God willing.
With more accuracy than he’d expected since he thought their friends still looked like trees with guns, he kept his finger on the trigger until all the trees had fallen.
“We need to move out before another wave of guerrillas find us.”
He knew better than to think Weber would give a shit about the wound. If he had the strength, he would have cold-cocked the heartless bastard. Instead, he just wanted to collapse in his arms and close his eyes. He understood the haste to retreat, to focus on the wound once they were clear, but it pissed him off, nonetheless. He looked up to see a beautiful blue sky, a bright blazing sun. Funny how cold he felt. Five minutes ago the sun had damn near melted the clothes to his skin.
“Get up, Snyder.”
“I...am...up.” The brightness of the day dulled. Nighttime must come early in the Middle East. He didn’t remember it getting dark this early yesterday. The pain threatening to pull him into an abyss dulled.
“Get up. That’s an order!”
“Just...sec...” Five minutes. He only needed five minutes to catch his breath.
Weber cussed and tucked himself under David’s arm, pulling him up and dragging him off toward the rendezvous point where the van waited for them. The jarring sent him into uncontrollable convulsions. The tidal wave of nausea consumed him and he heaved.
“Hang on, buddy. And if you puke on me, I’m gonna kick your ass.”
“Try...it...”
They made it back to the van in record time for a man carrying dead weight. Weber threw open the back door and literally tossed him inside. David grunted as he landed with a thud. Weber followed and slammed the door closed behind him. “Go!”
The van lurched to a start. He squinted up at the driver, recognizing the silhouette. “Hey...JT.”
“What the hell? I told you to stay back, JT!” Weber barked at her.
“I had to promise never to bake another birthday cake for Allen before he finally agreed to let me do this. He’s just on the other side of the hill waiting with the rest of the team.” She paused. “Jesus, Snyder. You look like hell. How’d it go?” JT Turner asked as she drove like a bat out of hell. She’d obviously been taking lessons from her man.
“Piece of cake,” Weber replied, the tone of his voice conveying an entirely different message.
“What happened?”
“Tr...Trees.” David slurred his words.
“Get us to that bird, JT. He’s fading on us.”
David blinked when the light faded. And then the van started to spin. He blinked again. He tried to open his eyes, but suddenly had fifty-pound weights attached to his lids. The van lost all its detail.
He would not die, not here. Not now. He’d finally made lead at TREX. A special agent. It took him ten years. Ten goddamn years and he blew his first op as lead. Shit. “W-Weber?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Sorry.” Sorry for letting you down. Sorry for not being more prepared. Sorry for getting shot.
“Don’t. You have nothing to be sorry about. Just stay with me.” He then said something David didn’t catch. The noises faded. The light faded. He faded. “Hang on, Snyder. We’ve got a bird waiting for us. JT’s already radioed ahead. They know you’re in bad shape.”
Bad shape? He didn’t feel in bad shape. As a matter of fact, he didn’t feel much of anything. Thank God. At least the pain had diminished. What an odd sensation. Like being shot full of Novocain. He took a breath to protest. It felt like someone held him underwater.
He pushed to remain conscious. With his last drip of energy, he opened his eyes to slits and looked up at Weber. They didn’t need to say a word. He saw it in Weber’s eyes.
I’m not going to make it.
He couldn’t take it, seeing how his mistake affected Weber. He lost his focus and tried to take another breath. Shit. He couldn’t breathe. He fought against the vise squeezing his chest, but didn’t have the energy. A strange gurgling escaped his throat as he exhaled. “Can’t—”
Before he finished, the van faded into complete darkness. He allowed that darkness to swallow him. The last thing he heard was Weber ordering him to hold on.
TWO
“I should have never let you talk me out of this op.” JT’s voice pulled David out of his sleep. Still groggy, not sure whether he should move let alone whether he wanted to, he remained still and listened.
“I’m the boss,” Weber replied.
“I’m the wife of the boss,” JT retorted.
Wife? Whoa! When did that happen? How long had he been out?
