Forged Risk (Aegis Group Task Force Book 2)

by Sidney Bristol

  Felecia grasped Evan’s arm. Was that a tremble?

  “We can’t just stand here,” she whispered.

  He was of a mind to agree, but where could they go?

  The way she’d come was blocked. The other way out was full of enemies. The way they’d come was more than likely chaos and full of paper pushers and desk workers. They couldn’t flee that way without risking more lives. Besides, they had no idea where the other Horsemen were or how many people they had with them.

  “Hall’s blocked,” Tucker said.

  “Sounds like there’s more fighting that way.” Agent Joon closed and secured the door.

  “Felecia?” Evan glanced at her. “I want you to get in one of the cells.”

  “No.”

  “I know you don’t want to be locked up—”

  “I’m not leaving you out here. I’m not doing it. Don’t ask me to.” Her eyes were wide, fierce, determined. “I’ve killed people today.”

  “We need to get eyes on them,” Logan said as he edged toward the door.

  “TL, don’t,” Tucker hissed.

  Logan turned. Evan didn’t need the light to know that anger flashed in those eyes.

  A tiny sound, one so soft it might have been drowned out had Evan not heard it before. His gut knotted up before he could make his mouth work.

  Someone lobbed something through the open door.

  He was already turning, grabbing for Felecia, but she’d taken a few steps from him.

  The grenade bounced and rolled almost straight for her.

  In his mind the seconds were ticking away.

  Felecia hauled back and kicked. The grenade sailed up and toward the door. But Evan was already moving. He threw himself at Felecia, taking the both of them to the ground. Before they even hit the tile, the grenade detonated. The concussion blast hit and he rolled, taking Felecia with him, doing his best to cover her head with his arms, shield her with his body.

  If he did nothing else, he intended to save her life.

  His ears rang painfully as the world came back into focus. He knew parts of his body hurt, but urgency drove him to his knees before he was ready. Light poured down through a hole in the roof that hadn’t been there before.

  Felecia blinked up at him, her pupils blown wide. Some blood trickled out of her mouth and there were scrapes on her bare arms and legs, but she was alive.

  For how long?

  He whirled, groping for his rifle still attached to the strap on his shoulder, and brought the weapon up.

  The others were clambering to their feet, alive because of Felecia’s field goal skills.

  This wasn’t a win for them or the other side.

  That was his last thought before a figure all in black rounded the bit of wall still left standing.

  Evan fired, no hesitation, and strode forward on shaky feet. Tucker was at his side, moving faster, wielding two handguns.

  Three men fell in quick succession.

  How many of them were there?

  Evan reached blinking at Tucker and yanked one of the flash grenades off his vest. The pin came away in Evan’s teeth then he tossed it. He took one step back and ran into a smaller body. He turned his head and looked at Felecia standing right behind him, gun in hand.

  His wonder at her courage was short lived. The grenade went off, the burst of light and cloud of smoke sending the hall into chaos.

  “Stay here,” he said, then followed Tucker into the hall.

  Bullets fired, ripping through drywall. Evan took aim and returned fire, steeling himself for the ugly part of what they did. Killing.

  Thursday. FBI Holding Facility. Austin, Texas.

  Bodhi didn’t like the sound of how things were going down in there.

  He and the rear guard were just outside the facility, the getaway trucks idling, waiting for the others. But from the sound of things they weren’t going well.

  He licked his lips and glanced at the road.

  If he just took off now, would they stop him? Was there enough chaos, enough confusion for him to slip away?

  “Caleb is dead. I repeat, Caleb is dead,” a jumbled voice said.

  Cold fear wrapped around Bodhi.

  First Kurt, now Caleb?

  This couldn’t be happening.

  It couldn’t come to this.

  There had to be another way.

  “Hold the line,” he bellowed.

  Bodhi wasn’t going to go out on a failure. Whoever had killed Kurt was in that building, and now Caleb was dead. Bodhi was going to kill them all.

  Thursday. FBI Holding Facility. Austin, Texas.

  Felecia stood with her back to the cold wall, gun in hand. Her shoulders were hunched up around her ears. Her whole body trembled.

  Evan and his team had taken up positions around the mostly destroyed wall, using the rubble as cover. Bullets sailed over their heads. She heard a few grunts and unless she was mistaken, that was a puddle of red under Jamie, yet the man kept firing.

  They were stuck. She didn’t know how to get out of here, and even if they did, were there others? Would they run headlong into more people with guns and get caught between them?

  If her father was dead would these people leave them alone?

  That was a new thought.

  She glanced at the door to her left, then the one on her right.

  One held her father. The other her mother.

  Could she kill them?

  Her gut clenched and she knew before the thought was fully formed that she couldn’t.

  That woman was still her mother, no matter how much Felecia wanted to deny it. And though she might hate her father, she couldn’t kill him. She didn’t want him dead.

  But she wanted to live. Her, Evan and the others.

  There had to be a way around this.

  Someone cried out, the agent, the man she didn’t know. He fell back, clutching his shoulder.

  Felecia hunched low and scrambled toward the man. She didn’t know what she could do, but it was better than standing there. She hit her knees and slid the last foot to him.

