by Kris Norris
“Rigs and Blade.”
“We’ve got a few hours before the meeting.” Devlyn raised a brow, glancing around the room.
Cannon scoffed. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?”
“It’s the last thing Slader will suspect. And, maybe the only chance we have. It’s time to take the fight to him. Last man standing wins.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The plan wasn’t just crazy. It was suicidal. And, while Crow agreed it might be their only chance at ending this, he wasn’t sure they’d all still be breathing once the dust and debris and bullets settled. In fact, the more Crow worked through it in his head, the less likely that seemed.
The only real advantage they had was the added firepower. Namely Dungeon. Gibson had insisted on being the other guy to help carry Vale out to the meeting—seemed itching to get some payback—but Cannon had refused. He’d let on that it was because Gib was still healing, but Crow knew it was to keep Gibson’s identity hidden. Still being active with MI6 meant maintaining a low profile. And revealing himself to a rogue CIA agent wasn’t going to do Gibson any favors. Could actually get him killed on any future missions regardless of whether this meeting went their way or not. There could be images from the drone. Something they hadn’t thought of that would out Gib during a future mission, and none of them were willing to take that chance.
Cannon hadn’t said those words, not when Dungeon wasn’t privy to Gibson’s current vocation. Gibson hadn’t mentioned his status, so none of them had, either. But Gib had gotten the message. And the man had been sulking ever since.
Devlyn nudged Crow’s arm. Smiled when he looked over at her. “We don’t have to do this.”
Crow snorted. “A bit late to change our minds, now, sweetheart.”
“Not if you think it’s a bad plan.”
“It’s not a bad plan. I’d just like better odds.”
“Your team’s impressive, and the best odds we’ll ever have.”
“Our team, and I’m not questioning Cannon or anyone else’s skill.”
“You’re worried Slader will level the place.”
It hadn’t been a question, and Crow merely shrugged. “A distinct possibility. That, or he’s already got a bunch of countermeasures in place. Will strike before we even get a chance to launch our attack.”
“Rigs was out here within an hour of Slader’s call. Creating his own countermeasures. I doubt he missed Ian Slader skulking around setting traps.”
“Slader had forty-eight hours to prepare before he even called us. No way he didn’t put that time to good use.”
“Rigs says he checked for everything. Cameras. Trip wires. Thermal imaging. I trust him.”
“So, do I.” He met her gaze. “Hard to see a scope from two miles away, though. Or a drone overhead.” He sighed. “Guess we’ll find out. And, if anyone can operate in the shadows and not be seen, it’s Rigs. The man’s a damn ghost.”
“Hate to break it to you, Ryker, but you’re all like that. Creepy as hell, if I’m being honest.”
“You’re not much better, Dev.” He touched the comm at his neck. “Five minutes ’til showtime. Everyone ready?”
Cannon and Six checked in. They were standing at the entrance. Waiting. Kam and Ellis called in next. Confirmed they were parallel to Crow’s vehicle. Armed. Ready to lay down cover fire. Rigs signaled he was in position. Didn’t specify a location. Just a, “Go,” across the airwaves, then nothing. Ice and Midnight were outside the drop zone, ready to follow Slader if need be. Or ride in and join in the fight. A Hail Mary if things got really desperate and Slader sent in his drone. Or had a small army show up.
Colt and Dungeon sounded off last. They were in Brady’s mobile clinic behind an abandoned warehouse that looked as if it would collapse if anyone breathed on it. Stationed so Slader wouldn’t outright see them, but close enough they could carry Phoenix to the site once Slader arrived—pray the short trip didn’t worsen Vale’s condition.
To say Brady hadn’t been happy about their plan was an understatement. But…even he’d acknowledged the gravity of the situation. Knew Slader would kill Anna if Vale wasn’t there. And once Phoenix had heard about the trade…
They all knew the man would have dragged his broken body down the street if it had come to that. Better to make it as safe as possible. Try to keep Phoenix contained.
