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He returned the gesture. “Would love to storm the joint, but don’t think that’s a possibility.”
The cop chuckled. “Yeah, maybe not. How about we knock on the front door, and you guys surround the property? Your girl, Cass relayed to us the information about how many are inside. We want minimal casualties.”
“Agreed. I’m sure Cass can arrange for the house alarm to suddenly go off after you knock on the door. Hopefully the crew will scatter. I suspect the two Desert Snake members will run for it after they hear you guys at the door. They won’t want to get caught.”
“No doubt, but we’ll get them. We’ll hang back and let you guys get into position. Will knock on the door in fifteen minutes. That long enough?” the second cop asked.
“Plenty of time.” Ox glanced at his team. “It’s go-time. Cass, you hear what I said?”
“On it. The moment the front door opens to the cops, I’ll trigger the alarm,” Cass responded, her voice calm.
They jogged to the house. They were in position less than ten minutes later. There were plenty of bushes around the back and side of the property.
Ox and Irish had a line of sight into the living room, and he caught his first look at Eveline. He bit back a curse when he spotted the borderline-obscene dress she had on, and the fact that Gerald had his arm on her thigh.
“Keep it locked, Ox,” Irish hissed.
“It’s not your woman that asshole has his hands on.”
“It’s not, but she needs you to be cool. She needs you to be Delta.”
Irish was right; he needed to switch back into soldier mode, the mode he’d been since they left Alliez’s office. The mode had disintegrated when he saw the woman he loved. Ox would find it again, for her.
“Rain is coming,” Cass said over the comms.
Ox gripped his firearm and switched back to the Delta he’d been all those years ago. Nothing would make him do anything that would hurt Eveline.
Nothing.
Gerald’s hand was creeping up her thigh, getting perilously close to her ass when all hell broke loose.
Eveline clapped her hands over her ears, the location of her former boss’s hand forgotten, as the screech of the house alarm blared to life.
Arms banded around her, squeezing the breath out of her.
“Whatever you do, don’t move, bitch,” Gerald snarled in her ear. The switch from affable to nasty had been completed in a flash.
She froze at the unmistakable poke of a gun pressed against her side.
The crew had run out of the room the moment the alarm sounded.
Paul was nowhere to be seen. Looked like he’d taken off, too. Why hadn’t Gerald? Why had he grabbed her?
Glass shattered behind them, and Gerald swung her around, the gun still against her body, but now she was fully in front of him.
A human shield.
Two men covered head to toe in black stalked into the room guns pointed at them.
“Let her go, Morkham.”
“Kyle,” she whispered. Her heart took off, part terror, and part relief that he’d come for her.
“What’re you going to do, Matthews? Kill me? I’m innocent. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Was Gerald out of his mind?
How could he say he’d done nothing wrong, when he’d kidnapped her, drugged Kyle, and now had a gun to her side?
