by J. M. Madden
“Damon must have been angry with you,” Aiden murmured, referring to the owner of the Silverstone Collaborative.
There was no response other than a glittering in her eyes as she sliced the stiletto across Wulfe’s throat.
Aiden lunged toward her but the mercenary holding Angela dragged her by the hair across to Priscilla. Wulfe gasped in air and lifted a hand to his throat. Aiden clenched his fists in fury, horror flowing through him.
There was a puddle spreading beneath Wulfe’s body and Aiden ached to go to him, but Priscilla held the upper hand right this second. Wulfe curled over on himself.
Angry tears rolled down Angela’s cheeks. “You’re a fucking bitch.”
“Mm, yes, darling.” Priscilla stepped carefully over Wulfe’s body, being mindful to keep her dark heels out of the blood. “It was a shame because he was a decent beast. I’d looked forward to playing with him more.”
Aiden tensed as she stopped on the other side of the mercenaries between them. They separated a little to let her see, but still be in a position to protect her. “Now,” she said, planting her hands on her hips. “Wulfe brought you a drive. It is not currently on his person, so I assume he gave it to you. Why don’t you hand to over like a civilized human being?”
Putting as much disgust and finesse into his voice as he could, Aiden smiled at her. “You need to put that stiletto through your brain.”
Her hand lifted and she looked at the weapon in her hand. “We both know that’s not going to happen, don’t we? The idea itself is marvelous, though.”
With a wave of her hand she had the merc holding Angela bring her forward. Angela cried out at the ruthless grip on her hair and Aiden strained to go to her, but Fontana gave him a pointed look.
She’s hurt but she’s playing it up, too, Will. Look at her.
Aiden looked at Angela. Yes, she was definitely in pain but he’d never heard her cry out like that, even when she was fighting the other merc. She wasn’t one to make helpless noises, but if it would make the Collaborative think she was weak, then she would use it. Even now the merc held her by the hair, but the knife arm had drifted down for balance as he moved her.
I see. He sent Fontana an impression of them rushing the mercenaries, praying that Angela could hold her own with her aggressor while they took care of the two in front of them.
Distraction time, Fontana. Now!
Aiden drew in a long breath and focused his attention inside. Raw emotion made his output stronger, so he thought about every shitty thing that had ever happened to him, and focused on the entirely too put-together woman in front of him. She had been the one to engineer so much of his pain. Whether she’d been in the camp or not, Priscilla Mattingly had given approval for everything that had happened there. And she’d been the one to give his Angel pain. Aiden’s gaze dropped to Angela and her bloody, beaten face, and the rage began to build. For a long second nothing happened, then he envisioned an atomic bomb striking Mattingly’s shields. Aiden staggered at the mental output, even as Mattingly gasped in pain.
At the same time the lights directly around the lot they were in began to blow, one right after another, giving them the darkness they needed. Aiden lunged at the mercenary in front of him. It was obvious he wasn’t a SEAL because he’d lost focus with the distractions around him. With a mighty grunt Aiden grabbed the man’s chin and twisted as hard as he could. The snap was audible, and sickening, but he didn’t have time to stop. Fontana had engaged with his mercenary and seemed to be holding his own, so he turned toward Angela.
With a mighty yell, she lunged to her feet, grabbing the hand fisted in her hair. Holding it to her head, she ducked under the man’s arm and twisted her whole body. Aiden heard the dislocation from yards away, then the man’s gurgling cry as she backslammed a knife into his throat. It took him a while to fall, so she ripped the knife back out and kicked him down.
Then suddenly it was the three of them. And Priscilla Mattingly.
Her eyes glittered in the dark night, but she didn’t seem worried at how the odds had changed. “Seems like I’m going to need new guards. It doesn’t change the fact that I’ll be taking the drive you stole.” Her voice took on a weight, a compulsion. “Give me the flash drive, Aiden Willingham.”
He grinned at her, spitting blood at her feet. “I don’t have it, you malicious, over-bearing psycho.”
