Forged in Ash (19 page)

Assuming they saw another deployment.

Rawls must have been thinking the same thing. A shadow crossed his face and he shook his head. “Let’s get you on the ground, so I can take a look at your leg.”

Cosky had pushed away from the truck, balancing on his good leg, when he caught a flash of blond hair on his right. Rawls, who was blond, was to his left.

Instinctively, he tensed, twisted to look, and sent up a silent, urgent prayer that their visitor was a blond cop…or a blond curiosity seeker…or any blond other than…

Kait.

Son of a bitch.

Cosky watched her come closer with a scowl, hoping she’d get the message and vamoose. No question she picked up on his silent discouragement. Irritation swept across her heart-shaped face. She tucked a swath of damp hair that had worked loose from the braid dangling over her shoulder behind her ear, lifted her chin, and stared back, a sudden tight kick to her stride.

Just perfect.

“Kaity,” Rawls said, “it’s been what? Four years?”

Kaity?
Cosky turned his glare on Rawls, acid suddenly churning in his belly.

“More like five,” Kait greeted Rawls with a smile.

“Makes my day.” Rawls flashed her a blinding smile. “Tell me we’re going to see more of you now that Aiden’s taken the spare bedroom.”

The acid grew claws and climbed Cosky’s throat.

She laughed. “Still the charmer, I see.”

“Apparently not much of one. I never did convince you to paint the town with me,” Rawls said in a teasing, rolling drawl.

Cosky’s hands fisted.

Rawls glanced down at the movement and did a double take. His gaze raced up to Cosky’s face, and pure devilment danced in his eyes. He turned his attention back to Kait.

“We’re ’bout due for a second assault, don’tcha think? And I won’t be whisked away before you say yes, this time.”

With another laugh, Kait stopped in front of the truck. “Who knows, I may even say yes this time. I could use a night of dancing.”

Separated from Cosky by more than the width of his truck, she scanned his body, her gaze lingering on his leg. The teasing flirt disappeared.

“You’re obviously hurt.” She cocked her head, watching him steadily, her message and offer clear. “Maybe I can help.”

Her words caught Cosky off guard, and something inside his chest softened. Considering the rift he’d carved between them, her offer was incredibly generous. And unexpected. And untimely. She’d wanted her gift to remain private, which wouldn’t happen if she worked on his leg in public. He swore beneath his breath, glanced at Rawls, and found his buddy glancing back and forth between him and Kait, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Later,” Cosky said gruffly.

When they didn’t have an audience.

Although…hell, maybe an audience was exactly what they needed. At least he wouldn’t end up on top and inside of her.

A frown crinkled her forehead. “The sooner the better, before the injury has a chance to set.”

“What, exactly, can you do under the circumstances?” Rawls asked slowly. He turned to Cosky, his face determined. “Obviously you were here to visit Kait. Why?”

Cosky gritted his teeth and glared back. “Not your business.”

“He came for a massage,” Kait said. She shot Cosky a dry look at his growl. “Zane and Mac know, they’ll tell him soon enough.”

True enough, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to break a few of Rawls’s teeth. Maybe that would stop his mouth from moving.

“A massage,” Rawls repeated, a distant look on his face.

With a cocked fist and faltering control, Cosky awaited his buddy’s response.
One flirty comment, or sexual reference…

“The kind of massage you were giving your brother every time I visited him in the hospital?” Rawls asked, no hint of teasing in his voice. Hell, he’d even lost his Southern drawl.

Surprised, Cosky released his fist.

“Pretty much,” Kait said, pulling back, wariness in her eyes.

Apparently coming to some silent decision, Rawls turned to Cosky and took hold of his arm. “Let’s get you on the ground, so I can check that leg out.”

Cosky tensed. With Kait watching. Like hell. “Just get me to the ER.”

Admittedly, his reluctance to bare his leg in front of Kait didn’t make much sense. She’d worked on the damn thing maybe an hour earlier. Hell, she’d seen a lot more of him than his bare leg…but
there was something too pathetic about lying on the ground at their feet, with everyone towering over him.

