by Paige Tyler
“We haven’t really discussed that yet. To be honest with you, last night was the first time we had a chance to really talk about what we mean to each other.”
“But she knows how you feel about her, right? The most important thing is that she knows you love her,” Dylan said. “My dad is divorced, but that’s one of the things he said his relationship with my mom taught him—don’t assume you have tomorrow to say something that would be better said today. Because tomorrow might not get here.”
Okay, that was sort of profound. Like fortune-cookie profound. And true too. Jayson had learned that all too well when his parents had died in the fire four years ago. One of the biggest regrets in his life was never having had a chance to sit down and tell his parents how much he really loved them. They’d been close, but his father had been a soldier, so sharing emotions simply wasn’t something his family had done very well. And now it was too late.
While he and Layla had talked a lot last night, Jayson hadn’t said the one thing that was most important. The one thing he knew Layla really needed to hear—and that he really needed to say. But that was going to change. As soon they had some privacy, he was going to tell her exactly what she meant to him and that he was completely and hopelessly in love with her. As Dylan had said, tomorrow wasn’t a given, especially in the middle of a dangerous mission in war-torn Ukraine.
Jayson was still thinking about how he might get Layla alone for a little while after they got back to the library when she and the two teens walked over to them. Jayson couldn’t tell from the looks on their face whether they had good news or bad.
“Everyone we’ve talked to has said the same thing,” Layla said without preamble. “All political prisoners are being held in the makeshift holding cells that the militia has constructed in the basement of the RSA building. If Anya is still in the city, that’s where she’s probably being held.”
Dylan nodded enthusiastically. “Excellent! So when do we slip in and get her out?”
“You don’t.” Jayson appreciated the teen’s desire to help his girlfriend, and while he had no desire to get into it with Dylan—especially here—he had to make the kid see he had no part to play in this kind of mission. “The RSA building is going to be heavily guarded and getting in there is going to be tricky. You’re not going in. None of you are.”
“But we can help,” Mikhail protested.
“If you want to help, stay outside and provide lookout for us,” Jayson told him.
“We—” Olek started, but Dylan caught his arm.
“Jayson’s right,” he said. “We’d only get in the way if we went in with him and Layla.”
Mikhail and Olek grumbled something under their breaths but fell silent at the pointed look Dylan gave them.
Shit.
“I’m serious, Dylan,” Jayson said firmly. “I know what you’re planning on doing, but slipping into that building after we go in isn’t going to help Anya at all. You might be okay with risking your life, but are you okay with risking hers too?”
The immediate look of guilt on the teen’s face told Jayson he’d been spot-on. Dylan let out a breath and shook his head. “Okay, I’ll stay outside. But you have to promise that you’ll get her out safely.”
“If she’s in there, we’ll get her out,” Jayson said, praying God didn’t make a liar out of him.
Chapter 8
“Maybe you could have picked something a little easier for our first official mission together?” Layla said in a teasing whisper as the two militia soldiers rounded the southeast corner of the big, stone RSA building and disappeared from sight.
Jayson chuckled softly as he poked his head out of the alcove they were hiding in and looked around. “Where’s your sense of adventure? Besides, how hard can it be? We’re just going to take a little stroll through the building and break out a political prisoner. We’ll be on our way to Kiev before the sun comes up. Should be a piece of cake.”
She shook her head. They’d been there since midnight trying to get a sense of the guards’ patrol schedule. If the soldiers stayed to their routine, the street that ran along the east side of the building would be empty for another twelve minutes.
Layla was doing her best to hide it, but she was more than a little worried. She was ecstatic to find Jayson alive and well, and learn that the hybrid serum hadn’t caused any serious damage she could see. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but she was also thrilled with how things were going between her and Jayson. It wasn’t like either of them had come out and confessed their undying love and devotion for one another yet, but they’d both finally admitted how much they cared about each other. The fact that both of them had been willing to risk their lives for the other had changed everything.
Romance aside though, this mission had her freaked. Dick had violated every rule in the DCO playbook by sending an inexperienced team like Jayson and Powell out on a mission with little intel, no equipment, no backup, and no plan. It was part of the reason Layla had been so worried about Jayson in the first place.
Yet here she and Jayson were. An inexperienced team on a mission with little to no intel, no equipment, no backup, and no plan. What little they did know about the layout of the four-story RSA building they’d gotten from Mikhail. As far as gear, they were limited to the small amount of stuff they’d had on them—two 9mm pistols, a few clips of ammo each, her lock pick set, and her phone. Their backup was three teenage kids armed with cell phones. And as far as a plan? Well, Jayson had just laid it out in its entirety—slip in, find Anya, get out, then run for pro-Ukrainian territory. They were making up everything else as they went.
She couldn’t even count the number of ways this whole thing could go wrong.
“Smell anything?” Jayson asked softly.
Layla pushed her negative thoughts aside, closed her eyes, and let her sense of smell kick into high gear.
