Maxine’s ears rang as she fought disorientation. She coughed to catch her breath, her lungs feeling as though they had been singed on the inside.
She let out a string of curse words as her eyes scanned the perimeter for threats. She gripped her Sig in her hand. She couldn’t see an assailant, couldn’t see if a second grenade launcher was at the ready.
Blood running down from her forehead impaired her eyesight, but she could still see out of her right eye.
She surveyed her team’s injuries. Ryan lay twenty feet away and out cold. At least she thought he was unconscious. Jenna inspected him for injuries without the panicked expression of someone looking at a corpse.
Vladimir was using his coat to put out flames on Boris’ body.
Pedestrians evacuated the area, screaming as they fled.
“Reece, extraction one block north.”
“Copy.” His voice sounded strained, but she knew his training would make him reserve questions for later.
Questions like: what just happened and who was the intended target? Vladimir or Maxine? Vladimir’s car was the one torched.
“Vladimir, I have a car coming. One block north. Can you manage?”
“Da.” He nodded as he helped Boris to his feet.
He stumbled with the weight of the large man. He caught himself, but a bullet whizzed between him and Maxine.
“Shit! Sniper!”
They crouched behind the burning SUV, waves of heat threatening to catch her hair on fire.
She looked at Jenna and Ryan—open targets. Jenna was struggling to drag Ryan behind a large van parked on the side of the road. Unfortunately, that positioned them further away from Max and Vladimir. At least her cover wasn’t on fire. The side or the van read KOVER. Maxine guessed it was a carpet cleaning crew.
Jenna started tugging Ryan’s gun out of its holster.
Does she know how to use that thing?
Boris spoke through gritted teeth of pain, “Sonya, sniper.” He was talking through an unseen communication device to someone on his own team.
They were pinned down with no way to make it to Reece’s car.
Maxine craned her neck to look around the SUV. Two armed men advanced on them. They wore jeans, black thick-soled boots, and gray cotton shirts. Maxine’s Sig against two automatic weapons didn’t bode well for her. She fired two shots that hit a brick wall behind one of the men.
One of the men opened fire as Maxine ducked back out of view. Bullets sprayed the flaming car and concrete around them. All he had to do was keep them pinned while his associate crept around for a clean shot.
Three shots sounded. Maxine looked to see Jenna firing from under the van at one of the men.
Jenna, we’re going to have a talk about not hiding beneath a tank of gas during a gunfight.
The man wasn’t hit, but rolled in surprise, which gave Maxine time to flatten herself against the concrete walkway and fire at the assailant. Her bullet didn’t miss this time. The man hit the pavement in a heap of bleeding flesh.
The other gunman rounded the van and poised to shoot.
Jenna screamed, trying to scramble out from under the vehicle.
Maxine knew she wouldn’t be able to turn and fire in time.
Another shot sounded—sniper rifle again—but the bullet struck the assailant. He crumpled to the ground.
Maxine rolled back behind the SUV.
“Sonya took out the sniper,” Boris said weakly.
And had the knowledge to turn the gun to their advantage.
Maxine raised her eyebrows in unconcealed admirations.
“She will cover us.”
Maxine holstered her weapon.
“You got him?” She asked Vladimir of Boris.
“Da.”
She hoisted herself to her feet and scurried to Ryan, ignoring the splinters of painful protest in her arthritic knee.
“How bad is he?”
“Concussion at best. Internal hemorrhage at worst.” Jenna replied, her eyes wide as she seemed to fight for control of herself over her fear.
“We need to move. One block north of here. The sniper threat is gone. The new sniper will watch our backs.” Maxine hoped that was true. Sonya worked for Vladimir so she was technically only obligated to watch her boss’ back.
Jenna nodded.
Maxine moved around behind Ryan and squatted. She wrapped her arms around his torso. “You get the legs.”
Jenna complied. Kneeling and facing away from Ryan, she cradled one leg in each arm.
“Stand in three … two ... one.”
They stood together, grunting under the weight.
“Move. Steady pace. Don’t run.”
Neither woman was tall so their brisk paces matched nicely. They fell in behind Vladimir who helped Boris limp through each step.
In the distance, at the next intersection, she could see Reece’s car.
Jenna reached the SUV panting. She helped hoist Ryan into the rear where she quickly joined him. She pulled the Rider SI first-aid bag toward her.
They needed a bigger vehicle. Reece sat in the driver seat. Maxine crawled in next to him. Boris and Vladimir crammed in the back seat.
They drove away from the scene of the crime.
“Safe house,” Maxine told Reece.
Boris protested, “No. We have a ubezhishche.”
“Like hell I’m going to your safe house. That attack was on Vladimir’s life.”
“He stays under my protection.”
Jenna didn’t think Boris looked capable of protecting anyone in his condition.
“Any place you own must be treated as compromised. Skomprometirovan.”
