Flyboy

by Nicole Austin

  She hugged herself, wishing Widget were with her instead of with her parents. She had a serious need for the comfort of his companionship right about now.

  Chapter Ten

  Jhett whistled as he strolled back to the apartment. He wasn’t surprised when Tank fell in step with him, felt grateful for his silent presence and discretion. His friend didn’t question where he’d been for the past three days or what he’d been doing. “If I had a damn lick of common sense, I never would’ve agreed to this job.”

  “Yeah. We all know they hired you because of that boyish charm. So when do we go in?”

  Chills raced over his skin. Tank possessed some weird supernatural radar and never failed to know when action was headed their way. Jhett found it creepy and had to shake off the disquieting sensation. “Tonight. I found an inside man. Gotta act fast before he gets cold feet.”

  Waiting would give his informant time to reconsider his newly found conscience, and Jhett would not allow that to happen. They had to go in fast, extract Hillman before the captive outlived his usefulness. Of course, saving the computer geek had become a secondary consideration to Jhett’s personal, less altruistic goal—survival. He had to ensure Twyla and the team made it home safe. If possible, as a secondary consideration, he’d save his own skin too. Not that he deserved saving.

  Knowing he’d physically hurt Twyla several weeks earlier was slowly killing him. He couldn’t get the image of her bruised and swollen eye out of his head. Being trapped in a nightmare was no excuse for hitting her. Jhett had never caused intentional harm to any woman, especially not one under his protection. The flashbacks were getting worse the longer he spent in this godforsaken place. Getting out soon would be best for everyone involved.

  He tapped the com link. “Be home for supper in ten.” Everyone except Twyla acknowledged the order.

  As they reached the building, Tank placed a hand on his shoulder. “Talk to her. She’s worried.”

  Worried? About him. Why the hell would she be worried about him? That would indicate she cared about him. His heart went into an inverted flat spin, the negative Gs pulling his body one way and leaving his stomach somewhere far behind. He got the transient sense of disorientation that came from seeing the horizon and not being able to distinguish up from down anymore. Whoa! What the hell was that all about?

  Damn if it didn’t make him want to turn and run, take the coward’s way out so as not to experience anymore of the confusing emotions assaulting him. Hide somewhere far away from the possibility of Twyla MacAlister reaching in and ripping the still beating heart from his chest.

  Jhett sighed. He didn’t know how to deal with a woman’s concern. Had never let one get close enough to fret about him. “What the fuck am I supposed to say? Sorry for losing my cool, fucking you like a wild animal whenever the mood hits me and decking you?”

  “It’d be a good place to start.”

  “Yeah, then she’ll dropkick me out the door. She’d never understand and I don’t deserve her forgiveness.”

  Tank shook his head and took a deep breath. “You’re such a blind fool. Don’t be so stubborn. Open your eyes. The two of you have a lot more in common than either of you realize.”

  “Like what? So we both crave being smack-dab in the middle of the action, kicking ass. We both have this thing about trying to save everyone but ourselves. We’re both hotheads with volatile tempers. What else? Am I forgetting anything?”

  “Scares ya that much, huh?” Tank howled with laughter, making Jhett wonder if someone could actually bust their gut by laughing too hard. “Big bad Hammer’s afraid of a cream puff. Oh this is too good to keep to myself.” He tapped the com link. “Hey you guys. Guess what—”

  “Shut up, Tank,” Jhett roared and smacked the side of his friend’s head. “Twyla is no damn cream puff and I’m not afraid of anything.” So he lied. One thing frightened the hell out of him. The thought of going into Stark, of his own free will, and trying to get the computer geek out without losing his mind in the process.

  “We have to finish this. Tonight. Get your game face on.”

  * * * * *

  “Tank, you and Homerun will come in from the north.” Jhett pointed to a spot on the schematic spread over the table they’d gathered around. “Dodger will enter here.” He pointed out a spot to the southeast.

