JT stabbed the close door button repeatedly, her finger aching by the time the doors started to close. A hand shot between the doors, forcing them back open. JT jumped back and cursed. Think, think, think. She lunged forward and bit the hand as hard as she could.
"¡Ay! ¡Hay un perro en el elevador!" The hand jerked back out. The doors closed, cutting off the rest of his words.
JT took in her surroundings, searching for her means to escape. No doubt her Spanish friends would have radioed back up to Soapzilla about her being in the elevator.
She eyed the escape hatch above her. After putting the disc between her teeth, she swung up and pushed through the hatch feet first. After replacing the cover, JT flattened out on her belly. Cold. She looked down at her torso. Damn! She'd lost the towel. No more cover.
Swell. Now she was running for her life unarmed and butt-naked.
The elevator stopped and an older couple stepped in. JT did her best to stay quiet, despite the roof flexing and popping under her weight.
"Look, darling. Someone left their towel," the woman, dressed in a floor length dress coat, stated.
"That's what it looks like. Let's go. I'm starving."
JT eyed the woman's coat. If she could get the coat, she could walk out of the hotel without so much as a raised eyebrow. She opened the hatch and jumped back into the elevator. The man's eyes widened as he stared at her breasts. The woman gasped as she did the same. JT removed the disc from her mouth and smiled politely, ignoring the heat creeping up her neck over the fact she was a naked as the day she came into the world.
"I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am. But would you mind if I borrowed this?" JT already had the woman's coat off and wrapped it around her, slipping the disc into the pocket. "Thanks."
The elevator opened and JT casually walked out into the lobby. She glanced around and counted five men on Soapzilla's team. They were the only ones with dark skin and eyes nervously darting around the lobby. They were dressed in all black, matching caps and all. And they all packed. The tight turtlenecks did nothing to conceal their weapons.
She raised the collar of the coat and started for the door. This was too easy. Really. If any of them had half a brain, they'd see her bare feet beneath the coat. Her wet hair clinging to her face, still soapy with shampoo. She had to be a sight with all the elevator dust and grime on her from the top of the elevator. But no one seemed to notice.
"¡Oye! ¡Allí ella es!"
Double Shit.
She didn't know what he'd said, but since he'd yelled it in Spanish, and he didn't sound happy, JT broke into a sprint. The sharp little rocks on the cement of the parking lot dug into her feet. Damn, why didn't she grab her shoes on the way out?
Of course, the car she'd rented had another five men on it. She spun around and headed for the parking lot on the other side of the hotel.
"¡Párela!"
A man in black came out of nowhere and stopped in front of her like some linebacker. As big as one, too. Legs spread and ready to take her, he made an easy target. JT didn't even slow as she fisted him in the groin, dropped him.
She searched the parking lot. There had to be a car running somewhere. She inhaled, smelling for exhaust. Listening for a motor.
The revving of a motor caught her attention. She whipped around. An RV? No way would she be able to outrun these guys in that thing. It looked like it had been beat with a sledgehammer. The sides were all buckled and rusty. It had to be twenty-five feet long.
"¡Allí ella es! ¡Fuego!"
Fuego? Didn't that mean—
A bullet whizzed by her, barely missing her ear. Oh, great. Now they were shooting at her. She heard bullets whistle by, felt the wind at how close they came. She didn't have a choice. It was the motor home or death.
She turned and ran toward the RV just as a she felt the burning slice of a bullet dig a groove into the side of her left shoulder. It was a searing white-hot pain and almost brought her to her knees. She'd never been shot before. Couldn’t say she really liked it.
JT stumbled, but didn't go down. She brought her hand up and pressed against the wound to try and slow the bleeding. As she reached the RV, she fell against the side. Her blood, all over her hand and front, smeared the side of the rusty vehicle and JT fought the want to pass out from the sight, not to mention the searing, hot pain.
She opened the door and jumped inside, fell to the floor.
The man behind the wheel turned with a jerk. An older man, maybe mid-forties, frowned as he looked at her.