“Bred sivoy kobyly.”
By his tone, Jenna guessed Boris had begun swearing.
Great. Swearing and bickering. Very productive.
She pursed her mouth shut and catalogued everyone’s injuries. Maxine’s scalp bled, leaving a trail down one side of her face. Judging by the blood, the gash would need stitching. Ryan needed close observation. The physician in her wanted to get him to a hospital, but she didn’t know if such a thing would be safe considering their current predicament. Vladimir had some scrapes, nothing detrimental. Boris had second degree burns and possible torn ligaments in his ankle.
Jenna looked at her body, for the first time assessing her own injuries. She had fresh scrapes and contusions to add to the healing ones from the kidnapping, but nothing more serious. Ryan had cradled her and protected her head and body. The vest had helped, too.
Vladimir finally put an end to the disagreement. “Boris, it’s okay. We go to Maxine’s ubezhishche.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jenna checked Ryan’s pupils. She may not have access to a CT scanner, but she could perform frequent neurological checks to ensure he had no catastrophic intracranial bleeding.
Jenna paced the floor in the room adjacent to where Ryan slept. She had made him comfortable and bandaged his lacerations. He had a nasty scalp cut that took her forty minutes to suture, working gingerly. Maxine’s cut took half as long. As she sewed, Marine Max verbally grilled Vladimir on the speculated identity of assailants as Jenna sutured.
Vladimir had narrowed his list down to three enemies.
Guess I’m lucky to only have the two mafia after me.
Jenna didn’t have to wade through a list of possible threats to find who was holding the smoking gun. Smoking grenade launcher.
When Jenna finished patching up Maxine, the bickering couple moved their discussion to a different room. Bickering couple? Yes, that was how they sounded. She wondered how deep the relationship between Maxine and Vladimir ran. He seemed enamored and intrigued by her in his office. Then, he looked worriedly at her injuries as they rode in the car. Did she care about him as much as he seemed to care about her?
Jenna rubbed her temples. Her ears still wrung with sounds of the exploding bomb.
“He’s okay?” Reece asked.
She looked at Ryan’s partner, the only one unscathed from this event.
His mouth twitched, causing his mustache to wiggle.
“Concussion and some scrapes.”
She sat in a nearby chair, feeling defeated. “I’m sorry. My mess has put everyone’s life in danger.”
Reece scowled. “The attack had nothing to do with you. Vladimir has to get his house in order.”
Jenna shook her head. “We wouldn’t be in Moscow if it weren’t for my debt.”
His scowl deepened in an expression that made her feel like she had insulted his mother. “Stop talking like you own this debt. This is your jackass ex-husband’s mess, and all of us would like to beat him to a pulp right now. Nobody blames you.”
His voice still sounded harsh when he added, “But you obviously care about Walsh, so why are you pushing him away?”
Jenna startled at the hostility in his voice. It reminded her of Jess. Jess would be giving Ryan the same grilling if he had pushed her away from him.
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m not great at relationships.”
“Who the hell is?” He blew out a breath in a huff and sat down in a chair across from her.
She glanced up at Reece. “I do like him.”
“Well, Walsh’d tell you it’s none of my business, but if it was my business I might be inclined to let you know a few facts about him. Since he was a teenager, he avoided relationships, fearing he would be a womanizer like his father. As a Ranger, he worried he’d leave some woman a widow during one of his missions. Then he thought his combat past would be a deterrent. He’s finally figured out he’d make a good man—someone worth worrying about. I don’t want the first real relationship he is fighting for to bite him in the ass.”
“I feel the same way about my first real relationship.”
Reece looked at her carefully. In a gentler tone he said, “Walsh would cut off his hand before he did or said anything to hurt you.”
Jenna swallowed. She locked eyes with Reece. “I won’t hurt him. I may take longer to get where he is, but I won’t hurt him.”
Reece nodded as if those were the words he needed to hear. He pushed himself out of his chair and sauntered into another room.
Jenna texted Jess, Meeting with RM (Russian Mafia) over. Went well.
The meeting had gone well; the concussive blast immediately after had not. Jess didn’t need the extra worry of that part of the trip.
Jess, K. Come home safe.
Jenna, Will do.
It occurred to Jenna that she should be in a ball, crying about nearly being incinerated. Instead, she thought about Ryan. She thought about how she had forced distance between them. She thought about Reece’s words.
She called Antigua—international charges be damned.
“Mom, can I talk to you about relationships?” Jenna looked at the slumbering giant on the bed who hadn’t stirred. She kept her voice low.
“Of course.”
“You remember you said I have been self-sufficient and alone for so long?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know any other way, Mom. I met someone. Someone I want to lose my independence to. How do you and Dad do it?”
Jenna knew her parents were inseparable but highly functional. They shared a mutual respect where each one was their own person but synergistically stronger with the other. Their relationship was both fulfilling and required a daunting level of trust.
