Falcon's Run

by Aimée Thurlo

  Preston looked at the boy and smiled. “And we did, buddy. Teamwork.”

  Bobby glanced back at Stan as Kyle and Daniel held him away from them. “You, me and Abby. We backed each other up when it counted, just like family.”

  “You’ve got that right,” Preston said and bumped fists with Bobby. “That painting is still on the ground over there. You wanna get it before Hank does?”

  “Sure.” As Bobby hurried away, Preston focused on Abby. “He’s right, you know,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms. “The three of us are family in all the ways that count. Listen to White Wolf’s call. Marry me, Abby. After that, we can adopt Bobby and make it official.”

  She smiled. “A package deal. What more could a woman want?”

  “Let me give you a few ideas,” he said and covered her mouth in a deep, slow kiss.

  “About time,” Bobby called out. “Grown-ups take forever to see what’s right in front of them.”

  “Just plain stubbornness, if you ask me,” Daniel said, laughing.

  Epilogue

  The cliffs were bathed in the gold, orange and red of late afternoon as Preston and Abby arrived at Copper Canyon. Moments after they parked, first Bobby came out of the house followed by Preston’s brothers and two women Abby hadn’t yet met.

  “This is our last get-together before Kyle leaves again,” Preston said.

  “Is he coming back?” she asked.

  Preston nodded. “By the end of the year. Now come meet some of the family.”

  Preston introduced Abby to Holly, Daniel’s very pregnant wife, and then Gene introduced his wife, Lori.

  Before Abby and Bobby could go into the house with the others, Preston took them aside. “I’d like to show both of you a very special place. It was where I first learned about being in a family.”

  Preston took Abby by the hand and led her and Bobby a little ways up the canyon.

  “When Hosteen Silver first brought me here to Copper Canyon I had a rough time of it. Life hadn’t taught me to trust anyone, so I didn’t want to hang out with my brothers. I wanted a space of my own. A tree house seemed perfect. I’d seen one on TV, so I picked out that tree,” he said, pointing to a large cottonwood next to the arroyo.

  “You built that?” Bobby asked, looking up at the small four-sided boxlike structure.

  “Not completely, no,” Preston said.

  “My idea at the time was just to put in some kind of floor and maybe a length of rope so I could climb up, but I couldn’t do any of it alone. The more I tried, the more frustrated I got. One day after I had stormed off, ready to sulk, I looked back and saw Kyle and Gene starting to work together on the place. They were doing what I hadn’t been able to do by myself. I went back and joined them. We all shared the work from that day on, and it turned out to be a great place. We used it for a long time.”

  “I try to do stuff alone, too,” Bobby said. “It’s hard to count on anyone else.”

  “My brothers and I aren’t related by blood, but we’re family in all the ways that matter most, like it is with Abby, you and me,” Preston said. “So, Bobby, what do you say? Would you like to make it official?”

  “You mean you’ll foster me?” Bobby asked, his voice rising in excitement.

  “No, I was thinking we could start the adoption process once Abby and I are married,” Preston said.

  “And we’ll live in the big house at Sitting Tall Ranch,” she said, “though we’re going to have to do some remodeling.”

  “And lots of repainting,” Preston said with a grin.

  “More blue?” she said, laughing. “What color do you want your room to be, Bobby?”

  “My own family and my own room? Who cares what color it is,” he said.

  “Okay,” Preston said. “Now that we’ve got that settled, let’s go back to the house. Kyle’s got everything we need, Bobby, including a baseball glove that needs to be broken in. While we’re waiting for dinner, you and I can go practice throwing and catching and maybe take a few swings with the bat.”

  “For real?” Bobby asked.

  “For real,” Preston said with a smile.

  “Can I get in on that?” Abby asked.

  “Hey, you’re part of the family team now, too—the Copper Canyon crew. We’re unstoppable.”

  As they headed back, Bobby leading the way, Preston placed his arm around Abby’s waist and pulled her closer to his side.

  Abby looked up at him and smiled. “So what do we do for a second date, Detective Bowman?”

  “Get married? I’ve got this ring in my pocket....”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Sharpshooter by Cynthia Eden!

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  Prologue

  The thunder of gunfire erupted around her as Sydney Sloan ran through the remains of the enemy’s camp. Voices were calling out, screaming, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

  Her focus was on the man before her. The man lying so still in the middle of that nightmare scene.

  “Slade!” Her own scream joined the others as she fell to her knees beside him. She grabbed for his shoulder and rolled him toward her.

  His chest was a bloody mess. His eyes—those dark eyes that she’d stared into so many times—were closed. “Slade?” she whispered hoarsely. No, this couldn’t happen. They were supposed to get out of there together. They were going to start their life together back in the States. They were going to get married.

