by Zoe Dawson
He paused before he hit the patio, decked out with a fire pit and enough seating for a small party. This place was huge.
He set down his weapon, looking around to make sure he hadn’t been spotted, then began working on the door mechanism. When he popped the lock, he grabbed his sub-auto and opened it enough for him to slip inside.
Closing and locking it behind him, he found himself in a massive kitchen. The light from the living room beyond illuminated the glossy granite countertops, giving him the ability to make out the huge side-by-side fridge, three ovens, and pricey artwork.
With his finger alongside the trigger of his sub-auto, he took two steps.
“Don’t move a muscle,” said a female voice from behind him, full of business.
Then he heard the distinctive sound of her cocking a shotgun, pumping a shell into the chamber.
* * *
Scarecrow and Wicked headed for the airport, already dialing LT’s number. When he answered, Scarecrow told him what NCIS had found out. Ruckus swore under his breath.
“Where is Blue now?”
“We don’t know. He’s not answering his phone.”
“Dammit. Get your butts back here. I want you in the ready room after you land. I’ll muster the others. Keep me posted.”
“Copy that,” Scarecrow said.
They landed back in San Diego five hours later the same day. When they walked into the ready room, everyone was there: Cowboy, Kid Chaos and his wife, Paige, Tank, and Hollywood.
Ruckus pointed to two vacant chairs, and as they sat, Bronte came over to them, greeting them with her cold muzzle and wagging tail. “Hey, girl,” Scarecrow murmured, absently petting her as he turned his attention to Paige at the front of the room.
“I’ve been in touch with the Panama City Office, and I’m afraid that it’s confirmed that Irina Komaroff is in the US.” She clicked the remote, and Irina’s picture flashed on the screen. “This was taken fourteen days ago at the Panama City International Airport. There have been no more sightings of her, and at this point, we don’t have any idea where she is. But NCIS is working on finding her.”
The tension in the room ratcheted up a notch. “So, she could have Blue and could be torturing again,” Hollywood said, his voice gruff. “Son of a bitch.”
“We don’t know where he is at this point. We know his plane touched down and when, but after that, nothing.”
Paige’s cell phone rang, and she answered it, moving quietly off toward the door.
“I can’t sit around here waiting for the other shoe to drop,” Cowboy drawled. “If she has him, we’ve got to find him before it’s too late.”
Kid was watching his wife, and he straightened when she turned back to the group. “A woman and six men, two of them matching the description Blue gave, chartered a private plane.”
“Where?” Scarecrow asked, his body as tight as a drum.
“San Diego. She’s already here.”
* * *
“Hands up and where I can see them, or I’m going to pull the trigger.”
Damn, that girl meant some business. He raised his hands and turned around. The shock on Charlie’s face would be almost comical if this wasn’t such a serious situation.
“Blue,” she breathed and secured the gun. Setting it on the counter, she ran to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He held her gaze for a moment, then lifted her face and gave her a slow, comforting kiss. He heard her breath catch, and she gripped his wrists.
Tightening his hold, he moved his mouth ever so softly against hers, the clean scent of her filling his senses. Releasing an unsteady sigh, he gathered her up in a secure embrace, tucking her head against the curve of his neck. He didn’t say anything. He just closed his eyes and drew her deeper into his embrace, his chest tightening. He cupped the back of her head, her hair soft and silky against his skin. He could breathe again. She was safe for now, and he intended for her to stay that way.
“You changed your mind?”
“No, not exactly. It wasn’t me they were watching, Charlie. It was you.”
“Me. Why…oh my God, who?”
“Irina Komaroff. Natasha’s sister. She’s here in San Diego. She’s coming after you.”
“She can try,” Charlie said, her features hardening.
He smiled. He couldn’t seem to help it. “You ready to kick some ass, babe?”
“Damn straight.”
“How did you know I was in the house?”
“Security system. It’s state of the art. My dad installed it when he bought some valuable art. I’ve kept it updated all these years.”
“It covers the whole grounds?”
“It does,” she said with a smile. “Every last inch.”
“I need to use your phone.”
* * *
Scarecrow paced the room while the other guys all milled around waiting for some word on the whereabouts of Irina. Wherever she was, that’s where they’d find Blue.
His cell rang, and he looked down to see that it was his mom’s number. Unable to concentrate on anything other than figuring out where Blue was, he declined the call. She called back, and he put the phone on silent.
Then in the quiet, the ready room phone started to ring. “Put it on speaker,” Ruckus said as Scarecrow answered.
“Lieutenant Cooper,” Ruckus growled.
“LT?”
“Blue. Where the hell are you?”
“In some deep shit. I need you guys.”
“All we need is an address.”
Blue rattled off one. “Be advised. Irina Komaroff, Natasha’s sister, and six of her goons are already here. They’re after a navy diver, Charlotte Coventry. That address is her family’s estate. We spotted them on the grounds, but we’ve got—”
The line went dead, and everyone started moving.
* * *
Blue headed for the light switch and turned it off. In the dark, he made his way back to Charlie. “Garage?”
“Oh, vehicle, escape. Good idea. This way.”
