Exchange of Fire

by P. A. DePaul

  Two clicks.

  She glanced over her shoulder, blinking the black spots of pain away. “Two clicks means yes or he agrees. One click means no or negative. Three clicks means he understood and will follow an order.”

  Grady dipped his chin. “Got it.”

  Sandra stayed low and jogged to the edge of the deck; she could sense Grady right behind her. The rail of the deck splintered. The shot was almost perfect, hitting within the two inches of wood between her and Grady.

  “Go, go, go,” Grady barked, pushing against her back.

  She stumbled, not accounting for the extra weight of the gun. Stupid! She hefted the barrels higher and ran as hard as she could. Without warning, a bullet whizzed by so close, she felt the heat as it rocketed past and lodged into the grill.

  She veered to the left and picked up her pace, her heart now wedged in her throat. Damn, that was close. She entered the tree line, praying the various sizes of trunks would give her the cover she needed.

  The canopy overhead acted like a leaky umbrella, filtering out the brunt of the rain. Her visibility improved, but that meant Mars could see better too.

  “Let’s split up but keep our line moving forward at the same pace,” Grady whispered.

  Two clicks from Cappy.

  She took the left while Grady continued forward on the right. She didn’t measure her steps or try for stealth. She wanted to be heard. Leaves and twigs crunched under her feet as she zigzagged on a nonexistent path.

  Another bullet lodged into the tree beside her.

  With her pulse racing and adrenaline pumping, she corrected her course. If she calculated the trajectory right, Mars should be ahead on her right.

  She dove behind a thick trunk.

  Plunk. Plunk.

  The leaves shook from the impact of the two bullets. Damn, without the rain to act as a disguise, Mars’s accuracy was improving.

  She corralled her shaky fingers into releasing the lever and opened the shotgun. She slammed it shut, hoping the noise would carry to Mars.

  Two clicks.

  “Grady,” Sandra whispered as softy as she could, “Cappy’s in position.”

  Two more clicks.

  Okay. Guess that meant Grady grasped the nonverbal way of communicating with her team.

  She blew a breath out. Let’s do this. She pivoted from behind the tree and ran forward, straight toward where she suspected Mars hid. Bullets buzzed by but she kept running, ducking behind a tree when she got within a few yards.

  Plunk.

  “Face me like a man, asshole,” Grady yelled. “Stop hiding behind your gun.”

  No response.

  “What are you doing, Grady?” Sandra asked through clenched teeth.

  Nothing. Damn it.

  Crack!

  What the hell was that?

  Plunk.

  Plunk.

  One bullet nailed her tree, but not the second one. Mars must know both her and Grady’s positions.

  She flicked her head around and took in the area before straightening again.

  Crack!

  Leaves rustled and the cracking got louder.

  She slowly angled until she could peer around the tree with one eye.

  Thwump! The ground shook and a puff of leaves flew off the ground. Mars landed on top of the broken limb and flailed to disentangle himself from the branches now jacked up from the fall.

  Pffffftttt.

  That was from a different gun. Cappy.

  The assassin jerked and whirled, firing his sniper rifle. A ring of white bandages encircling his throat steadily grew redder with each movement. He ran forward, zigzagging in the trees as he lined up a shot at Cappy’s kneeling figure.

  Pffffftttt. Pfffftttt. Cappy nailed Mars in the chest and thigh, but the bullets didn’t have any impact. Like a crazed man on PCP, Mars continued running and kicked Cappy in the head, then knocked his gun away.

  “I owe you pain, asshole,” Mars rasped.

  She was the closest to help. Even though she heard Grady thrashing through the trees, he was still too far away.

  She raced for the next tree and lifted the shotgun. She sighted down the barrel and the forest disappeared. Baking sun fried her shoulders and the leg cramps from lying on the Mexican rooftop in one position most of the night whined for relief. Exposure! Her sniper rifle gently rocked back into her shoulder. NO! The fourteen-year-old lurched, her face morphing from terror to confusion. Wraith couldn’t hear the scream, but imagined it just the same as the girl fell against the mastermind in slow motion. Her small hand reached toward Wraith as if to beg for help.

