Two men fell the last twenty feet to the ground.
Cutter barked, a loud, thunderous bark, as if announcing the start of the battle.
The third man had let go and dropped, rolling and stumbling through the loose scrabble at the bottom of the slope. She watched what happened through the fish-eye seeming window, as if it were on a distorted-around-the-edges television screen. The third man fired a blast of automatic fire at Quinn’s cover, bits of rock flying in all directions. Cutter barked, angrily. She could see him, at the foot of the wedge of rock that was giving Quinn cover.
Cutter. The dog didn’t know what shooting meant, did he? He tended to face threats head-on, and had no idea about guns or bullets. He might run out into the line of fire, not realizing—
Even as she thought it, she saw Quinn reach out, lay a hand on the dog’s neck, pulling him back to a safer position. For an instant, Quinn’s head and neck were exposed, open for a shot, and Hayley’s breath caught.
But apparently no one on the approaching force was quick enough to take advantage, and she breathed again as both man and dog were back in the semiprotected position.
He’d risked his life to pull Cutter back to relative safety.
In the instant that registered, three things happened. Cutter spun around to the east, behind them, barking furiously again. Quinn, busy with the man closing in, glanced over his shoulder. And Hayley saw another man, already on the ground and coming up on them from behind. Fast.
Cutter leaped into a run. Quinn whirled. The new threat fired a burst from the same kind of automatic weapon they all seemed to be carrying. But the man was distracted by the dog and the shot went wild. Cutter was on him, a furious whirl of fur and teeth and ferocity. Hayley held her breath yet again, waiting for Quinn to simply shoot, praying that he wouldn’t hit the dog and not seeing how he couldn’t.
But Quinn didn’t shoot. He leaped, much like Cutter had, and the whirl of man and gun and dog seemed to engulf him, too.
Another shot rang out. From the direction of the original attack. She made her decision as quickly as it had all happened. She undid the lock and pushed down on the handle and swung open the door at the same time. She heard Vicente shout, but the words didn’t register. She might have lost her edge as far as hitting a small, quick-moving target, but she could at least keep that other man pinned down.
Three quick blasts from the Mossberg did exactly that, stopped the man heading for the house while Quinn was fighting for his life, stopped him in his tracks. She heard a yell, thought she might actually have hit him with a pellet or two, although that hadn’t really been her goal. She just wanted him to stay put and not shoot.
Her man edged forward. She waited until she could see his leg from the knee down, then sent a shell toward his foot. He jerked backward, swearing as the small storm of pebbles and dust exploded in front of him.
A quick look told her Quinn was back on his feet, standing over the man who had come down behind him. He glanced at her; if he was shocked at her intervention it didn’t show. Nothing did. He was already moving. He looked at Cutter, said something, and the dog raced toward her. Quinn motioned at her to get back inside. He looked almost angry at her.
“You’re welcome,” she muttered, then grimaced at her own idiocy. She reached down to gratefully touch Cutter’s warm fur, and receive a swipe of his tongue in return. At least she could get the dog inside and safe. Quinn had enough to think about, with the surviving men still armed and ready.
Or maybe not so ready; they were climbing back up the ropes, rather gracelessly. For a moment, they were wide-open targets, unable to shoot back with both hands on the ropes as they scrambled upward.
And then Quinn was there, beside her, lifting his rifle, but firing only one round as the survivors vanished over the top of the bluff.
“Gone,” she said in relief.
“They’ll be back,” Quinn said, with a certainty that rattled her.
She watched, feeling rather numb, as Quinn called out to Vicente, who announced he was fine. Liam, Teague and Rafer checked in on the radio, advising the remnants of their own forces were also in retreat. And then he knelt beside Cutter, running his hands over the animal.
“You’re okay?” he said, softly. “Good boy.”
Cutter wriggled in the kind of adoration she’d only ever seen before directed at her. She stared at the dog, but once assured he was all right, she wasn’t really seeing him.
A shiver went through her as Quinn left her side to check the men who were down. Now that the immediate threat was over and her adrenaline began to ebb, the reality of what had happened here struck hard. Men had died here. And Quinn, the man she’d almost convinced herself was sincere, was one of the good guys, had killed three of them practically right in front of her. One apparently with his bare hands, and without sustaining any more than a small cut on his cheek.
And yet all she could think of was the reason he’d had to do it that way, in a hand-to-hand battle that had been terrifying to watch.
He’d done it because he didn’t want to shoot. And there was only one reason for that. He hadn’t wanted to accidentally hit Cutter.
He’d risked serious injury, or even death—although Vicente was right, she had a great deal of faith in Quinn coming out on top in any battle—rather than risk the life of a dog that wasn’t even his.
And that told her more about Quinn than all his sharp comments, strict orders, or cool glances altogether.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“They will not give up,” Vicente warned.
The quietly spoken words, full of conviction, made Hayley shiver.
“I know,” Quinn agreed. “Rafer, long-range recon.”
The man nodded without speaking, and quietly left the room, the lethal-looking sniper rifle still slung over his shoulder, and making his slight limp a very moot point.
