by Loye, Trish
To control the bugs, she needed the gloves or she’d need to type in the commands. Typing was out of the question. A quick glance showed the gloves within reach, but the bugs nestled in the briefcase. She’d have to reach across the table for them and that would attract attention.
No one was looking. Her heart pounded. Now or never. She reached to the side and snatched the gloves, balling them into her fist and lowering her arms in front of her. The guard’s gaze snapped to her. He must have seen her move out of the corner of his eye.
He started toward her. She kept the gloves in the palm of her hand, grateful she’d made them so thin with nanotech. Sweat trickled down her back and she struggled to remain calm. No one could know.
The guard grabbed her upper arm and yanked her back toward Logan.
“Don’t move again,” he said. “Or I will put a bullet in your knee.”
“I’ll stay right here,” she muttered.
He curled his lip and faced the buyers, who had mostly calmed down.
“How long will it take for her to build this device?” one man asked.
While Logan answered questions, she stood just behind him and slipped on the gloves. Next would come the tricky part. Trying to maneuver one of the bugs over to the laptop without anyone noticing.
Keeping her hands lowered, she turned so she could see the metal briefcase out of the corner of her eye. If she only used one bug, she should still be able to maneuver it past the crowd to the laptop.
Hopefully.
At hip level, she carefully twisted and flicked her left hand, powering up the devices. Then she took one finger and slowly raised it.
Nothing happened. She bit her lip. Maybe it was stuck. She gently toggled that finger back and forth as if wiggling free of foam, then raised it again. A movement over the briefcase caught her eye. She almost slumped in relief, but she held herself erect and struggled to keep emotion off her face.
She dropped the bug down past the table, almost to the floor. It was out of her sight, but she couldn’t turn her head to look. She had to trust it was still coming. She moved her finger a bit more.
Slow. She had to go slow.
The laptop was probably ten feet from the bug. She’d need it to be within a foot when she detonated for it to work. She chanced a glance down. Where was it?
A finger flick and a bit of silver flashed near the guard’s legs. She pulled back and the bug hovered. A sea of legs stood between her bug and the laptop. If she took the bug higher it would be seen. No help for it. She slowly moved her finger to the left, avoiding the guard’s legs.
“What the fuck?” the guard shouted. He’d seen the bug, and lunged for it.
She jerked her hands and it flew straight up. Everyone’s gazes followed it. She swiped her hands toward the laptop.
Logan stepped in front of her, a snarl crossing his face. He raised his hand to strike, and she couldn’t avoid it. She had to keep her focus and destroy that laptop.
And as soon as she did, he would kill her.
Five feet.
She had to do this. If she didn’t, this technology would be used by the worst terrorists on the planet. Hundreds of thousands would die.
Three feet.
She kept her gaze on her bug, directing it toward the laptop even as she saw Logan’s fist heading for her face.
One foot.
She spread all the fingers of her left hand while curling in the one on her right. Logan’s fist struck her cheek just as a popping noise sounded from the bug. Pain exploded in her head and she crashed to the ground. Her head bounced off the floor.
She couldn’t move, couldn’t see. Pain numbed her thoughts.
She needed to do something. She blinked and swallowed a moan.
She needed to move.
Bracing herself on her arms, she got her knees under her.
“You bitch! What did you do?” Logan screamed.
His foot connected with her ribs, flinging her onto her back. She gasped, trying to get breath back while fire burned on her right side. He raised his foot again. He was going to beat her to death in front of these people, and no one would raise a hand to help her.
Hand. She had a small weapon in her pocket, but she couldn’t get it while he beat her.
She curled herself into a ball just before he kicked again, trying to protect her head with her arms. His foot landed on her forearm and she cried out.
She wasn’t going to last much longer. She rolled away, her ribs screaming at her almost as much as Logan was.
“You fucking bitch. You think you’re going to get away?” He ran up and launched another kick.
Her hoarse cry sounded bad even to her. She tasted the metal tang of blood in her mouth.
Logan pulled his gun and aimed it at her knee. “I’m going to make you beg to die.”
Logan’s guard tackled him just as shots cracked through the room. Gunfire erupted everywhere. She had no clue what was going on, but she used the time to dig into her pants pocket, her breath a panicked pant, and grabbed her shocker. It was her only defense at this point.
She crawled to a wall, trying to understand what was happening.
The buyers raced out of the room through the far door, while the guards fired at the door closest to her. When she looked, her heart leapt.
Jack crouched there, with Cat on the other side of the door. Both held rifles and methodically picked off people.
24
Charlie watched as Jack and Cat fired at people from the relative safety of the doorway.
They were alive! A weight fled from her heart and energy flooded her, not quite dousing her pain, but making it easier to bear.
Three of the buyers who’d raced through the far door staggered back in, firing back the way they came, blood staining their clothes.
Charlie huddled down and didn’t move, not wanting to get hit by a stray bullet. She knew neither Jack nor Cat would ever mistake her for an enemy, but she didn’t trust the buyers firing wildly back at them. She crouched low to the ground and waited, trying to breathe shallowly. She must have some broken ribs.
The firing started to die down.
