Falcon Falls Security Boxed Set: Books 1-3, page 68
Jesse looked away from him and took inventory of the room while Zoey distracted him as planned.
Five guards. But who’d they fear more? Jesse and his teammates? Or their boss?
Jesse calculated his next steps, playing them out in his head. The guard off to his left would be the first to go. Use him as a shield when the other guard would go for a sidearm on instinct.
“I’m not a liar. You know that. You’ve been researching me, right?” Yuri pushed the heel of his hand beneath his chin and cracked his neck, looking more and more like a psychopath, then stalked two steps closer, eating up the space between himself and where Carter held on to Zoey.
They were too close to each other for Jack to get a clean shot.
Yuri looked toward the window, which lacked blinds and drapes, and he backed up one step as if realizing he’d be in a sniper’s line of sight.
So, you have some sense left in you. They needed to knock the rest out and soon.
“Preston was your target,” Zoey said, her tone less steady this time. “You never fail, right?”
“He was my mark, but he got away from me that day. Better fighter than I’d anticipated.” He smiled. “By the time I caught up with him on the street, he was already dead. Someone else killed him. Bullet to the head. But a dead mark is still a dead mark.”
“You’re lying,” she said again, and Yuri snarled.
Being compared to a Russian. Called a liar. His trigger points.
Zoey started to go for him again, and Carter worked hard to pull her back. Jesse was pretty sure Yuri had also hit her trigger point. Preston.
Jesse stole a quick look at Thatcher, and he nodded, confirming he’d still be able to fight. But he’d wait for Carter to make the first move.
Seconds later, Jesse spotted Carter in his peripheral view shove Zoey toward Jesse as though pushing her to safety before he went for Yuri.
“Don’t kill them,” Yuri growled out to his men in warning. “I’ll deal with them after I kill Carter. I made a promise to do it personally, and fuck if . . .” He lost his words when he dodged a swing from Carter. “Just keep them occupied,” he hissed while striking Carter in the side a second later.
Jesse swiftly focused back on the guards, who appeared confused yet again by their boss’s order. They had to know they’d die if they didn’t kill Jesse or Zoey first, but they appeared to still be contemplating which fate would be worse. Try their hand at fighting Jesse and Zoey? Or defy orders?
We’re about to find out. Jesse lunged toward the guard at his nine o’clock.
Grabbing hold of the guard’s legs, he pulled the man to the floor and into a chokehold, then snagged the gun holstered at his back just in time to use him as a shield when another guard fired his sidearm, deciding to disobey Yuri’s directive.
The bullet pegged the guard in Jesse’s grasp at the same time he shot the other man, nailing him in the head.
“Jesse,” Thatcher roared, suddenly throwing himself in front of him before Jesse realized what was happening and . . .
Zoey popped off a shot at the guard that’d just fired, catching Jesse by surprise, but it was too late for Thatcher. He’d taken one in the chest.
“What the hell,” Jesse hissed, angry at his old boss for sacrificing himself. He didn’t have time to check if he was alive or yell at him for what he’d done because he and Zoey had two more guards to deal with while Yuri and Carter fought alongside one of the walls.
The two remaining guards were smarter than the others, maintaining their positions by the hostages, weapons trained on their heads.
But if Jesse and Zoey lowered their guns, would these guards shoot to kill, also ignoring Yuri’s command? He couldn’t take any chances, so he ran through the possible outcomes in his head as he glanced at Thatcher on the floor. Slight movement from his legs. Still alive?
“We both put our guns down at the same time,” Jesse offered. “Your boss doesn’t want you killing us. And you know if you shoot a hostage, the second you pull the trigger, you’re dead.”
“And what do you suggest? We fight too?” one of the guards sputtered.
Jesse stole a look at Carter and Yuri as they continued fighting. “You have a better idea? Because I’m not getting rid of my gun if you’re still holding one. We just shoot each other, then?” He kept his voice as steady as possible.
“Fine,” one of the guards spoke up. “Same time, we all lower our guns, and we go at this like them.”