Her eyes widened with fury and she lifted her hands, even as he moved forward, knife in hand to gut her. Fontana moved as well, flanking her other side. Angela scrambled to her feet, bloody knife still in hand, and started toward her, but the Bitch in Blue held her ground.
“Stop.”
Invisible bands shackled his legs. It felt like he was trying to walk through quicksand. He strained, trying to power through the restraint, but it wasn’t happening. Fontana was having the same issue. He couldn’t see Angela beyond Mattingly’s body now, but he assumed she was locked in place as well. Priscilla still had the stiletto in her hand, and she could reach down for any of her men’s fallen weapons if she wanted to take them out, but she appeared to think she was strong enough that she didn’t need the weapons. She grinned at them.
“You didn’t know I’d taken part in one of Shu’s other programs, Leonidas, did you rat? And I had a very positive response, as you can see.” She moved a hand and he slid five feet to the left through the gravel, closer to Fontana. “I can manipulate anything I want to with air.”
“Seems like you’re the rat if you took part in his experiments,” he gasped, still struggling.
She gave a ‘meh’ type of shrug. “After we’d watched the results for a while, we realized it wouldn’t be prudent to be unable to capture the rats if we needed to. Your results were unique, though. They’ve been hit and miss without Dr. Shu’s notes.”
A trickle of blood ran down her upper lip from her nose, and she reached into a pocket for a handkerchief. “There are these side effects that we just can’t seem to get rid of.” She fisted the cloth and straightened. “Where is the drive? It has to be here. Terberger had it in his possession when he arrived.”
Aiden held his hands out in a helpless shrug. “I have no idea where it is.”
“I really hope you’re wrong, Mr. Willingham, because that would mean you’re no longer useful to me.”
She clenched her hand and Aiden suddenly lost all of the breath in his lungs, a vice of air clamping around his chest. More horrifying to him, something slammed over his wrists, like handcuffs. It was just air, he knew that, but it felt as hard as iron. And as cold. Fontana was apparently feeling the same thing because he dug at his chest, but his hands were also bound together. Aiden could feel panic moving in, constricting his throat even tighter. He panted, trying to keep hold on his emotions, but he was on the verge of flashing back to the camp.
The constriction on his ribs eased and he could draw in a heavier breath, but he remained bound. He scratched at his wrists, doing everything he could to break the hold, but the grip of air was immovable. When he tried to draw more oxygen into his lungs, he couldn’t do it.
Aiden had expected to die tonight, but he didn’t want to do it this way. He didn’t want the Bitch in Blue to have the upper hand, and he definitely didn’t want Angel to die for his campaign.
“I’ve got your drive, bitch.”
Oh, no. If he’d had breath to speak he would have told Angela not to do this. There was no way she could hope to confront Priscilla and win.
Priscilla turned to Angela, standing just a few yards away. “You do? I seriously doubt that, Detective.” She held out her hand to Angela. “If by chance you do though, give me the drive.”
Angela’s feet began sliding forward in the gravel. She slid a hand into her left pocket and Aiden knew she was going to pull out the drive. He struggled even harder because he didn’t want Angela anywhere near the bitch. She would kill her in a heartbeat.
Angela’s movement stopped almost directly in front of Priscilla. Her fisted hand was out
in front of her, but she hadn’t opened it yet.
“Give me the drive, you little idiot before I suffocate you.”
“No.”
Angela’s fisted hand quivered as Priscilla mentally tried to take it from her. For a moment, as the weight of Priscilla’s power focused on Angela, the grip on Aiden loosened slightly, but not enough to completely let him go. He struggled, grasping at the slim piece of hope. Maybe if he pounded at her shields again he’d distract her. When he reached for his power, though, it seemed to be as restrained as his breathing. Panic surged.
Fontana wasn’t having any luck either, and there was a wild light in his eyes. Neither one of them had the mental fortitude to not break down if they were left here for any length of time, and their bodies were losing oxygen. It was only a matter of time before they passed out.
The only good news was that Wulfe hadn’t died yet. They would have felt the mental backlash if he had. Aiden pushed at his mind, praying that the man could miraculously get up and save them. But it didn’t happen. Wulfe didn’t move, and he didn’t yell at him like he always did.