  The man’s face was creased in pain, his teeth clenched.

  “Are you hit?” she asked over the sound of the gun fight.

  Of course he’d been hit.

  She found the wound and covered it with her hand.

  “Get him out of here,” Tucker yelled without looking at her.

  “Where do we go?” Felecia asked, exasperated.

  The downed man scooted himself away from the rubble barrier with his feet. Felecia hooked an arm under his good shoulder and helped haul him back all while juggling her own gun. Mid-way across the room he turned over and got to his knees.

  “I’m fine,” he said through clenched teeth.

  Felecia pulled back, blood coating her hand.

  He wasn’t fine.

  Nothing here was okay.

  The man got to his feet then crossed to the reinforced wall where he could yell at Logan, who didn’t seem to be answering him.

  They couldn’t abandon this position. Everything they’d fought for was here. She didn’t know why it was important that Evan’s people have her dad, but if anyone was going to have him she hoped they did. At least he’d be treated fairly. She hoped.

  If they didn’t get help, they were all going to die here.

  Her chest tightened at the idea.

  She’d just gotten free. Her and Evan only had one not so boring movie night. They were supposed to have more. It couldn’t end like this.

  There had to be another way out.

  Felecia’s gaze locked on the door she’d come through earlier. The way was mostly blocked, but what if she could get through? What if they could—

  Before she could fully grasp the thought, she realized the shadows were moving.

  No, not moving.

  There were people creeping through the door behind Evan and his people.

  Felecia darted in front of the men decked out in black. She couldn’t let them fire
at Evan. Not with his back turned.

  Her gun was in her hands.

  She fired once, hitting the man in the front.

  “Evan!” she shouted over her shoulder.

  Click.

  Her gun didn’t fire again.

  Click.

  There were no more bullets.

  The man behind the one she’d shot raised his gun.

  Everything slowed.

  She stared at a familiar face. She’d helped sculpt him, give him a new life. And now—

  The blast of muzzle fire this close blinded her. The bullet hit her left shoulder, tearing into soft flesh. Her vision went white hot as pain seared her.

  She heard a second shot, felt something hit her head.

  Everything faded, the sounds of the gunfire, men’s yells, the light—all of it.

  She was dying.

  And she didn’t even know if Evan would be okay.

  Thursday. FBI Holding Facility. Austin, Texas.

  “Evan!”

  The shrill sound of Felecia’s scream made the hair on the back of Evan’s neck stand on end. He whirled and his whole world came to a crashing stop.

  In the dim light he could see her delicate hands squeezing the gun, and nothing happened. He could hear the click of an empty chamber in his mind. At the same time, a man outlined by the door fired once. The bullet hit her and she spun, arms flung out like a puppet.

  Evan shouted, he didn’t know what he said, but he heard himself roar.

  The man fired again and Felecia pitched backward, falling to the tile, but not before the man fired a third time.

  Evan’s vision hazed red.

  After everything Felecia had been through, now this?

  She couldn’t die. He couldn’t let that happen to her. All they had to do was hang on for just a little bit longer.

  He crossed the room in two bounds.

  The man in the doorway had his gun aimed at Evan, but Evan fired first. He kept going, knowing full well the man was wearing body armor. Evan charged the man, forcing him back into the lounge where once upon a time he’d taken Felecia to see her brother.

  He was vaguely aware of two other men waiting in the wings.

  Evan didn’t want to shoot and kill this man, he wanted to make him suffer. Like Felecia had suffered.

  Someone hit Evan from behind. He staggered to the side, still holding onto the shooter.

  He caught sight of the two men now focused on him, completely blind to the threat sneaking up behind them now.

  Agent Joon’s stony face didn’t flinch as he fired once, then again.

  The two men went down never knowing they were dead the moment they turned their backs.

  Evan slammed the man who’d shot Felecia up against the wall and stared at his face.

  A face he knew.

  Because it was one of the Horsemen.

  A SEAL who’d turned his back on oaths and promises.

  He didn’t deserve a quick death. He didn’t deserve any death at all.

  Evan hauled back and slammed his fist into the man’s jaw. The Horsemen’s head jerked back, hitting the wall behind him. Evan felt the man’s knees go weak.

  “Joon, cuff him.” Evan dropped the man on the ground.

  Was it his imagination or was there less shooting?

  He rushed past the CIA agent and stopped short.

  In the distance he thought he heard someone shout, “Police!”

  Felecia lay on the white tile, her dress flared out around her, her braid frozen as if she’d just tossed it over her shoulder. Blood pooled under her left shoulder and her right thigh.

  “Oh, shit. Shit. Shit.” He went to his knees, unsure which wound to see to first.

  That was a lot of blood.

  “I need help over here,” he called out and covered her shoulder wound with his hand.

  Blood oozed past his fingers.

  Not good. Not good at all.

  “Somebody?” He glanced up, desperate, and found his team looking at him. “Fucking do something.”

  25.

  Thursday. FBI Holding Facility. Austin, Texas.

  Obran paced the room. He’d felt and heard the fight going on outside, but no one had cracked open the door. That meant that whoever had stormed the castle for him hadn’t succeeded.