  “I’ll get you out of here.” He would be fine. She’d get him to the helicopter. Fly him out of there. He’d get patched up, and everything would be just as they’d planned.

  More gunfire erupted. Her breath choked out when a bullet drove into her shoulder. The pain burned her, terrified her. If she was hurt too badly, how would she get Slade to safety?

  She grabbed his arms. Started to drag him.

  More gunfire. This time, the bullet hit her in the side. She stumbled but refused to fall. Slade needed her. She wasn’t going to let him down.

  “Sydney!” The roar of her name had her jerking up her head. She saw Gunner Ortez then, running toward her and his brother.

  Gunner and Slade. They were so different. Slade was always laughing, so easygoing. Gunner was intense, almost...frightening to her.

  But she knew Gunner would do anything for his brother. “Help him!” Sydney called as her knees buckled. She hit the ground, still holding tight to Slade.

  Why weren’t her knees working? Why did she feel so cold? It was so hot in the jungle.

  Then Gunner was there. He was curling his body around hers, shielding her from the hail of gunfire that just wouldn’t stop.

  A trap. They’d walked right into this hell because they’d been going after Slade. A rescue mission. They’d had to take the risk of infiltrating the area, against orders.

  Gunner’s fingers—long, tan, strong—went to Slade’s throat. She felt the thick tension in the big
body behind hers as Gunner checked for his brother’s pulse. Then Gunner swore.

  No. No.

  His hand pulled back. She grabbed his fingers. Held tight. “You have to help me,” she whispered. “Gunner, please, we have to get him out of here!”

  More gunfire. Gunner curled his body even tighter to hers. She heard the thud of the impact and knew he’d just taken a bullet.

  For her.

  “He’s not here anymore,” Gunner rasped. His eyes—as dark as Slade’s but lined with gold flecks, stared into her own. “He’s not here.”

  She shook her head.

  The rat-a-tat of gunfire came again. Gunner yanked out a handgun with his left hand. He began to fire back, even as the fingers of his right hand twisted and locked with hers. “We have to get out of here! We’re damn sitting ducks!”

  “Not without...Slade...” Her side hurt. A deep, agonizing burn, and she wondered just how bad the hit was. But she’d make it, she’d hold on, until they got Slade out of there. They’d come to rescue him, and they’d never failed on a mission before. “Help me.”

  The gold in his eyes seemed to blaze. “How many times have you been hit?”

  Two? Three? What did it matter? “Slade...”

  Then she heard the roar of engines. Coming toward them. The enemy closing in. There wasn’t any more time. “Just...take him.” Because she wasn’t sure that she’d be able to get out on her own steam. She couldn’t make her legs work, and as she pulled her fingers from Gunner’s, she realized that she was shaking. She’d run out of ammo, and the blood was pumping down her side. “Take him...please.” Her voice broke and her body began to sway. She was already on her knees, but Sydney was pretty sure she’d soon slump forward and crash face-first into the dirt.

  Hold it together. Stay strong, just until Slade is safe.

  But Gunner’s hands didn’t wrap around Slade’s body. His hands reached for her.

  She screamed then, and lunged toward Slade.

  But Gunner pulled her back. The bullets were hitting the ground around her, sending chunks of dirt flying into the air. They had no cover, no backup and it sounded as though more enemy reinforcements were coming in.

  Shouldn’t have been here. Shouldn’t have happened. How had everything gotten so messed up? Their cover had been blown pretty much from the get-go.

  “Gunner, no.” She tried to pull away from him. “Can’t...leave...”

  Another bullet hit her. Driving through her upper shoulder and sinking into Gunner.

  She choked, barely managing to breathe as the pain swamped her.

  “He’s dead,” Gunner gritted out. She was in his arms then. He was holding her tight, bruising her. “You...won’t be.”

  Sydney fought him, using all the strength that she had, but she didn’t have enough. Gunner was wounded, too, but nothing stopped him. Not ever.

  So he ran right through the gunfire, holding her in arms like steel. He ran and ran, and then they were in the heavier, denser part of the jungle, evading the men who chased them. No jeeps could follow them here.

  Gunner wouldn’t let her go, no matter how much she begged him.

  He didn’t speak to her again. Didn’t say a word.

  And behind them, in that nightmare, Slade remained in the dirt.

  Dead.

  His eyes had never opened. From the time she’d fallen by his side, he hadn’t moved. Hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t even been able to open his eyes.

  They never would open again.

  * * *

  GUNNER GOT HER out of that jungle. Patched her up. Stopped the blood flow. She wasn’t helping him. Sydney was barely moving at all.

  “Shock,” Gunner told her, voice terse.

  Yeah, that was it. She had to be in shock. Because she’d just seen her fiancé die in that trap. She and Slade had fought before, and for him to die with that anger between them...I’m so sorry.