People with normal senses never realized how noisy the world really was when it came to all the external stimuli that existed around them every day. But shifters knew, and if they didn’t figure out how to deal with that stimuli, it was easy to become overwhelmed with all of the sights, sounds, and smells out there. For people like her, a walk through a quiet park could seem like a commute through Times Square during rush hour. And the actual Times Square? That was more like a walk through hell. A really loud, bright, and smelly hell.
So learning how to dial down the sensitivity of their external senses like vision, hearing, and smell was something every shifter—and hybrid too, she supposed—had to do early on after they went through their change. Unless they enjoyed living with their heads in a sight, sound, and smell kaleidoscope, of course. Layla didn’t. Fortunately, she had a sister to learn from, which had made it a lot easier and faster for her.
Layla had always thought of it like putting on a motorcycle helmet, one that would blunt the worst of the incoming sights, sounds, and smells. At times, when she needed to use her abilities to their fullest, she envisioned lifting the visor of the helmet. Like now.
Thousands of scents immediately came rushing in, almost knocking her on her butt. She gripped the edge of the wall as they all hit her nose at once, fighting to be sorted, identified, and catalogued.
“You okay?” Jayson asked, putting his hand on her shoulder to steady her.
She nodded. “Yeah. There are just a lot of smells to take in. I’m good now.”
Giving him a reassuring smile, she stepped out of the alcove and inhaled deeply. She immediately picked up the scent of the two soldiers who had just walked past, as well as trace smells of dozens of other people who had recently moved down this street, not to mention car exhaust, gas, oil, explosives, gunpowder, burned wood, crushed stone, sweat, and blood—lots of blood. This part of Donetsk had obviously seen a lot of violence.
On the upside, there definitely weren’t any other people heading their
way, which was the one thing she’d actually been sniffing for.
“We’re clear,” she said softly.
Jayson gave her hand a squeeze, then led the way to a Dumpster near the twelve-foot-high wall surrounding the building. According to Mikhail, there was a loading dock on this side of the RSA with a big roll-up door used for deliveries, as well as a standard door for the workers. Layla prayed one of them had been left open. Ivy had trained her a little on picking locks, but she wasn’t very good at it.
When they got to the Dumpster, Jayson stopped and waited for her to do her thing. Layla hopped up onto the edge, nearly gagging at the stench coming from the trash. She wrinkled her nose. Focusing on who or what might be on the far side of the wall was difficult with the odors bombarding her.
Jayson climbed up beside her as if he hadn’t even noticed the stench. A benefit of not having a super-smeller, she guessed.
“All clear?” he asked.
Layla sniffed the air, but it was no use. All she could smell was garbage. She closed her eyes, shut down her nose, and depended on her ears instead. It took a few moments to tune out everything else around her, but once she did, it didn’t take long to confirm that there was no one on the other side of the wall.
She opened her eyes and looked at Jayson. “Clear.”
From where they stood on the edge of the Dumpster, the wall was only four feet above them and about five feet away. While it wasn’t far, Jayson still let out a small grunt as he made the leap. She frowned as he favored his right leg, ready to jump in and help, but he got both hands on the top of the wall and pushed himself up and over.
Layla followed, leaping across the gap between Dumpster and the wall, landing on the top feetfirst. She’d considered using her hands and pulling herself up like Jayson had, but decided against it. He’d know she was holding back on his account and wouldn’t appreciate it. If they were going to be a team, there were going to be some physical things she could do that he couldn’t, even without the back injuries. He knew that.
She dropped lightly to the ground on the other side of the wall and found him waiting for her with his pistol out. She reached for hers but stopped as she picked up the scent of Jayson’s blood. She looked down at his thigh, but it was hard to tell if any fresh blood was coming through his jeans because he was already heading across the courtyard toward the door on the loading dock. She didn’t need to see blood to know it was there though. Damn, he’d torn open the bullet wound in his thigh making that jump.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t the time or place to check the wound again.
Layla pulled her cell phone from her pocket as she ran and tapped out a quick message to Dylan and the others to tell them that she and Jayson were in. The three teens had positioned themselves around the front of the RSA building so they could warn her and Jayson if they saw anything—like militia soldiers showing up unannounced.
She put her phone away, slowing when she neared the truck backed up to the loading dock. Big and white, with tarp-covered sides, it was used to transport troops around the city. Her nose told her there was no one inside it, but she stepped up on the running board to check the interior anyway. She was about to jump down when she saw the keys swinging from the ignition. Huh. The militia soldiers were obviously the trusting type—or stupid. But then again, she doubted there was anyone around here crazy enough to steal a truck from them.
Jayson was waiting for her when she reached the top of the loading dock. “The door’s locked. How are your breaking-and-entering skills?”
Layla bit back a groan as she slipped her lock pick tools out of her back pocket and dropped to one knee in front of the door. Jayson moved closer to her, keeping an eye on the northeast corner and the main entrance. If someone came back here, that’d be the direction they’d come from.
