by Carla Cassidy, Evelyn Vaughn, Harper Allen, Ruth Wind, Cindy Dees
“You know, being the world’s top assassin isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, Reese,” Dawn said, tossing the out-of-ammo gun aside and stepping swiftly over him. “But it still kind of frosts my pumpkin having wannabe’s trying to take me out.”
Another agonized scream was his only answer, but already she was up the rough-hewn stairs and pushing open the trapdoor. As she began racing down the hall, she checked the remote in her hand—13:59. Dammit, she’d wasted four whole minutes—minutes she couldn’t afford to waste.
“And it looks like another freakin’ roadblock up ahead,” she muttered worriedly as she bypassed the elevator and sprinted for the service stairs to the next level. “A last-ditch stand of Lab 33 guards battling against—”
Battling against a single Navy SEAL? Dawn frowned. The uniformed man holding off the guards was an incredible fighter, but the sheer number of his opponents was wearing him down. She’d intended to bypass the skirmish if possible, but she couldn’t leave an ally in the hands of the enemy.
“Got your back, buddy!” She yelled out her intention to the SEAL just as the guard coming up behind him raised the stock of his rifle to slam it down onto the man’s skull. The guard pivoted to face her instead. A moment later he was out cold on the floor and she was using his weapon as a battering ram against her half of the Lab 33 contingent as her SEAL partner, his back against hers, grimly took on the ones on his side.
“Hey, buddy!” Dawn slammed the butt of the rifle into a guard’s stomach. As her opponent doubled over, she dealt him a karate blow to the back of his neck. “When we’re finished with this sewing circle here, I’ve got to find Des Asher. He’s an SAS guy, tall, tanned, probably leading a mixed group of SAS and Rangers. You seen him?”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw her comrade drive a knee into a guard’s groin before planting a pile-driving punch on his chin that snapped the Lab 33’s man’s head backward. “Main level,” the SEAL grunted as he turned his attention to the next guard coming at him. “Still some pockets of heavy resistance in the entry area, although most of the lower floors have been secured. You one of the Athena women?”
“You might say—dammit, hold on a minute.” Dawn expediently dispatched the two guards who were rushing her by waiting until the last moment and then ramming their heads together. They both fell to their knees and two swift kicks took them out of the fight for good. “You might say that,” she continued. “Name’s Dawn O’Shaughnessy. I used to work for Aldrich Peters’s organization, but don’t hold that against—”
“Dawn?” The SEAL threw a startled look over his shoulder at her, and for the first time since she’d come to his aid she saw his face.
Her own eyes widened. “Dad?”
“Watch your left!”
At Thomas King’s quick warning Dawn saw the woven-steel garrote that was about to come looping down around her neck. Automatically she fought off the guard who had attempted to strangle her, her mind not on the physical confrontation but on the man fighting alongside her who had the same green-gold eyes and honey-blond hair as she did.
For crying out loud, O’Shaughnessy…you called him Dad? she thought in embarrassment. You’ve only seen the man twice before in your life, and that’s counting the time you had him in the crosshairs of a high-powered rifle. Sure, when you found Lynn and Faith, the three of you sisters had a meeting with the man who’s your biological father, but even though he seemed glad to meet us he had to feel a little awkward being confronted with a trio of daughters he’d never known existed—especially since he already has a wife and a teenage son. And now you’ve gone and made him feel uncomfortable all over again, dammit.
The guard slumped heavily to the floor. She turned to take on a new attacker, and then realized that the Lab 33 contingent had been wiped out by her and her father.
She fumbled for the remote activator, which she’d tucked in her belt when she’d entered the fray. “Guess I was out of line there, King,” she said curtly. “Calling you that, I mean. I’m sure you’d prefer I addressed you by your rank or your last name.”
“You just saved my life, Dawn.” Thomas King put a finger under her chin, gently forcing her to meet his gaze. “I’d say that gives you the right to call me anything you want…but Dad sounded just fine to me.”