He spotted the blood now covering her shoulder. Instead of flooring it, which would have been the sensible thing to do, he simply stared.
"Unless you want the side of your luxury vehicle peppered with gunfire, you'd better get the hell out of here." She panted and pushed at her shoulder. The pain damn near blinded her, but she'd live.
"Have you been shot?" He spoke with a slight French accent. "Hey, don't I know you?"
JT felt her stomach flip. Could this guy be with the rest of them? She didn't wait around to find out. Jumping to her feet as best she could, she went for the door.
As she threw it open and tried to run out, she collided with a chest as hard as a brick wall. The man was huge and took up the entire doorway of the RV. Oh dear God. She was dead. She was dead and this was heaven. Handsome didn't even begin to describe this man, this specimen chiseled to perfection.
Her gaze traveled over his broad shoulders, across his hard chest, all the way down to his slim hips. She didn't need to see beneath his pants to know his legs were all corded muscle, athletic and very well shaped. Although the idea of seeing other muscles hidden by his pants had her intrigued.
His blue eyes were cool as they assessed her. The square muscle of his jaw flexed when his eyes flicked down to her exposed breasts. Her nipples puckered in response. She blamed the bite in the air and grabbed at the jacket, pulling it tightly around her and tying it off.
Perv . How dare he cop a look and force a response from her body like that.
"Get in if you want to live." He didn't wait for her answer, instead jumping in and nodding his head for the guy sitting behind the wheel to move. The older man hurried out of the seat and passed JT on his way to the back of the RV.
Her eyes followed him, ready to fight if needed. That's when she spotted another one sitting at the table behind her. He sprang to his feet and drew his weapon.
JT felt the panic start to creep in. She remembered her academy training. They put her in panicky situations all the time, trying to get her to crack. But she never did. JT Turner, always the level head, always calm. Adapted to any situation.
And then screwed it up.
Her nickname back at Gahanna suited her. They didn't call her Takedown Turner for nothing. She found a way to screw something up every mock mission, and usually ended up hurting herself in the process. She pushed on her shoulder. Obviously she kept with her track record on the real missions, too.
The man from the doorway spoke up. "We have company, and they aren't happy to see us. Hold on." He jumped into the driver's seat and floored it. Surprisingly, the motor home chirped the tires, and sent JT flying back against a counter. She accidentally lost her footing and fell against the one with the gun, easily taking it and jabbing it into the back of the driver's skull.
"Nobody move!" JT yelled when the driver's two counterparts tried to approach her. She pushed the gun harder against the driver's head and would have no problem blowing his devilishly handsome head right off his amazing shoulder if she needed to. At least her wound was on her left side, leaving her shooting hand free. Judging by her situation, she just might need it.
The distinct metallic smell of blood lingered in the air. The wound didn't look too bad, but damn, did it hurt. And the blood just kept seeping out. Great. She escaped a dozen bad guys, all to bleed out inside a motor home driven by a guy she didn't know whether wanted to save her or take her out.
The man had a pistol shoved into the back of his head,
and yet he didn't flinch. Didn't even break a sweat.
JT cocked the pistol. "Take me to—"
"You're getting blood on me." He spoke as if she hadn't just carjacked him, didn't have a loaded pistol aimed at the base of his skull. "Brooks, fix her up. Son-of-a-bitch. Hang on." The motor home went up on two wheels as the driver cranked the wheel. The tires squealed. It fell back down to all four after the corner.
"No one touches me." JT turned the gun toward the forty-something Frenchman as he approached with a first aid kit in his hands. He stopped and waited for the driver's orders.
"We really don't have time to discuss this. Let my man patch that rip in your shoulder. Ah shit. Brooks. Stevens. Give us some cover."
The two men jumped into action. The tall redhead flipped the table over and revealed quite an impressive collection of handguns. They both grabbed a handful and ran toward the back of the swaying motor home.
"Turner? If it wouldn't be too much trouble, get that damn sidearm out of my skull."
JT brought the barrel up. "How did you know my name?"
