“Food for thought,” Simon said finally. “Let’s bring the others in. We need to plan the op, get the captain back, get Rex…and Rory if she is there.”
“If she isn’t, we’ll go track her happy ass down.” Garrett cracked his knuckles. “It’ll be the captain’s priority.”
“And ours.” Weight lifted off of Drake. Change was hard. Change for them had always been impossible and it seemed like forever since they’d all been on the same page. Even if his heart was somewhere else in the house, likely with the two women who possessed the hearts of the men he faced, for the first time since they’d undertaken their mission, the hope Rory introduced to them might have found a real foothold.
The door behind Drake opened, and one by one Amanda, Ilsa, and Joss entered. When Ronan followed them inside, all three men straightened.
“What?” The former hero smirked. “I heard this is where the party planning was.”
“Welcome,” Drake told him, then extended his hand. “We need all the help we can get.”
The man hesitated for a split second then he clasped his offered hand. “I’m not whole yet, but I’m getting there.”
“So are we all,” Joss’s soft words broke the spell and they surrounded the table. Somehow, Drake found himself holding Joss’s hand as she took lead. “Security checkpoints are…”
They had a plan. They had a team.
Now they needed a win.
Chapter 15
Drake settled into place on the roof a block from the facility. It was midday, but most of the city seemed focused on the chaos in midtown. A pang of guilt struck him at their use of the disaster—even though they had no hand in the cause of it, it provided the perfect distraction. It was also why they moved sooner rather than later.
“In position,” he spoke in low, even tones. Before leaving the island, they’d all been outfitted with their earbuds and communication gear. Drake had also double checked Joss’s bulletproof clothing. She didn’t have their metabolism or gifts, so he wanted her as safe as possible. It would still take him the ninety seconds to make the run from the roof, jump, hit the ground then charge the main gates.
“Check,” Garrett replied. “Dump truck is locked and loaded.” Their poisoner would follow him inside after he cleared the courtyard.
“Ready,” Amanda’s clear tone still held a treble note of sadness. She wanted to be at the midtown disaster, assisting with the cleanup and looking for Rory. At the same time, she wanted to help them. Her job was to come in and draw ground fire once Drake was inside. Drake was the big target, Amanda the moving target, and Garrett’s attention along with Simon would be on getting into the Cavanagh building with Joss.
“Stand by,” Simon ordered. “Joss, when you’re ready.”
As expected, Ronan had agreed to guard the doctor and their patients. He’d also told them he was out as soon as they returned. Ilsa had warned him she would argue against him leaving her care so soon, but Drake read the clear intention in Ronan’s eyes. He needed to be away from all of them. The man had been through hell, and he deserved the chance to make his way in the world.
“Joss will be exiting the subway in thirty seconds,” Simon spoke again. Though Joss was also outfitted with a communicator, she wouldn’t draw attention to it by talking. Simon tracked her using a device in the truck. “Get ready.”
Their plan was pretty straightforward, Joss would report her kidnapping to her former employer. She would state it happened as soon as she left the facility the day before. Additionally, she would state they had taken her previously but wiped her memory. Running on adrenaline and anger, she would make her case based on the truth.
It would be enough to get her in the door and close to her supervisor—whom she stated had clearance for the Cavanagh building. Drake hated the plan and admired it in the same breath.
“I have her.” He’d know her stride anywhere. She walked with a purpose, her dark hair seeming to writhe with the breeze and her expression fierce. Still watching her through the binoculars, he murmured, “Good luck, lady. We’re on your six.”
Though her expression didn’t change, she lifted one hand to adjust her sunglasses and gave him a thumbs up. The moment she reached the gate was their one point of vulnerability.
Would they allow her admittance to find out what she knew? Or would they try to capture her on the spot? Respiration and pulse increasing, Drake forced himself to take a deep breath, then another. The adrenaline rush was coming.
