by Adriana Noir
Gunshots erupted, peppering the air behind her. She could hear the metallic ping of the bullets as they buried into her surroundings. Searing fire lanced her arm, wringing a startled cry from her throat, but she didn’t dare stop moving to check it. She cried, praying as she groped her way blindly along the wall and the gunshots kept coming. They were growing closer now and shouting.
“Don’t let her get away!”
Her fingertips searched desperately, feeling for handles or seams. She could hear the men closing in on her.
Then she found it.
Freedom.
Yanking the door open, she scrambled like mad, sobbing hysterically as she wound her way through the field of fire and debris. It was a warzone. Scorched earth, twisted chunks of metal, and smoldering flames stretched as far as the eye could see, all while the menacing forms of helicopters closed in overhead.
Head left and don’t look back.
The words echoed in her memory. All she could see was vast desert looming on the other side of the wreckage. The stubby cacti and open ground wouldn’t afford her any place to hide, but that ghostly voice from last night hadn’t led her astray so far. As of now, its guidance was the only hope she had.
~*~*~*~
Sebastian hopped out of the Apache as it finished settling, his team right behind him. He paused, scanning the wreckage, his eyes narrowed against the swirling storm of dust still churning in the air. They’d spent the better part of the morning carrying out the attacks. The squat complex that had served as SKALS headquarters was now nothing more than a smoldering pile of rubble and ash. They’d leveled every black site, every hide out Marx had. All except for one. The one where he knew the son-of-a-bitch was hiding. Straightening his uniform, he glanced over his shoulder and signaled for Jackson.
The young man was at his side in an instant. Soot and sand clung to his light brown skin, but it was hard to miss the excited flush of adrenaline staining his cheeks. His smoky grey eyes boasted hints of determination and pride.
“I wasn’t too sure about you in the beginning,” Sebastian admitted once the rotating blades of the helicopter died.
“I know that, sir.”
He nodded. “You’re a good man, Jackson. Are you ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Vincent finished jamming a fresh clip of ammo into his rifle and tipped his chin in their direction. “Locked and loaded, boys. Let’s do this.”
It was a small group, only ten men, but it was all he needed. Most of Marx’s cockroaches had ran scuttling for the hills hours ago. Only the staunchest and most loyal would have remained, leaving Sebastian no doubt he was about to go head-to-head with the very same men he used to lead. He didn’t know if he would feel any pleasure putting them down. This was a mission and he only had one objective in mind—capturing Marx and making that sick, delusional bastard pay.
They split into two teams, flanking the modified oilrig and surrounding the perimeter. The silence and stillness was eerie and not at all what he’d expected. He would have bet money they would have landed under heavy fire, but there were no gunshots, no movements, nothing. Just the faint, sweltering desert breeze.
Pressing against the side of the building, he caught Vincent’s eye and gestured toward the front door. Nodding, the other man motioned the front end of his team forward, giving them the go ahead. They charged, ramming full force into the door with a heavy blow of the battering ram. The sound of crunching metal sounded around them as the barrier buckled and caved. Two flashbangs, one from him and one from Vince quickly followed suit.
They flooded inside, pressing close to the walls, keeping their rifles raised and trained. The thin red lines from the laser scopes filtered through the swirling air. It was hard to get a read on much of anything through the thick haze, but they didn’t have to wait long. Without warning, a heavy hail of gunfire rained down on them from overhead.
Shouting erupted among his team as the men returned fire. They took two out with the first assault, and he watched in grim satisfaction as the broken bodies tumbled over the railing to slam against the solid concrete below. Another round of gunshots retorted to their right, drawing his attention. Sparks flew as the bullets struck beside him, embedding mere centimeters from his head. The noise left his ears ringing, but finger still curled around the trigger, Sebastian opened fire and gave chase.
