Sloane heard a commotion coming from the direction of the shack. She looked up to see Soma crouched, shielded by men, and Gina, running for the plane.
Sloane shifted her aim and fired at the near wing of the small plane. The round ripped through the wing and fuel spewed out in an arcing spray. She was about to fire again and try to ignite the fuel, but a quick check through her scope showed her that Gina was too close to the plane to risk it.
The stocky man shouted an order, pointing toward Sloane’s general location. Several machine guns spun her way and a hail of gunfire ripped through the leaves.
Sloane pressed her head to the ground, hoping none of the shots got lucky. Not that she’d care if they did. She’d be dead, because the only thing the bullets could hit was her head.
The deep boom of Lucas’s .45 echoed from below.
She looked up and saw him duck behind the shack to avoid a volley of bullets.
The plane’s engine started. Gina was gone from sight. So was Soma. The only way to stop them now was to keep shooting the plane, but with Gina on it, Sloane couldn’t take that chance. If she ignited the fuel, the whole thing could go up in flames.
Besides, men were running toward Lucas. If she didn’t stop them, he was a dead man. And she only had three rounds left in her rifle before she had to waste time reloading.
Sloane targeted the man closest to Lucas’s position, aimed, and fired. His sprint put her aim off, and she only winged him in the arm. He fell, but wasn’t injured enough to stop him from lifting his weapon at Lucas.
She fired again, and this time, he didn’t move.
Sloane took her last shot, hit one of the men in the hip, but didn’t wait to see if he went down or not. She had to reload.
By the time she had a fresh magazine in place, Lucas was gone. She had no idea where he went, and the sudden spurt of panic that hit her made her hands tremble.
One of the men had figured out her location and was running toward her, using the lull in her shots to get close—close enough that he was a real threat.
Ensconced behind a stack of cement blocks, with only the barrel of his weapon visible, Sloane had no shot.
The plane lifted from the ground, roaring over the trees so low Sloane felt it rattle in her chest.
Gina was gone. Lucas was missing, and if she didn’t take this fucker out, she was a dead woman.
Four men sprinted toward their buddy—the one who’d figured out where she was. She couldn’t get a clean shot, but she fired her weapon anyway, causing them to hit the ground. It wasn’t doing her any good, but it was slowing them down, giving her time to find a clean shot.
Her mind was clogged with fear and worry. Was Gina’s plane going to go down because she’d shot it? Was Lucas injured, bleeding out somewhere nearby?
Stop it.
She ordered herself to suck it up, calm down, and move the fuck on. She had things to do.
Sloane found a sliver of calm and focused on that, making herself go through the motions. Acquire her target, aim, breathe, fire, repeat.
Another man fell, but the one behind the cement blocks was still a problem.
Dirt spewed up only a yard away from her face.
Sloane ignored it and found another target. It took two shots to finish him off, and by the time she did, the dirt geyser was only two feet away.
Time for a retreat, but to where? She couldn’t leave Lucas alone out here if he was injured.
She grabbed her rifle off the tripod and took cover behind a thick tree. She slung the rifle strap over her shoulder and pulled out her 9mm pistol. At this distance, it was just as lethal and a lot easier to handle.
Bark exploded to the left of her shoulder as the men fired on her location.
Her first shot was blind, hopefully making the men duck and cover while she popped her head around the trunk and took a sighted shot.
Her aim wasn’t great, but she got close enough to keep one of the men pinned.
Suddenly, her target flew sideways as another deep boom sliced through the air.
Lucas. He was okay—at least okay enough to pull a trigger.
She let herself rejoice, let it give her courage as she popped out again and found another target. This time, her aim was good and the guard grunted in pain. She hadn’t killed him with a shot to the shoulder like that, but it was his right shoulder, so she figured his aim would be for suck from here on out.
He crawled back behind the cement barricade to join his buddy.
“Got a clear shot?” yelled Lucas.
“No. You?”
“Get ready. On three.”
Sloane immediately started counting in her head. One. Two. Three.
She peeked around the tree, bracing herself for anything. What she saw was Lucas stand up, visible as daylight, drawing the fire of the man behind the barrier.
Panic seized her hard as she realized he was going to get himself killed.
Without thinking, she charged the barrier, running. Elevation gave her just the scantest view of the top of a man’s head. She took aim, firing as fast as the weapon would allow.
The enemy fired. Lucas grunted in pain and fell backward.
Sloane screamed in rage, running toward the gunman. Her third shot plowed into the man’s skull, and a pink vapor erupted into the air.
There was still one more man behind the cement blocks, but by the time she got there, his hands were raised in surrender. Tears streamed down his face; blood soaked his shoulder. Fast, desperate words bubbled from his mouth as he begged for his life or prayed to God. Maybe both.
Sloane couldn’t pull the trigger. Not now.
She kicked the weapons away from him and pointed at a spot on the ground a few feet away. “Lie down.”
He hobbled and sat, his whole body shaking. He must not have understood her words, but it would have to do.