  But Wraith didn’t have the power to stop the garish red stain spreading across the girl’s shirt.

  Chapter 41

  Son of a bitch! Grady plowed through the undergrowth. Thorns and stickers tore into his clothes and skin, trying to hold him back.

  “Take the shot,” he shouted again, dodging around a tree. “What are you waiting for?”

  Sandra remained frozen.

  The assassin knocked the gun out of Cappy’s hands.

  Grady reached into the bottom of his reserves and ran as fast as he could, swerving past the trees he could no longer see. He had to get to Cappy in time.

  Inexplicably, Mars suddenly jerked, his rifle barrel now drifting toward the ground. That hesitation gave Grady the extra second he needed. He slammed into the closest trunk and aimed, firing directly at the back of Mars’s head.

  Blood and gore flew from the assassin as his body jolted, then crumpled to the ground. Cappy shook his head and sat up, inches from the dead body. Grady closed the distance and found a knife protruding from Mars’s throat and part of his skull missing.

  “Cappy.” Talon’s voice rang in Grady’s earpiece. “Without any sudden movements, slowly lie down.”

  Without questioning the weird order, Cappy did as he was told.

  Grady whipped his gun up and aimed at the fast-paced rustling heading for them. His finger hovered near the trigger but relaxed when Talon appeared, holding up his hands. The points of two knives made a grizzly picture of surrender.

  “Wraith,” Talon crooned softly, though Grady could now hear him without the need of the team’s hardware. “Can you hear me?”

  Grady snapped his gaze to the left and cursed.

  “Wraith?” Talon said again, inching his hands down and holstering the knives.

  Sandra remained frozen. Her soaking-wet green T-shirt was plastered to her body and her running shorts were stuck to her legs. The shotgun in her locked arms shook as she continued to sight down the barrel. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her mouth open as if uttering a soundless scream.

  A chill skirted down Grady’s spine. How the hell did he miss the signs of PTSD?

  “Sweetheart?” Talon said, causing Grady’s clenched fists to spasm. “I’m approaching on your left, okay?” He carefully moved forward, his gait smooth and unhurried. “Can you lower the gun for me?”

  She gave no indication she’d heard a word.

  “We’ve done this before, haven’t we?” Talon continued talking conversationally. “We came off that roof together, didn’t we?”

  Oh Christ. She must have flashed back to the day she killed the little girl. Had Talon been the one to rescue her then too? Of course he did. Why would Fate decide to like me at this moment when she’s been a bitch the rest of the time? his mind groused at the same time his caveman instincts sprang to life.

  “Wraith, lower the barrel, please,” the bastard said, maneuvering around the back of the tree and standing beside her. “Mars is dead. Sanchez is dead. You don’t need to stand watch anymore.” Talon looked at Cappy. “I’m going to reach out to her next. You ready to roll?”

  “No.” Grady jammed his gun back into the MOB holster. “Let me talk to her. She’s not hearing you.”

  Fury passed over Talon’s face.

  Tough shit.

  “Let Grady try,” Cappy replied softly, his body tense for action.

>   Grady closed the distance, and Talon reluctantly moved out of the way.

  Christ. Sandra’s whole body trembled. Tears splashed against the metal and wood of the 410 shotgun, and her skin appeared bloodless, so white and pasty.

  “Wraith,” Grady said gently. “Sandra, lower your weapon. The threat is over.”

  More tears cascaded out of her eyelids.

  Talon shifted impatiently behind him. He could almost hear the bastard gloating about how Grady’s opening line failed and he could do so much better.

  Prick needed to back the fuck off.

  “Sandra, it’s Grady. I’d like to get out of the rain. Put on a pair of nice dry sweats. Drink a beer. Maybe throw on the baseball game.” Not that I have a TV anymore. He kept idly chatting about things that represented warmth and comfort. Peaceful settings and the safety they represented usually worked to calm a stressed individual. Reminding them of the hell they were mentally experiencing would only prolong the standoff.

  The barrel wavered.

  “That’s right, sweetheart. You can put on one of my shirts.” He chuckled warmly, trying to hide the strain. “It’ll be too big like the last time, but that won’t matter. You’d make a trash bag look good.”

