by Kris Norris
Colt smiled. “And here I’d thought you were sleeping with your eyes open.” He grunted when she swatted him in the chest. “Temper, sweetheart.”
“So, we shouldn’t meet with much resistance.”
“That’s what I’m hoping. I guess this means you’re done watching?”
“Can’t look for clues if we don’t go inside.”
He nodded. He felt restless, too. Hated waiting. Watching. Biding his time when they could be actively making forward progress. But, a part of him wanted to drag this out. Not just to spend more time with her—alone—but because he wasn’t sure how she’d feel once they got inside. Traced her steps back to where she’d been held.
How he’d feel. If her blood was on the floor…
“You’re stalling.” Ellis squeezed his thigh. “I’m a big girl, Brett. I’ll be okay.”
“Who says I’m stalling because of you?” He’d intended it to be flippant. Thought maybe a bit of easy banter and sarcasm would reduce the obvious tension, but, damn…
The look she gave him. All big blue eyes, and pink pursed lips. Completely at odds with how she’d been sitting there all this time. It was compassion and simmering heat. But there was something else. Something deep. Pure. The same way she’d looked at him when he’d come back from the field when an op had gone sideways. His brothers injured. Intel and targets lost. He’d be feeling perched on the razor’s edge. No way to get off without shredding part of his soul. Then, she’d look at him—exactly like this. Touch him softly, like she was, now, and everything would quiet. Just slide into place, as if she’d shut out the world just for him.
He swallowed, but it didn’t help dislodge the ball of emotion in his throat. The one tightening his chest. Fuck, he was in way over his head.
She reached over, brushed her thumb along his jaw. “I got out. And you saved my ass. Nothing else matters.”
He placed his hand over hers. Kept it pressed against him. “They hurt you. That’s not something I’ll ever forget.” That ball thickened. Welled higher. “Or forgive.”
Her eyes widened, and he knew she’d understood the deeper meaning. That he’d never forgive himself for letting her go—not hunting her down. Saving her before this whole ugly mess began. “Shall we?”
The door chimed as she opened it, patting down her vest once she was standing outside. It still amazed him how cool she was. Detached. This definitely wasn’t the MI soldier he’d fallen in love with. But there was an unmistakable allure to watching the new Ellis move. Honed grace with a lethal undertone woven through. Not powerful like him. Like his brothers. Often relying on brute strength and sheer willpower to get them through. Ellis glided over the ground. Almost like a dancer, but one with deadly intent.
She rounded the Jeep, nodding toward the bridge. “You got the camera pattern down?”
“Twenty seconds to get across and over to the post below the camera. Wait fifteen then bolt for that first warehouse. We’ll need to pause for five then hoof it along the front to keep from getting caught on that far one panning the entire front area.”
She smiled. “Should have a few seconds to spare.” She took a step forward, then stopped, sliding her gaze his way. “And just so you know, it wasn’t your fault. What happened to me with McCormick. I made my choices. So, you might want to cut yourself some slack.”
“Ellis—”
She was gone. Striding toward the bridge. Practically bouncing along on the balls of her feet. Floating. He grunted then darted after her, catching up with her as she paused on this side of the bridge, looking both ways—clearing the streets as far as they could see—as she waited for the camera to pan the other way.
Ten seconds and they were off, quick-stepping along the pavement. Keeping time with the sweeping motion far off to their left. Ellis detoured toward the post, positioning herself below it as it stilled for a second then started moving, again.
She counted to fifteen, then headed for the large, metal structure forty-five degrees off to their right. The hum of an engine sounded along the road, and Ellis changed her direction mid-stride, darting behind a large tractor-trailer parked at the edge of the buildings—feet behind one of the sets of tires.
An old white panel van turned onto the road, slowly crossing in front of them then continuing toward the warehouses closer to the water.