“All the more reason you don’t need to be out there. Not in your condition.”
Condition? He tuned his ears into the juicy conversation between the director and his wife.
“Sweetheart, you’re pregnant.”
Holy shit. JT? Pregnant? That would explain the shotgun wedding. David forced his eyes open. JT sat in a corner chair as Weber paced, as usual whenever he had a lot on his mind.
“I know!” JT didn’t seem pleased with the news. His gaze dropped to her abdomen, noticed how flat and toned it appeared under her uniform. She must not be too far along. “The morning pukings and constant nausea remind me of that.”
“You don’t sound happy.”
“We aren’t ready, Dan!” JT flung her arms around, signaling her growing agitation. The time for eavesdropping needed to stop before he witnessed one of her panic-induced meltdowns. He’d been on the receiving end more than once and didn’t even want to watch, let alone end up in the crossfire.
David tried to raise his arm to catch their attention. The intense pain from his attempted movement clouded his vision with black dots. He rested his arm and took a slight breath to speak. Tears sprang to his eyes. Even breathing hurt like a son of a bitch.
“I was on the pill, for crying out loud. I have half a mind to call them. Birth control, my ass.”
The Webers both sported their field BDUs, black on black with more black. David viewed his appearance by slowly glancing down so not to pass out from the movement. Modeling a lovely hospital gown of threadbare white and ugly-ass blue paisleys, he’d groan if he had the power. He hated white, hated blue, and hated hospitals.
“It’s only 99.8% effective,” Weber defended as he paused and looked at JT, his overbearing frame taking up half the tiny hospital room. She held her own against her husband, easily softening his rougher edges. “We’ve beat tougher odds than that.”
“You’re not helping.”
Weber chuckled. Another rarity. He didn’t seem nearly as upset about the pregnancy as JT. Interesting. David always took him as the loner type. Having him marry any woman, let alone a fireball like JT, shocked the shit out of him. He seemed keen on having a family, which opened up a whole new side of the surly TREX special director.
The poor, sorry bastard. David wouldn’t want to walk a day in the man’s shoes for one nano-second. Sure, JT made this year’s Playmate-of-the-Year look like a monkey in a dress. Her dark waves fell down to the middle of her back now, and her enormous green eyes melted a man’s heart while at the same time giving him a raging hard-on. If she and Weber hadn’t already had a thing going when they’d arrived in Colombia, he would have gone after her himself.
Thank God for unexpected miracles. She may be the best shot in TREX and every man’s wet dream—Weber’s original description, though David did agree with it—she also had a temper only Weber could handle. Hell, he was the only one who could handle any part of JT. And vice versa. They were a perfect match.
If David could have thrown out a cynical laugh without passing out from the pain, he would have. He didn’t believe in perfect matches. Soul mates. He’d learned his lesson the hard way, wasted enough time on someone he thought to be his perfect match. The bitterness drove up his pulse. The monitor next to him beeped in time, the sound reminding him of a tracking device as it closed in on its target. Beep. Beep. BeepBeepBeep.
He slowed his breathing as best he could
under the circumstances. The unbelievable pain coursing through his body, along with the goddamn annoying beeping of the monitor, told him the bullet hadn’t killed him. He darted his gaze around the room, careful not to move anything else.
“David?” An echo of a whisper landed in his ears. The voice, like an angel, so tender and soothing, comforted him and he closed his eyes as the sound dulled everything around him. The weight of her hand on his arm sent warmth shooting through him, numbing his pain while at the same time charging his senses. “Can you open your eyes for me?”
He did and landed his gaze on the most incredible set of pretty blue eyes he’d ever seen. An angel’s eyes, so mesmerizing, so perfect. Those eyes captivated him and reminded him of another set of blue eyes from an op gone wrong. So wrong. Trusting his instincts then, he’d paused just long enough. That pause had saved his life, but not hers. He blamed himself for her death. He spotted the wire she tripped moments before she did. He could have given up his position and pointed it out, hollered for her to stop. It might have cost him his life, but it would have at least saved hers.
