by LENA DIAZ,
She grabbed the bullet-resistant vest he pointed to and pulled it on over her head. “What you do best?”
“Logistics, baby. I’ve got contacts all over the country, all over the world. I admit most of them came from Devlin, from the people he met as an enforcer. But I’ve garnered quite a few sources of my own and am mastering the tricks of the trade. I can put anything you need anywhere, fast.” He wheeled around to face the computer again, his fingers flying across the keyboard, topography maps of the land outside of Boulder popping up on the screen. “Hell, I could set an aircraft carrier in the middle of the freaking desert if you need it.”
Melissa paused with a large knife in her hand. “I don’t need an aircraft carrier. I just need for Jace and the others to be alive.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Jace swore and dove back between the two buildings. Bullets whined off the ground ten feet away, in the main street that ran down Enforcement Alley, hemming him in. Every time he tried to make a run for it, the sniper took potshots at him. Once the sniper tired of his game, all he had to do was make his way down the street another fifty yards, parallel to Jace’s position, and take him out. It would be like shooting the proverbial fish in a barrel since Jace was surrounded on three sides by smooth, concrete, two-story walls with no windows. He was good and trapped, and beginning to understand why the enforcers called this place Kobayashi Maru—an unwinnable scenario.
He’d lost sight of Mason, Devlin, and Ramsey and had no clue if they were trapped somewhere like him. One minute they were behind him, and the next they were all dodging bullets from the sniper, and he’d lost sight of them.
Something hit his shoulder. He whirled around, his pistol out in front of him. Nothing. He turned in a full circle. Still nothing.
“Jace, up here.”
His stomach dropped at the sound of that familiar, feminine voice. He looked up, his mouth hanging open in shock. Lying on her stomach, two floors above him, leaning over the edge of the roof—and holding the rope that must have been what hit him on the shoulder—was the one person in the entire universe that he most wanted to not be here.
“What the hell are you doing, Melissa? It’s not safe. Get out of here.”
She shook the rope, hitting him on the side of the head. “That’s not how you thank someone for saving your life. From what I can see, you’re trapped. And the only way out without getting shot is this rope. I tied the other end around a pipe, but I don’t have the strength to pull you up. Do you think you can climb it?”
He was already shoving his gun in his holster and grabbing the rope. He swore beneath his breath, mumbling all the things he was going to lecture her about when he got his hands on her—like not putting herself in the line of fire, for anyone. Ever.
Pulling himself up hand over hand until he could wrap his legs around the rope, he then shimmied up the rest of the way to the top. He dove over the edge, grateful that the flat, commercial-style roof had raised sides that offered a few feet of protection, so no one from the street level—including his sniper friend—could see either of them. After pulling the rope up and dropping it beside them, he grabbed Melissa and rolled on top of her.
She grinned up at him. “Pretty clever, huh?”
Clever? Clever? How about dangerous, foolish, crazy? The lecture he’d practiced in his mind died on his tongue without being said. Because he cared about her feelings, damn it. And she was looking up at him with such joy in her eyes, so proud of herself for coming to his rescue. If she’d been anyone else, anyone, he’d have been grateful, thankful. But seeing her leaning over the edge of that roof had killed him inside a hundred times over. He would rather have died than have her put herself in danger for him.
He took in the bullet-resistant vest, the guns strapped to her waist, and the . . . knife duct-taped to the outside of her pants leg?
“What’s with the knife?”
“I didn’t have any boots to put it in, or a holder. Austin came up with the idea of using duct tape. Works great.”
“Austin, huh? I’ll have to remember to thank him for that little gem.” Yeah, he’d thank him all right.
“I’ve got a gun strapped to my ankle, too, in a little holster. Want to see?”
“Not particularly.” He dropped his forehead against hers. “There are two things I want to do right now, and I can’t decide which one to choose. Either I kiss you senseless, or I shake you until your teeth rattle for putting yourself in danger.”
She slid her hands around his neck. “I vote for the kissing.”
He groaned and claimed her mouth in a searing kiss that had him instantly hard and aching. Every time he touched her, it was like this, a fever that swept through him, igniting every cell in his body, consuming him with a need to take her, to hold her, to protect her.
To cherish her.
He broke the kiss, drawing in deep breaths as he tried to focus. “You’re dangerous, Mel. I can’t think straight around you.”
Her lips curved. “You say the sweetest things.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.” He rolled off her. “Not thinking straight could get us killed. You should have stayed back at the house where it was safe.” He grabbed the rope and began rolling it so he could take it with them in case it came in handy again.
Her eyes flashed with anger, and the sexy siren disappeared, replaced with a ferocious tiger. “Do you have any idea how scared I was that something had happened to you? If I had stayed at the house, you could be like Ramsey and the others.”
His head whipped toward her. What did she mean, like Ramsey and the others?
“—so excuse me if I made you lose your focus,” she continued. “I lost mine, too. Because I was so scared that I wouldn’t find you in time that I lost my head when I did find you.” She shoved her wild hair out of her face. “This is the part where you say thank you.”
“Thank you. Mel?”
“What?”
“What did you mean, like Ramsey and the others? Did something happen to them? Did you see them?”