  Twyla wondered why the hell she had to go and fall in love with him. The damn idiot freaks out, disappears for three fucking days, strolls back in as if nothing has happened and expects them to all follow his orders. Lord, if she didn’t need him to get Hillman out of Stark and complete her mission so she didn’t have to forfeit her life, she’d kick his ass. She imagined how much fun it would be to give him a major ass whuppin’. The vivid images racing through her mind had her mouth pulling up at the corners and she had to bite her lip to suppress an evil grin.

  She hated the fact she’d be stuck in the apartment during all the fun stuff. All her life, computers had been her freedom. Her escape. Somehow the tables had turned and they were a prison, limiting her, holding her back. She wanted to be out there with the team, part of the action. “Fuck me,” she mumbled.

  “Excuse me?” Jhett stopped in the middle of giving his briefing. “Do you have something to add, Hestia?”

  Hestia. She despised the cursed call sign Jhett had given her. “Nope, not a thing.” She flashed an innocent smile at the group of men she’d become closer to than her own family, and that was saying a lot. Her brothers may be overprotective jerks, but she loved and respected them. This group of lethal men—hardened warriors—they made her feel truly alive. They valued her knowledge and skills, treated her as an equal. In her mind, staying behind would be the same as stripping them of their weapons. The same as sending them into battle without a vital asset.

  And they were all scrutinizing her expression. Shit! She placed her finger on the diagram. “I’ll take the laptop—”

  “No!” All four of them shouted the denial.

  “Why the hell not? I’ve proven that I can handle field work—”

  Jhett held up his hand. “Yes, you can handle gathering information, but you’ve never been in combat—”

  “I can fight!” she shouted defensively.

  “Yes, I know all too well how powerful of a punch you pack. You have no weapons training. What are you going to do when someone comes at you with a knife?”

  Twyla choked on a scream as a thick arm closed around her waist and the steel edge of a knife pressed against her windpipe, cutting off the sound before it fully formed. She hadn’t even seen Tank move, hadn’t heard a sound. She’d been focused on arguing her case with Jhett.

  The flow of warm breath next to her ear raised goose bumps on her skin. “What now, Twyla? How do you get out of this with your pretty little head still attached to your shoulders?”

  Her knees trembled and she let herself collapse, shifting so she leaned back into Tank. She didn’t move far. He’d anticipated the move, braced his body and supported the added weight, easily countering her attempt to get free.

  “Not good enough. It takes years of hard training way above and beyond your aikido skills to be ready for hand-to-hand combat. You will stay here in the apartment where it’s relatively safe. End of discussion.”

  “Sorry, honey!” Tank spoke low so only she heard him this time. “I love proving him wrong, but in this case he’s right and you know it. If you were out there, none of us would be able to focus on the mission. We’d be too busy worrying about you and trying to make sure you were all right.”

  Damn it all to hell. They were both right, but her pride wouldn’t let her admit it. Tank’s hold on her had loosened and she twisted in his arms, shaking him off. “Let. Go. Of. Me.”

  Tank lifted both hands in surrender and eased back to his previous position a few feet away. They may be right, for the most part, but Twyla knew she’d be an asset in the field. For the rest of the briefing she scowled at them. The jerks ignored her irrational be
havior and carried on as if nothing had happened. Ugh…men! They were just like her brothers. Overprotective idiots.

  Thinking about her brothers brought a pang of homesickness. Once the briefing wrapped up she sent an email, bounced it off a few satellites so it wasn’t traceable, letting the family know she was okay. The team went off to catch a few hours’ rest. They would go in after dark when the guards were changing shifts.

  “If you are to succeed then you must use every resource available. One such essential tool is lessons learned in past lives.” Danu’s words flowed through her mind and gave Twyla a wonderful idea. She closed the bedroom door, propped some pillows against the headboard and got comfortable on the bed, wondering how much she’d be able to learn about combat from the ancient Scottish warrior she’d once been in only a few hours’ time.

  “Hell if I’m going to stay in the nice safe apartment like some silly nitwit.”

  * * * * *

  “What’s up with Twyla?”

