No Good Dead (Bad to Be Good #1)

by Dana Volney

  “You could’ve led with that information.”

  Samson glared at Claire. “I thought the rest was good information to have.”

  Teagan tried to focus on the conversation and the non-verbal current of glares between Samson and Claire and Samson and Able, but how could she give two shits about this petty battle when Agent Wheeler was dead?

  Able had casually mentioned it on their drive in to the office. Like it was no big deal. But it was. She knew it and he knew it, but the asshole clearly thought she was a toddler and wouldn’t know the ramifications of what had just really happened. Her hollow insides were all too aware of hope drifting out the window into the cold winter air. Without the agent to corroborate her story, she was still a lock for attempted murder. No, murder. She was going to jail for murdering a federal agent if they didn’t get things set straight using Hume. Her stomach roiled, even now.

  Then there was the agent’s loved ones. That was a whole other level of guilt pushing her deep into a dark place of selfish actions. She shouldn’t have dragged another person into her mess. Tabitha had already been killed; Teagan knew that Hume Corp. was serious about keeping its secrets, and still she’d pressed on.

  She glanced around the room at more innocent people she’d dragged into her mess. Okay, so they weren’t innocent and they had their own horse in this race, but they might be going about things differently if she weren’t involved. They might not be in as much danger if they weren’t also trying to protect her.

  “Is anyone going to tell me what that information actually is?” A vein popped out on the side of Able’s temple, but he was still. And pissed.

  “Rodney is the leader.” Claire crossed her legs.

  “We know that already. Did you get anything new?” Able asked.

  “The Germans were who Rodney recruited.” She shifted in her seat again and re-crossed her legs—the first sign that Claire wasn’t cool as a cucumber.

  Able nodded and Samson pressed his lips together. There was more to come.

  “Paulo was hired to make them two sets of passports.”

  “Shit.”

  “That’s not our only problem.” Samson crossed his arms. “Word on the street is, the guy you killed on the roof was new to the team and that didn’t rattle anyone. However, the two we took out at the park were in with the family, and now they’re out for total annihilation.”

  “Rodney won’t be able to handle them now.” Able took his phone out of his pocket and tapped it a couple of times.

  “No, but they’ll still get his job done, so what does it matter to him?” Rife, the man of even fewer words than Able, took a seat on the other couch.

  Claire stood. “Does no one care that now we really do have a family to contend with, and Rodney, and a defense contractor that doesn’t mind getting its hands dirty? The list is growing, not shortening.”

  “Then we’d better get started.” Able pocketed his phone, looking like they should all know the plan he obviously had.

  “I thought we had started,” Teagan snapped. She took note of the room again—they were wearing work clothes, agile pieces that looked military and darker in color. Except Claire.

  “These things are a process.” Samson’s dark brown eyes didn’t linger on Teagan long.

  “You can’t go at people like us straight.” A cocky smile accompanied Able’s arrogant laugh. “You have to work it so they don’t see us coming. Samson, where’d you find out they’re staying?”

  “They’ve taken up in a condemned motel on the outskirts toward Woodland Acres,” Claire informed him.

  “Did Lover Boy give you the blueprints, too?” Samson scoffed then Able shot a glare his way and Samson diverted his eyes and retreated to the kitchen where Milo and the half eaten bowl of grapes were.

  “I have them.” Sabene filled the screen with pictures and floor plans of a very old, crumbling building.

  “We need to act on this now.” Able quick-stepped to the closed door behind them with a keypad by the handle. “Before they know we are on to them. If Paulo told you, the word may be out.”

  “Paulo is discrete.” Claire arched a brow.

  Samson popped a grape in his mouth and kept his eyes up front.

  “We can’t take that chance.” Able opened the door to the closed room and everyone migrated toward the mystery. “This might be the only time we are ahead, and we are going to use the advantage. Sabene, look for the best entry.”

