Bone Deep (25 page)

He did as she demanded. “Now you,” she ordered.

Again, he did as she demanded. She met Bullet’s gaze and nodded. Her sister turned to leave, took two steps and turned back, firing a single shot and dropping one of the soldier to the ground, a smoking hole dead center of his forehead.

She pulled the leader’s hands up so far behind his back his shoulders popped. He screamed at the pressure she was putting on the joints, begging her to stop. “That’s what will happen every time you try something,” Bone called out. To the man at her feet she said softly, “So if you like your shoulders attached and your men’s brains inside their heads, don’t move.”

Bullet left then and it was just Bone. She had gone over every escape avenue available with her sisters the last two days. She’d known what Dmitry refused to acknowledge—Joseph was worried and worried men pulled out all the stops in times of need.

“I know who sent you,” she told the leader.

He didn’t say a word.

“I’m going to send you back to him with a message,” she said prolonging the conversation as long as she needed to allow the babies and her sisters to escape.

She stood behind the man and pulled out her knife again. The sound of the metal Blade had honed for her sliding over the leather of its scabbard was quite lovely against the backdrop of silence.

“I know this will piss you off, but I’ve held you here, at my mercy, with nothing more than my hands. It is ironic to me that your guns and knives could not do what my bare hands have managed to accomplish.”

He didn’t speak but anger and frustration rode the lines of his body. American men hated being at the mercy of women. Bone enjoyed exploiting it. The simple anger bleeding off the Spec Ops solider in her grasp was an end-run emotion. Rage though—rage could be channeled making everything sharper, more distinct, defining that line between life and death. This man had no idea how much of a tightrope she was walking at present.

“Face down boys, hands and legs spread wide,” she yelled at his men.

They did without hesitation.

She put her hands on the leader’s shoulders and said, “Your turn.”

He did and when he was face down she cut his flak jacket and then cut open his shirt. Bone was quick about her work but she wanted Joseph and the last remaining name on her list to know Blade was coming.

The man screamed and cried but he didn’t lift up. His fear smelled delightful. The stylized C crossed with an X she carved into his back really was lovely.

“Tell him we aren’t finished and that it will be painful,” Bone whispered.

Then she took off, running like the wind to the panic room where she punched the buttons and entered, closed the door back and locked it. She had a moment’s pause. Her bag was upstairs…she needed that bag. Yes, the things inside it were from her past but they were hers. She would grieve their loss but realized she could not go back for it.

So she set the trip switches on the system that would blow this entire house sky high and she unlocked the door before she took off down the tunnel that led to the beach.

It didn’t take them long to trip the switch and the concussion from the blast knocked her off her feet. Debris and dirt rained down on her but she picked herself up and ran. She ran until she came to the door that brought her to the sand and when she opened it, she saw the babies, her sisters, Juana, Carmelita, and Raines.

She fell to her knees, eyes dry but tears streaking down the windows of her soul. Blood leaked from her body, dotting the sand around her—reminding her of another time the sand had been thirsty.

The tears she refused to cry were not tears of pain. They were tears of acute joy and still she could not give them life.

Tears were for death. Her people were alive. And in the end that was all that mattered.

Rand watched Gretchen sleep, but could not keep his hands off her. He stroked her skin, careful of her bandages and careful not to wake her. She had taken three bullets. Two in the back and one in the thigh.

He would never be able to thank Bone. There were no words for what she’d done for him earlier today. None.

“I’m alive,” his woman whispered from the small bed.

“And because you are, I am as well,” Rand murmured, kissing her lips and skimming down to her collarbone.

“Sleep, Mr. Beckett. I will heal and this will all be a dream,” she said softly, her tone faraway.

“I know, baby. I know you’ll heal,” he said, kissing the skin over her heart.

She was asleep moments later.

He had their names with a simple hack of the DOD’s database. He knew where they lived, what they’d eaten last week and where the ones who’d survived would be next. His hands clenched and so did the heart in his chest. His killer knew more pain.

