by Kris Norris
Shit.
He stumbled to his feet, tripping against Devlyn when she surged up with him—caught his weight. “Brilliant timing, Rigs, and we can discuss how you knew where to place all your countermeasures, later, but we need to move before Slader sends in his drone, again.”
“That one was manually activated. Couldn’t chance one of us would step on it if things went sideways and we ended up in a war zone. And we don’t have to worry about the drone.”
“Rigs is right, mate. Drone’s been dispatched.”
Crow turned, gun at the ready, already shoving Dev behind him, when Gibson appeared out of the shadows. Empty space one second, then the man moving toward them, the next. Flanked by Dungeon and Olivia. Both armed. Securing any of the men who’d been hit but were obviously still breathing.
Gib angled over to them, standing guard as he motioned to Dungeon. The other man darted off—disappeared into the blowing dust and darkness, only to reappear a moment later.
He shook his head. “No body, though, there’s a fair amount of blood where Slader was standing. Bastard couldn’t have gotten far.”
Gib grinned. “I told you Vale nailed him. Only clipped his upper shoulder, but not bad for a kid who was likely seeing double with enough internal issues to immobilize a rhino.” He looked over at Olivia. “Looks like you share that trait with him, Blake.”
Blake?
Crow held up his hand, gaining their attention. “Can you back up a bit? Where the hell did you guys come from? I thought Dungeon and Olivia got hit in that last drone attack.” He looked pointedly at Olivia. “And how are you still standing, let along backing anyone up? You looked a breath away from bleeding out back there. And who gave you a gun?”
Another chuckle out of Gibson. “Americans. Always asking questions when they should be saying thanks. Accepting their good fortune.”
“I do appreciate the save. Again. Seems to be a bad habit I’m forming.”
“Relying on your mates isn’t a bad habit, Crow. Besides, you and Devlyn took the brunt of Slader’s attacks. He was real keen on eliminating you two.”
“Actually, it’s Olivia he wanted. Said something about her knowing too much to go free. Or, is your name Blake?”
“Both. Her full name’s Olivia Gwendolyn Blake. And she’s not working for Slader, are you, love?”
She huffed, leaning against Dungeon when her strength seemed to wane. “Already told them that, Miller, but they didn’t believe me. Stubborn blokes, the lot of them.”
“Wait.” Crow looked back and forth between the two of them. “Do you two know each other?”
Gib shrugged. “Nope.”
Olivia shook her head. “Never seen this wanker before in my life.”
Crow frowned. “You sounded American before, but, you’re obviously British—”
“Let’s focus on getting all of you to Coen, yeah?” Gib shook his head. “He’s gonna be pissed with the number of injuries he’ll have to treat. Though, thankfully Ice can cover anything short of imminent death.”
“What about Slader? A patch of blood isn’t his ass in handcuffs.”
“Nowhere left for him to go. Not sure who called in reinforcements, but that lass of Cannon’s, Jericho? She showed up, a bunch of U.S. Marshals in tow. Along with Devlyn’s boss.” He snorted. “Another bloke who doesn’t follow his doctor’s orders. Seems he authorized the Marshal service to lend a hand after it became apparent there were more than a few interagency moles. They were moving in when that first shell hit. We’ve been making our way over here since then. Took a bit longer than expected.”
“Casualties?”
“Six took a round in the arm yanking Cannon out of the way, but it isn’t serious. And Colt caught a few in the vest keeping Coen’s ass intact. I owe Colt for that. Looks like he might have broken a couple of ribs. Separated his shoulder. He’s bruised and cussing, but he’ll live. Other than that, you four are the worst.”
“What about Phoenix?”
Gibson snorted. “Couldn’t tell ya. He’s still in the wind.”
“He was barely conscious. No way he’s still walking.”
“I’ll take Blade and do a search of the debris, just in case. Check the perimeter, too.” Rigs gave the pooch another scratch. “If Phoenix is anywhere in the vicinity, we’ll find him.”
“See? Rigs has it covered.” Gib motioned with his fingers. “Don’t make me ask twice, Crow. I can be quite the bastard when called upon.”
