CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Smoke billowed down the hallway, and even with night vision, Jared saw zip. No activity. No signs of life. Only static in his earpiece. His finely tuned skill of observation was turning up big, fat goose eggs.
“Roman. Rocco.” He tried again, retracing their initial path through the corridors. The hallway ended, forcing him to go right or left. He stilled, listened, and watched. The smoke hung heavier on the right side. Maybe? Fuck it, no sense in wasting time. Right it is. He pounded down the hall, sweeping glances through any door he passed. Still nothing.
Another dead end. How was this possible? Tightness pooled in his chest, his eyes pinching behind his mask. Losing men wasn’t on the agenda. That just wasn’t going to happen. Not again. He couldn’t handle it. Not after Brock had defected to the enemy.
Jared raged and roared, punching the wall with a gloved fist. Twice in one week, he’d punched a wall. The impact should’ve split his skin on impact. But instead the wall… echoed?
False wall. Has to be.
Jared kicked it. Hands out, he ran a pattern around the wall panel, knocking for the perimeter like he was checking for wall studs. Slow seconds ticked by. No telling if Roman and Rocco were in trouble.
Screw this. He didn’t have time. Issuing two kicks as a warning just in case his boys had set up camp nearby, Jared placed a charge at the bottom of the hollow panel. If the hollow panel wasn’t a door, then it was a way into a hidden passage. He bumped his fists against the panel a few times, then hollered, “Move your asses if you hear me.”
He bent, lit the fuse, and hustled back around the corner. Dropping to a knee and shielding his ears and face, he counted to three before it blew.
Bam!
It sounded just like the explosion he’d heard earlier. A flicker of hope passed. Maybe Roman and Rocco had done the same thing, and maybe they weren’t victims of a GSI-made bomb.
Maglite in hand, he beamed through the smoke-filled, dusty passageway and stepped in. The floor sloped at a sharp angle. Spent shells littered the ground, and remnants of spent gunpowder floated, mingling with the particles from his C4 charge. The air tasted metallic, and his nostrils burned.
He looked both directions. Simple choice: up the slope or down. Buck Baer would want out. If Titan chased, he would run. Up it is.
The tunneled slope doglegged, and he rounded the sharp turn. A few hundred yards farther, it did the same thing. The path wove higher, so much that he was sure he would have to hit the surface soon unless somehow they were pushing farther into the side of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
But that wouldn’t make sense. Baer would want to escape. He was a runner, a pansy. All talk and no back up. No way would Baer want a fair fight.
Pop, pop, pop.
Muffled, muted, and far away, was the unquestionable sound of a gun battle. He hauled ass toward the noise. Far ahead, a sliver of light crept into the impossible darkness. Maybe a door, a hatch. Who knows? As long as it was access to the ground game, he could make it work.
“You’re mine, asshole.” Jared tore through the remainder of the distance and stopped short of a door. Sunlight bled through a crack, and he nudged it open. As his eyes adjusted to daylight, the scene focused.
On a wide mountainside clearing, Baer had taken cover behind boulders and was throwing out shots like beads during Mardi Gras. They pinged everywhere. Ricocheted bullets and splintering rocks exploded around Roman and Rocco, and his boys had Baer pinned. He couldn’t go anywhere, except down, and judging by the horizon, that looked like a hell of a fall. Buck Baer wasn’t the kamikaze type.
But for all Baer’s willy-nilly shooting, he was covered. Jared tried to mic Roman and Rocco again. “On your six.”
Neither turned, but Rocco cursed in his ear. “About damn time.”
“This asshole has an artillery stashed up here.” Roman grunted. “And no clear shot.”
Their pissed off voices made him smile. Alive and angry, just the way I like my team on a mission. The radios must’ve been down because of underground distance. He never should’ve doubted his team.
“We’re waiting him out.” Rocco’s rifle banged out on full auto, slicing and dicing against Baer’s boulder. “Mostly waiting him out. The fucker.”
“Has to run out of bullets sometime.” Roman picked up shooting where Rocco left off.