“We trust each other wholly. What we relinquish in independence we gain by sharing a love together. It takes a leap of faith.”
Jenna fumbled with the zipper on the first aid bag.
Her mother continued, “Think of the patients who put their lives in your hands. That leap of faith requires them to lose some of their independence and rely on someone to help them. If you have feelings for this man, let him help you, heal you.”
“You always said happiness can’t come from another person. It comes from within.”
“Which is true. But people thrive on relationships to help further their inner happiness.”
“Okay.”
“You’re ready, Jenna. Take that leap of faith.”
Jenna chuckled. “Mom, you haven’t even met him.”
“Since you are having this conversation with me, I have no doubts that you have chosen someone worthy. You’re a mature adult with impeccable rationality.”
Jenna recalled a conversation she’d had with her mom about Cal’s boarding school. She struggled to let him go, but she couldn’t let her own selfishness stifle his dreams. Her mom had accused her lightly of ‘impeccable rationality.’ Of course, in the many times her parents had urged her to leave Brad and she had stayed out of some delusional desire to avoid a broken home, her parents had also accused her of impeccable rationality.
“Okay.”
“Leap, Jenna.”
“Okay.”
Easy as a champagne tap lumbar puncture.
Jenna used the cold faucet water of the warehouse to clean. She scrubbed dirt and blood off her and off her clothes, but still had to put the filthy clothes back on. Clothing drenched in sweat and smeared with blood and dirt seemed to be her trend lately.
She crept into bed beside Ryan who occupied most of the thin mattress. She rested her head on his bare chest. His chest rose against her cheek in a deep breath as he rolled to embrace her.
“Jenna.” His voice was barely whisper.
She took a measure of awe and relief to know that if he felt a woman beside him as he slept, he would immediately assume it was her without opening his eyes.
“Jenna!” His eyes flew open as he grasped her.
“Easy there, Banner. You’re okay.”
His gaze and hands roamed over her.
“I’m okay,” she assured him.
He reached for the bandage on his head, but she gently brought his hand back down to his side.
“You have a nasty cut, but it’s stitched.”
“I slept through stitches?”
“You have a concussion. I’m benching you for a week.”
“Max?”
“Maxine is okay. Reece and Vladimir are fine. Boris has some burns and a sprained ankle. Their driver died. They killed three of the attackers—I think. They believe the attack was orchestrated by someone after Vladimir. We’re at our safe house.” She tried to ramble off as many facts as he might find relevant.
He looked at her again and stroked a hand along the side of her head. “You’re okay?”
“Thanks to your cocoon of muscle, yes. You took all of the force.”
He pulled her to him and enveloped her in his arms. Home.
This is what home feels like.
He looked down into her eyes, then down at her lips. She realized he was trying to restrain himself because, per their last conversation, she asked for space.
She moved toward him for a kiss, and he needed no further encouragement. He claimed her lips tentatively at first, growing more bold. They pulled away after the fervor left them both breathless.
She smiled. “Lot’s more of that, but when you’re healed.”
“I’m a picture of health.”
“Um. I had to restrain every iota of physician training to not take you to a hospital during the hours of your unconsciousness.”
He wriggled his body against hers. She bit back a groan.
“We didn’t take you from the barn to the hospital.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “By that time I was awake, so I knew I was okay. I’ve been doing pupil checks and reflexes on you every thirty minutes to make sure you don’t have a head bleed.”
He nibbled on her ear, sending warmth coursing through her body. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“You’ll be fine as long as you take it easy.”
He kissed her neck. “And your prescription?”
“Lime. Coconut. Call me in the morning.”
She felt the deep rumbling of his chuckle where his torso pressed against her.
She sucked in a ragged breath as his lips reached her collarbone.
She put her hand on his chin and lifted his eyes to her. Her voice sobered. “Me, Ryan. My prescription is me and you, together, like this.”
“In a warehouse, on a dilapidated twin bed, after a harrowing explosion?” He gave her a wry smile.
She gave him a playful scowl. “You and me in a relationship,” she explained, though she suspected he knew what she meant but wanted to draw it out of her.
“Intimate and dating?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
As long as I’m alive.
His brow furrowed, and she suspected he interpreted her doleful expression as reluctance when it was more a fear of an unknown future.
“As long as possible,” she replied, kissing him softly and briefly on the lips.
Leap taken.
She stared into his rich brown eyes.
Yep, I’m a goner.
“I plan to be fairly proactive in this relationship. ‘As long as possible’ could be a long time.”
“I’m counting on it.”
The look he gave her of pure affection and desire had her heart melting.
He pulled her to him again, savagely kissing her until all sense of time and space vanished. Fear of the past and future dissolved. She simply existed in this moment, in this amazing man’s arms.