Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Nick woke to the soft glow of the screen reflected in Sloane’s eyes as she stared at the monitor, skin pale, lips pursed tight. She pushed out a harsh breath, the sound a mix of ice and fury.
He knew that look. It was the one she got right before she burned something — or someone — to the ground. And based on the fire blazing in her eyes, she’d already lit the match.
The mattress dipped as he pressed his palm on the edge, pushed, the simple motion causing him to hiss out his next breath as pain throbbed through his leg, every cut the doctor had cleaned burning to life.
He managed to brace his back against the headboard a second before Sloane bolted to his side, shaking her head before grabbing a pillow — stuffing it behind him.
She eased onto the bed, her auburn hair falling in a cascade of gentle waves across her shoulder.
Damn, she was beautiful. From the intensity in her gaze to the fierce line of his jaw, the perfect mix of muscles and curves that spiked his heart rate — had it pounding triple time from nothing more than a smile.
It didn’t matter if she was kicking in doors, staring down a sniper rifle or breaking firewalls with lines of code, the woman took his breath away.
And he knew he couldn’t deny it any longer.
She wasn’t just a crush, a temporary distraction. What he felt ran deep — an anchoring form of gravity, and he’d been in free fall for months.
Sloane scrunched up her face, adorable lines creasing the bridge of her nose. “Do you feel sick?” She pressed the back of her hand across his forehead. “Have a fever? Should I get Rowan or Chase?”
Nick snagged her wrist before she could jump up — ruin the intensely intimate atmosphere encasing the room. He smiled, everything easing from the simple touch of her skin against his. “I’m fine, I just…”
She snorted, fluttering the wispy strands around her face. “Have you looked in a mirror lately? You’re not fine, Nick. You’re damn lucky to be alive.”
“You said you were coming. I wasn’t worried.”
“That makes one of us.” She smoothed her fingers across his jaw, brushing her thumb along his chin. “You really scared me today.”
He leaned into the gentle touch. “Sorry. I swear, I didn’t go looking—”
“I know. Buck and Dalton had plenty to say before they called it a night. Doesn’t make the risks you took any less real.”
“Like facing off against a dozen men, armed only with a Glock?”
She laughed, the lilting sound sending a shiver down his spine. Maybe he had a fever, after all. “I only had my go-bag. I’m lucky I had anything at all.”
“Thank you.”
The cockiness faded from her smile, as a genuine one shaped her lips. “I promised I’d always have your back. That won’t ever change.”
“Good. Then you’ll tell me what the hell you discovered, because I saw the way you were staring at whatever’s on your screen. You’re just a heartbeat away from going scorched earth.”
Her smile faded completely, her gaze darting over to the computer.
He sighed, gave in to the urge to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, the soft strands tickling his skin. “I know I look like I went ten rounds with a tank, but I’m well enough to listen because if my hunch is right, this involves the burn notice.”
She sighed, shoulders drooping a bit. “It’s so much more than just that.”
Nick grunted. “That doesn’t sound ominous, at all.”
“This…” She sighed, then explained that Avery had found a letter that had been conveniently deleted just moments before the burn notice went live. How it all circled back to the CIA.
“So, what does that mean? Someone inside the Agency sent a team to eliminate us?”
“If only it were that isolated.” She speared her fingers through her hair, tousled the curls about her face. “It’s a bounty, Nick. A kill order, sponsored by fucking Hill. Directive seven.”
Nick coughed, another jolt of pain pushing through his thigh. “Hill? As in Deputy Director Cyrus Hill? The bastard who’s been riding my ass for years because I’m too unconventional? That Hill?”
“Seven figures.” She nudged his shoulder. “At least, he didn’t undersell your worth.”
“How considerate.” He frowned. “Which means, there’s an identical bounty on you, too, right?”
“Extra if whoever completes the hit gets both of us in one go.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic.” He grabbed the blankets, flung them back.
Sloane shifted in front, blocking him from doing anything other than staring into her gorgeous green eyes. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“We can’t just sit here, waiting for some wet-squad or wanna-be-assassin to knock on the door. We need answers. Weapons. Hell, we need to isolate before we bring this shitstorm to Bodie’s front door.”
“And we’ll do it all, including going off-grid, but it can wait until you can move without puking.
Bodie’s got the place on lockdown, and I’m sure Buck or Dalton are walking the perimeter.
