He turned the knife over, the familiar feel grounding him. With any luck, Ramsey would lead the charge — give Coulter one last chance to take the fucker out before he faded.
Only this time, he wouldn’t stop.
It didn’t matter how many men, how many bullets. He’d take the bastard with him — ease just a fraction of his guilt before he died.
A smile twitched his lips, the blood loss blurring his vision, reducing the foggy landscape into various shades of gray. He eased a photo from his pocket, stared at the image of him and Neve a buddy had snapped just before she’d left his unit.
Her sacrifice in the hopes of giving them a chance.
Pain seeped into his chest, the cruel irony slapping him in the face. He’d always thought they’d have more time. Had used his work as an excuse — a buffer to hide the fact his feelings for her scared the shit out of him.
Had missed the opportunity to tell her he loved her.
The words repeated in his head, all that adrenaline sputtering like a dying battery. He slowed his breathing, focused on giving the men one last fight, when a figure slipped out of the mist. No heavy clomping like the men who’d chased him, just an easy shift — light, precise — each step perfectly balanced.
They stopped, dark tactical gear beating back the fog, a long-range rifle slung over one shoulder. Dew beaded on a mass of brown hair, a familiar set of blue eyes staring back at him.
The figure inched closer, lowering a neck gaiter before crouching beside him, a small smile lifting one corner of their mouth.
Coulter blinked, half-expecting the vision to fade, but she was still there when he opened his eyes. The face he’d seen every night in his dreams for the past month. The one he knew would torment him until the moment he died.
She swept her gaze the length of him, a frown marring her gorgeous face. “You never did do anything half-assed, Coulter.”
That voice.
So real.
So haunting.
He reached out, took her hand, noting how it fit perfectly in his. “You’re dead.”
Her smile fell, something raw, unfettered, taking its place. “It’s a long story. But for now, we need to get you out of here.” She leaned in, brushed her thumb along his jaw. “God, I’ve missed you. Never thought I’d see you again.”
He shifted, nearly blacked out. “You’re not real. This…”
“Shhh. Rest. We’ll get you fixed up. And once you’re healed, we’ll talk. Because you just walked into a viper’s nest, baby, and there’s no way this kind of transgression will go unanswered.”
Coulter blinked, her voice washing in and out of pitch as he squeezed her hand, staring at her face as the world faded, those blue eyes following him into the darkness.
CHAPTER FOUR
Neve sat wedged in the back of the blacked-out SUV, Coulter’s hand sandwiched between hers, his head resting on her lap. The scent of rain-soaked wool and iron weighed down the air, Coulter’s blood sticky against her skin.
Scout raced along the rain-slick street, engine whining as she red-lined the revs, flew down one road, fishtailed around a tight corner, then hammered it along the next. Headlights tracked their progress from behind, the two large trucks slowly gaining.
Neve snapped her focus back to Coulter when he groaned, drinking in his profile — the familiar curve of his jaw, the easy symmetry of his face. The one she’d been picturing every second of every day since Finch’s experiment had burned her life to the ground — taken what had mattered most.
Taken him.
She brushed her hand along his cheek, smiling at the stubble. The guy was handsome at the best of times. Toss in a five-o’clock shadow or partial beard…
It fluttered her stomach, kicked up her pulse.
A shot cracked behind them, the bullet pinging off the back end, a handful of sparks lighting up the dark. Scout cursed, slalomed around some oncoming traffic, then jumped the curb cutting off a corner before sliding onto another road.
She glanced back. “These assholes are persistent. Have we decided where we’re taking him?”
Neve lowered her window, waited until the pursuing trucks zeroed in on them again, then fired three shots, two punching through the grill, the other dead center of the windshield. The vehicle swerved, rode the curb for a moment, its partner moving in beside it, before shifting back into place.
