Mission: Her Defense: Team 52 #4

by Hackett, Anna

  His hands flexed on the wheel again. “We need to focus on finding the other two swords.” He shook his head. “How can a damn sword do so much damage? I don’t fucking believe in magic.”

  “It’s not magic, MacKade. Just good old science and some poor human decisions.” She turned to look at him. “This is my job. I do whatever I have to in order to stop these artifacts hurting people.”

  “And you usually leave a trail of destruction behind you.”

  Her eyes fired. “That destruction would be far worse if Team 52 didn’t do what we do. You got a taste of that tonight.”

  “You guys are mavericks.”

  She made an enraged noise. “I don’t have the luxury of a slow, careful approach, Detective.”

  “Being careful and considered doesn’t mean slow, Mason.”

  “Sometimes I only have seconds to make life and death decisions.” She crossed her arms. “I won’t apologize for doing what I have to do in order to save lives.”

  The car filled with a tense silence, and finally they reached headquarters. Years back, the LVMPD had brought together a bunch of bureaus and built the new facility. Three multi-story buildings formed a U shape around a parking lot lined with palm trees. The Homicide Section had a space on one of the floors of the main building.

  Luke pulled into a parking spot, and by the time he got out of the SUV, Blair was out and glaring at him.

  “If we hadn’t contained the man tonight, he might have torn through the entire Spire Casino,” Blair said.

  He stalked up to her. Shit. He saw her point. But dammit, he followed the rules, enforced the law, and more often than not, Blair and her team rode right over the rules. “I know that.”

  Their bodies brushed and he felt the electric shock of it rush through him. He saw her jolt as well, her eyes narrowing.

  “I just wish you put some effort into containing the bodies and the chaos when you take down the bad guys.”

  She made an angry sound. Her arm flashed out, her elbow catching him in the gut.

  He grunted and when her hand shot out again, he grabbed her. In a fast move, he spun her and rammed her front against the side of his car. He twisted her arm up behind her back.

  With another furious sound, she tried to fight him, but Luke crowded her with his body, his chest flush against her back. He kept her pinned, because he knew exactly what damage she could do if she was loose.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured against the back of her neck.

  She snorted. “Like you could.”

  “I know you have badass running through your veins, but we both know I could.”

  She jerked against him.

  Damn, she smelled good. He breathed in the skin of her neck. Not a perfume, but something she rubbed on her skin. “Now, we need to make enough peace to work together.”

  “I’ll work with you. I want those damn swords found.”

  “Good. Now, admit I have you trapped.”

  She stiffened. “Bite me.”

  “I’m starting to think we might both enjoy that.”

  She stiffened even more. “You get hit in the head when I wasn’t looking, MacKade?”

  Luke felt his control slipping. Hell, all Blair Mason had to do was breathe and his control was in shreds. In answer, he raked his teeth down the side of her neck.

  She arched back, her toned ass rubbing against his hardening cock. She made a choked sound, just shy of a groan.

  “You going to behave now?” he asked.

  “Let me go, or I’ll break your leg.”

  Her threat made him harder. Shit, he needed his head examined.

  He stepped back. When her fist flashed out, he was ready, blocking her blow.

  Blair stepped back, avoiding his gaze. “We have some swords to find, so if you’re done fucking around…”

  She swiveled and stomped toward the glass front of the station.

  No, he wasn’t done with her. Not by a long shot.

  Inside, rows of chairs filled the waiting area in front of the large windows, where people could come to report and follow up on crimes. Even this early in the morning, it was pretty busy. They passed two khaki-clad uniforms hauling a cuffed man wearing a Hawaiian shirt between them. His greasy hair fell over his face and dark circles underscored his eyes.

  “I don’t want no trouble.” The man twisted and jerked. “I just want to play my slot machines.”

  “Yeah, Harry, we know,” one uniform murmured.

  “Gonna hit it big on the next one. I know it.”

  “Quiet—”

  The cuffed man jerked free and, with a violent shove, sent one officer tumbling over some chairs. Screams broke out and Luke cursed.