I swear those guys never sleep. So, keep your ass in the bed until either Chase says you can move or the sky falls. ”
“I can hunt and heal at the same time.”
“I’m only asking for a few hours. Until you don’t look like freaking Casper.”
Nick huffed out a breath and stared at her. “Were you always this bossy?”
“Were you always this stubborn?”
He laughed, winced. “You did that on purpose.”
“Maybe just a little.” She leaned in, palmed his jaw. “Rest. There’ll be plenty of time to kick ass once you’re healed.”
Nick placed his hand over hers, held her in close as he ran his fingers along her jaw, slipped them into her hair.
She inhaled, mouth slightly open, the air thick with shared tension. Not from the bounty or the previous ambush. This was primal. Unyielding.
He hedged his bet, drew her closer, pausing an inch away.
Her breathing kicked up, the pulse at the base of her neck practically jumping out of her skin. “Nick…”
He held firm, fisting his fingers around a mass of auburn locks. “For once, Sloane, don’t talk.”
He closed the scant distance, lingering long enough she could pull away if she wanted to before sliding his lips over hers, giving himself over to the kiss.
Destiny.
That’s what she tasted like.
All the reasons he’d kept fighting. Why every other relationship had failed.
He’d been waiting for her.
Sloane hummed, fully committed, her fingers threading through his hair as she moved closer, pressing against his chest without touching his thigh. Not that he would have noticed, the sheer pleasure of her in his arms overshadowing everything else.
He eased back, smiled, then kissed her again. Harder, deeper, one hand landing on the small of her back as he tilted her head, delved inside.
He moaned, mapped out a hundred ways he could hold her without blacking out, when the door rattled, Bodie, Dalton, Rowan, and Buck bustling through a second later.
They didn’t give Nick and Sloane’s position a second look — the fact she was practically plastered against him, hair disheveled, lips slightly kiss swollen — just stopped at the foot of the bed, mouths pinched tight, eyes narrowed.
Bodie pointed to the main exit. “We’ve got company. Six heat signatures tracking along the west fence line, heavily armed, moving in fast.”
Nick hissed. “Shit.”
“We’ll intercept. See what we’re up against. If this is a ‘stand and fight’ or ‘haul ass’ kind of situation.
” He tossed both of them a comms unit. “Sloane, hold down the fort. I’ll report in a few minutes.
Let you know the status. And for what it’s worth.
I already called in backup, but they’re a good fifteen minutes out. ”
Sloane tucked the unit in her ear, then catapulted off the bed, smoothing out her clothes as she grabbed her weapon off the computer station.
Nick readied the comm as he swung his feet over the edge, willed his damn legs to hold him as he palmed the headboard, tried to lever up.
Sloane pressed her hand against his chest before he could shift. “Stay put. You’re no good to anyone if you crack your head open trying to stand.”
Nick huffed, glanced at the door where his buddies had already disappeared. “I’m not sitting here, licking my wounds while some asshat tries to gun down my team.”
Sloane reached into the nightstand, retrieved his Sig, then placed it in his hand. “Now, you’re not sitting, you’re backing me up.” She huffed when he simply stared at her. “It’s you they’re after.”
“Not just me.”
“Fine, us. Let the others assess the situation. I’ll personally drag your ass out of here if Bodie so much as hints he needs help.”
Pain punched up through his thigh, a reminder that he really wasn’t in any shape to confront a band of highly trained assholes. Still…
A thump.
Heavy. Direct.
Followed by a sharp crack. A series of quick taps.
Nick growled. “That’s my brothers. I’d recognize their rifles anywhere.”
Sloane cursed, moved over. “Wrap your arm around my shoulders.”
He grunted but obeyed, rocking to his feet in a wave of nausea and pain.
His leg buckled, but Sloane caught his weight, braced him until he got it moving.
She angled them toward the door, gun leading the way, gaze sweeping the shadows in case someone had materialized inside the walls, when a concussive thud rolled through the room, knocked them back on the bed.
He hit hard, pain like lightning down his leg, his breath stalled like an iron fist in his chest. Dust and concrete powder rained down from the ceiling, the resulting shock rolling a mug across the floor.
A crack appeared along the far wall, spidering through the window and up to the beams.
Bodie’s voice sounded in his ear a moment later, voice edged with fury. “The fuckers have RPGs and freaking dynamite — probably some C4. We can’t hold them without bringing the entire structure down.”
