30. Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty
Kathleen’s favorite noodle place knew her order by heart, and they weren’t the least bit surprised when she asked them to double it to account for Gibson’s addition. She had walked three doors down to the liquor store to grab Gibson’s beer and was on her way out when she felt a prickling down her neck.
After several years on the job, one rapidly developed an instinct for when something was off, even when it wasn’t immediately identifiable.
Hoping Gibson would forgive her, Kathleen dropped the bottles of beer. They hit the pavement, smashing into pieces. She could smell the beer as it splashed over her pants, but she wasn’t paying attention. Instead, she was waving her arms dramatically and using the excuse of extreme, flustered annoyance to look up and down the street.
Kathleen clocked two dark SUVs parked down the street, a man across the road staring a little too pointedly at his phone, and a brunette woman walking toward her from the direction of the noodle shop. The woman had sparked her awareness, though Kathleen couldn’t explain why. Her gaze flicked over the brunette’s outfit, and though the approaching woman was wearing a jacket, it didn’t look like she was carrying a gun.
As the brunette neared, the realization hit Kathleen: the woman walked like Finn.
Fear flooded over her, adrenalin causing her heart to thud so forcefully she was acutely aware of it.
The brunette smiled, sensing Kathleen's reaction, the false grin a gesture without emotion. A second later, the brunette was on her.
Kathleen didn’t have time to draw the pistol under her arm. She feinted a punch toward the other woman’s face. Kathleen watched the brunette’s other hand, ready for an attack. The woman was fast—terrifyingly fast. The blow landed on Kathleen’s gut and pushed all the breath from her lungs. She doubled over, gasping.
While Kathleen was still struggling to get her breath, she felt her scalp sting as the brunette grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled. Kathleen sprang from her crouch with a sharp right hook that caught the brunette in the side of the neck—it would have hit the woman’s throat if the brunette hadn’t jerked back impossibly fast. Even so, the impact was hard enough that it should have put her off balance.
The brunette’s expression barely changed. That same smile was still in place, like a plastered mannequin. The blow must have hurt, but the woman didn’t relinquish her hold on Kathleen’s hair or waver. The brunette’s foot slammed into Kathleen’s ankle, and she cried out.
There was no time to catch herself. Kathleen was falling. The best she could do was shift so her hip and shoulder took the brunt rather than her head. She hit the pavement hard, pain jolting through her. Kathleen was still recovering when the woman’s hand snatched at her throat and squeezed. Kathleen grabbed the brunette’s wrist, fingers digging into the nerves there. What worked on most people merely made the woman grunt.
Tires squealed, and a glance let Kathleen know one of the SUVs she had spotted earlier had blocked the street while the other was zooming toward them. If the brunette got Kathleen in that car, she was dead. No question.
Kathleen brought her knee up to the brunette’s stomach to stop her from pressing forward as she shoved with her other foot against her hip. It was just enough leverage to keep the brunette from choking her out completely. Kathleen was still wheezing as she slammed the heel of her fist into the bottom of the brunette’s jaw, flinging her head back and snapping her teeth together so hard Kathleen could hear it.
A loud crack reverberated through the air, and something wet splashed over Kathleen. It took a second to process that someone had shot at the brunette. Her ear and part of her cheekbone were just gone. The brunette’s hold on Kathleen loosened as she slumped onto the pavement. Kathleen wasn’t sure if the other woman was dead or not, but she wasn’t planning to stick around to find out.
It was time to run.
Kathleen pivoted, intending to run in the other direction, when she noticed the broad-shouldered, pale-skinned man walking her way. His hair was a sandy blond, buzzed to military shortness at the sides and falling in longer, artful waves at the top. He had the same stalking gait as Finn and the brunette woman.
Shit.
Sight. Breathe. Exhale.
Fire.
The actions happened without conscious thought.
The shot Finn had taken had been at the far end of the rifle’s effective range, but he’d taken it and begun moving a second later. His entire body was tense, anger radiating through him at the idea they would dare try and touch Kathleen.
He didn’t wait to see if the shot would land on the brunette who had Kathleen pinned. He knew it would. He ran toward her, assessing threats as he went. Four Aides were still in play. Kathleen wasn’t wearing body armor. If the Agent failed, the Aides would have orders to capture or kill—and for Aides, killing was a far more expedient option. A single powerful blow took out the Aide positioned across the road as he lined up a shot, scarcely requiring Finn to stop as he advanced.
He arrived just as Kathleen downed the Aide beside the SUV with a well-placed blow to the man’s sternum. Finn heard the crack of gunfire, and he pressed into Kathleen, breathing in her scent. Immediate calm washed over him. Pain flared as several bullets slammed into the back of his uniform and one through his leg. He thought it might have hit bone because the pain lingered. It wasn’t even an inconvenience. Pain allowed greater focus.
Finn’s gaze dragged over Kathleen. Her top was bloodied, and her reddened throat brought a coldness, but it was assuaged by the fact that the brunette who had done it was already down.
“Finn!”
The tug of Kathleen’s hand barely registered; it wasn’t until she yelled at him to move that he let her drag them behind the shelter of the car door. He knew these vehicles, issued by Command, were solidly bulletproof. He heard the impacts, the window cracking but not shattering. They wouldn't have long at the current rate of fire, but it was long enough. He spun for the next nearest threat.
