Nike's Wings

by Valerie Douglas

  She had one more chore yet to do. She peeked quickly through the little window of the door to the main hallway.

  A guard stood in clear sight, another at the other end.

  It was the one at the far end who would be the hardest. Of all the languages they’d force-fed her when she’d first been brought into the ‘special program’, Chechen hadn’t been one of them, and Russian would hardly be reassuring after their experiences with them. She’d have to chance it.

  For the moment, though…

  Crouching by the side of the door out of sight of the small window, she tapped lightly on the door. Waited. Tapped again.

  While the noise was unusual, it wasn’t alarming, and neither of the guards had cried out when she’d taken them down.

  As expected the door opened.

  Springing up, she grabbed the man’s shirt, falling backward to pull him with her as she curled her knees to take his weight and rolled backwards. She pistoned her legs up and over. The man flew over her head, his headset falling off. Scrambling for it, she tossed it aside.

  All the wind had been knocked out of the guard, but that wouldn’t last long.

  Swiftly she turned him over as he heaved and gasped for air then secured him. Hauling one of his unconscious friends over his face, she muffled his first shout.

  A quick glance down the hall and she saw the other guard approach warily, the sudden departure of his friend through the door concerning, but not really alarming him. All he would have seen was his friend apparently tripping as he went through the door.

  Keeping her voice low as the door began to open, Nike swore softly, roundly and viciously in what little Czech she knew, as a man would do if he’d done something stupid and klutzy. The sound would hopefully be similar enough to what he expected.

  The other man came through the door, already prepared to tease his buddy.

  Nike drove her fist into his belly and when he bent over, spun, grabbed his shoulders to propel him into the wall of the stairwell. Stunned, he collapsed.

  He fell over his friend, immobilizing him further.

  Carefully, she secured him, too.

  It was taking too long. She was swiftly running out of time.

  Quickly, she darted down the short set of stairs to the basement. She hadn’t dared do this with her back uncovered.

  Neither of the first locations that Brad or Steve Buchanan listed bore explosives. Relief washed over her. It had been a bluff.

  Turning her microphone on, locking it into the on position, Nike spoke as she pushed open the outer door. “First floor, clear. Stairwell clear. No explosives.”

  She took only a second to acknowledge those waiting outside in the growing darkness and then she moved up the stairs with Mitch and the others at her heels.

  Glancing at the bodies in the stairwell, Miri Cochran’s brows flashed upward in surprise, but all she did was gesture at two of her men.

  “Secure them and get them outside.” To the others, she said, “Let’s move. Keep it quiet, move fast. Knock and then get the occupants the hell out of here as quickly and quietly as possible. Alan, you’re with me.”

  Nike was already moving up to the next floor.

  “Second floor, clear, third floor, clear. No guards visible.”

  That didn’t mean they weren’t there. They very likely were. It just meant they weren’t easily visible. Clearing them would fall to the NYPD.

  At each level Nike peered quickly through the glass. What guards they had were likely to be at the elevators, each with a line of sight down the hall.

  On the fifth floor Nike paused by the door and took a breath.

  It was unlikely this floor would be heavily guarded. It was too high for any ladders save those of the fire department, too low for easy access from the roof. It was a chance she had to take. She wanted to come up from beneath Ali, yet close to his position. There would still be the interior cross-hall to traverse. That would almost certainly be guarded.

  She looked at Mitch.

  It had been a while since they’d done anything like this. His eyes were steady though as he nodded. She glanced at the others, spaced out down the stairs, and to her shock saw Ty among them, guarding their rear. The surprise rocked her.

  Nike pushed the knowledge of his presence away.

  “Don’t shoot unless you have to,” she said.

  They all knew it.

  “Showtime,” she said and Mitch opened the door for her.

  Instantly she darted down the hall, running as hard as she could even while Mitch stepped back inside, out of the line of possible fire. He flattened against inside the nearest doorframe as Brad set a shoulder to the door to the stairs to keep it open for the others and Andy took his position on the opposite side.

  No bullets came.

  All of Nike’s attention was on the distant, slightly brighter area ahead, the elevators and another set of stairs.

  Movement.

  She leaped for the wall, took two steps, three, along it – wall-walking – as a man stepped to the juncture of the halls.

  He simply gaped at the sight of her where she shouldn’t be and then she pushed off, turned in midair to hit him with both feet. He staggered back as she back-flipped off his chest, dropped and spun to slam a back kick into his jaw.

  He went down like a stone.

  She didn’t stop. She was already moving, pushing the button for the elevator to draw the attention of those upstairs to the elevators even as she went past them, pulling the door to the stairs beside the elevators open. Then she disappeared, to sprint up them.

  It was astonishing to watch, Ty thought. Poetry in motion. Incredible and beautiful.

  The team was right behind her on the steps as if they’d practiced it a thousand times, flattening themselves against the walls, covering her if she needed it.

  She reached the top of the stairs and paused by the doors, listened for just a moment.

  A look to Mitch, to the others…

  For a second, she looked back once again at Ty. He saw something move in her eyes, her brows drawing together a little behind the concealing glasses.

  Taking a breath, she said, “Keep them off me, gentlemen.”