"Later." The man jerked the wheel, and JT braced herself against the wall to not be thrown again. This guy drove like an idiot. But, he drove like a fast idiot. She could see through the back window the goons didn't stand a chance keeping up with them in their big black SUV.
And then she saw what this guy apparently saw. Soapzilla had his head out the passenger's side window. He held the rather impressive barrel of a Turkish 8mm out the window. She didn't have to see the details to know what was about to happen.
"Gun!" She dropped to the floor just as the bullet crashed through the back window and whistled past her. The sudden movement tore open whatever clotting she'd managed to do to stop the bleeding in her shoulder. She felt her flesh rip and bit her lip to stop from crying out. The driver cursed and swerved.
"Holy shit! Gun? That was a goddamn cannon. I said throw some cover fire. What are you two doing back there?"
"Sorry. That one got by me." The older man sent shots flying toward the vehicle and sent it swerving.
"No kidding."
She didn't know which side this guy was on, but right now he kept her from the guys trying to kill her. That was good enough for her.
"Stevens? You got the safety on or something?" the driver yelled back. JT looked back as well. The redhead sat there, his back against the sidewall of the motor home, his hands shaking. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. JT recognized that look from others at Gahanna . Pasty. Upper lip covered in a cool sweat. The poor kid was about to pass out.
Or go postal.
"Hey kid?" she called back. "You all right?"
He looked at her, but couldn't speak. He shook harder as he started to breathe deep. More color drained from his face. He was about to lose it.
JT knew the feeling.
"It's okay," she told him and pulled herself up off the floor. "Just point and shoot."
"Jesus, Stevens! What the hell good is an agent if he can't discharge his weapon? Shoot, Opie!"
JT smacked the back of the driver's head. He turned and glared up at her. "That's not nice."
"I'm not a nice person."
That insult brought some of the color back in Steven's cheeks. "I h-hate that n-name, W-Weber."
Weber? As in Dan Weber? The Dan Weber? JT's eyes darted between Stevens and the man she'd only read about.
The infamous Dan Weber. In the flesh. And, despite the stress of the situation, very nice flesh.
"Shoot now or you will never get sent on another op."
Stevens turned his glare to Weber. More of his color came back, at least in his ears. He sat forward, his lethal glare never leaving the back of Weber's head.
Oh no. He was about to turn on them. JT had to do something before they all fell victim to 'friendly' fire.
"Turn it, Stevens. Get pissed at the bad guy. Time to prove to Weber here that you can do it."
He snapped back, leaned against the wall.
"Great," Weber mumbled. "I knew it. I just knew it. He's worthless to me."
"Shut up," JT retorted just loud enough for him to hear. "Give him a chance."
"We don't have time for a chance, lady. In case you haven't noticed, your friends are still on our tail."
"If we don't get him pointing in the right direction, he's liable to shoot us instead."
Weber tried to turn, which jerked the motor home onto a sidewalk. He jerked the wheel and brought the rocking RV back under control.
"That is if you don't kill us first," she added.
"You know," he started, then stopped. JT had already started for the back. If Stevens wouldn't shoot, she would. Jumping on the bed, she pushed him aside.
"Hey, Turner. Reach inside the oven," he told her.
"I'm a little busy back here." She fired two at the driver's side tire. Weber jerked the RV at the same time, throwing her aim off.
"You'll find a button where the pilot light would be. Press it."
"You press it. I'm busy."
"Push the goddamn button, woman!"
She fired off two more. Damn it. Weber needed to keep the RV steady if he expected her to actually hit the target. The motor home rocked too much for her to get off a good shot. Four out, five left in the clip, one in the pipe. "Look, there are men shooting at us. I'm bleeding all over your bed back here. I'm fighting the urge to either pass out or throw up, so forgive me if I'm not interested in cooking you all dinner."
"Do it if you want to shoot back with something more than that .45 in your hand."
That caught her attention. She crawled across the floor as more bullets slammed into the back of the motor home, opened the oven and found the button. The top of the stove flipped over to reveal another nice collection of weapons. Assault, pistols, semi-autos, some hand grenades, rifles. Wow. This guy was full of surprises.