  He wasn’t sure if he should be glad or disappointed.

  If he had to decide whose prisoner he wanted to be, it wasn’t Skilton’s.

  Obran crossed to the door and pounded his fist against it.

  Still no answer.

  Was his wife still here? What about his children?

  Skilton would use any of them given the opportunity.

  Obran turned on his heel and stalked across the small room. He shoved a hand through his hair and prayed for answers soon.

  At least the lights were back on now.

  The digital lock beeped.

  He whirled and listened as a key scraped the deadbolt aside.

  His mouth went dry as he waited to find out his fate.

  The door swung open and the black woman, Zora, stood there with a sack in hand. She took one step inside and placed the sack on the chair.

  “What happened?” Obran demanded.

  “A rescue attempt failed,” Zora replied.

  Obran’s mind whirled. He tallied his future and knew what he had to do.

  “My wife? My children?” he asked.

  “I’m not telling you anything,” Zora replied, her tone bitter.

  “Wait.” He held up his hand as if he could stop her from turning. “No one has come in, so I haven’t had a chance to show anyone this.”

  He crossed to the bed and took out the slip of paper. He kept it close to his chest.

  “I want to know how my family is. Are they safe?” He’d eat the damn paper out of spite if it came to that. He’d learned a few tricks over the last few years with Felecia.

  Zora regarded him for a moment and he knew she was doing her own mental tallying.

  “Your wife is fine. Jacob was mostly scared. He got a few bruises and scrapes.” Zora licked her lips.

  Obran’s insides tightened. “My daughter?”

  “One of your Horsemen shot her. Three times. She’s on the way to the hospital now.”

  Obran’s knees gave out and he sat on the edge of the bed.

  His baby girl.

  His beautiful daughter.

  She was so frustrating and wonderful. He saw so much of himself in her. She couldn’t be dying.

  “This was with my breakfast.” He held out the slip of paper. “Felecia is O negative. If she was…”

  He struggled with the words, his grief and fear warring with rage. All of this was his fault. He’d tried to have it all, but life wasn’t like that. People had to choose.

  “She’ll need blood. Jacob is O negative.”

  “I will make sure the hospital knows that.” Zora took the piece of paper and glanced at it. “I’ll also make sure someone updates you.”

  He nodded.

  “Lunch is simple.” She gestured at the brown paper bag. “Eat it. I’ll be back.”

  Obran leaned forward, his face in his hands, and waited for the door to close. Anger, sorrow and fear were terrible companions.

  Thursday. Hospital. Austin, Texas.

  Evan squeezed Jacob’s hand as the boy’s face scrunched up. The nurse made soothing sounds as they began the blood draw. Evan watched that clear tube with hope in his throat.

  The last few hours were a blur. From crouching over Felecia’s dying body to the police showing up. He hadn’t dared wait for an EMT team or an ambulance. He’d carried her out of there himself, Logan and the others clearing the way.

  He’d thought he was losing her.

  The paramedics had given him hope. The wounds were bad, but they could treat them. He’d gotten her to the ambulance in time.

  And then the worst news had hit.

  There wasn’t enough blood.

  As if the universe had kn
own, as if there was some cosmic plan to keep Felecia alive, four FBI agents had appeared with Karen and Jacob.

  Felecia’s little brother was a match. His donated blood might just be the tipping point that kept her alive.

  “You’re doing a great job, buddy. You’re so brave,” Evan said.

  The nurse moved away, revealing Karen sitting on Jacob’s other side.

  Evan didn’t know what to think about her. What she’d done, leaving her daughter like that, was so much worse than Evan’s family just not inviting him to back yard parties. But right now he wasn’t willing to pick a fight with the woman who held the power over the boy capable of giving Felecia life.

  Jacob opened his eyes, glanced at the tube now completely red and his skin went white.

  “Hey?” Evan ducked, getting the boy’s attention. “Look at me, okay? Don’t think about that. It hurts and feels weird, I know. You’re very brave. Your sister’s going to be proud of you.”

  Jacob’s lips quivered and he almost smiled. “Do you think she’ll like me?”

  “Like you? Buddy, I bet she loves you.”

  He smiled then, his dark eyes hopeful.

  Was this what Felecia looked like as a kid? God, she’d make beautiful babies. Did she want kids? Why was he thinking about that?

  “You’re really good friends with my sister?” Jacob seemed to forget what was happening on his other arm the more they talked.

  Karen said nothing, just watched Jacob and listened. Evan was willing to bet she was memorizing every word he said.

  “Yeah. We’re good friends. I like her very much.” Evan’s heart beat painfully. He wanted to be in the waiting room, to hear about how the surgery was going, but this was where he was doing real good.

  “What’s she like? What do you like about her?”

  “Oh, well...” Evan mentally flailed a moment, trying to draw up things he could tell a kid. “No matter how mean people have been to her, she’s still nice. That comes from being a good person down deep. She’s smart. Did you know she speaks several languages?”

  “I speak two,” Jacob interjected.

  “Yeah? Good for you.” Was it Evan’s imagination, or could he see Felecia in Jacob? “Your sister is resourceful. Do you know what that means?”