  Tank’s question took Jhett off guard. He’d been focused inward while arming himself, concentrating on the mission and getting them all out of here alive. “Huh? I don’t know. What makes you think something’s up with her?”

  “Are you blind?” Tank’s brow furrowed. “She’s banging away on those infernal damn machines wearing the most evil grin. The hellion is plotting something.”

  Jhett shrugged. “So what? She can be cooking up a twisted plot to seize control of alien spacecrafts, blow up any planets that resist and gain universal domination for all I care, as long as it keeps her busy and tied to that electronic leash.” Going into Stark was going to be hard enough. He didn’t need any more distractions.

  “Hey, whatever.” Tank tossed up his hands. “Just wanted to let you know there are storm clouds brewing on the horizon, but if you’re not worried—”

  “Shit, Tank. Let’s deal with one thing at a time. We can debate the female mind tomorrow on a jet somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean on our way home.” His old friend’s expression held obvious concern, but he shut up and continued to prepare for the fight ahead.

  Jhett performed one last check of his weapons and tapped his com. “Hammer mobile.”

  “Dodger’s in the game.”

  “Slow pokes. Homerun’s rounding first base.”

  “Damn overachievers,” Tank grumbled, heading down the stairs on his six.

  When they were all in position, he gave final orders. “Lock and load, gentlemen. Watch your asses and I’ll see you on the other side.” He glanced toward the dark, moonless sky and made a wish this would be over quick with all of them in one piece.

  * * * * *

  Twyla grew bored with waiting. The men had all moved into position, but no one would enter the compound until the guards changed shifts, which wouldn’t happen for another twenty minutes.

  She was so stunned by the pounding at the door that she stared at it for a long moment. People in this neighborhood minded their own business and didn’t make social calls so she figured it wouldn’t be anything good. She didn’t move until a second barrage shook the door within its frame.

  “Um…just a minute.”

  Her heart galloped in her chest as she stared at the wooden door. There was no peephole. Anyone could be on the other side. “The only way you’re going to find out is by opening the blasted thing.” Before she could change her mind, she reached out a shaking hand and pulled the door open.

  “Alexi,” she gasped, recognizing the man right away.

  He pushed past her into the room. “Where is he?”

  “Uh…who?”

  His dark gaze captured her and he grabbed her upper arms, giving a hard shake. “Don’t play stupid. Where the hell are Jhett and the rest of the team? Tell me they haven’t gone in.”

  Oh shit! He knew about the mission? “Uh—” He shook her harder. She really didn’t enjoy it when he did that.

  “They can’t go in. You have to stop them.”

  “Who—”

  The loud crack of flesh hitting flesh reached her ears before the bright slash of pain ripped through her cheek. Oh, now the bastard was making her mad so she swept his legs, taking him down to the floor. Only problem, he didn’t let her go and Twyla went down with Alexi. Something hard and thick rested under her hip, a weapon of one sort or another. She shivered, wanting nothing to do with the weapon tucked into his pants.

  “There’s no time for this,” he complained as she scrambled to get away. “The inside man Jhett found changed his mind. He reported the impending attack to the guards. If they go in now, they’re all going to die.”

  “NO!” Her scream sliced through the fog clouding Twyla’s thoughts. She pushed up onto her knees and landed a solid right hook to his jaw, delighted by the resounding crack of his head banging against the cement floor. He may be tall, dark, handsome and have a sexy-as-all-get-out accent, but he’d brought bad news she didn’t want to hear.

  She shouldn’t trust him. Jhett believed Alexi had stabbed him in the back and considered the Ukrainian to be his enemy. Twyla didn’t know if it was something in Alexi’s concerned expression or simply her intuition, but he did not seem to be working against them. Danu had told her to believe her strong feelings. They’d never failed her before.

  She tapped the com link even as she scrambled to her feet and raced for the bank of computers. “Abort, abort, abort.”

  No response, only static. “Son of a bitch!” She typed in commands fast and furious. All four dots on the GPS screen sat in place, waiting to go in. “This can’t be happening.” Something blocked their communication channel and since the men were all on radio silence until Jhett gave the go-ahead, nobody would know their link had been severed. Hell, Jhett wouldn’t even know because he would give the command and they’d move. No one would give or expect a response.