  It had the air of ritual about it that phrase. She nodded to Mitch.

  Every time Nike looked at Ty something inside her twisted. He was a distraction. Lives depended on her. She put it aside.

  Once more Mitch yanked the door open.

  She sprinted into the hallway, raced for the apartment where they thought Ali was located.

  A man burst out of one of the rooms, but she was already on him, catching him by the shirt as she spun around him, slinging him back toward Mitch, who clipped him hard with the butt of his rifle. The man went down.

  Swiftly, silently, Brad bent to secure him as Andy and Ty covered the hallway in both directions.

  It was a well-practiced routine, obviously.

  Two men came around the bend of the corridor from the direction of their advance.

  “Cover,” Nike shouted and everyone ducked into the protection of nearby doorways, peered around them with guns at ready.

  Not Nike.

  She dove into a wall-spin as her legs came down and into a flying cartwheel out of it. As she came up she was already drawing and firing.

  Both men responded. Plaster sprayed around her as they let loose a burst of gunfire, but she was already below their line of fire.

  So close, though, it was nearly impossible for her to miss.

  Watching her she was grace in motion, but the risks she took made Ty’s blood freeze. Her thick hair swirled as she spun. She turned her face away from the plaster spray and bullets, the yellow glasses protecting her eyes.

  She was already past the two men, ignoring them as they fell, when the first man inside the apartment came out shooting. She spun away from the line of fire.

  The man dropped almost instantly as Mitch took him out.

  At this point she was almost bait, drawing
both attention and fire.

  The last door.

  Mitch signaled Andy and Brad down the hall past it and Nike.

  “Side door,” he said, softly.

  There had to be one, another exit, an escape route.

  Both of them cat-footed their way swiftly and silently down the hall.

  Those inside would be alarmed by the gunfire, but they wouldn’t know what was happening in the hall.

  If there was a bomb or bombs, now would be the time for it or them to go off.

  Silence reigned.

  Nothing happened, but there was a breathless second when they anticipated it.

  “I’ll go low,” Nike said. “Clear the door. Everyone stay down. They’ll be shooting chest high if they open fire and so will I if I need to clear the door.”

  Mitch looked at Ty. “I’ll take the right, you take the left.”

  Ty glanced at Nike as she came to stand beside him.

  Their eyes met.

  It was a shock to realize how small she was, barely coming to his shoulder. She was such a little thing.

  Something moved in the eyes behind the sunglasses. Ty saw a flash of it, something he couldn’t define.

  Mitch took the door, smashed a kick against it even as Nike swung around Ty to dive into the room.

  She rolled on her shoulders, spun to come up on her feet, her guns in her hands.

  “Doorway is clear,” Nike said and turned away. “Movement…”

  It came from another room…male, armed. He stepped out. She popped off a shot even as she spun away from his line of fire.

  The man fell as Mitch fired, and Nike advanced into the next room, the bedroom. She saw motion even as she ran to wall-walk out of the line of fire, her own weapons tracking half-seen movement as bullets plowed into plaster and wood around her.

  She fired.

  A sharp crack from behind her made Nike whip her head around even as she saw the shooter fall.

  Ty stood in the doorway, keeping her back covered while Mitch secured the one he’d shot. Her heart twisted. She gave him a quick glance in thanks.

  His heart in his throat, Ty had seen the man break from cover, his gun aimed at Nike.

  Again, Ty saw something in her eyes, something unreadable…vulnerable.

  One last door. The one to the kitchen and the last exit.

  They needed a distraction.

  Nike glanced at Mitch in silent communication.

  “Andy, Brad,” Mitch said softly into the microphone, “hit the rear entrance on my cue. Just kick the door in, fade back and keep your heads down.”

  Mitch and Ty closed warily, all of them staying out of the direct line of fire through the kitchen door.

  Standing by Ty once again, she looked at Mitch.

  “Ready?”

  Mitch nodded and reached for the handle of the door. If necessary, she knew he’d kick it like the last one, but that was risky. He hoped Andy and Brad would distract their adversary.

  “Now,” Mitch said.

  At the first rattle of the knob, though, the man on the other side opened fire. Mitch threw himself back out of the way. There was more gunfire, facing away. Andy and Brad.

  The unlatched door swung open.

  “Freeze,” Mitch shouted, knowing the protocols, as all three of them, he, Nike and Ty swung their weapons around the door. “Federal Agents. Put down your weapon.”

  The man who stood there was tall, his hair dark, his deep brown eyes intense. He had an air of command about him, strength.

  Ali.

  They could almost see him debate it.

  “Don’t,” Ty said, evenly. “Don’t waste your life. Make your statements from jail. People will hear you. Otherwise, you’ll just be one more crazy terrorist.”

  They watched him consider it, guns drawn.

  “You have a point. At least,” the man said, his eyes grim. “I will be safer there than out here.”

  He dropped his weapons.

  It was over.

  “On your knees,” Mitch added.

  “Suspect in custody,” Nike said, over the radio.

  They held him until Miri and her people came up the stairs to take him officially into custody.

  Buck came with them.