“Lie down.” Rawls’s tone flattened.

With a slight hop of his good leg and a twist of his torso, Cosky faced him down. “Just get me to the ambulance. It’s fine.”

Which was an asinine thing to say. Everyone could see it wasn’t fine.

“I’ve got eyes,” Rawls snapped, his voice turning hard. “Sit. Down.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” Kait blew out an exasperated breath. “Is he always this stubborn?”

“No—” Before Rawls had a chance to continue, Mac’s gritty voice broke in from behind them.

“What the fuck’s he doing on his feet? Sit down.”

Hell.

If he kept stonewalling, everyone was going to question why. Frustration a hot, pulsing knot in his chest, he eased himself down to the ground.

Mac stepped around him and stalked up to the hood, his cold gaze locked on Kait’s face. “Go back to the lobby.”

For one sweet moment Cosky hoped…until Kait ignored Mac, and leaned forward, watching Rawls open his medical kit.

Swearing, Cosky lowered his shoulders and head to the pavement and closed his eyes. From the determination on her face, and the stubborn tilt to her chin, it would take a nuclear explosion to budge Kait from her position.

“Sorry, buddy,” Rawls said, as a ripping sound reached Cosky’s ears. “Your sweats are toast anyway.”

“How’s he doing?” Zane asked from above him.

“We’re about to find out,” Rawls said. The sound of more cloth ripping filled the air.

“Goddamn it, Ms. Winchester,” Mac rumbled. “You aren’t—” His voice simply died.

Silence fell.

Dead. Pulsing. Helpless silence.

The teams had a name for this silence. The death watch. It was the silence of watching helplessly, while your teammate bled out in your arms.

He grimaced. His buddies had obviously just discovered what he’d instinctively known the moment he’d tried to climb to his feet and found a numb, useless husk of flesh where his right leg used to be.

He wasn’t going to bounce back from this injury. Not enough to rejoin ST7. Hell, he’d be lucky to walk without crutches.

Barring a major miracle, his career was officially over.

Chapter Nine

R
OBERT WATCHED
J
ILLIAN
speed off in the van, with his mouth hanging open.

Holy hell, he could not believe,
could not believe,
that little milquetoast had just attacked all four SEALs.
All four
. At once. In front of their fucking watchers.

It had been bad enough watching her go after Simcosky earlier, without being able to do a damn thing about it. He sure as hell couldn’t intervene back then, not with Simcosky’s eyes and ears engaged, or with so many witnesses around, which nixed any possibility of taking out both his targets at once.

So he’d watched from behind her car, fuming, as the stupid bitch ruined
everything
.

It would be one thing if she’d actually managed to take Simcosky out. At least one of his headaches would be removed. It wouldn’t matter what she’d told the asshole, if the bastard was dead.

Except she’d fucking missed.

And her attack had caught the SEALs’ attention.

She must have told Simcosky something, because when Robert had returned from his fruitless search for her, Rawlings had been inside her ragtag car.

He took a shallow breath as a cop car went screaming past him, in obvious pursuit of the woman who’d turned his life into a living hell. He should have just bit the bullet and taken off after her following her original attack on Simcosky. Hell, if he’d been thinking, he could have staged the pursuit, remained behind her until they were out of sight. Once the witnesses were behind them he could have eliminated her without anyone being the wiser.

But instead of a foot pursuit, he retreated to his car and followed the direction she’d taken. Which had proved pointless. There’d been no sign of her. But then she’d probably already stolen the van and returned for a second shot at the poor bastard. Only this time all four of the SEALs had been there.

Along with several of their watchers.

He swore sickly beneath his breath and ran an unsteady hand down his face. Well the cat was out of the bag now. From where he sat parked, he could see both Mackenzie’s and Rawlings’s tails. They’d witnessed the whole damn thing. He’d best own up and hope like hell the bosses were in a charitable mood. It wasn’t like he could go to ground and avoid the issue.

They’d controlled Russ when he’d tried to abandon the Sea-Tac operation by kidnapping Russ’s sister and her brats. But the poor bastard’s attempted desertion had bit everyone else on the ass too.

