by Lea Griffith
“We are taught from the time we begin learning our trade we are the very best at what we do. Unfortunately, the men Joseph trains believe that to the nth degree. In their haste to beat their chests and roar, they do not seek deeper understanding and the realization that no matter how good you are, there is always someone better. It opens him to mistakes. My sisters and I excel at what we do because we know the shadows. We know when to hide, when to be seen. Damon is grossly overconfident. And he will pay for it tonight.”
Adam agreed with her. His grandfather taught him no matter how many gifts the Great Spirit bestowed upon one man, there was the potential that another was out there with even more. Adam learned that lesson long ago.
“So you are not the best archer in the world?” he asked, hoping to piss her off. The flatness of her tone rankled Adam for some reason.
“No,” she answered but there was a smile in her voice.
Well damn, he thought. He’d never figure out what buttons to push with this woman. At least that note of death was gone.
“But I am pretty fucking good.”
“All you bitches are good at what you do,” he said with a wry twist of his lips.
“What is with this constantly calling my sisters and me female dogs?”
A laugh caught him unaware. “Simple turn of phrase.”
She cocked her head and there was no escaping her gaze this time—it was hot, stirred him right the fuck up. “Stop the merry-go-round.”
He bowed his head hiding his smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
Adam blinked and she dissolved into the shadows she spoke of. He opened his mind and his senses, became aware of the slight breeze rapidly cooling the sweat on his body. His ears picked up the whispering sound of her feet moving along the pine needle-covered earth and he took off after her.
As he followed the signs of her path, he realized she was letting him do so. At one point he lost her and she laughed from somewhere behind him. He was forced to acknowledge he followed her because she allowed it. Right now, they were about to scale the fence that surrounded the property.
“You’ll need to tell whoever rides this fence that there is a weakness in this sector,” she said.
“Yeah? It’s monitored 24/7. Where’s the weakness?”
“Not where, who. The person manning the camera when I came through last night is the weakness,” she responded in a hard voice.
Adam went cold and put out a hand, touching her shoulder to prevent her from scaling the fence. She turned to him and the moonlight picked that moment to display her face in a shaft of silver. Beautiful. His hand shook and he fisted it to keep from reaching for her, pulling her to him.
It was fucking crazy how much he wanted her. His body tightened and his mind shut down to everything but Saya. He cursed and pulled out his SAT phone.
“Tell Raines to find out which of his men guarded Sector seven last night. And tell him to hold that man until I get back,” he told Rand and then hung up the phone.
“You realize,” she whispered, her eyes literally glowing in the ambient light, “that you’ll have to kill him. And that most likely, Damon knows we’re hunting him.”
Adam cursed again. “Yeah. I do.”
She nodded and for an insane moment Adam wanted to pull the pin from her hair and watch the silky, black tresses flow around her body. He wanted to sink his hands into the ebony strands and pull her hard to him, feast on her mouth and—
“We don’t have time for you to fade out, Mr. Collins,” she said ruefully.
He fisted his hands and squeezed, hard. “You try me, Saya,” he said, keeping his voice low. “You have no idea how much you try me.”
She nodded again. Seemed the woman was forever agreeing with him…but not really.
“For the length of our acquaintance, Mr. Collins, this will probably remain true,” she said solemnly.
He glanced at the fence, knowing she didn’t but asking anyway, “Do you need a boost?”
She ignored him. He sighed. Then she was up and over, a flowing fall of dark water. Adam followed her, and without even a small exchange of planning or words, they began to move of one accord.
She went left and he went right. That kept him in the most vulnerable position and he didn’t stop to wonder at his desire to protect her. He accepted it as his right as male, dominant. She was female, therefore weaker and in need of his protection.
God, how she would laugh at him, and yet he could no more stop the need running through him to keep her safe than he could stop breathing. It would be the same with any woman.
Her angle and placement would put her behind the shooter provided she didn’t encounter other tangos. His scalp prickled.