The time she stood there speaking to the guard seemed to drag on forever, then they walked her inside as she had on previous occasions. He could breathe again. “She’s in. We’re a go.”
Joss told them, if they did as they had before, she would be in her supervisor’s office within the ninety-second window. Sliding the binoculars into the pocket of his vest, Drake stood and slid on the titanium shades. The gear switched on, and gave him a layout of his target ahead and he began tracking heat signatures.
“After you, Drake,” Simon gave him the final call and Drake let the adrenaline flow as he raced forward. One leap and then he was off the five-story building. He barely felt the shock of the landing as he hit the ground. The run—more a sprint—helped him build speed. While he wasn’t invulnerable, his tougher skin and strength would allow him to burst through the concrete and metal. He could also take a bullet hit, as long as they didn’t go for his eyes. Hence the shades.
A shout signaled he’d been spotted, but less than at ten yards away, it was too late for them to do more than pull their weapons. Drake hit them before they could clear the safeties. He sent one man flying and knocked the other out with a light tap to his skull. Shoving the man away, he slammed his fist into the gate. The metal buckled as the electricity surged then sparked and exploded as he gripped it and sheered it off.
Inside, klaxons began to sound, but Drake focused on his target. He took out the obstacles, battering his way to the courtyard. Bullets slammed into the ground around him. One hit his vest then another. They bruised like a bitch, but he didn’t slow down.
“Incoming!” Amanda let loose with glee, and her blasts took out the high positions. They hadn’t even seen her coming, their attention so focused on Drake. He cut left, hitting the armory. A dozen men sprang into action when he burst inside. It took him a minute, but they were soon all down. After dragging the bodies out, he set the C-4 and abandoned the building.
“Fire in the hole,” he warned. The building went up in flames. The blast struck him, even as he braced for it and leaned into the force. Fractured concrete struck him, but he kept it away from the downed men. The dump truck had already made it to the courtyard. More men spilled out of the local buildings, and Drake shook off the blast and charged them.
“We have them.” Garrett’s voice echoed in the back of his mind, but Drake didn’t slow. This whole place was based on the concept of experimenting on the enhanced. They’d tried to hurt Joss.
The sea of men coming at him opened fire, and a bullet scored along his cheek. Another dug a groove across his skull. He grabbed the first gun in reach and broke it. Then he seized one of the men and wielded him like a bat, slamming the others away.
“Evacuating in four,” Simon began. “Three, two…all aboard.”
“Okay, big guy, I’m on board.” Joss’s sweet voice penetrated the rage hazing his vision. “We’re getting your guys out.”
An explosion separated the men surrounding him as Amanda created a circle of fire. Shouts went up and one guy spun, aiming upward. Drake caught his gun, jerked it out of his hands then slapped it across his face. A bone crunched in the guy’s nose and he went down.
Pivoting, Drake plowed through Amanda’s fire then headed for the main gates. He caught the back of the dump truck as it sped past him and then landed in the back. As soon as they were clear, another explosion went up—a cataclysmic boom.
“Holy shit, what was in their armory?” Amanda’s demand assured them all she was okay. Keeping watch on thei
r six, Drake braced one hand on the metal side. The infrared showed the whole place in flames and not much movement.
The goal hadn’t been to kill everyone there. One by one, red blurs began to separate themselves.
“We’ve got survivors, and they are evacuating.”
“Clear the area, Amanda.” Simon’s cool voice brooked zero arguments.
“I will, as soon as y’all are out of the fire zone.” She flew higher, though. Drake tracked her movement for a moment then returned his attention to the road behind them. No vehicles spun out to follow them, nor any enhanced. Where were Josh and Curtis? Or had they been eliminated as Joss had indicated the teams discussed? Drake couldn’t quite bring himself to care.
“Two minutes…” Garrett said.
Then Joss was at his back, one hand touching him lightly. She didn’t move alongside him, and he didn’t complain, because he could shield her from any stray shots with his body.
Another turn, and they were belowground, descending into a parking structure. Time to switch vehicles.