Crow wasn’t convinced that was possible, not after explaining the circumstances—that Anna might have been involved with Slader. Had staged the crash with the man’s help. That there were a million unanswered questions, but they all pointed to Anna Carmichael being a double agent.
Crow wasn’t sure how much Phoenix had actually processed—how much had made it past the concussion and pain meds. The obvious memory issues. Crow only hoped Vale stayed conscious long enough to get some of those answers. That things didn’t go sideways. Leave them all wondering.
Who was he kidding? When things went sideways. Because they always did. Without any kind of overwatch—a drone or someone of Phoenix’s caliber stationed up high, calling out every move and ready to take out anyone who twitched the wrong way—they were vulnerable. And Slader knew it. Would take advantage of it.
As long as Devlyn made it out unscathed, Crow could live with the fallout. Was prepared to face the ugly truth that they might lose people. Family. That the chances of both him and Devlyn living were slim. That in order to save her, he’d end up hurting her. Again.
But better her angry with him for dying than her dead.
Cannon. On the radio. Telling them there were two trucks inbound. Which meant possibly nine men. Plus a drone. A chance of snipers on some distant rooftops. Though, they were far enough away, it would take someone nearly as skilled as Vale to make a kill shot. And Crow liked those odds because he knew the kid was one of a kind.
Still, he made a mental note to shield as many angles on Devlyn as possible. Without looking as if he was shielding her. Because she’d counter his every move if she realized his motives.
Devlyn frowned. Gave him the once-over, and, damn, Crow knew he was busted. That his heart was out there on his sleeve. Raw and exposed. That she read his every thought the moment it registered inside his head. Like Six, and his freaky visions.
The growl of engines stopped her from asking any questions. Had them both focusing on the road. On the large black Chevys bumping along the gravel. The crunch of rocks as the headlights brightened the dimming light.
Crow grabbed her hand when she turned to leave. “Please don’t die.”
Another slow sweep of his body. “Pretty sure you’ve already given instructions for everyone to cover me at all cost, so… You should be the one focusing on not dying. I know that look—what’s rattling around inside your head. And I promise, if you sacrifice yourself for me, I’ll kill you.”
He chuckled. Couldn’t help it because she was too damn beautiful. And strong, and he really hoped they had more time left together than the next five minutes.
Assuming Slader didn’t just drop a shell on them the second they stepped out. Cut that five minutes down to five seconds.
Devlyn met him at the front of the truck. Not a hint of fear, or doubt. Just her head held high. Hand resting beside her hip, within reach of her weapon but not touching it. And he knew she had complete faith in him—in his buddies.
Damn straight. Slader had no idea what he was truly up against. That this was the first time his entire squad had been together outside of the military even if Phoenix was barely conscious. Though, Dungeon more than made up for it. And with their new additions...
They were unstoppable.
Crow released a slow breath as everything clicked into place. His pulse evened out. Any lingering thoughts of failure, or not coming out of this alive along with the rest of his team, fading away.
The vehicles rolled to a halt, a cloud of dust momentarily blocking them out before it settled as the doors opened. Five men filed out of the first vehicle, followed by three in t
he second. All heavily armed. Body armor and comm units. Making it look as if Slader was the president being accompanied by a squadron of secret service. None of them spoke, just took up strategic positions in order to counter Crow’s team.
Crow shook his head, waiting until the rear door of the second car finally opened, and Slader stepped out. Cocky. Dressed in black with the same weapons strapped to him as his men. He scanned the area then narrowed in on Crow and Devlyn.
That smile. All white teeth beneath thin lips that curled into a feral grin. God, it made Crow want to drop the man where he stood. Punch that smirk right off his face. Instead, Crow straightened, glancing at Dev before slowly walking forward. He counted off his steps, stopping when he was halfway between his truck and Slader’s Suburban. Slader paused, but if the man was waiting for Crow to close the distance, he’d be standing there all night. This wasn’t a friendly meeting, and there wasn’t a chance in hell Crow would break protocol. Halfway. Never more. Less would have been better, but Slader wasn’t that naive. Had read the same playbook.
