in spite of his pain.
“Need to know only.” Byrd gave him a dangerous grin. “If I told you, I’d hafta let you bleed out.”
“In that case, never mind. I like breathing.”
She watched Byrd cut her friend’s pants up the seam and pull the material from the wound. J.C. grimaced as the other man began to wrap the leg tightly. To distract him, she asked, “Out of curiosity, how were you going to get us away from here if all had gone well?”
“I appropriated one of Dietz’s cars and stashed it off a country road about a mile from the house. I figured we’d get there and make a clean getaway. I’m sorry I fucked up.”
“No, you did what you could. It was a good plan.”
“Except for the part about getting caught,” Byrd added, needling him.
“Shit. Does that have to be so tight?”
“Yep. Sit back and enjoy the ride or I’ll have to give you something to knock you out. Like my fist.”
“Your bedside manner needs improving.”
“At least you’re alive to bitch about it.”
Suddenly, she glanced around in surprise. Although she hated flying in a helicopter, between the adrenaline and listening to the two men spar, she hadn’t even noticed they were airborne and under way. Wonders never ceased.
Now, if Blaze would return to SHADO safe and sound, they might finally set themselves on the right path together.
A girl could dream.
It was past four in the morning before Blaze dragged his tired, disgusted ass to the compound’s hospital to get his scratch tended. He didn’t think it needed any special attention, but Rivera wouldn’t hear of it. Nobody on his op was going home without getting their boo-boos fixed, period.
Jesus. He just wanted to get out of here and find Emma. Holding her was the only thing that would fix everything that had gone wrong with this night. Well, almost everything.
He shuffled to the desk, thinking it was too much to hope for that she’d hung around waiting for him to get back. She’d probably already been debriefed and was home by now, sleeping soundly under an armed watch. Or Michael might have ordered her to stay here at the compound in one of the spare living quarters, where it was safer.
“Blaze!”
He jerked his head around and saw her jogging toward him, beautiful face lined with worry. He barely had time to hold out his arms, and she was in his embrace, alternately squeezing the stuffing out of him and peppering his face with kisses.
“Oh, my God! I’m so glad you’re all right,” she said. “When hours went by and you guys didn’t come back, I was beside myself.”
“You were concerned about me? After being kidnapped and held hostage by that asshole? No, baby, I’m fine. It’s you I care about.”
“I’m okay, but you’re most certainly not! What happened to your neck?” Frowning, she gingerly touched the red, angry four-inch line on his throat, caked with dried blood. “I didn’t notice this in the dark.”
“Just a scuffle with a scumbag. He lost.”
“I’d hate to see what he looks like. God, he could’ve killed you,” she said in a quiet voice.
“Well, he didn’t, and he won’t ever be able to hurt anyone again.”
“Like Dietz.” She gazed into his eyes. “You did apprehend him, right?”
Jaw clenching, he looked away. “No. We got inside the house, and he’d vanished, along with a couple of men. They must’ve had some sort of secret way out in case of discovery.”
She appeared as disheartened as he felt. “Damn that slippery bastard! What about the guards?”
“Got most of them, and they’re in the jail below, under double security because of the breakout. None of them are talking yet, but they haven’t yet been subjected to our brand of persuasion.”
“It didn’t work with Dietz,” she pointed out.
“No, but things are getting desperate. SHADO has been authorized by the president to use whatever means are necessary to extract the information. The gloves are off now.”
“I’m sure I don’t want to know what that means.”
“You probably don’t, but you may not have a choice. You’re involved, and I have a feeling Michael is still going to want you undercover, with or without me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Of course I’ll be with you.”
“There’s a good chance you won’t. Michael ordered me to remain behind when they went to rescue you. I happened to disagree.” Now that she was safe, he dreaded the thought of her working with anyone else, especially on this assignment.
“Oh, Blaze,” she groaned. “Why would you do something so stupid? I’m sure the team had it under control.”
He stiffened at her remark. “Sure. Except I’m the one who helped Byrd take out those three goons who were about to gun down you and your new buddy. Where is he, by the way?”
“J.C.? In recovery. They did surgery to remove the bullet, and he’s going to be fine. I wanted to hang around here until they’d let me see for myself, though.”
; “Yeah, I’ll bet.” Okay, that came out more like a snarl than he’d intended. But dammit, it was quite a blow to learn she hadn’t been here waiting for him after all. Instead, she was here waiting on her new buddy—with whom she was apparently on a first-name basis. And was that guilt in those big blue eyes? Fuck.
“What’s wrong with making sure the man who saved my life is okay?”
“He saved your life? I think I might’ve helped just a little,” he growled.
“Of course you did! Don’t you think I know that? I just mean that J.C. doesn’t have anyone here for him. Well, not until the FBI or someone else arrives to stay with him and then take him home.” She gave him a slight frown. “Would you begrudge him when he watched over me the whole time and made sure I was safe?”
“No. But is that all he did?”
There it was. The guilty deer-in-the-headlights look. Ah, goddamn.
You reap what you sow, Kelly. What are you gonna do now, idiot?
“Never mind,” he said, holding up a hand. “It doesn’t matter.”
She wrung her hands. “Blaze, I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be. You did what you had to do . . . and so did I.” Her eyes rounded at that. Wasn’t True Confessions fun?
“You were with another woman?” she whispered, mouth trembling.
“No, not a woman.” He watched her figure it out, emotions playing on her face.
“Then what—oh.” She blinked at him owlishly. “Who was it?”
“I’m not sure I should say. It might make things awkward for him.” He sighed. “It wasn’t planned. We were both under an extraordinary amount of stress, and it just happened. I’m not trying to make an excuse, but we both had a need and took what we wanted. It wasn’t smart, and it probably won’t happen again, but I can’t change it.”
“You know, just a few weeks ago I wouldn’t have understood.” Her cheeks flushed, but she held his gaze.
“And now you do?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I guess we have a lot to talk about when we get away from here.”
“Do we?”
“Or not.” She shrugged, looking lost. “Hell, I never know what the rules are with you.”