And now here she stood before him. Maybe he’d died and gone to heaven. His angel. The angel from his fantasies. The agent from that op. From his nightmares.
Alive and even more breathtaking than he remembered, which said something since he had a photographic memory and recalled every last detail of that day. Every detail except her. Was her skin always that creamy?
Chocolate brown spirally curls tied back at the base of her delicate neck, with a few loose curls refusing to behave. The ponytail flowed down to the middle of her shoulders. Her deep, wide-set eyes, the exact color of the clearest waters, were shadowed behind attractive glasses with rims the same incredible color. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been shot,” he rasped. His voice sounded like someone scraped his larynx with a rusty blade, and a dull one at that. “What time is it?”
“More like what day is it.” Weber let out a long, tired sigh. He yawned and stood to stretch. It looked like it felt so good. David wanted to stretch like that but knew it would cause too much pain for his system to handle. Instead, he sat in that bed, feeling pathetically sorry for himself, longing to be anywhere else.
“I feel like shit.”
“You look like shit,” Weber retorted lightly, mid-stretch.
He narrowed his eyes. “Change places with me then.”
Weber’s expression grew serious, hardened. “I would if I could, my friend. You and I both know that bullet had my name on it. It should be me in that bed, not you.”
He wanted to shrug it off but even that little of movement would hurt too much. TREX agents knew the risks going into an op. They put their lives on the line every damn day. Sri Lanka was no different. That bullet could have gotten either one of them. He just happened to be the lucky recipient.
Real fucking lucky.
“I guess that means you owe me one,” David teased.
“I owe you more than that, Snyder. You saved my life.”
He didn’t see it that way. They were two agents watching each other’s backs. Weber would have done the same. “How long have I been out?”
“Almost a week.”
The news slammed into his chest. The vise tightened its grasp. As if it didn’t already hurt to breathe. “Oh shit.” David tried to swallow, only to have his throat choke him with the dryness. He fought the urge to cough. The action would send him back into the black abyss of unconsciousness. “Water?”
His angel nodded and grabbed a cup with a flex straw. She held it to his lips as he took a drink. Smiling, she brushed his forehead with her fingers. “We almost lost you, David.”
“The bullet,” Weber explained as he approached the bed, “shattered your shoulder blade. The little pieces of shrapnel took a ride and played pinball inside your ribcage.”
“Why can’t I breathe?”
“A piece no bigger than a cu—” Weber stopped when JT cleared her throat. With a forced smile, he went on. “A small piece of the shrapnel shredded the lower half of your right lung. They found dozens of bullet fragments scattered all through your torso. They saved what they could. The asshole who shot you used a bullet with an explosive hollow point.”
The warmth drained from his face and he lifted the covers slightly to glance at his groin. “Am I still a whole man?”
“No one touched you below the waist.”
“What a crime,” David mused and shot a look at the doctor. When she didn’t look away, warmth enveloped him, storming his body with vibrations that stemmed from his soul. He shifted to sit up and immediately stopped moving. The blinding pain shot through him like a white-hot poker. He hissed in a sharp breath and froze, taking in shallow breaths until it subsided.
“Let me help you,” his angel purred. She moved to the left side of the bed and slipped her arms under his arm. He couldn’t deny the electricity as it rocked his system. She had amazing strength for her size. He watched her, noting how nice her heart-shaped ass looked underneath that white coat. She had sexy as sin curves, from her defined calves to her high breasts. Everything about her was perfect. They must have him on some serious drugs for him to contemplate perfection. There was no such thing.
As she leaned over him, her breast brushed against his bare bicep. Oh dear Jesus. Her nipple poked him, so hard beneath the fabric of her lab coat. He couldn’t stop himself. “It’s you,” he breathed. “You’re real. You’re alive.”
“How much dope did you give him?” Weber asked.
“I’m not in charge of his meds,” his angel defended, her voice steady. Good for her.
