Текст книги "Collateral Damage"

Автор книги: Kaylea Cross

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-One

Liam’s boots pounded on the asphalt as he raced for the building where Honor was trapped, just thirty yards ahead. Up ahead in the distance he heard a burst of automatic fire and his gut dropped.

Hang on, baby, just hang on for me. I’m coming. Another minute was all he needed to catch up and end this. Please, baby…

“I got your six,” the MP yelled at him, several paces behind.

Liam didn’t respond. His body flooded with adrenaline, he leaped up the five concrete steps with a single stride and smashed his boot into the door lock with all his might. The metal snapped, gave. One more solid kick, and the door swung open. Weapon up and trained into the darkness beyond, Liam scanned the room, the eerie silence filling him with dread as his eyes adjusted to the dimness. What he saw inside made his heart seize.

A soldier lay crumpled on his side in the hallway near the door to an office, his eyes half-open and bullet holes peppering his chest. A pool of blood surrounded him, already congealing on the linoleum floor. Unmoving, making no noise. Dead.

“Shit,” the MP breathed as he came up behind him, weapon aimed.

Liam didn’t answer, all his focus shifting to the office door standing open down the hall, riddled with bullet holes. He motioned to the MP to shut the last door behind them, so the light streaming in wouldn’t backlight them. His pulse throbbed in his ears as he carefully entered the room.

Empty.

More bullet holes pockmarked the walls, the desk and cabinets, as though the shooter had sprayed random bursts of fire in a haphazard attempt to kill everyone in the room.

Then his gaze landed on a wide smear of blood staining the carpet. Liam followed it toward the far doorway of the office. Whoever had been wounded had gone through it, and likely the gunman too. He was terrified it would lead him to Honor’s body.

He stepped into the open doorway, checked to make sure the hallway was clear. Faint light coming through the windows and the open exterior door at the far end of the corridor allowed him to see the blood trail as it continued down the hall. His rubber-soled boots were almost silent on the floor as he hurried toward the far exit door, standing open a foot or so.

He paused when he heard a muffled groan, whipped his rifle toward the figure of a man edging out of the doorway of another office. “Hands up and don’t fucking move,” Liam snapped as he approaching the wounded man.

Behind him, the MP flipped on a Maglite and aimed the beam at the suspect. The man was now lying sprawled on his back with one hand pressed to his belly, his dark skin glazed with sweat and blood pouring out of the wounds in his stomach. Liam kept his eyes on the man’s hands, which were empty. He could still have a weapon close by though.

While the MP kept his weapon trained on the man, Liam knelt and quickly checked him for weapons. He was not only unarmed, but bleeding out. Still conscious, his pain-glazed eyes focusing on Liam. They widened slightly in what seemed like recognition, although Liam didn’t know him. “Hon-or,” he rasped weakly.

Liam gripped the man’s shoulder, urgency flooding him. “You saw Honor? Where is she?”

The man rolled his eyes toward the far door. “An-drews…after…her…” One bloody hand came up to grab Liam’s wrist. “H-help her…”

Andrews. Whoever he was, he was going down. “I will.” A vow, one he’d die keeping.

“You go, I got him,” the MP said, and Liam surged to his feet, took off toward the far door. It flew open under the force of his shoulder. Weapon up, Liam exited the building and visually swept the area just in time to see a man carrying a rifle disappear around the corner of the next building.

Liam leaped off the steps and charged after him. A cold, deadly rage burned in his chest, raising the hair on his arms. That fucker Andrews was a dead man walking.

****

Girard was a dead woman.

Andrews could barely contain his elation as he ran after her. He’d only done coke a couple times in his life but this rush felt exactly like that—an insane jolt of endorphins blasting through his system, so intense he could barely think. His heart was beating out of control and he was panting like he’d been running for miles instead of a few hundred yards.

She’d been hurt from a fall on the stairs, slowing her down slightly, but he’d decided this was better. He’d given her just enough lead time to let her think she might have a chance at getting away, but not enough that he couldn’t maintain a visual on her. He was good enough with a rifle that he probably could have picked her off at this range, but he was better at hitting a stationary target than a moving one.

Besides, he liked knowing she was afraid. Got off on knowing she was running for her life, panicked and looking over her shoulder for him every step of the way. His cock hardened as he imagined her fear, so vivid he could almost taste it.

