Chapter Fifteen #2
Digging for his phone, Lance stepped back into the shadows and dialed a number that had been listed as Booty Call in his phone.
I should have done this sooner. He sent a text and took a deep breath before following that up with a call and shoving the phone in his back pocket. Then he stepped into view.
Jasmine ignored the blood sliding over the back of her hand as she lay upon the roof. The angle wasn’t perfect, but she did have a bead on the scum-sucking Dusan Jakovich.
She was well on her way—broken heart and all—to increasing the distance between her and Lance Beckner, or Baldwin.
He’d made his decision and as much as she wanted to hate him for it, she couldn’t.
Did she trust him now? After all, he’d made his stance clear and again, maybe if she weren’t dealing with her own broken heart, she would be angry.
I should have known. I don’t get a happily ever after.
It was called paying her dues. She’d been a shit person for many years and she had penance to deal with.
However, her California exit had been waylaid as she’d gotten to Mark’s apartment to say her farewells in time to see him getting dragged away by Dusan’s men and shoved into the back of a black SUV.
Sorrow had instantly shoved to the back of her thoughts as anger and the need for vengeance rose swiftly.
The man had tried to have her killed, she gotten over it.
He wasn’t the first. He’d tried to have Lance killed.
Upsetting? Yes, but the man was an undercover cop.
It wasn’t the first time for him either.
But her friend? Single father? Hell to the fuck no.
Scorched earth was a saying. And that bastard was going to get to see it up close and personal. She’d followed, her unease growing as she’d realized where their destination was going to be. Hopping out a block away, she’d tossed cash at the driver and began to jog.
It hadn’t taken too much for her to make her way up to the roof of the building she entered then to jump across to get to the one she needed to be at, her bag slamming into her back and shoulder with each jump.
Positioned as she was where the shadow wouldn’t give away her location, she peeked over the edge of the roof, making sure Dusan was still in her line of sight. Gaze zeroing in on Mark and his beaten body as he somehow stood there.
“Damn it, Mark, why didn’t you just tell them what they wanted to know?” Her words were laced with tears she refused to allow free. He never failed to try to protect her.
This was all her fault. Because she’d brought him in when she needed help with Lance. And that man had repaid her loyalty by siding with the Fed who had betrayed them all.
Her phone buzzed against her hip and she lowered herself from view and dug it out to stare at the number. No one should have this number other than Lance and Mark.
She didn’t recognize it. But the area code did ring familiar in her mind. Wisconsin.
“Hello?” Jasmine lifted herself up a tiny bit and peered over again.
“Jasmine? It’s Declan McBride.”
She fell back. Fuck my life. What else can go wrong? And it had to be wrong for a man who reviled her to call. “Is Caro okay? DJ?” She didn’t have the energy to tighten her core and peer over the edge while having this conversation, whatever it was supposed to be.
She and Declan hadn’t ever gotten along.
She’d made his life hell and he’d never attempted to make her think he liked her in the slightest. But all that had changed when he’d married her twin.
Jasmine did her best not to antagonize him.
She’d just gotten her sister back and didn’t want to put her in the position where she had to choose.
“I’m supposed to tell you not to do anything foolish.
” A grunt. “Now that that’s out of the way, I heard from our mutual friend and have been updated on the situation.
I’ve made some calls and there are people on the way both to your current location and to the Jankovic house for his attempt on law enforcement’s life. ”
“Why are you calling me?” Leveraging up on her elbow, she peered over the edge once more, frowning as Dusan’s son strolled into view.
“Believe me, not anything I care to do but—”
She hung up on him, needing to focus on the scene before her. Her twin was fine, her nephew was fine, and honestly that’s all she cared about.
Shit. I have to get down there. The father was bad enough, but when his son, his highly unstable son, showed up, this is when things went sideways.
Crouched, she skimmed the edge, searching for the fire escape.
The second she fired her first shot, they would have her location and she would have to get moving.
Another peek over the side and she palmed her sidearm. She didn’t have any way of hearing the conversation happening street level, but she would have to be blind to miss the escalating anger between the parties.
A low rumble rolled from her chest as Michel backhanded Mark, rocking his head on his shoulders. The man stumbled but held himself upright once more. Lifting his chin, he spat out a response.
She knew him well. He’d made his peace with whatever was going to happen to him. And she also knew him well enough to know he would sacrifice himself for her. Settling against the corner, she set her aim.
I’ve never wished more for a sniper rifle.
Her phone buzzed against her ass cheek but she didn’t move. She wasn’t aiming at Dusan, no, her bead was on Michel. The hot-headed young upstart who thought he couldn’t do any wrong. Thought his shit didn’t stink and he could get away with anything because of who his daddy was.
The firehose. Fuck, yes! Staying low, she crouch-waddled to the thick roll of firehose. Here’s hoping you’re fucking fifty meters and not thirty-six. SIG by her knee, she unrolled the heavy hose enough to loop it around her waist and give it the best knot she could finagle.
As she unlocked the roll so it would spin unincumbered, she went back to the edge and peered over. What the fuck is he doing there?
