Unstoppable (The Untouchable Series)

by Skaggs, Cindy

  “He has a pulse,” the deputy whispered.

  Relief washed over her. She was okay with Mick taking out a lowlife drug dealer like Wayne, a fact that should worry her—she was supposed to protect all life—but Wayne had threatened two of the three most important people in her life. With a shaking hand, she pushed hair out of her eyes. Wayne’s life or death meant nothing to her. The deputy cuffed Wayne and stayed back to guard while the rest of them moved to the next hangar.

  The report of gunfire roared louder than the howl of winter. They doubled their pace and entered Hangar Three in tight pairings. She followed the sheriff into chaos. The scene was lit like the Fourth of July. Every damned light in the hangar banished the shadows. Across an open expanse, a private plane faced nose out. Between them and the plane, three shooters hid behind a utility vehicle. The open hangar didn’t give them much space to take cover.

  Moving fast to avoid getting shot, she glanced around to find a safe position.

  The second she set eyes on Mick, her heart convulsed. Relief and fear. He crouched behind a low row of storage cabinets a few yards to her right. For protection, it sucked. One of the deputies took out the nearest shooter. The remaining shooters turned to engage the sheriff and company who scattered behind a low row of tires and toolboxes. Dez slid across the floor to land behind the cabinet with Mick.

  Relief coursed through her, and she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and touching him. The skin on his arm was chapped, but warm. It could have been so much worse. “You have a death wish?” she asked, raising her voice above the blast of gunfire.

  “What, this?” He pointed to the red, matted and frozen scarf tied around his massive thigh. “Flesh wound.”

  “Liar.” The amount of blood she followed through the snow was significant, but he was alive. His blond hair was matted, his face red and blustery, and his lips were chapped, but he was the most beautiful sight. The claws squeezing her lungs retracted, and she took her first full breath in an hour.

  “Nah.” The twisted grin turned into a quick grimace when his lip split. “Deputy Vern shoots like a girl.”

  She smacked him, because that’s what he expected. The familiar moves, the requisite teasing, eased the ache and grounded her as little else could. “Loser.”

  He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her close for a quick, hard kiss. “Took you long enough to find me.”

  She looked into his amber eyes. Clear and focused. The fears eating her up inside diminished. “Had to deal with the crime scene from hell. What’s with all the tracks out back of Peg’s house?”

  “Wanted them to think Peg and the kid had left.” Of course he had stayed behind to take the heat, because that’s the kind of man he was. Ugh. Next thing she knew, her heart would go pitter-pat. In the middle of a freaking shootout. Could she get any sappier? She was making herself sick. Dez peeked around the edge of the cabinet, but nothing had changed. The sheriff’s men were pinned.

  Mick gripped a gun in his right hand. In all the time she’d known Mick, he had never used a weapon. His size generally got him out of situations, but the only way out of a gunfight was with a gun. “Get that from Wayne?”

  He nodded. “He put up a fight.”

  And even bleeding and frozen, Mick had come out on top. Maybe the man was invincible. Nate, on the other hand was not. “Where’s Nate?”

  While the sheriff engaged the shooters, the large hangar door opened to the right, the sound of mechanicals drowned by the staccato of gunfire. “Haven’t seen Nate since they dumped me in the snow. Best guess.” He gestured across the hangar. “The jet.”

  “Great. The one starting engines?”

  He nodded, eyes sober. “The one on the other side of the shooters.”

  Who risked their lives like these numbnuts? Didn’t they realize Sully would leave them hanging while he flew off? “Is Sully on the plane?”

  “No idea.”

  And there was still no evidence the bastard was even on the flight. “Fan-freaking-tastic.”

  “We can’t wait for the sheriff to take these guys out.”

  “Mick, you’re on the injured reserve list.” He wasn’t operating at full capacity, and in this situation, even a marginal delay could get him killed.

  “Nate is on that plane.” His eyes tightened. “It’s like Tommy all over again.”

