Brody's Vow (Colebrook Siblings Trilogy Book 1) (15 page)

“Let me up,” she ordered, shoving at him.

He slid off her, biting back a growl of pain as he got to his hands and knees. The ache in his thigh was so bad he could barely get the muscles to obey him. By the time he’d made it to his feet Trinity was already moving, racing for the ditch in front of them. She jumped into it just as more shots rang out from the field.

“Fucker,” Brody snarled under his breath, wishing he had NVGs to see the bastard. He rushed after her as fast as his bum leg would allow, heart in his throat at knowing Trinity was going after the shooter without him there to back her up.

She was lying on her belly on the upward slope of the far side of the ditch when he reached the edge of it. Before he could say anything, she began leopard-crawling over the lip and lay there perfectly still as he began the descent down the steep side of the grassy ditch, cursing his limited mobility and speed.

Two more shots punched through the silence. She sucked in a breath and his heart seized.

Trinity!

He bit the shout back for fear of drawing the shooter’s attention. His weakened leg gave out and he slipped, sliding back down as she suddenly burst to her feet and ran into the rows of cornstalks.

A burst of adrenaline blasted through him. He scrambled up the slope, determined to protect her and hunt that bastard down.

Trinity ran through the field, dodging cornstalks and uneven clumps of earth as she moved toward the shooter’s last location. He’d made a fatal error by firing multiple shots at her. One of the bullets had impacted a rock or log or something and sent up bits of debris that had cut her arm.

He had a pistol. She had a rifle. And now that she was on him it was only a matter of time before she got him.

When she was on the hunt, she always caught her prey.

Brody’s hushed footfalls approached behind her. She didn’t look back or try to communicate with him. This was the critical point. The shooter was close, she could feel him out there, watching for her. While she didn’t need backup, she liked knowing Brody was nearby and had her six out here in the darkness.

Brody was just behind her when she caught a flash of movement in the weak moonlight filtering through the cornstalks. Her feet were silent on the soft earth as she followed it, the butt of the rifle solid against her shoulder, cheek pressed to the side of the stock.

Through her night vision scope, she finally spotted him, crouched to her left, about twenty yards away. He was raising his pistol, ready for another shot but he never got the chance.

She aimed at the center of his chest and squeezed the trigger, firing two shots in rapid succession. He grunted and crumpled. “Got him,” she said to Brody as he reached her, then moved forward, keeping her rifle trained on her target.

Cornstalks swished against her scrubs as she strode toward her prey. In seconds she was standing over top of him. The man lay twisted on his side in the dirt, groaning, the wet gurgling noise telling her she’d shattered his lungs. Then she stepped to the side and a surge of satisfaction shot through her when she recognized Tino’s face in the weak light.

Brody stepped around her and kicked Tino’s pistol from his limp hand, then crouched and patted him down all over. “Who else is coming after her,” Brody demanded, gripping the thug’s chin in his fingers.

Tino tried to jerk his head away. Blood poured out of his nose and mouth and he choked, thrashing weakly.

“Who else, Tino?” she snapped, rage running hot through her veins. This asshole had almost killed her, as well as Brody. She hoped he was in fucking agony right now.

His head rolled a few inches, his blue eyes locking on hers with a mixture of hatred and fear. “Fuck. You,” he rasped out, then convulsed.

Brody leaned over him, totally unsympathetic to his plight. “Tell her,” he growled.

Too late. Tino had stopped thrashing, his eyes already sliding closed.

While she stood over him Brody checked his carotid pulse, then looked up at her and shook his head.

She was glad he was dead.

“Think he sent anyone else after you?” Brody asked her as he rose, wincing.

“No.” At least, she didn’t think so. For him this was personal. He’d have wanted to kill her himself. “But we need to get the hell out of here.” Because for Tino to have found her apartment—the one she’d rented prior to becoming Eva Gregorivich—it meant someone within the CIA had likely leaked it to him. She was going to dig into that until she had answers, because until the source was found, her life was on the line.

He nodded, stepped up to take her arm as he led her away. “You all right?”