In the lull after the fight, they’d all gathered in the cabin for this strategy meeting, which seemed to consist of Quinn snapping orders.
“Teague, check the bird, make sure it didn’t sustain any damage.” The former marine echoed Rafer’s move and left without speaking. Quinn turned to Liam. “Get the package ready to fly.”
He glanced at Vicente then, who looked grim but relieved. And apparently touched by none of the shock that was slowing her reactions, her movement, even her thinking. She shook her head sharply, trying to clear it.
“You ready to give that written statement?” Quinn asked.
Vicente sighed. “I am.”
“Good. Liam, as soon as you’re airborne, fire up that laptop of yours and take some dictation.”
“My mom always said I’d make somebody a good secretary,” the young man said with a grin.
Hayley couldn’t believe he could be so lighthearted after what had just happened here. Again she shook her head, nothing was making sense, although everybody else was acting as if things were perfectly clear.
“We’ll get you out of here safely, sir,” Liam said to Vicente. “Trust us.”
“You have proven yourself willing to die to protect me,” Vicente said, his tone the only one matching how she was feeling inside. “I trust you.”
Belatedly, it occurred to her to wonder what was going to happen to her, now. Would she be evacuated along with…whatever he was?
Protection.
Written statement.
If I do what you ask, they who want it will have no need of me.
Vicente’s words rang in her head, and suddenly the answer seemed so clear she knew she should have seen it before.
They were protecting Vicente. Because of what he would say in that statement. The statement somebody very much wanted.
He was a witness. To something. Something big.
Her only excuse was that protected witnesses were not something she came across in her quiet life. And she would have also assumed protecting a witness was the government’s job. But still, it all fit so perfectly she knew she should have seen it be
fore. Long before.
And that it definitely and safely put Quinn and his team on the side of the angels didn’t hurt any.
But why weren’t those angels protecting their own?
She shook her head a third time, although she didn’t expect it to do any more good than it had before.
“Adrenaline crash,” Quinn said.
Hayley blinked. “What?”
“Adrenaline lets you function under stress, but it also depletes you. Drains you. That’s why you’re shaky, and your head feels fuzzy, like you haven’t slept for a week.”
That’s exactly what it felt like, so she took his words seriously. She fastened her gaze on him. Saw he was looking at her steadily, as if assessing her. He’d done that before, in fact almost constantly, but there was something different about it now. Something different about the way he was looking at her, something different in his eyes.
Something softer.
“That was a nice bit of work you did out there, Hayley. Thank you.”
An anger she couldn’t quite explain sparked through her. “So that’s what it takes to get you to treat me like a human being? Almost killing another human being? And watching you kill three, plus one with your bare hands?”
For a moment the room was so silent she could hear the ticking of the military-style, twenty-four-hour clock on the wall. Her angry words seemed to echo, bouncing around until they sounded harsh even to her. Hadn’t she just decided he really was one of the good guys? And he had risked his life, gone up against seven men alone—well, he and Cutter—to do it. She might have helped, but not much.
And the fact that the goal had been to protect Vicente didn’t change the fact that he’d saved her, too. He had put himself in the line of fire with full intent and knowledge, and here she was, snapping at him.
“The crash also saps your governors,” he said quietly. “makes you lash out, do and say things you wouldn’t if you weren’t so drained.”
She was feeling like an idiot now. “But you’re completely calm.”
“I’ve learned to control it, over the years. The adrenaline surge, and the crash.” He very nearly smiled at her. She was almost glad he’d stopped himself. She wasn’t sure she could withstand that. Instead he quietly restated what’d he’d said before.
“You did good out there. You shouldn’t have done it, mind you, and I should be chewing you out for stepping outside when I told you to stay safe, but once you did, you did good.”
She stared at him. “Well, if that isn’t the most backhanded, double-sided, damned-with-faint-praise compliment I’ve ever heard.”
The smile came then, leaving Hayley breathless, and with the unmistakable impression that she’d just played right into his hands.
“Now that’s the Hayley we’ve come to know and love,” Liam quipped.
She realized suddenly that the jitters had stopped. The trembling she’d noticed, like shivers from a nonexistent cold, had ebbed. And she knew with a sudden certainty that had been Quinn’s aim. He’d gently jabbed at her to get her to think about something other than what she’d just witnessed.
And she also noticed that at Liam’s words, Quinn’s expression had changed again, softened even more. It was an infinitesimal shift around his eyes and mouth, but it had happened. Either he wasn’t hiding as well, or she was learning to read him. She wasn’t sure how to feel about either option.
“Bird’s good, boss.”
Teague’s voice crackled over the radio. Quinn spoke into the mic on his shirt collar. “Give it another twenty, to full dark, then fire her up.”
“Copy.”
Full dark. She’d been so wrapped up in what had happened she hadn’t even realized how close they were to darkness.
“That’s how much time you have,” Quinn said to Vicente, who merely nodded and turned to walk back to the bedroom, Liam on his heels.
He shifted his attention back to Hayley. “You, too.”
“Good thing I have nothing to pack,” she said, thankful she’d kept up on the laundry, alternating her own clothes with the sweats and T-shirt from the cabin’s stock. She was in her own now, so she didn’t even have to change.
