Badass - The Complete Series: A Billionaire Military Romance

by Leslie Johnson

  Then I see it. See them. Six men coming up on the perimeter of an old, wooden shack, two more taking breach lead. The flash of shot flaring from the end of two of their guns. A woman running across the porch, ducking low, her hands covering her head.

  “Turn me.”

  “What are you doing?” Rob whines as I tug open the door. I ignore him and wait until the chopper turns and I’m open. I sight in the two shooters and open fire, watching them move for cover as the woman dives through the door.

  I prepare the rope I’ll probably be using for insertion and tug on gloves. No gunfire from the shack. No movement there at all. Where the hell is Duff?

  I pull out another M4 just as I see a fucking truck come rolling—no, flipping—down the mountain. A thick limb crashes through the driver’s side window. Sucks to be the driver.

  “ETA six minutes,” Randall says in my ear as I watch the truck roll to a stop. A few moments later, there is movement. A bag is tossed out, followed by … hot damn, it’s him! I raise the binoculars to confirm.

  “I need down, but he doesn’t know I’m friendly,” I say to the pilots. “Luke, cover me. Randall, get me close to that truck, keeping me in his line of sight.”

  Randall circles us and I pull two more armor vests from the back. I pull off the headset and plug my earpiece in my ear, then do the stupidest thing I’ve done all day. I stand in the door of the chopper, unarmed, hands raised in the universal sign of surrender.

  My balls tighten as Duff pulls up a weapon, sites me in. I don’t move. I stand my position, hoping like fuck that his eyesight hasn’t turned dim.

  I wait as Luke fires from the front. I don’t even look at what he’s targeting.

  I wait as Rob whines behind me, asking me for the hundredth time what I’m doing.

  I wait, even as a bullet ricochets off the chopper. Then several more.

  “Tate…” Randall says in my ear.

  “Hold,” I say back.

  Another bullet ricochets and finally, Duff lowers his weapon. My balls descend and I tell Randall to get me closer.

  Staying in the doorway, I gather my gear and prepare to toss the rope and supplies.

  “What are you doing?”

  I growl deep in my chest and turn on the bastard. “We’re going down.”

  His eyes grow big. “Me? I’m not …”

  I grab him by the front of the shirt. “You’ll slide down that rope or I swear to Mother Mary and the baby Jesus that I’ll toss you out.” I let him go and slap a pair of gloves at him. “Stop being a pussy and put those on.”

  Slapping two more magazines in Luke’s hand when he reaches for them, I turn back to the doorway. We’re close enough. Can’t get any closer because of the trees.

  “Hold,” I tell Randall and toss out the rope. Then I toss out two vests, a bag of ammo and strap the guns across my shoulders. I look at Rob, who’s an interesting combination of red and green now. “Hold the rope with feet and hands. Easier than gym class. Now go.”

  Rob shakes his head and I reach for him, grabbing his shirt by the scruff of the neck. “Easy or hard, man. You’re out of that door in three seconds. Your choice.”

  Luke steps to the back and takes Rob’s place at the other door, opening it as Randall turns us from the team. He nods at me and begins cover fire. I look down and see Duff providing cover too.

  “Go. Go. Go.” I scream at Rob and the idiot practically crawls down the rope, falling, screaming, clutching the entire way down. I grin when he lands hard, falling on his ass.

  I’m down in an instant, hauling Rob up and gathering the supplies I’d tossed. I push the idiot toward Duff, shoving him none to gently over a log, diving behind him.

  The chopper circles away, drawing the fire away from us. Good team. I’ve got a damn good team.

  I toss a vest at Duff, give him a grin and pull an M4 from my shoulder before taking his place on the fire line while he suits up. Blood is dripping from his arms and fingers. He’s got scratches everywhere. “You look like hell,” I tell him as I watch the team drag one of their downed men behind a huge stump.

  Looking happy as hell to see me, he slaps me on the shoulder and secures the vest straps. “You look like a damn angel, swear to God.”

  “What’s the plan?” I ask, searching the tree line for a target. “I’ve got support four minutes out.”