Colt tapped her shoulder—circled his finger. She moved to the other end, showing the countdown on her hand. He smiled. He knew she’d still be keeping track in her head. Would already have her exit timed.
The road remained deserted as they darted back out, staying close to the wall as they maneuvered toward the third building. Ellis moved quickly but efficiently, stopping at the door. Her mouth pinched tight as she glanced at the frame, clenched her jaw then waved at the lock.
Colt pulled the keys Six had retrieved out of his pocket, handing them to her—hoping they still worked—as his gaze slide to where she’d been staring. A red smear filled the grooves on the side of the door, as if someone had wiped it down in a rush. Hadn’t bothered to get between the cracks.
A loud ringing sounded in his head.
Blood. Her blood. On the frame. And the fuckers had just brushed it off. As if it meant nothing. Was an inconvenience they’d had to deal with.
The door slivered open, revealing more stains on the frame before Ellis’ silhouette blocked them out for a moment, her lithe body slipping inside.
Colt followed, clearing the room as she closed the door before stepping into her. Trapping her there. “You were bleeding so bad you left a fucking handprint down the side?” He exhaled. “I don’t know how you made it all the way to the office.”
She palmed his jaw. “A mix of fear and determination. Dying out there sounded like a better option than what would have happened in here, so…”
So, she’d dragged her ass a couple of miles while slowly bleeding out. Christ, she amazed him.
He backed away, took a deep breath. “The place should be empty, and Rigs and Blade cleared it of explosives, but we shouldn’t assume they haven’t come back. Left us more surprises.”
She nodded then struck off, gun at the ready, diligently clearing each space before heading to the next. She seemed to know where she was going, winding her way through a few doors and hallways before stopping in one of the side rooms. She jingled the keys, unlocked the door, then swung it open. A lone chair sat in the middle of the room, and Colt knew this was where they’d held her. Fucking tortured her. He glanced at the floor, but they’d done a decent cleanup job. Just the odd darker stain to suggest something had been spilled.
Ellis took a step in then stopped, staring at the seat. A tremor worked through her, her breathing erratic. Colt moved in behind her, gently palming her hips. Shivers passed beneath his palms, the bit of skin touching his thumbs above her pants icy cold.
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. “They can’t hurt you. Never, again, if I have a say.”
She nodded. Too fast to be convincing, but he smiled against her hair, anyway.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He already knew she didn’t. Wouldn’t. Maybe couldn’t, yet. But, he needed to ask. Leave the possibility open.
Ellis sighed, still staring at the chair. “Maybe another time. We should scour the entire building. See if they left anything behind. Though, I spent most of my time in here, so, it’s a good place to start.”
He let go. Had to tell his brain three times to lift his fingers, but he made it happen—felt the physical loss when she moved away from him.
They split up, each taking half of the room. He checked the edges, under the metal counter on the far side. Every scratch, every patch that looked slightly different. But other than an old chewed piece of gum, his side was empty. He glanced over at Ellis. She was crouched beside the far wall, head tilted, hand hovering a couple of inches above the floor.
He picked his way over to her, double checking the area outside the room, first. No sense getting caught by
surprise. Finding it still clear, he stopped beside her then lowered, tipping his head to gain her attention.
Her gaze met his, and he frowned at the deep lines across her forehead. The extra white in her eyes, and the quick shallow breaths puffing the stray strands around her face.
Colt placed one hand on her shoulder. “El? What’s wrong?”
She swallowed, gagged a bit, then pointed at the edge of the wall. He followed her line of sight, finally spotting what looked like the corner of a small piece of black silicon wedged under the gray plastic trim lining the wall. He grabbed a knife out of his vest, using the tip to gently pry it away. The chip wasn’t much bigger than his fingertip, with tiny silver prongs around the edges. White lettering was stamped on one side, a good portion of the serial number scratched off. It was obviously part of a circuit board. Except, there wasn’t anything remotely electrical in the place.