As fast as her anger had flared, it went out, deflating her like a two-day-old balloon. Bitterness, regret, sorrow reflected in her dark eyes as she stared past him into nothingness. “Ramsey. I saw Ramsey get shot—on the camera Austin rigged to Devlin’s shirt. The others, Mason and Devlin, they fell into a hole, one of the old mineshafts we think. Then the camera stopped working. It seemed like a long fall. I think . . . I think they might have been killed. But I’m not sure.”
“Where?”
“Near the saloon.”
He tied the rope to his belt loop and took her hand. “Let’s get off this roof before the sniper comes looking for me to see why I’m not trying to escape anymore.” He squeezed her hand. “And Mel?”
“Yes?”
“You did good.”
“You’re welcome.” She waved toward the back side of the building. “There’s a trapdoor at that end. That’s how I got up here. I heard shots, so I kept inside the tree line and climbed over the fence behind these buildings.”
The reminder of the chances she’d taken had him angry all over again, but he was careful not to let it show. She’d shown incredible courage. And she was such a remarkably good person, risking so much to help not only him but Devlin and Mason, men she barely knew, men who’d drugged and kidnapped her just yesterday. She had to have one of the best, kindest, most generous souls he’d ever met.
A few minutes later, they were inside the ground floor of the building, which was set up like an old general store complete with a long display counter. Jace told Melissa to wait behind the counter while he duckwalked across the room to stay underneath the row of windows out front and tried to locate the sniper.
There, a flash of sunlight reflected on the sniper’s pistol as he sprinted between two buildings, then ducked behind a rusted-out air-conditioner unit directly across the street. Since there was no question of the man’s skill—he’d managed to pin Jace down for over ten minutes—the
fact that he was using a gun with a stainless-steel finish that caught the light instead of a matte black finish like Jace used probably meant he was an arrogant son of a bitch just daring someone to notice him. Was he Stefano? Another enforcer? Some other lackey Cyprian had hired to protect him and help him take out the Council?
Whoever the man was, hopefully Jace could capitalize on his arrogance to defeat him.
He fit his pistol in the hole left by one of the missing windowpanes, hunkered down, and waited. Five minutes later, he still hadn’t seen any movement. Had the shooter managed to find a side door without Jace seeing him? Maybe a rotted-out hole in the side of the building behind that A/C unit?
“Jace,” Melissa whispered from behind the counter.
“Give me a minute,” he said. “I’ve got the sniper pinned down.”
“Jace.”
The urgency in her voice had him turning around. Her eyes were wide, her face pale. He hurried over to her, staying low to keep from becoming a target.
“What’s wrong?”
She pointed to the other end of the counter. A man lay on his side on the floor, barely visible behind a large bucket, huddled in on himself, facing away from them. Jace grabbed Melissa and shoved her behind him as he aimed his pistol at the other man. But even as he did so, he knew in his gut the man was dead. He was lying more still than a living person could ever manage, and he hadn’t drawn a breath since Melissa had pointed to him.
“I didn’t see him at first,” she whispered. “I was watching you. But suddenly I looked over and . . . I saw him.”
“Stay here.”
“Don’t worry. I will.” She kept her face averted.
He pressed a quick kiss against her forehead, then hurried to the body. He pressed his fingers against the man’s neck, just to be sure. But his skin was cool. There was no pulse. He turned the man’s face toward him. “Son of a . . . it’s one of your tour guides, Garcia.”
“Ethan? Oh, no.”
“Looks like he’s been here at least a couple of hours.” He bent over, noting the dark stain on his shirt, the slashing cut. “He’s been stabbed.”
Melissa shivered. “Why would someone kill him?”
He hurried back to her. “Come on. I have no way of knowing if the sniper is still across the street now or whether he snuck out while I was back here. Let’s work our way to where you said Mason and Devlin disappeared.”
“And where Ramsey was killed.”
He swept her long, curly hair back from her face. “You’re an incredibly brave woman to have come out here the way you did. We just have to get through a few more minutes. All right?”
Her brows slashed down. “Stop talking to me as if I were a child, or a fragile, delicate flower. I’m not going to fall apart.”
“Of course not, sweetheart.”
She rolled her eyes.
He grinned and pulled her with him through the back room to the door that led outside. They paused, looked around, then carefully made their way from building to building: waiting, watching, then sprinting across the few feet that separated each of them.
When they reached the last building, there was nowhere else to go except over the fence behind them into the woods, or down the side of the structure to the street out front. Jace leaned around the corner, belatedly wishing he’d brought a pair of binoculars.
“The saloon is across the street.” He kept his voice low. “That’s where we saw Stefano and your father go earlier. The limo and Mercedes are still parked out front.”
Melissa remained flattened against the back of the building beside him. “What about Ramsey?”
“His body is still there. No one has moved him. I can see a big hole in the street, the sinkhole you mentioned. I need to check it out, see if Devlin and Mason are still alive.”
She sighed heavily. “Isn’t there another way? A safer way? You’ll be in the open, with no cover, vulnerable.”
“There’s no other way. And we can’t wait around, not if Devlin and Mason are hurt.”