Adam stilled, settled behind a large pine and waited. He closed his eyes, opened his mind, and waited. When he opened his eyes, the woods were incandescent and to his right, approximately ten yards away, stood a man with a gun pointed in Adam’s direction.
Fuck! He wore NVGs. The man’s head turned and Adam went to his knee, lifting his pistol and firing one shot. The man dropped immediately. Adam approached quickly but carefully kicked the man’s high-powered rifle away. He reached for a pulse. It’d been a kill shot.
The sound of his gun discharging gave away their presence and Adam felt a peculiar tug in his chest and began heading to where he thought Saya would now be.
It took him a few minutes, but no more shots rang out. He made it to where she’d been heading and found death. Three men down and he wasn’t surprised to find Saya at his back moments later.
“Good thing I can smell you,” she whispered in his ear.
His body hardened and he wanted to rail at the injustice of that. Even in the midst of danger his body betrayed him. “Where is he?”
She stepped around him, calm, shut down, and he knew she’d killed every man he’d seen lying on the ground.
She pointed. “Through those trees. I’ll approach from the front. You come in from behind, but be prepared, Damon is fast and deadly. He likes to play with his quarry but will shoot first even if we’re ‘capture in lieu of kill’ for Joseph.”
“Let’s do it,” Adam affirmed.
She disappeared, and it was fucking eerie how she and Bullet could be in a space one minute and gone the next. Adams’s SAT phone vibrated and he ignored it, knowing Rand would be on his way to them right now. He probably wanted a sitrep but that wasn’t happening right now.
Ahead, Adam heard low murmurs and approached cautiously. Two people, one of them Arrow, the other Adam assumed was Damon Hunstall.
“You won’t win in this, Damon. Let me end it for you quickly,” Arrow encouraged.
Adam could see the vague outline of a man’s larger shape between two trees before the moon peeked from behind a cloud, highlighting him completely.
“You’re ‘kill on sight,’ Arrow. You and your sisters,” Hunstall spit out, but there was a slight tremor to his voice.
Fear? Adam rejected the idea. None of Joseph’s people were given to fear. They may feel it, but not even the few they’d managed to capture gave anything over in fear. No, that tone was something else and it worried Adam.
“I think I may fuck your corpse before I take you back, though,” Hunstall said.
Adam ground his teeth. Disgust curled through him and white-hot rage followed it. That tremor was excitement, lust. Not fear. By God, he’d never talk to her that way again.
Adam stepped into the circle of moonlight. This put him closer to Hunstall and about three feet from Saya. He completely ignored her warnings, intent only on killing the man in front of them.
“Oh, lookee here, Adam Collins! Two for the price of one. But you, I think, I probably won’t fuck. I’ll just put a bullet in your brain and steal the prize.” The man laughed maniacally after his pronouncement.
“Damon, Damon, Damon,” Saya tsked. “You’ve broken so completely you shame me. Did I not teach you how to control yourself? Did I not teach you how to find your center and control the
lusts that sweep you when you hunt? Joseph was a fool for sending you. I’ve smelled you for days, the scent of your perversion is a stink on the wind.” Arrow steadily moved closer, tiny steps the man before them probably didn’t even realize she’d taken but steps closer just the same.
The moon stepped back behind a cloud and Hunstall moved, going straight for Saya. She sidestepped his rush and turned, striking with her fist to the man’s temple. Hunstall stumbled, righted himself, and turned, a flash of silver giving away his plan.
“Gun!” Adam yelled, and took two steps toward Saya.
Saya held her hand up in the universal gesture for Adam to stop. But Hunstall had another plan. The man pivoted and aimed his gun at Adam.
“Do not, Damon. I will make your death painful,” Saya said softly.
Even Adam’s heart stopped beating at the menace in her tone.
“You’ll do nothing except die with him, bitch,” Damon shouted.
The man was beyond a loss of control. Fear rose like a rancid stink from his skin, sweat dotted his forehead, and the hand holding the gun shook violently. Saya was right, the man before them was broken, conditioning fragmented to the point of insanity.
