Hart Attack

by Cristin Harber

  “Ten-four,” Parker muttered.

  Roman ran across the street, weaving between wide-eyed people. “I’m going in. Cash, find me.”

  “The fuck you are!” Jared yelled. “Heads up. Buyer, seller exiting the building. Parker, drones stay with those vehicles. Team one, you’re a go to intercept.”

  “Roger that,” Brock responded. “Move out.”

  Roman bit back his response to those orders. They were the right ones for the greater good: neutralize any future potential nuclear attacks. But that didn’t make him any less sick over the team splitting up to follow two vehicles, leaving Beth with a serious lack of help. Fuck it. It was fine by him. It would be better for him to go one-on-one with Naydenov. He was going to kill that motherfucker.

  “Damn it.” Cash sounded as though he was packing his gear on the quick. “If he goes in, I’m right there with him.”

  “Stand down, Roman,” Jared ordered.

  Naydenov’s angry words crackled in the earpiece. “Who do you work for?”

  “No one.” Her voice was stronger. His girl was back on her game. “Freelance.”

  Naydenov laughed. The sound was louder. They were standing close to each other. Roman would tear him apart, limb by limb, if a curl on her head was touched.

  “My Beth,” Naydenov continued, “was a DC princess who could recite textbook art history facts. Not a woman with her hands on nuclear codes.”

  His Beth? Roman’s teeth ground together.

  “They were not my codes. Like I said, I’m freelance. And I could ask the same of you. Why’s an investment banker here?”

  “Lying bitch.”

  “I know why I’m here.” Her confidence scared Roman to death. “The ones who don’t make sense are you and Evan.”

  The sound of a slap had Roman on the move again. He closed in on the door.

  “You’ve been working me over,” Naydenov snarled. “Whore.”

  She grunted. Rustling noises followed.

  “Get your hands off me.”

  “Who do you work for?”

  “Go to hell.” She let out a loud Oomph, making Roman think she was thrown to the floor or hit.

  “CIA?” Naydenov’s voice was farther away. “I’ve had my suspicions about Evan. Maybe you were too good to be true. Though”—feedback drowned out a few words—“you and Evan to be here.”

  Another slapping noise followed by another grunt from Beth made Roman’s mind race. But if he went in there and Naydenov had a weapon pointed at her, a sloppy trigger finger could end her—and him, because he’d be ruined. He decided to go in but hang back until the scene was scoped.

  Gun in hand, Roman entered the building, rounded a corner, and fired two shots, taking out two armed, unsuspecting guards. Slowly, Roman crept up the stairs, still listening to the showdown.

  “If not CIA, then who?”

  “Freelance, you asshole.” More struggling noises. “Get off my—”

  “Drone’s got eyes,” Parker called. “Hand to hand. No one else visible.”

  “Wait for Cash, then you’re a go, Roman.”

  “Just behind you,” Cash whispered. “Thirty seconds.”

  “Something’s going down,” Parker said. “He’s patting her down or copping a feel. I don’t know which.”

  “What’s this?” Naydenov’s voice was suddenly crystal clear. “A comm piece? This to your bulldog?” Greg laughed loudly into the receiver. “Who do we have on the other end?”

  Roman heard more grunts, feminine and masculine. She was giving as good as she was taking. Glass shattered. Furniture broke. Both were yelling. Cash appeared in the hallway.

  “And…” Naydenov’s panting said Beth had been holding her own. “Here’s the mic.”

  “Fuck you!” she screeched.

  Skin slapped skin, and Naydenov shouted, “Not interested anymore!”

  “Ass—”

  Parker cut in. “Choke hold.”

  Naydenov growled into the mic, “I have your Beth. What are we going to do about it?”

  All of Titan stayed radio silent. Roman looked at Cash and then at the door. Cash nodded.

  Roman said, “Naydenov. Let’s talk.”

  Naydenov’s harsh laugh cackled through the earpiece. “Of course. You’ve come to save your girl.”

  “Something like that. Let’s deal.”

  “Not interested in deals.”

  Roman tried again. “But you will be interested in information.”

  “You have ten seconds to convince me. Otherwise, she’s dead.”