“Go, Amanda,” Drake said. “We’re at checkpoint two.”
Simon’s orders had been very specific, once they were out of sight, she had to clear the area. Her laughter answered them.
Simon said, “She’s clear. Drake, help me with Michael.”
Pivoting, Drake checked Joss over first. Even in the shadows of the garage, he could see the blood on her cheek. At his frown, she grinned. “Trust me, the other guy looks a lot worse.”
One kiss. He allowed himself the contact before he went to his captain.
“Fuck me,” he whispered as he stared down. “What the hell did they do to him?”
“I don’t know. We get him to Ilsa first.” But Simon was also running a sweeper over him. They had to check for any devices that might be used for tracking. Garrett abandoned the truck and switched for a van. At Simon’s nod, Drake lifted Michael while Simon maneuvered Rex, then they were in the van.
His adrenaline still rushed him, but Drake remained in the back with the downed men while Simon moved to the front. They couldn’t always fool the street cameras, or technology, but they could the eyes on the ground.
“Sending EMP.” Garrett announced, then pressed a button on a small device. The pulse from the dump truck would knock out the cameras for the surrounding blocks. Drake’s glasses shut down, and he stripped them off. After waiting a beat for the pulse to work, Garrett turned on the van’s engine. It was an older model and didn’t rely on computers like the latest versions.
Fifteen minutes after recovering Michael and Rex, they were out and on their way to the docks. Simon kept passersby on the street from remembering them. Between the midtown explosion and the facility they’d just blown, no one was looking at them.
Drake didn’t take a real breath until they were aboard the boats and racing the waves to disappear. Only then did he check on Michael once more. Joss wrapped an arm around him and laid her cheek against shoulder.
“Are they going to be all right?”
Michael had lost weight. His skin seemed gray and sallow, and he showed signs of a dozen intravenous ports. They’d stripped off the lines feeding them, but Simon elected to leave the ports in place until they got him to Ilsa.
“He has to be.” Drake swore. They needed their captain back. Next to Michael, Rex looked even worse, if that was possible. Still as stone, no expression, no ports—no sign of anything. If not for Simon checking his pulse, Drake worried he might already be dead.
“Go faster,” Simon ordered and Garrett opened the throttle. Drake braced Joss and they looked as one back to the rapidly vanishing shore.
Victory always came at a cost. Drake tightened his grip on Joss. Always.
* * *
Joss wrestled with how well the team worked together all the way back to their Rock Isle estate. The men moved together like extensions of the same entity. From planning to execution, they fell into tandem even when they disagreed. Arguments were settled by reason. The way they responded to each other, finished each other’s thoughts and used verbal shorthand with each other—their actions demonstrated their trust and faith in each other.
Amanda’s landing on the boat threw her, but she went straight into Simon’s arms. The depth of affection between her and Simon seemed too intimate to be stared at, so Joss had turned to Drake. He gave her a small smile and held her hand. The ride to the island seemed to take forever, and the gray skies turned leaden. Behind them, smoke continued to rise from the city.
The scale of the destruction made her heart ache. No way they didn’t lose people at the facility. Lives were lost in battle, but this was New York. It was home. They shouldn’t be at war here.
The moment Garrett docked the boat, Drake lifted Michael while Garrett and Simon took Rex, then they were off the boat and double-timing it to the house. A part of her felt weird knowing the men by reputation rather than knowing them personally. She understood Rex was one of them, but it was Michael who’d had such a profound impact on Drake.
Had they gotten to them in time?
At the house, the men vanished up the stairs with their patients. Amanda followed on their heels and she could only assume Ilsa awaited them. Alone, Joss glanced around the entryway before closing the door and walking to the kitchen. A part of her wondered if she should follow, be there for Drake. The sensible side of her argued she would only be in the way.
What she could do was clean up her cheek, maybe make some coffee. Pushing open the swinging door, she halted at the sight of Ronan standing at the kitchen windows, his attention focused toward the same woods she and the others had just hiked through to get to the house.
