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.