Then Saya was there, between Adam and Hunstall. Her gaze met his and in them Adam saw acceptance and a plea he couldn’t name. He would have yelled for her to move, but it was too late, she was in front of him.
The report of Hunstall’s gun was loud in the sudden silence. Adam felt her body jerk, heard her gasp as her eyes sought his, the golden depths pulling him deeper and deeper. Alarms sounded and within less than ten seconds light illuminated the area around them. Hunstall was gone.
“Goddamn it, Saya,” he breathed out as he laid her on the ground, searching frantically for a wound. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, and her eyes closed slowly.
“No, no, no!” Adam shouted as desperation made his hands shake. “Medic!” His body went cold as he located her wound. It was the fleshy part of her abdomen, though on Arrow, there wasn’t much flesh.
“Dmitry says apply pressure,” Raines yelled as he came up on the scene.
She was pale and bleeding profusely. Her mouth moved and he lowered his head.
“Flesh wound, through and through. Get him,” she said but the words were weak. “He ran so he’s probably afraid of failure. I wasn’t the kill on sight.” She coughed. “You were. He’ll come back for you or pick off the babies one at a time to redeem himself.”
“Raines, hold this down,” he spit at the other man who immediately moved to do Adam’s bidding.
“You’ll survive this, Arrow, no problems. You understand me?” Adam growled in her face.
She looked at if she’d say something then smiled as she lifted her right hand and flipped him off. Adam growled for real this time. Raines barked out a laugh.
“Tell Rand western perimeter. We’ll hem him in and blow his fucking brains out,” he ordered Raines.
He glanced once more at Arrow and turned away. She’d better be fucking fine. And he’d bring her Damon’s head on a platter.
Chapter Nine
Hunstall moved like the hunter Arrow called him. Silent and blending with the shadows, he was difficult to locate but not impossible. Not for the grandson of a Sioux Chieftain who had a little revenge on his mind.
Arrow’s face flashed across Adam’s brain, motivating him as did the smell of her blood on his hands. He didn’t know what was going on behind him, had no earpiece, and he’d dropped the SAT phone on the ground beside Arrow.
He blanked his mind, opened his eyes, and found Hunstall among some boulders about a hundred yards ahead. Adam sank behind a pine tree and planned. In his mind the terrain he’d just seen displayed in vivid detail and he mapped out his approach. Adam’s job in Rangers had been reconnaissance but he was also sniper rated. Recon took all matter of patience and he’d been suited to the task perfectly. He could go in position and not move for days, which also made him sniper material.
He pictured Hunstall as the man fired his weapon, remembered clearly the grin on his face as Arrow sagged in Adam’s arms. A peculiar rage invaded Adam’s mind, made his blood thrum heavily through his veins and heated his skin. He’d hurt her, and harming a woman never sat well with Adam.
Killer or no killer, Arrow was all woman. And hunter or no hunter, Hunstall was Adam’s.
“I know you’re out there, Collins,” Hunstall yelled.
Adam remained silent as he catalogued the shades of crazy in Damon Hunstall’s tone. Arrow had taunted him, apparently not prepared for the fact that Hunstall would kill them both. While that didn’t ring quite true to Adam, he went with it.
“Drop the gun, Hunstall, and I’ll let you live,” Adam called out.
“You drop yours, Collins, and I’ll let you die quickly.” Silence reigned for a few moments and even the crickets stilled. “Is the bitch dead?”
“No.” Adam kept his reply short. Hunstall liked to talk, thereby giving away his location.
“She’ll die eventually. If not by me, then one of the others he’s sent,” Hunstall bit out.
Adam waited.
“He’ll kill them all.” The crazy man laughed then and it was acidic. “He always kills them all.” Closer now.
“Not her,” Adam said firmly.
“Yes, goddamn it, her! He’ll put her in the dark and leave her. She’ll cry and beg and plead and he’ll just…leave her.” Hunstall’s voice was a whisper now. Ten more feet…
What the fuck was the man going on and on about? It made no sense but chills danced along Adam’s arms and there was a warning on the wind.