Sloane kept her weapon on him and eyes wide-open, looking for signs of any other survivors.
The need to go to Lucas and check on him screamed through her body, but she didn’t dare turn her back on this man with so many weapons lying about.
She went to the dead man, searched him for handcuffs or something she could use to tie the man up with. She found nothing.
There was nothing else she could do on the spur of the moment. Her plastic handcuffs were back with her gear and Lucas might be bleeding out. She wasn’t going to take the time to go back for them.
She approached her prisoner, and with a hard, brutal blow to the back of the head, knocked him unconscious.
Without dwelling on her actions too long, she sprinted over to where she saw Lucas fall. She passed the shack, where she saw three men lying dead—men she hadn’t killed. Lucas’s handiwork.
She veered around the building until she neared the place she’d seen him last. He was in amongst the fallen leaves and rotting vegetation. She could hear him wheezing. He wasn’t dead.
Relief made her body feel heavy as she closed the last few feet.
He was on his side, propping himself up on one elbow. Blood ran down the back of his head.
She moved around to his front, searching for signs of the gunshot wound. Her throat was too tight to speak. Her fingers trembled visibly as they moved over his face and chest and arms.
“Vest,” he wheezed out. “I’m okay.”
Sloane ripped open the straps on his protective vest. She shoved his shirt up, revealing bare skin. He was whole and healthy, though a bruise was already forming along his ribs.
“The shot knocked the wind out of me,” said Lucas. “I hit my head.”
Which would explain the blood.
She forced herself to calm down. Breathe. Let her panic fade so she could react. She moved behind him and gently inspected the damage. “There’s a small cut on your scalp, but it’s bleeding like hell. Stay put. I’ll go get the first aid kit.”
He pushed to his feet. “I’m going with you. I’m okay to walk.”
Sloane wasn’t so sure, but she refuse
d to argue with a grown man. Instead, she looped his arm around her and shoved her shoulder under his to support him.
He looked down at her and gave her a forced smile. “If I’d known all I had to do was get shot to have you hold on to me, I would have done it sooner.”
She stifled the urge to smack him. “Less talky, more walky.”
“Taskmaster.”
Sloane looked at the ground and blinked against the tears of relief stinging her eyes. She held him tighter, thanking God he was alive and well. She couldn’t even imagine what she’d do if he’d gotten seriously hurt. Or killed.
The thought made her insides freeze over until she started to shiver.
She settled him down next to their gear, sparing a quick glance at the man she’d knocked out. He was still out cold, but she found two sets of cuffs and shoved them in her pocket.
Once she had a clean wad of gauze pressed against Lucas’s head, she had him hold it in place. “I’ll be right back. Need to secure the hostage.”
She made quick work of cuffing the man’s hands together behind his back and his ankle to that of one of the dead guards. He wasn’t going anywhere for a while, which worked for her.
She ran back to Lucas, who watched her with guilty eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t have a clean shot on Soma, and I wasn’t fast enough to get to them before they got on the plane.”
“Neither was I,” she said. “We’ll find another way.”
He leaned his head back against a tree and let out a rough sigh. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“What?”
“We need to call for help.”
Sloane nodded. “I’ll make the call to Bella.”
“And your father?”
She shook her head. “I won’t call him, but I won’t stop you. If he can send men to help us find Gina, then I won’t turn them away.”
“Fair enough, I guess.”
The thought of taking anything from her father turned her stomach, but that was just too bad. If Gina needed her father’s help, then that was what she was going to get.
Lucas went stiff and his head jerked up as he looked at the sky. “You hear that?”
Sloane listened, but all she heard was the racket of the jungle behind her. “No.”
“There’s a helicopter and it’s getting closer.”
“Our mystery man?” she asked. “The one who was coming for Gina?”
“That would be my guess.”
Sloane set up her rifle again and settled in behind it as the helicopter touched down. She watched as a tall, dark-haired man got out from behind the controls. “He’s alone,” she told Lucas.
He shifted so he was lying beside her, looking through binoculars. “I think I’ve seen that guy before.”
“You have? Where?”
“I don’t remember.”
Sloane watched as he moved cautiously away from the helicopter, surveying the damage they’d caused. He crouched, pressed his fingers against the ground and brought them to his nose, smelling the spilled fuel. He was wearing protective gear, which meant she was going to need to get a head shot. She moved her finger to the trigger.
“Wait,” said Lucas. “You can’t kill him.”
“Why not? He’s the reason Gina’s in this mess. He’s the one who wants her for some reason. I kill him, Soma has no one to sell her to—or whatever he’s doing.”
Lucas laid down the binoculars. “Soma may also have no more reason to keep her alive.”
Shock rattled Sloane and she hastily moved her finger from the trigger. She hadn’t thought about that, though she sure as hell should have.
“What do you suggest? Should I take out a leg?”
The man below moved up the slope toward them, heading straight for the man Sloane had restrained.
“No. Hang on,” Lucas whispered.