  The thunderous pops and their echoes from the gunfight made it hard to talk, but she’d heard what he said. “Wrong answer, Donovan. This is one fight you’re staying out of.” She couldn’t lose him. That moment in the snow when she’d seen all his blood. Never again would she endure that kind of fear and loss.

  “I respectfully disagree. Detective.” He peered around the toolbox.

  The remaining shooters had a better position. They could kill anyone stupid enough to move into the open. Between them, they kept the sheriff’s men pinned.

  “Fuck it.” Mick stood and raced back the way they’d come. Out the door. Shit, yeah. Weaving like a drunk trying to avoid getting shot, she raced to the outside behind him. Hitting a moving target wasn’t as easy as they made it seem on television, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Mick was ahead of her by several yards, headed around to the airfield side of the hangar. The injury didn’t seem to be slowing him down. He was operating on pure strength of will.

  He moved with the single-minded purpose of a predator. He’d hunted Sully for years, and not a single doubt slowed his steps as he raced full bore to the other side of the building. Dez went slower, watching his six. A blast of gunfire behind her sent her heart slamming against her chest. Gun out, she whipped around to see the sheriff standing over a guy in a mechanics uniform. “Watch your back next time,” the sheriff barked as he handcuffed the man and confiscated his weapon. “Move out,” he ordered.

  They moved as a pair around the hangar and past the opening to come out on the far side of the private jet whose engines roared. Mick was nowhere in sight, but the door to the jet was open. Yeah, he’d have gone without backup. He wanted Sully with a determination bordering on obsession.

  “The kid on the plane?” Jerry yelled above the wind and the sound of jet engine.

  “Probably.”

  He motioned for her to go right. “Go get your witness. I’ll take care of these two.”

  Staying low, she entered the plane at a crouch. The plane jerked forward to slowly taxi from the hangar. The interior opened up more than a commercial jet, but the door had her coming in behind an oversize beige seat. Mick stood between the aisles, aiming the gun toward the front. Peeking between the seats, she saw Nate’s terrified face with a gun to his head. Patrick Sullivan held it. The ruddy-face prick threatened his own son, the one he had killed multiple people to get his hands on. She would never understand sadistic bastards like Patrick Sullivan and Nick Calvetti. It wasn’t simply that they lacked empathy. They lacked humanity.

  The plane lurched from the hangar. In the open now, headed toward the runway. Wind whipped at her back. The stunned look on Nate’s face froze her momentarily. As it did Mick.

  “Put the gun down or I kill the kid,” Sully said. The SOB probably thought he’d get away with killing Mick and disposing of his body. He might be right. No one at the hangar had even seen Sully. If he succeeded in killing her and Mick, he’d walk because he was the invisible fucking man. But the man was so focused on Mick, he didn’t know she was there. No way was she going down without a fight.

  Staying low, she laid a hand on the back of Mick’s leg to let him know she was there. He didn’t so much as flinch. Had he felt her? He inched to the opposite side, putting the seats between him and Sully. “Fine.” He lifted his hands up and aimed the weapon at the ceiling.

  “Not good enough. Drop it.”

  No, no, no. Never drop your weapon.

  Time stopped, her heart stopped, her breathing stopped. Mick would do it. He’d give his life for Nate’s. She was an idiot to ever believe he’d use Nate as bait. The blue-eyed boy was Mick�
�s redemption. Mick dropped the gun.

  Oh, hell no.

  Sully fired as Mick dropped. Which happened first? Had bullet impacted flesh? She didn’t have time to think. Training and muscle memory commanded her reaction. She rose, aimed at Sully’s chest. “Drop,” she yelled at Nate. Terror in his eyes, he took one look at her and did exactly as she said.

  Sully’s eyes widened in surprise. The moment expanded and slowed. Sound evaporated as her focus became laser sharp. Sully shifted to aim at her, but his shot went wide as he was still moving. Dez didn’t falter. Her first two shots hit his chest in a tight grouping. Nate crawled down the aisle as she emptied her clip. The plane jolted to a stop sending Sully’s body smacking into the cockpit door. A blood trail followed his body to the ground. Eyes wide open.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Dez ejected the clip and rammed another into position. Muscle-memory and self-preservation, but no new threat emerged. Sound rushed in like air in a vacuum. First the wind whipping through the door. Sirens.