“You will heal and I will kill them,” he promised. “I’ll kill them all.”

Adam could not breathe. Saya still had not woken, had not even acknowledged he was there with her. She had a nasty bump on her head though Dmitry said her vitals were fine. She more-than-likely suffered a concussion. Her pupils were reacting fine and she responded to stimuli, but she would not wake.

He would never be able to thank Bone. Not for what she’d done for them all today. She’d gotten his woman out of harm’s way and for that he’d lay down his own life for her.

He watched Saya breathe and feared she was locked in the darkness. He could not leave her there alone. Adam climbed into bed with her and just like that, with his heat against her, she turned into him, eyes slitting open, mouth curving just enough to let him know she knew he was there.

“I will be fine, Adam,” she murmured.

Her husky voice reached into his chest and squeezed his heart.

“You will,” he commanded.

She was back asleep just that fast but at least he knew it was sleep and not something more. His woman had walked darkness without him. It wouldn’t happen again.

He pulled her deeper into his embrace, twining their legs so their bodies aligned and their hearts were together. He kissed her brow, stroked his fingers through her hair and he made a promise in his heart before he gave that promise life with his words.

“I will kill them, Saya. I will kill them all.”

Dmitry had watched the tapes of what had gone down in Virginia but never could he have imagined the violence with which Bone could operate. Rand had long ago set up remote feeds in the event something like this ever happened. But Trident had made a grave error in judgment. Not anticipating the strength of Joseph’s hold within their own government, they had left a handful of men and Raines to watch over the property.

Unfortunately, Raines had lost several of his mercenaries. Thank God the women of First Team were who they were. The house was destroyed but the people within its walls had survived.

Watching Bone kill was one thing. Watching her defend was something else entirely. She moved without caution or thought of her own safety—she’d been a machine.

And now she lay in this bed, more gunshots, this time a very nasty one to the side, and she was broken once again. He’d been unable to stop the flow of blood, only staunch it. The bullet remained in her side though it had clearly taken a chunk out of her.

“The look on your face tells me I will die,” she stated in a low voice.

His gaze rose to meet hers and she hissed in a breath, reaching for him.

“I am too mean to die, Asinimov. But I would be grateful if you could get this lead out of my side,” she whispered.

Her pain sank inside Dmitry, twisting his mind until he wondered if he would go insane with the need to kill for her.

“We will be somewhere safe soon and then we will get you fixed up,” he assured her.

Dmitry could hear the worry in his voice. Her capacity to endure pain was remarkable. But she had lost too much blood, even now her pressure was dropping dangerously low. He didn’t have the equipment to help her and his inability relegated him to prayer.

“You were praying,” she said, wonder filling her voice.

He nodded. “For you. I was praying for you.”

She swallowed and coughed, blood dotting her lips. “Maybe He will listen to you. He abandoned me long ago.”

She closed her eyes and his torture began anew. They had at least another hour before they landed in London. Nowhere was safe anymore. Trident was compromised so they’d been forced to flee. Their assets were varied so their finances would remain in order but they were scrambling to find safe harbor.

Dmitry had contacts in London so he’d suggested utilizing them. Rand and Adam were working on what came after. Dmitry’s prime resource in London was an old doctor who had saved Dmitry’s life more times than he cared to admit. Gunshots, knife wounds, even an attack by a hook-wielding terrorist who had almost finished him off for good.

He knew the old man would do his best to save her. If he could not, Dmitry would brave a hospital setting for her, though the gunshots would be reported. Trident wanted no trails but for Bone he would brave whatever government he had to.

”The babies are safe?” she asked.

“Do not talk. Save your energy,” he admonished. “Yes, they are safe. Your sisters are safe and so is Raines. You saved them all, Bone Breaker.”

“We must warn Blade,” she said before she passed out again.

Dmitry could do nothing but watch her struggle to breathe. Her life’s blood soaked the sheets beneath her. He counted the seconds and minutes until they landed and did his best to will her to survive.

