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There was a long pause, a pause where she imagined her sister climbing out of a leather seat and being shot by a huge idiot wearing a USA baseball hat, a pause in which her throat dried and her heart froze. And then her sister’s voice, slightly garbled. “In mine shaft. Fence down. You close?”
Gracie had gotten inside? She’d gotten inside and turned off the fence. Whoa. Take that, American Ninja Warrior. You’re no match for a half-naked redhead with mad cyber skills.
“Almost.”
Static. “ETA?”
“Ten. Copy.”
The crackle of a mic. “Can’t wait.”
Fuck. “I’ll catch up.”
“Roger.”
Justice clicked off, slid her body down while steering over bumpy ground and closer to the gate. She’d probably be shot at. Good thing this thing was bulletproof. If someone did shoot, her best bet was to drive straight through the fence.
Sure it would attract a lot of attention, but she wasn’t exactly in stealth mode right now.
She neared the fence. There were no lights on along it. No one shot at her. Her heart rate picked up. She had the craziest feeling, the most insane idea. She could still sneak inside.
She slowed, parked the car, got out, pocketed the key. She looked around. It was quiet. No guards. The alarm had stopped.
Was that Gracie’s doing? She definitely couldn’t hear the hum of the fence. She drew closer. Not that she didn’t trust her sister, but someone could’ve turned it back on.
She chucked a bottle of Benadryl she’d found in the glove compartment. It hit the fence and rattled to the ground. Fence still off.
Okay. It could go back on at any moment. She could end up at the top, legs straddling either side when the juice came back on.
“J. Over here.”
Flicking up her NVGs, she looked through the fence. At the end of the stable, Tony stood, dressed in a guard’s uniform. He waved to her. “Come on.”
He stepped back into hiding.
Tony. Brilliant, wonderful Tony. He’d taken out a guard, stolen his uniform.
Slinging her rifle on her back, she took a running leap, hit the fence with a clang, and scrambled over. She landed like she’d been training for this her whole life—she had—and sprinted forward.
She ran around the side of the stables, her nose prickling at the smell of manure, and spotted him. She reached for Tony’s hand. He reached for hers. She skidded to a stop.
Walid.
Walid stood behind Tony with a group of armed men.
“Get down!” Quick as boiling hatred, she brought up her sidearm. Tony stepped up, intercepted her hand, pulled her forward, twisted her wrist into a lock. She cried out, dropped the Sig.
He caught the gun, released her. “You need to come with us.”
It took her a minute. It took her a lifetime. It took her breath away.
“You?”
Chapter 69
The men at the bottom of the stone stairs froze. Blinked. They were looking from light into darkness. Perfect.
Sandesh rolled Dmitri off his shoulders, dropped, and shot. Missed.
One of the men, the better trained, belly-crawled to safety. The other stayed in the open, reached for his gun.
Poor guy.
Sandesh shot. The man fell.
The alarm thrummed against the walls like a stone heartbeat. On the step behind him, Dmitri stopped convulsing. Sandesh reached over to confirm what he strongly suspected.
Surprise. Dmitri still had a pulse.
Getting his hands under Dmitri’s armpits, he dragged him back around a corner and sat him against the wall. “Dmitri, Dmitri, is there another way out?”
Sandesh listened to the calls coming through the two-way to see if the guard below called for backup. Lots of noise. People checking in. But most of it had nothing to do with him or the guard he’d left handcuffed.
The real problem was at the gate. The ranch was under attack. Two guards had been shot. Shot from a distant hill. Hell of a shot by the sound of it.
Warmth rolled into his chest. Justice. His mother had always told him a man shouldn’t keep his woman waiting, so he better get moving.
He patted Dmitri on his shoulder. The Russian was as good as dead. Even with the best and most immediate medical attention. And he wasn’t getting either. “Rest,” he said. “There is more.”
Dmitri’s eyes flashed open, cleared, and focused on Sandesh. “Kill Walid.”
His eyes dropped to half-lidded, dulled, and froze. And the once-real human, the broken and tortured body, seemed nothing more than an empty reminder of too much pain and anger.
Sandesh closed the lifeless eyes. The two-way squawked to life beside him, and the guy with the Southern accent, in a voice a hell of a lot less cheerful, said he was handling, “That mess in the mines.”
They were coming for him.
Ready or not.
Ready.
* * *
Crouched behind Dmitri’s body, by the only exit, the one that led down and then up, Sandesh wasn’t sure if the silence was a good or a bad thing.
Actually. He was sure it was bad.
The guards had organized. They’d changed frequency on their two-way. He wished he knew how many guards were in the camp. How many were coming for him.
He had two semiautomatics, full clips, taken from the torture guards. He’d wait, wait for them to come through that damn door.
Too bad his fight-or-flight reflex sang so loudly it was hard to stay put. Waiting was never fun. It never felt like you were being proactive.
But if he tried to go down that tunnel, the one that led to some kind of elevator—he’d heard the thing creaking to a stop a short time ago—he’d be killed.
He forced himself not to respond to the nerves that told him to fight, fight, fight. He let out a breath. Calm. Reason. He emptied his mind. He aimed his gun.
The stone wall swung open with a whoosh. Wait for a visual. Justice was here. It might be her. It might. Wait.
It wasn’t. A man, a huge guy with a USA baseball hat, stepped out, weapon down. Down? USA?
A woman’s voice came from behind him. “Don’t shoot.”
Sandesh hesitated. USA turned to the side as if to push someone back. The person shoved him in the ribs, stepped in front of him.
“Gracie?” What the hell was she wearing? “You’re rescuing me in your underwear?”
Gracie shrugged. “All the cool kids are.” She eyed Sandesh—shirtless, pants ripped. He wasn’t exactly styling. Gracie elbowed USA in the ribs again. “Don’t shoot this guy. He’s with me.”
Sandesh lowered his weapon and climbed out from behind Dmitri’s body. “What’s going on?”
Gracie jerked a thumb at the big guy. “This is American Ninja Warrior.” She gazed up at him. “I don’t trust him.”
The big guy grinned down at the feisty redhead. Sparks flew. Temperatures rose. Global warming increased. He shook his head, reached a hand out to Sandesh. “Better known as Agent Leif McAllister of the FBI. You can call me Dusty.”
The FBI working in Mexico? And he had a Southern accent. Sure. Why not?
Gracie stepped forward. “Sorry, Sandesh, there’s really no time for a debrief.” She tilted her head back. Her cheeks were flushed. Excitement? Nerves? Something else? “This guy has gotten me safe this far. And he says he can get us out of here so we can reconnect with the rest of our crew.”
“I can get you out, if you follow my rules.”
She stopped, bit her lip as if remembering an important detail. “After we kill Walid.”
Sandesh eyed the two of them. Shrugged. “Kill whoever you want. I’m only interested in finding Justice.”
Dusty laughed. “You and half the world’s population.”
Chapter 70
Yellow lights perched along the barn cast a broken shadow across Tony’s face, making him look two-faced. Appropriate. Tony’s eyes seemed a thousand years old. “I can explain.”
He could explain? Explain betraying the League? Betraying her? Betraying the entire family? Letting Bridget take the blame for his actions?
No. Her brain stuttered over the idea, confused. So confused. Because his eyes, Tony’s eyes, stayed on her, stayed locked on her, and they said, Trust me. This isn’t what you think.