“Ain’t that the truth.”
Crow snapped his head around, focusing on Olivia, unsure if he’d heard her correctly. But she stumbled off with Dungeon before he could ask. He looked back at Gibson, but the man merely chuckled, waving them on.
Crow exhaled a rough breath, cinched his arm around Devlyn, then followed after Dungeon. While he didn’t doubt his teammates had secured the area, he wasn’t willing to risk Devlyn’s life on it. Stray too far when he suspected his reflexes weren’t quite up to par. Not with his head pounding. The wounds on his thigh burning.
So, holding her close, leaning on her, was smart. Gave him a chance to shield her, if necessary. And, if it meant he could keep walking, that was bonus. Until fingers snapped in front of his face.
He blinked, finally focusing on Gibson’s face. “What?”
Gib shook his head. “Looks like you took more damage than I thought. Dungeon? Do me a favor, mate, and take Livy to Coen, then send Ice back. Comms are still down. We’ll wait here.”
“I don’t need a babysitter, and I don’t need to wait here.”
“Right, which is why you were standing still with your eyes closed. Didn’t answer me when I called you’re name.” Gib leaned in close. “Twice.”
Gib nodded at Dungeon, grinning when the man took off—lifting Olivia into his arms when she tripped a step—then focused on Crow. “Sit, Crow, before you fall down and take Devlyn with you.”
Crow glared at the man, but let Dev help ease him onto a chunk of wall. “I thought you said you didn’t know Olivia?”
“That sounds about right.”
“You just called her Livy.”
“Did I?”
Crow grunted. “Shit. She’s not just British, she’s MI6.”
Gibson took a few steps, scanning the area before looking over his shoulder. “Is she?”
“It all makes sense, now. She’s the one who gave Slader the safehouse locations for that thumb drive. Knew which ones were obsolete enough she wouldn’t endanger other operatives. She’s not a double agent, she’s a damn spy. Probably sent in because of Bains’ list. I’m sure London has gotten wind of it, even if not through you. Or, maybe Bains contacted someone in MI6, personally, before leaving Afghanistan. Was trying to minimize the fallout for our allies.
“Which explains why she moves the same way you do. Was able to muscle through despite all those injuries.” Crow sighed. “You could have just told us. I think we’ve proven we can be trusted.”
“Can’t tell you what I didn’t know. None of you blokes ever showed me a photo of this Anna Carmichael we were after.” He smiled. “Hypothetically speaking, of course.”
“Well, whatever intel she has on Slader must be pretty damning. You should go. Make sure she stays safe. We’ll be fine until Ice gets here. Bastard runs like the damn wind, so… It won’t be long.”
“And leave you two vulnerable?”
Dev huffed. “Gee, thanks, Gib, for your vote of confidence. Glad you value my ability to have Ryker’s back.”
“I have complete faith in your skills, love. Your ability not to pass out, however...” He chuckled at her frown. “You look as bad as Crow. So—”
He turned. Knife in one hand, gun the other. Aimed into the shadows behind them as he moved to cover them. Body primed but not striking.
Crow pushed to his feet, nearly took Devlyn back down to the ground with him when his damn vision blurred and he tripped against her, before shuffling in behind Gibson. Whether it was the tiny black dots starting to
eat away his vision, or the throbbing in his head that made focusing a Herculean effort, he wasn’t sure. But, be damned if he saw any kind of threat. Just shadows blending in with the encroaching darkness. A tall sliver of gray metallic wall reflecting the last of the sunset.
Gibson eased back, lightly knocking him and Devlyn farther behind him. “Stay behind me.”
Crow squinted. “I don’t…”
There. A hint of movement. Just the flash of flesh in the darkness. Didn’t last more than a heartbeat, but he’d seen it.
Crow shouldered up to Gibson, nodding at Devlyn to get behind him. “Now who’s running out of places to hide…Slader.”
A chuckle, then Slader stepped out. One hand held shoulder height. A small unit grasped in his palm. “Always the comedian, Ward.” He shifted his gaze to Gibson. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but I’ll be sure to correct that.”