Angela’s fisted arm was shaking bad enough that it was rattling her entire body, but her fingers hadn’t released. Pride surged through him at seeing the strength of her heart. It had been his greatest pleasure in life, getting to know her. He wished they’d had more time together.
“Fine,” Angela gritted suddenly. “You can have it.”
His heart sunk as she lowered her arm, then threw the black stick drive into the air, away from all of them. Aiden could see every muscle strain in Angela’s body as she did it.
Priscilla’s gaze followed the vital piece of information, and her focus shifted to catch it. Aiden felt the hold on him release even more, and knew that Angela must have as well. As Priscilla reached out with her power to grab the drive, Angela brought up her hidden, still-bloody right hand, plunging the blade she held into the other woman’s chest. There was a bit of resistance at her ribs, but Angela pushed with everything she had and the resistance gave way. She held Priscilla for several long seconds, then pressed the knife deeper before shoving away from her, yanking it free. The Bitch in Blue’s hold on all of them evaporated.
Priscilla gasped as she sank to her knees in the gravel. She looked down at the blood spreading across her blue power suit incredulously. Her head shook and her mouth fell open as she fell to the ground. She winced as if even the gravel caused her pain.
“This isn’t… the way the plan was supposed to go.”
Angela snorted. “Fuck your plan, lady. And fuck you.”
Priscilla Mattingly looked up at the night sky, blinking slowly as she bled out. Angela had struck her heart, and there was no fixing the wound. Aiden moved forward and looked down at her. He wanted to do vicious things to her to make her die faster, but maybe it was better revenge to see the three of them walk away. Hopefully four of them would walk away.
Angela had already moved to Wulfe and rolled the big man to his back. The wound in his neck was still losing blood, but not nearly as bad as it was earlier. Aiden stripped off his flak jacket, then his t-shirt. It was about the only thing they had that would absorb the blood. Angela wrapped it around his neck as much as she could. “I’m not sure what else to do.”
It was heartening that Wulfe hadn’t died yet, and that the cut seemed to be closing itself. As long as he hadn’t lost too much blood there was a chance he would pull out of it.
Come on, Wulfie. The Bitch in Blue is dead and you’re not here to celebrate with us.
Shut up, American. I’m trying to heal, and it’s not easy with you chattering in my head.
Aiden laughed, then repeated the conversation for Angela. Her eyes softened and she ran her hand through Wulfe’s long hair, straightening it. “Okay, buddy. But we’re going to have to move you. A few more minutes then you’ll have to be ready.”
Wulfe lifted a hand and gave them a lazy thumbs up, without opening his eyes or speaking.
Then, finally, Angela stood up and looked at him. “Are you okay?”
Nodding, Aiden drew her into his arms. “I have to admit, though, it was a near thing.” Physically, he would recover, but mentally… well, he had a feeling he would be adding some fresh dreams to his regular lineup. Angela was looking at him with understanding in her big eyes. She knew how much it had terrified him, being restrained that way. She pressed a kiss to his lips, then hissed at the pain. He cupped her head in his hand and just held her against him for a long time. She tasted of blood, but he didn’t care. And apparently neither did she, because she refused to let go of him.
“I’ve got the drive,” Fontana told them, limping to their side.
Releasing Aiden, Angela turned to his buddy. “Are you okay?”
Fontana seemed surprised by the question, and he tried to play off what had just happened to them, but Angela pulled him into a quick hug anyway. Aiden watched them and he saw the long blink Fontana took, as if he couldn’t resist the feel of another person holding him, before he pulled away. “We should probably go,” he said gruffly.
Chapter Twenty-One
Angela was amazed that there were no sirens screaming in their direction. The security guard must be truly out of it if he hadn’t heard any of the noise they’d made.
“What are we going to do with the bodies?” she asked.
Aiden gave her a long look. “We’re going to collect any weapons that we used, and we’re going to leave the bodies. It will be an incredible setback for the Collaborative, and as long as nothing connects us in any way, we’ll sit back and watch as they scramble to explain what she was doing here with all these black ops mercenaries.”