“Arrow was his favorite for a time. First it was Bullet, then Arrow. And she betrayed him. Now she’ll pay and Joseph never takes half-measure. You could ask Bullet about that,” Hunstall said, and in his tone was the sound of recollection.
Hunstall had been there when Bullet was being harmed. And he’d liked it. Hunstall wanted to be there to see Arrow hurt. Adam slowed his pulse, pushed the anger down, and waited. Two more steps, motherfucker.
“I see you,” Hunstall whispered.
Adam knifed the man in the calf, barely missing a startled shot from Hunstall as he fell. Adam was on him then, wrapping his forearm around the man’s throat and squeezing. It took ten seconds for the man to blackout. He had the man in flex cuffs and was cleaning his knife when Rand came up on the scene.
“Goddamn it, Adam, you should have waited,” Rand growled.
Adam pointed at Hunstall. “I did.”
“Is he dead?”
“Not yet,” Adam said in a mild voice. Their team called the tone Adam’s kill voice. “Is Dimitry working on her?”
Rand cocked his head. “Yeah. Why do you care?”
Adam didn’t reply, just walked in the direction of the house. The feeling of a hundred bees crawling under his skin had attacked him moments ago and he recognized it was tied to Saya. He had to see if she was okay, the uncertainty, the not-knowing driving him batty.
“Do you want to be there?”
Adam stopped then and breathed in deeply. “Fuck, yes.”
“We’ll house him in the barn,” Rand replied.
“You do that,” Adam said quietly. “But don’t kill him. He’s Arrow’s.”
“Bullet said she can’t handle any more death.”
Adam shrugged. “If she can’t, I can.”
Rand grunted at his words. “You don’t know what you’re doing, Adam. Not with her.”
“I’m not doing anything, Rand. Not one fucking thing,” Adam bit out and stalked away from his friend.
“She’ll take you apart,” Rand said. “Piece by piece. It’s already started.”
Adam kept walking. There was nothing to say to that. She’d stepped in front of a bullet for him. The truth was Arrow wasn’t so much taking him apart as chipping away at something he’d thought belonged to another.
As much as he wanted to hate her, that anger was falling by th
e wayside. The smell of death was all around. Four men lost their lives in these woods tonight. He should be on the phone handling things like body disposal, and then there was Damon Hunstall to deal with.
One foot in front of the other and his heart quickened—the need to see her, watch her breathe overriding all other necessities. The lights of the house appeared and Adam began to run again. The sooner he got there, the sooner he could berate her.
•●•
A voice as deep as the night that pressed on her called Saya’s name. She tried to push away the offending blackness, but the voice soothed, offering succor if she would just give in and stop fighting. Agony ripped through her as a heated brand invaded her side. Still the darkness reached for her.
“I will not break!” She fought the incessant roil of the shadows and struck, satisfied when her hand met flesh.
The blackness shifted away with a curse.
If only she could curve her hand around her yumi and ya, then she would pierce the night around her with a hundred arrowheads—puncture the death that called to her and she would have no mercy.
“I will not break!”
Hands held her down now and she fought. They were cold instruments of torture and Saya longed for the warmth of her mahogany crossbow, anything to fight the pervasive iciness of the hands gripping her.
She could not breathe, felt her throat closing, and knew there were limited opportunities to defeat the end that stalked her.
“Watashi no nikushimi o kanjiru,” she whispered, and the pain intensified, spreading from her side and invading her mind. “Watashi no ikari o kanjiru.” Feel my hate. Feel my pain. She wanted to rail, rip, and rend, but the blackness was oppressive.
Over and over she chanted in the dark, finally acquiescing when the soothing voice returned. She wouldn’t give in to the black, but she could bear it if that voice continued to stroke along her skin.
“Please,” she murmured, the growing tension in her body causing her to tremble. She wanted to rock back and forth, press her hands against her ears, because even as the voice soothed it reminded her of things yet undone.