Not a blink from Gib. “That’s assuming you’re still alive a minute from now, chum.”
Another chuckle. “I’ve always wondered if the Brits actually had a version of the double O like in the movies. MI6 has never confirmed it, but I think I might finally have my answer. And, before you pull that trigger or toss that blade, you might want to ask yourself if you’re ready to die. This…” Slader motioned to his hand. “Kill switch linked to my second drone. It’s not as impressive as the predator I had, but it’ll do, in a pinch. I stop breathing, or my thumb hits this button, and this entire area will light up like a war zone a second later.”
He locked gazes with Crow. “You know I don’t bluff, Ward.”
“No, you don’t. But, neither do I. And I already told you I’d be gunning for you if you didn’t kill me, outright.”
“Soon. In the meantime, you’re all going to stand very still while I leave. The slightest twitch, and I’ll just kill us all.”
“Then, get at it because we’re not waiting here for you to pull that trigger once you’re clear.”
“Fucker can’t.” Gibson nodded toward Slader’s hand. “That switch he’s carrying. It connects with a small drone via GPS, and will only target the area directly around where the signal is produced. If he wants to manually activate it, he’ll have to be very close to us in order to deliver a kill strike.”
“How close?”
“The kind that would kill him, too.”
Slader grinned as he slowly started walking backwards. “Not bad. What was your name, again?”
Gib kept his weapons trained on the man. “This isn’t over.”
“So, you all keep saying. And nothing’s ever over until someone wins. Until next time, Ward.”
“You never should have touched Anna.”
Crow inhaled when Phoenix’s voice sounded from behind Slader a moment before a shot echoed through the air, quickly followed by a second. Gibson yelled at the man to stop before he was taking Crow and Devlyn to the ground—covering them the same way Crow had shielded Devlyn and Olivia, earlier.
Crow tried to shove the other man off, but Gibson wouldn’t budge, cinching his arms tight until Crow thought he’d pass out from lack of oxygen, let alone blood loss. More of those black dots swarmed his vision by the time Gibson eased up—rolled off them. There was a sense of relief—of both him and Devlyn drawing a deep breath—then, Gib was hauling them up. Ensuring they were steady before darting off.
It took Crow a few moments to process the situation. Gain his bearings then turn—take in the scene. Slader was on the ground, blood pooled beneath his hand and thigh. More where he’d been hit in the shoulder, though, it looked dried. Just a few fresh dots on his shirt.
Phoenix sat on a pile of bricks not far off. Gun lax in one hand, the other resting on his leg. Crow couldn’t tell if the man was staring at the ground or if he’d somehow passed out while sitting there, until he slowly raised his gaze. Met Crow’s.
Crow glanced at Devlyn, but she was already steering him toward Phoenix, shouldering most of his weight despite her own injuries. Another reason to love her.
She stopped once they’d reached Phoenix, shifting to allow him to balance on her while crouching to Vale’s level.
Crow tilted his head to the side, wishing he could focus enough to evaluate the kid’s condition. Judge if he was as bad as Crow thought he was. “Phoenix?”
Vale clenched his jaw, looking back at the ground. “Kill switches don’t work if the asshole wearing them stays alive but can’t activate the button.” He glanced over at Slader. “I win.”
Crow nodded, aware now wasn’t the time to talk about Slader or what Vale had done. Other than save their lives while eliminating the threat. “Come on. Let’s get you to Brady. You look like shit.”
He simply shrugged, breaking eye contact.
“Jesus Christ. What the hell happened?”
Ice, racing in and dropping to his knees beside Vale. He did a quick once-over, then went to Slader, pulling a bunch of supplies out of his bag. How the guy managed to run as if it weighed nothing, Crow didn’t know. Other than he was nuts.
Ice said something to Gibson, looking back at Crow when Gib took off. “Gib’s gonna grab the rest of the team. Get Coen to drive his clinic over this way, since none of you look as if you can walk fifty feet before you pass out. Which reminds me, Devlyn? Honey, can you sit Crow’s ass down before he gives himself a concussion? Not that you’re far off, either, but I’ve found women tend to be far more stubborn than men. Even hardcore alpha types like Crow.”
