by Trish Loye
Marc hit his radio button. “Cat, one of them’s on a cell.”
“Jamming his call,” she said.
The man shook his phone and said something to the other men.
A shot ripped past Marc. One of the men outside must have seen him at the window. He returned fire. Zach and Rhys took cover and returned fire as well. Shouts could be heard upstairs. Soon they’d be fighting on two fronts. This was turning into the goatfuck he’d predicted and they hadn’t even found the agent or the solo operator yet.
“I’m going for the agent,” Marc said. Zach and Rhys nodded, and he took off for the door they’d passed in the kitchen. It was open. Movement caught Marc’s eye, and he looked out the back window.
The unknown operator had a woman over his shoulder as he ran for the wall. “Cat, do you see the backyard?”
“Fuck. I’m busy with the front, Spooky. Get that guy. He’s got our agent.” She cursed again. “Lucky and Doc, get out. They’re fanning around the far side where I can’t reach them.”
Zach and Rhys barreled down the hall to him. “We’ve got you covered,” Zach said. “Go.”
They all raced out of the house, and Marc took off after the operator who carried the woman. Shots ripped the night behind him, but Zach was true to his word.
Marc made it to the wall only steps behind the man, who spun and leveled a Glock at him. “Stay back,” he snarled in accented English.
Fuck. The man’s face was darkened with camouflage paint, but he was shorter and slighter than Marc. He should be able to take the guy easy, as soon as he got rid of the gun.
Marc raised his hands. “I’m here to help.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Who the fuck are you?” His voice lightened and held a faint burr to it and something else. A question for later.
“I’m just a soldier,” he lied smoothly. “Sent here for the extraction of that woman, and I’m the only friend you have right now.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Get to the top of the wall, and I’ll hand her to you.”
The man hesitated.
“We don’t have fucking time. Get up the wall,” Marc said.
The guy laid the agent down gently. “I’ll kill you if you don’t hand her to me,” the man said in his oddly hoarse voice. He must be trying to disguise his accent. He was doing a fair job of it, but Marc was a linguist expert, and it wouldn’t take him long to figure out what the man tried to hide.
“You can try,” Marc replied. “Now move your ass.”
The man climbed the wall while Marc gathered the woman in his arms. Even in the dark, he could see she’d been beaten badly.
“Sitrep, Spooky,” Cat demanded.
“Getting the agent clear,” he said. “Keep ’em distracted.”
“Move fast and meet us at the RV. There’s another car and truck coming down the road.”
A shit show. Marc handed the limp agent up to the man who straddled the stone wall. “Got her?”
At his nod, Marc scaled the wall and jumped clear on the other side. He lifted his arms. The man hesitated and then handed the woman back before jumping down beside them. A bullet nicked off the top of the stone wall.
“Give her back,” the man demanded.
“We’ve been spotted. We have to book it, and I’m stronger.” He eyed the guy’s weapon. “Tell me you can use that?”
“Fucking wanker. Follow me.”
The unknown soldier darted into the jungle and onto a narrow path. The man had no real accent, but his choice of words might imply a Brit. Was he an ally?
There was no sound except for their breathing and the soft padding of their footfalls. The gunfire had been left behind.
“Stop,” Marc said quietly. The man halted and scanned the area for threats before looking at him.
Marc, still holding the woman, tilted his head in a southerly direction toward the RV point. “We have to go that way. To meet my team.”
The other man shook his head. “Not gonna happen.”
What the fuck? “We can help you.”
“I don’t trust you,” he said. “Give her to me.”
Marc pulled back, and the woman in his arms moaned when he jostled her. Too loud. His instincts went on alert. Any sound could attract the men searching for them.
His comms came to life in his ear. “Spooky, we’re being overrun by Pérez’s men. A few of those mercs followed you into the jungle. Sitrep.”
He turned to look back behind him. “We’re clear for now. Get yourself out. Over.”
“Copy that. Valkyrie out.”
His instinct warned him before he turned back to the man who now had his pistol aimed at Marc’s head and stood just out of reach. So he wasn’t stupid.
“Set her down and walk away,” the man said softly, and again something about the voice made Marc’s eyes narrow. “I appreciate your help, but this is as far as you go.”
Marc could do nothing but lower the agent. “I just want to help.”
“You want to take her.”
He frowned. “Of course I do. My team and I can help her. One of them’s a medic.”
The operator waved his other hand at Marc in a motion to back up.
“They’re still after us,” Marc said. “We can’t be fucking around like this.”
“Back up now.” The man’s voice was cold steel, but the timbre had…lightened?
Marc tilted his head, trying to figure out what he was missing, even as he stepped back. “And what’s your plan now?” Marc asked. “As soon as you pick her up, I can rush you.”
“Then I’ll just have to kill you.”
Kill him?
Why the hell did she say that? She didn’t want to kill him. She just wanted him gone. But she’d said what she’d said, and now she had to bluff her way through this. Because this man spoke English like a native, moved like a trained soldier and had been sent for Natalie. Quinn didn’t want to kill him in case he was an ally, but she wouldn’t let him jeopardize their escape.
