by Zoe Dawson
He bellowed and rushed her. Ready for his brute force move, Paige easily sidestepped his dash, using her foot to kick him in the ass and knock him off balance. He crashed into the wall with a grunt. With a howl of rage, he rushed her again. Swinging at her, with a powerful punch, she knew if it hit her face, he’d probably break her jaw. She ducked, kicked, and struck out with the side of her hand, a stunning blow knocking him down. He stayed down for a few seconds, then raised his head, shaking it like a wet dog. The man couldn’t shake it hard enough to get some sense in it.
He reached out and grabbed her leg, jerking her with such force, she landed hard onto her back. He scrambled to get on top of her, but she had the presence of mind to bring up her knees, and using her feet, she propelled him violently off her using her legs as a powerful fulcrum.
She flipped up to her feet from her back, a move her instructor told her would come in handy. She turned, running for the gun, but he caught her from behind. She went with the hold, turning into it and bringing her leg up and out in a stunning roundhouse kick that went straight to Dean’s solar plexus. He went down hard, doubled over.
He was trying not to kill her because he wanted her alive which was not a comfort. Far from it. The realization only spurred her on to fight harder, faster against him. He was holding back and that was her advantage. But she had no qualms about killing him.
She was good, but Dean was a warrior and sooner or later he was going to gain the advantage. She’d gotten in a couple of powerful hits, even heard something crack, but she wasn’t going to hold him off forever. She was drenched in sweat. Her head was ringing from one of his blows she had been just a tad too slow to block. He was hard on the attack now.
Block. Parry. Strike.
She was running out of time, barely keeping him at bay. He grabbed her around the waist and squeezed. She cried out and boxed his ears, sending him reeling away from her, but his fist connected with her chin and she collapsed to the floor. She had to get up, run.
Time slowed.
She heard a hissing sound, instantly followed by a loud snap as the door burst open, banging against the wall.
Dean struggled up, a murderous look on his face. He didn’t care anymore about not hurting her, killing her. It was in the chilling, cold depths of his eyes, but two quick successive shots all but blew his head off.
Blood spattered. Dean stumbled back.
Kid Chaos.
He stood silhouetted in the doorframe like a phantom in the pale mist, his hands clasped around the subgun.
“Paige.” His gaze locked on her as he dropped the weapon and rushed to her, sliding to the floor and gathering her in his arms. She buried her face in his chest, breathing hard and letting his strength wrap her.
“I knew you’d come for me.”
Above her Ashe closed his eyes, rubbing her spine, his usually steady heartbeat racing.
She tipped her head back and met his gaze. In a breath, he was on her, his mouth rolling heavily over hers, his hands riding up her back to lodge in her hair. She wanted it, wanted more. She wanted so much freaking more. And from one heartbeat to the next, she realized that working hard, giving up everything meant jack shit. Giving yourself, building something, making a life was what she wanted. Not the barren existence she’d been living. Ashe showed her that affection and attention didn’t come from giving up everything, it came from giving everything. Everything.
“We’ve got to go, now,” he said and both of them froze. The faint whop, whop, whop of a helicopter’s rotors broke the quiet of the night.
“The SEALs,” she said. “Oh, my God. We won’t make it in time.”
Then together they said, “The ATVs.” The ones they’d stashed in the jungle when they were investigating the rebels. He went to Dean, took the gun holstered at his hip along with any ammunition he had on him.
He turned poised to run and then he stopped, grabbed Dean’s rifle. “Ah, Dean had been the sniper that had killed those Bolivian police. Hello, baby,” he crooned. He shoved the subgun into her arms and took up the rifle, slinging it over his back. “Now we’re talking,” he said confidently, then they were off and running.
Cowboy thought about his conversation with Kid. About going home, about what Kid had said about his father. Cowboy thought again about his own circumstances and going home after this op was over. As a teenager, he’d had the big kind of shoes to fill as Kid did, only Cowboy’s father hadn’t been in the military. He’d been a hard-core, bucking-bronc-breaking, cattle roping, calf branding, fence riding cowboy. The real deal. He was also one tough son of a bitch. His regret was just as real.