Automatic gunfire ripped into the house, mixing in with breaking glass, exploding glassware, and shredded furniture. Blue pulled Charlie down with him to the floor. She covered her ears, and he flipped to his back and returned fire. “Crawl to the hallway. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Blue.”
“Go, Charlie. I’m the guy with the gun and the experience. Move!”
A body hurtled through the open window. Blue, still on his back, fired off four fast rounds. It caught the man in the chest and blew him back as blood splattered against the wall right before his body hit and slid down into a heap.
More automatic gunfire erupted, and Blue scrambled across the hardwood, his body armor catching as he propelled himself into the hallway too fast, and he hit the stairs with his back. Charlie was huddled just a few feet in front of him. She would have seen the guy he’d shot. Her eyes were fixed and determined, and a surge of adrenaline went through him at the sight of her. She had ducked into the kitchen and gotten the shotgun. It was clutched in her hands, and it looked like she was ready to unload it.
He got up just as gunfire ripped into the front door. He ran down the hall in a hail of bullets, plaster, and wood, grabbing her as he went past. Immediately he shielded her with his body as he depressed the trigger to return fire.
He ran, his steps so wide she was forced to run hard. They made it to the end of the hall, but the kitchen was blocked with two goons. Luckily, they had their backs to them. “It’s through there. Through them,” Charlie whispered close to Blue’s ear, so the two goon road blocks wouldn’t hear them.
“We need to make a hole then,” he whispered back.
“Copy that,” she said, slowly cocking the gun, and—boom—she discharged the shotgun into the room. The shot struck the closest man as he screamed and went down, his face bloody. The second man didn’t even get off a shot as she pumped again and blew him back and into the wall.
“Hole made,” she said.
>
“Remind me never to piss you off,” he murmured as they went through the kitchen. Shouts from the side of the house sounded off as the intruders realized they were moving toward the garage.
Charlie ran ahead of him and opened the door. “This way.” She gestured hurriedly. “Get the lead out.”
Charlie slammed the door and locked it against the threat of heavy footsteps and the crunch of glass beneath boots.
“It’s not going to hold them long.”
She grabbed a set of keys from a hook near the door and ran to an SUV. “Get inside.”
Before they could enter the vehicle, the door disintegrated and blew inward. The blast knocked Blue back and against the side of the SUV. Charlie disappeared in the smoke and debris, but the sound of the garage door rising was the only sound left in the wake of the explosion.
Through the splintered door, Irina Komaroff stepped inside, dressed all in black with a pair of commando boots on her feet. Shock coursed through him at how much she resembled her sister. For a moment, he was back in the run-down mansion, back in that small basement cell where Natasha was breaking his will. But he fought it off, fought against what he thought she had taken, but that he had actually given to her. He had never lost it. His personal power was always his, no matter what happened to him. He took it back.
His sub-auto was not far from him, but out of his reach, snug up against the back wall. The garage door continued to lift.
He lunged for his weapon, knowing it was futile but not giving up. She slammed her foot into his chest and pinned him to the floor.
She raised the side arm in her hand and pointed it at his head. “Where is she?”
“Go to hell,” he said.
“Tell me where she is, and I’ll make this quick. Defy me, and I will make you watch as I carve her into little pieces fit for the fishes in her pond.”
He clamped his teeth together. With any luck, Charlie was already long gone.
“You have until the count of five.”
He just stared at her.
“One…two…three…four…”
“Five!” Charlie shouted, and the shotgun exploded. Irina threw herself to the side as her two goons took cover. Charlie scooped up his semi-automatic as he rose, tossing it to him as he dove into the passenger seat. She jumped into the driver’s seat, started the vehicle, and gunned the engine.
Peeling rubber, she barreled down the driveway. “Shit!” she yelled as one of her tires blew out. Blue looked back to see Irina and her goons running after them. Charlie wrestled with the vehicle, but they blew out another tire and she braked hard as the vehicle slid off the driveway sideways onto the grass.
The vehicle’s momentum was too much, and it rolled twice, coming upright against the stone wall. Charlie was slumped over the wheel. Blue turned his body and kicked at his ruined door until it swung open. He propelled himself out of the vehicle and took a bead on the running Kirikhans. They took cover behind some topiaries.
A bullet whizzed by Blue’s head so close he could feel the heat of it score his temple, knocking him back against the SUV.
As he reached for a clip, one of the goons was already advancing on him. He fumbled it just as the guy reached him.
The sound of metal on metal clashed in the air as a vehicle crashed through the gate, sending one half of the wrought iron careening into a cluster of rose bushes. Then seven SEALs, armed to the teeth, jumped out of the assault vehicle and ran at them, shouting at them to drop their weapons. Irina fired back along with her goons, and his team—his brothers—returned fire until the three Kirikhans were down, unmoving, blood pooling around them.
Blue pushed off the hood and watched as Scarecrow ran to him. He met Blue’s eyes, his gratitude and love for his brother unmistakable. When he was almost there, one of the Kirikhans came unexpectedly from around the vehicle with Scarecrow in his sights.