  “What’s going on?” comes the whiney voice behind me.

  I growl and turn on the asshole. “Stay down and shut up.”

  Duff looks past me and gets a good look at Rob. His eyes narrow. Looks like they’ve met before. “Got to get to Grace,” he says, his eyes not leaving the other man.

  I nod. “Saw a woman run inside on my approach.” I eye the woods and thrust the other vest at him. “I’ll cover. You have enough ammo?” He nods and I radio the chopper, asking them for support. I stick an extra radio in his pocket just as we both hear the crash of glass. I grab Duff by the arm to keep him from doing something reckless.

  “Cabin is breached,” says Randall in my ear. “East side window.”

  “How many?” I ask and hold up two fingers to Duff.

  His jaw tightens and he wrenches away from me. “Cover him,” I shout to Randall. “I’ll follow in ten.”

  The helicopter sweeps in, raining down fire and I come up over the log as Duff scrambles in the direction of the cabin, moving slower than I remember. He’s dragging a leg and I up my cover, realizing it will take a little longer than expected.

  Then he’s in and I hear my other chopper coming from the distance.

  Hell yeah.

  The Calvary is on the way.

  But not quick enough.

  I jump the log and run toward the porch as all hell breaks loose inside the shack.

  Chapter 6 – Grace

  The not knowing is the worst.

  Worse than being shot at.

  Even worse than being shot.

  Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but it sucks in here and I appreciate once again the technology Link had in Colorado. His ability to see the people outside. See them coming. See what we were up against.

  Here, the not knowing is agony.

  Once I had gotten inside the shack, I crawled to the back, into the hidey hole and finally stood long enough to close and lock the door.

  I’d been shaking so badly I could barely turn on a lantern, then I’d grabbed a gun, the ammo and the dog before I’d crawled into the furthest corner.

  I’m cold.

  Scared.

  Worried.

  Completely at a loss as to what to do. I hold Fate close to me, her little body trembling in fear. I stroke her fur, wishing I could do more.

  I can’t hear anything. Can’t see anything outside of this cave. Can’t do anything.

  Agony.

  The waiting is like a knife slicing across my imagination.

  Crash!

  The sound is tiny through the thick door of the cave, but it terrifies me anyway. Fate growls, and I sit her on the floor, giving her room to burrow behind me. I lift the gun and brace my arm on my knee, training the sites on the entry.

  More gunshots.

  More crashing.

  More endless waiting that threatens to explode my mind.

  I clamp my teeth together to keep them from chattering against each other and wait for either death or deliverance.

  The word triggers me—deliverance—and I begin to cry.

  I don’t mean to. I hate the wetness on my cheeks, the acrid burning in my nose, the heat of the emotion clogging my throat. I wipe at my eyes, willing myself to stop. I can’t. It’s like I’m crying over everything I’ve lost and will never have.

  Ryland. The baby who never drew a breath, his waxy pale face so perfectly at peace. The way he felt in my arms as I held him. The coldness of his tiny lips that looked so very much like my own. I hope Mom and Dad bury me next to him.

  More tears as I think of my mom and dad. My brother. My sister. My niece and nephew.
Natalie, the twins and her baby girl.

  Link.

  I hate dying most of all because of him.

  Not because of the fantasies I have of us growing old together. Not because of the way he makes me feel when we make love. But because of the blame he will wear like a wet blanket over his shoulders. Of the guilt he’ll consume like a feast.

  I look around, suddenly desperate to find pen and paper. I saw some before; I know I did. I need to write to them. I need to tell them goodbye. Why didn’t I think of that before?

  Crawling to the shelves, I find a notepad and pencil and make my way back to the gun and little dog. Her ears are still back. She’s still shaking. She’s as terrified as me.

  The first is to my family. It’s simple…

  To the most wonderful family imaginable. I love you all so much. Tell Nat I love her too. Thank you for everything. My beautiful childhood filled with laughter and joy. The examples you’ve given me on how to become a good person. I’ll miss you terribly, but regret nothing. I love you all forever, Grace.