"Rumor has it you're pretty good with one of those."
JT smiled as her nerves calmed. Now the odds were evening up a bit. Yes, she knew how to use one. Just ask her instructor. She could out shoot him after only six weeks of training. With her weak hand, no less. Of course, she hadn't been in a rocking RV and didn't have a gaping cavern in her shoulder then.
She grabbed a couple SKS 's, two more .45s, and a grenade. Still crouching, but no longer crawling, JT went to the back of the motor home and settled next to the older man, stabilized herself on the bed with her knees, her butt in the air, the pain in her shoulder down to a dull throb as she focused on her task. She threw off a few shots at the windshield with the SKS and caused the SUV to swerve.
"Nice shootin', Tex ," Weber yelled back to her.
"You ain't seen nothin', yet." She brought up a pistol in each hand, stood up on her knees, and fired. Left. Right. Left. Right. Until the front passenger tire blew. The SUV swerved and slowed. That gave her the opportunity she needed. With a steady hand, she used the SKS to shatter the windshield beyond anything they could possibly see through.
They kicked it out, revealing a whole lot of surprised faces. Then they sped up again, placing them into position.
Perfect.
She pulled the pin of the grenade with her teeth and easily tossed it through the hole left by the windshield. That got their attention. She smiled sweetly and waved good-bye to Soapzilla and his friends.
The vehicle slowed to a stop when the grenade went off. It filled the SUV with a deep crimson smoke and the men all poured out, coughing and covering their faces.
Expecting an explosion, JT felt robbed and turned to the driver. She wanted to blow them up, damn it. "What the hell?"
"The real ones are on the left. You grabbed a smoker. But not just any smoker. OC-10 in a nice compact."
"Cayenne pepper. Nice," She was starting to like this guy. Of course, it could be the loss of blood clouding her judgment. "They'll be incapacitated for a bit."
"We aren't out of the woods, yet. Here comes another one." He kept his eyes on his mirrors, while still driving incredibly well, missi
ng every obstacle. JT would have said something, but she was sure Weber had no problem with his ego. He didn't need her stroking it. "Hang on." He jerked the vehicle around a corner at the last minute, barely keeping it on two wheels. No wonder the sides of the thing were so beat up.
Stevens rolled into JT. She pushed him back, knowing full and well the turn of the RV wasn't the only cause to his contact. The movement again tore at her shoulder. At this rate, she'd never clot.
"Do that again and I'll turn on you." JT grabbed a clip and shoved it into the SKS .
"Ooh. I like 'em feisty." He laughed, until JT elbowed him in the ribs. Great, now he got his nerve.
"Okay, you two. Let's break it up," Weber snapped at them. "How about we shoot the bad guys, instead of shooting off at the mouth. That means you, Stevens. Grab your weapon and fire. Unless you're okay with a girl outshooting you."
Stevens' ears turned beet red. JT hid her smile and fired off a few rounds at the windshield of the fast approaching black SUV. Stevens rolled back onto his knees, facing the back and into position. He flipped his safety off.
And started to shake again.
JT rolled her eyes and grabbed the gun from him, pushed him off the bed. He landed like a lump on the floor. They didn't need to take the chance. When he tried to get back up, JT shot him a venomous look. "Stay."
"Do they all drive those?" Brooks asked.
"Apparently," JT lobbed back.
"Less talk, more fire!" Weber ordered. JT bit her lip to hold in what she really wanted to say about where he could stick his order.
But it came out anyway. "Hey, Mario? How about you worry about keeping it steady, and let us worry about the shooting. Capisce?"
If she didn't know any better, she'd say he just smiled.
Chapter 3
It took some inventive driving, but Dan finally lost the last SUV. His new guest stopped bleeding just as they pulled into the warehouse previously tagged as their safety net, should they need to make a fast getaway.
Having assholes in SUVs chase them down the side streets of Seattle , all the while shooting at them, gave them sufficient need of a safety net.
At Any Cost Page 3