Dawn started to blink away the stupid moisture she could feel behind her eyes, but stopped when she saw the same mistiness in her father’s identical green-gold gaze. “Sounded fine to me, too,” she said huskily. Wishing she could hold on to the moment and knowing she couldn’t, she glanced down at the remote in her hand—10:50. Another three minutes and ten seconds had ticked by.
Panic shot through her. “Dad, I need your help. I’ve got to find Des Asher and I’m just about out of time. Can you run interference for me in case any more of those freakin’ Lab 33 mothers try to stop us?”
“Gladly. But Dawn?” Without wasting precious moments asking for details, King stiff-armed the door to the service stairs open and kept pace with her as she took the stairs three at a time. “Stow the potty-mouth while you’re with your pop, okay? After watching you in action I’d probably be taking my life in my hands if I tried to paddle my little girl’s backside for trash-talking, but as a father I’d feel duty-bound to make the attempt.”
“You’ve got to be freakin’—” He wasn’t kidding, Dawn realized as she saw King’s loving but tough expression. She swallowed. “Yes, Dad,” she said meekly. “Stowing the potty-mouth directly, sir.”
She’d spent most of the past six months feeling as though her insides were made of ice, she thought as she flew up the last flight of stairs. But uniting with her father had melted one of the two final frozen chips that remained. Whether or not she had the chance to thaw the last one depended on what happened in the next—tensely she glanced down at the readout in her hand—eight minutes and thirty-nine seconds.
“Those sons of bitches don’t give up easy, dammit.” King’s blunt comment came as he and Dawn paused on the threshold of the door leading from the service stairs to the main level hallway. He caught Dawn’s expression. “One of the perks of fatherhood and rank. I get to swear a blue streak when I feel it’s warranted—and I’d say this warrants it.”
He was right, Dawn thought as she briefly surveyed the scene, searching for a glimpse of aqua eyes, her ears alert for the sound of a British-accented command. The Cassandras and their allies had obviously seized Lab 33, but in this hallway there still remained a few dozen hard-core fanatics who refused to surrender. It was no longer a battle but a vicious brawl, with boots and fists being preferable to gunfire in these close quarters where friend and foe were so tightly jammed together.
“He’s not here.” She heard a strained tremor in her voice and fought to control it.
“He wouldn’t be.” King gave her arm a fatherly squeeze. “Despite what it looks like, this is just a mopup operation. As one of the leaders, Asher’s more likely to be overseeing things in the reception area near the entrance to the complex.”
“What Aldrich liked to call the Great Room.” She nodded. “But to get to it I’m going to have to wade through this.”
“Piece of cake,” Thomas King said confidently, not noticing the second quick glance his daughter threw his way. “We’ll collect a bodyguard detail as we go. Just watch what happens if those bastards try to slow you down.”
She didn’t know what the hell he meant, Dawn thought as she followed him into the melee, but she was willing to trust his judgment. A scar-faced man wearing the dull gray-and-red of a Lab 33 guard saw her and immediately reached for the garrote clipped to his belt. Thomas King reacted.
“Runner coming through!” he roared, propelling Dawn ahead of him and body-blocking the guard’s lunge at her. “Athena team and allies, get your runner through! Don’t let the enemy delay her!”
Throughout the crowd Dawn saw determined faces turn her way; one of them belonging to a woman of about her own age, with icy blond hair and icy blue eyes. S
amantha St. John finished off the guard she’d been grappling with and instantly began making her way to their side. But Sam St. John wasn’t the only recognizable figure coming to her aid, Dawn realized unsteadily. A few feet ahead was Kayla Ryan, the tough police lieutenant already clearing a path by the most expedient method possible—by using the butt of a rifle to smash aside any Lab 33 guard foolish enough to get in her way. Lynn and Faith were a little farther off, but they too were making sure that she had clear access.
“You’re delivering a message? Who to?” St. John’s query was curt as she slammed an elbow backward into the rib cage of a guard who was about to impede their progress.
“Des Asher, the SAS—” Dawn began, but Sam cut her off.