  She moved around the seat to get a good look at the suspect. Habit had her kicking his gun out of reach, but the move proved unnecessary. Patrick Sullivan was dead. Her legs trembled, threatened to buckle as the emotional weight hit her full in the face. They’d been chasing the invisible man for as long as she’d been on the team, and he’d always been out of reach. She leaned heavy against the seat or she might have fallen to her knees. He was no longer invisible. No longer unstoppable.

  Dead. Her pulse jumped. She didn’t celebrate the event, but she didn’t mourn him, either. He’d been evil. It took three heartbeats for that thought to sink in. Had been. Past tense.

  This was… Epic.

  It was Nate’s cries that pulled her from her stupor.

  Mick’s immense body pinned Nate against the bulkhead. Nothing and no one would get to the kid unless they went through Mick. Tears hit the back of her eyes, and her legs gave out. Relief that they were both still alive. How was she supposed to resist a man who risked it all for a kid he barely knew? She slid to the ground and crawled across the aisle to two of the most important people in her life. Mick and Nate. The operation had changed her life at the speed of a spent bullet. The important people in her life had gotten more important. The bullshit from her past was finally put to rest.

  Mick rose to a seated position, resting his back against the bulkhead. His eyes were closed in exhaustion. Nate followed, tucking himself under Mick’s mighty arm. It was a pretty good spot, she acknowledged as she took residence on the other side. Not much got through Mick.

  The sheriff was the first to climb on board. He took one look at them and shook his head. “I can’t wait to write this report.”

  They must have looked a mess. Nate’s face was wet and snotty. Dried blood coated his hands. Mick was windblown, for once not a good look on him. His skin looked sunburned from the wind and cold, his long hair was knotted, and blood covered him from hip to boot. The scarf wrapped around his thigh looked like something out of a warzone.

  “Well, that was fun.” Sarcasm felt as right as ending Sully’s reign. Dez reached across to grab one of Nate’s hands. “You okay?”

  He shrugged, looking like Mick in miniature. The gaze he lifted to Mick was one of pure adulation. “We’re fine.”

  Those words released something inside her. The shivers started and wouldn’t stop even when Mick wrapped an arm over her shoulder.

  Deputies arrived on scene and escorted the pilots off. The sheriff bagged Dez’s weapon for the second time in as many days. Standard protocol for an officer involved shooting.

  And then Blake and Logan arrived on scene, both in suits and ties. Blake glanced between them with a knowing glint in his eye. “You kids look cozy.” Blake was her partner and Mick’s best friend. They’d worked together for years to take down Patrick Sullivan’s drug trade.

  “A little late for the cavalry,” she said.

  “We hitched a ride with the DEA.” Blake grinned, and it felt so damn good to see. It felt like an eternity since they’d seen each other, even though it had only been a few days since the sting on Patrick Sullivan had failed and their operation had gone down in flames. “Wait until you see what they pulled out of the cargo hold.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Oh yeah. Christmas came early my friends. Lots of—” He glanced at Nate. “Brown sugar.” A street name for heroin, brown sugar in high quantities meant they’d been right about this being one of the stops on Sully’s drug route.

  Mick lifted an arm to fist bump Blake. “Any way we can blow off debrief?”

  Dez rubbed Mick’s good leg. “He needs to get to a hospital.”

  “An ambulance is en route.”

  “Hell, no,” Mick growled. “I’m going to Dr. Diane’s hospital or I’m not going at all.”

  At the mention of Diane, Nate’s eyes started leaking again. “Please.”

  “Talk to the boss,” Blake said, pointing to Logan.

  “Interim agent in charge,” Logan said with an eye roll. The man had been spending too much time with his soon to be stepson. “While we investigate Stiles.”

  “Wait, why is that a bad thing? Isn’t it a promotion?”

  “You’d think so,” Logan said, his eyebrows pinched together in a frown. “But I’m sure it’s meant as punishment. No one’s real happy with the task force right now, given the public failures, shoot outs, and now Stiles’s suspected collusion with Sullivan.”

