Delta Force: Crow (Wayward Souls)

by Kris Norris

  He leaned in close, doing his best to ignore her scent. The one he’d been breathing in this entire time and couldn’t forget if someone put a damn gun to his head. “Enough. I get that you’re angry. That things ended poorly. That you don’t want to listen to my side, but you can’t stand there and say that I ever treated you as anything other than an equal. That I ever doubted you’d have my back, even if you don’t believe I’ll have yours.”

  He eased away, giving his shirt a sharp tug before he used his hands to fist her hair—give in to the urge to taste her mouth. “Yes, I infiltrated the facility. Though, technically, Six knocked out Carl, and Kam rigged the fire alarms. But I was there. And, if I’d thought, for one second, that us being in the same room wouldn’t have gone the way it did in Smithers’ office—the way we’ve been at each other’s throats these past ten days—I would have risked the damn mission and asked for your help. But I know you better than you want to believe, sweetheart. And we didn’t have the luxury of us going a few rounds before getting the information we needed.”

  Another step back, and damn if that step didn’t cost him. Didn’t use up the last of his resolve. Didn’t have him tensing every muscle to stop from moving back to her side. From forcing her to listen to what he needed to say. To explain. “Now, are we done? Or do we need to have a bit of hand to hand, first?”

  Devlyn stared at him, either too shocked or too angry to speak. To do anything other than breathe. Which was a mark above where he was at, barely holding it together enough to suck in one quick breath after another. Christ, the woman unhinged him in a way no one else ever could. Scared him through to his soul. All those missions—nearly dying—and nothing got to him the way she did. Made his emotions scatter until his damn heart felt like a grenade inside his chest, just seconds away from exploding.

  A throat cleared behind him, and he turned. Gibson was leaning against the wall, again, the man’s gaze alternating between Crow and Devlyn.

  Gibson grinned. “Damn, you two are like Coen and Finley. Either you’re gonna kill each other, or we should all leave so you can make good use of one of the walls.”

  Crow groaned, scrubbing his hand down his face. “Really, Gib?”

  “That’s what Coen says, all the damn time.”

  “And, yet, he hasn’t killed you. The man truly is a saint.”

  “You’re just sore because I’m right.”

  “You’re really not helping, Gibson.”

  “What’s not helping is standing around here, doing nothing.” Devlyn smoothed her hands down her sweater. “We need to go before we Slader discovers that building through some other means.”

  Crow crossed his arms over his chest. “Can we at least discuss a plan before we run into that warehouse, guns blazing?”

  “I thought guns blazing was the plan.”

  “Don’t worry, mate. We’ve got all the interior intel we need from that disk. And, since it’s clear you won’t be satisfied with whatever recon we can do from the street, I’ll call in a favor—get a buddy to do a quick sweep of the place from a satellite. Send it to my phone. Get an idea if we’re being watched.” Gibson focused on Dev as he nodded at her. “How about you ride shotgun. We can shove Crow in the back.”

  Devlyn smiled, thanking Cannon when the man handed each of them a Kevlar vest before slipping her arm through Gibson’s when he offered her his elbow. “I’m all for that.”

  Crow groaned inwardly as the tightened the straps. Great. Just what he needed. Gibson charming Devlyn—making Crow look like more of an ass than she already thought he was.

  Crow sighed as they headed out the door, then into Gibson’s Toyota. He sat in the back, listening to Gibson chat with Devlyn, occasionally slipping in the odd charming remark or joke. And, every time Dev laughed or smiled, Crow’s stomach clenched. Along with his hands. His jaw—his whole damn body. Not that Gib was doing anything wrong. In fact, he was doing everything right. Easing the tension. Making Dev feel like one of the team. Crow hadn’t missed the way she’d kept her arms crossed most of the time she’d been around his buddies. She’d felt out of place.

  But not now. Not with Gib. And damn if that didn’t irk the hell out of Crow. Mad at himself, not his friend. For not being the one to make her laugh. Smile. To help her feel at ease when he’d noticed how tense she’d been. That he’d single-handedly carved the giant chasm between them and had little chance of ever bridging it.