  Teagan stood to see what was in the room. Guns. More guns. Knives, stun guns, tactical vests, and deadlier stuff that looked like little bombs. The others started to file into the room, but she sat on the back of the couch and just watched. She didn’t know how to handle a gun anyway.

  “Are we doing this now, now?” Sabene called out.

  “No time like the present.” The sound of ripping Velcro came from the room as Able slid into a vest that was both bulletproof and functional with its weapons and extra magazines. “They might not expect us in the daylight.” He holstered a small handgun at his ankle.

  “I’m monitoring cameras around the place so I’ll know if they are coming or going.” Sabene was focused on her laptop.

  “And you know this is the place?” Milo was already out of the room, nothing in hand.

  “It’s the only one condemned out that way, it’s set back, and there is a clear line of sight.” Sabene popped up a map on the screen. “Tactically speaking, it’s the best one to plant yourself in.”

  “You better be right.” Samson loaded a magazine into a black gun and racked it. All of the guns looked the same to Teagan, only the size was discernable.

  “I am.”

  Note to self: fake Sabene’s self-assurance in the future.

  Samson wore a gun slung around his chest, and Able appeared from the room with the same. Rife had on a side holster vest filled with magazines and handguns. Claire disappeared in the bathroom at the top of the stairs and emerged looking like a commando in all black and cargo pants, sticking a handgun into one of the thigh pockets.

  “What?” She held up her palms. “I can’t move in dress clothes. And I’m not leaving anything to chance with this op.”

  Able nodded and stuck loaded magazines into little pockets on his chest and another handgun on his right side. “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “We have to come in from the east on foot. We can park a quarter of a mile out and they might not see us coming.” Sabene put Google maps on the left screen and the sad, dilapidated hotel with broken windows that looked like it had gone through a fire at some point on the right screen.

  “There is some heavy artillery in there; we could get close enough and just bomb the fuck out of them.” Samson rolled a dark green ball that looked like a grenade in his hand.

  “We need to make sure we get all of them in the firefight then.” Rife had a knife sheath hanging from his belt she hadn’t seen before. Given the firepower the team had strapped to their persons, they were expecting to walk into a battle.

  “We don’t use that as our first choice. We need to take Rodney alive,” Able ordered.

  “We need all of them.” Rife crossed his arms. “If this doesn’t work, we’ll be fighting with no end in sight.”

  Able turned his back on the screens and faced the group. “We go in. We go in quiet and hard and make sure we take out everyone.”

  “There’s eight left, by Paulo’s count.” Claire didn’t look to have any weapons on her. “No mercy.”

  A shiver ran down Teagan’s back at the ice in Able’s eyes when she caught his stare. “We’ll stay in at least twos when we get there. Watch each other’s backs.”

  They all started toward the stairs. Teagan pushed herself away from the couch, turning her head to glance back at Sabene, who was packing up her laptop. Arkham stood and circled the chair before snapping to attention beside her. When Teagan took a step forward without looking, she bumped into Able’s hard chest.

  “Where do you think you’re going?�
� Able didn’t move as the rest filed down the stairs.

  “I’m coming with.” She didn’t break his eye contact and pressed her lips together. She couldn’t be expected to stay behind and do nothing.

  “No. You’re not.” He towered over her.

  “You can’t keep me here.” She jutted her chin.

  His brow rose as his stare never waivered. Her skin heated as desire flitted across his eyes. Damn, now she wanted him to tie her up and stay. If she didn’t have an audience, she would’ve kissed him into submission.

  “You’ll stay where I say.” He paused a moment while she stared at him, not relenting one bit. “Sabene will be in the Hummer down the street. You can stay with her.” He reached behind him and a gun appeared in his hand. “Do you know how to use one of these?”

  “Point and pull the trigger.” She’d seen it on TV enough times. Surely it wouldn’t be that difficult if her life were threatened. “I want a comm, too. Don’t shut it off this time.”

