Chapter 4 #3
Jagger followed that with a calm, “Just do like the lady said and put your weapon down nice and easy. There ya go.” He followed the man’s movements very closely. “That’s it. Just set it down right there, by your feet.”
“Damn it, Rafi, don’t!” The other man shouted. “You know what he will do to us if we are caught!”
Rafi ignored his friend and started to bend. Once they had him secured, it was only a matter of minutes before they’d convince his buddy to do the same.
It was almost over. The shipment of illegal weapons was all but seized. But just as his fingers were about to release the deadly rifle, a fish splashed in the water behind him.
A single, random act of Mother Nature. That’s all it took for the scene to go from under control to holy shit.
The splash startled Rafi, making him spin back on reflex to see what it was. As he swung around, the rifle still gripped in his hand moved with him.
A shot rang out. Rafi’s head jerked from the bullet’s force. Thick, red blood began to ooze from the fresh wound in the center of his forehead.
What the hell?
Jagger’s wide eyes flew to the only remaining target. His gut churned with an instant, powerful dread. He knew what was about to happen. Could see it all playing out in his mind’s eye.
As if bringing the unavoidable events to fruition, several things happened at once.
The barrel of Talia’s M16—which had slid slightly to her right, in the direction of the man who’d just been shot—started to slide back toward the remaining target.
One second, the man had been staring down at the dead guy lying at his feet one second. And the next, his murderous gaze had swung back up to them.
The rifle in his hands was still pointed straight at Talia’s chest.
“Don’t fucking do it!” Jagger shouted, putting the man in his sights.
The target’s finger started to pull the trigger.
Jagger took the shot, killing the man in an instant.
But another round had blasted through the air at that exact same time. And when he realized whose gun had also been fired—
No!
He watched in horror as Talia’s body jerked from the force of the now-dead target’s bullet. It struck her chest dead-center, the force of the impact throwing her off her feet and into the air.
Jagger was already running the small distance between them as she landed hard against the asphalt, her head bouncing twice before he was there.
“Talia!” He went to her, dropping straight down to his knees.
She was lying so still. Her eyes were closed, and she wasn’t moving.
“Did the vest catch it?” Christian rushed to his side.
“I don’t know.” He flung his rifle around, letting it hang against his back to give him more room to work.
Almost immediately, he found the spot where the bullet had struck. A clear hole had been ripped through the vest’s outer layer, but he couldn’t see whether it had gone all the way through.
Not waiting for direction from his team’s leader and medic, Jagger tore at the Velcro straps holding the tactical vest in place. Letting the rough straps fall loosely to the sides, he lifted the vest’s front panel up high enough to reach a hand in to check the bottom of the protective plate.
The material from her shirt felt slightly damp but not soaked as he would expect with a bullet wound. Hope blooming when he flipped his palm up and his fingertips brushed against a small protrusion in the otherwise smooth, Kevlar plate.
“I need a light!” he hollered to no one in particular, leaning his head to the side in an attempt to see.
Christian was already on it.
The former corpsman crouched down beside him. The beam from his small, tactical flashlight cut through the darkness to the area they needed to inspect.
Jagger knew he should probably step back and let the other man take over, given Christian’s extensive medical background. But this was Talia. She was his partner.
One op or a hundred, it didn’t matter.
My partner, my responsibility.
And he’d just failed her in the worst possible way.
“I don’t see any blood, either.” Christian motioned toward the area where the metal plate had warped.
Warped, not punctured. The protective vest had done its job.
Thank God!
The sense of relief Jagger felt in that moment was damn near overwhelming. But it was the soft, low moan coming from the woman lying before him that left him feeling dizzy and weak.
“She’s coming around.”
The comment came from Cade, who was now standing over Jagger’s shoulder. By now, both teams had gathered around to check on their fallen colleague.
“She’s going to be okay, right?” Jimmy asked. “Probably just got the wind knocked out of her, is all.”
You’d better damn well pray that’s all this is.
If not, he and Jimmy Boy were going to have a little chat. Because from where Jagger had been standing, the young sniper was the catalyst that had set the unexpected chain of events into motion.
Talia opened her eyes half-a-beat later. It took a few flutters for her lids to opened wide enough to see his face. When they did, when he caught sight of the golden browns of her hazy stare, Jagger nearly fell back on his ass with relief.
“Hey, darlin’.” He smiled down at her. “Welcome back.”
His words came out perfectly calm and unworried. Pretty much the exact opposite of what he was feeling.
“J-Jagger?” she stuttered his name with a frown. A few more quick, confused blinks followed, along with a stuttering, “W-What are you…d-doing?”
“Well, I was about thirty seconds away from giving you mouth-to-mouth,” he half-teased. “Lucky for you, it doesn’t look like that’s gonna be necessary after all.”
Talia’s cloudy gaze fell to his lips. Jagger knew better than to screw with someone who almost definitely had—at the very least—a mild concussion. But the need to make sure she wasn’t injured beyond that overrode any concern about social improprieties.
He leaned down close to her ear so only she could hear.
His voice dropped low, growing thick with a purposeful drawl.
Then, even knowing his plan could very well backfire on him in a spectacular way, Jagger whispered softly, “You keep lookin’ at my lips like that, I’ll have no other choice but to kiss you. ”