  Gib glanced in the mirror, frowning when he caught Crow’s gaze—glare, more likely. He slowed to a stop a couple of blocks away from the building, twisting enough to address him. “Crow? Mate, you okay?”

  “Fan-freaking-tastic. So, you get anything from this buddy of yours?”

  Gibson studied him for a few moments then held up his phone so both Crow and Devlyn could see as he flipped between the photos. “First of all, can I just say that this bloody city has more warehouses than it does churches and cafés added together?”

  Crow released a slow breath. “Can we focus on the mission, Gib?”

  “Fine, chum. This image was taken two minutes, ago. Everything looks benign to me. Though, if Slader’s got any kind of strategic sense, he’d make it extremely hard for us to pick up on his presence.”

  Crow studied the photo then glanced at the building. “Not a lot of options to hide more than a couple of men close to the warehouse, other than inside. No suspicious vehicles within a block.” He indicated for Gib to change the image. “What kind of radius are we looking at?”

  “Two kilometers. That’s just over a mile for you Americans. And, with the way the warehouse is situated, a sniper would need to nest on top of a roof to even have a chance at making a shot.”

  “Agreed. And there’s nothing on the rooftops within that distance. Definitely a good sign. It would take a hell of a marksmen to get off a quality shot beyond that. I, personally, only know one guy who’d even stand a chance.”

  “That’s one more than I’m familiar with.” Gib pointed to the east side of the warehouse. “Based on the schematics on that disk, there’s a maintenance door over there. Should give us a bit of cover before venturing into the main fray of things. Just in case.”

  “Us?” Devlyn looked from Gib to Crow then back. “Does that mean we’re all going in?”

  Gibson shifted his eyes just enough to catch Crow’s attention before smiling. “I was thinking—”

  “You should go in with Gibson.” Crow met her wide-eyed gaze. “I’ll stand watch, just to be safe.”

  She blinked a couple of times, looking between them, again, before arching a brow. “You’re gonna keep watch?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Voluntarily?”

  “I thought you’d be happy not having to wait here or go inside with me.”

  She frowned. “I am, it’s just… It’s not like you.”

  “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought.”

  “To be honest, after everything that’s happened, I’m not sure I knew you, at all.” She grabbed the handle then stepped out, staring at him when he followed suit. “We’ll radio if we find anything.”

  Crow merely nodded. “Stick to the shadows, and for god’s sake, stay out of Gibson’s way if he starts throwing knives around. The guy’s crazy.”

  Gibson chuckled, maintaining eye contact when Devlyn shifted off to one side. Crow held Gibson’s gaze, ensuring the other man got the message. There wasn’t a chance in hell he was leaving Devlyn alone, either outside or in. And he wanted Gib to know exactly what he expected of his buddy should things get crazy in there.

  Gibson glanced at Devlyn’s back then looked at Crow. He didn’t say anything but the message was clear. He’d keep Devlyn safe or die trying. Exactly what Crow had been thinking.

  Gibson stepped forward, slipped a silencer in Crow’s hand. “Just in case.” Then, he turned to Devlyn, gently palming the small of her back. “Ready, love?”

  Did he have to call her love? Sure, the man called every wom
an, love, but damn it… It just added to the fire burning beneath Crow’s skin. Especially, with the way it made Devlyn blush. As if she enjoyed the endearment. The same way she’d blushed when Crow had first called her sweetheart in Smithers’ office. Now, she looked as if she wanted to stab him whenever he used the term.

  “Hell yeah, I’m ready.” She stared pointedly at Crow. “Nothing I want more than for all of this to be over.”

  Crow snagged her elbow, holding her still for one more moment. “Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart. It might just come true.”

  Chapter Nine

  Now was not the time to focus on Crow’s words. To hate the fact that he might have seen through her bluff. Because, the sad truth was, she wasn’t close to wanting it over. At least, not the part where Crow was back in her life. Devlyn wasn’t sure why. He’d proven, yet again, that he didn’t value what they’d had the way she had. Otherwise, he would have asked for her help two months ago, instead of hiding. Undoubtedly using some old codes to sneak into the facility and retrieve whatever intel he’d needed.