Men yelled at each other from both sides and he listened, trying to decipher the voices in the din. Somewhere in the distance, he heard Marx frantically shouting orders. The deep, booming sound of the man’s voice flooded him with renewed determination and hate. Bullets flew in every direction, some of them coming close enough to rip his uniform and rock his body armor as he pounded down the winding set of stairs. Coming across a fallen corpse, he refused to lose speed. Slinging his rifle back over his shoulder, Sebastian braced his hands on top of the rail and levered his body over the edge.
He landed hard on his feet below. The shocks carried through his soles clear up to his knees. Momentum and pain carried him forward, forcing him to brace himself with his hands. That brief slipup cost him dearly. A hard knee to the side of his head sent both him and rifle sprawling. Shaking the clouds from his vision, he sprung to his feet.
Marx stood poised, thighs braced apart, taking aim with his pistol. He barely moved his head away in time. Light detonated before his eyes and a deafening thunder preceded the loud whine that followed in his ears. Roaring, he barreled toward the director. His shoulder made contact first, slamming into the man’s midsection and drawing a winded grunt. The pistol fell, spiraling across the floor.
Seizing the back of his collar, Marx spun him, nearly lifting him off the ground before slamming him into the wall. They locked, arms grappling. Sebastian pummeled his side, driving a rapid succession of blows into the man’s ribs. Marx fought for leverage, splaying his mammoth hand against Sebastian’s head, pushing him back. Swinging wide, the director clobbered him with an uppercut that hit hard enough to rock him off his feet. Another blow sent him crashing to the ground.
Sebastian’s vision swam. Shaking his head, he spit out a mouthful of blood and started to push to his feet. He froze feeling the broad width of a pistol jam against his temple, holding him in place.
“Hello, Baas.”
His smile lacked humor as he lowered his chin to his chest. “Hello Josh.”
“Don’t let him up.”
Again, he smiled, hearing Marx’s voice. Seven years of blood, sweat, and tears down the drain. Weeks of hunting for Taylor, only to lose all shreds of hope. He’d pushed on, pushed forward, determined to have his revenge and it all boiled down to this. He was caught, trapped like an animal, while his former partner held a gun to his head.
He startled when the harsh static of his radio broke the silence, jerking him from his thoughts.
“This is Alpha Tango Charlie. We have her, Sebastian. We have Taylor.”
He closed his eyes, his chest straining against his vest with a mute jerk of relief. He could still hear the gunfire as his men engaged in the battle overhead.
“It’s bad, but she’s alive. We’re taking her in.”
The heaviness in his chest was unbearable. He wanted nothing more than to go to her—to hold her tight, to feel her body against his, to kiss her and breathe her smell one more time. Dear God had he missed her. His heart broke as he thought about their baby and how he would never get to see or hold their child. He would never have the chance to be a father or atone for all of the things he had done.
Marx snorted, wresting him from his painful reverie.
“How touching. I want you to look at me, Sebastian. Look me in the face and tell me if this is how you saw it all ending. I want to watch the life fade from your eyes when your partner puts the damn bullet in your head.”
He glanced up. Josh merely shrugged, his finger closing in on the trigger.
“Yeah…about that…” he said, swinging wide and without warning. “That’s not going t
o happen today.
Marx’s eyes flared. He lifted his arm, but Josh fired first, blowing the pistol from his hand. Marx bellowed, nearly dropping to his knees as he clutched at his wrist. A dangling cord of tendon was the only thing keeping it in place. Still keeping his gun trained on the director, Josh kicked the battered weapon away.
“It’s your move, Baas.”
He stared at his partner in disbelief.
“What? Did I or did I not tell you that I would always have your back?” Josh asked, shooting him a reproachful look.
“You turned on me…”
“No, Baas. I didn’t. I overheard this fucker planning things. I knew what he was up to all along. I also knew I had to switch sides if you were ever going to have a chance of finding Taylor if things did go south. That’s why I was at the restaurant that day. I was trying to warn you, but it was too late.” Kicking the side of Marx’s leg, he brought him the rest of the way to the ground and spit in his face. “I’m sorry about not being there through the funeral and shit, but it had to be convincing. Damn good thing too, because he finally did lead me to her last night.”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his anger rising as he pushed to his feet.
