Pyromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 1)

“I’m fine,” she said.

Lann’s voice was strained. “Joss?”

“Sloppy assassin.” Joss chuckled, but the sound was humorless.

“Sloppy or not, I hate bullets flying around my head,” Maya said over her shoulder, holding both handguns aimed at the door. “Where the fuck is air support?”

“Bono, did you get that?” Joss asked.

He let go of Clelia to remove a revolver from his body holster. When another round of shots assaulted the windows, walls, and door, the three agents, or whatever they called themselves, returned fire with a vengeance.

What was happening? Adrenalin coursed through Clelia’s body, dulling the pain in her back. Shit. She was caught in a shootout. She rolled onto her stomach and pushed up onto her elbows. Joss and his team were protecting themselves like maniacs, firing shots through the broken window and closed door, and in any direction the shots came from.

She shivered on the floor, her body trembling from more than her wet clothes. She had to get out of here. While the team was distracted, she had an opportunity to escape. She might not get another chance. She glanced around her. Joss’s attention was fixed on the window to their right. Lann was scanning the yard through the broken kitchen window, and Maya was keeping an eye on the door.

Slowly, she crawled toward the hallway. She had to make it through the door and lock it. It wouldn’t take more than a bullet to shoot open the lock, but it would win her time to get away.

Only a short distance to go. When she was close enough to dive through the doorframe, she jumped to her feet. She’d barely taken a step when a hand closed around her ankle. The grip broke her run. She went down with a cry, but a pair of arms locked around her, once more absorbing some of the shock. The fall still hurt enough to steal her voice. She struggled, but her efforts had no effect on Joss, who only tightened his arms around her, squeezing the air out of her lungs.

“Fuck, Cle,” he said through gritted teeth. “Do you want to die?”

He dragged her to the wall and pushed her against it with his body covering hers. Fisting his hand in her hair with a grip that was firm without hurting, he tilted her face to his. The intensity in his eyes was startling. His lips brushed over the lobe of her ear, his breath hot on her skin as he whispered, “Don’t ever make the mistake of running from me. You don’t want to make me come after you.”

A shiver ran over her body at the menacing tone of the soft-spoken words. Before she could think of a reply, the noise of a helicopter sounded.

“Permission to fire,” Joss said. A short pause followed. “Fuck.” He loosened his grip on her hair, dragging his fingers over her skull in a soothing action. “Did you get a visual?” He listened to the reply. “We’re coming out. Circle around until we’re mobile and see if you can pick up the shooter.”

He locked his fingers around her bicep and pulled her to her feet. “Can you walk?”

Too shocked for defiance or resistance, she nodded.

Joss escorted her outside with Lann and Maya flanking them.

“Scan for explosives,” Joss said.

Maya pulled something that looked like a metal detector from a duffle bag on her shoulder and ran ahead. She flicked a button and did a quick search of the SUV before nodding at Joss. He pushed Clelia into the back and took the seat next to her. Lann sat opposite them and Maya took the wheel. They each knew exactly which position to take. They appeared to function like a well-oiled machine.

Clelia’s heart thumped in her chest. Every muscle and bone in her body ached.

Joss addressed the Russian. “Assessment?”

“Like you said, sharpshooter.” Lann’s voice was calm, but tension rolled off him. “We better warn Cain.”

“We didn’t have any fucking intelligence of an attack,” Maya said as she started the engine and took a dirt track that led to the village.

“Bono,” Joss said, “are we clear?”

“Either we were the targets,” Lann said, “or he was after someone else.” He looked pointedly at Clelia.

Clelia hugged herself, shaking with cold.

Joss put an arm around her shoulders. “You’ll be fine. It’s the shock.”

She tried to scoot away, but he tightened his hold.

“Where are we going?” Maya asked, glancing at them in the rearview mirror.

“D11.” Joss dragged a hand over his face. “Bono, take her down in ten. If we don’t have a tail on our killer by then, he’s gotten away. There are too many holidaymakers to use infrared. We’ll run the satellite recording and see if we can nail anyone with a weapon. Maya, brief Cain on our status. He’s coming in by helijet. He needs to know we’re exposed before he crosses French airspace. Lann, set up a safe house before Cain arrives. Maya, we’ll need to shift our ground base to the safe house as soon as Lann has secured a new location.”