Rough Edges (10 page)

V
ictor realized what had happened the second he heard the single shot below followed immediately by Bella's tormented scream.

Gage was dead.

She burst from their covered position. He wasn't quite fast enough to let go of his rifle and grab her before she could bolt. His only option now was to keep her alive long enough to yell at her for being so reckless.

He laid down a steady stream of cover fire while she raced to the farmhouse. The men below stayed pinned down, but there were too many of them. One of them was going to take her out, even if it was with a lucky shot.

He was almost out of ammo. She was almost out of time.

Bella emptied her rifle as she ran. Her shots tore through a rotting support post, hitting the man hiding behind it. He fell and didn't get back up.

Another man darted from cover toward the back of the open truck. Victor didn't want to kill the man, but at this range, he had no choice. His tranq gun wouldn't work at this distance, and once that man reached the truck, he'd be in the perfect position to kill Bella.

Victor aimed for the man's right arm. His hit was good, but the man didn't stop. He snarled as he turned, tossing his gun to his left hand in a move worthy of Hollywood. The look of hatred on his face as he spotted Bella was more than enough proof that he thought she'd fired the shot.

The man raised his weapon. Victor shifted his aim and fired.

The man fell where he stood, dead.

So much for saving the lives of the people Stynger had hurt.

Before Victor had time to think about what he'd been forced to do, another man flung the farmhouse door open and started firing at Bella.

She fired back, but her rifle was empty. As she ran, she pulled a pair of tranq guns from her holsters and fired.

Another man popped up from his concealed position, taking aim at her.

Victor's gun clicked. Empty. He was useless from here now. He had to get closer.

He broke through the weeds, running as fast as he could to close the distance between him and the men below.

Shots rang out from everyone. Bella must have finally realized the danger she faced and dove behind a low stone wall around what had once been a decorative planting. The men who remained started retreating for the truck at the same time, playing a deadly game of leapfrog as they covered one another.

One of them spotted Victor in the dark. He called out a warning to his buddies, who turned to face the incoming threat.

There was nowhere for Victor to hide. The best he could do was hit the ground and hope that the shallow depression in the earth and his body armor would keep him from being injured, or worse.

As he dove for the dirt, one of the bad guys fell. Bella rose from her hiding place, wielding a pistol in each hand.

“You will not kill another one of my men!” she screamed as she fired.

There was no calm in her anywhere. He could see the frantic flurry of emotion rioting through her shaking frame, hear it in her wavering voice. Still, her guns were steady as she fired, felling another man.

The last one dove headfirst into the truck and yelled, “Go, go, go!”

The truck took off, gaining speed as it went.

Bella kept firing into the back. The man inside returned fire, and based on the dirt flying up around her feet, it was only a matter of seconds before she took a hit.

Victor sprang up and tackled her to the ground, covering her body with his as the truck and its occupants fled.

She fought against his hold, but he kept her pinned down safely until the sound of the engine was too faint to be heard.

By the time it was safe to let go, her body was shaking with sobs of grief.

Victor turned her over, and the emotional devastation lining her face was enough to break even a strong man's heart.

“They killed him,” she said between hard, heavy breaths. “Shot him in the head at close range.”

He didn't ask if she was sure. Every tear that fell told him she was. And he sure as hell wasn't eager to let her go in that house and see the damage that had been done to their friend's body up close.

“Confirm what you just said,” Payton said.

“Gage is dead,” she said, then shoved off her headset.

“We're coming for you now,” Payton said, but only Victor heard it.

All he could do was hold her while the emotional storm raged through her, so that's what he did. He wrapped his arms around her and held on tight. Their weapons and armor made the hug awkward, but no less potent. He would have rather felt her body's softness against him, but even this—with the tough plates of armor blocking the feel of her—was good. It struck some chord deep inside of him, creating a kind of harmony he'd never before experienced.

He hated her pain, but felt like he'd been born for this very moment—born to hold and comfort her when no one else could.

Victor kept his senses open, making sure none of the enemy was left behind. He stroked her hair and face, giving her every bit of solace he knew how to offer.

After a few minutes, her tears dried up and she began closing herself off from him. He could feel the process happen in the way she went tense, in the way she began peeling herself away from his embrace.

He let her go grudgingly, wondering if he'd ever again have the chance to hold her while simultaneously hoping he'd never have a reason quite so gruesome. Suffering was the last thing he wanted for her.

She got to her feet and scrubbed the wetness from her face. She put fresh magazines in her weapons and dusted the dirt and weeds from her clothes. By the time she looked at him again, she was wearing her game face.

“I'm going in there to get him,” she said.

“Let me do it,” Victor offered.

“He's
my
man. My
friend
. I'll do it.”

“I'm not letting you go alone. I don't care if you scream at me or hit me or draw a weapon. I'm going in there with you.”

She swallowed hard and nodded.

Victor walked beside her to the house, letting her set the pace. He kept his body between her and the dead men lying nearby. They hadn't been her friends, but that didn't mean she couldn't be hurt by their deaths, too. As tough as she was, she still had a heart—one he was just now learning was vulnerable to pain and grief like everyone else.

For some reason, that made him like her even more. It also made him want to protect her, which for a woman like Bella, was practically a sin.

She paused in the doorway. There was a battery-operated lantern still glowing inside. They couldn't yet see Gage's body, but even knowing it was there was enough to give the house the feel of a tomb.

Victor put his hand at the small of her back, offering what support he could. He didn't push or hold her back. He simply waited beside her until she was ready.

Bella stepped inside the threshold and stopped. Blood lay splattered across the dusty wood floor in a pattern that reminded him of fireworks. The body lay slumped, still tied to the chair. The back of his head was a pulpy crater where the bullet had exited his skull.