  His brows knitted together.

  “You didn’t think I noticed the dead silence?”

  He nodded once. “Stay in the vehicle.” His features more pronounced. “I mean it.”

  “Or what?” The words spilled out in the heat of the moment. She didn’t even know what she meant, but she wanted to start making some choices for herself.

  He didn’t say a word. There were probably a million ways he knew how to keep her where he wanted her, and chances were good she didn’t want to experience any of them.

  She pulled her ponytail to the side and twirled the ends before dropping her hands back to her side, making no effort to move. Right now they were all safe. Once they left the building, there was no guarantee they were all coming back.

  He reached behind her, pulled out her waistband, and tucked the barrel of the gun into the back of her jeans, his hands grazing over her ass before he clenched her hips. A burning sensation crept over her midsection. His gaze dipped to her lips, and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her—deep, inviting, and, in a way, saying good-bye. But he dropped his hands from her skin, the rigidness back in his eyes. He headed down the stairs, his head held high.

  There was no way she was going to be dismissed or sidelined easily. She’d started this, and she was going to see it all the way through.

  * * *

  Able pointed at Samson, Claire, and Milo then ticked two fingers to the left to signal they were to take the first floor and clear it. He and Rife were going up to the top floor. Their comms would stay on silent mode until shit hit the fan.

  This place was a damn trap. A fucking nightmare. The targets could be holed up on any of the ten floors in any number of rooms, but he’d bet it wasn’t the first floor; they’d set up where they had a good vantage point to see people coming. Hopefully, the team had come in on the side the Germans weren’t checking.

  Rife opened the door to the right of the stairwell and went first up the staircase, guns out. They all had their specialty pieces, but the group was using semi-autos at the get-go. They’d still have to aim, but the spray was helpful when death was the mission.

  The stairwell was clear; Rife opened the top-floor door and Able passed through, clearing the hall side to side. They lined up on the right side of the hallway, the side that faced the main entrance to the hotel, and Rife tried the first door handle. Unlocked. It squeaked as he pushed it open. Able entered first and they systematically swept the bathroom and area around the bed.

  All clear.

  They moved down the hallway, repeating their actions with each room, making their way down each floor. The group downstairs undoubtedly was doing the same only heading up.

  It was beginning to look like they’d have to sit on this place until the Germans returned. If they ever did.

  Bang. Bang. Bang. Shots fired downstairs. Both he and Rife turned and ran down the flights of stairs.

  “First floor.” Sabene’s voice mixed with the sound of his own breaths.

  At the door to the first floor, Able held his fist in the air to signal Rife to stop behind him. He peeked his head out and bullets zinged past. He laid down fire to get across the hall into a cubby for a door.

  “Reloading,” he yelled at Rife, who started firing back while Able released his empty magazine, let it drop to the ground, and grabbed another from his vest. “Move,” he ordered as he fired a series of rounds so Rife could join him unharmed.

  “All comms are on,” Sabene said.

  “How many?” Able asked.

  “No firm count yet,” Samson answered. “We’re pinned halfway down, but on it.”

  Able popped out and fired at the movement halfway down the hallway, this time dropping the gunman with a head shot.

  “One down.”

  Rife threw open a door and Able followed him into a ballroom with room dividers only half closed. They stayed along the wall as they hurried to the first faux wall section. A guy swung around the corner of the tall divider and opened fire. There was nowhere to hide. Both he and Rife started firing back, Rife moving to the other side of the room to get a better angle.

  Able pointed his gun straight ahead to the divider and fired through it three times. A guy fell to the ground.

  “Two down.”

  “Mine makes three,” Milo called out.

  Able and Rife progressed through the big room and out the other set of doors back into the hallway.

  “Got another,” Claire joined the conversation.

  “I’m hit in the leg,” Samson called out. “Where the front desk is.”

  “I got him.” Rife hustled down the hallway and to the right where the first body still lay. Able covered him, but no enemy fire returned.