Helos were still in the air and he heard the occasional jet fly by but no one was after him yet. He still had time. A few people were running away from his position. One or two of them shot him a nervous look when they saw him holding the rifle but kept going when he didn’t take aim at them. He wanted them to think he was one of the defenders, here to help end the threat.

In reality he was one of the hunters, but focused on one target in particular.

Up ahead he caught a flash of red-gold hair under the lights on the side of a storage building. Stupid of her not to stick to the shadows. Not that shadows would have helped her live much longer. Another wave of excitement flashed through him. He couldn’t wait to corner her, drink in the terror in those wide aqua eyes as he aimed the muzzle of his weapon at her. He wanted to watch her panic, hear her fucking beg for her life before he killed her.

“You’re dead, bitch,” he mumbled to himself, keeping to a steady jog as he followed. Triumph filled his veins. She represented everything he hated, and all the reasons why his life had gone to shit. Now she would pay the ultimate price for what she’d done to him.

He’d already killed Ipman and Smithers; once he killed Girard there’d be no one left to identify him as the killer except that civilian with them, and there’s no way the man could ever identify him given the low lighting and how fast everything had happened. He was long gone now anyway. By the time anyone reviewed the CCTVs and other security systems it would be too late, Andrews would already be on his way south.

The other four shooters were from sleeper cells here in the States attached to Safir’s network. He’d helped them get on base by giving them fake military IDs and uniforms he’d stolen. They would all be long dead by now, a calculated sacrifice made by Safir and his network. They’d each smuggled their disassembled M-16s one member had provided for them onto the base by hiding the components in various places in their vehicles. His fingerprints were on file but he’d worn gloves to avoid leaving prints. As soon as Andrews killed Girard he’d dump his weapon and escape to the barracks with everyone else and wait until the base wasn’t on lockdown before making his escape.

The money he’d been promised would be in his bank account by now. All he had to do was make it off base, find an ATM and access enough cash to get across the border into Mexico, where he’d start over. He’d live like a fucking king the rest of his days.

Up ahead, a door slammed shut in the building Girard had just entered. He smirked. The stupid bitch had just given herself away again.

Andrews smiled to himself and curved his finger around the trigger as he increased his pace, anticipation curling in his gut. He had a fresh mag loaded and ready to go, and another one in his pocket just in case. He’d make sure he pumped her full of enough holes in non-lethal places first, then listen to her scream in agony. Maybe he’d finish her off after that, maybe he wouldn’t. He hadn’t decided yet. Maybe he’d just let her lie there and bleed to death alone.

His dick got even harder at the thought but he ignored it, focused on the rush of being on the cusp of exacting revenge. The game of cat and mouse had been fun but now it was time to end this.

In another minute it would be over and he’d be able to start his new life, feeding off the satisfaction that he’d gotten his revenge for years to come.

****

He was gaining on her.

Honor’s breath sawed in and out of her aching lungs as she ran down the length of the storage warehouse, dodging pallets of equipment and supplies. Her left upper arm was throbbing where a bullet or ricochet had hit her, and so were the bruises from where she’d landed after her fall on the stairs but she barely felt any of it through the haze of adrenaline.

She had to escape. Had to lose him. Ipman was likely dead and she didn’t know about Smithers but if either of them were still alive, at least they had a chance with Andrews chasing her.

Through the windows above her, light streamed in from streetlights and from the building across the road. Her gut reaction was to hide but if she stayed in here she’d be trapped. She needed to lose him completely. Get out the far door of this building and veer off to the next before he saw her.

She stumbled over something on the floor. Throwing out her hands, she barely caught herself before her face smashed into the concrete. When she shifted her foot hit something soft. It moved. Scrambling onto her knees, Honor looked down, squinting in the dimness.

A body.

She sucked in a breath and jerked back, but the man was already dead. Her gaze fastened on his outstretched hand and the pistol in it. Heart in her throat, Honor snatched it from his limp grasp.

Rapid footsteps approached the warehouse, moving closer to her left.

He’d found her.

Honor’s gaze locked onto the far door. Her entire body tensed, a wave of panic flooding her. No time to run now. All she could do was hide, and be ready to stand and fight when he came within range.