Jesse nodded and took a knee, waiting for the moment to go for the knife he’d carefully snatched from one of the dead guards by his feet, the one who’d been a human shield.
The second the two men started to move their guns away from the hostages, Jesse released his sidearm as well, and he remained kneeling, waiting for their next moves.
“You got this?” he whispered to Zoey, who was still off to his side.
“Of course,” she answered as the two guards maneuvered around the hostages, suddenly rushing them with new weapons. Knives.
“I can’t kill you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make you suffer,” one guard said as Jesse dodged the first wild swing of the blade. The guy was as big as Yuri, but Jesse had gone up against his type in the past.
And Thatcher had been right about one thing.
Ella needed to serve as his motivation, not as a distraction.
Jesse struck the beast of a man with his elbows and then leg kicks before dropping to his knees and stabbing the man in the side in the process.
A groan from Zoey momentarily stole his focus, and he realized she was pinned down beneath a guard, grappling to stop the knife he had aimed at her throat.
Jesse sprang to his feet, ignoring the guard he’d been fighting to save Zoey. He pulled the man off her, and in one fast movement, sent a side kick to his abdomen, kicking him into view of the window, and Jack nailed the fucker. Thank God.
Jesse spun around to find the guard he’d stabbed coming at him with a knife, and their bodies collided within a second. From over the guy’s shoulder, he spied Zoey on her back, aiming a gun their way. Jesse quickly shifted to the side, allowing her to take the bastard down with a headshot. The man crumpled to the ground, knees first before falling backward instead of forward like in the movies.
But shit, something wasn’t right.
Jesse set a hand to his side, then to his abdomen in search of what felt like . . . a knife. He bit down on his back teeth as he held the handle of the blade, not sure if he should keep the thing in there for now.
“Leave it,” Zoey hissed as she stood, then turned her attention to their HVT and Carter still battling damn near Mortal Kombat–style.
“Back away from him. Now,” Zoey yelled out, her gun aimed at Yuri as Carter and the man continued to go blow for blow. Bloody and beaten up, the both of them.
Jesse looked around the room, grateful the hostages and the boy were still unharmed, but the poor kid was rocking and clutching his legs, clearly terrified.
“Zoey,” Carter called out, breathing hard. “Don’t.”
Now that Yuri’s men were no longer a threat, Jesse’s awareness zeroed in on the pain in his side, but he ignored it as he tried to decide what in the hell to do next.
“The CIA wants him alive.” Was Carter serious?
Yuri backed away from Carter and focused on Zoey, panting. “You either kill me, or I kill you,” he rasped around a cough, blood spurting from his mouth. One eye swollen shut. “Your choice.”
“Tell me the truth.” Zoey started for Yuri, and Jesse remained locked in place. Save the hitman? Or help her kill him? “You murdered Preston.”
Yuri wiped his lip with the back of his hand and shot her a bloody, psychotic grin. “As I said, someone else beat me to it. I don’t lie.”
“Who?” she asked, her tone trembling and her arms beginning to shake. She was getting too close to the man, and Jesse knew she was seconds away from being overwhelmed by Yuri, but before Jesse could react, Yuri flung himself her way, prompting Zoey to pop off a shot.
The bullet struck him in the gut, but he kept moving, kept going after her.
“We have to,” Jesse hollered to Carter, letting him know the man needed to die. Screw the Agency.
Carter nodded, and in one fast movement, they both went for him, grabbing hold of his arms and flinging him in front of the window where Jack sent the shot, not missing a beat.
Jesse released his hold of the man’s arm, and Carter did the same, allowing the hitman to fall to the ground.
On his back, Yuri rolled his head to the side, coughing up blood as he focused on Carter. “I guess the . . . better man . . . won. But I was getting . . . bored any . . .”
“Crazy fucker,” Carter said after Yuri’s eyes closed, and then Carter knelt to check for a pulse.
“Ella,” Jesse said, breathing hard at the realization they still had the issue of the bomb to deal with. “Sydney. We need to get them on the line.”
There’d been no explosion, which they would have heard by now from across the lake. But when Jesse checked his watch, there was still one minute left before the deadline.