  The escapee barreled through some people, moving past Blair. Her foot flashed out. With a shout, the man fell to his knees, and Blair used her palm of her hand to slam his face into an empty chair.

  The man howled and blood dripped from his nose.

  “I think you broke his nose,” Luke said.

  “Oops. I didn’t mean to.”

  Hawaiian-shirt man was tenacious though, and jumped to his feet. “You bitch!” He lowered his head and charged at Blair.

  She sidestepped and landed a hard chop to his arm. Luke heard the bone snap.

  With another howl, the man fell back into an empty chair, cradling his arm.

  Blair smiled darkly. “I meant that.”

  Luke shook his head just as the officers arrived.

  “Sorry,” the older officer said. “Thanks for the help.”

  “I think he’s going to need medical attention,” Luke said.

  The younger officer was eyeing Blair cautiously.

  Shaking his head again, Luke led Blair to the elevators, and they stepped inside. Soon, they entered the Homicide Section. Lieutenant Bailey ran the section, and Luke liked his boss. The man was a seasoned detective, and knew Vegas like the back of his hand. He had three groups of detectives who worked homicide.

  Luke stalked into the large room where his detectives had their desks set up. His team was there, along with the final detective on their team, Moretti. He felt the heavy pall in the air. Everyone was reeling at the lost of officers at the Spire.

  “Rivera, did you get all the security footage from the Spire?” Luke asked.

  The trim detective was the youngest member of their team. He stood, eyeing Blair. “Yeah, Luke.”

  “I want to view it. Find us a room.” Then Luke stopped and dragged in a breath. “The best way to honor those we’ve lost is to find those swords and whoever caused this.”

  His team nodded.

  “Blair Mason, Detectives Les Baxter, Ben Rivera, Gus Moretti, and Joanna Clements,” Luke said. “Everyone, this is Blair. She’s a military consultant who’ll be helping with the case.”

  “Military?” Baxter said.

  Blair smiled and crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah.”

  Baxter nodded. “I did a stint in the Marines out of high school.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Her smile widened. “I was a Marine, too.”

  Baxter smiled. “I was infantry. 6th Marine Regiment.”

  Blair sat on the edge of Luke’s desk and crossed her legs at the ankles. “Force Recon.”

  Baxter’s eyes bugged out of his head.

  “Yeah, Baxter,” Luke said. “She can kill you with her little finger.”

  Blair grinned. “Actually, I don’t need my pinky to do that.”

  “You should’ve seen her at the Spire, Moretti,” Clements said. “Sorry, Blair, but you scare the shit out of me.”

  Blair tilted her head. “I get that a lot.” She pointed at a box of donuts on Clements’ desk. “I am thrilled to see you’re living up to the police-donut cliché, because I’m starved.”

  Clements grinned and shoved the donuts toward Blair.

  Luke’s colleagues moved off to their desks, but his gaze stayed on Blair. He watched her inhale two glazed donuts, but his mind was still processing her ear
lier response. There’d been something flat in her voice when she’d responded to Clements.

  “Okay, Room Two is open, Luke,” Rivera called out. “Security footage ready for viewing.”

  Luke nodded. “Baxter, did you run that full check on our dead attacker? I want to know when he last went to the dentist, and what he liked to eat for breakfast.”

  “Yeah, got it.” The older detective held up a folder. “Still got info coming in, but I have to say, the man is boring with a capital B.”

  Baxter and Rivera headed for the conference room. Blair stood, and Luke took a second to lean in, keeping his voice low.

  “Just so you know, I’m not afraid of you, Blair.”

  She turned her head, the look on her face unreadable. “Maybe you aren’t as smart as I thought you were.”

  He smiled. “You think I’m smart?”

  Her nose wrinkled, and she moved to follow the others.

  Inside the small room, they all sat on uncomfortable chairs around the long table. Moretti and Clements joined them. They watched a screen attached to the wall and the security footage from the samurai exhibit filled the display. Luke fast-forwarded through the footage until the guests for the VIP viewing started filtering in.