“Yeah. You?”

“I’ll feel better once I’ve got you someplace safe.”

With the rush of the hunt over, his words made warmth spread through her body. “Thanks for having my back.”

“Any time.”

They moved quietly through the cornfield. She was already planning their next move. They had to get out of here before anyone else saw them, then try to disappear while she figured out how to handle this mess. Because somebody had betrayed her. No way he should have been able to find out where her hideout was.

She reached back for Brody’s hand when they got to the side of the ditch. He hesitated, scowling, then reluctantly took hers and allowed her to help him descend the steep slope. On the other side she stopped dead when she reached the road.

To her left a truck suddenly appeared at the T in the road and turned the corner. Just as Tino had done, the driver hit the gas and raced straight for them. She automatically dropped to one knee and took aim, ready to shoot the driver.

Brody grabbed her arm, jerking the barrel of the rifle down. “No! It’s Wyatt.”

Brody stepped past her as the familiar raised truck roared up and screeched to a stop behind Tino’s SUV. The headlights shut off then the driver’s door shot open and Wyatt exploded out of the cab, racking the pump action of the shotgun in his hands. He stalked toward them, the glare from the other vehicle’s headlights showing his deadly expression.

“We’re okay,” Brody called out, stepping out where Wyatt could see them, motioning to Trinity before raising his hands. He was careful to stay out of the light, in case there were other threats in the area they were unaware of. “They’re both dead.”

Wyatt’s gaze cut to him, then moved from him to Trinity. “Any others?” His voice was tense.

“We don’t think so.”

Brody hoped she was right.

Wyatt didn’t relax his pose, just scanned the immediate area. Brody closed the distance between them, and when he got near enough to see his brother’s face up close, he inwardly cursed. Wyatt’s nostrils were flared, his jaw clenched tight.

“Hey. We’re okay. Look at me,” Brody said in a low voice.

Wyatt’s hazel eyes finally cut to his, and Brody could see the molten fury mixed with the terror there. Seeing that look from his emotionally distant brother hit him hard. “I’m okay,” he repeated quietly, setting a hand on Wyatt’s shoulder. No surprise, the muscles there were rock hard, quivering.

Slowly, Wyatt lowered the shotgun. His breathing was erratic, his posture slowly relaxing. But that terrible mix of rage and fear made Brody’s gut clench. His brother had been through a lot of shit and this must have triggered it all over again.

“
Nobody
fucks with my family,” Wyatt grated out, his voice low and deadly.

Brody nodded, taken aback by the transformation in his cool, withdrawn brother. The threat was over but Wyatt still looked ready to fucking kill something. “I know, man.” He squeezed the solid shoulder. “Thanks for having my back.”

Wyatt inhaled and let the breath out slowly, then nodded.

Brody turned back to look at Trinity, who stood frozen by the side of the road, the rifle locked in her grip. He held out a hand, beckoning to her.

She walked toward him, eyeing him and Wyatt. Brody wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in tight. She wasn’t shaky but her breathing was elevated. God, she amazed him. If not for her, he’d likely be lying on the ground bleeding out right now.

“The cops’ll be here any minute,” Wyatt interrupted.

Brody snapped his attention to him. “What?”

“I called 911 on my work phone on my way here. I knew something bad was going down. You didn’t hang up when I called you—I could hear everything that happened from the apartment onward.”

Brody reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. Sure enough, the call was still connected. He ended it, put the phone away. “How did you find us?”

“Tracked your phone with an app.” He transferred the shotgun to one hand, lowered it to his side. “What do you want to do?”

Brody looked at Trinity. When the cops arrived she had to be long gone. If the CIA refused to vouch for her then she could potentially be in a precarious position. “Give me your weapon. You need to get out of here.”

Her eyes widened in surprise for a moment before her lips clamped together and she shook her head, holding her rifle out of reach. “No. No way I’m leaving you to deal with this for me.”