Baer sprayed rapid fire toward them, his aim off. He hadn’t noticed Jared, but Baer wasn’t known for his field acuity. His motives were always selfish, and if Buck Baer was burning through a couple of thousand dollars’ worth of ammo in an hour, then something was—
Womp, womp, womp.
Bingo.
Baer had been waiting on his getaway vehicle. A helicopter roared nearby.
“Hold your fire. Don’t shoot that bird.” He could almost feel his men drop their jaws, but Jared didn’t need a chopper smashing into the side of a mountain. He would have too much to explain and too many people to deal with. This engagement needed to be quiet, strictly Titan versus GSI.
Rocks and dirt flipped and fragmented as Baer continued to fire indiscriminately. He hadn’t noticed that the scene had turned into the Buck-Baer-one-man gun show.
He was such a bad shot. The helicopter approached, dangling a ladder. Two men hung out the cabin door, ready to provide cover. Instead of an assault, Roman and Rocco crouched down, giving Baer’s cover nothing to shoot at.
Baer scuttled over—no finesse or strategy to his awkward departure—and jumped onto the ladder. Watching his unsteady climb was almost worth the hell of the day. He’d obviously not been out of his cushy office in a while. Too damn bad I didn’t bring a video recorder. YouTube gold.
The chopper hovered steadily as the pilot accounted for the novice on the swaying ladder. As the chopper pulled up in a slow climb, it was more than evident that everyone knew GSI’s boss man was as uncoordinated as a new recruit.
Jared shook his head. This was his adversary? Titan wouldn’t take down that pathetic mess with a shot to the back of the head. Too easy. Jared didn’t even want Baer dead—not at that second, at least. Baer needed to suffer. He needed to know that his demise was solely at the hands of Jared Westin, not just the company he’d built.
As slowly as any retreat Jared had ever seen, the GSI helicopter finally left view. Roman and Rocco remained in place. He was betting they had a few choice words for him, but they were smart enough to keep their mouths shut.
“Take it easy, boys.” Jared walked toward them while keeping an eye out for any leftover GSI headaches. “I want Baer myself. He’ll deal with me, that pansy-assed motherfucker.” After Baer had targeted Sugar, Jared wanted him to really feel his revenge.
Sugar and Asal were safe. That was all that mattered on this job. What kind of son of a bitch uses a kid as leverage? If Sugar hadn’t been the reason for the compression in his chest, then Asal would’ve been. Focus on the job well done. Jared cracked his neck, took a deep breath, and wrangled his reactions. “Rocco, touch base with Cash. Tell him we’re still kicking.”
“What the hell?” Roman wiped sweat off his brow.
“Our goal was simple. Extract the innocents. They’re out, so we’re done.” If it were only that simple.
He could picture Baer stumbling around the chopper cabin, asking for high-fives like he was the man. Jared wanted blood. He wanted to watch GSI crumble. But he wanted to be the ones, his men, who took out Baer. A boring gunfight wouldn’t do justice to the ongoing feud with Baer. That required something bigger. Something in Baer’s face. Something so extravagant that Buck Baer would be jealous he hadn’t done it first. God, I hate that fucker.
Roman kicked at a pile of empty shells near his boots. “Dude deserves to—”
“I get that. More than you do. Shut your face and trust me. There’s a bigger picture.”
Rocco clicked off his cell phone. Bad news poured from his stance and downturned smile. “Cash took ’em to see Doc Tuska. Something was seriously wrong with
the kid, and he had her transferred to a children’s hospital. Kid went by ambulance. Cash and crew followed behind.”
Jared ground his teeth and clenched his fists. He couldn’t speak and didn’t know what he would’ve said anyway. Of course Sugar would be upset, but his stomach turned. It was more than empathizing with Sugar. He didn’t know when or how it’d happened, but Asal had become more than a job. It could’ve been all the courage she’d shown escaping Afghanistan. Some people are brought together by fate. Not interested in analyzing that sentiment, he turned and retraced his steps. The sooner he was behind the wheel of a vehicle, the sooner he could check on that kid.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Speed-walking back from the ladies room was pointless. Asal would still be asleep in her hospital bed, right where Sugar had left her. But after a nurse sidetracked her into a pointlessly long discussion, she’d easily been gone for fifteen minutes. That killed her. If Asal so much as batted an eyelash, she wanted to be there just in case.