A voice shouted from the far door. “Lower your weapons if you want to live.” Marc’s voice.
The few people left snarled and threw down their guns. She sighed. It was over.
A hand gripped her elbow, yanking her up before an arm circled her throat, threatening to cut off her air. She barely had time to duck her chin to protect her airway. The cold metal of a gun touched her temple.
Logan whispered in her ear. “You’re going to walk out with me or I will gladly put a bullet in your brain. I will make sure you die before I do.”
He pulled her in front of him and, keeping his back to the wall, they sidestepped toward the door. Toward Jack.
Jack stood up and got in their way, his eyes blazing as he aimed his rifle at Logan. “Let her go.”
Logan ducked his head behind hers. “I don’t think so.” He forced them to take more steps. She’d only seen Cat, Jack, and Marc. Would Logan be able to get away? He would kill her as soon as he was in the clear.
Jack wouldn’t shoot. Not with her in the way, he wouldn’t risk it. But she couldn’t let Logan escape. She had to stop him before he got to the hall.
She had her shocker. It was still in her hand. But if she used it on Logan, the current would go through him to her. She’d electrocute herself as well.
Electrocution was better than a bullet.
She held three fingers against her thigh as they moved sideways, Logan’s grip almost choking. Jack’s gaze flicked fast down and up. He had to have seen her fingers.
Jack paralleled their walk. His gaze snapped to hers for just an instant. “Don’t do this.” Was he talking to Logan? Or to her? It didn’t matter. She had to stop Logan.
Two fingers. Jack’s gaze narrowed, a focused predator. “You won’t survive.”
“Then neither will she,” Logan said.
One finger.<
br />
She pressed the shocker to Logan’s thigh, ducking at the same time. The current zapped through both of them. More than a TASER. Pain clenched every muscle.
Blind. Deaf.
Couldn’t…move.
Searing. Burning. Agony.
Moments or lifetimes later, the pain receded. Blackness edged her vision, but didn’t creep in further. She lay on her side on the ground, panting.
“Charlie!” A man’s voice. He knelt in front of her, his face concerned. She knew him. It took a moment for his name to come to her. Jack.
Memories exploded.
Where was Logan? Had he killed him? Did they win?
“Ungh,” she whispered.
He frowned. “Don’t try to speak. I’ve got you.” He shook his head as he put an arm under her knees and one around her shoulders. “You scared the shit out of me, Sherlock,” he said.
“I had to make sure he didn’t escape,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, as if she’d been screaming.
He hugged her to him. “I think fucking electrocuting yourself did the trick. I’m gonna have to start calling you Electra.”
She shook her head. “Sherlock is just fine.”
His smile warmed her. He stood up, easily bearing her weight. She wanted to snuggle into his arms, smelling his smell, but her ribs protested and she winced.
“Hurt?” he asked.
“I’ll be okay.”
Logan lay sprawled near them. Someone had zip-tied his hands and his feet. He was only now coming around.
It was over.
Marc and Cat secured the other prisoners.
“ETA for backup?” Jack asked.
“Ten minutes,” Cat said, checking her watch.
Charlie felt a slight embarrassment about being in his arms in front of her teammates. None of them said anything or looked at her oddly, but it still didn’t make her feel any better. “I can stand,” she said.
“I know,” he said, his gaze almost possessive as he continued to hold her close, almost as if he didn’t want to let her go.
Charlie’s face heated and she kept it turned from Cat and Marc.
“Look at the happy couple,” Logan’s hoarse voice intruded. “But you’ll never be together.” He smirked. “I’m going to tell the world how Trooper Jack Sinclair of the SAS was my secret partner in crime. They’ll put him in jail.” Logan laughed. “The looks on your faces are priceless.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Marc snarled.
“Let me down,” she said quietly to Jack. He did, making sure she was steady on her feet.
Logan just shook his head. “You’re all pitiful.”
She found her messenger bag and rummaged through it.
“You think that this is going to stop me? My lawyers—what are you—”
Charlie had knelt beside Logan and shoved a scarf from her bag into his mouth. She smiled at the others. “I didn’t feel like listening to his bad-guy monologue anymore.”
“Thanks,” Cat said with a smile. “Spooky and I will secure the grounds until College and the others arrive. Q, watch the prisoners.”
A dark-haired man in jeans and a leather jacket entered the room with his hands up. Cat had her weapon pointed at him before he’d cleared the doorway. He froze.
“Who are you?” Cat demanded.
“Ethan Fletcher, Secret Intelligence Service.”
Called it, Charlie thought.
“ID?” Cat still hadn’t lowered her weapon. “Slowly,” she ordered when Ethan reached inside his jacket. He pulled out ID and flipped it to land at Cat’s feet. Marc picked it up and scanned it.
“Looks legit,” he said.
“What are you doing here?” She still hadn’t lowered her weapon.
“Tracking him,” Ethan said, nodding at Jack. “It seems I missed all the excitement.”
Jack stood with his face emotionless and his shoulders tense. Then he nodded at Logan. “We got him.”
Ethan stilled as he glanced at Logan. Charlie realized a dangerous man now stood in place of the calm unassuming one who’d walked into the room. “Good,” was all he said, without taking his eyes off Logan.