He stepped forward and snatched it from her, began wiping it for prints. “You have to. Go, quick.” His voice was hard, commanding.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain killing two men or having an unregistered weapon, let alone evidence of her presence left behind. Forensics didn’t lie, so it was going to be tricky. He’d have to call DeLuca, try to get help that way before he was forced to lie to the cops about what had happened.

Without wasting time arguing, Brody pushed her toward his brother. “Take her to my place and stay there with her. Don’t let her leave.” With that he turned and headed back to his truck to await the cops, ready to do whatever it took to protect Trinity.

Wyatt’s pulse was still beating triple time as he gripped Trinity’s upper arm and dragged her toward his truck. He was breathing hard, raw adrenaline coursing through his body.

What. The actual. Fuck.

Whatever the hell Trinity was involved in, it had almost proven deadly tonight. For her
and
his brother.

He clenched his teeth together and bit back all the curses and questions he wanted to bark at her for this. When he’d finally turned onto that road and had seen the body lying on the asphalt, his heart had stopped beating. Even now, having seen that Brody was okay, he was still damn near shaking.

His family was everything to him.
Everything
.

They’d been there for him when no one else had. Through the blackest, bleakest moments of his life that had turned from days into weeks, then into months that had stretched into years. Nobody threatened them or put them at risk, least of all the beautiful woman Brody had for whatever reason risked his life for.

Grits was in the front passenger seat, front paws on the dash, tail wagging as they approached the truck. Wyatt had decided at the last minute to take him along to the VA appointments today and the dog had been a definite hit with the staff and patients there. He might even have the makings of a decent therapy dog.

“Grits. Off,” he commanded, snapping his fingers and pointing at the floor.

His pulse was slowing but he was still shaky as hell, queasy with fear and relief. It put him right back to that hellish day in eastern Afghanistan. Every bit of it was wrenchingly vivid in his mind, the sensations careening inside him sharp and fresh as ever. He fought them, afraid he might miss a potential threat still lurking out here in the darkness.

Goddamn it. Goddamn
her
, for doing this to them. “Get in,” he growled at her, forcing himself to pry his fingers off her arm. At his deadly tone Grits slunk off the seat and sat in the foot well while Trinity climbed in without a word.

Slamming her door shut, Wyatt stole one last look at his brother, checked around him to make sure everything was okay as it could be, then stalked around to the driver’s side and got in. It went against everything in him to abandon Brody right now, and driving the getaway car for her was going to land him in a huge pile of shit if the cops ever found out.

Loyalty to his brother came first. If Brody insisted he take Trinity away, then he would. But he wanted to find out what the hell was going on and just why Brody was willing to stick his neck out so far for her. They’d only met a few damn days ago, so how much could she possibly mean to him? It didn’t make any fucking sense.

“How many others are still out there?” he demanded as he started the engine. He was steadier now, but barely in control. Hanging onto his anger by a thread.

Her chin came up. “I don’t know, but with Tino gone, I think the coast is clear now.” Her voice was calm. Too calm.

The answer wasn’t exactly convincing
.
He did a fast three-point turn and sped back down the road. In the rearview mirror he watched Brody, standing next to Tino’s SUV, his shadowy silhouette growing smaller as they drove away.

Wyatt pushed out a hard exhalation and gripped the steering wheel tighter. If Brody got hurt because of this woman, he would tear her apart.

Trinity wanted to argue. She could have broken free of Wyatt’s grasp. She could even have ditched both of them and taken off across the cornfield. In this darkness and with their limited mobility, she might have made it, too.

She had done none of those things, for two reasons.

One, Brody was right in that she absolutely needed to be gone by the time the cops arrived. And two, she was going to wait at Brody’s because this could turn into a goddamn shit show of bureaucratic bullshit and red tape if she had to get the CIA involved to clear her, and she wasn’t about to let Brody wind up facing disciplinary action or worse in an effort to save her ass.

God, it felt wrong to leave him back there to deal with the fallout alone, abandoning him to fend off any more threats should another one materialize. The only thing that helped soothe her conscience was knowing that he was well armed and even better trained. And, as far as she could tell, the threat was over, since Tino and his goon were both dead.