  I jump as another crash bursts its way into my haze and I turn the page and write faster.

  Link,

  I thought I understood love. I thought I knew it intimately, but what I’ve felt for you transcends everything I thought possible. I regret nothing. I would exchange nothing for the time I had with you. Live, Link. Please live for me.

  I love you so much,

  Grace

  I look at the paper. Read it and re-read it. Words fail. Nothing I’ve written here can convey the depth of my feelings.

  Crash!

  I’m out of time. I know that now. What’s written here will have to be good enough.

  Outside, things grow quieter and then I scream as something hits against the cave door. I hold up the gun, brace my arm on my knee and wait.

  The door rattles, something crashes again and the door rattles once more.

  My heart breaks as it begins to open, pounding so hard with the effort that the sound clogs my ears. Fate is beside me now, barking furiously again, the barks echoing around the small room.

  My teeth chatter and the hand holding the gun is trembling so badly, it nearly falls off my knee. It takes tremendous effort to hold it there, but I manage to steady it as I wait.

  Three inches. The door is sliding open and Fate goes wild in response.

  The corners of my vision begin to blur and I feel sure I’m about to die of fright. I hear someone yelling through the beating of my heart, but all sound is echoing in my ears.

  Without warning, the door slides open quickly and a man appears in the suddenly open space.

  I’m crying so hard now I can barely see.

  It’s him!

  It’s Link.

  Oh, thank you God, it’s Link.

  I recognize him, just as my finger squeezes the trigger.

  Chapter 7 – Duffy

  The battery in the prosthetic is almost dead and I’m having to physically pull it into place. Where once the bionic programming assisted the movement, now I might as well have a peg leg.

  The wind from the chopper gives me additional cover as I move as fast as I can across the expanse of field. Then I’m on the porch, pulling the leg up to join me, then I’m around the side and in the door.

  I see one of the men right away as I duck low into the room. The Glock is better in the small space and I take the man down as he turns, sending him crashing backwards against the wall, forcing me to dive away from the spray of bullets as his dead finger holds down the AK’s trigger.

  The prosthetic leg is gone, the battery completely dead and I stay down, listening for the second man, trying to assess his location. A board squeaks and I roll close to the interior wall as he comes around the doorway, low and spraying the room.

  I fire and miss as he ducks back, then sends another spray of bullets through the old, thin drywall just over my head. I listen for the first click and then force myself up and around the door, going in low, shooting low. His kneecap explodes and he goes down hard on his side, taking a small table with him.

  My jaw tightens as he curses in Russian and he rolls to face me, trying to raise the cumbersome weapon. I shoot the hand holding the gun and he screams as it flies from his grasp, taking a couple fingers along with it.

  He curses again and reaches for another weapon. I need him alive, so I lunge, launching on top of him before he can pull it from the holster on his leg. I drive a knee into his gut, taking out his air before tossing the smaller weapon out of reach and pressing my forearm against his throat.

  “Kto tebya nanyal?” I yell at him. “Who hired you?” I yell again.

  He spits in my face and I press harder on his throat, not flinching when his left fist strikes the side of my head.

  “Tate in!” I hear from the front of the shack. “Holding front.”

  “Holding the back!” I yell in response, not taking my eyes off the bastard beneath me who’s now grinning and moving his jaw.

  “No!”

  I force his chin down with the heel of my hand and curl my fingers around his bottom teeth, trying to force his mouth open. I’m too late. I hear the capsule burst; see the poison spread in his mouth. I watch his eyes glaze as his body bucks beneath me. Seconds later, he’s dead.

  Son of a bitch.

  From the front of the shack, Tate’s still laying down fire, but the number of shots is greatly reduced. “Bird Two in,” he yells to me. “Rival team retreating.”

  I sag in momentary relief.

  Moving away from the dead man, I limp toward the back wall triggering the latch to open the door. It doesn’t move and I wonder if it’s somehow barred inside. It makes sense, even though Grace hadn’t pointed a barring mechanism out.