“Leave now and I won’t shoot you. Go join your friends.” Quinn kept her voice low and deep.
He studied her for a moment without saying anything. His intense gaze locked on her. Her heart beat hard as she aimed her Glock steadily at his chest.
Just fucking go.
She’d killed others—too many others—but this man had helped her. It made her reluctant—very reluctant—to do what was necessary.
“We can help her together,” he said.
She shook her head. “It wasn’t what she wanted. Now leave.”
“How do I know you won’t kill her?”
“Seriously? I just risked my ass to get her out of that compound, and you think I want to kill her?”
“Maybe you want intel first.”
And maybe that’s why he was so desperate for this agent. What was the information Natalie wanted her to retrieve? Quinn had to keep Natalie away from everyone until she could get this sorted out.
Trust no one.
Those had been Natalie’s words. This man had his own agenda. Quinn had wasted enough time and given him enough chances. “Time’s up.” She kept her voice cold and sighted on his chest, all the while praying to God he’d back down. She didn’t want to shoot him.
A bullet hit the tree next to her.
“Shit. They’ve found us.” The man scooped up Natalie and, ignoring Quinn’s gun, took off into the jungle.
Worse, he was going the wrong way. He ran south, away from her car and probably toward his team. If he made it to them, she’d never get Natalie back.
More shots ripped past them. No time to think about that now. Quinn whirled and fired back before she followed the man again. He sprinted through the bush.
She raced behind him off her path and into the dark. Branches hit her in the face and snagged her clothing. She stumbled over a root. The soldier carried Natalie but still managed to put distance between them. He had on NVGs while she crashed blindly through the dense jungle.
She pushed hard to
catch up, barely seeing him as a moving shadow amid the darkness of the undergrowth. She kept close enough that she could grab his shirt if she wanted, jumping when he did and dodging when he did.
He pulled up near yet another fallen log. “We need to hide her,” he said in a low, almost inaudible voice. “Then circle back and take them out.”
“Agreed,” Quinn whispered back. It was the only way. “Right now, they’re herding us somewhere.”
“You noticed that?”
She wanted to roll her eyes. “I’m not an idiot.”
He just grunted.
She gritted her teeth and ignored him. “Put her by the log.”
He set Natalie down gently and swung his rifle into his arms. He indicated he’d go right, and she went left. Her eyes strained to see anything beyond the dark outlines of trees against the blackness of the night. Without NVGs, she had to rely on her other senses to make up for what she couldn’t see. She had to be extra careful or she could walk straight at one of Pérez’s men and not even see him until it was too late. She moved forward slowly but without hesitation. Her training kicked in.
Breathe. Listen. Focus.
Insects buzzed and whirred. Quinn moved farther into the jungle, keeping track of her position in her mind. A scuffing noise came from her left. Not where the other soldier, her dubious ally, should be. She froze and waited. The double click of a radio button being depressed. To her left again. She squinted. Something moved.
She lowered herself—so slowly that her thighs screamed at her—into a crouch. Whoever it was, was moving straight toward her.
She smiled. He must not have NVGs either.
A slight shift of movement behind him. Two of them.
Fuck.
As soon as she fired, the other would spot her and return fire.
New plan. Get cover and then fire.
A shot cracked the night. She dove behind a tree. Had they been shooting at her, or had her helpful soldier shot at them? Either way, she returned fire.
Muzzle flashes lit the night, giving the chaos a surreal effect. It also let them know where she was. She rolled behind another tree, firing again. And again.
No more flashes.
She listened hard. Were they moving or dead? Silence. Goddammit, she hated being out here without a way to contact her temporary ally. What if he got in her line of fire and she killed him by accident? That thought didn’t sit easily.
She had to start moving. Either she’d draw fire, or she’d find dead bodies. Keeping tree trunks between her and where she’d last seen the muzzle flashes, Quinn circled closer.
Movement to her right made her freeze. A silhouette by another tree trunk. Someone motioned to her. She squinted. She couldn’t fucking see anything in the darkness under the foliage. But it had to be the soldier. Anyone else would have shot her already.
She stepped closer to the area where she suspected the men to be hiding or dead, and the soldier waved her back. She gritted her teeth but nodded her compliance. He could see better than her but it still rankled to trust this unknown soldier’s judgment.
Quinn waited while he flanked her position and then moved ahead. He didn’t try to give her any further signals, just kept stalking forward. She shifted slightly to keep him in sight. He waved her off again. She held up her middle finger, perfectly visible with his NVGs.
The night critters went silent around them. She barely breathed in the tension of the jungle. Where the fuck had those men gone? Were they dead? Or playing possum? She kept her gaze moving. She didn’t know how well trained this soldier was. What if he ran into trouble? What if he was the trouble? He could lead any of the enemy back to her while she waited blindly for him.
The soldier was almost out of sight. Just a darker shadow among so many others. She followed, determined not to be where he’d left her. She moved with extra caution, just in case. A few trees later, she paused and listened.
She was just about to step when she heard a small click. Like a mag being locked into a rifle. The sound ripped through the tense silence of the jungle. Her gaze darted to the location of the soldier who’d made the sound. Her ally.
Fucking idiot!
