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He didn’t look away, because that’s exactly what she was trying to do—distract him.
“Something tells me you’re an important piece of this puzzle,” he said.
“I’m nothing to no one,” she said, raising her chin.
“That’s not true,” Jackson said, knowingthatwas the truth.
Her eyes locked on him and something flickered in them, but a clapping roar from below pulled Jackson’s attention, making the distraction she needed.
She darted forward and he reached for her but she raised her elbow, slamming it into his face.
He grunted, cursing under his breath.
He blocked another blow but she put up a good fight.
Jackson reached for her wrist, grabbing hold of it, pulling her in.
The unexpected scent of roses infiltrated his mind as he clasped her hands behind her back.
But she didn’t give up. She raised her knee, most certainly aiming for his groin, but he anticipated her move. He didn’t foresee that she would try and overpower him by lunging at him, though.
Nor did he foresee the attack from the man behind him.
An arm around his neck loosened his grip on her and she stepped back. She looked alarmed for a minute, but if he’d held any hope she’d help him out of this situation he’d have been disappointed. She ran past him and left him to his demise.
But Jackson wasn’t ready to lay down.
He drew what little air he could and braced his body, flinging himself back to headbutt the man behind him.
It was enough to break free of the man’s grasp.
Jackson swung around and raised his fist, landing it into the jaw of his attacker.
He raised his foot and slammed it into the man’s stomach, knocking him off balance.
Jackson grabbed his cuffs and tied him to the metal railing.
He looked at the stairs—no one else was coming up.
He looked over his shoulder, but the woman was gone.
Jackson would deal with her later. He ran around to the railing, reloaded his weapon, and fired at men below.
He gave his men on the ground just enough breathing room to take advantage and within a few minutes the warehouse was eerily quiet.
Jackson exhaled a long breath and wiped the sweat off his brow.
He looked at the shadows again, almost expecting to see her, but he knew she was gone by now.
He took the stairs two at a time. “Let’s open these packages and see what we have. There’s a man upstairs who can be interviewed—load everyone capable of talking into the vans. Everyone else work on sweeping this warehouse. Let’s move as quickly as we can... we don’t know if they have friends arriving soon. Is anyone hurt?” Jackson looked over his men in full tactical gear. Everyone was standing but there were a few blood-stained shirts. Jackson didn’t know if it was their blood or if it belonged to the men on the ground.
A few nodded and he grouped them together while their team medic looked over them.
Jackson moved toward the closest pallet and pulled a pocketknife from his pants, cutting through the plastic wrap.
He opened a box of what were supposedly heat-therapy patches and cut it open. White powder filled it.
“Test this,” Jackson said as he passed it to one of his colleagues.
