by Maya Banks
P.J.’s lips curled into a snarl and a sound of rage burned deep in her chest and bubbled outward, vibrating her throat. Red clouded her vision. She raised the knife, prepared to end it now.
“Hands up!”
She froze, fear scuttling through her stomach. She turned her head to see two armed men at the corner of the house. They carried assault rifles and they were both pointed at her.
One man jerked the barrel of the rifle in an upward motion to indicate she was to raise her hands.
Fuck. She’d acted like a goddamn rookie seeing her first live action. She’d holstered the gun instead of keeping it out because she’d assumed that the house had been vacated and that all of Brumley’s men had escaped with him. As Steele always said, people who assume are usually the ones who end up dead.
She’d forgotten her training, so eager had she been to exact justice. And now she was going to pay dearly for that mistake.
The two men started forward, their guns never lowering. P.J. kept her hands in the air, the knife still gripped in one of them.
She could probably take one of them out by throwing the blade when they got close enough, but she’d have to rely on the other guy either being distracted or missing if he shot so she’d have enough time to draw her own gun.
As if reading her thoughts, the two spread out, circling in a wide berth around her. Then one motioned for her to get down on her knees.
Her mind buzzed with possibilities. She had to think of a way out of this.
She started downward, taking her time, playing up the injury to her leg as if she were close to dying. She groaned and grunted before settling to her knees. The entire way down, she slowly lowered her empty hand, hoping the men were more fixated on the one holding the knife.
Just a little more . . .
“She’s going for her gun!” Nelson cried out.
P.J. cringed and waited for the bullet to hit her.
To her utter shock, one of the men went rigid. A hole bloomed on his forehead and blood streamed down his face as he slowly crumpled to the ground like a deflated balloon.
She went for her gun and rolled, just as the other man went down, blood splattering everywhere.
A hand grabbed her ankle and jerked. She tried to kick with her injured leg and couldn’t hold back the scream of pain. She came up with a vengeance, launching herself at Nelson. He was desperate to save his ass and she was just as determined to kill him.
She didn’t have time to wonder what the hell had just happened to the other two. If she didn’t take Nelson out, he would take her out.
She doubled her fist and punched him in the jaw. When he reeled back, she jumped on him, knife in hand. He grasped her wrist and squeezed, but she refused to let go of her weapon. She punched him with her free hand, but his grasp didn’t loosen.
Son of a bitch. She wasn’t going down to this bastard and she wasn’t going to let him break her arm.
She lunged forward, head-butting him right in the nose. She saw stars, but he got the worse end of the deal. More blood spurted from his nose and his hand fell away from hers.
Using his moment of distraction, she drew up her knee and then rammed it into his crotch. He yelped and rolled, throwing her off him as he curled into a ball, one hand on his nose and the other cupping his dick.
“You’re a worthless piece of shit!” she raged at him.
She kicked him in the ribs, and then remembering that someone had shot the other two, she dropped down, knife high overhead, and she struck quickly, slashing a line down his chest.
As much as she wanted to make this as ritualistic as the two earlier killings, she knew she didn’t have the time and this had already been a cluster fuck from the very start.
She leaned down close, so he would hear every word.
“This is for every girl you ever tormented, tortured and raped. This is for all those babies you sold into slavery. And this is for me, a woman you had to drug in order to rape. I’m not so helpless this time, asshole.”
The knowledge of his death was in his eyes and she savored it a moment before slicing his throat.
Blood gurgled out and then she heard the hissing sound as air escaped from his lungs. His eyes went glassy and his head lolled to the side.
She closed the knife, stuffed it into her pocket and started to drag herself upward. She hoped to hell one of these damn cars could be hot-wired or she was fucked for transportation. No way could she get back to where she’d parked her vehicle nearly two miles away.
She managed to gain her footing, but she swayed like a sapling in the wind. And then she heard her name. Loud and growing louder with every second.
She turned in bewilderment and then sank to her knees when she saw her entire team burst onto the scene. Cole was in front, his features carved in stone. He was focused on her. His gaze never left her as he ran toward her.
“You were the one who took them out,” she said when he dropped on his knees in front of her.
“Dolphin got one,” he said. “He’s not a bad shot. Not as good as you, but he’ll do in a pinch.”
She couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that her team was here. That they’d come through right when she needed them most. She would be dead if they hadn’t arrived when they had. But why were they here? How?
The question bubbled out. “What are you doing here?”
Suddenly she was shaking so bad that her teeth were clinking together with enough force to chip them.
She stared down at her hands. Hands that were covered in blood. Some hers, but mostly Nelson’s. And they shook uncontrollably. Nothing she could do could stop it.
She should be jubilant. Triumphant. And instead her insides were so cold that she didn’t feel anything at all.
“Did you honest to God think we wouldn’t be here?” Cole demanded.
He sounded furious. The heat in his words scalded her, and yet it was so welcome she wanted to hug him. But there was also worry.
“Where are you hurt?” Cole asked with only a little less edge in his voice.
She looked at him in bewilderment.
Now he sounded impatient. “You’re bleeding, P.J. You’ve got blood all over you.”
“My leg,” she finally managed to get out. “I took a bullet.”