  They saw the slender auditor enter and start wandering through the exhibit. He looked relaxed and interested. Just a man out for an enjoyable evening.

  “He’s just a guest,” Rivera said.

  Yeah, he didn’t look like he was there to steal swords or start a massacre. Luke flipped open the folder Baxter had handed him.

  “His name is Byron Fuller,” Baxter said. “He’s an auditor with a local financial firm. Born and raised in Vegas. No criminal record.”

  They kept watching, and then Luke spotted a figure in black enter the room. The man was very tall, wide-shouldered, and wore a hood that obscured his face. Luke straightened.

  “Hel-lo,” Blair murmured.

  They watched as the man headed straight towards the katana display at the end of the room. While no one was watching, he stepped closer and lifted the top sword off the rack.

  “He knows where the cameras are,” Blair said. “He’s not giving us a look at his face.”

  “And he went straight to those swords,” Luke said.

  All of a sudden, one of the guests turned around, spotted the man, and pointed. Several more guests turned, and Byron Fuller stepped forward. The leaner man was frowning as he confronted the thief.

  Even without sound, it was clear to see Byron was arguing with the hooded figure. Then Byron reached out and grabbed the sword.

  And Luke watched as Byron jolted, the man’s hands flexing on the hilt of the katana.

  “Oh, hell,” Blair murmured.

  The room was silent as they watched the horror unfold. Byron Fuller turned, raised the katana, and exploded into some sort of berserker rage. His face twisted into a terrible mask as he tore through the guests.

  Luke heard his detectives pull in shocked breaths. He sat there, every muscle in his body strung tight, as they watched the bloodbath. Fuller didn’t hesitate with any stroke of the sword.

  A shuddering breath escaped Luke. Dammit to hell.

  “If we want to find the swords, we have to find the man in the hood,” Blair said.

  She hadn’t watched the massacre. Instead, she’d been watching the man in black. Luke saw the man as he disappeared behind some exhibits, with two katanas in his arms.

  “He set that up.” Blair crossed her arms over her chest. “He let Fuller take the sword, and used him as a distraction.”

  Baxter frowned. “But why did Fuller attack—?”

  Luke lifted a hand and rubbed his tired eyes. “All right, I want everyone running searches. Baxter, contact local antiquities dealers. Rivera, see if our tech guys can enhance the video at all to get any part of the hooded figure’s face, or catch a reflection in those glass display cases. I want to know who the hell he is. Clements, see if the crime scene team picked up anything from the scene. Moretti, keep digging into Fuller’s life, just in case he was in on this. See if anything pops. But we’ve all had a long night, so for now, everyone grab a couple of hours’ sleep. I need everybody fresh.”

  He saw Baxter scowl. Luke knew his team. Knew they were all eager to find justice for the dead. But if they were running on fumes, they could make mistakes. He watched them reluctantly file out.

  Blair was leaning against the table. “Anywhere to grab some food around here? I want to—”

  “You too, Blair.”

  Her mouth opened, then closed. “You want me to sleep? While some fucker is out there with two dangerous swords?”

  “I need you sharp.”

  “MacKade, on some missions I don’t sleep for days—”

  “Not this one. I won’t tolerate mistakes that might mean we miss our chance to nail this guy.”

  She moved closer, her boots brushing his. Her bi-colored eyes narrowed. “I can’t rest knowing more innocent people could die any second! It’s my job to stop this.”

  “After you sleep for a few hours.” This close, he could see the exhaustion on her stubborn face.

  “No. I refuse to be too late to stop the next massacre. And mark my words, MacKade, this isn’t over.” Her words were fueled by emotion.

  “I know, Blair, I know.” He watched her face. There was something else behind her outburst, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Whatever was driving her, he didn’t want anyone else hurt, and that included Blair “Badass” Mason. Not that he was telling her that he was looking out for her. She’d probably punch him. “We can’t risk you not moving fast enough next time we face him.”