Following that fiasco, the bosses had made sure no one could ever escape them again. He shuddered as he thought of the toxic shit they’d pumped through his veins, which would track him no matter where he went, or how hard he tried to hide. As he stared down at his tanned forearm, he almost expected to see it glow.

When his cell phone rang, he jolted and just looked at it a moment.

Had they already heard?

Slowly, he picked it up and checked the caller ID, relaxing to find Jonese’s number flashing across the screen, rather than headquarters’. Maybe he could talk Jonese and Reeves into giving him a few hours to lock down the situation. Although it was doubtful. His ass wasn’t the only one headquarters had in a sling.

“Did you fucking see that?” Jonese’s excited voice huffed down the line.

“Yeah, it was hard to miss,” Robert said tightly.

“Man, wouldn’t it have been sweet if he’d taken the four of them out.
Boom
, and our job here’s done. And without us lifting a finger.” His voice turned wistful. “Too bad he missed them.”

Robert froze.
He.

Slowly, he turned his head to study his teammates’ vehicles. Jonese had parked way down the street, behind a line of cars, which was standard procedure to avoid detection. However, as luck would have it, the van had headed in the opposite direction. Jonese wouldn’t have had a clear view of the action…or the driver.

Twisting in his seat, he glanced toward the back of the parking lot. Reeves’s position was closer, but still too far away to see into the van. In all likelihood, he hadn’t seen the driver either.

Was it possible neither of them had recognized Jillian?

He coughed the nerves from his voice. “You didn’t see him?”

“Who?”

“The driver?” Robert took a shallow breath and tried for a casual tone. “Ya have to wonder who the hell’s targeting them, well—besides us.”

“Considering they’ve pissed off most of the terrorists in the world, it could be anyone. It was bound to happen sooner or later, what with the way the media’s been plastering their names and faces over the news,” Jonese said, a shrug in his voice. “This is probably
what headquarters had in mind all along. Feed their faces and names to the sharks and let the sharks take care of them.”

“True,” Robert said. After a few casual exchanges, he hung up.

He wouldn’t have called Jillian a shark. More like a guppy. Harmless. Ineffectual. Prey rather than predator.

His frown turned into a grimace. Well at least until today. She’d been one unwelcome surprise after another today. A guppy didn’t walk up to someone twice their size, with a thousand times their experience, and start shooting. They sure as hell didn’t escape unscathed and return in a stolen van to take on the whole fucking team at once.

The terrified and frozen Jillian Michaels of four months ago bore little resemble to the woman who just tried to run down four highly trained SEALs.

Too bad the new Jillian hadn’t done a better of job of targeting her quarry and taken out at least a couple of them. Hell, all four of them would have been nice. Because now he was left with the unpleasant headache of finding out what she’d told them, and without his team being any the wiser.

He needed to interrogate them. He glanced toward the glove box. That detective’s badge he’d stashed in there would come in handy. The police would open an investigation. One more cop asking questions wouldn’t raise suspicions. But he couldn’t do much now with half his team still hanging around, and more and more cops arriving by the moment.

He’d have to hunt them down later and swing by for a visit.

With a quick glance in his rearview mirror he pulled onto the street, heading in the direction Jillian had taken. In the meantime, he needed to find the damn woman and put an end to her interference.

Before the cops found her.

Before Mackenzie and his crew found her.

Hell, maybe he should just take care of the SEALs now too. Why bother waiting to find out what they knew? The timing would be perfect. If he could get to Jillian before the cops, and she disappeared, nobody would know she wasn’t behind Mackenzie’s and his men’s deaths. The murders would almost certainly be attributed to her—third time’s a charm and all that.

He wouldn’t have to worry about any of this shit leaking back to the bosses.

Another squad car roared around him, and Robert’s heart jumped into overdrive. Everything hinged on getting to the damn woman before the cops found her. Or at least before so many cops surrounded her he couldn’t handle the officers himself.

What was another murder or two pinned on the woman?

She wouldn’t be around to insist on her innocence.