Cole cursed.
As her team gathered, something popped inside her. It was like cutting a taut rope and having it recoil like a viper.
She closed her eyes, the stench of blood and death overwhelming her.
Strong arms surrounded her, pulled her in close and then rocked her gently back and forth.
“It’s all right now, P.J.,” Cole soothed.
He stroked her hair and held her close.
“We’re here to take you home.”
CHAPTER 20
COLE gathered P.J. in his arms and carefully lifted her. Dolphin and Renshaw immediately flanked him to provide cover while he hurried in the direction of their SUVs.
“Open the back,” Cole barked. “I need to be able to stretch her out so we can see how bad the gunshot wound is.”
Dolphin moved ahead when they reached the wooded area where they’d parked the vehicles. He opened the hatch and Cole set her gently down in the cargo area.
He had to pry away her fingers that still clutched the knife, and he was careful that she didn’t panic and react blindly. He still wasn’t that sure she was completely aware of her surroundings. When the knife came free, he rapidly cut away her pants leg so he could assess the wound.
“Jesus, there’s blood everywhere,” Dolphin said grimly.
“Not all of it is hers,” Cole said as he ran his fingers over the hole in her thigh. She flinched when he touched too close to the wound, and he cast her an apologetic look. But she didn’t seem to notice.
His fingers came away bright red with blood, and he stared at it for a long moment. This was her blood, and it made him weak in the knees to imagine what would have happened if they’d arrived even thirty seconds later t
han they had.
P.J. was pale and shaking violently. The bullet wound was just a flesh wound from all he could ascertain. Clean entry and exit. She’d lost blood, but not so much that she would be in shock. It was her emotional state that concerned him the most.
She kept wiping her hands over her shirt, the red blood nearly disappearing in the black material. Then she’d look down, visibly upset that there was still blood staining her palms.
When she started to scrub at her clothing again, Cole took her hands and gently pulled them to him.
“It’s all right, P.J.,” he said in a soothing voice. “I’ve got you. I’ll clean it off. Just give me a minute. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
Donovan, Steele and Baker strode up, sweat glistening on their foreheads. Cole lowered her hands, and she drew them back, wrapping her arms around her legs in a protective gesture.
Cole glanced Steele’s way as Steele gave a terse accounting.
“We cleared the area. P.J. took out several of the guards, but Brumley is unaccounted for. The chopper we saw take off on our way in had to have had him in it.”
“It did.”
They all swung around at the sound of P.J.’s voice to see her sitting up, hunched over her knees, her eyes wild and distant.
“He got away,” she said, and Cole was struck by the devastation in her voice.
Then she put her head down, so her forehead touched her knees.
Cole would have given her his complete attention, but Steele motioned for Cole to follow him. Dolphin motioned Cole away and then took Cole’s place in front of P.J., talking nonsense and bullshit like it was any other day in the field.
“We’ve got a hell of a mess to clean up here,” Steele said in a grim tone. “P.J. will take the fall, no matter what kind of worthless assholes these bastards are. I’m not willing to let that happen. Brumley has clout in Slovakia. He basically owns this area and the village. He is the government here and he has everyone in his pocket. I think initially he would have wanted P.J. alive just so he could make her suffer. But now that she’s shown the very real threat she is, he’ll sanction her death however it has to happen.”
Donovan nodded his agreement. “I’m with you on this. She has to be protected at all times. The threat could come from anywhere. A sniper is a very real possibility.”
Their words had a chilling effect on Cole. His mouth went dry and his pulse pounded painfully at his temples. “I’m not leaving her.”
Steele gave him an impatient look. “I wasn’t going to suggest you do. You and Donovan need to get her the hell out of here. I’ll stay behind with the others to do cleanup and make sure nothing implicates her.”
Donovan looked as though he’d argue, but Steele shut him down cold.
“You’re our medic, and P.J. needs immediate medical care. We can’t take P.J. to a hospital here. We’ve got to get the hell out of this country before Brumley has time to put a bounty on P.J.’s head. Her life won’t be worth a shit now that Brumley knows for certain she’s after him.”
“It’s a through and through,” Cole said to Donovan. “Not too bad, but she’s lost blood and she’ll need antibiotics and stitches.”
Donovan ran a hand through his hair and grimaced in Steele’s direction. “All right. You guys take the scene. Make damn sure none of us can be implicated. KGI doesn’t need this kind of notoriety. I’ll go with Cole and P.J. and cross the border into the Czech Republic. When you guys are done, get your asses out of Slovakia and we’ll hook up after I’ve evaluated P.J.’s condition so we can get the hell home.”
Cole turned away, not waiting to see if there was anything further to be discussed. He wanted to get P.J. out of here. Away from death and blood and painful memories. She was hanging on by a thread. Who even knew what kind of private hell she’d been through over the last several months?
Dolphin stepped away as Cole got to the back of the SUV. P.J. was still sitting, hunched into a ball. She seemed to be trying to make herself as small as possible.
“P.J., you’re going with me and Van and we’re leaving now. You need medical attention, and before you protest, we’re not giving you a choice. You’ll cooperate or . . .”
