Page 2 of Ignited

“Then do it!”

“The perp can’t be holding the dead man’s switch down when I cut the wire.”

“But that means—”

“After he takes the shot, I’ll have half a second to cut the wire. Bro. On my mark,” Boomer said.

Dobe said, “Are you crazy? We have to call it.” He raised his voice slightly. “Mission team, prepare to pull out.”

Boomer had his eyes on the video feed now, watching the kids, their eyes wide and full of terror. They were so fucking close to getting them out. He could do it. Lightning fast reflexes, that was him.

“Bro?”

“Just say when.” His brother’s voice was as calm as ever.

“Okay fuckers, get ready.” He hoped the team was listening to him and not leaving, because dammit, they were not walking away while these kids died.

His wire cutters were already around the wire, his hand steady as he whispered the countdown into the headset for his brother. “Three. Two. One.”

His brother took the shot the instant he finished counting. On the screen, they saw the perp’s body jerk as the bullet struck him, but Boomer was already cutting the transceiver power as his hand opened and the detonator began to fall. The body crumpled. The detonator hit the ground and rolled away.

Nothing exploded.

Fuck yeah. “Rescue team clear to enter,” Boomer said. “And move your asses—you have one minute fifty-eight seconds before you get blown to kingdom come.”

They barely had time to get everyone out. The last of the team was running from the building, carrying the kids still in chains, when Dobe looked up from his wristwatch timer and yelled “Hit the dirt!”

Everyone but Boomer ducked and covered, the rescue team shielding the kids with their bodies.

Boomer had to watch.

The central bomb went first, exploding in a glorious fireball and igniting smaller explosives one after the other in a perfect demolition chain. The sky filled with fire and debris, and then it all collapsed in on itself, still burning.

Sheeyit. That sucker was evil and deserved to die, but damn he knew how to make a beautiful explosion.

But before Boomer had time to savor it, Gunn stormed up to him, Dobe right behind him. “What the fuck is the matter with you?” Gunn snarled. “You staked all our lives on your brother’s shooting and a half-second signal delay? Against orders?”

Boomer rolled his eyes. “Since when do I follow orders? And I’d stake my life on my brother’s shooting any day of the week.”

Gunn was still growling, his eyes wolf-gold. “Good for you. If you want to fucking dance with death, do it on your own time. Do not take my team with you. And if you can’t respect the chain of command—and the lives of your team—I’ll pull you from the field. Understood?”

They’d never pull him from the field. His expertise was too valuable.

But Gunn was still holding his gaze, his alpha mojo pressing down on Boomer. He felt his neck bending on its own, a small sign of submission. Boomer fucking hated submitting.

“Whatever,” he muttered. “Stop that shit. You’re giving me a headache.”

“Ask me if I care,” Gunn said, but he eased off on the alpha pressure.

“At least we got the kids out,” Boomer said. “You’re welcome, by the way.” He didn’t expect confetti and fireworks, but he had saved everybody. Except the psycho.

Gunn growled again, took a breath, and let it out. The corner of his mouth creased in something that might be the beginning of a smile. “Yeah. We did.” He paused, then said gruffly, “Want to be there when we take them back to their parents? I guess you deserve to see it.”

Boomer shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. Take a picture or something.”

He didn’t do kids and families and sappy reunions. It was enough to know they were okay, they were going home, and nobody but the bad guy died today.

That was about all you could ask for out of life, wasn’t it?