  She blew out a breath. “Fuck.” She threw her hands in the air. “This is bullshit. Do you want more people to die?”

  “No. Why are you getting so fired up about this? You know you’re tired. It’s just a few hours.”

  She froze, and he saw something working behind her eyes. Pain. He was a detective, trained to notice the tiniest nuances on a person’s face. Old pain echoed in her eyes.

  She hid it. “Fine. A couple of hours, and that’s it.”

  Oh, the detective in him wanted to know what answers she was hiding. The man in him wanted to know what drove her.

  Damn. Now wasn’t the time. Untangling all of Blair Mason’s layers would require weeks, and maybe a chainsaw. Time to refocus. “How long before Ty has any information on the sword?”

  Blair shrugged. “Could be fast or slow, you never know.”

  “Brief me when you know.”

  She pulled a face. “Yes, sir.”

  They walked out of headquarters together. “You need a lift?”

  Blair shook her head and pointed.

  A sleek, sporty motorcycle in fire-engine red was parked near his Explorer.

  “I had Axel drop it off.” She swung a long leg over the bike and pulled on a black helmet. “I’ll see you in a few hours, MacKade. Don’t spend too much time getting your beauty sleep.”

  Luke shoved his hands on his hips and watched Blair tear off. She drove him crazy, but Luke was coming to realize one important thing.

  He wanted Blair Mason more than he’d wanted any woman in a very long time. He’d tried denying it, ignoring it, but it wasn’t going away.

  And very soon, he was going to do something about it.

  Chapter Three

  Blair pulled her red Ford Mustang up in front of the LVMPD headquarters. A moment later, MacKade pushed out of the front doors, his long legs eating up the distance to her car.

  He wore a battered, brown leather jacket over a blue shirt, and his handgun was holstered on one hip, his badge on the other.

  Untamed, masculine power. She sniffed, annoyed at her response. She’d felt that hard, muscled body pressed up against her when they’d had their little scuffle at his car. MacKade was built, she’d give him that.

  She’d grabbed a few hours of sleep, and she had no intention of telling the annoying man that she
felt refreshed.

  He yanked open the passenger-side door. “What happened to the Ducati?”

  She grinned at him. “I didn’t think you’d be happy sitting on the back of my bike.”

  He snorted and slammed the door. “You got some rest?”

  “A couple of hours. You?”

  “I grabbed some at the station.”

  Right. So, he made everyone else get some good rest, but not himself. Blair pulled out into traffic.

  “You called me and said you’d pick me up,” he said. “So where are we going?”

  “We’re headed to the Bunker. Ty has some information for us. But first, I need coffee.”

  She stopped at a small coffee place near the airport and ordered a huge black coffee for herself. “What’s your poison?”

  “Black coffee as well, but you know, regular size.”

  She handed his smaller takeout cup to him, then took a huge gulp from hers. Ah. Heaven.

  “Why don’t you just set up an IV?” he asked.

  Blair smiled. “Good idea.”

  When she pulled back onto the road, his cologne seemed to fill the entire car. The man was annoying and self-righteous, but he smelled good. She tried to breathe shallowly so his crisp woodsy scent didn’t work its way into her senses.

  Not working. She grabbed her coffee, sipped, and burned her lip.

  “How are your stitches today?” he asked.

  “Fine. There are only three of them…anything less than ten doesn’t count.”

  He stared at her for a beat before he shook his head and lifted his coffee.

  Soon, they approached a rear security gate at McCarran Airport. She showed her ID to the guards, and drove toward the Bunker.

  Team 52’s Las Vegas base of operations was an ugly block of concrete in a quiet corner of the airport. There was a small hangar attached, where Team 52 kept their experimental jet-copter when they came in from Area 52. It was also where their logistics manager organized things for them when they were in Las Vegas.

  Blair climbed out of the vehicle and headed inside, MacKade close on her heels.

  “Blair.” The pretty blonde sitting at the front desk bounded to her feet, a wide, gorgeous smile on her face.