  Roman’s heart froze. “She wasn’t lying. She’s freelance. We both are.” He prayed then and gambled. “I’m coming in with my associate. You let her go. The three of us talk business. You clean money; we do the dirty work. I have buckets of loot that you can wash. Name your percentage.”

  “Beth stays.”

  Roman grimaced, readying to knock the door down. “Beth goes, and we tack on a new-friends bonus. I’ll hand you a million dollars. Unmarked, untraceable cash.” Roman’s hand balled and loosened then clenched again. “We’re outside the door. Let’s do this.”

  Silence.

  “Open the door, Naydenov.”

  Long seconds ticked by. No response. Cash looked at Roman, shaking his head.

  Roman ground his molars. “Look, I’ll even throw in an ‘I’m a dick, you win’ clause. I’m the dick. The asshole. Whatever you want to call it. You want the girl, you get the girl, but after we do business. Let’s talk shop.”

  “No!” Beth screamed.

  “Move!” Parker yelled at the same time.

  Roman’s reflexes were on it. Muscles tensed and tightened, he was ready to jump, run, dive. He turned, then the world exploded around them. Smoke, fire, and wood slapped his face, and he was thrown against the wall. His ears squealed. Blood coated his tongue. His eyes burned. He couldn’t see. His lungs tried. Failed. Hot embers bit his face. His eyes tried to focus. Small flames danced on the walls. Cash was next to Roman, mouth moving, but Roman couldn’t hear.

  Chunks of thick, heavy walls crumbled on top of them. His mind froze. Gasping for breath, Roman fought… against the pull…

  Darkness.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Beth’s vision went in and out as Greg dragged her around the room, arm clenched around her neck. He loosened his hold enough to grab a gun. Her eyes couldn’t focus, but her mind processed that that gun had explosive power.

  When Greg raised his arm and aimed at the door, she’d bucked and screamed. He pulled the trigger. The door exploded, and she and Greg fell, him landing on top of her. The blast had been strong, its aftereffects stronger. He must’ve fired a breaching round—not as strong as a hand grenade, but shot that close in proximity…

  “Roman!” The wall caught fire quickly. Smoke billowed. Her ears shrieked from the blast. “Roman!”

  She ducked out from under Greg. If the blast had thrown her that hard, then what had happened to Roman? She pushed onto her hands and knees, heading for the fiery, gaping space where the door had been. Black smoke filled the room. The building was made of tinder and sticks, bad place for a fire. Sweat coated her body, and sooty, hot air burned her nose.

  “Roman,” she gasped, and the acrid, burning air seared her throat. Beth sputtered and coughed, crawling toward the door. “Please.”

  “No.” Greg’s hand clasped her ankle and yanked.

  Caught off guard, Beth went down, face planting into the floor, too weak and oxygen deprived to fight. Don’t stop. She kicked her free foot, catching him with her heel.

  She wasn’t sure what she hit—his head? Shoulder? Didn’t matter. She surged forward, crawling through the fiery haze. “Roman.”

  Greg jumped on her, slamming her to the ground. He wrapped his arms around her chest and squeezed.

  Face smashed into the tile, she tried to blink away the stars exploding in her head. The lightheadedness was consuming. But on the other side of that blast zone was Roman. “Get o
ff me!”

  Greg shoved a gun under her chin. “Who are you?”

  She rolled. He rolled with her. Her weak knee to his groin missed its crotch shot. Beth’s muscles quivered from exertion and lack of oxygen. Everything felt fuzzy. Then the bastard drew back and pistol-whipped her temple. Splitting, screaming pain ripped through her head. Greg fell on top of her.

  She tried to push him off her. Roman appeared out of nowhere and dove over her, taking Greg with him. Coughing and hacking, Beth rolled behind the hutch.

  The two men fought hard. Greg’s gun was gone. Fists flew. Greg slammed Roman into a wall then searched the floor, while Roman dropped, sputtering and gasping.

  Greg straightened, holding a gun. He moved the weapon constantly, trying to stay on Roman while scanning the room. “Who are you?”

  The air was too hot. Another crash came behind them. Part of the wall came down. Roman rose to his knees and spotted her. He skittered to cover but kept his eyes on her. His mouth was moving, but her ringing ears didn’t allow any sound to come through. Was he saying Cash?