The hospital room door was open a crack, though she swore she’d shut it. Damn doctors and nurses. She was in a restricted hallway, but there was still noise. Sounds drifted from the nurse’s station, and Asal needed to rest, not be bothered by—
The air in Sugar’s lungs held in place, stuck in her throat and her chest. Her heart hammered like the beat of a drum as she faltered, clinging to the doorjamb. She didn’t dare move forward or breathe. She could only watch.
Jared’s hulking body was perched on the edge of a bedside chair in the dimly lit room. The expanse of his shoulders hung forward, and his chin dipped toward his clavicle. From the side, he looked rumpled, like he’d walked out of battle and into the hospital. Probably because he did.
Asal’s limp fingers were clasped in his steepled hands, almost as though he held her hand in silent prayer. He was massive to her tiny. Powerful to her weak. His black tactical pants and shirt contrasted harshly against the white hospital linens. Jared was her guardian angel, her warrior, praying for the girl in his grip.
Sugar’s heart stole away as she watched him move Asal’s tiny knuckles to his chin and speak too softly for Sugar to hear. His quiet words were lost in the sterile room, amid the beeping machines.
Jared turned his gaze from Asal to the door. Her little hand still encapsulated in his, he nodded hello, then gingerly tucked Asal’s arm under the sheet. Smoothing a bump in the covers, he stood.
Never in Sugar’s life had she seen a collision of opposites that looked so right together. The back of her throat burned, and she still couldn’t swallow. The three of them, together, felt right inside her heart. A special part of destiny’s plan had just revealed itself.
He met her at the doorway. Standing to his full height, Jared towered over her, and she wasn’t short. He loomed larger than memory served and swallowed the space between them with his dark, brooding eyes and chiseled jaw. His shoulders could carry the weight of the world. She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, and her body craved his arms, just to be wrapped against him. Maybe there, she could let go of her concerns and exhaustion.
“Sugar.” He grasped her elbow. “We need to talk.”
His stern words bit like an ice bath. Who am I kidding? Destiny and secret life plans? Anxiety-erasing hugs? Christ. Maybe she did need to see a doctor. No telling what kind of aftereffects she’d suffered from Brock’s sedative. Occasional lovely-dovey delusions were obviously a severe byproduct, and she needed to be hypervigilant to avoid falling into the land of make-believe happiness.
He led her away from the doorway, down the hallway, and her boots dragged. Heavy and lead-laden, they scuffed on the tile floor. Her muscles went on strike, refusing to help, and Jared half-dragged her to their destination.
Sugar didn’t want to hear a lecture about the spark plug, and she didn’t want to talk about GSI or Brock. All she wanted was her mini-fantasy, but the tick flexing in his jaw said that wasn’t a possibility. It never would be, and she needed to pressure-wash the warm fuzzies from her memory.
With a deep breath in, she had her invisible armor up. She still owed him an apology for making Titan’s job harder and for endangering her friends’ lives. A big, fat “I’m sorry” was needed. But she appreciated that he’d made it back to her in one piece.
“You’re safe,” she whispered, thankful that her pleas for safety had worked.
“I am.” His eyes narrowed, maybe trying to read her mind.
Good luck with that, buddy. It was all over the place. But right then, their safety was forefront. “The team is, too?”
He gave a curt nod. “They are.”
“Did you get Buck?”
His face darkened and tension flexed through the chiseled planes of his cheeks. “Baer and I will handle our issues privately. The mission wasn’t to kill him. It was to rescue you.”
She’d never thought that angrily walking out of her house would have had such severe consequences. Guilt bubbled up more quickly than she could choke it down. “I’m sorry. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have left.”
Jared’s jaw flexed again. His full lips were pressed into a tight line. Energy, anticipation, and tension swirled around them, and she struggled to find the right words. She stared at the ceiling, refusing to cry in front of him.
He wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling her into his solid hold. “Damn, Sugar. I’ve wanted to hold you since the second I saw you.” On the scale of one to ten—ten being completely caught off guard—she hovered around a fifteen and watched as he kept on going. “Don’t know what goes on in that pretty head of yours, but, baby cakes…”
Every muscle shivered. She leaned into his embrace, shaking off the astonishment and basking in… him. He smelled of gunsmoke and hard work. Both were delicious and comforting. His solid body warmed her as she lost her mind while surrounded by his strength. Her legs melted, and she nuzzled her torso and head into his hug.
Jared squeezed her and threaded one hand into her hair, pulling it from its disheveled ponytail. His fingers combed, and her eyes closed. She could finally breathe.
“Sweet, sweet, Sugar.” His lips buried behind her ear. “Don’t do that to me again.”
She nodded. “’Kay.”
He pressed a gentle kiss into her hair. “You were wrong. I was wrong. But hell, never again. I can’t handle that again.”
He was wrong? There was something the great Jared Westin couldn’t handle? She wanted to call BS. She wanted to push away and scoff. But nothing in her brain worked, except the head-nodding receptors that she rarely used.
“Promise me, Sugar.”
She nodded again. “Promise. Okay.”
He gave her one more squeeze, then held her in his outstretched arms. His intense gaze could’ve kindled fire, and it turned her insides to a hot, distracted mess.
His rough thumb caressed her cheek. She wanted to lean her cheek into his palm. If his hug could lighten her anxiety, then his kiss could ease life’s burdens. She needed him for more than sating a sexual craving. His touch offered comfort and stability. His caress held the promise of so much more.
He cleared his throat. “I’m assuming you got the same spiel I did. We can’t stay with her tonight.”
Sugar sighed. “It’s frustrating to have her again, then have to leave.” She’d asked, but visiting hours were minimal and almost up. “I’m worried about her safety. Security.”
“Trust me, that’s covered. No one in this world will be under better eyes, with the exception of you with me.”
“I’ve been alone for at least an hour.”
“That’s what you think. You needed some quiet time with your girl. No one would intrude on that.”
“What?”
“I’ve got eyes most places. Even if it’s not my hospital of choice, I’m still able to get the job done.”
Cash and Nicola had dropped her at the hospital. She’d thought they’d left. But had they? And how long had Jared been there? And more importantly, he believed she
was still a GSI target, and why wouldn’t she be?
She shook her head. She wasn’t the kind of chick who ran scared and hid. She would take the protection Jared offered for the time being, but her goal was to get her life back in order.
The image of him hovering over Asal flitted through her mind. That was the life she wanted—Jared, Asal, a cohesive little family. The realization hit her like a half-ton tank. A family? She’d never wanted something like that before. Family was a four-letter word. She had a sister, but they were more like friends than family. Mom and Dad were place-holding names for people who’d had the burden of raising her. That didn’t constitute family.
“What’s going through your mind, Baby Cakes?”
A whole bunch of craziness. Jared might have put up a good game when he’d chased her down, convincing her that two people who didn’t do relationships could fudge their own version of it. But if she mentioned absurd thoughts like family, she bet she would see the back of his head as he ran down the hospital hall. “Nothing. Just worried about Asal. The usual.” The usual lies. An omission was still a lie.
“If you say so.” He shrugged, eyeing her suspiciously. “Why don’t you say goodbye to our girl, and then let’s go.”
Our girl. Her heart fluttered. Jared tortured her even when he didn’t know he was doing it. But he said “our girl.” Sugar’s mind went on a roll. We could be the three amigos, the three musketeers, the three… She couldn’t go there, not just because she couldn’t come up with a third. Jared had tossed out a simple comment, and she was circling them into one big, happy family.
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead as if the little gestures weren’t already killing her. He had no idea, but with every word and every touch, Sugar was losing her mind and dreaming of the impossible. With a quick hug, he spun her toward the door and patted her bottom, scooting her off.
The Titan Series: Military Romance Boxed Set Page 72