His gut churned and had nothing to do with the op and everything to do with his disgrace and shame by association. The father he’d looked up to had destroyed not only his own reputation, but Cowboy’s as well.
They were getting closer to the DZ and the Kirikhan rebels, and not a SEAL on this bird didn’t know everything there was to know about them. They were a pain in NATO’s ass, hooking up with terrorists. Killing civilians and blowing up shit all over the world to draw attention to their cause. They were ruthless, fought to the death, and were happy to kill anything in a uniform.
It was just the six of them deployed off the USS Annenberg—Ruckus, Hollywood, Scarecrow, Blue, and Wicked. Tank had stayed back with Echo. As Cowboy peered out the chopper’s porthole, he saw jagged peaks, then deep, dark lush jungle, with dots of livestock he thought were sheep and a couple of llamas. As they reached their destination, the all go came through the comms. Cowboy scanned the terrain below, then he saw it, the downed plane wedged up against a thick tangle of trees, the chewed-up scar a great place to set down a chopper.
We’re almost there, Kid.
Something streaked across the bow of the chopper.
“RPG. Evasive maneuvers!” The co-pilot yelled. Cowboy stiffened. Hollywood pulled open the door and braced his feet on the runner. He set the .50 cal to his shoulder and started shooting.
Cowboy hated it when his enemies started connecting to each other and there was no doubt this mission was compromised. It made the hair rise on the back of his neck, because if there was one thing he and his team didn’t believe in besides unicorns and the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, it was coincidences of any kind.
Kid had saved his ass in the Darién Gap, and now it was his turn to have his back, and the Kirikhan rebels were just about to get a taste of a fully operational Wes McGraw. A hard-core, bucking-bronc-breaking, cattle roping, calf branding, fence riding cowboy. One tough son of a bitch.
But, Dad, you and I had a very different view of honor.
As they dodged another RPG, and Hollywood continued to sling hot lead, Cowboy was just waiting for touchdown, then it was game on. Hoo-yah.
When they reached the ATVs, Kid said, “You drive.” She mounted the oversized small four-wheeler and Kid slid on behind her. She took off and headed straight to the crash site at full throttle. The woman was just as fearless as he was.
Just as she broke out of the trees, there was a pocket of rebels and several of them had tubes to their shoulders. Kid rose as she raced over the rough terrain, planting his feet on either side of her, bracing himself against the runners. He tapped her shoulder twice, and she slowed the vehicle down a few notches.
He sighted on one of the rebels and took a breath, then held it, aiming for body mass. He squeezed the trigger, automatically compensating for movement and the jerking motion. The man dropped, and there was a shout. Several of them turned toward the ATV and opened fire, One of the men with another RPG shot off a rocket right at them. It missed its mark, but was enough to flip the vehicle and knock them both to the ground.
Dirt and rocks rained down on them, momentarily stunned. “Paige?”
“I’m fine.”
Automatic gunfire chewed up the ground next to them. He grabbed her arm, and they scrambled over to the ATV that was now on its side. The Black Hawk was still airborne, and Kid smiled when he heard the .
50 cal. Hollywood was throwing lead.
He turned to her. “I need you to lay some cover for me.” She nodded and prepared to pop up and keep the rebels at bay. They had taken cover behind the plane. As soon as Paige started open firing, he rose and picked off as many as he could through the scope.
Well that took about five minutes to go straight to hell.
So much for all his well-laid plans for the night, all his running around like a goddamn chicken trying to keep all the other chickens out of trouble.
The area between the plane and the rebels, including Anderson didn’t offer much cover. But Kid was going to run that bastard to ground. It was part of Paige’s mission to bring in the man responsible for those MPs’ deaths. Dean was dead and Reggie was most likely gone, too. So that left only Anderson to take the fall.