Ellis carefully transferred it into her palm, turning it over, then staring off to one side, obviously lost in thought. He gave her some space, constantly checking over his shoulder—looking for any indication they weren’t alone. Though he’d been listening, a trained agent wouldn’t make any noise. An ex-military Spec Op guy wouldn’t even make the air move.
Nothing. Just the two of them, crouched in the room where Colt had nearly lost her. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t known she was there, just that she’d been hurt, and he hadn’t been around to help her.
Seemed to be a recurring curse with him. First, five years ago. Drinking his way to oblivion in Paris while she’d rotted in some cell god knows where. Then, several days ago. Here. Tied to that fucking chair still positioned in the room. Bleeding. Barely alive. Yet, both times, she’d found an escape. Maybe not the one she’d been hoping for, but it had saved her ass.
And he couldn’t be prouder.
He gave her shoulder a light nudge. “Want to fill me in on what you’re thinking? Do you know what that came from?”
She closed her hand, locking the tiny scrap in her fist. “I have an idea…”
He waited, but she sat there, staring at the wall. “El?”
She blinked, seemed to zone back in. “I need to check something out. Are you up for a drive?”
“After you tell me what this is about.”
“It’s a long story. And I don’t even know if my hunch is correct.” She waved off his attempt to question her. “It’s easier if I just get a few more facts before everyone starts to panic.”
He stood, staring down at her. “Oh, so, we’ll be panicking, now?”
She sighed then rose beside him. “Can we just go? Please?”
Damn, not only had she said please, but the way she was looking at him. Wide eyes. Glassy. As if she was holding back tears. Slightly downturned lips. Not a frown. More like she was trying not to let them quiver. And she was tense—her body primed for a fight. It was about as much vulnerability as the woman had shown since arriving on his doorstep—other than maybe last night. Lying beneath him. Asking him to hold her just a bit longer.
He shoved his hand through his hair. “Even if I say no, you’ll go without me, won’t you?”
Ellis winced, looked down at her closed hand then up to him. “It’s extremely important, Brett. And the truth is, I’d rather not go alone.”
Well, shit.
Colt pushed out a breath, wishing it would stem the nervous roll of his stomach. Because he had a very bad feeling where she wanted to go involved McCormick. Which meant men. Guns. All aiming at her. “Just answer me this…”
She arched one brow.
“Is this trip going to save your ass, or get it killed?”
Chapter 17
If tension could kill, Ellis would be dead. Crushed by the sheer weight of it suffocating the interior of the Jeep as Colt wove through the streets toward McCormick’s private storage depot.
She hadn’t told him that’s where they were going. Hadn’t given him any details other than the address. He’d looked it up on the GPS, frowned then started the vehicle and joined the evening traffic.
And he hadn’t spoken a word since.
It didn’t take her operative skills to know he was edgy. Worried. Not about himself. Over a dozen years in the Army—a decade of that with Delta Force—had bled out any form of self-preservation. He went into every op fully expecting to die for the cause. And she knew the same applied here, whether it was a conscious thought or not. It was simply ingrained in him.
Which meant the white knuckles. The slashes of red on his cheeks. The narrowed sideways glances and occasional huffed breaths were because of her. He was worried she’d get hurt. That he’d somehow fail her.
Correction. Fail her, again.
That part was on her. On how she’d handled her reaction to the note. Throwing the blame back at him when she’d known that it would have taken something extremely damning to make him bolt. Accept her departure without a word.
And she’d been right. That letter…
The words still haunted her. The outraged tone. The accusations. But more than that, she couldn’t erase the look on his face. His wide, tortured eyes. Grim mouth. The deep groves across his forehead. He’d been shocked. Horrified. Then overwhelmed with guilt. And something had shifted inside her. Like a lock tumbling over. Setting her free.
She’d been seeing the entire situation in a different light, since. Had realized that it had cost him just as much. That his wounds ran just as deep.