Devlyn smiled, gently but firmly helping Crow to the ground. He thought about arguing, but the look she gave him—all big soft eyes with a hint of a smile. It was all he could do just to focus on staying upright and not losing himself in the sheer beauty of her.
Ice cleared his throat. “Don’t even think about moving, Vale. I’m just stabilizing Slader, then, I’ll deal with you. And, if you make me chase you down, I won’t be my usual sweet self.”
Vale snorted. “You’ve never been sweet, Ice.”
“Then, I suggest you don’t piss me off and see an even uglier side of me.”
Another shrug. “Got nowhere to go.” He glanced at Ice. “Is Anna okay?”
“I believe her name’s Olivia. And she’s gonna be sidelined for a while, but she’ll make it. The girl’s all grit.”
“Olivia? Right. Of course, it’s not Anna.”
“Hey.” Crow nudged Phoenix’s boot. “It’s not official, but she’s not who we thought she was. In fact, I think she’s—”
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to know.”
“Vale.” Crow huffed when the kid ignored him. “Ethan. You should get her side of the story. Give her a chance to explain.”
Vale stared at him until Crow wondered if he’d passed out for real, this time. Then, he blinked—narrowed his eyes. “I’m sorry I blamed you earlier.”
“Don’t sweat it. I…”
Vale tumbled forward, crumpling onto the gravel.
“Ice!”
The man was there before Crow could move. Dip forward to check if Vale was still breathing. Ice grunted, took Vale’s vitals as he began dealing with some of his open wounds, while constantly looking over his shoulder—watching Slader.
“Is Vale okay?”
“The kid’s hands down the worst patient I’ve ever treated. Doesn’t listen to orders. Thinks he’s bulletproof. He’s got multiple lacerations, internal damage. A grade three concussion. And that was all before he decided to go all John Wick out there. The man’s lucky to be breathing.”
“So, par for the course.”
Ice snorted. “With your team? Yeah. He’ll need Brady, but having seen that man work, I have no doubt he’ll pull another miracle out of his ass. Save Vale, again. Cannon’s gonna have to put the guy on the payroll.”
Ice glanced at Crow. “Since Brady’s going to have to save you and Devlyn, too, because, damn… You’re both gonna need more than I can offer.”
“You’ve never let me down before, Ice. I’ll play those odds.” Crow gather
ed Devlyn closer. “Besides, I’m fine, brother. Got everything I need, right here.”
Devlyn laughed. “Right, until you pass out, and I have to help Ice drag your ass to the clinic.”
“Thinking you’ll be right behind me, sweetheart. That arm…” He pushed at the guilt gnawing at his gut. “You know if Rigs and Blade hadn’t shown up—”
“We’d both be dead. So, shut up, and hold me before I decide to stab you in the heart, after all.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good, because I plan on irritating the hell out of you for the next fifty years. Get used to it.”
Warmth spread through his chest as her words sank in. The next fifty years. Hell, yeah, he could get behind that.
He gave her a squeeze, careful to keep it light. Not exacerbate any of her existing injuries as the rest of his team appeared in the distance. “I was planning on sixty, but…we can start with fifty if that’s all you’ve got in you.”
She swatted at his chest. “Jackass. Fine, sixty. But if we’re gonna be sparring with each other that long, you might want to get more Kevlar.”
“I’ll buy us each a full wardrobe.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head as Cannon stopped in front of them, shaking his head. “Love you, brat.”
“Love you more, you big jerk.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Three weeks later...
“Adams! Ward! My office.”
Devlyn groaned inwardly as Smithers’ voice boomed down the hall. How did the man even know they were there? They’d just stepped off the elevator—had only ventured inside to submit her report before taking another week or two off to fully recover—yet, Smithers was already on the warpath.
She glanced over at Ryker, smiling at how handsome he looked in his jeans and sweater. A week of scruff on his chin. His hair tousled from the kiss she’d planted on him before they’d gotten out of his new truck.