He sucked in his breath over the mistake he’d nearly made. He was going to threaten to drug her. What an insensitive asshole it made him to even think it.
“Let’s go,” he barked back to Donovan.
Before he put his foot even further into his mouth.
“You drive,” Donovan said. “Dolphin, you and Baker push the back seats forward so she can stretch out. I’ll need to start an IV on the go and I need space to maneuver.”
Then he turned to Cole. It was the first time Cole resented not having the medical training that Donovan had. He wanted to be the one taking care of P.J. and be at her side. He damn sure didn’t want to get stuck driving.
“Get us into the Czech Republic. I don’t care if you have to make a road. Find a way that doesn’t put us in a position of having to identify ourselves or suffer any scrutiny. Leave all the gear with Steele except the bare essentials. We can’t afford to be stopped with a woman with a bullet hole in her leg and an arsenal in the back of our truck.”
Cole leaned into the back and slid his hand over her hair and to her nape, pulling her gently forward. It never occurred to him to be reserved in front of his team. He wasn’t thinking about the team, and he didn’t give a damn what they thought. All he cared about was P.J. and he wanted her to know that she was safe and, more importantly, no longer alone.
She stirred against his touch and looked up, their gazes connecting for a long moment. There was so much in her eyes that hurt him.
“I’m getting you out of here, P.J.,” he said in a low voice. “Van’s going to take care of you, but once we’re safe, you and I are going to have a long talk.”
He pressed his lips to her forehead and then broke away to hurry to the driver’s seat.
CHAPTER 21
P.J. was grateful that Cole was driving as Donovan quietly attended her wound. It gave her time to collect her thoughts and regain her composure.
She’d broken down like some fucking weak-ass ninny who’d never made a kill, who’d never seen blood. She closed her eyes, horrified by the way she’d allowed her team to see her at her most vulnerable. What the fuck were they doing here anyway?
“You okay, P.J.?”
She opened her eyes to see Donovan look worriedly at her. She tried to nod but ended up bumping her head as the SUV hit a series of potholes on the crappy-ass road Cole was driving.
“Yes,” she said, trying to infuse strength into her words. But she still sounded faint even to herself.
Donovan lifted the bag of fluid and secured it to the window with several strips of heavy-duty duct tape. Donovan was nothing if not a master of improvisation.
“I’ve started antibiotics and I’m also going to give you something for pain,” he said. “It’ll make cleaning out and bandaging this wound a hell of a lot easier. I’ll have to stitch you up later. No way I’m going to try to use a suture kit when we’re bouncing off our asses every other quarter mile.”
She smiled faintly but didn’t respond.
Soon she felt the burn of the medication when it hit her veins. A moment later, she relaxed and the pain started to fade into a mellow memory.
Some of her newfound zen was interrupted when Donovan began cleaning away the blood over her wound. She clenched her teeth, stared up at the roof of the vehicle and replayed Nelson’s death in her mind.
She’d never considered herself a bad person. Flawed. Definitely flawed. But even at her lowest points, she’d had enough esteem and honesty to recognize her faults and strengths.
Now she’d entered the gray world where nothing is or was. Had she become the monster that she’d accused Brumley and his entourage of being? Was she no better than he, and was her soul irrevocably tarnished?
She’d hunted down and killed three people in cold blood. Never mind the
others she’d taken out who’d gotten in the way of her objective. It wasn’t self-defense. It wasn’t to prevent her teammates from being killed. It wasn’t to save someone in peril. She’d gone after the assholes who’d been in that room that night with nothing more than revenge on her mind. She’d murdered them viciously with no remorse or pity.
Maybe she was the coldhearted bitch that members of her S.W.A.T. team had accused her of being.
Fuck them. No, she wasn’t going to let them back into her consciousness. That was a lifetime ago. She’d moved on. They weren’t worth the dirt on her boots, and she’d be damned if she let them make her doubt herself now.
She searched her consciousness for some sign of regret. Something that told her she had a soul worth salvaging.
But she didn’t regret their deaths. She didn’t regret making sure they’d never hurt another human being. If that consigned her to hell, then she’d just have to plan a date with the devil.
She wanted to ask Donovan questions, but she bit her lip and remained silent. She didn’t want to open the door, because if she started demanding answers from him, then he’d want the same from her.
“How is she doing?” Cole asked from the front.
The edge in his voice rattled her. It wasn’t like Cole to sound so unhinged. Cole was either utterly focused on the task at hand or he was cracking jokes or hurling insults at his teammates, herself included.
It was a Cole she was familiar with and comfortable with.
But ever since the night they’d slept together, he’d become a different person. Or maybe it wasn’t that he’d become someone different. He was just someone she hadn’t recognized before now.
There was something possessive in his tone that nipped at her. She couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed or . . . Or what? Triumphant? She shook her head, which made her surroundings spin a bit as a result of the meds Donovan had administered.
She needed to stop all this because important conclusions couldn’t be reached when she was high as a kite.
“She’s going to be fine,” Donovan called back. “She kicked some ass and only has one measly bullet wound to show for it. It’s going to hurt like hell for a while and she’s going to be laid up until it heals, but she’s good.”