  Lord help her, the only way to reach them was to go mobile. First she had to get rid of the trash. “Thanks for letting me know. Now it’s time for you to go.” She ran to the door and yanked it open. “Buh-bye now.”

  The idiot didn’t even look up from brushing imaginary dirt off his clothes. “Yo! Commie spy dude. Get. Out.”

  His head snapped up, his expression one of annoyance. “How rude. That’s what I get for trying to help out an American cowboy.”

  “Yeah, uh…whatever. See ya, bye, gone.” She shoved him out the door, slammed it shut and returned to her computers.

  Twyla kept track of each team member’s GPS locator, checked over her gear and packed her laptop into a special papoose. She’d been dying to try out all this crazy spy gear Jhett had somehow managed to get. With the wireless satellite aircard, she’d be able to manage the systems here in the apartment remotely while on the move. Stupid bad-boy warriors thought their fighting skills made them superior to everyone else. Ha! She’d show them. Her intelligence was much more potent than their brawn.

  Never underestimate the power of a smart, pissed-off woman!

  A soft voice in the back of her mind warned maybe she should listen to the men and stay put. Yeah, like that’s gonna happen. “I’ve got all this wonderful technology at my disposal. Hell if I’m not going to use it and save their asses. Besides,” she rationalized, “there’s no other way to pull them out. I’ll get there in the nick of time and save the day. Simple.” And how cool that she’d get her chance to see some action.

  She caught sight of the clock on one of the monitors and cussed. In six minutes the team would go over the wall. She had to hurry. Twyla raced down the stairs and jogged through the night, sticking to the shadows. Jhett would be angrier than a wet hornet, but at least he’d be alive to bitch her out if she could make it there in time.

  No could about it. She would! She had to.

  Chapter Eleven

  I’m going to make it. Just one more block.

  A surge of adrenaline tingled along her nerve endings as she jogged down the street. She considered and discarded the possibility Alexi had given her false information when u
nable to determine a motivation for him doing so. There would be nothing for the double agent to gain by delaying the attack. She trusted her gut, which still insisted he was on the up and up.

  “Umph!” Something hit her from the side as she crossed the point where an alley entered the main street and sent her flying. No, not something, rather someone. Their bodies rolled and slid over the rough dirt road and pain raked the left side of her body as skin tore. Damn, she was going to have some nasty road rash from shoulder to ankle. They slammed into an abandoned car and came to an abrupt stop, her on the bottom of a twisted tangle of assorted body parts, the laptop jammed into her ribs and making it hard to breathe.

  Twyla shook her head to clear away the daze and looked up into a pair of eyes that were becoming all too familiar—Alexi Zelenko.

  “What the fuck? You idiot. Get the hell off me.” She shoved at his chest with both hands but he didn’t budge.

  “You cannot go to Stark! Everything I told you before about the facility was true.”

  She shivered. Damn if that accent didn’t do something to her insides, however now was not the time to think about the dark tones sliding over her battered skin. “I have to warn them before it’s too late. Getoffme,” she cried.

  “No! I won’t let you go there. Stark is a very bad place.”

  “Duh! No fucking shit, Sherlock. That’s exactly why I have to go there.” Why did men have to be so stupid at the most distressing of moments?

  Her com link came alive, Jhett’s voice issuing the order to go in ringing through her head. Sure, now the fucking thing decides to work.

  Soft pops sounded in the distance. In comparison, the rapid report of automatic gun fire through the miniscule earpiece was almost deafening. Her heart sank down low in her belly as the team members’ voices shouted to one another.

  Twyla’s mind screamed for her to run, get out there and help. These men were her friends. She wasn’t paralyzed, but her body froze like a statue, struck by the resounding staccato bursts of gunfire, screams and chatter. Tears streamed down her cheeks and someone let loose an agonized wail—such a horrible sound of helplessness.