Cat lowered her weapon. “You good, Q? We need to secure the grounds.”
“I’m good,” Charlie said as she watched Ethan motion Jack into the hallway. Leaving her behind.
Again.
Marc and Cat headed out after them, leaving her with bound prisoners and one sadistic son of a bitch who smirked at her around his gag.
* * *
“So that’s the guy?” Ethan said, looking back into the ballroom. “You’re sure.”
“Very.”
“Indisputable proof?”
“There should be enough in this place.”
Ethan still hadn’t looked away from Logan. “Why is he alive?”
Jack thought about that. When Charlie had shocked herself and Logan, they’d both fallen to the ground unable to move. He’d still been aiming his weapon at Logan, his finger tightening on the trigger. This man had caused so much misery, and wanted to cause so much more. “Death was too quick.”
“He’ll be buried alive in solitary,” Ethan said. “I’ll make sure of it.” Then he sighed, and faced Jack. “You still need to come in for questioning.”
Disappointment washed over him. But he’d known. He’d known there would still be questions about his involvement, about the signaler’s death. Especially when Logan had said he’d paint Jack as his partner in crime.
“What’re my chances?”
“It depends on what we find,” Ethan said.
“What about reinstatement?”
Ethan ran a hand through his hair. “You went rogue. We should be able to overturn the dishonorable discharge, but you went off-grid and defied the order to return for questioning. You most likely won’t be able to be a soldier again, let alone SAS.”
Jack bowed his head. He’d loved being SAS. He hadn’t realized how much he’d hoped to be able to return to the world of special ops until Ethan had spoken those damning words. The weight of what had been stolen from him almost made him drop to his knees.
“I’ll make sure you never see jail.”
Jesus fuck. He’d done what he’d set out to do, bring Spider to justice, and his life was still in the shitter.
He looked back at Charlie. His Sherlock, who held an assault rifle with as much ease as she’d held her micro-bugs.
But she wasn’t his.
Something inside him wrenched painfully at the thought. “One night,” he said roughly. “Give me one night.”
Ethan followed his gaze. “Of course.”
One night would have to be enough.
* * *
Charlie yawned as she walked to their rental car. After Jake and the others had made it to the manor house, Ethan had called in his fellow agents. They’d taken control of the scene and shipped off the prisoners.
Charlie and the others had each told their stories and then had been able to leave. Jack hadn’t been questioned, but he’d stayed with them. He’d been quiet on the ride back to the London hotel.
“I’m to report in tomorrow morning,” he told her.
“Why?” she asked. “Why not just take your statement now like they did ours?”
He shrugged and avoided her gaze. “He’s a friend. He’s…letting me get some rest. Figures there’ll be a lot of questions.”
She frowned. Something wasn’t right. But he wouldn’t speak any more about it during the ride back.
The sun was just peeking over the horizon when Marc pulled their rental car into the hotel’s underground parking. Jack hopped out and headed for the elevator, walking with quick strides.
Charlie didn’t try to keep up. Clearly, he didn’t want to talk. It didn’t mean that she was letting him off the hook. She just wasn’t going to make him talk in front of the others.
“Hey, Q,” Cat said, back in the hotel lobby. “After we clean up, we’re meeting for breakfast—”
“An
d a celebratory drink,” Marc said.
“It’s six in the morning,” Cat said.
“Well, that’s not even last call back home.”
“Seriously?” Cat looked at Charlie. “Want to come help me rein in Marc?”
“Hey,” he said. “Just cause you’re all turning into old married couples—”
“I’m not married.”
“Same difference.”
Charlie stepped away from their friendly bickering, drawing both their gazes. At one time she would have blushed knowing where she was going and what she was planning to do. But she was too tired and had been through too much. She straightened her shoulders. “I’m going to find Jack. Why don’t you guys go on ahead?”
“Sure,” Cat said, and gave her a small smile. “Text me if you want to join us.”
On the way to Jack’s room, Charlie called Aunt G’s cell phone and left a message telling her she was coming to visit her later in the morning.
Charlie went to Jack’s room and knocked on the door. There was no answer at first. She raised her hand to knock again when it opened.
Jack stood there, his face expressionless.
She debated for a second what she should say, and then just went with her heart.
“I’m collecting on your promise.”
25
She stood in his doorway and he soaked her in, with her dark hair tangled around her shoulders, her face devoid of any makeup and her clothing utilitarian and rugged. She was dressed like any soldier coming back from a mission. A mission she’d barely survived. The sight of her constricted his heart.
Damn, he had it bad. He just wanted to yank her inside, push her up against the wall, and kiss her until she moaned his name. Especially after she spoke about his promise. He struggled to keep himself still. He couldn’t act on it.
At least not without a warning.
“I can’t promise anything beyond tonight.” His voice came out low and almost ragged. He wanted her, but he had to give her the truth. And it was killing him to keep his hands off her.
“I know,” she said softly.
Did she? He should tell her to go away, tell her no. But he couldn’t. Instead, without speaking, he opened his door further and stepped to the side allowing her entrance, if she so desired. It had to be her choice.