She checked to make sure a round was chambered then aimed it toward the door as she edged backward. If she had to die, she was going down fighting, to her last breath and pump him full of as many bullets as she could fire off before she fell.

Her head snapped up when she heard a male voice shout her name. It was faint but she heard it clearly over the pounding of her heart.

“Honor, stay behind cover!”

Liam. He’d come for her. And Andrews was between them, waiting with an automatic weapon.

A burst of raw terror washed over her a split second before a burst of automatic fire opened up.

Andrews was firing at Liam.

Without making a conscious decision she was on her feet and lunging back toward the door. It flew open under the force of her kick, the impact traveling from her boot up the length of her leg. Pistol up, she stepped outside in time to catch sight of Andrews moving away from her to face the threat.

As she watched, the barrel of a weapon peeped out from behind the corner of the next building. Andrews fired at it. Honor held her breath. Andrews paused then turned, heading back toward the other side of the building, as though he’d heard something over there. He’d taken a half dozen steps when Liam carefully emerged around the corner and started to drop to one knee, weapon up.

Andrews whirled to face him before Liam’s knee had even touched the ground.

“No!” Her scream of warning tore from her lips.

Too late.

Andrews fired first.

Honor watched in horror as Liam grunted and dropped before rolling away behind the edge of the building and out of sight.

He’d shot Liam.

Something inside her snapped. Pure, blinding rage overtook her, unlike anything she’d ever known.

Alerted by her cry, Andrews began to whirl toward her.

She was too far away to get a shot off, but within range of Andrews’s rifle.

The barrel of his weapon started to shift toward her. There was no one else to help. If she could get close enough, she had a clear shot.

Beyond caring what happened to her, her sole focus was on killing Andrews so she could get to Liam. She charged away from the warehouse, pistol gripped in both hands as a scream of fury erupted from the deepest part of her.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Only another few seconds before she’d be within pistol range.

Honor watched the muzzle of Andrews’ weapon raise toward her as if it was a movie being shot frame by frame. Every millimeter of movement distinct, crystal clear.

She felt no fear as she went straight for him. Only fury and the need to drop him to get to Liam.

Andrews was going down, by her hand.

She didn’t flinch at the bark of the rifle as Andrews opened fire in her direction. Rounds whined like angry wasps as they zipped past to her right. She instinctively veered away but didn’t stop. Her hands remained steady around the pistol, her right index finger curved around the trigger.

Andrews pivoted to follow her movement, swung the barrel of the rifle toward her again.

Now.

Still aiming center mass, she fired before he could correct his aim, squeezing the trigger.

Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop.

She fired off five rounds in rapid succession, catching Andrews in the chest as he half-turned toward her. The impact made his hands slip on the weapon. His next spray of bullets went wide, one arm falling to the side as he cried out and went down on one knee.

She’d hit him. His body armor had saved him from where she’d hit him in the chest, but she’d hit him somewhere.

Body armor couldn’t protect him from a headshot though.

She stopped in place and began to raise the pistol higher.

Sudden movement to her right jerked her out of her weird slo-mo world. Her gaze whipped toward it.

Liam was moving toward her from the edge of the building he’d rolled behind, rifle in his hands, butt to his shoulder. She refocused on Andrews, on one knee now, blood dripping from his right hand as he struggled to bring his weapon up. He was down, but not out.

Aiming at his head, she fired at the same time Liam did.

A hole appeared in the center of Andrews’ forehead where she’d hit him, a red mist exploding around his head as Liam’s round took half of his face off. Andrews dropped to the ground like a sack of cement, lying crumpled with his legs twisted beneath him at an awkward angle.

Her gaze shifted to Liam. He still had his weapon aimed at Andrews as he charged forward. He kicked the man’s rifle from his limp hand, sending it clattering across the asphalt. The roar of blood in her ears subsided, replaced by an overwhelming silence. She wobbled on her feet, slowly lowered her weapon, her fingers welded around it.

Liam glanced down at Andrews. When he looked up at her, the grim set to his expression confirmed what she already knew, given that half his skull had just been blown out.

Dead.

Relief flooded her, the sudden drop in adrenaline taking the starch out of her legs. Liam set his weapon down and stood, his gaze raking over the length of her body. “Are you okay?” he demanded, voice sharp.