Once more he stood there, assessing her. She held his gaze, glad her voice had been relatively steady.
And then, slowly, Quinn smiled at her. And unlike the first time, there was no ulterior motive, no jab to jolt her out of the shivering aftermath of the adrenaline rush. Just a genuine smile.
“You’ll do, Hayley Cole. You’ll do.”
For an instant she thought she should be offended; who was he to make that judgment? But reality forestalled her; he was the man who obviously knew what they were facing and how to deal with it.
Belatedly it struck her just how ruthless the men after Vicente must be. They were willing to kill four men, an innocent bystander and a dog to get to him. And sacrifice several of their own to do it.
And Quinn was convinced they hadn’t quit, they’d merely retreated to regroup for another attack. He hadn’t been wrong yet.
It was the fastest twenty minutes of her life. In the moment she realized the light had faded, she heard the distinctive sound of the helicopter’s engine starting up. Moments later Vicente and Liam emerged from the back of the cabin, Liam with the older man’s duffel over his shoulder.
“I’ll get the go bags,” Quinn said. “You—” He stopped suddenly, one hand snapping to his ear, indicating he was listening. Liam obviously heard the same thing, because instantly he began to hustle Vicente toward the door.
“Get back here, Rafer. The bird’s live.” Quinn turned to her. “Let’s go. They’re on the move. We’ve got only minutes.”
She didn’t waste time arguing, not after what she’d seen today. “Cutter,” she called, sharply enough that the dog, who had been pacing restlessly, knew she meant business. He was at her heels in seconds.
By the time she got outside, Quinn at her elbow, Cutter sticking close, Vicente and Liam were already aboard. Hayley’s heart leaped when she saw a figure approaching from the west, but calmed again when she recognized Rafer’s slightly impaired but seemingly unslowed run. By the time Quinn had helped her and Cutter aboard, he was there.
Rafer glanced inside the helicopter, lingering for a moment on Teague, at the controls. Then he looked back at Quinn.
“Why’d you call me back?”
“Get on board.”
Rafer shook his head. “You know we’re pushing the limit as it is.”
“Get on board.”
“We’ll never make it with all of us.”
“I know. Get on board.”
“Somebody needs to lay down cover—”
“I know. Get on board.”
“Boss—”
“Do it. My decision.”
As Rafer complied with obvious reluctance, Quinn shifted his own gaze to Teague and raised his voice to be heard. “Head north until you’re over the horizon. Then get the package—and the civilian—to location Z. Do what you have to do. Once you’re clear, contact Charlie. No reason not to now, they’ve already found us.”
Teague nodded. She was obviously the civilian, she guessed, but location Z? Hayley’s mouth quirked; that was a corny name if ever she’d heard one. She was a little surprised she could even muster that much reaction, after everything—
It hit her then.
We’ll never make it with all of us.
Somebody needs to lay down cover—
I know.
Rafer’s argument suddenly made sense. Quinn was going to stay behind. He’d ordered Teague to take off, and leave him behind. Lay down cover. He was going to stall them, hold them off until they were clear.
“Quinn, no!”
The words broke from her involuntarily. Quinn’s gaze shifted. And he gave her that smile again, that smile that changed everything.
“Stay safe, Hayley.”
As he said those words to her for the second time, she wondered for an instant if that was what he alw
ays said when he headed into a situation he didn’t expect to come out of.
It was crazy. He knew that, he had to know that, it would be just him against all the men who were left. He was good, she couldn’t doubt that after what she’d seen, but they’d be looking for blood, revenge. They’d already proved they were ruthless. She had no doubts anymore that Vicente’s story of his head making the trip home without him was nothing less than the truth.
But Quinn was going to make sure they got away safely.
No matter the cost.
Even if it was his life.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The rotors began to turn as Teague focused on preparing for takeoff. In desperation Hayley looked at Rafer, who was seated in the copilot’s seat now. He returned her gaze, letting the full knowledge of what was happening show in his eyes.
“He’d have my head if I didn’t follow his orders.”
“So instead they get his?”
Rafer looked surprised, then bemusement spread across his usually expressionless face. Followed by an unexpected smile she didn’t understand.
Her head snapped back to Quinn, who was loading Vicente’s duffel behind the second seat. Before she could speak he stepped back and reached for the helicopter’s door as the pitch of the engine changed, escalated to full power, making any further conversation impossible.
Teague made the final adjustments she now recognized. She could still see Quinn through the narrowing gap as the door began to slide shut.
Cutter gave a sharp yelp. He was looking at Quinn as well, and apparently realizing the object of his adoration was not coming with them.
The dog exploded into frenzied motion, startling Hayley and breaking free. He leaped to the ground beside Quinn. He looked back at Hayley, barking urgently, audible even above the helicopter’s engine. Instinctively, without thought, as had become habit, she moved to retrieve her dog.
The door nearly caught her as it slid shut. She hastily stepped down to the skid, and the door latched behind her. She gasped as she saw the gap between the helicopter’s skid and the ground, realized they were already lifting off.
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