  Leaning a shoulder against the jamb of the bullet-riddled door, he glanced at it idly and looked at Ty.

  “Have a good time?” Buck asked.

  Ty smiled wryly in return, shrugged a little. “It felt good to be back in action again.”

  Looking at the group across the way, Nike, Mitch and his people, Ty gave it some consideration.

  He smiled.

  “It was… educational,” he said.

  “Are you going to bring her on board?” Buck asked.

  Ty nodded. “She’s too good to leave out there. We need those skills.”

  He had a hard time pulling his eyes away from her. She’d been incredible to watch.

  Even now, standing there wearing those tight leather pants and the tight t-shirt, her thick hair drawn back, she was beautiful and intensely sexy. Not overtly, not in an Angelina Jolie in your face way, but unconsciously, naturally.

  “We didn’t find any explosives anywhere,” Miri told them, as her people hauled the prisoners out.

  “You all right, Niki?” Mitch asked her, concerned.

  It wasn’t an idle question. Nike was grateful he’d reminded her. Parts of her back and ribs were no longer capable of sensation thanks to all the abuse they had suffered over the years. The nerves had been too badly damaged at one time or another. For a while she’d suffered neuralgia over part of her ribs, until the searing pain had become too distracting. Over the doctor’s objections those nerves too had been severed to give her some relief from the constant pain.

  Nike looked around at herself. “Fine, unless I’m bleeding someplace I can’t see.”

  Mitch knew enough about her to know what she asked. He’d seen it once or twice when she was bleeding or bruised and oblivious to the pain, unable to feel it.

  Glancing over her, he said, “Nope, you’re good.”

  That was a relief.

  A familiar voice asked, “Are you looking for a job?”

  Nike turned to find Ty standing there.

  Just looking into his blue eyes made something inside her quiver a little.

  In her head, Nike heard the echo of Evan’s voice, saw the expression on his face. “If they offer it to you, you should take it…”

  “Maybe…” she answered, slowly.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The bright little yellow sports cars swung fast around the sharp curves of the drive that wound through and between the hills that concealed the NIO headquarters compound from the curious eyes of those driving past on the road below and came to a stop in the parking lot. Ty was surprised to see a car; he’d half expected a motorcycle. He wasn’t surprised to find the car was a convertible, though, with the top down on a beautiful spring day.

  He was surprised to see was what she was wearing. It was startlingly conservative for her.

  Hard rock music pounded from the speakers in the gym upstairs. Above the clank of weights and the sound of feet on treadmills he heard a long, low whistle as she got out of the car. Everything but the music came to a halt as Nike Tallent stripped the scarf from her long hair and reached back into the car for an equipment bag, giving the men a great view of her legs and then slung the bag over her shoulder.

  He couldn’t blame them for the reaction.

  “Wow,” Buck said from behind him, clearly startled as Nike Tallent walked toward the building, oblivious to the dozen or so male eyes on her behind the mirrored walls.

  Yeah, wow, was all Ty could think.

  The leathers were gone. She was definitely wearing a suit, but it wasn’t even close to the almost regulation dark-colored, tailored skirt and jacket or pantsuit most female federal agents wore. This one was brightly colored in a soft pattern of flowers, form-fitting with a flippy sort of skirt that shifted
and swayed with each movement of her legs.

  And those legs were incredible.

  She walked with the long sexy stride of a runway model, somehow making it work on her smaller stature, hips swinging. Her long wavy hair bounced on her shoulders. The breeze caught it and raised it to the sun where the sunlight picked up hints of red in the long mahogany strands.

  It was an effort for Ty to draw his eyes away from her long enough to go meet her at the door.

  By then he had his reaction under control. More or less.

  When she walked in the door he found out he was wrong.

  Ty was intrigued as those enigmatic eyes behind the yellow glasses looked up at him, her lips curved a little curiously and a little cautiously as she took his offered hand.

  “Nike. Welcome aboard," he said.

  He dropped his hand to the small of her back to urge her forward into the central room.

  Nike hadn’t expected that it would be Ty himself who would greet her, she’d thought it would have been Buck or maybe even Mitch.

  Sunlight from the high atrium windows glowed brilliantly on his silvery hair and made his eyes seemed that much bluer. He looked incredible, the light accentuating his high cheekbones and the hollows beneath them. It was clear he was comfortable here; he’d pushed the sleeves of his light crewneck sweater up to reveal strong forearms. Her breath caught a little and her heart gave a sudden hard thump.

  It suddenly seemed as if there wasn’t enough air in the room.

  “This is incredible space,” she said softly.

  However aware Nike was of that evanescent touch she was, she was breathless for another reason as she looked around.

  The building was a complete surprise. She was accustomed to most federal buildings being stolid, dark and granite, huge and heavy, not this bright airy structure of glass and steel. Broad and filled with light, the birch paneling of the entryway opened outward slightly and somehow didn’t make you feel enclosed.

  This looked more like a software development company.

  “Byron Hood’s idea,” Ty answered, as he escorted her into the central meeting area. “He said only mushrooms work well in the dark, in more ways than one. So the building was designed to his specifications.”

  By the sound of the approval in his voice it was a philosophy he agreed with. So did she.