  Greg continued his inquisition. Who did they work for? Why were they there? He probably wanted to know what loose ends needed tying after he killed them.

  Roman threw a flashbang blast in the far corner. Greg shot blindly toward the bright explosion. Roman abandoned his cover, crawling toward the crumbling wall. Beth kept an eye on Greg as the man faced the wrong direction. Roman returned quickly, pulling an unconscious Cash behind him and leaving him behind a piece of furniture.

  Greg spun and fired again at the opposite wall, and Roman lunged for Beth. He grabbed her and held her close to his chest.

  He sounded ragged and wheezy. Fire spread along another wall. Roman unholstered a gun from his thigh and popped a couple rounds into the ceiling.

  “We have to go,” Beth urged.

  “Hang tight. Fuck, it’s hot.”

  “It’s getting worse.” She pulled her scarf up over her face.

  Greg thumped some rounds into the hutch.

  Roman looked at her. “Gotta get you out of here.”

  She shook her head. “Cash first.”

  “I know. Shit—”

  More shots hit the hutch. Greg’s aim—or guesswork—was getting better, and he must’ve reloaded.

  The air was too smoky, and Beth’s skin burned from the nearby fire. Would opening the windows help? Or would the fresh oxygen fuel the fire? Shit! She didn’t know what to do.

  Roman popped up then dropped down. “Where is that fucker?”

  “You have to get Cash out.”

  “You too, babe. Where… is that… fucker?” Roman mumbled. He leaned back, blood seeping from his forehead, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  They needed help. She didn’t think Titan was coming anytime soon. Those that had been near had no doubt gone after the nuke.

  “Roman, listen to me. We have to get Cash out.”

  “Know, babe. Gotta keep you alive, too. Where the fuck is Naydenov?”

  Had the smoke gotten Greg? Roman needed to hurry.

  “Roman, you have to know. Nicola. She’s—”

  “Kinda busy right now.”

  “Roman. Listen to me.” She sputtered and coughed. “Cash is going to be a daddy. You—” She coughed again, not able to stop. “An uncle.”

  His eyes widened. “What?”

  Sleep and heat were pulling her into the dark. Her mouth was dry, and her nostrils burned.

  “Beth…” His voice seemed to come from far away.

  “Nic’s pregnant,” she managed.

  Roman pushed up on one arm, looking at where he’d hidden Cash. But Beth couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore.

  A roar echoed in her ears. She knew without seeing that Roman had left her, charging off to find Greg and save Cash. More gunfire rang out. An explosion and the sound of shattering glass jolted her awake. The smoldering fires exploded into violent red and orange flames. Smoke swirled rapidly.

  Feeling far, far away, she spotted Roman standing in the inferno. He was moving Cash toward the windows. Men on ropes flew through the openings. They had Cash out before she could process that Titan had finally arrived. Then Roman was above her, around her. His strong arms lifted her to his chest and he carried her to a window.

  Three floors up, they couldn’t jump. And she didn’t know where the rappelling men had gone. Her skin sizzled. The air burned her lungs. Rough hands jostled her. They propped up her body, manhandled her head. Something wrapped around her head and—

  Air.

  She gasped. Air. Opening her eyes, she realized someone had put a mask over her face. In front of her, Roman wore one as well. They huddled on the floor, against the wall. Her throat burned, and he pulled her tighter, his grip weak but strong enough. Beth could barely hold her head up, so she stopped trying and curled into him.

  What felt like years passed, then Roman stood, pulling her up with him. He staggered to the broken window and hooked his legs outside the sill. The thump, thump, thump of a nearby chopper registered over the dull ringing in her ears.

  Roman lifted her then laid her down. Tied her down? Confusion clouded her mind.

  Roman gave a thumbs up, and she was jerked up. To the chopper. In a basket.

  It made more sense as she got her bearings. But Roman needed out more than she did. His injuries seemed worse. She tried to reach for him but her hand was restrained.

  Her mind drifted again, then she was in the chopper, out of the basket, and surrounded by familiar faces. An explosion ripped in the background, and her headache screamed.