A knowing smile, then Slader was walking, again. Stopping just out of reach. “I hadn’t realized you Delta boys did everything by-the-book. I thought you were all about improvising? Making your own rules?”
“Not giving you an extra inch is my rule. Where’s Carmichael?”
Slader tsked. “You really need to learn how to be civil, Ward. And I’ll bring her out as soon as I see Vale.”
“If Vale was a threat, you’d already be dead.” Crow nodded toward Slader’s SUV. “I’m actually surprised you got out before Vale was unconscious at your door.”
“Nice try, but there’s no way any of you will risk taking a shot before the trade’s underway. Too many variables that could bite you in the ass. So, either show me Vale, or I’ll toss Carmichael’s corpse out of the Suburban as I drive away.”
Crow scoffed. “You? Drive away without your intel? I don’t think so.”
Slader inched forward. “I can always find another hacker. Might take a while and be a giant pain in my ass, but it’s not impossible. Pretty damn sure you can’t resurrect the dead.”
Crow glanced at the SUV then back at Slader before tapping the comm at his neck. “Colt. Bring Vale out.” He glared at Slader. “Vale can’t move on his own, so tell your asshole minions not to get trigger happy because a couple of my buddies are tagging along. Or would you prefer to venture over to Colt’s truck, instead?”
“I can’t make any promises, Ward. You know how twitchy Spec Op guys are.”
“If they’re as good as you seem to think they are, they wouldn’t be twitchy.”
Crow looked over his shoulder as three men stepped out from behind the dilapidated building. The setting sun casting their silhouettes in harsh relief. Just black shadows moving through the waning light. It wasn’t until they were halfway across the open stretch of gravel that he realized Dungeon wasn’t one of the men.
Brady.
Shit.
And the man was armed. Holster beneath his jacket on his left side. Peeking in and out of view as Phoenix shifted within Brady and Colt’s grip. Vale’s feet occasionally dragging on the dusty ground before he was able to lift them. Keep stumbling forward.
Crow assumed Brady knew how to shoot. He was ex-military. Had been on missions with Spec Op squads, which Crow hoped translated into him being more than capable of defending himself. Still… Crow got the sense that weapons weren’t Brady’s forte. That it went against the part of him that saved lives. And, after watching the man bring his friends back from the brink, he’d be surprised if Brady had any killer instinct left.
Maybe if his partner, Finley, was at risk. Or Gibson. Extreme situations involving the people he loved.
Christ, Crow hoped this didn’t become one of those. Though, their entire plan was essentially one extreme measure. A crap shoot edged slightly in their favor. Except, Dungeon had broken ranks. Was most likely adapting a new scenario with Gibson, because there was no way in hell the Brit wasn’t getting involved. Especially with Brady out here and not actively watching him.
A quick glance at Devlyn, but her expression hadn’t changed. Just a mild roll of her right shoulder—as if relaxing her shooting arm in case she needed to draw sooner than expected. But nothing Slader would infer as her being surprised. That their plan was taking a tangent.
Slader frowned when the trio stopped several feet back, Vale swaying sharply against Brady before lolling over toward Colt. “Who the fuck are you?”
Brady’s lips twitched. The closest Crow had ever seen the man come to snarling. “Medic.”
Slader glared at Crow. “I told you no agents, or fucking marshals.”
Brady scoffed before Crow could answer. “Do I look like a damn lawman to you? Vale’s got a few dozen stitches. Had internal bleeding. A head injury. Broke three ribs and tore a bunch of ligaments. He’s lucky he’s still breathing, yet, we have to drag his ass out here so you can gawk. Which is why there’s a medic along.”
Brady shuffled his grip on Vale. “You good? Or do you want him to puke all over your boots before you’ll be happy?”
“Christ, you all need to take those sticks out of your asses.” Slader held out one hand. “The decrypted drive.”
Crow dug into his pocket, groaning when most of Slader’s men cocked their guns. He gave them a harsh stare before removing his hand—holding up the drive.
Slader motioned with his fingers. “Patience isn’t my strong suit, Ward.”
Crow snapped it back slightly. “Anna Carmichael.”
