SIXTEEN #2
Her boots echoed off the concrete, every step a thudding ache. She’d signed up for this. The danger, the uncertainty. Agents lost their lives on the job and that could be her too. But she’d taken an oath and refused to break her word.
She thought of Phillip, not with grief exactly, but more of a reminder of the cost this job sometimes demanded. He’d known the risk too. Everyone in this line of work did. If he could see her now, he’d understand why she kept walking toward it instead of away.
She found the Sierra team assembled near the tunnel exit, all stacked muscle and broad chests in tactical gear with smudges of face paint on their faces.
Then Rome stepped aside and the sight of Reid in full gear stopped her cold.
He looked like a stranger yet exactly like himself at once. His vest was strapped tight over his chest, his jaw set in a hard line she recognized from the war room, only then his malice hadn’t been aimed at an actual target.
He was terrifying and beautiful and he broke her heart.
Their gazes locked, and the commotion of the team checking comms and running final checks around them vanished.
For five long heartbeats, they stared at each other, unmoving.
Then one of the guys laughed with a carefree manner only men who faced real danger knew how to embrace, and the spell was broken.
She looked around the group and her chest squeezed for another reason that had nothing to do with losing the man she loved all over again.
In a short time, these men had become more than just colleagues on an assignment.
Between shared meals and private jokes they let her in on, they’d become her friends.
Family, even. God help her.
Reid crossed to her and held out a comms unit. “Let me get you set up.”
She turned, lifting her ponytail off her neck, and felt his fingers brush the shell of her ear as he fitted the earpiece into place. His warm touch lingered longer than required, thumb grazing the curve of her jaw before he pulled back.
“How’s that feel?” His voice was low and rough, giving her the sensation they were alone instead of surrounded by special operators prepared to give their lives to secure this warehouse.
“Good.” Her voice was an unsteady shiver.
He clipped the small transmitter to her vest, fingers working at the strap near her collarbone and letting one fingertip settle over the pulse in her throat. Her breath caught and she almost lost it.
“You’ll hear everything we say once we’re inside.”
“Understood.”
“No matter what happens to the rest of us, you look out for yourself, Ryss. Got it? I need to know you’re safe.”
She nodded hard to cover the tightness in her throat.
“I still don’t like this,” he said quietly.
She didn’t respond because there was nothing to say.
She checked her own gear, running her hands over her vest to make sure it was snug and pulling on her FBI windbreaker.
She clipped her badge to it, then drew her sidearm and checked the magazine out of habit even though she already knew the count.
Full. She’d loaded it herself an hour ago, hands steadier than the rest of her had been.
“You good?” Reid asked, watching her run through the motions.
“I’m good.” She holstered the weapon. “Ready.”
He studied her a moment longer as if he was trying to memorize this version of her—armored, armed and steady despite everything roiling underneath.
“You look like you belong out here. I hate that. And I mean that as a compliment.”
She almost laughed. “I’ll take it.”
If she looked up, she’d see that glimmer of pride in his eyes, but she couldn’t bear to. Without more tasks to keep her mind off what was to come, she tapped into the energy in the room as they waited for the command to roll out.
The team finished their own final checks with a practiced rhythm. Rorke tapped his weapon twice in some private ritual. Rome and Younger exchanged a low joke that had their mouths twitching but neither laughed at it.
Reid inched closer to her. His shoulder brushed hers when either one of them shifted their weight, but they didn’t close the distance the way they both wanted to.
At the head of the group, Cannon turned to face them all. “Standard rules apply. Nobody dies, nobody gets shot in a place that ruins a good pair of pants, and if anybody finds snacks in that warehouse, they’re getting shared.” He looked around. “That last one’s non-negotiable.”
Laughter rippled through the group as some of the tension broke.
Cannon’s voice dropped into a more serious cadence. “Watch each other. That’s the whole plan. You watch each other, and you come back.” His gaze landed briefly on Caryssa, then moved on before it could turn into anything sentimental. “All of you.”
“Copy that,” Reid said, the rest of the team echoing it in overlapping murmurs.
Then they were moving, gear rattling with every stride they took. Caryssa fell into step beside Reid, and for one last moment before the dark tunnel swallowed them, his hand found hers—the squeeze quick and fierce and gone as fast as it came.
“Stay close to me in there,” he said, low.
“I will.” She didn’t tell him there was no place else she wanted to be.
They emerged from the tunnel, and she got a blast of cold air on her face before she was directed into a truck. They rolled into the night, toward whatever waited at the end of this.
Including the ending she and Reid saw coming, but neither of them were ready to face.