  Beth licked her lips, trying to find the words to save the man she loved. “Please help him.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Roman had jumped for a line right before the fire hit a mother lode of weapons. It was a miracle they’d gotten out alive from a building that had gone down in flames. Now, he perched in the cramped quarters of the chopper as they flew low and fast. They would have a while until they landed, transfered to a plane, and got back in the air before a pack of armed, missile-launching rebels in a bad mood showed up to complicate their swift exit. So they were hauling ass.

  Beth had lunged at him the second he was on board, and Brock had had to peel her off to do a once-over. As soon as that was done, she’d stayed tucked against him. Other than the occasional raised eyebrow from the guys, no one said a word. Everyone’s focus was primarily on Cash, who was worse off than Roman wanted to admit.

  Jared barked orders to the team that tracked the codes and weapons. Brock hovered over Cash, complaining about his vitals and cursing when nothing changed. Roman belted Beth into a seat then moved to perch near the door.

  Every few minutes, her eyes would flit over to Cash then Roman. Tears would brim, and she would look away. They were feet apart in the chopper’s belly, but it might have well been miles. She was shutting down.

  Screw that. They would be fine. Cash wasn’t going anywhere. As sure as this day had sucked, Cash wasn’t leaving Nicola single and alone with a baby on the way. Roman’s stomach twisted. A baby… that was heavy enough to take in, but the idea that Cash didn’t know, that he wouldn’t know…

  “Needs an MRI,” Brock announced.

  Jared scowled. “What are we dealing with?”

  “Hell if I know. After recently sustaining a brain trauma? This again? Lack of oxygen? No telling. We need a—”

  “No telling what?” Roman growled at Brock.

  “We’re pushing thirty minutes.”

  “What does that matter?”

  Brock looked from Cash to Jared then back to Roman. “Get him to a hospital ’cause I don’t know what the shit we’re dealing with. Swelling, bleeding, localized, widespread? No idea.”

  “Fuck!” Roman slammed his hand on the floor.

  Beth’s face scrunched, and tears flowed down her face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  He couldn’t hear her voice, but he knew what she’d said. It was written all over her fac
e.

  Roman crawled around Jared and bent next to Brock, who was hovering over Cash. “I need a minute.”

  Brock nodded and stepped back.

  Roman bent and spoke low to Cash. “We’ve been through too much hell for this shit to take you out.” Roman dropped his head back, staring at the panel above their heads. Then he pulled his headset off. “Cash. So help me God if you leave her, I’ll—”

  “Roman, man. Don’t touch him.” Brock said.

  Roman looked down, not realizing that he had gripped Cash’s chest.

  “If he’s in there,” Brock said, “he might hear you.”

  If he’s in there? “Fuck you, Brock. He’s in there.”

  “I get it.” Brock’s hands went up. “Just don’t move him.”

  Roman looked over at Beth. She had her head turned, but he could see the tears rolling down her cheeks.

  Roman bent over Cash again. “Fight it, dude. You’re a fighter. Too strong for shit like this to bring you down.”

  He could’ve sworn Cash’s jaw flexed. Or maybe the chopper had shifted. Roman needed Cash to be okay, needed to save him for Nicola, the sister he couldn’t save when she’d abandoned him years ago. This was one of those full-circle moments, and Roman had to make it okay.

  Jared gave a thumbs-up to Brock. “We’ve got a while, but we’re okay to head to Landstuhl.”

  Roman went back to Cash. “I know you’re in there. I lost Nic once. I’m not losing my second Garrison.” If Nicola counted as a first. “She’s pregnant, buddy. You’re—” His voice broke. “Fight for your baby, for your woman.”

  Roman waited, sure Cash’s eyes would fly open. Nothing happened, and Roman’s world began to gray. He shifted so Brock could return to Cash’s side. Roman slipped his headset back on and looked at Beth. She was zoned out. The people he cared about were falling apart, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Nothing.

  Jared put a hand on his shoulder. “Roman.”

  He shrugged it off. “Back off.”

  “Easy there. Calm your—”

  Roman ignored him. He had to fix this. He bent, took the rage building inside him, and threw it at Cash. “Do not leave her, goddamn you!”