small shake.
“I needed a jacket,” she whispered. It hurt to look him in the eye and lie. But she had to keep his gaze from wandering. “I didn’t want to die of hypothermia before they got here.” Then, with more gusto, she turned the tables. “What are you doing?”
Ryan’s right hand left her arm and reached behind him. He pulled a small square from his ruck then handed it to her. “It’s not much, but it’ll keep the water off of you.”
Her heart squeezed. She accepted the digitally-patterned rubber he shook out into an actual poncho. “What about you? You’re soaked through already.”
“I’ve lived through worse. Put it on and let’s move. And don’t scare me like that again. When I rounded the corner and you weren’t in position I lost a good two years.”
After pulling the poncho over her head and grabbing her AK from Ryan, Piper stepped so he faced the rain and the muddled mountain scenery. She stretched onto tiptoe, melding her lips to his. “I’m sorry,” she said. And she was. Sorry for lying. Sorry for not confiding in him. Sorry for the possibilities that would never be between them.
He walked her to her corner position, then released her hand and moved like a panther across the lawn. Fast. Sleek. Silent. She lost sight of him only a few yards away in the curtain of rain that distorted the light from the house. Sidling close to the structure, she managed to stay mostly dry. She waited several minutes then dug two pairs of handcuffs from the base of a shrub she’d buried them near the day before. The cool metal chilled her skin as she tucked them into the back pocket of her dark jeans.
Not ten minutes after Ryan escaped her sight, his sharp warning whistle split the air. Though muffled in the deluge the tone jolted her heartbeat into overdrive. A cold sweat broke out across her entire body. She longed to run to the front corner of the house and watch them come over the rise, but he’d warned her against it. The house-front’s decorative lighting would give her away with a stray glance.
Piper rested her forehead against the stucco, breathed through her nose then out her mouth. She counted all the while, keeping estimated mental tabs on the caravan’s progress. Vomit reflex under control, she turned toward the garage, detonator in one hand and AK in the other. The garage door rumbled open and everything went quiet. The rain faded into the background. In her ear, the pound of her heartbeat waned.
Nothing mattered in that moment, except the rumble of the engine as the blacked-out Escalade rolled into view. The wiper blades slashed on the windshield in a vicious back and forth, trying and failing to keep the onslaught at bay. Tucked into shadow as Ryan planned, she didn’t worry they’d see her. Especially with the cover of rain. She didn’t even worry about the number of lives she was about to take. She only worried about three. Hers. Ryan’s. And Matthew’s.
16
F ocus , Noble.
Ryan banished his inner turmoil. He knew she’d lied to him, but what the hell could he do about it now? They were about to be in the throws of a firefight. Even though it helped more than it hurt, sometimes it sucked to have eyeballs that doubled as lie detectors.
The adrenaline that rode him hard washed away like a receding tide. Quiet calm took its place. He raised the silencer on the barrel of his rifle and aimed the crosshairs of his scope on the bus driver’s head. Sure, two detonations as loud as a sonic boom would rock the air, but it was still nice when the bad guys didn’t hear which way the bullets were coming from. They’d see the barrel flash. Or at least the last couple would. Not that it would do them any good. He wished he had another silencer for Piper’s gun, but he hoped she didn’t have to use it. Pushing the button that would end a handful of people’s lives was hard enough without staring your target in the eyes and pulling the trigger.
Vehicle one rolled by, headed for
“I needed a jacket,” she whispered. It hurt to look him in the eye and lie. But she had to keep his gaze from wandering. “I didn’t want to die of hypothermia before they got here.” Then, with more gusto, she turned the tables. “What are you doing?”
Ryan’s right hand left her arm and reached behind him. He pulled a small square from his ruck then handed it to her. “It’s not much, but it’ll keep the water off of you.”
Her heart squeezed. She accepted the digitally-patterned rubber he shook out into an actual poncho. “What about you? You’re soaked through already.”
“I’ve lived through worse. Put it on and let’s move. And don’t scare me like that again. When I rounded the corner and you weren’t in position I lost a good two years.”
After pulling the poncho over her head and grabbing her AK from Ryan, Piper stepped so he faced the rain and the muddled mountain scenery. She stretched onto tiptoe, melding her lips to his. “I’m sorry,” she said. And she was. Sorry for lying. Sorry for not confiding in him. Sorry for the possibilities that would never be between them.
He walked her to her corner position, then released her hand and moved like a panther across the lawn. Fast. Sleek. Silent. She lost sight of him only a few yards away in the curtain of rain that distorted the light from the house. Sidling close to the structure, she managed to stay mostly dry. She waited several minutes then dug two pairs of handcuffs from the base of a shrub she’d buried them near the day before. The cool metal chilled her skin as she tucked them into the back pocket of her dark jeans.
Not ten minutes after Ryan escaped her sight, his sharp warning whistle split the air. Though muffled in the deluge the tone jolted her heartbeat into overdrive. A cold sweat broke out across her entire body. She longed to run to the front corner of the house and watch them come over the rise, but he’d warned her against it. The house-front’s decorative lighting would give her away with a stray glance.
Piper rested her forehead against the stucco, breathed through her nose then out her mouth. She counted all the while, keeping estimated mental tabs on the caravan’s progress. Vomit reflex under control, she turned toward the garage, detonator in one hand and AK in the other. The garage door rumbled open and everything went quiet. The rain faded into the background. In her ear, the pound of her heartbeat waned.
Nothing mattered in that moment, except the rumble of the engine as the blacked-out Escalade rolled into view. The wiper blades slashed on the windshield in a vicious back and forth, trying and failing to keep the onslaught at bay. Tucked into shadow as Ryan planned, she didn’t worry they’d see her. Especially with the cover of rain. She didn’t even worry about the number of lives she was about to take. She only worried about three. Hers. Ryan’s. And Matthew’s.
16
F ocus , Noble.
Ryan banished his inner turmoil. He knew she’d lied to him, but what the hell could he do about it now? They were about to be in the throws of a firefight. Even though it helped more than it hurt, sometimes it sucked to have eyeballs that doubled as lie detectors.
The adrenaline that rode him hard washed away like a receding tide. Quiet calm took its place. He raised the silencer on the barrel of his rifle and aimed the crosshairs of his scope on the bus driver’s head. Sure, two detonations as loud as a sonic boom would rock the air, but it was still nice when the bad guys didn’t hear which way the bullets were coming from. They’d see the barrel flash. Or at least the last couple would. Not that it would do them any good. He wished he had another silencer for Piper’s gun, but he hoped she didn’t have to use it. Pushing the button that would end a handful of people’s lives was hard enough without staring your target in the eyes and pulling the trigger.
Vehicle one rolled by, headed for
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