“Everything is okay now,” Jesse called out to the hostages, then looked over at the boy who still clung to his knees.
“I’ve got Sydney on the line,” Carter rushed out a moment later, clutching his side as if his ribs were broken. “They’re okay. The bomb has been defused.”
And it was only then that Jesse collapsed to his knees, allowing the pain from the knife to overwhelm him. “They’re okay,” he whispered as his lids became heavy. “They’re okay.”
“Shit,” he overheard Zoey as his eyes shut. “I think Thatcher’s dead.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Helo blades. Shit. “You had air support all this time, and you held out on us?” Jesse turned his head from where he lay and watched Oliver deal with Thatcher’s chest and shoulder wounds. “And you, old man, you’re too stubborn to die, I see. Should’ve known.”
Thatcher groaned and rolled his head to the side to face Jesse. They were both on the snowy ground outside the castle, flat on their backs.
Oliver had also been a medic, so he’d successfully removed the knife from Jesse’s abdomen and was currently keeping Thatcher from bleeding out.
“I’m for damn sure not gonna let some assassin’s lapdog finish me. Not going out that way,” Thatcher said around a cough, then looked in the direction of the helicopter flying their way. “No thanks for taking a bullet for you, huh?”
Jesse would’ve laughed, but he knew that’d hurt too much. “Yeah, yeah. You caused this disaster, but you taking a bullet for me should absolve you of your sins, huh?”
“A guy can try, right?” Thatcher’s index finger danced in the air, obviously loopy from the shot of morphine Oliver had given him. “And no, the bird isn’t with me.”
Jesse was a little woozy from the stab wound and morphine as well, so maybe he wasn’t actually hearing chopper blades right now?
“I made a call to an Agency guy I still trust who’s stationed in Austria before we infiltrated the castle earlier. He couldn’t get himself involved with the op, but he offered to arrange a medevac if needed.” Carter crouched next to Jesse and looked over at Thatcher. Carter was pretty banged up, but he was tough and clearly doing his best to act unfazed by the damage to his body. “Need to airlift him from here so he doesn’t croak, I suppose.”
“How considerate of you, Dominick. You sure you don’t want me to die?” Thatcher asked, turning his attention to Carter.
“As nice of an idea as that is, I’d say no one on our team dying tonight is a win.” Carter tipped his chin in the direction of the chopper hovering in search of a landing spot, confirming Jesse wasn’t hallucinating. “Sydney and Ella are en route. They’ll be here soon.”
Jesse tried to sit at the news, but Carter palmed his chest, guiding him back down to remain flat. “How about staying still for now? We don’t know if that knife hit anything important.”
“Right,” Jesse grumbled. “Fine.” He let go of a breath, which . . . hurt. The morphine in him wasn’t quite enough to completely eradicate the pain, but as long as Ella was okay, and as Carter had said, no one on their team had died, he could deal with a knife wound. “What do we know so far? You know, about everything.” Am I making sense? Jesse looked to his right to see another needle in his arm. “Did you just jab me with more morphine?” he asked Oliver.
“Got a problem with that?” Oliver lightly laughed before pulling the needle free of his arm and redirecting his attention to his main patient, Thatcher.
“Fine, fine.” Jesse waited for his vision to be a little less blurry as the drugs moved through his system. “So?” he prompted, waiting for Carter. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been passed out before the guys had dragged him from the castle and to the ground outside.
“Sydney handled the bomb, which you already know. And my guys dealt with the men on the mountainside and took care of the C4 in the mine. So, there was no damage to the historical site. We also confirmed Dragan’s dead. There was an underground tunnel that Zoran used to get in and out of his brother’s home without notice,” Carter explained, rising to his full height, and then he made a come-hither motion, and Gray appeared a moment later.
“I’ll have the Agency handle Zoran’s right-hand man, Aleksa, in Albania. Then all loose ends will be tied,” Thatcher spoke up, and Jesse had nearly forgotten about Aleksa. “Hostages okay? The boy?”