Locking her knees, Honor swallowed and forced a nod, unable to take a single step forward.

Liam ran to her. She held back a sob of pure relief when those warm, strong arms banded around her and crushed her to his wide chest. Honor gripped him around the ribs and buried her face against his shirt, feeling the solid plates of his body armor beneath the fabric. If he hadn’t been wearing them, he’d have died right in front of her a minute ago.

Liam reached back to take the pistol from her, slid it into the back of his waistband. He held her tighter when she shuddered, his mouth against her ear. “It’s okay, sweet pea, I’ve got you. It’s all over.”

But was it? There might be other shooters, other conspirators Andrews had been working with. How long had he been planning this? How had she and her NCOs missed the signs? Her gut had warned her the guy was off. Why hadn’t she been more vigilant?

“S-Smithers,” she rasped out. “Ipman. He sh-shot them.”

“I know, I saw them. Someone’s with them now. One of them, a master sergeant, he was still alive. An MP was helping him.”

“Smithers,” she whispered as a hot rush of tears flooded her eyes.

“Shh, not right now. Just hold onto me and breathe. It’s all over. You’re safe and Smithers is gonna be okay.”

She didn’t speak, just clung to Liam and let his body heat seep into her cold skin. She was shaking all over, a fine, rapid tremor that she couldn’t control. Her breathing was choppy, her teeth chattering as she stood in his embrace.

“You were so brave, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough. “So fucking brave, you broke my heart.”

She didn’t feel brave right now, she was shaking apart and her face was wet with tears. Liam murmured something else to her but she didn’t understand the words. Her body and brain were shutting down, trying to protect her from the horrors she’d seen tonight. She fought off the haze trying to envelop her, took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here.” Liam wrapped a heavy arm around her waist and she was glad for the contact. His touch helped ground her.

Safe in his solid grip, Honor walked away from Andrews’ body as fast as her wobbly legs would allow her.

****

Liam was worried as hell about her as he drove her home hours later.

Honor sat silently in the passenger seat beside him, staring out her window. She hadn’t said a word since they’d left the base ten minutes ago. He knew it was partly shock and partly exhaustion, but he was concerned it went a lot deeper than that.

She’d already been through her fair share of combat stress at Bagram. This was different.

From the bits and pieces of what she’d told him and things he’d heard over the past few hours, he’d been able to get a pretty clear picture of what she’d been through. Not only had she been hunted by that traitorous fuck Andrews, she’d also witnessed the drone strikes—there would have been more had the Air Force not managed to shoot a third drone down before it could attack the base—and seen two of her soldiers mowed down in cold blood.

Seeing those mothers and kids shot down had to be devastating for her. He knew it had taken a toll on her emotionally and psychologically, no matter how much she wanted to pretend it hadn’t.

He reached across the console to grasp her hand and squeezed it. Her fingers were ice cold. She looked over at him, gave him a tiny smile so forced it was almost brittle. “You’re freezing,” he admonished, angling the dash heat vents toward her.

“Can’t seem to warm up,” she murmured, tucking her free hand between her thighs and sinking down against the seat. The heaters were already on high and she was wearing one of his sweatshirts.

Liam rubbed her chilled fingers, wanting to get her home as soon as possible. They’d been stuck on base in separate areas for over seven hours after the shootout with Andrews. They’d both undergone questioning by base officials and various intelligence agencies, including the CIA, FBI and DHS. He’d hated being separated from her in the aftermath of something so traumatic but he’d had no choice. When he’d finally seen her again he’d taken one look at her face and known she’d reached her limit.

She’d stood there in the office hallway, quiet and pale, her inner light shut off like someone had unplugged her. At some point they’d bandaged her left upper arm where a ricochet had hit her and cleaned up all her cuts and abrasions, but no one could ease the pain she was suffering inside. Not even him. He’d wanted to hold her again so badly but they’d taken her away for more questioning before he could go to her.

Security had kept the entire base on lockdown until they could confirm all the shooters—five of them, including Andrews—were dead and the missing drones were accounted for. Medical crews had been kept busy helping the wounded. The hospitals in the area were overwhelmed with the number of casualties brought in. Clean up details had been dispatched on base to take the dead away to be identified at a warehouse now serving as a morgue. Authorities were looking for the people responsible for the three stolen drones, but initial reports kept pointing back to the same name.

