“He thinks I’m coming from town and has no idea we’re already here. Okay, new plan. Darius and Judd, I want you covering the loading dock. The rest of you split into teams of two. I want you to breach on the north and south sides, quiet as you can. I’m taking a cruiser and driving in as he expects. I’ll come in with sirens. That should cover the sound of your entry and draw his attention to me. Each of the buildings is connected, so you should be able to move quickly to his location. Reuben takes point, as our resident SEAL. I guarantee he’ll expect me to disarm when I get there.”
“You’re not really going to give up your gun,” Judd said.
Ethan lifted his pant leg and checked the compact Sig Sauer 1911 Ultra strapped to his ankle. “Not this one. But I’ll lose precious seconds if I have to go for it, so I’m gonna need additional cover.”
Judd flexed his injured hand. His gun hand. “I wish I could go in to back you up properly.”
“You have a pregnant wife at home. You were staying out here to begin with,” Ethan told him. “Let’s move.”
He hiked back to where he’d left the cruiser, doing his best to slow his breathing and detach himself from the situation. But this wasn’t just another day on the job, wasn’t just any victim inside. It was the woman he loved, and she’d been hurt because he hadn’t been fast enough or good enough to protect her. That wasn’t a mistake he’d make again.
Because he knew Harley would expect it, he came in hot, flying through the gates and around the building on squealing tires, siren blaring.
Pay attention to me, you son of a bitch.
Exiting the vehicle, he caught the quick on-off of a flashlight from the perimeter. Judd’s sign that the breach was successful. Backup would be working their way into position. Drawing his Glock .40, he tugged open the door. He didn’t really think Harley would shoot him on sight, but he took the time to clear the entry and search for cover—almost none.
A scuffle of footsteps drew his attention toward the back of the warehouse.
Harley hauled Miranda to her feet, using her as a human shield. “Got here awful fast.”
“I was in the neighborhood. Let her go, Harley.” Ethan edged his way forward, his Glock at the ready.
“Put the gun down, Greer.” The order was punctuated by a hiss from Miranda, and Ethan realized the bastard held a knife to her throat.
Instantly lifting his hands in an I’m-no-threat gesture, Ethan crouched and laid the pistol on the ground, automatically flipping the safety on.
“Kick it away.”
Ethan did as he was told, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the two of them. “I did what you asked. Let her go.”
“I’m the one who gives orders here.” He yanked her more firmly in front of him, backing them both into a shaft of moonlight from one of the high warehouse windows.
Ethan got his first good look at Harley’s handiwork. She looked like she’d gone ten rounds with a prize-fighter. One eye was swollen shut and her entire face was a mask of blood and bruises. And that was just what he could see. Given the pained way she moved, he knew that was only scratching the surface. Vision going red, he struggled not to rush Harley. He could slit Miranda’s throat well before Ethan could tear him in two.
A quick movement in his peripheral vision told him his backup had arrived. Keeping his focus on Harley, he kept moving forward. “Okay then. What is it you want?”
“What I wanted was for both of you to keep your noses out of my business. Neither of you had any right to interfere with my wife, my life. But you just couldn’t leave well enough alone.”
Ethan continued toward them. “So what kind of resolution are you imagining here?”
“Resolution? Resolution? Do you think this is some kind of fucking negotiation?” The knife moved a fraction away from her throat, as if he was having trouble fighting the urge to talk with his hands.
“You want something or you wouldn’t have asked me to come here. So what is it?”
“I want you to pay. I want you to know what it feels like to have your woman taken from you while you can only stand and watch.”
“What good is that gonna do you, Harley? You kill her, I kill you.” As he spoke, Ethan shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, ready for action. He was almost close enough. Even if you manage to take me out, others will catch you, and you’ll be prosecuted for capital murder. You will get the death penalty. Is a few moments of retribution worth your life?”
Harley whipped the knife away, using it to point as he shouted, “Don’t you fu—”
The shot rang out and everything tripped into slow motion. Harley screamed. Blood sprayed. The knife fell from what remained of his hand. His grip on Miranda loosened, and Ethan dove forward. Miranda drove her bound hands into Harley’s gut. As he released her, she fell to the floor, and the other man stumbled, reaching behind his back and pulling a gun, aiming it directly at her. Ethan collided with Miranda, wrapping his body around her and taking her to the ground, even as all hell broke loose in a hail of bullets around them.
Chapter 26
Miranda’s ears still rang from the echo of all the shots, and she could barely breathe from the weight of Ethan’s bulk over her. Dimly, she realized a bunch of men had moved in, with guns trained on Harley.
“Dead,” one of them pronounced.
Ethan shifted, starting to push off her. “You okay?” he wheezed.
“I’m alive.” Thanks to him. She needed her hands free so she could wrap her arms around him and never let go.
His face blanched as he shoved up and off her, flopping onto his back in a graceless heap.
Miranda rolled toward him. “Ethan?”
Reuben Blanchard crouched beside him. “Shit. He’s been hit. Three shots. At least one pierced his vest. Radio for medical.”
“Cut me loose. Cut me loose!” Miranda demanded. As soon as they’d sliced through her bindings with a tactical knife, she scrambled over to Ethan. Blood was pooling beneath him. She reached to tear open his shirt but couldn’t make her abused fingers work for any kind of fine motor skills.
“Get his amour off. I need to see the wound. One of you go out to my car. Break in if you have to. Unless Harley moved it, there should be a medical bag in the backseat.”
They burst into a flurry of movement.
Ethan coughed. “I’ll be fine.” But his breath was going shallower by the second.
“Don’t talk.” She’d wondered as she’d worked on Corbett Raines what it would be like to have Ethan’s life in her hands. Now it was and she couldn’t actually use her training. Not the way she needed to.
They pulled away the vest. Miranda shoved up his undershirt and saw the entry wound midway up the left side of his torso, toward the bottom of his ribcage, only inches from the scar of the last time he’d been shot. She allowed the terror to pulse through her for one, single beat before shoving it and the agony in her own body down and away.
Pointing to Clint, she began snapping more orders. “Roll him over. I need to check for the exit wound.” The bullet could have been deflected at a weird angle because of entry through the vest or ricocheted off a rib. She needed a set of steady hands.