It was clear the woman beside him had combat training. NCIS agents were assault ready, but she was damned impressive. He was breathless at the speed with which she acquired a new target and kept them pinned down, desperate to get off their own bursts of rapid fire.
The Black Hawk landed now that the RPG threat was neutralized. He saw the SEALs deploying. It would be a matter of time before this was mopped up.
“Anderson,” she said low and determined, jamming another clip into the magazine, then rubbing at the right side of her chest. Kid saw a figure break from the plane and race off into the night. Paige didn’t hesitate. With bullets still flying, she broke cover and sprinted after him. Cowboy shifted their way, his gun coming up, training on her racing form. Kid shouted as he chased after her and Cowboy lowered his weapon.
It was time to bag Anderson, and he was going to make sure that he covered Paige’s back.
16
Anderson ran. This whole fucking thing coming down on his head. Tonight that NCIS bitch and Pete Wilder’s kid had bested him, killing off those ruthless rebels like they were Boy Scouts. It was time to cut his losses. He had a chopper waiting along with the warheads and the other half of the salvaged weapons. He’d still get his payday, talk the Golovkin buyer into a better deal.
After this score, he decided it was time to retire. Maybe a beautiful, tropical location where he could grow coffee. Yeah, maybe it was time to get out while the getting was good.
He knew things, people. He was connected. His twenty-five years with the CIA had given him a network of informants, government officials, criminal bosses, warlords, drug lords and some of the lowest bottom feeders on the planet. When he got clear, he was putting a bounty on both of their heads. Paige Sinclair and Ashe Wilder wouldn’t live past the month.
He also knew assassins.
If Cris and his family had survived, he was going to do that one personal, kill the beautiful wife and children in front of him and let him live. That would be something that would give him great satisfaction while he enjoyed the tropical sun on the veranda of his plantation. Cris had screwed him over in this mess of a deal.
He also had an ace in the hole. His Washington, DC contact.
He had enough dirt on the guy to make sure things happened.
Paige’s blood was running hot and fast, pumping through her veins as she pursued Anderson, the monster was in her sights. If he thought he was getting away with all this, with murder, he had another think coming.
The night and the jungle slid by her on either side. Ashe called out her name, but she kept on running. She had to finish this.
Behind her there was a burst of gunfire, and when she glanced over her shoulder, she saw Ashe on one knee, taking out pursuing figures. Dark silhouettes were moving toward her, too. The SEALs. In the distance, she could see the chopper. As soon as Anderson broke from the trees in front of her, the rotors started turning.
Anderson turned, and she saw the glint off the pistol he carried. He discharged the weapon, and the bullet missed her. Off to her left, several men came running, opening fire on her. By this time, those dark silhouettes had caught up to them. Kid was almost to her position. The SEALs opened fire as well, and the rebels ignored her and faced the larger threat.
She stumbled, but righted herself. Anderson was almost to the chopper. But she had gained on him. Her breath was labored, the thin air slowing her down, shortness of breath would be expected. But she had acclimated. Maybe it was because she had been running full out.
With a whine and a roar, the chopper took off, and Anderson screamed at the top of his lungs. They had to have seen the SEALs bearing down on them. Most of their troops killed or being systematically taken out, they had cut him loose.
He stopped and set his hands on his knees, knowing he had nowhere to go. She caught up to him, keeping the automatic weapon trained on him, the adrenaline rushing through her in waves. Her heart beating hard, her breathing strenuous.
Anderson turned and scowled at her. “You fucking bitch!” he yelled, then dropped the weapon, raising his hands in the air. With Ashe and the SEALs covering him, she walked up to him. “Bryant Anderson, you are under arrest for the theft of government property, for treason in selling those weapons to the enemy of the United States, and for the murder of Corporal Ronald Miller, Corporal David Hong, and Petty Officer Peter Wilder.”
Her stomach lurched and sweat poured down her face. She felt dizzy, and the right side of her body pulsed with pain, getting worse and worse. She turned and tried to walk. Oh God. She dragged a breath into her lungs—and it hurt, just like everything else.