The man was close now, only a few yards away. She pulled her rifle back so it wouldn’t be visible and held her breath, not daring to move any more for fear of being seen. Under the overhang of low branches where they lay, she didn’t think he could see them there, but as close as he was getting, she didn’t want to leave anything to chance.
He scanned the area again as he knelt down next to the wounded man. He slapped his face, dragging a groan from the guard. After several more rough pats to the face, the newcomer finally gave up and pulled a phone from his belt.
“What happened?” he asked in a clear American accent.
“Do you still have her?” He paused, listening to whoever was on the other end of the line. “Of course I still want her, but I’m not risking a trip to you until you can guarantee it’s safe. I will come Tuesday night. Late. Do you think you can manage to regain control of one woman by then?”
He lifted his gaze, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the trees. “I know how well fortified your villa is. I also know that if you make another mistake, it will be the last time we do business. I expect her to be waiting when I arrive. I don’t want a repeat of this time.” He disconnected the call and replaced the phone on his belt.
With one last study of the area, he turned, got back in his helicopter, and flew away.
Sloane let out the breath she’d been holding.
“I remember where I saw him now,” said Lucas, sounding vaguely sick.
“Where?” she asked.
“Your father’s office.”
Chapter 12
Adam flew straight back to his jet. The urge to go after Gina now that he was so close was hard to resist, but he wasn’t going to risk his life going into an unknown situation. Better to go find the man in Wyoming now, before he disappeared again, and let Soma fight off Gina’s rescuers. If Soma failed to beat back Sloane and her mercenary friends—and Adam knew the general’s daughter was definitely at the root of this inconvenience—so be it. He’d find Gina’s body and take from it what he needed. The data would still be there whether she was dead or alive.
And if Soma succeeded in taking down Sloane, it would serve the general right for not cooperating with him. Next time Adam went to the general, maybe he’d think twice about turning him away empty-handed.
Adam still wasn’t convinced that Sloane’s name wasn’t on the List. She’d been in Dr. Stynger’s hands long enough to be useful, despite the general’s protestations to the contrary.
All he needed was a few minutes with her and he’d know for sure. In fact, all he really needed was her body. There was no way she’d know anything useful; the general would never have allowed her close contact with any of the major players in the Threshold Project.
He’d let things fall where they may and stay far enough away that none of the backlash would touch him. He couldn’t risk his own safety now—not when he was so close to finding Eli.
Once he and his brother were together again, he’d take down Dr. Stynger and her whole operation, but until that day, he needed her too much to piss her off. Until that day, he’d be her good little soldier and bring her back anyone he found on the List.
Riley was waiting on Lucille’s doorstep when she came home. The September sun was still hot enough to make him sweat, but even if it hadn’t been, facing up to the woman who was probably carrying his child was enough to make any man sweat.
He didn’t know her. He didn’t even know if he liked her. He had no business having a child with her, but it was a little too late to be worrying about that. Closing the barn door after all the horses were out, as his dad would have said.
He was struck again by how pretty she was. How elegant. How far out of his farm-boy league.
Her hair was a wild, artful mess, and her microminiskirt showed off enough leg to make his mouth go dry. Based on the overdone makeup she was probably coming from a job.
She saw him and came to a dead stop. Her voice was cold and clipped. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought we should talk.”
She dug in her giant purse and pulled out her keys, unlocking her door. “Fine, but mak
e it quick. I’m having people over tonight.”
The fact that she hadn’t invited him stung, but he understood it was going to take them some time to get to know each other, to find common ground.
When she let him into her home, he was shocked by how sterile it was. A mix of chrome and glass with matte stone accents. Nothing at all like the worn wood and soft fabrics of his childhood home. Even his own apartment—which he used more as a hotel than anything—had more give than this place. A person could sit down and prop their feet up on his coffee table. Not here. Lucille’s was glass, topped with jagged metal modern artwork.
It hit him in that moment that this was no place to raise a kid. He was going to have to buy her new furniture if she planned on staying here. And after being in her home for only a few seconds, he could tell there was no way he’d ever convince her to move into his tiny place.
She was an upscale kind of girl all the way.
“Talk,” she ordered, propping her hands on her slim hips.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, since he didn’t know where else to start. “Are you sick at all?”
“I’m fine.” And that was it. She was done talking, leaving him hanging, scrambling for the next bit of conversation.
Time to cut to the chase. “Did the doctor give you a due date?”
“For . . . ?”
“The baby.”
She blinked her wide blue eyes twice before answering. “There is no baby.”
Confused, he said, “But I got your message. You said you were pregnant.”
“I was. Now I’m not.”
Understanding dawned and he couldn’t help but reach for her. No wonder she was so cold. She was hurting. She’d lost the baby.
A ripple of grief swept through him, but he couldn’t be selfish right now. Later, he promised himself, he’d feel whatever he wanted, but right now he had to be strong for her. Support her. “I’m so sorry.”
His hand moved toward her and she stepped back, dodging him.
“Don’t be. It was a simple procedure. I’m already back at work.”
Procedure?
Shock rocked him back on his heels. “You had an abortion?”
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