He’d drawn the attention of anyone alive in the jungle.
Gunfire erupted, blasting the night with muzzle flashes and thunder. All directed toward the soldier. She gasped. The flashes of light illuminated a man crouched close to her, hidden behind some fronds. So close that he would have seen her with her next movement if the soldier hadn’t drawn the man’s attention and his fire.
She raised her weapon and shot him in the back. He would have killed them both without a thought. She found another target farther ahead and fired again. Flashes of muzzle fire led her to the next man. She took him down less than a second later.
Silence.
She waited in the dark, for movement or sound. Nothing.
“All targets down,” she called quietly. “Let’s move, soldier.”
No response. Not even a rustle of leaves.
She squinted into the night, cursing her lack of NVGs again. “Soldier? No time to play shy.” She moved forward to where she’d last seen him. If he’d gone back to get Natalie without her, then she’d hunt him down and put a bullet in him.
Her foot hit something.
A body.
Shit. The soldier was down.
5
Quinn knelt by the unknown soldier who’d been helping her. “Come on,” she muttered as she felt his neck for a pulse. Her fingers found his carotid and pressed. A sigh escaped her when a steady beat pressed against her fingertips in a reassuring rhythm.
She laid her weapon down and crouched lower, listening for his breath as she put a hand on his chest, feeling for its rise and fall. His breathing was shallow, but there.
She ran her hands over his head, chest, and arms. His helmet was missing. She moved her hands down his torso to his lower limbs. Wetness soaked his left leg. She probed the wound. A small, ragged hole on one side. She couldn’t find an exit wound. Blood oozed out, but it didn’t pump or squirt, so the bullet probably hadn’t hit anything vital.
Why was he unconscious? Had he hit his head on something?
“Where’s your helmet?” she muttered. She needed his NVGs if she was going to get them out of there. She felt in the bush around them, praying she wouldn’t hit a snake or a spider. She’d always hated creepy crawlies. She clenched her jaw and kept searching.
Don’t think about it.
Her fingers brushed something smooth and hard. The helmet. She fumbled with it for a moment, and her fingers traced a dent near the top. The brain bucket had done its job and saved the lucky bastard from a bullet to the head. But she’d bet the blow was what had knocked him unconscious. Or at least, that’s what she hoped. It could be something worse. Until she got him back to her clinic, she wouldn’t know for sure.
Quinn put the helmet on and adjusted the straps and night vision goggles. She sighed when the landscape became clear in shades of green around her.
The soldier laid still, and guilt moved through her. Using the NVGs, she gave him another quick once-over before unzipping her small medkit. She slapped together a quick bandage for his thigh and wrapped it tightly to try to stanch the bleeding. It was all she had time for. She had to get back to Natalie and get both her and the soldier to the jeep before they were all found by Pérez’s men.
A walk in the park.
She snorted and patted the soldier’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back. Don’t worry.”
Yes, he was unconscious, but the subconscious mind could still hear and be reassured. Even if she was lying.
Quinn ran silently to the area they’d left Natalie. She leapt over a fallen tree. It was so much easier with the NVGs. A green glow of a body soon lay before her. She dropped to her knees.
“Natalie,” she whispered, squeezing the woman’s shoulder. “I’m back. Can you move?”
Men shouted in the distance. A search party coming this way.
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The woman moaned softly. “No.” She panted. “You have to leave me.”
“No freaking way,” Quinn said. “We got you this far.”
“Breathing…hurts… Won’t…make it.”
The rib must have fully punctured her lung. Shit. She needed surgery ASAP. If Quinn moved her, it would make the injury worse. But she couldn’t leave the other agent. “I’m going to get you out of here, Natalie. Don’t give up on me.”
“Remember… Trust…no one… Go to…Fletcher… Only Fletcher.”
“Copy that, but I’m going to get you out of here.”
Natalie coughed. Blood stained her lips and teeth, and dribbled from the side of her mouth.
Chat time was over. Quinn moved her arms under the woman and began to lift. “It’s okay, Natalie. I’ve got you.”
Natalie cried out.
A man shouted, and the jungle went silent. Quinn froze.
Natalie’s head lolled toward her. “Stop,” she whispered. “You have…to leave me.”
Quinn hugged her closer. The men’s voices started again, nearer than before.
“My name…is Anna. Anna Bishop.” The woman tried to smile. “Tell…Fletcher… Tell Fletcher I love him.”
Quinn closed her eyes. Was she really going to leave Nata—leave Anna?
What choice did she have? She had an unconscious man to carry as well. There was no way she could carry both at the same time. And the simple fact was moving Anna would make her injury worse. If Quinn had to choose between who would survive the night based on their injuries, then she had to pick the soldier. Otherwise she’d end up with both dead.
Quinn tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t squeeze past her thick throat.
“It’s…okay,” Anna said with another cough. Her breath rattled. “Go.”
Quinn’s stomach knotted. Ignoring Anna’s moans, she pulled the other woman up so her back was against a tree. Then Quinn pulled her Baby Glock from her waist holster and put it in Anna’s hands, wrapping her fingers around it. She forced her next words past her tight throat. “You have ten rounds.”