Lance walked into view, drawing the attention of both Dusan and Michel. Robert was bleeding, looked like from his gut and head. She recognized the head injury but the gut one…that was new.
Not a shred of sympathy for him. Bastard could bleed out for all she cared. Checking her magazine, she took a deep breath and sighted again. Lance was shaking his head and gesturing at Mark. Michel puffed out his unimpressive chest and stepped in front of Lance.
She snorted a laugh as Lance barely hesitated, just threw a punch, knocking him to the ground.
Good job.
Dusan’s men drew on him when he stepped toward their boss.
All she could see was a lot of gesturing and Michel struggling to get back on his feet.
No one helped him and when he finally managed to accomplish that, he drew his gun and aimed it at Lance.
At the last second, he adjusted slightly and shot by Lance’s head and killed Mark.
She’d retaliated before her friend’s body even hit the ground.
With a yell, she fired at Michel as she leaped over the edge and began running, just like she’d learned to do years ago when she’d learned Australian abseiling during one of her many courses.
Yes, she was a sitting duck but it didn’t matter. They would pay.
She’d taken out two of their men before they’d realized what she was doing. Lance dove out of the way even as he glanced up at her as he rolled. She watched him mouth her name, then she focused again on Dusan and his men. As well as Michel’s men.
Two slugs tore into her left shoulder and side and she nearly dropped her gun before she could switch to her right.
“Jasmine!”
Everything happened at once, and yet, at the same time, it was like in slow motion.
She didn’t waste time yelling back, needing Lance to realize he had to focus on keeping himself alive.
Dusan’s men were doing their best to protect their boss.
Lance began firing. In her periphery she noticed Robert went down but her focus was on Mark and holding onto every shred of hope in the universe that her friend was still alive.
Her body jerked as the reel lurched forward. Yeah, this may not have been the smartest idea ever. Her back pocket began buzzing once again, pushing a bit of hysterical laughter from her.
I’m running down the side of a building, praying the fire hose knotted at my waist doesn’t give out before the reel it’s attached to careens over the edge, like I have time to pause in that and the firefight to answer my phone.
Another lurch forward and she figured they were firing at the hose now, trying to get it to tear and plummet her. Two stories left. Ejecting the empty magazine, she pulled out another and slammed it home and began firing once more.
Her makeshift repel rope jerked her to a hard stop, left her there for a few seconds, then gave away about ten feet above the ground and she fell. Hard.
Immediately rolling, she came up as fast as she could.
Her right knee hurt like hell and was nearly non-weight-bearing.
Scanning the area for Dusan, she tried to slow her breathing as she cased the view, needing to be calm, be focused.
Needed to be ready for anything. Bodies littered the streets and sirens screamed in the distance.
Moving around the side of a haphazardly parked SUV, she found him.
Robert’s body was a crumpled heap not too far away, but the man she sought had no weapon and two holes in his leg.
Lance was over him, weapon trained and looking far more like the detective she’d once propositioned than the bad boy undercover agent to whom she’d lost her heart.
“You know,” Lance said, not looking away from Dusan even as he beckoned her closer. “Declan says next time he fucking calls you pick up.”
She went to him because she was powerless to do anything but that. He angled himself so he could see both her and Dusan.
“You okay?”
Her eyes went to Mark and she shook her head. “Starting to think I’m getting too old for this shit.”
Bastard nodded. Then he gripped her chin and kissed her. “You should find a nice man to settle down with and raise some kids.”
“You’ll never get away from me. I will hunt you down and kill you. Kill your family, your kids, hell, I may even kill your parents,” Dusan raged.
Lance moved to his side and whispered something in his ear. Jasmine walked over to Mark’s body and whimpered as she sank to the ground beside him. He was gone.
“I’m so sorry, Mark. You stupid fuck, you had a kid. Why didn’t you just give them what they wanted?” Tears streamed as she collapsed onto his chest.
Law enforcement arrived and she was pulled away from Mark by Lance, who held her close as he escorted her to the ambulance so they could check her knee. Two federal marshals walked up and showed badges.
“Ms. Hoyer, Mr. Baldwin?”
They nodded. Lance shifted to partially protect her. All she could think about was Den, Mark’s now parentless son, and how she had to get to him.
“We’re here to take you in and debrief from the undercover operation.”
“Give us a minute.” Lance’s tone booked no room for argument. Even the EMT gave them space. He captured her face in his hands, thumbs smoothing along her skin.
“Baby,” he said softly. “I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t choose you. Biggest mistake of my life.”
She removed his touch from her face, noting how his expression became pained but she couldn’t think of his feelings, not right now. “I have to get to Den. I’m all he has left now.”
Lance nodded. Once. Firm. “What do you need from me?”
“A diversion, and you to get my bag from the roof.”
“Consider it done. And, baby? When we meet up after this, because we sure as hell will, I’m taking you over my knee for jumping off the fucking roof like that.” He kissed her once. Hard. “Go get our son. I’ll find you.”
He walked off and did what he’d promised. Created a diversion. Went right after Dusan, leaving her to slip away like a shadow. Like her namesake. Smoke.