“Crow, watch out,” Blue shouted as Irina’s goon discharged his weapon. Blue threw himself in its trajectory, and it sliced into his arm. Without hesitating, gritting his teeth against the pain, he barreled toward the man, hitting him like a battering ram. With his knee in the man’s chest, he threw two punches and disarmed him.
He turned and saw that Scarecrow was down. “No!” he shouted as he rose and sprinted to him. His eyes were open, but blood was soaking into his uniform.
“Blue, your case,” Kid said as he dropped Blue’s medical gear near him. “Is it bad?”
He shouldered Kid out of the way and grabbed a pair of shears out of his bag. He cut away scarecrow’s uniform and grimaced. The bullet had hit his chest, above the fleshy part of his pectoral. He was gasping. “It’s going to be all right,” Blue said as he got to work stemming the flow of blood and controlling the bleeding.
Even as he finished with the pressure bandage, he could hear sirens in the distance.
Wicked was sitting at Scarecrow’s head while the others were mopping up the scene, making sure there were no other goons to contend with. Hollywood was tending to Charlie’s scraped temple as she watched Blue work on Scarecrow, her eyes shining.
As the ambulance pulled up, the EMTs jumped out of their vehicle and raced over to them with a stretcher. As they loaded Scarecrow up, he clasped Blue’s hand. “I need to talk to you.”
“Later,” Blue said. “Get him out of here.”
“What about your arm?” one of the EMTs said, respect in his eyes.
“It’s nothing. I can take care of it myself.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, then ran to the ambulance. They loaded up Crow and raced off.
Blue sat down and pulled off his bloody shirt. He reached for some antiseptic wipes, but Charlie’s hands covered his. “Let me,” she said softly.
He released the packet, and she ripped it open. He bit his lip at the sting of the antiseptic. She cleaned the area thoroughly. As thoroughly as he would have. She reached for a bandage, pulling off the tabs. As she pressed it down, she whispered, “Thank you.”
He closed his eyes. “Charlie…now that this is over, I want to talk to you—” She covered his mouth with her fingertips, her eyes sad.
“We have unfinished business. I know that. But I need time, Blue. I have to understand myself and what I want before I can finish what we started.”
He stared at her, his heart dropping. “How much time?”
“I don’t know. It’s complicated. You’re a SEAL. I’m a diver. How would we ever make this work?”
“That’s just the fear talking. We would,” he said, turning toward her and taking her hands. “We’d find a way.”
She closed her eyes. “I don’t know if I can risk everything again. I just don’t know,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re still afraid of loss?”
“Yes. Our jobs are so dangerous.”
“All the more to live for every moment,” he said.
She shook her head and rose as Ruckus came up to them.
He crouched down and said, “You ready to get back on the team, Blue?”
Charlie took a step back, her eyes filling. When she turned away and started to walk back toward her house, he felt as if he was losing everything. But he latched onto Ruckus’s words. “Hooyah,” he said. “I am, sir, but I still need some time to see a therapist.”
Ruckus nodded and smiled. “Welcome back, Blue.”
* * *
In his bloody T-shirt, fresh from battle, Blue walked into the hospital with Ruckus. They went up to the floor where Scarecrow had been taken. He was in surgery to remove the bullet and patch him up. Ruckus found out the doctors considered it a routine procedure. There was some damage, and he would be out of commission for a few weeks, but nothing that would slow him down.
When they exited the elevator, his teammates all came over to him, hugging him and talking about how badass he was to take on Irina and six of her goons by himself. He smiled and said, “I wasn’t alone.”
That’s when they all sat down together. Blue met Tank’s e
yes. They’d already reconnected after his visit to Panama City.
“It’s good to have you back,” Hollywood said. “We’re sorry about what happened to you in Kirikhanistan. If we could have gotten to you sooner—”
“I know,” Blue said as he squeezed Hollywood’s shoulder. “I know you would have. Thank you for not giving up on me.”
“Never gonna happen,” Wicked said.
That knot under his breastbone unraveled a bit at Wicked’s comment.
“We’re proud as hell to fight alongside you, Blue.”
Wicked had always been a man of few words. But those words were all he needed to know. With his eyes full of the respect that Blue worried had been lost, Wicked said, “Hooyah. The Brotherhood.”
Everyone chimed in, and the sound of their solidarity echoed off the walls and down the corridors of the hospital like a battle cry.
After a moment, their conversation shifted to giving Kid a hard time for almost clearing out the candy machine.
“I want the Kit Kat bar,” Tank said, and there were several protests.
“Fuck that. Give me the 3 Musketeers bar, man, and no one gets hurt,” Cowboy said.
“I’ll freaking arm wrestle you for that one. It’s worth that fluffy, whipped nougat,” Kid said.
“Were there any M&Ms?” Everyone turned to Hollywood.
“You gotta go there and bogart the M&Ms. I think there’s enough to share,” Kid said, rolling his eyes. “I think there’s plenty to share with everyone.” A grin spread. “But I’m keeping the 3 Musketeers.”
Everyone groaned, and it started up all over again.
“Can I have a word with you?” Wicked asked. “Privately.”
Blue and Wicked walked to just beyond the argumentsk, and Blue turned to Wicked with a smile on his face, feeling as if everything was getting back to normal.