Jesse looked at Zoran’s son, Nikola, now standing alongside Gray. He’d had to witness all that violence. He hadn’t even tried to flee the room during the shooting and fighting either. And that reminded him of McKenna and the hell she’d endured back in Bama. The morphine couldn’t erase the pain from guilt, that was for sure.
“I’m okay,” Nikola spoke up in English. “Better now that I’m . . . away from them all.”
Damn. Okay. Well, that was . . . something. Tough kid.
“Hostages are fine. Bravo Team is handling them. We need to exfil before they call the police,” Carter remarked as the helo finally landed in the distance. “Shit. Hold on.”
Jesse forced himself to sit this time to see what had Carter’s attention. He clutched his abdomen, which was bandaged, and ignored Oliver’s scowl at his movement, which he could only make out in the dark because of the flashlights Oliver had positioned on him and Thatcher so he could see his “patients.”
“I know what you’re going to do, and I’m begging you not to.” Carter held on to Zoey’s wrist, but she attempted to pull free. “He lied. Yuri killed Preston. Don’t go chasing ghosts.”
“I have to know for sure,” she shot back. “If someone else killed Preston that day, I need to know.”
“He was trying to throw you off. It was a mind game,” Carter hissed. “Don’t let this fucker win. Don’t throw away your life for revenge. You have it now.” He tossed his free hand toward the castle. “He’s dead. You have your retribution. Let it go.”
Zoey shook her head as two men from the helicopter hustled Jesse’s way with a stretcher for Thatcher. “I have to be sure,” she reiterated.
“No.” Carter let go of her and surrendered his palms between them. “Please. Don’t do this. Go back to London. Patch things up with MI6. Stop this insanity of—”
“You’re telling me that if you found out someone else murdered your wife, and they were still out there, you wouldn’t do the same?” she challenged, and Carter’s shoulders fell. “I have to know if Yuri was telling the truth. I have to get to the bottom of what really happened the day Preston died.”
“Zoey.” Carter’s voice faltered this time, and he knew there was no point in fighting her. He tore his hands through his hair. “You’re going rogue, aren’t you?”
“I have no choice. And also, you look like shit. See a medic yourself.” And with that, she took off in the direction of the woods, a fearless woman on her hell-bent mission of revenge.
“Fuck,” Carter cursed under his breath before turning back toward everyone who had been watching the scene unfold like a reality show, but before Jesse had a chance to say anything, he heard Ella’s voice, and his heart paused for a beat.
“Jesse?” Ella called out.
“Ella.” Jesse struggled to get to his knees and clutched his chest, worried his heart might actually stop at the sight of her running toward him.
Ella fell to the snowy ground before him, her eyes going to the bandage wrapped around his abdomen before he reached for her, to hell with the wound. “They didn’t tell me you’re hurt. What happened?” Tears ran down her cheeks as a soft sob left her mouth. Relief? Worry? Fear? All of the above choking her up? And hell, him too.
Jesse pulled back and cupped her cheeks, needing to look her in the eyes, to double-check she was alive, breathing, and had no scratches on her. “I’m fine. Just a stab wound.”
“We need to get you on the chopper, sir,” one of the guys from the helo said, gesturing for Jesse to stand.
“I’m going with him,” Ella cried, holding on to his arm to help, and he hid a groan from the uncomfortable hole-in-the-gut feeling as he rose. “I’m never leaving your side. You’ve got me for life, you hear me?” she whispered, and he closed his eyes at her words and nearly fell back to the ground.
“We have your brothers to deal with back home,” he reminded her as she and the medic helped him to the helicopter to join Thatcher for a ride to the hospital, most likely in a larger city like Salzburg. “Your family. Mine.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” she said, her voice barely audible over the helo blades, and then Jesse stopped walking and turned toward everyone from Falcon still there.
“Thank you,” he mouthed to them, so damn grateful to be part of a team again, to not be on a one-man show.
And moving forward, he promised he’d be a better man and teammate. And the man Ella deserved.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
WALKINS GLEN, ALABAMA – TWO DAYS LATER