  “You lost too much blood.” Gunner’s fingers curled around her chin. She didn’t know where they were now. Some kind of hut? A run-down shack? Just some shelter he’d found them. Gunner was good at finding shelters. “You won’t die.”

  Hadn’t he said that before? It was hard to remember. Her tongue seemed so thick in her mouth, but after three tries she managed to say, “Slade...”

  Gunner’s fingers tightened on her. “He’s gone.”

  A tear leaked down her cheek.

  Gunner’s jaw clenched. That hard jaw. That dangerous face. “I’ve got you, Syd. I’ll take care of you.”

  She was breaking apart on the inside. The mission was over. They’d failed.

  He pulled her into his arms. Held her against his chest. Gentleness? He’d never seemed the kind for that. “I’ve got you,” he said again, voice deepening.

  And it was there, in his arms, that she finally let herself go.

  She cried until there were no tears left to shed.

  Chapter One

  Two years later...

  The kidnapper had a gun pressed to Sydney’s head.

  Gunner Ortez stopped breathing when he saw Sydney’s beautiful face fill his scope. So perfect. Delicate, high cheekbones. The soft curve of her nose. The full, red lips...

  And the green eyes that stared straight back at him. Seeming to know where he was. Her green gaze that showed no fear even as that soon-to-be-dead man jammed the gun harder into her temple.

  “Do you have the shot?” a low voice asked in his ear. The earpiece wouldn’t even be noticed by most people. Uncle Sam was great at inventing gear that his soldiers could use anytime, anyplace.

  With a minimum of fuss and a maximum of damage.

  Gunner’s finger was curled over the trigger, but he wasn’t taking the shot. “Negative, Alpha One,” he told his team leader. “Sydney isn’t clear.”

  And he was sweating, feeling a tendril of fear—when he never felt fear. There was no room for emotion on any of their missions.

  He worked with a group far off the grid. The Elite Ops Division wasn’t on any books anywhere in the U.S. government. They took the jobs that the rest of the world wasn’t meant to know about. In particular, his EOD team—code-named the Shadow Agents—had a reputation for deadly accuracy when it came to taking out their targets.

  And this guy...that jerk with the trembling finger, he was going down. The man had kidnapped an ambassador’s daughter. Held her for ransom, and when the ransom had been paid, he’d still killed her.

  He’d thought he could hide from justice.

  He’d thought wrong.

  Sydney’s intel had led them to Jonathan Hall. Led them to his hideout just over the border in Mexico.

  Sydney had volunteered to go in, to make sure that Hall was holding no civilians.

  Now she was the one being held.

  “He can’t leave the scene,” Logan Quinn said, the faint drawl of the South sliding beneath the team leader’s words as they carried easily over the transmitter. “You know our orders.”

  Containment or death. Yeah, Gunner knew the drill, because the ambassador’s daughter hadn’t been the first victim. Hall liked to kill.

  Gunner stared down at the man, at Sydney. You won’t kill her.

  Sydney’s face was emotionless. Like a pale canvas, waiting for life. That wasn’t her. She was always brimming with emotion, letting it spill over onto everything and everyone.

  It was only on the missions that she changed.

  How many
more missions would she take? She seemed to be putting herself at risk more these days. He hated that.

  He shifted his position, testing the wind. Hall wouldn’t see him. He was too far away. Gunner’s specialty was attacking from a distance.

  There was no target that he couldn’t reach.

  He could take out that man right now. A perfect shot...if he hadn’t been worried that Hall’s finger would jerk on that trigger at impact.

  “I want the gun away from her head,” Gunner snapped into his mouthpiece.

  But even as he said the words, he saw Sydney’s lips moving.

  Take. The. Shot.

  Hall was outside the small house, his gaze frantically searching the area even as he kept Sydney killing-close. The man wasn’t stupid. He’d eluded capture for over a year because he understood how the game was played.

  Hall knew Sydney hadn’t come in alone. The guy just didn’t see her backup. When he hunted like this, Gunner’s prey never saw him, not unless he wanted to be seen.

  This time, he wanted to be seen because that gun was coming away from Sydney’s head.

  Take. The. Shot. Her lips moved again.

  He shook his head, even though he realized she’d never see the movement. Then he took two steps to the right. He knew that, in this particular position, the sunlight would glint off his weapon. When he saw that flash of light, Hall would fire—

  And he did. The man yanked the gun away from Sydney’s head and shot at Gunner.

  Too late.

  Gunner had already taken his own shot.

  The second the gun moved away from her temple, Sydney shoved back against Hall with her elbow, and then she’d jerked away from her captor and threw herself down.

  Before she even hit the ground, Gunner’s bullet slammed into Hall. The man stumbled back and fell.

  “Converge,” Logan’s hard order came in Gunner’s ear.