  “Suspected?”

  Logan shrugged. “Every man deserves a fair trial.”

  “Bullshit,” Blake coughed.

  Logan just shook his head. “I’m not sure I’m ready to work with you three.”

  He said three. The by the book FBI agent, uptight Logan, included Mick in their midst. Her smile felt beauty pageant big. “So what do you say, boss? Can you spring us?”

  She nudged Nate who looked up through wet lashes. “Please.”

  “You guys are going to give me gray hair before my wedding.” Logan shook his head like he’d taken an uppercut and was trying to clear the ringing in his ears. “I’ll talk to the DEA to see if they can taxi you back, but Mick, you need to see the EMTs and get clearance to fly.”

  The EMTs were happy to patch Mick up enough so he wouldn’t bleed out on the flight. They wanted him gone. The locals viewed Dez and Mick with a little awe and a lot of distrust. Their quiet mountain town had never seen so much action in a very bad way. The weather cleared long enough to take off. The DEA didn’t travel as well as Patrick Sullivan’s private jet, but it was better than sitting in coach. A man like Mick needed legroom, especially with the temporary bandages the EMTs used to stabilize the wound.

  He sat across the aisle with Nate snuggled into his side. He wrapped a beefy arm over Nate’s shoulders, and they were asleep before they’d leveled off. Mick Donovan wasn’t what she’d call a soft man, but he had his moments.

  She stared at them, tired beyond words, but mindless, healing sleep eluded her. In a few hours, she’d nearly lost two people who meant the world to her. Nate had burrowed into her heart against her better judgment. Maybe she had tried to replace the son she’d given up for adoption. Maybe she had been seeking redemption, but that had passed with each hour spent in Nate’s company. He was his own person, a smart, sarcastic, mini-adult with a pure heart. She didn’t want to be his mother. He deserved someone soft and maternal like Diane, someone who would help him resume his normal life. None of those attributes resembled Dez. She smiled. She would, however, make a kick-ass auntie.

  She glanced over at the boy, a blond for the moment. Sleeping under Mick’s protection, he resembled the big guy. If they spent much time together, the kid would probably start talking in that slow measured way that made Mick authoritative. She’d always listened to him, because he didn’t blow smoke. What Mick said was the unvarnished truth, hard to hear but easier to deal with than lies. So what was the truth of their short-lived relationship?

  Was it even a relation
ship? Or a friends-with-benefits thing? They’d talked about it before they hit the sheets, had agreed no strings. They’d take a ride while it lasted, and then everything went back to normal. Dez didn’t know if she could go back to just friends with Mick. If he so much as looked at another woman, she’d rip out his heart with her bare hands. She loved him. Every hard angle, every muscle, every shadow.

  Blake stepped between the aisles, blocking her view. He motioned for her to scoot to the next seat. “Move over.”

  She complied, but every muscle in her body moaned in protest. Damn, even her hair hurt. “I’ve never been more afraid in my life,” she told her partner. “I thought both Mick and Nate were goners.”

  “It’s about time,” he said, dropping into the seat she’d just vacated. He stretched his legs, crossing his black boots under the seat in front of them.

  “About time for what?”

  “You to feel something.”

  “What are you talking about?” Her pulse increased. Fear. Why was her first response to emotion fear?

  “You’ve been going through the motions since you joined the team.”

  “I’ve given 110 percent to the team.”

  “Sure you have. You put your body on the line every day.”

  “Damn right.” Dez stomped the floor to emphasize her words. “I’ve given everything.”

  “Except yourself.”

  She bit back the curses she wanted to hurl at him. The muscles in her throat tightened so she could barely breathe. She leaned forward to rest her head against the back of the seat in front of her. Man, she was so freaking tired.

  Blake rubbed her back absently. “Did you know Mick has had the hots for you since day one?”

  “No.” Yes. “Maybe. I don’t know. He said something about the dress I wore that first operation.”

  “You could have owned him that night, but that’s not your speed. Instead, if memory serves, we went back to my place and you tried to drink him under the table.”