by Kaylea Cross
Dempsey ran into the cabin with three of his guards, while the others scattered like roaches behind cover. A few of the dumbasses fired at the SWAT team.
Briar’s pulse remained calm, her breathing slow and steady as she watched the assault, ready to fire the instant she got the command. She kept her eyes on one of the bodyguards who managed to slip around the far right side of the cabin and take shelter behind an old stone shed.
“Target right, two o’clock. Six-hundred-eight yards,” Rycroft murmured, his voice as calm as if he was commenting on the weather.
“On him.”
The man raised his rifle to his shoulder and took aim at the assault team, clearly thinking he was safe behind cover. But he wasn’t. From here she had a perfect view of the side of his head.
She honed in on his ear, adjusted the scope’s reticle. Curved her finger around the trigger. And waited.
An ounce or two more pressure…
Just out of her view, one of the SWAT members engaged a bodyguard. The man behind the shed shifted. She waited for Rycroft’s command.
“Fire,” he said.
She squeezed the trigger. The butt kicked into her shoulder, her body absorbing the force of the recoil as the report echoed through the woods. Less than a heartbeat later, her bullet struck the target. His head exploded like a melon and he slumped over, dead before he even hit the ground.
She pulled back the bolt and pushed it forward in one smooth, automatic motion, clearing the chamber and loading the next round.
“Good hit,” Rycroft murmured. “Target, eleven o’clock. Six-hundred-two yards.”
She shifted the barrel slightly left, found the man he was looking at. “Got him.”
But she never got the chance to fire another round.
After a brief exchange of fire between SWAT and the neo-Nazi fucktards, it was over.
“HVT in custody, cabin clear. Sweeping rear area now,” the team leader said.
Good deal. Keeping watch just in case, Briar never took her eye from her scope as she scanned the area, looking for more threats they might have missed.
She and Rycroft kept watch until SWAT was done securing the area. Agents loaded the prisoners onto the helos and took off, leaving the scene for the mop-up crews to deal with.
Pushing back into a kneeling position, Rycroft looked over at her, his grin barely visible in the near darkness. “Guess that means the fun’s over. Ready to get out of here?”
“Yeah.”
They gathered up their gear and hiked back to the dirt bikes they’d hidden before riding out to the closest road where a pickup waited for them. The driver took them to the command center.
After finishing their reports—the part Briar hated but was grudgingly accepting more and more—she and Rycroft each got a hot shower and a mug of coffee, which she declined. Rycroft raised an eyebrow at her in surprise but didn’t say anything as she climbed into the SUV. He drove them to the airport where a small private plane awaited them.
She spent the hour-long flight dozing on and off, woke when they came in for their final approach. Yawning, she stretched her arms over her head. Rycroft looked totally alert, as if he’d never slept at all. He was a handsome, well-built man, even in his fifties. Not that he was anywhere near as gorgeous as Matt. But still. “For a retired guy, you sure don’t need much sleep,” she told him.
He grinned, his silver eyes glinting. “It’s called parenting. Only the strong survive.”
She huffed out a laugh and followed him off the plane to the small terminal building where an excited squeal startled her. She stopped, watched as a little purple blur streaked around the corner and came at them.
Rycroft dropped his bags, a huge smile lighting his face as he crouched down and held his arms open. “There’s my girl,” he said, catching Sarah as the raven-haired toddler launched herself into her father’s arms.
A bittersweet, poignant pang hit Briar in the center of her chest as she watched them. The deep, incredible bond between them was undeniable, even though they weren’t related by blood.
The scene made her think of Matt. He had always wanted to be a father, and she had no doubt he would be amazing at it. She wanted a family too, but deep inside she worried she wasn’t cut out for it. She wasn’t exactly maternal. Or normal, for that matter. Kids were fragile and impressionable. She didn’t want to ruin one.
Then Grace came around the corner, smiling fondly at her daughter and husband. “She insisted we come to get you,” she said to him as she walked up to hug him.
“I’m glad. This is a nice surprise.” Still holding Sarah, he leaned down to kiss the crown of his wife’s head, the pigtailed toddler snuggled up in his strong arms.
The picture they presented made Briar miss Matt even more.
Sarah made eye contact with Briar over her father’s broad shoulder, grinned. “Hi Briar.”
Briar couldn’t help but grin back. She wasn’t that comfortable around kids or babies, but this one seemed to like her well enough, so maybe there was still hope for her. “Hey, Sarah-Grace.”
Rycroft glanced back at her, jerked his head toward the exit. “Come on, we’ll give you a lift.”
“Thanks, but I’ve already got a cab coming. You guys go ahead.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”
She nodded. “And maybe get that baby some pancakes on the way home.”
Sarah’s head popped off her father’s shoulder, her black eyes lighting up. “Pancakes? I love pancakes.”
Rycroft shot Briar a wry look. “Thanks a lot.” He shifted Sarah into his left arm and reached down to pick up his bags while Grace wound an arm around his waist. “See you Monday.”
“Yeah.” Briar waited a moment, giving them some space because being too close to their family unit felt like an intrusion for some reason, then headed for the front doors.
While waiting for her cab, she pulled out her phone to call Matt, then held off. He was on an op in Colorado. She didn’t want to take the chance of distracting him in any way right now.
But she was sure looking forward to this particular reunion. She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when she told him her news…
About the Author
NY Times and USA Today Bestselling author Kaylea Cross writes edge-of-your-seat military romantic suspense. Her work has won many awards, including the Daphne du Maurier Award of Excellence, and has been nominated multiple times for the National Readers’ Choice Awards. A Registered Massage Therapist by trade, Kaylea is also an avid gardener, artist, Civil War buff, Special Ops aficionado, belly dance enthusiast and former nationally-carded softball pitcher. She lives in Vancouver, BC with her husband and family.
You can visit Kaylea at www.kayleacross.com. If you would like to be notified of future releases, please join her newsletter. Direct link: http://kayleacross.com/v2/newsletter/
Complete Booklist
ROMANTIC SUSPENSE
DEA FAST Series
Falling Fast
Fast Kill
Stand Fast
Strike Fast
Fast Fury
Fast Justice
Fast Vengeance
Colebrook Siblings Trilogy
Brody’s Vow
Wyatt’s Stand
Easton’s Claim
Hostage Rescue Team Series
Marked
Targeted
Hunted
Disavowed
Avenged
Exposed
Seized
Wanted
Betrayed
Reclaimed
Shattered
Titanium Security Series
Ignited
Singed
Burned
Extinguished
Rekindled
Blindsided: A Titanium Christmas novella
Bagram Special Ops Series
Deadly Descent
Tactical Strike
Lethal Pursuit
Danger Close
; Collateral Damage
Never Surrender (a MacKenzie Family novella)
Suspense Series
Out of Her League
Cover of Darkness
No Turning Back
Relentless
Absolution
PARANORMAL ROMANCE
Empowered Series
Darkest Caress
HISTORICAL ROMANCE
The Vacant Chair
EROTIC ROMANCE (writing as Callie Croix)
Deacon’s Touch
Dillon’s Claim
No Holds Barred
Touch Me
Let Me In
Covert Seduction