“Would you have answered if I’d called?”
He had no response for that. Josh shrugged.
“It’s not as if I got a memo saying you were about to launch an airstrike you crazy fuck. Look none of that matters. I unlocked her. She got out. She’s alive. We’re taking this bastard down. Now just do whatever the hell it is you’re going to do so we can go home.”
He snorted. It didn’t fix things between them, but it was a good start.
“Go ahead, Sebastian. Pull the trigger,” Marx coaxed. “This is what you’ve been waiting for.”
Smiling, he crouched down in front of the man and patted his cheek. “No, Marx. It isn’t. Not yet.”
A short while later, his team had rounded up the rest of the men and prepared them for transport. He didn’t know what the Feds would do with them and he didn’t care. Instead, he stared down at Marx while Josh tested the strength of the chains one last time. The rich smell of gasoline hung heavily in the air. A wide grin crept across his face, showcasing his dimples as he shook out the rest of the container, making Marx cough and sputter.
“Hey! Watch that shit, would ya?” Josh asked, jerking back with a scowl.
Marx peered up at him, his eyes bloodshot and bulging.
“Just shoot me, Sebastian. Please…”
He cocked his head, his smile stretching tight across his face. “No mercy, no compassion. That’s your motto, Marx. Time to live by it. Do you remember all of the times you used to tell me one day we would end up on opposite sides of a loaded gun? Today is the day and you lost.”
“Don’t do this. Don’t you fucking do this!”
“Such foul language,” he chided with a soft click of his tongue. “I warned you not to touch Taylor. I told you I would burn your entire empire to the ground, and that is exactly what I am going to do.” He leaned closer and ruffled the top of the commander’s head with mock affection. “And when it’s all said and done I’m going to dance on the ashes. See you in hell,” he whispered.
Standing, he walked toward the door. Taking Vincent’s Zippo, he flicked it open and tossed it at Marx’s feet. A forceful whoosh filled the room, blowing back a blast of heat as the commander ignited in a fiery ball of flames. Sebastian could feel their hellish reflections dancing in his eyes as he looked on, watching the man thrash wildly against his chains. He’d waited a long time for this moment and he truly did cherish the anguished screams that barreled through the building.
It was a fitting end, and the one he had promised.
The director eventually grew silent and stilled, his body slumping. Feeling a nudge, Sebastian ripped his gaze away from the bright, smoldering glow of Marx’s remains. His partner’s face was a reflection of relief and understanding as he wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
“Come on, buddy. It’s over now. Time to go home.”
~EPILOGUE~
It was a new dawn, a new era to their lives. Leaning over the railing, Taylor smiled as the warm summer breeze lifted her hair and made the leaves rustle on the trees. Bright splashes of color lined the flowerbeds, adding festivity and cheer. She breathed deep pulling the smell of charring meat into her lungs and the crisp scent of mountain pine. A delighted squeal drew her attention and she glanced down just in time to see Sebastian tossing their son into the air.
Xander was nine months old now and a spitting image of his father, right down the cutest set of dimples she had ever seen. His rich golden curls shimmered in the late summer sun, and his big green eyes sparkled as he laughed and squealed in Sebastian’s grasp.
Sensing her attention, he turned and pointed up at the deck while murmuring something in their son’s ear. A few seconds later, they both smiled up at her and waved, the sight of them making her heart melt.
A shill screech drew her attention away and she laughed watching Mia dart across the yard, her long blonde curls and frilly blue dress bouncing behind her. Aiden gave chase, feeding into her play-induced panic until Josh snatched the little girl up and swung her onto the wide perch of his shoulder. Shaking her head at the three of them, Monique fought a smile and stroked a hand over the swell of her belly, her wedding ring glinting beneath the sun. In three more months, the Reevers family would grow and they would have another little boy to dote on and love.