The sound of her breathing through her mouth was loud in the quiet house. She let out a faint whimper that Victor studiously ignored.

He couldn't let her see more. It wasn't fair to let the sight of Gage with a gunshot wound to his head be the last memory she had of him.

“Stay here,” he said, using the same tone he did to order men under his command.

He stripped out of his armor and shirt. The armor went back on, but the shirt was going over Gage's head to hide it from sight.

Victor stepped around the body to cover his face and stopped dead in midmotion. He tilted his head to get a better view.

“It's not Gage,” he said.

Bella blinked twice and frowned, confused. “What?”

Victor looked again to be sure. He didn't want to get her hopes up, but there was no way he was wrong. This man's nose was too large, his face too wide. “It's not him.”

“But I was so sure. The build, the clothes . . .”

He lifted his gaze, hating that he had to ask her to do this. “I was sure, too. But come see for yourself.”

She stepped around the body, giving it a wide margin. The dead man stared lifelessly at her boots. “His eyes are brown. Gage has blue eyes. It's not him.” The sound of relief in her voice was palpable.

She covered her mouth with her fist and raced out of the house.

Victor blanketed the man's head with his shirt and followed after her. He found her crouched at the bottom of the next hill, several yards from the house, hugging her middle. She sucked in huge gulps of air and rocked slightly as she sobbed with relief.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Not even close. But I will be. Gimme a minute.”

Victor hovered at her side as relief washed through him. He looked for some way to help but found none, so he simply stroked her hair, hoping it would calm her as it had before.

After a few minutes, she gathered herself and stood. Her pale gray eyes seemed too bright under the moon, blazing with a kind of warning he didn't understand.

“I'm okay now. But if you ever tell anyone that I broke down like his, I'll cut off your balls and wear them as earrings. Understood?”

He let his hand fall from her hair and took a step back. He hated it that she had the power to hurt him with just a few words. “You think that's the kind of man I am? That I'd mock your grief or think you less of a woman because you care about your friend enough to show emotion when you thought he was dead? We've been working together for months now. If that's the type of man you think I am, then you haven't been paying attention.”

“I know you're worried that I'm going to crack like the others. I know you're watching me. Judging me.”

“I'm not doing anything that I wouldn't do with any other man whom I was with in the field. It's our job to watch out for each other. If you have a problem with that, then you're not fit to step foot outside of your office. The stakes are too high.”

“I'm not too weak to be in the field. I'm sorry if that threatens your manliness, honey.”

Victor laughed, though the sound was empty of all humor. “My manliness is completely intact,
honey
. And if you don't believe me, I'll be happy to prove it.”

He grabbed her hips and pulled them so tightly against his body it made the armored vest bite into his skin. He knew holding her, provoking her, was a mistake, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. She tested him at every turn, pushing him away when all he wanted to offer her was a little comfort and compassion.

The second he felt her body heat against his groin, he got hard in a nearly painful rush. She was tall enough that their bodies lined up a little too well. He knew without a doubt that she felt his erection grow.

The way her pupils flared and her cheeks flushed proved it.

He should have let her go at that point. But he couldn't. He needed this contact. And after what she'd been through, so did she. Maybe it wasn't soft and gentle, but it was definitely the kind of thing that reminded a woman she was alive.

Victor was definitely feeling alive now. The adrenaline rush of battle was singing through his veins, heating his blood and bringing out all kinds of barbaric instincts. If she even knew half of the things he wanted to do to her right now—with or without her consent—she'd have pressed her gun against his head.

But she didn't know what he wanted. What he needed. And he wasn't about to let go and allow his instincts free rein. He would stay in control long enough to deal with what they had to face.

After he found the strength to pull his body away from hers.

It felt too good to have her pressed hard against him. His hands controlled her hips completely, pinning her in place. His fingers clenched against her compulsively as he tried to convince himself to let go.

Maybe it was the heat of battle, but he'd never before wanted a woman as fast and hard as he wanted Bella right now.

She licked her lips, leaving behind a moist sheen that glistened in the moonlight. He saw the instant she shifted from shocked to something else. Something hot and filled with acute feminine awareness.

Her muscles relaxed, surrendering to his hold. She went soft in his arms—something he wasn't sure a woman as hard as Bella even knew how to do.

She stared at his mouth for a moment too long, telling him she was thinking about kissing him—something he'd been trying to avoid for too many weeks now.

They were too far away from the house to even see its light. Darkness enclosed them. The night air swirled around them, humid and scented with wild, growing things. It cooled the sweat of combat and the heat of his growing desire that clung to his skin.

Her lips parted, and he realized that he'd been staring at her mouth too. Had she noticed?

A quick glance at her eyes told him she had. There was a knowing quality shining in those pale gray eyes. That, and a whole lot of interest.

That was all Victor needed to know. If she wanted his kiss half as much as he did hers, she wasn't going to shoot him for what he was about to do.

He let his hands slide up her body, skimming over weapons and armor until he reached her slender neck. His fingers trailed along her hot skin, sliding through her hair until her head was in his grip.

As his boss, she controlled a lot of things between them, but she wasn't going to control this.

Victor gripped her hair just tight enough to elicit a gasp from her lips so they would open, then dove in to take what he'd been wanting for far too long.

The second his mouth covered hers, he knew he was in trouble. This wasn't just a meeting of skin—a quick thrill of the flesh or a postcombat stress relief. This was coming home. It was something he'd been searching for all his life with no success. Until now.

She tasted sweet, hot and wild. The soft sound of her voice lifted in a quiet moan went to his head. He thrust his tongue between her lips, giving her no time to deny him.