From the rear, she had a full view of his damaged wings, the raw muscle and bones still exposed and the hint of white fluff and feathers. God, she’d seen plucked chickens who looked healthier than he did. Not wishing to disturb him, she began to back out of the room.
“Don’t go.” Quiet, authoritative, yet, almost aggressive in his command—it seemed an odd combination from a fallen angel.
He’s not really an angel. Still, the man did have wings. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I thought I’d put on coffee for the doctor.”
Pivoting, the man faced her. She almost hated herself for her relief at not having to look at his damaged wings so closely. “You were injured in the operation?”
“I’ll heal.” Since he didn’t want her to leave and he was talking to her, she followed her earlier instincts. The kitchen, though large, seemed smaller with the agitation surrounding the man.
“I saw the bodies…but only two. No sign of Rory?”
Rory. They’d all mentioned her frequently. “No, I don’t think so. I’d assume they would have said if they’d found her.”
“Maybe.” He didn’t sound convinced.
Busying herself with getting the coffee set up, she glanced at him. “You don’t trust them.” It wasn’t a question. This man was on the outside looking in. It seemed to radiate all over him.
“No.” Well, at least he didn’t disagree. “You shouldn’t, either.”
“Fair enough, though I’ll have to take the advice with a grain of salt.” Coffee started, she went to the sink to wet a paper towel.
“Why?” The snapped question made her turn to look at him. He stared at her with…some indefinable emotion. Anger? Sadness? Rage? Madness? She didn’t know what to call it.
“Because I don’t know you.” Because he deserved the amendment, she added, “Outside of the few articles I read in the paper about you and the others.”
He said nothing.
Touching the wet towel to her cheek, she suppressed a wince. “You know, the ones calling you all heroes.”
“I know which ones you’re talking about,” he said, then stalked across the room to the door. Twisting, she tracked his progress and grimaced at the sight of those damaged wings. One hand on the door, he paused. “We’re not heroes. Not anymore. If you see Rory, tell her I had to go.”
<
br /> Then he was gone.
A moment later, she heard the front door open then close. Abandoning the kitchen, she walked out to the entryway and watched him…walking away from the house.
For some reason, the image of that man, with his broken wings, walking left her heart sad. “It’s not true,” she told him, even if he couldn’t hear her. “It’s when we’ve been shattered that we discover how truly heroic we are.”
A scuff of a shoe on a step warned her of someone approaching. Turning, she found Drake descending. Concern rippled through his expression. “He’s gone?”
“I would guess. He said he had to leave.” Pulling the damp paper towel from her cheek, she frowned at Drake’s battered exterior. He’d gotten rid of the jacket and his shirt was riddled with holes and tears. “Are those bullet holes?”
“Yes,” he said, crossing the foyer to where she stood. Had she been flying on adrenaline on the boat? Why hadn’t she noticed how torn up he was? Dark skin hid bruises, but he had cuts, scrapes and more.
“You’re bleeding.”
“I’ll heal.” He stopped her when she would have gone looking for a first aid kit. Cupping her chin in his hand, he studied her cheek. “Is that your only injury?”
She held up her bruised and barked knuckles. Punching someone could tear the skin off and she’d laid out three—her escort, her former C.O., and the bastard he’d had waiting to drug her. Drake didn’t need to know all that. “I’ll heal.”
For a moment, a scowl crossed his face when she echoed his statement, then he laughed and pulled her into his arms. “We found them.” The relief in him shook her, then she was holding onto him tightly.
“I saw you—for a moment, during the op. I saw them shooting at you, and you were in the middle of some of the most highly trained men and women I’ve ever worked with…”
“I’m fine. You’re fine. We got Michael and Rex.” Yet something continued to trouble him.
“What’s wrong?”
“It was too easy.” He sighed, setting her back on her feet and then taking her hand. Together, they walked into the kitchen.
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