  “You okay?” Able’s heartbeat kicked up as he waited for a response.

  “Yeah, I can make it. But get that bourbon ready.” There was pain in his voice. Samson would let him know if it was serious, but Samson had to get out now that he was hurt. Lame ducks were no good for the cause.

  Able made it to the next event room just in time to see Milo avoid a knife jab. Dammit, there was no clear shot. He ran to help as Milo wielded two blades, slicing into his attacker’s stomach then his throat. Fuck, that was some ninja shit. The cover didn’t fit the pages with this guy.

  There were three assassins left by his count if the intel had been accurate.

  Samson and Rife were on their way out and would find cover and wait in front until the fight was done and Sabene came to get all of them.

  “Another one.” Claire was breathing heavily.

  Two people ran past the doors of the event room heading in the direction his team had entered the hotel.

  “There,” Able yelled and he and Milo took off after the figures. They’d better fucking get both and then find Rodney.

  “Did you see them?” Able asked as he reached the hallway.

  “That way.” Milo nodded to the broken window on the door that led outside.

  Able raised his weapon and went through the door; Milo followed.

  His vehicle, that Sabene and Teagan were supposed to be in parked far away, was making a beeline for the hotel.

  “Fall back, Sabene,” he ordered as he took another step away from the door, clearing the immediate area.

  “I see Samson. We’re coming in to get him.”

  A glint of metal in the brush caught his attention. He kept his weapon raised and ticked two fingers straight ahead and then to the side so Milo knew there was someone they needed to surround.

  The barrel was pointed at the car. Fuck.

  They flanked the bush and Milo moved quickly and silently until his knife was at the guy’s throat. Able hurried over, gun still up.

  Rodney.

  Rodney laid his gun down on the dirt and put up his hands.

  “Tie him up. We need him alive.” Able threw a zip tie from his left cargo pocket to Milo.

  “It’s not going to matter, March.” Rodney put his hands behind his back. His lip curled; his brow
s lowered and pinched together.

  “We’ll see about that.” Able kept his hand on his weapon but supported it with his sling. There was still one more bastard out here somewhere.

  Milo zipped Rodney’s wrists behind his back then forced him to his feet.

  Sabene pulled the Hummer up in the roundabout in front of the hotel, twenty-five feet away.

  A shot rang out and hit the Hummer’s windshield. Able ducked out of instinct then tried to track the shot.

  “Get him back. Don’t let Rodney go,” he shouted to Milo.

  Another bullet zinged past him.

  “Get the fuck out of here, Sabene.” He gritted his teeth and took cover behind a dumpster, loading a new magazine.

  Sabene took off with a squeal of tires, flying past them. He saw Teagan in the passenger seat as a third shot hit her side of the window. Blood dots littered the interior. He saw red. Literally.

  “Ah,” a woman’s voice yelled, and Able’s bowels turned to hot shit.

  “Who’s hit?” He already knew. He just needed to know how badly.

  “I am.” Teagan’s voice cracked in pain.

  This motherfucker was going to die.

  The end of a gun barrel poked out from behind the side mirror on an old Chevy parked across the street. The last asshole alive was firing at Teagan and Sabene from that cover.

  Able hardened the metal of his weapon to his cheekbone and stepped combat style toward the car, firing off rounds consistently.

  The shooter was still firing toward the Hummer.

  Able dove over the car, tackling the bastard. The guy jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. Able rolled away and kicked out the guy’s knee then punched him in the kidney region and the guy bent over in pain. Able got to his feet quickly, grabbing his opponent’s shirt and rushing him to the ground, holding him down with a knee to the chest. Able placed his palm around the asshole’s jaw then his other behind his head and torqued it abruptly to the left with just enough pressure to hear the snap.

  No one shot at people he cared about and got away with it.

  He was quickly back to his feet and headed to the Hummer. Sabene had circled back around to the front.