Not that the knowledge was much help. Brett wasn’t easily swayed. Simple words weren’t going to ease his conscience. He needed actions. Redemption by saving her ass a few more times. Chances he’d most likely get because what she had in mind…
It was borderline suicidal. But necessary.
She glanced at her hand. That chip. Brett was right. She suspected it was from a motherboard. Specifically, the missile guidance systems she’d acquired on her last mission—the ones the assholes kept asking her about. No way that was a coincidence. But every scenario that sprang to mind made her head spin. Because they were all bad. Epically bad.
His hand landed on her thigh. She glanced over at him, inhaling sharply. The man was stunning. His golden hair gleaming in the setting sun—highlighting streaks of copper and platinum. Blue eyes bright. Focused on her. His skin had taken on a more bronze tone—a trick of the red hues streaking the horizon.
He smiled, and her stomach dropped. Christ. “We’re here.”
She blinked, more than once to get her eyes to adjust to her surroundings, instead of him. He’d pulled up a block away, the top of the building rising above the surrounding stores. It wasn’t prime downtown. More of an industrial park on the edge of the south side. Definitely not the kind of place you’d suspect to house a top-secret facility. But that’s how McCormick rolled. Hiding in plain sight.
Colt glanced at the area then back to her. “Can you tell me where we are, now? Or does this need-to-know bullshit still only involve you?”
Ellis sighed. Looks as if it wasn’t just concern but a healthy dose of anger. Not that she blamed him. She’d expected a high degree of faith, so far. “You’re not going to like it.”
“Figured as much when you gave me the silent treatment.”
“It’s a storage facility.”
A clench of his jaw followed by a long rough exhalation. “Let me guess? CIA?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“What the hell does that mean?” He stared at her, eyes gradually narrowing. “Oh no. No, no no. You didn’t…”
“I know it’s not an ideal situation—”
“Ideal? Are you fucking high? Because if my suspicions are correct, this is Roger McCormick’s covert storage facility. The one he’s hiding from the CIA.”
She held out her hand with the small black chip. “I need to know if this came from inside.”
“So, we’re going to what? Waltz in there and ask?” He tightened one hand around the steering wheel, surprising her when it didn’t crack beneath the
strain. “Christ, El. Do you know the level of security he’ll have inside?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. Been here a number of times. There’re cameras covering the perimeter. CCTV throughout the entire facility. Doors are protected by a retinal scan, voice-activated pass-phrase, and an eight-digit code. There are armed guards patrolling the interior. Explosives and possible chemical agents as defensive measures.” She met his gaze. “I’ve never come across any dogs, though, so that’s something in our favor.”
Brett just sat there. Staring at her.
She wet her lip. “Brett—”
“I’m all for taking a risk for the good of the mission, but this…” He pointed at the building. “This is insane. The idea is to save you, not hand you over to the guy who wants you dead.”
She held up her hand, the chip tucked in her palm. “I know it’s risky, but if this is what I think it is, it’s worth it.”
“And what the hell do you think that is? Obviously, a microchip, but they’re everywhere.”
She flipped it over, pointing to the partial numbers. “It’s impossible to tell what this identifier is, but I’m pretty damn sure it’s from those missile guidance systems I acquired on my last mission. But if it is, how did it get in that warehouse?” She pointed at the building. “I know I didn’t have any on me because the last time I had them I was putting them in a secure box inside that facility. And why would those assholes keep asking me who else knew about them if they already had them, right there in the warehouse?”
Brett’s expression firmed. “Shit. You think McCormick’s playing both sides. Grabbing weaponry for the CIA but then fudging the numbers and selling some of it to the highest bidder. And he must think you’re on to him.”
“It would explain why I was taken, why they kept me alive. Tried to get me to talk. McCormick would want to know if I had any evidence stashed away, seeing as how I nearly took him down once before. He knows what I’m capable of. That I could have incriminating files ready to distributed if anything happened to me.”