  Of course, knowing he’d been right about how she would have reacted hadn’t helped console her. And she wasn’t proud of the fact that she likely would have turned his ass in, if for no other reason than to make him hurt even a fraction of the amount she’d been hurting. Still was, if she was being honest with herself.

  All of which made her skin feel a bit too tight. Had her second guessing every decision. She’d been certain both men would insist she stay outside. And the fact Crow hadn’t made her wonder if he knew something she didn’t. If he and Gibson had shared some kind of unspoken look only soldiers understood. If they knew Slader was on his way and were doing everything within their power to keep her out of the mix.

  Gibson nudged her when they stopped at the door. “You all right?”

  Great. Now, Gibson was questioning her sanity. “Fine. Why?”

  He snorted as he placed a small unit beside the lock on the door, tapping a few buttons before shrugging. “I can see why you’ve got a thing for Crow. You two are a lot alike.”

  “Had a thing for Crow. And I’m nothing like him.”

  Another snort. “Right. You’re not stubborn, impetuous or hell-bent on payback. What was I thinking? And there’re definitely no residual feelings, yeah?”

  She frowned when the door’s lock clicked over. “None.”

  Gibson grabbed the handle, meeting her gaze. “You know, you’re as lousy a liar as he is. And you two are anything but over, love. Ready?”

  Devlyn pushed aside the irritating thoughts, silently following Gibson into the building. Getting upset over the situation with Crow was pointless, especially, if this lead panned out and their time together ended. While she wanted to believe he’d find a reason to hang around—force her to listen to him—she knew it was only wishful thinking. And god knew she hadn’t given him any new reasons to stay. Had all but shoved that knife in his heart like she’d threatened.

  Better to focus on the mission. On doing everything she could to see that Ian Slader got what he deserved. And it wasn’t a nice, safe prison cell. She wanted him eliminated. Permanently.

  Guilt gnawed at her gut. Wanting that form of retribution didn’t sit well with the agent part of her. The one who had pledged to uphold the law above all else. It wanted to feel the cold slide of her handcuffs go around his traitorous wrists. See his silhouette marred by bars. Know she’d taken away what he valued most—his freedom.

  But the girl he’d left for dead on that train platform wanted more—needed more. She needed to see his blood stain the pavement, just like hers had. Watch his skin fade as the life drained out of him. That girl wanted Slader dead. And she wanted to be the one to shoot him between his traitorous eyes.

  The thought had her inhaling. Clenching her fists as she followed behind Gibson when he darted through the door and down an adjoining hallway. Christ, maybe Crow was right to distance himself because she wasn’t sure she knew who she was, now, either. Couldn’t help but wonder if whatever piece had survived the shooting was worth sharing. If she’d lost the best part of herself that night along with half her blood volume.

  Gibson stopped at the next door, once again, giving her a raise of his brow before nodding at the handle. She replied in kind, drawing her weapon as Gib mouthed a silent countdown, finally swinging open the door then darting through.

  He went high and right while she ducked low and left. Both sweeping the area before easing up. The small utility room was deserted, a lone broom wedged into one corner.

  Gib motioned her to wait, quickly covering the several feet to another door. He pressed his ear against it then ran his fingers along the edges, hunkering down as he traced the entire outline before grunting. He repositioned his body—noticeably blocking her from any possible shot—then shoved the door open. He didn’t move, didn’t seem to breathe, until he’d cleared the area, finally waving her through.

  Devlyn glared at the man when he glanced back at her, motioning to the large room. “What happened to being partners? Or is this your way of telling me I don’t quite measure up to MI6 standards?”

  Gibson chuckled.

  “Gibson.”

  “Of course, we’re partners. And you exceed MI6 standards. I’m just accustomed to working alone. Old habits, love. But I’ll work harder at taming that.” He crossed his finger over his chest. “Promise.”