Safir Khan.

Rahim’s former underling, working from either Afghanistan or the tribal region of Pakistan. Now presumed to be hiding in the mountainous region straddling the border between the two countries. The bastard had killed their president and killed dozens of soldiers and civilians.

His days were numbered. Every intelligence agency in the western world was looking for him now. Liam had good friends back at Bagram who even now were hunting that asshole down. Once they found him they’d send him straight to hell.

“Almost home,” he said to Honor as he took the exit that would take him to her place. By now the entire world would be feeling the shockwave of the attack. The Vice President would be sworn in as President shortly, but Liam wasn’t interested in watching. All he cared about was being there for Honor.

“God, it feels like weeks since I’ve been there instead of hours.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Felt like ages since he climbed into the cockpit yesterday morning.

He parked in her driveway and jumped out to open her door for her. She slid out and allowed him to help her down, didn’t say anything when he wound an arm around her waist and walked her to the garage door.

When he punched in the code she glanced up at him. “You’re staying the night, right?”

He hated that she’d even think he’d leave her now. “Baby, I’m not leaving your side for the next twenty-four hours.” And only then because he had to report back to work. His commanders had given him a little time off because of what had happened to Honor.

She seemed relieved by that and again Liam was floored that she’d been worried he might leave her alone after what she’d just been through.

He closed the garage door behind them while she went in through the mudroom. When he came into the kitchen he found her standing at the counter, her back to him as she stared out at the gray, pre-dawn sky. Liam set his keys and wallet on the island and crossed to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Honor sighed and leaned back against him, closing her eyes. He knew she had to be exhausted and he just wanted to take care of her. He nuzzled her hair and she turned in his arms, pressing her nose into the base of his neck and breathing him in as she slid her hands up his back. Liam hugged her close, his whole body tightening at the feel of her against him. It had been so close out there tonight. He’d almost lost her, would have died himself earlier if not for his body armor.

“Do you know how much I love you?” she whispered, her voice slightly unsteady.

“I’m hoping it’s even half as much as I love you,” he said, holding her tighter. God, he loved the feel of her. All warm and soft against him, her breasts cushioned against his chest and her belly pressed to his hardening cock. He tried to ignore it but having been apart for so long combined with the after effects of the firefight, he wanted to strip her naked and take her right here on the kitchen floor.

Lifting her head, she looked up at him, her expression turning fierce. “I love you so much I didn’t care if I died as long as I stopped him from killing you,” she said, the sudden fire burning in her eyes making his heart leap and his cock throb. She was staring up at him like he was the only man on earth, the yearning in her gaze spiking his building arousal. “When I saw him turn that weapon on you I went crazy. I would’ve killed him with my bare hands if I had to for daring to threaten your life.” She took his face between her hands, her eyes flashing with an intense mix of protectiveness and love. “You’re everything to me. Everything.”

Liam opened his mouth to respond but before he could get a single word out she pulled his head down and took his mouth in a ferocious kiss. Her words undid him, but the desperation, the frantic need he tasted on her lips obliterated everything else.

Liam groaned into her mouth and slid one hand into her hair, palming the back of her head as he tangled his tongue with hers, wanting deeper, closer. The kiss turned greedy, wild as she began running her hands all over him, her fingers curling impatiently around the hem of his T-shirt and tugging upward.

He reached one hand back to grab the fabric between his shoulder blades and peeled it over his head. Honor made a low sound and attacked his neck and chest with her mouth, tongue licking at his skin, teeth nipping as though she wanted to eat him alive.

Lust roared through him, amped up by everything that had happened in the past few hours. He wanted to plunge inside her and feel her clench around him, her arms and legs wound around him, holding tight. He wanted his scent all over her skin, wanted her to cry out with the pleasure only he could give her and come inside her.

Liam gripped a handful of her hair and tugged, bringing her lips up to his. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, mimicking what he wanted to do to her body with his cock, trapped hard and aching against his fly. Her hands reached for the waistband of his pants and ripped them open. He peeled off her shirt. A seam ripped and he faltered only a second when he saw the bandage on her upper arm, reminding him that she’d been hurt.