“Okay, okay. I know you’re right, but I don’t like it.”
“Me either, but it has to be done. If something happens to me out there, hop that fence and run like hell. Is your car close by?”
“About fifty yards past the fence.”
He hesitated. “Wait, what car did you drive?”
“I think it was Mason’s.”
“His restored 1965 Pontiac GTO? The one I saw in the garage when I left?”
“Yes, why?”
He grinned. “I really hope Mason’s still alive. I want to see the look on his face when he finds out you drove his baby.”
She put her hands on her hips. “What is it with you boys and your toys?”
He shrugged. “If I’m not back in two minutes, get out of here.” He leaned around the edge of the building again, looking for signs of movement out on the street and in the windows of the saloon.
“Jace?” Melissa whispered.
“Yeah?”
“I’m not leaving you.”
He ducked back beside her and gave her a stern look. “Two minutes. And then, yes, you are.”
“Well, you can tell yourself that if it makes you feel better. But it’s not going to happen. I may not be a badass Navy SEAL, but I’m armed. I’m wearing Kevlar. And I think . . . I think I’m falling in love with you, damn it. So I’m not cutting and running and leaving you here by yourself. We’re a team, and I—”
He crushed his mouth to hers and shoved his pistol into his holster. He pulled her against him, cupping her bottom and lifting her so he could get the perfect angle, feeling her heat, her softness against his hardness. It was a mistake. Kissing her right now when he should be keeping watch. But he’d never expected her to say that she was falling in love with him, and hearing that when he was so worried she might get hurt nearly destroyed him.
He finally broke the kiss, gasping for breath, his pulse thudding in his ears. “Damn you, Mel.”
“Ouch. Not the response I was going for.”
He kissed her again, hard, quick, then cupped her face in his hands. “Say it again.”
Her eyes sparkled with humor. “Ouch?”
“Melissa.”
“Okay, okay. I love you, Jace. Somehow, impossibly, since I haven’t known you very long, and shoot-outs aren’t exactly what I call dates, I love you. And I’m miserable about it. Okay? Happy? Now it’s your turn.”
His hands shook as he feathered them across her cheeks and then stepped back. He pulled his pistol out again. “Not yet. You want to know how I feel? Then you had damn well better do everything I say until we make it out of here. Together. Alive. Understood?”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair.” He wanted to yank her to him again and cover her mouth with his, but he’d already let her distract him too long. “There’s nothing else I can do but run out there and hope no one sees me.”
She gripped her pistol in both hands. “I know. Don’t worry. I’ll cover you.”
The first inkling of worry skittered up his spine. “Actually, I’d rather you didn’t. I don’t want to get shot . . . by you.”
“Coward. You have no idea how well I can shoot.”
“I’d rather not find out if the pistol is pointing at me.”
“Just go already.”
“I’ll be right back.” He took off running down the side of the building and didn’t stop until he’d reached the sinkhole. He skidded like a baseball player coming in to home plate, stopping a few feet from the edge and aiming his gun down the street, then at the windows of the saloon. Nothing. No one moving in the shadows or peering out through the broken panes of glass. No sunlight glinting off a stainless-steel gun.
He looked back at Melissa. She was leaning around the corner of the building, still holding her pistol with both hands, watching out for him. Nice in theory, but scary as hell in practice, since he’d never seen her in action and had no idea how accurate she was.
&n
bsp; He set his pistol on the ground beside him and pulled himself right up to the edge of the hole and looked down. It wasn’t as deep as he’d thought, definitely a survivable drop, but it was too deep for someone to get out without a rope or another way out. Since the hole was empty, and there were dark openings that appeared to head under the street, he figured Mason and Devlin had found another way out, maybe an old mineshaft or tunnel, and were hopefully working their way toward an exit.
He grabbed his pistol, checked the saloon windows again and down the street, then took off running toward the building where Melissa was leaning around the corner watching him.
By the time he was close enough to realize how pale she was, it was too late. She was jerked backward, and a man stepped out from the corner of the building, holding a gun to her head.
Stefano.
Chapter Twenty-three
Melissa winced when Stefano pulled her hair, jerking her against him as he aimed his pistol at Jace.
“What do you want?” Jace demanded, holding his hands in the air.
“I want you to toss your weapons. And don’t forget that handy lock pick of yours. I saw that little trick on a camera I installed at Cyprian’s house.”
Jace hesitated.
Stefano yanked Melissa’s hair again, making her gasp at the stinging pain in her scalp.
“Okay, okay,” Jace snapped. “Just stop hurting her.” He tossed his pistol to the ground, along with his other weapons. Lastly, he pulled the tiny lock pick from over his ear and threw it down, too. “There. You can let her go now.”
“I don’t think so. The second I do, you’ll jump me.” Stefano motioned with his gun. “Get moving. That way. And stick to the center of the road. Or maybe I’ll use the knife on my belt to cut her and give you some incentive.”
Melissa shuddered, and Stefano laughed.
After another long look at Melissa, Jace headed down the main street through Enforcement Alley. “What’s the plan, Stefano? Who’s giving you orders? Cyprian or one of the Council members?”