Somehow she managed and when they arrived at the Dr. Moshe Vernon’s home, he put her under, operating with an efficiency Dmitry hadn’t realized such an old man capable of. She was transfused with more blood, the bullet was removed, the bleeding stopped and then she was resting.

“Can we transport her?” Dmitry asked.

“Not yet,” Moshe said. “It wasn’t bad with the exception of the blood loss. Her scar will not match yours, I dare say, but I would prefer you stay here so I can make sure infection does not root. I will do my best to get her well soon.”

“You are still safe?” Dmitry asked in a hard voice.

The old man glanced at him over the edge of his glasses, his look saying it all. Dmitry had saved his daughter ten years ago from a life as a sex slave within the
Bratva
. The good doctor would do whatever Dmitry asked him and not expose him to any threat.

So many Dmitry had saved because he’d not been able to save his own sisters.

“She is from my homeland?” Moshe asked.

Dmitry glanced at him, gaze narrowing. “She was born there.”

Moshe hummed and the sound was curious. “She has the look of my people but the shadows following her seem to be from a hell I cannot comprehend.”

“Do shadows not follow us all?” Dmitry asked.

Moshe nodded, a frown on his face as he walked once more to stand beside Bone.

Dmitry went to find the others. Moshe had checked Saya and Gretchen, declaring Dmitry a wonderful apprentice though his hands were too big for delicate work.

“It will be another few days before I can move her. Go ahead to Sydney. I will be behind you,” he said to Rand as he walked into Moshe’s small living room.

“I don’t like leaving you alone,” Rand admitted.

Rand and Adam had found a place in Australia. A resort built on an abandoned silver mine property in the Blue Mountains about fifty miles outside of Sydney had gone bankrupt three years ago. Trident had made the purchase of a main house and the corresponding eleven hundred plus acres within the last few hours, spending an exorbitant amount but fully willing to do so for the safety the terrain provided. Raines had gone ahead, scouting and getting the essentials in place. It was fully furnished according to Rand but the place needed safety upgrades that would take longer. Raines would also begin that process.

Dmitry had never been to the Blue Mountains of New South Wales but had heard of their beauty and remoteness. This property served three purposes—protection, distance from the U.S. and proximity to where they believed Ken was hiding.

“We will be fine. Take your women and the children and get them to safety,” Dmitry told him. “Did you speak with your contact in the Australian government?”

Rand nodded. “He will keep the purchase silent. We bought it under a shell corporation so the trail is much harder to follow. There is no way to ensure complete safety but we have time to plan how we’ll respond to President Locke as we give our women time to heal.”

“He has to be Joseph’s,” Dmitry mused. The Collective’s reach knew no bounds. It was truly a one world order type of entity.

“Then he will die,” Adam said in a voice that carried vengeance.

Within hours, the others were on their way to the compound in Sydney and Dmitry was left with Bone and an old, crotchety physician who enjoyed reading poetry aloud to his patients. Dmitry hated poetry.

He watched over Bone for the next four days, bathing her through her fevers and changing her IVs and bedclothes.

He prayed. He cursed. He prayed some more.

And on the third day, Bone woke.

The brittle sounds of an old man’s voice sifted through her mind, his words grabbing her attention and not letting go.

It was an Emily Dickinson poem.
I Cried at Pity
. Bone enjoyed poetry and Dickinson’s works, more than any others, had always spoken to her. So she listened to an old man she did not know, speak words that told the story of her life and as the darkness began to part, ushering her up through layers of pain, she sighed and tried to find her way.

Bone squinted against the low light, breathing silently lest the ropes tethering her to reality snap. She opened herself up to the pain instead of fighting it, though she was pretty fucking sick and tired of waking up in pain. It seemed it was all she ever woke to since she’d met Asinimov.

His head rested beside her on the bed. Soft snores fell from his lips and she smiled.

He wouldn’t like her pointing that out she was sure so she’d have to make sure and do that very thing once he awoke. Bone was unable to resist the draw of his hair and so she slid her fingers into it remembering how it had been to hold him to her in the heat of passion.