  Sandra blinked rapidly, her mouth slamming shut.

  “Good girl,” Grady crooned, placing his hand just underneath where she supported the barrel’s weight. “I’m going to hold this for you, okay?” He clasped her fingers and forced the gun to point up.

  At the same time, Cappy executed a roll out of the line of fire.

  Sandra flinched, but she didn’t pull the trigger.

  As if someone woke her from a dream, she scanned the forest with uncomprehending eyes until they landed on the shotgun now in Grady’s grip.

  As long as he lived, he’d never forget the way her face crumpled and the wail ripping from her throat. He checked the safety and shoved the gun into Talon’s hands.

  “Shhh,” Grady whispered, gathering her into his arms. “It’s over. You’re all right.”

  She buried her head into his chest, her arms tucked in tight against her. Soul-wrenching sobs poured out of her just like Talon had described yesterday. Grady resisted the urge to glare over his shoulder. Had the prick gleefully held her then too? Probably. Grady envisioned pounding the man into the ground and felt a little better for it.

  Rips and tears filled her shirt, and he did the best he could to console her without jarring the profusion of wounds. That bastard Mars needed shooting again.

  “Romeo,” Cappy barked.

  Grady turned enough to see the CO holding a phone to his ear and Talon searching the assassin’s pockets.

  “Mars is dead,” Cappy announced to the caller. “No one’s seriously injured. We still need to do a perimeter search, but I think we’re clear. Someone would’ve attacked us by now if he had a partner.”

  Cappy paused, his eyes sliding over the woods before landing on him and Sandra.

  “Head to Command Central and pick up the first aid supplies. Someone’ll call you back when I know we’re clear. Bring the stuff here.”

  Chapter 42

  Sandra shivered and leaned against the back of the house. The rain had lessened from Noah-build-your-ark to “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head.”

  Her eyes gravitated to Grady breaking the cover of the tree line into the backyard clearing. His rugged handsomeness and masculine gait grabbed her every single time. Add the latest soldier persona and her knees weakened. She bet her heart would stop if he had on his cammies from his Marine days.

  Though Cappy practically lived in a scaled-down version of his old Army BDUs, Grady would make his set seem both fierce and cover model at the same time.

  Grady stopped and waited for Cappy, who now held that wretched shotgun and emerging from the tree line, and Talon to approach from stashing his bike in Grady’s oversized garage.

  She shifted and inhaled at the sharp pain radiating from her shoulder blade. Bone-deep exhaustion pulled her into a weird state of numbness, and she blinked the bleary tunneling away. How could she freeze like that? Her big chance to show not only Grady but herself that she was invested in this fight. That she didn’t expect everyone else to take care of it for her. Imitating a marble statue? Seriously?

  Getting shot at tonight and failing to eliminate the threat taught her a few things. One, tritely thinking she was “in love” with Grady didn’t begin to capture the deep emotion harbored within her soul. The exigency to protect him at all costs had been the only thing she could think of once Mars had begun shooting. Two, thinking she could just pick up a gun and shoot it again was a joke, a colossal oversight. And three . . . She swallowed at three, her body protesting.

  She had to give up Grady.

  No! Don’t run away, her heart pleaded. We can fight. She adjusted her stance, resisting the compulsion to rub her aching chest. I’m not running. Grady was definitely worth fighting for, but he didn’t deserve the kind of life she’d bring. Assassins, crooked CEOs, danger from unknown sources. Gradwick was his dream, and nothing should ever threaten the sanctity he’d built.

  “Talon,” Cappy barked through her earpiece, making her jump. She’d forgotten she had it on. The men all faced one another in the clearing, Cappy was the only one without a covering on his head against the rain. Grady had his hood up and Talon had on a baseball cap. “You’re supposed to be guarding your asset. What are you doing here?”

  “Saving your ass,” Talon retorted. “Romeo and Magician were enough to keep Ted safe.” Talon held up a finger as if to tell them to wait, then said, “Romeo, it’s safe.”