She took a halting step and gasped, the pain building up in her. The next step felt like when they had taken that leap off the cliff to the river below. Falling…she was falling.
“Paige!”
She hit the ground and tried to push up. If she could just get to her feet, she would be okay. She used Ashe for leverage, dragged her feet beneath her, the whole world was going black and white with every passing second, her attempts to breathe tortuous.
“Ashe, I’m all right.”
“Shh, babe. Shh. I’m here.” His arms came around her, strong but gentle, helping her, sliding behind her back and holding her upright.
“Geezus,” Cowboy said. “She been hit?” He turned and called out. “Blue!”
“Ashe, I—” She wanted to hold on, to hold on to him, to hold on to herself, but she couldn’t.
She was sliding inside, slipping away. She started to tremble—tremble and shake, right down to her veins, right down to her pulse, her heart, and her bones.
“I’ve got you,” he said, tightening his hold before she was gently laid down on the ground, her shirt ripped open and a gorgeous man with gray eyes leaned over her.
“No blood, but this bruise. Was there an explosion?”
“Yes, an RPG, but we were okay. Now she can’t breathe.”
“I think her lung is collapsing. Get the chopper here. She needs to get to a hospital.”
“Paige,” Ashe said, his voice so soft, so anguished. “Stay with me, babe. Don’t go.”
“I-I can’t. I—”
“Fuck can’t, babe,” he growled, “That’s not in our vocabulary. You hang on.”
She couldn’t breathe anymore, her breath trapped, pain twisting inside her.
With the last of her strength, she grabbed Kid’s arm as she saw the Black Hawk hovering above her like a big, black insect. “Tell them I love them.”
“You’re going to tell them yourself.”
She closed her eyes and that beautiful man with the golden blond buzz cut and the clear, pure gray eyes said, “One patient, adult female, semi-conscious. Tension pneumothorax. Code Red.”
With his head in his hands, Kid sat by her bedside. It had been hours, he’d lost track. Unable to sleep or eat…hell, it felt like he was the one who couldn’t breathe. The blast from the RPG’s shock waves had hit her and caused internal trauma, collapsing her right lung, but thanks to Blue’s amazing medical skills and his needle decompression of Paige’s chest cavity, he’d kept her alive until they got to the closest hospital. She was breathing easily with no permanent damage.
They had to insert a chest tube, until her lung healed. Now all she had to do was recover.
A hand curled around his wrist and his head popped up. Paige, her eyes glazed stared at him. “You look like hell, a gorgeous dark angel,” she whispered.
His throat got thick, and he covered her delicate hand. “Paige,” he said softly. He had no idea where she wanted to go from here. He was hoping that she was going to tell him that when they got back to San Diego, they could at least date. He knew this was supposed to be temporary and without being able to help it, he felt the pressure of his job sliding between them. He would have to warn her about his deployments, his absence had caused the two women in his life to leave him, one had given him back his ring and the other had thrown him over for a safe banker.
Kid Chaos wasn’t safe.
He wasn’t easy.
He was in love with her. He’d never knew what it really meant to be in love, not until now, not until her. Fear of losing her to death was now replaced with just simple fear of losing her in his life.
He was a crazy bastard.
But she had made him see that his boldness was just a part of him. He had weathered the information about his father, but before he could fully put that behind him, he had another trip to make, but that could wait.
She drifted, her eyes closing. “Paige? Where do you want to go from here?”
She sighed and her eyes blinked a couple of times, then closed. He thought she’d gone to sleep when she whispered, “Only temporary.”
His heart plummeted, shredded, turned over and tightened in his chest as it shriveled into something hard and aching. She was reminding him they had decided to keep it simple. He’d agreed.
He closed his burning eyes, as they stung, his throat feeling full. “All right,” he said. Just then there was a commotion at the door and a man walked through with three men flanking him.
He rushed over to the bed and grasped her hand as she opened her eyes. Tears welling, he said softly, “Baby. How are you?”