“You know that’s not her real name, right?”
“Don’t care. Just get her walking this way or you can kiss your intel goodbye. And, contrary to what you said, I highly doubt you could find someone else to hack it. You wouldn’t have staged this entire ordeal if you could. Which means, Smyth will cap your ass.”
“You know, for someone who’s gonna benefit from me getting this intel as much as I am, you don’t sound very grateful.”
“That’s because you’re lying.”
“Am I? I bet Vale would disagree.”
“Sure, there’s some asshole named Smyth out to kill us. But there’s no way that’s all you want. There’s a lot more in those files than just how to find Smyth. Who he really is.” Crow took a single step forward. “I wouldn’t plan on it all being there when you go hunting.”
Slader merely smiled. “I’ll take my chances. The drive.”
“Carmichael, first.”
Slader snorted but waved his hand. One of the men grunted then turned, opening the opposite rear door on the second SUV. There was a slight rustling noise, then a pair of shoes hitting the dirt. The door creaking as the woman leaned against it before finally straightening.
Crow sighed. “Remove the damn bag.”
A chuckle then another hand signal, and the guy lifted the burlap off her head—tossed it back inside the vehicle.
Fuck.
Bruises. Up and down her face. One eye swollen shut. Dried blood caked her lips, trailing along the side of her jaw. And there was no mistaking the jerkiness in her movements. How she barely managed to shuffle her feet, half tripping every other step.
A hushed growl from behind him had Crow shifting his gaze to Brady’s group. Specifically to Vale. The man’s eyes were barely open, but where he’d been limp against Colt just moments earlier, he was balancing on his own, now. In fact, Crow swore the man’s muscles were primed. Ready to strike. A quick scan assured Crow that Phoenix wasn’t armed, but it didn’t stop the shiver of awareness down Crow’s spine. The voice in his head from warning him things were about to go sideways.
Crow spared Brady a passing look, but he was focused on Anna. Brow heavily furrowed. Red flushing his cheeks as his nostrils flared with every rough exhalation. The man was pissed.
Crow inched closer to Slader. “I warned you about hurting her.”
Slader smiled smugly. “Actually, you told me to make sure she stayed breathing. As you
can see, I upheld my end of the bargain. The disk.”
Crow waited until Anna had a decent head start toward them then handed Slader the drive. He maintained his hold until Slader lifted his gaze. Met Crow’s. “This isn’t over. We will put it all together, and we’ll be the ones hunting.”
“Then, I’ll see you around, Ward.” He nodded at Devlyn. “Agent Adams.”
The bastard started backing up, gaze glued to Crow’s. And Crow knew the situation was about to turn ugly. That Slader had no intentions of letting any of them walk away, alive.
Crow shifted his weight, already working through how he’d lunge at Anna—keep her out of Slader’s grip if he reached for her—while covering Devlyn. Preventing any of Slader’s goons from getting off a shot that could hit her. He had one foot forward, the grip of his gun in his hand, while stretching the other toward Anna. Planning on cushioning her fall as he yanked her sideways, when Phoenix moved.
Not slow and unsteady like he’d been earlier. With Brady and Colt shouldering most of his weight. This was smooth. Calculated. One fluid motion of drawing Brady’s gun out of the holster as he stepped in front of the other two men. So damn fast Crow only saw the entire sequence as snapshots of movement. A flash of Vale’s hand at Brady’s chest, then the barrel glinting off the last of the sunlight. The lethal gleam in Phoenix’s eyes.
There was a moment of pause, of Slader inhaling, everyone’s focus snapping toward Vale, before the world exploded, and the whole damn place erupted into chaos.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Bullets whizzed through the air, so close Devlyn felt their wake. Like a rough exhale as Slader’s crew returned fire. Seemed hell bent on eliminating all of them. That got her moving. Laying down cover fire as she fell in beside Ryker—kept his ass in one piece when he lunged for Anna then carried her across the open space before ducking behind their truck.
Dev followed, popping up to return fire whenever a round headed their way. Impacted the truck, or ricocheted off the metal.