Nick huffed. “Damn it. He’s ordering a fighting retreat.”
Sloane recovered first, patting him down, his obvious pain reflected in her eyes. She motioned for him to wait, stuffed her laptop and a couple other items in a bag, slung it over her shoulder, then offered him her hand.
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, heaved himself onto his good leg. No time to worry if he could walk, just a breath, then Sloane propelling him forward. He stumbled to the doorway, Sloane half-carrying him when Dalton appeared through the dust and the smoke.
He moved in, dared Nick to push him off, then wrapped his arm around Nick’s waist as he handed Sloane a carbine. “My truck’s down the side. We’ll likely encounter resistance.”
Nick nodded. “Then, it’s a good thing my arms aren’t broken. You ready?”
Dalton grunted, then struck off. Nick hobbled beside him, his feet barely touching the ground as his buddy shouldered most of his weight.
Sloane took point, rifle seated in her shoulder, head on a swivel.
They hit the main foyer, moving fast, when some asshole in tactical gear popped up outside the window — opened fire.
The rounds stitched across the reinforced glass, cracks weaving through the multiple layers as they ducked low, booked it down the hall. The door rattled, then gave beneath another thump, smoke pouring in through the entrance, alarms and sprinklers springing to life.
Sloane stopped at the corner with the muzzle aimed back at the entrance. She waved them on, releasing a few quick trigger pulls once they were clear. Shouts erupted in the corridor, footsteps sounding behind them.
The rear exit loomed through the darkness, Sloane stepping in front before Dalton reached the door. She showed the countdown on her hand, then yanked it open, sliding out low and left as Dalton took Nick to the right. Shadows danced across the laneway, rain distorting any reflections on the ground.
Dalton angled him toward his Tacoma when something glinted off a streetlight a good five hundred yards up the road.
“Sniper.” Nick turned, took Dalton to the ground, snagging Sloane’s arm in the process.
They hit the pavement as a round smashed through the truck’s mirror, glass spraying across the asphalt.
Dalton grunted, swung his massive sniper rifle off his back, then crawled to his truck, took up a defensive position along the flatbed. He didn’t move, barely breathed as he planted the scope against his eye, scanned the horizon.
The wind howled through the surrounding trees, the ocean roaring in the background as the waves crashed against the rocks, salty brine heavy in the air. The foghorn called in the distance, the mournful tone bouncing off the scud rolling back across the shoreline.
Dalton shifted, tilted his head ever so slightly, finger caressing the trigger before he fired. The rifle coughed out a round, the butt slamming into his shoulder before a strangled cry sounded a second later, a dull thud drifting on the wind.
Dalton shouldered the weapon, grabbed Nick’s arm. “We’re moving. Now.”
He shoved Nick into the passenger side, as Sloane hopped in the back, then rounded the truck, got the vehicle bouncing down the driveway a second later.
Bodie, Rowan, and Buck swerved in front of them, three trucks barreling down the road, water spraying out from the tires, headlights punching through the fog.
Dalton turned right onto the main street, headed northeast.
Nick glanced back at Bodie’s place, cringed. “Shit, that’s gonna need some serious repairs.”
Dalton shrugged. “With the kind of work we take on, I doubt it’ll be the last time it gets hit.”
“Remind Bodie of that when this is all over.”
“We’ll have his back. In the meantime…”
Sloane leaned in from the rear seat. “Any chance you know where we’re headed?”
Dalton sighed. “Buck’s calling Tierney. Said something about her having a safehouse. All off-grid. Limited access points. He’ll text us the coordinates once he’s sweet talked her into having the three of you.”
“The three of us?”
“We can’t all go to ground. Buck’ll run security while Nick’s trying not to bleed. Tierney seems to trust him the most. In the meantime, we’ll communicate via a secure connection. Get to the bottom of this because they’ve made it personal.”
Sloane gazed at Nick, nodded toward Dalton.
Nick shifted, tried to find a position that didn’t shoot pain down his thigh. “About that… Sloane uncovered…”
Lights.
Swinging in behind them, the beams closing in fast.
Nick stared behind at the vehicles, the truth cutting through him. He focused on Sloane. “Is it too soon to yell that the sky’s falling?”
Because they hadn’t escaped. They’d just changed cages.