  “I figured by the warm reception you got,” Romeo quipped, obviously close by if he was using the comms. “Told you Cappy would be pissed.”

  “Bite me.”

  “You may be a handsome devil, but not on your life.”

  “Everyone, shut it,” Cappy interrupted. “Talon, not the point and you know it. Grady’s shot killed Mars just as much as your knife saved me.”

  Talon’s free hand balled into a fist and he looked at Grady. Sandra could only imagine the cold, angry expression most likely filling her former teammate’s face. To not be credited with the kill would definitely piss Talon off, but to be given equal billing with Grady, a man Talon loathed for some reason, would drive her friend nuts.

  “You defied a direct order and put your asset at risk when you brought him close to this house. You just inherited cleanup duty,” Cappy snapped, jerking his thumb toward the woods. “Dispose of Mars, then find his car. Strip it and leave it for the cops. Bring back anything useful. Capisce?”

  Grady looked away, breaking the staring contest with Talon. She felt the weight of his gaze as it settled on her. From this distance, with no lights, and in the rain, she couldn’t see much, but goose bumps tingled on her arms.

  “Romeo,” Cappy said, though she didn’t really pay much attention. What was going on in Grady’s head? She could tell no smile lifted his face, just a heavy expression. “You also earned cleanup duty for being complicit in Talon’s defiance.”

  “Hey, what about Magician?” Romeo complained.

  “Nice,” Magician muttered.

  “When I suffer, you suffer. Partnership, baby,” Romeo retorted with what sounded like a smacking air-kiss at the end.

  “Magician’s going to be busy helping me,” Cappy answered, now heading toward the house with Grady a step behind.

  Talon lingered, staring after them. He eventually looked her way, and by the set of his shoulders and still clenched fists she imagined his anger increasing. The lonely picture of him standing in the dark yard watching everyone walk away made her heart pang. Before she could delve too deep into it, he pivoted and marched back into the woods.

  Cappy and Grady pounded up the few stairs, then their footsteps vibrated the oversize wooden deck as they neared. For a moment she wavered on her vow to let Grady go. With every step he took, her heart beat faster and her breath became shallower. She co
uldn’t read anything from his closed expression and tight shoulders, but the anvil pressing on her lifted. The oppressive anger that had been surrounding him was gone. Oh God, could he have actually forgiven her, or at the very least stopped actively condemning her?

  “Don’t worry about the mud,” Grady said, his voice flat as he opened one of the French doors—three of the panes had been shot out. “There’s too much glass and shit in here to go without protection.”

  She refused to let her eyes drift to the item in Cappy’s fist. Grady stepped inside with Cappy following and taking the shotgun with him. Suddenly light-headed, she put a hand against the stone beside her. The aching in her shoulder increased, and she grimaced at the way it shot down her arm. She closed the door behind her more out of habit than for the protection it now couldn’t provide against the weather.

  Water drained off them and pooled on the hardwood floor.

  “We’re here,” Romeo said through the comms. “Can someone open the garage?”

  Cappy moved to the corner and rested the gun against the freestanding kitchen counter while Grady strode through the obstacle course of his destroyed home and yanked open the door leading to the garage from the kitchen. The distinctive sound of the garage door opening, the deep rumble of the F150’s powerful engine echoing, then the door closing filled the silence.

  Romeo’s gorgeous face filled the space, and Sandra breathed out. Silly since she knew it was her teammate, but she couldn’t help the wobbly nerves.

  “You’re supposed to be outside with your cohort,” Cappy ordered, pointing a finger at Romeo.

  “I’m going,” Romeo replied. “Just making sure the coast was clear before we allowed our ace in the hole to get out of the car.”

  “Understood. But we got it from here.” Cappy opened the French door. “Make sure you zip that coat up; it’s wet out there.”

  Romeo placed a medium-size box onto the end of the counter and winked at her as he sauntered past and disappeared into the night.

  Grady paused near the island and finger-combed his hair, a few curls breaking free to frame his ears. He unzipped his coat and hung it on the back of one of the few remaining dining room chairs not destroyed by Mars. She sucked air through her teeth. Good Lord. He was covered in cuts, shards, and trickling blood.