It had been a long road to recovery for all of them. It hadn’t been easy, but they’d made it and it was worth every single bit of the fight to survive and rebuild their fractured relationships. They were a family now. All of them.
Scanning the yard, she searched the sea of faces gathered below until she found her mother and father. The newly reunited pair were seated together beneath the shade of the patio umbrella their heads close together as they laughed and shared a drink. Vincent and Jackson hurled a football back and forth, trying to be mindful of the little ones that kept darting underfoot. Standing over the grill, Rupert manned the thick slabs of steak, laughing and tossing back a beer as he chatted up some of the other men.
Much like Sebastian and Josh’s friendship, SKALS had been rebuilt from the ground up. Brick by brick, one painstaking layer at a time, they had pieced back together and strengthened the organization and partnership they had once loved. No one person called the shots. They worked together, side-by-side, as a team. It was a process filled with trial and error, but they were learning as they went and the rest of the men seemed happier for it. As long as they did their job and didn’t falter, they were free to live their lives as they pleased.
Smiling, she remembered the private, but intimate affair she’d had with her husband. It hadn’t been Hawaii, but as soon as she was well enough to travel, they’d made the trip to the California coast and exchanged their vows surrounded by tiki torches and the basking, golden glow of the sun. He father had been there to escort her and Sebastian had gotten his wish. They were married before their son was born and Xander carried his name.
She turned at the sudden rush of warm breath caressing her ear. Groaning softly, Sebastian wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed his way up the side of her neck as he swayed her against him.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Mrs. Baas?”
“Very much so. It’s a beautiful day, Sebastian. A beautiful life. We’re so lucky.”
“That we are darling.” He buried his nose in her hair and breathed deeply. “Speaking of, Xander told me something that would make our lives even more beautiful today.”
“Oh?” she asked, turning in his arms.
He smiled down at her, his sage eyes dancing with mischief and desire. “Mmmhmm. He said it’s high time we started working on giving him a little brother or sister to play with.”
Laughing, she leaned up and scrunched her nose before settling her forehead against his. “I find that strange, conside
ring our son barely says more than Mama and DaDa.”
“We have a special way of communicating,” Sebastian insisted, his voice a husky murmur. Turning her head, he kissed the line of her jaw before nibbling her earlobe. “I want an answer, Taylor. Quit making me wait.”
His menacing growl filled her with a delighted shiver. Swinging her gaze up to his, she traced the indents on his cheeks. “Whatever makes you happy, Sebby.”
“Mmm. Good answer, darling. You just wait until everyone leaves. I’m going to make you come so hard your legs shake.”
He trailed his hands over the gentle curve of her hips, tugging her closer so she could feel the effect their conversation was having. There was no denying the hard bulge grinding against her, or the intensity brewing in his pale green eyes. They assured her he intended to keep every word of his promise and then some.
She shook her head with a rueful smile.
He was sexy, dangerous and full of surprises, but he loved hard. That much was constant. When it came to love, Sebastian was an all-consuming inferno that devoured everything in his wake. He was a powerful flame that never faltered and never died.
Life was an unpredictable journey, but some things never changed.
Author Info~
Adriana Noir is an avid fan of dark fiction, taboo subjects, and tortured anti-heroes. She also tends to write about these things. Most of the time she can be found plugging away at the computer, guzzling coffee and energy drinks, or mumbling to herself as she sorts out the twisted plots and character conversations in her head. She's also been known to binge read or slip into Netflix comas whenever time allows. Tim Tams and red licorice are her kryptonite. She's also mildly obsessed with the Cheshire Cat. When Adriana isn't reading or writing, she's usually sharpening her knives…err…culinary skills. Feel free to get in touch!
Find out more about any upcoming projects or releases at www.adriananoir.com For teasers, first looks, contests, and giveaways please join her official page on Facebook. Or friend her for her hijinks. She’s also (sometimes) on Twitter and Goodreads.