“SAS hunk?” she suggested, her brief smile robbing her of her ice-queen demeanor for a moment. “Saw him not more than five minutes ago in what they call the Great Hall. He was about to start questioning captured hostiles to find out if there were any booby traps around this place.”
“There’s one, and it’s a hell of a lot closer to him than he knows,” Dawn said tersely as she glimpsed a knot of Lab 33 uniforms being held at bay by her phalanx of bodyguards. “Like right under the stitches in his bandaged arm. He doesn’t know it, but he’s carrying an explosive device on his own body that’s going to bring this whole place down within minutes if I can’t somehow defuse it.”
Sam St. John’s naturally fair complexion went chalky. Then her eyes blazed with a cold blue fire. “Get her through faster!” she commanded. “And I mean now!”
The bodies in front of them began to part as the Cassandras and their allies redoubled their efforts. Dawn found herself able to break into a jog and then a run, leaving her father and Sam St. John behind her, still doing their part in the fight. Kayla gave her a thumbs-up as she sped by. She caught a glimpse of Lynn and Faith, who shot worried but encouraging glances her way as she flashed past them.
Then she was out of the fighting and sprinting into what had once been Lab 33’s so-called Great Hall, the massive room with soaring ceilings she’d always thought looked more like a bad imitation of Grand Central Station than an impressive reception area for the few highly select, ruthless clients that Aldrich Peters meant it to impress.
It looked even more like a train station now. The marble antique statues that had dotted the room had been toppled from their pedestals during earlier fighting, and those same pedestals were being used by men and women issuing orders through microphones. Stretcher bearers were swiftly loading ambulances with wounded, most of them Lab 33 guards, and several of the costly silk-covered sofas upon which Peters had once received thuggish-looking warlords had been pushed together to create a hasty triage area, their upholstery stained now with blood.
Dawn took it all in with a glance. Her gaze dropped to the remote, and cold terror washed over her—4:01. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to find him in time,” she said through numb lips. “And even if I do, I still have to convince the man to hustle over to that triage area, have a field surgeon extract the Lab 33 device, and then try to defuse it. It can’t be done, dammit!”
“Bloody hell!”
The growled oath was easily audible over the noise and confusion around her. Adrenaline pumping suddenly through her, she whirled in the direction of the familiar voice.
Asher was on his knees beside a convulsing guard, trying to force the man’s clenched jaws open. The guard gave one final shudder and went limp.
“Some of the bastards have suicide pills. Get that information out to the other interrogators, will you.” As he rose to his feet, Asher directed his words to a Ranger beside him. The Ranger nodded and ran over to another group.
She’d found him, Dawn thought swiftly, but there wasn’t time for explanations or cooperation. There might not even be time to carry out the plan she’d begun to formulate while being escorted down the hallway by the Cassandras, but it was the only option remaining to her.
“In-and-out operation, O’Shaughnessy. You’ve done them before,” she said under her breath, taking a second to judge distances and note the exact position of the bandage on Asher’s upper arm. “Only difference is, this time the stakes are a hell of a lot higher.”
The night she’d walked away from him she’d predicted that the next time they met, it would be as opponents. Her prediction was about to come true.
She burst into action. Racing by the triage table, she snatched a scalpel out of the hand of a surgeon who was about to use it on a wounded guard. His outraged shout drew the attention of others, but all Dawn cared about was that Asher wasn’t alerted to her presence.
An angry aqua gaze turned quickly in the direction of the commotion and immediately fixed on her as she ran at top speed toward him. The incredulous expression on his face turned almost instantly to cold fury, and Dawn’s heart sank.
“Oh, crap,” she muttered, launching herself at him.
“I should have believed the evidence of my own eyes instead of Kayla Ryan’s assurance that you were on our side,” Asher growled, sidestepping her attack and making a grab for the scalpel in her hand. “What’s your cover story this time—you’re a surgeon with a shaky cutting hand?”
She feinted, dropped back a step and hooked her foot around his ankle. He turned his fall into a roll and was on his feet again before she could do more than slice the bandage on his bare arm.