  Old habits, her ass. Now, she understood why Crow hadn’t put up a fuss about staying behind. Why Gibson was dancing around, taking chances. They were protecting her. Whether they’d talked before they’d left or done some soldier eye glance thing she didn’t know. But she was certain Gib would go to extreme measures to keep her safe.

  She moved forward, opened her mouth to call the man on it, when his phone pinged. He detoured to a pocket of thick shadows lining one side before stealing a quick glance at the screen.

  Dev nudged his arm. “Well?”

  Nothing but a frown as he scrolled through some images.

  “Gibson?”

  He huffed, glancing at her. “Not sure. My buddy just texted me. There was a flash of thermal on the roof of one of the buildings outside our perimeter.”

  “Sniper?”

  “Possibly, but…” He shook his head. “It’s about three kilometers off. Not the kind of nest location for a viable shot. And it was only visible for a second. Area seems clear, now. And since snipers don’t just disappear…” He flipped through some more images, tapped the screen several times, then slipped the cell back in his pocket. “We’ll be wary on the way out, just in case Slader’s planning to jump us once we’re heading back. At that distance, it makes more sense that he’d hit us after we’d thought we were safe. But it was most likely just a few birds.”

  She nodded, noting the tight press of his eyes and mouth. He obviously wasn’t convinced it was birds. But he was right. There were probably only two or three people in the world that would even attempt a hit at that distance, and the chances of Slader having one of them in his ranks was astronomical. Besides, if the man had an assassin of that caliber, surely he would had the sniper attempt a hit outside the safehouse a few days ago, when it was less than half the distance, bad angle or not.

  At least, she hoped that was the case because Crow was still outside. Alone. Vulnerable. And, despite the men agreeing that the viability for a hit was extremely low, she wasn’t willing to risk his life on that assumption.

  “Shouldn’t we warn Crow? Outside chance or not, he could be a target.”

  Gibson smiled as he started forward, again. “Already shot him a text. Not that you’re worried you’ll lose him, or anything.”

  “Are you always an ass, or am I special?”

  He grinned. “Definitely the latter.” He stopped at a set of stairs. “According to those blueprints, there’s an office upstairs at the back. My money’s on anything important being in there.”

  Dev waved at the staircase. “You might as well go first. Th
at way you can block a shot without shoving me aside. You know, in case Slader’s lying in wait at the top.”

  Gib glanced at her, brow raised.

  “Please. We both know you made some pact with Crow to keep me safe, which is why he was willing to stay behind. Why you’re blocking shots and pirouetting like a damn ballerina. Just don’t get too cocky or I’ll pop a round in your ass, myself.”

  “And you say you’re nothing like Crow.”

  He started up the steps. Fast but controlled. Completely silent. Not that she was loud, but there was a faint tap with each press of her boots, despite her efforts to the contrary. Made her realize the true extent of his training. How every movement was perfectly orchestrated. Not an ounce of energy wasted, as if he was already five steps ahead—knew how it would all play out. And she had no doubts he’d have a couple of knives tossed at any target before she could get off a shot.

  Not having to execute any emergency tactics as they reached the top was definitely a plus. Allowed her to push aside the unsettling feelings that she might just be the weak link in their little squad. That Crow had been right when he’d called her reckless.

  Gibson paused for a moment—did something on his phone—then headed for the office door several yards ahead. Devlyn followed, checking behind them until they reached the door. She kept watch while Gibson tried the handle before removing a set of lock picks. Took him less than thirty seconds to have the door open, a small mag light clearing the room. A couple more, and he had the blinds closed and the desk light on—was already rummaging through the first drawer.

  She moved over to him, looking through the lower drawer. “Do I want to know what you do for MI6? Because you move like a damn wraith and according to Crow, you kill as fast as one, too. With knives, no less.”

  Gib chuckled. “Nothing extraordinary, love. Just the usual.”

  “I’d bet my ass there’s nothing usual about you. Though, I’m sure all those moves come in handy with the ladies. Along with your charm.”