She slipped her tension wrench and pick into the lock, closing her eyes and letting her ears tell her when she’d disengaged each pin. It was a little hard concentrating with Jayson standing so close to her. The tangy odor of blood had taken a backseat to his masculine pheromones, and they were driving her crazy. She’d always had a thing for the scent he naturally put off, but since they’d gotten over a few of their relationship hurdles last night, it seemed like she was even more aware of him.
Fortunately, he didn’t try and rush her. Instead, he simply kept an eye out for trouble and let her work. She felt another pin move aside. That meant there was only one left. She wiggled her tools again. A moment later, she felt the last pin give way. She smiled. Maybe she was better at this lock picking stuff than she thought.
Putting her tools away, she opened the door just enough to take a sniff and sighed with relief. She and Jayson had been lucky so far. Sooner or later, they were going to run into the patrolling militia soldiers. The thought of a confrontation with them made her tense up all over.
“You know,” Jayson said as she got to her feet, “I think women who can pick locks are hot.”
Layla whipped her head around to give him a startled look—along with a reminder about where they were—only to smile as he teasingly waggled his eyebrows at her. Jayson had known she was nervous and cracked a joke to calm her down. It worked.
Giving her a nod, he opened the door and slipped inside, taking point. Layla drew her pistol and followed. Of course, if they ended up having to shoot somebody in there, the rescue mission was going to be cut way short. One gunshot would probably bring twenty soldiers running. It would be damn near impossible to save Anya if they were busy trying to save themselves.
They crossed through a big open area filled with pallets. Most held office supplies, but there were also boxes of bottled water, military rations, and small arms ammunition. Because obviously, everyone in Donetsk stored their food and ammo together.
From there, they headed down a long, central corridor, looking for the stairs to the basement. Even though she and Jayson had never trained together, they moved well as a team. They covered each other smoothly as they slipped past each intersection, not having to say a single word to communicate what they were doing. Another indication of how in tune they were with each other. She’d never been in such perfect sync with anyone like she was with him.
They had to duck into offices twice to avoid roaming soldiers, but luckily, Layla could hear when they were coming, so she and Jayson never came close to getting caught. He never hesitated or questioned her judgement, which was nice. Not that she thought he would, but her sister had told her horror stories about her former partners who hadn’t respected her shifter abilities at all.
Just to be on the safe side, she and Jayson avoided the main staircase in the center of the building as well as the elevator and kept searching until they found a set of steps leading to the basement in the far corner of the building. It turned out that there were actually three floors beneath the main one. They passed by first two and headed to the very bottom.
“If they’re keeping people prisoner in here, they’d want to keep them as far away from everyone else as possible,” Jayson said.
Layla silently agreed.
When they got to the door at the bottom of the stairwell, she opened it a crack to take a peek and quickly closed it again. Crap.
“There are two soldiers in the hallway,” she told Jayson softly.
He cursed. “How far away?”
“About fifteen feet maybe. They’re standing side by side, one a little closer to us than the other.”
“They’re standing guard,” Jayson murmured. “That has to be where they’re holding Anya.”
“How are we going to deal with them without bringing everyone else down here?” she whispered. “One gunshot and we’re done.”
Jayson didn’t say anything right away; then his mouth curved up as an idea came to him.
“What?” she prompted.
“Do you think you can distract them for a little while?” he asked.
She frowned. “How?”
He chucked softly. “These are guys we’re talking about here. If you do this right, you won’t need to say a word. Trust me.”
Layla resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she figured out what her part in the plan was. She supposed she couldn’t fault his logic. They each brought a certain set of skills to the team, and using her feminine wiles to distract a guy—or two—was definitely in her wheelhouse.
She went up on tiptoe and gave Jayson a kiss. “Don’t do anything crazy.”
“You either,” he said. “Be careful. And don’t worry—I’ve got you covered.”
* * *
The urge to follow Layla when she opened the door and walked out of the stairwell a few moments later was nearly overwhelming. Layla might have some special weapons of her own—namely claws, fangs, and strength way beyond a person of her size—but she’d be the first to admit she didn’t have a lot of experience with hand-to-hand combat.
She moved so silently that she was almost upon the soldiers before they even realized she was there. They both jumped, clearly startled by her presence.
“Kak dyela?” she said in the sexiest Russian accent he’d ever heard.
Jayson didn’t know what she’d said, but whatever it was, the soldiers relaxed. One of them said something in reply, making his buddy chuckle. Layla laughed too, moving around in front of them so the soldier closest to Jayson had to turn his back to the stairwell to look at her.
Jayson was out the door and moving down the hallway fast, pistol at the ready. Layla was smiling at the two soldiers, nodding at something they were saying. The men were playing it cool, their rifles still slung over their shoulders. Jayson couldn’t see their faces, but he had no doubt they had big grins pasted on them. And Layla had been worried she wouldn’t be able to distract them. What a joke. She had them eating out of the palm of her hand.