“It’s not what it looks like,” she snapped. “You’ve got a freakin’ explosive device just under the skin of your arm, Ash, and if I don’t get it—”
“Come on, love, surely you can come up with something better than that. Your acting was better when you were trying to get me into your bed.” His fist kissed her chin, his punch only missing its aim because she’d dodged to one side. She took the opportunity to slash again at the dressing on his arm, and this time it parted completely, revealing the neat sutures that snaked from his bicep to his shoulder.
“You’re pissed off because you thought we had something going,” she said in disbelief. “Dammit, you’re taking this personally!”
“Bloody right I take it personally when a woman’s trying to rip open my hide.” His scowl turned to a grimace as she drove an elbow into his ribs. Before he could retaliate, the scalpel flashed in her hand again and the first few inches of sutures parted. “Not that I believe you, but if there really is a device, what in damnation do you intend to do with it?”
“Run like hell,” Dawn grunted as she grappled with him. “If I’m still in one piece when I get outside the complex, I’m going to throw it into the canyon.” She heard a clatter by her feet and instinctively looked down. The activator had fallen faceup. Its display read 1:01, but even as she watched it changed to 1:00. Abruptly she stopped fighting Asher and looked into his angry eyes.
“I’m telling you the truth, Ash,” she said hoarsely. “I know I lied to you about everything else, but you’ve got to trust me on this or we’ll all die when that readout reaches zero.”
His gaze held hers for a split second. His jaw tightened. Then he was running for the entrance like an Olympic sprinter, leaping over obstacles and shoving bystanders out of his way.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He’d had a head start of a few dozen feet on her, and Dawn screamed the question at his back as she sped up behind him, the remote she’d retrieved from the floor in one hand and the scalpel in her other.
“What does it look like? I’m running like bloody hell!” he growled, not bothering to turn his head.
She pulled alongside him. “And then you’re going to throw yourself off the cliff into the canyon?”
“Not how I’d planned to spend the evening, but yeah, that’s the general idea.” He reached inside his tunic and pulled out an ID hanging by a chain around his neck. The Rangers who had been about to stop them at the barrier that had been set up by the entrance jumped out of their way. Asher went on, his voice strained. “How we doing on time?”
“Thirty seconds left
. Turn right where the tunnel opens up to the outside. You trust me enough to dive into thin air?”
“You fought alongside me, O’Shaughnessy.” They burst out of the concealed entrance to Lab 33 and swerved right. “You’re my partner. And like I said, I hoped we might have some kind of future together. So, yes, I trust you.”
“Then shut up and stop running, dammit,” she said furiously, sticking her foot in front of him.
He fell heavily to the ground. Swearing savagely, he began to rise again, but she pushed him back. “This is gonna hurt,” she muttered, slicing down the length of his sutures.
“Damn you, O’Shaughnessy, it’s reading nine seconds! Let me up!”
“This is going to hurt more,” she said curtly as she pried open his healing wound and probed inside it with her fingertips.
“Six seconds.” He was obviously reading the remote beside them. “Five.”
“Got it!” Her fingers closed around a flat, wafer-thin disc, oddly heavy for its size. Her grip on it slick with his blood, she jumped to her feet.
“Four.” His tone wasn’t totally even. “I hope you don’t throw like a girl, O’Shaughnessy. Three.”
Dawn wound up like a major-league pitcher. “I hope I don’t throw like an Englishman. What the hell you Limeys see in cricket is beyond me.”
“Two.”
Her arm whipped forward. Her wrist snapped straight. The disc left her grasp like a fastball.
“One!”
“Oops, I dropped it. Nah, just kidd—”
“Zero!”
Somewhere in the dark well in front of her that was the yawning mouth of the canyon, Dawn saw a small, intensely bright dot of light. Confusion flickered in her and then she understood. Even as she dived for the dirt beside Asher and averted her face, yelling at him to shield his eyes too, the night lit up with a searing brilliance that turned everything to day and the canyon itself seemed to explode.