Weber growled his impatience. “Enough of the nice doctor routine, McKoy. Tell us what we’re working with here.”
McKoy? Son of a fuck. He let out a quick breath. She’s TREX? His angel, the other agent in the field that fateful day…was TREX? Why the hell was he just finding out about her now?
She lost her smile as she glanced at Weber. “I have my orders.”
“Your orders,” Weber countered, “are to tell Snyder why you’re here.”
With a pouty sigh, she stepped back. David’s entire body ached in protest. She pulled up a chair and took a seat next to the bed, hiding her scowl from Weber. She was so cute with that pout crinkling her brow. He loved the way she wore her expressions. When she eyed him watching her, she gave him a coy grin before lowering her gaze to her lap.
Ah hell. Despite the fact he lay in a hospital bed, recovering from a gunshot wound, she had him semi-hard with that little gesture. Her smile sent electricity shooting through his heart like a defibrillator. “Special Agent Snyder, I’m Agent Charis McKoy. I’m here—”
“I know who you are,” David cut in, all the good feeling she’d brought gone with the reminder of her name. She’d better not be here thinking she had a chance to recruit him. It was a fucking bullet. It wasn’t like he’d lost a limb. “You’re from a sideline division.”
“Intel.” She adjusted her glasses as she crossed her very shapely legs. He couldn’t pull his attention away from the curved muscles of her calves, and the way those fantastic thighs disappeared under her white doctor’s coat made him wish he could take a deep breath.
The pale silvery scars traveled up her right leg, starting just above the ankle until the coat covered them. To someone throwing her a passing glance, they were practically invisible. But not to him. He slowly took her in, wondering if every scar on her leg was a result of the tragedy on the field that day. Did she have any others? His fingers tingled to strip her down and trace every inch of her to find out.
She cleared her throat and broke his concentration. As he snagged her gaze with his, he realized how embarrassed his gawking had made her. But the way her cheeks splashed color across her face caused him to continue to stare.
“I—uh—I—” She cleared her throat again and played with her glasses as she kept her eyes down.
He immediately felt like a pile of shit and wanted to s
ay something, but Weber broke in.
“Moving on.” He turned his back to McKoy and gave David a do-you-have-to-be-so-obvious look.
He pulled his interest away from the pretty doctor slash agent and kept his attention on Weber. Apprehension twisted in the pit of his stomach. “Why is she here?”
I’ll explain later, Weber signed, for David’s eyes only.
You’d better, he replied as discreetly as possible.
Why the hell would Weber send for intel? The agents in that division were all brainiacs with holier-than-thou reputations throughout TREX. They were the best in the world at tactical retrieval of any information, no matter how top secret or confidential it might be. The field agents, the ones in the line of fire and taking the bullets, were nothing more than pawns in a chess game to them. TREX’s intel was the best division in the entire agency. Just ask them.
It was also one of the sideline divisions TREX recycled their agents to when they no longer had the physical ability to perform their duties on the frontline. Sure, most agents went without a fight. Hell, some were even grateful they still had a job. Like Gabriel Lyons. He’d actually wanted that fucking desk job.
Not this agent.
Sam Wise, one of the best damn field agents David had ever known, ended up in intel after blowing out his knee in Beirut. He’d emailed from time-to-time to tell him how much he hated being stuck at a desk and wished the bullet had finished the job. It’d be no different for David.
“No way,” he protested. He ignored the new pain growing deep inside him. This one wouldn’t be dulled by morphine, or even the touch of his angel. An angel, he realized as bile burned into the back of his throat, with his own fucking agency. Talk about kicking a man while he’s down.
She darted her gaze between Weber and David. “But, I haven’t even started.”
“Save it,” David interrupted, pissed his dream lady turned out to be intel, and even more pissed TREX had lied to him when they told him he’d been alone on that mission. He hadn’t been alone. That revelation was a punch to the gut. TREX didn’t trust him enough to do his job. “I’m not interested.”
Seek and Destroy (TREX, #5) Page 2