Angela smiled slightly. Yeah, that might be kind of fun, actually. The Silverstone Collaborative portrayed themselves as this awesome company, but she knew better now. There was evil at its heart, and they’d just taken out a big chunk of it.
Just to make sure, she crossed to Priscilla Mattingly. She knelt down and felt for a pulse in the woman’s neck, but there was none. Her eyes stared sightlessly up into the night and her body even felt cool to the touch. She wished that Aiden had been able to kill her, just for the sake of his psyche. But he seemed okay with everything the way it went down.
They gathered up all of their stray weapons, as well as any shells they noticed, and loaded them into the vehicles. Then they loaded Wulfe into the back of her car, head resting on a travel blanket. He’d opened his eyes once, but still seemed to be recovering from the knife wounds. Fontana took Wulfe’s car, and they left the train depot. There was not another car any here around. If the security company was coming to check on the alarm, it was long past their expected time.
All the way back to Denver, Angela waited to see blue lights in her rear view mirror, but it never happened. She’d done bad things tonight and her conscience was badgering her, but she wasn’t going to volunteer herself for justice. If anything, they’d meted out justice the only way that was acceptable tonight.
God, heads were going to roll when those bodies were found, and the shit was seriously going to hit the fan.
She pulled into the drive for Aiden’s warehouse and he hopped out to open the gate. He waved her through, then Fontana in Wulfe’s car. After they parked in the warehouse, they all moved to help Wulfe out, then up the stairs. The man was groggy, but shambled across to the bedside. While Fontana held him up, Aiden cut the man’s clothes from his body. They were blood-soaked and ruined. Angela hurried to the bathroom to grab a wet washcloth and towel to clean him up. They got the bulk of the blood off, but she flung out two more towels for him to lay upon. It would be easier to clean them then the sheets and mattress. After he was settled she brought the poor guy several bottles of water. One he drank immediately, before falling into a restless sleep. There was a scabbed over scar across his neck.
Fontana stood staring down at the bed and his motionless friend, his eyes haunted. Angela caught his attention. “Why don’t you hop in the shower and we’ll pat
ch up your shoulder.”
He shook his head. “I’m good.” He moved away to stretch a blanket out in the far corner of the loft. Then he plugged his ear buds into his ears and closed his eyes.
Aiden sat on the couch, head held in his hands. Not knowing what else to do, she went to him and leaned into his shoulder. She felt him drop a kiss to the top of her head. “Are you okay?”
Nodding, she flexed her hands. They were stiff and sore and her head ached like a son of a bitch, but overall she felt pretty good. But then, the adrenaline was still humming in her veins. They’d all taken a bit of a beating. Not as bad as the other group, obviously.
“Do you think we’re safe?”
Aiden squinted. “I’m not sure. It will take the company a while to hear about their people. Then I guess we’ll see what kind of spin they put on it.”
“I’ll be surprised if we hear anything,” Fontana said. “Or if we do they’ll spin it as a car crash. Or some other disaster.”
“I’ll keep my ear to the ground to see what I hear,” she murmured, eyes growing heavy as the edge started to wear off.
Aiden prodded her up and she let him lead her into the bathroom. He started the shower and very gently undressed her. Angela gave him a smile as he removed his own clothes as well. “Gonna make me cram in that tiny shower, huh?”
His lips quirked. “My chest hair will scrub your back.”
“Hm. Okay.”
He knew Angela wanted to chill, but she had wounds that needed to be cleaned up. The gash in her eyebrow probably needed stitches, but he doubted she’d be willing to go to the doctor for them. He glanced at the stitches on her left arm from the kids in the alley. She’d pulled three of them loose, but the wound itself still seemed tight. Her beautiful lower lip was split and looked painful, the bruising dark. If, by chance, she went back to work she would look worse than when she left.
“You were amazing out there,” he told her over the sound of the shower water.
She leaned against his front and angled her head to look up at him. “Really? I hope so. It’s been a few years since I’ve had to go commando.”
