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There were at least ten heavily-armed guards at the entrance, with about a dozen more stationed close to it. Going in alone was a suicide mission.
“No.” They weren’t going to lose anyone on this mission. Especially someone who was practically begging to die. “We go in from the side, over the fence. We make this a snatch and grab, not a full-out war.”
“Still too many armed guys wandering about,” Sandi said. “One way or the other, we’re gonna take fire. Unless, maybe, we wait ’til dark and move then.”
The weight of her words landed heavily on all of them. Nobody argued that they rush in there to save Friday. It was almost six. They all knew she was already gone.
“Eh, boss?” Ignacio said. “I found out who’s running the mine. They aren’t exactly hiding it; there’s a company logo plastered to one of the crates they’re unloading. I’m sending the coordinates.”
When they came through, the team shifted their binoculars to the building.
Gray let out a low whistle. “CommTECH.” The word dripped with disgust.
“This shit is illegal,” Ignacio said.
“I don’t think they care,” Sandi said.
Things had just gotten a whole lot more urgent. “No waiting until dark,” Mace said. “We need to get him out of there fast.”
“I have grenades,” Jeremiah said cheerfully into the silence. “I say we blow the gate sky high and ride out of there with our boy.”
“We can sneak along the fence and plant timed explosions,” Ignacio added. “Attack on several fronts at the same time. Take out as many of them as we can.”
It was as good a plan as any. “Ignacio, Gray, set charges. Jeremiah, get the cars ready and arm everybody. We go in with two vehicles. First car lays down cover, the second finds Striker.” There was agreement. Mace checked the time. “Thirty minutes to set up charges, then we move.”
He hoped Striker was still in one piece when they got to him—otherwise, they would have to burn down the mine and everything in it to prevent their secrets getting out.
Chapter Forty
Friday fell asleep as soon as they’d finished making love. Striker knew she wouldn’t wake up again. Her time had run out. Part of him was relieved, for her sake, that she wouldn’t wake. He didn’t know what the poison would do to her, now that it was active, and he didn’t want her to experience any more pain. This was better, he assured himself. She could sleep through it. That was good, right?
No. Nothing about this situation was good. Nothing.
He sat with his back to the wall, the blanket tent covering them and the woman he loved in his lap. One arm was wrapped tight around her, the other pressed flat over her heart, counting the steady beats. They were strong, her breaths even. There was no visible change—yet. Her lips were still the palest pink. Her skin was still warm. Only the darkening circles under her eyes indicated something was very wrong.
He’d dressed her in his T-shirt because he didn’t want anyone to see her naked. Someone was bound to check on them at some point, especially when they found Kane Duggan dead.
He’d dressed in his jeans and boots, ready to run with her if the occasion allowed. And he hoped it did. He wanted to take her back to the Red Zone. He wanted her in his bed. He didn’t know how long the poison took to work, and he wanted her somewhere safe. Somewhere he could watch over her. Somewhere with people who cared whether she lived or died. He wanted to take her home, to mourn her.
“Damn it.” His eyes stung, and he blinked them hard. He needed to focus. He needed to watch over his woman.
She’s just sleeping, the diamondback said.
Yeah, buddy, she’s just sleeping. He swallowed the knot in his throat.
We take care of her. His reptile snapped free of his body without being called, something Striker didn’t like one bit. It meant he didn’t have as much control over the diamondback as he’d thought.
The rattler slid under Friday’s shirt and curled around her.
Warm here. The diamondback almost purred the words. Don’t worry. I take care of her.
It was impossible to reply. Instead, he brushed Friday’s silken blond hair from her forehead. She was so beautiful, inside and out. Four days. He’d only had four days with her.
“This is bullshit!” He roared the words, hearing them echo off the walls.
Everyone he loved had been taken from him. Three years earlier he’d woken up to find out his family had been dead for decades. Now this. Friday. The only woman he’d ever loved. More than that—she felt like the only woman he ever would love. She felt like she belonged with him.
She does. She belongs to us.