  Banging on the door, I try to get her attention and wait, then bang again. Then I see where the Russian had caused the door to come off track. How had he known of the hidey hole? My fear for Grace’s family increases.

  Kicking at the door, I heave my shoulder against it and it opens just a crack. I can hear Fate barking now and I yell at Grace over the racket when the door gives and slides open several more inches, taking my weight with it.

  I straighten and turn to go inside, and see her huddled in the corner, her face streaming with tears. Oh, thank God. She’s safe. She’s—

  Bang!

  The impact of the bullet staggers me backward and I fall when the bionic leg doesn’t respond.

  Barking.

  Screaming.

  Then Grace is over me, holding my face in her hand, crying, saying words I don’t understand. Pressing her fingers to my throat. Pressing her lips to mine. Laying her head on my chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

  I reach up and touch her hair and her eyes fly open. She’s up in an instant, searching my face, my pulse, my breathing as her tears drip on my cheeks.

  “Vest,” I manage to get out, trying to reassure her, then push myself up on an elbow.

  She looks confused, then understands and runs her hand down my chest, feeling the armor and her face collapses into sobs again.

  “I thought I killed you,” she says and I take her in my arms, holding her trembling form hard against me. She’s still running her good hand over me, checking me for wounds. “Why is there so much blood?”

  “Little car accident,” I manage to say, still catching my breath after the shot I’d taken in the sternum. “I’m not hurt, just banged up.”

  She begins unstrapping the vest, lifting it to check for herself. She winces when she sees what I imagine is already a tight bruise forming from the slug’s impact. “I’m so sorry. I was so scared and I didn’t mean to pull the trigger. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  I kiss her hair. “Good aim, sweetheart. Glad you weren’t going for my head.”

  She blows out a breath and wipes the back of her hand across her eyes. Then she looks at me, apology written large across her face. Your head was a target.”

  Tate rounds the corner and Grace screams, throwin
g herself over me. Damn, I love this woman. “It’s okay,” I tell her as Tate takes a knee beside us. “He’s a friend.”

  Tate nods at her, then looks at me before frowning down at the tiny dog who’s biting his boot. He pulls her off him, picks her up and hands her to Grace. “Might want to trade that in for a pit.”

  “What’s our status?” I ask him while Grace snuggles the dog under her chin.

  “They’ve bugged out. My men are holding perimeter.” He frowns and touches his ear. “Say again,” he says into his mic. He stands. “Bird Two spotted two men coming down the mountain. Both carrying shotguns, it looks like.”

  Grace sits up quickly, her eyes wide with fear. “My dad. My papaw. Is one of them wearing overalls?”

  He speaks into his mic. A moment passes and he nods.

  “Tell them not to hurt them.” She grabs Tate’s arm. “Please hurry.”

  Tate radios in the information and Grace is up, running for the door. Then she comes back, kneels beside me and kisses me hard on the lips. “I love you,” she says, handing me the dog. Then she laughs and kisses me once more, the hand on my face still trembling with the aftermath of her fright. “And if you ever leave me again, I swear on both my GG’s graves, I won’t miss.”

  Chapter 8 – Grace

  Running from the fishing shack, I’m shocked to see so much going on outside. There are armed men watching the woods. Two helicopters; one on the ground and one in the sky. One of the men on the porch nods at me, then turns his attention back to the woods. Another one holds up a hand and takes my arm. “Your relatives are being escorted in,” he says. “Stay behind me until we confirm identification.”

  I officially hate waiting, but soon enough, I hear them before I see them. A few minutes later, my dad and papaw come out of the woods, escorted by two heavily armed men. They walk past what is left of Link’s truck. An accident? It looks like it rolled down the entire mountain.

  I gasp when I see who is with them. Rob! And my papaw has him by the scruff of the neck, practically dragging him by his side.

  “It’s them,” I tell the man and he lets go of me, but paces me while I run in their direction. Ignoring my ex, I fling myself at my dad and he catches me, holding me close. Papaw is right beside us, kissing my cheek. Seconds later, I’m hugging him too.