“No, it’s fine, don’t stop. Hurry,” she urged against his lips, her busy hands already shoving down his pants and sliding into the front of his boxers. The second her fingers wrapped around his length he tensed and let out a raw groan.

Fusing his mouth to hers, he picked her up by the hips and started for the stairs, intent on claiming his woman.

****

Honor could barely breathe for the tidal wave of desire crashing over her. Liam’s cock was hard and hot in her hand, her sensitized nipples rubbing against her bra with each step he took. He tasted dark, spicy and desperate. Delicious. She couldn’t get enough, kept gliding her tongue against his as he headed up the stairs to her room.

But she couldn’t wait that long.

Tightening her legs around his waist, she grabbed one of his shoulders and leaned back to slide her fist up and down his hot length. Liam sucked in a breath and shot one hand out to grab the railing, his low groan vibrating straight to the pulsing ache between her thighs. Still palming the back of her head with one hand he kissed her harder, his movements rough and urgent, firing her blood. Need pulsed through her, raw and untamable.

She stroked him again, slower this time, pulling back to see his expression. His eyes were a deep, molten green, smoldering with a need she was dying to see unleashed.

“Now,” she breathed against his lips. “Right now.” Hard and deep and fast.

She ended up with her back against the stairs, one of Liam’s hands between her shoulder blades as he undid the clasp of her bra and tossed it aside. He cupped her breasts in his palms and rubbed the length of his cock against the apex of her thighs, still covered by her pants and underwear. His mouth closed over one nipple, his tongue hot and wet against the rigid peak.

Yessss…

Honor hissed in a breath and twisted, her fingers gripping his hair and her thighs squeezing his hips.

“Get inside me,” she panted, out of her mind with need.

Liam kept tormenting her nipples as he wrenched her pants down and off. With a single, hard jerk, he tore the side of her underwear and tugged them aside to bare her slick folds to him. She grabbed the back of his neck and ground her hips against him, desperate, uncaring that the stair beneath her was digging into her spine.

Without warning he slid his arms around her and turned them in a fluid display of masculine power that pushed her arousal even higher. He settled her on top of him, her knees braced on the stair on either side of his hips, his cock jutting between them, dark and swollen.

Placing her hands on his chest, Honor felt the heat of him sear her palms. He cupped one side of her ass in one big hand and cradled a breast in the other, his eyes smoldering as he gazed up at her. “Ride me.”

The deep command sent a shiver through her. It surprised her that he was allowing her to be on top, but she knew he’d done it out of consideration for her comfort because of the stairs. Though his thoughtfulness touched her, she didn’t want him thinking she was fragile right now. She needed the rough-edged sex he could give her to ease the ache inside and push away the memory of what had happened tonight. This moment with Liam, the powerful intimacy of it, was all that mattered.

Pulling his head toward her, she moaned when he took her nipple into his mouth, and began rubbing her aching sex along his cock. The friction along her clit sent tingles radiating outward, mixing with the tug of his lips, the stroke of his tongue.

Lifting up, she grasped his cock and settled herself over the thick head. With a sharp tug she pulled his head back, stared into his eyes as she lowered her weight and impaled herself on him.

Liam’s hips surged, his lips capturing her fractured moan as he sank deep inside her. The heavy, delicious pressure increased the throb in her clit. Honor feasted on his mouth as she rode him, her entire body trembling with need. Liam groaned and gripped her ass harder, urging her to move harder, faster. He broke the kiss and bent to suck one of her tight nipples into his hot mouth.

Pressure began to coil deep inside her, spreading out from where they were joined. Honor slipped a hand between her legs to stroke her clit. Liam released her nipple and leaned back to watch her tease herself while she rode him, his expression taut with desire.

She pumped her hips faster, took him harder as pleasure sizzled along her nerve endings. A gasp tore free, followed by a soft moan as her orgasm rushed toward her.

“Honor, ahh,” he moaned, head tipping back, eyes closed and an expression of pure ecstasy on his face.

Frantic for release, Honor seized a handful of his hair and dragged his head upward. Liam’s eyes flew open. He slid the hand at her breast to her other hip and held her in place with him buried inside her, his grip forceful enough to leave marks. A dark thrill shot through her at his possessive hold, mixing with the rising pleasure until she was writhing, desperate.