Keeping track of multiple targets, even when Finn didn’t have his eyes on them, was effortless, thanks to his training. He could hear Kathleen’s rapid heartbeat telling him she hadn’t moved from the cover of the SUV’s door, the rattle of gunfire down the street telling him precisely where the remaining Aides were.
For now, she was safe enough, but Finn needed to eliminate him.
The tall blond Agent with broad shoulders.
Finn recognized him mostly by reputation. The same man he had seen in the mess hall over a week ago. Apollo, they called him. But that wasn’t his real name, any more than the Hound was Finn’s name. Where the Hound brought fear, Apollo’s name brought admiration; he was supposedly a gifted tactician and leader.
Physically, they were evenly matched, although Apollo had a slight advantage in height. If Finn had fought him before, he couldn’t recall, but as he closed, Finn let instinct take over. He drew his Ka-Bar and stabbed low, aiming to get under the protective weave of the other Agent’s uniform.
Apollo countered with a side-swipe of his arm that took the brunt of the blow and knocked it to one side, missing his body by inches.
Barely a heartbeat later, Finn was fending off a counter-attack as Apollo’s other hand sliced up toward his jaw. Finn jerked his head just enough, but he still felt a sear as the knife cut lightly along his cheek. He reversed the knife and slammed it toward Apollo’s wrist, the blow landing solidly. With anyone else, it would have been enough to break his wrist and make him lose his weapon. With another Agent, it was merely a trade-off.
Both of them were highly skilled and exceptionally fast. They feinted and struck, countered and parried with hands, arms, and knives. The longer they fought, the more familiar it felt. While Finn knew he couldn’t afford to let Apollo live—not when his mission was to take Kathleen—the kinship he felt with this man was unsettling.
Finn struck a successful stab to Apollo’s leg—not deep, thanks to the blond’s quick movements—when he heard three spaced shots behind him. Not the rattle of the pair of Aide’s rifles, so it had to be Kathleen. Seconds later, silence descended, the rifle fire finally ceasing.
It was a tingle, an awareness that became a sixth sense more than anything. A weapon pointed in his direction. The last thing Finn should do in this situation was to take his eyes off the most dangerous threat—Apollo—but something compelled him to. It was an opening Apollo could have easily taken advantage of, but the other agent stopped when Finn did.
Out of his peripheral vision, Finn saw her. Kathleen, standing with her legs wide, both hands bracing her gun, pointing it not at him but at Apollo.
“No!” Finn said sharply.
The emotion came from nowhere he could name, yet it felt as real as anything he had ever experienced. He didn’t want to kill Apollo any more than he wanted Kathleen to come to harm. A simple sidestep put him in her firing line as his eyes fixed on Apollo’s—blue, like Finn’s.
“No,” he repeated, inaudible to everyone except the other Agent.
Apollo froze, gaze locking with Finn’s. The blond’s eyes narrowed, but not with any animosity. He was trying to place the other Agent. His brow creased, mouth parting and shutting without revelation.
Finn backed toward Kathleen, extending his hand out to her wrist. He could feel the tension in her muscles as he forced her gun down. He didn’t—couldn’t—spare a look for her, but none of the tension in her wrist eased.
For three seconds, Apollo stared at Finn. The blond’s jaw shifted, something complex passing over his features.
Finn recognized the intensity though he wasn’t intuitive enough to comprehend the emotion; just that it was the reaction an Agent of Command wasn’t allowed to have.
“Hound,” Apollo said. With that, he turned on a heel and stalked toward the fallen brunette.
Finn sensed a faint heartbeat as the blond Agent stooped to sling the woman over his shoulder before loping down the street.
The whole time, Finn kept his gaze on the threat, tracking Apollo visually and audibly.
He didn’t realize Kathleen was trying to break his grip on her wrist until she growled, “Finn.”
He finally looked her way, drinking her in. He had forgotten nothing in the time they were apart, but it still felt like seeing her all over again. Her green eyes blazed with anger, and adrenaline pumped with the fast beat of her heart. Most of her dark brown hair was pulled back into a bun, though some longer, wispy strands had been pulled free, and he longed to release all of it. Her lips were pressed together. He wondered how readily they would part for his tongue when he touched his lips to hers. Finn leaned toward her.
Kathleen straightened and jerked backward, visibly irate, sensing his intent to get closer. “You disappear on me for almost a week without a word. I don’t know if you’re dead or alive. And that’s how you want to explain yourself?”
Finn was never good with words. How could he explain it? Make her understand that Command was inevitable, no matter what they wanted? That he would give up everything for her.
That he didn’t deserve this.
That he didn’t deserve her.
That he was just a weapon.
“They were going to take you if I didn’t go with them,” Finn said. “Take you and reprogram you. Take away your name. I couldn’t have that. I couldn’t live with the idea that you wouldn’t exist in the world anymore.”
Kathleen’s lips parted, color touching her cheeks. Her heartbeat was still exceptionally fast, but he couldn’t interpret what that meant, only that there was no fear in her.
Her jaw worked for a moment, but her voice was softer when she said, “We need to get out of here. You’re bleeding, and I need to patch you up. My place—”
“No,” Finn said. “It won’t be safe. The Handler sent Apollo for you. If he returns without you, there will be others. I have a safe house near here.” He turned on a heel and stalked down the street, trusting she would follow. It wasn’t safe for him to touch her again.
He might never let her go.