Maverick (Elite Ops 2)

“Micah, it’s Jordan. Dammit, stand down.”

Jordan came to a hard crouch as the other shadows, Nik and Noah, were suddenly there as well.

Micah wiped his arm over his face again, feeling the blood that seeped from his forehead and altered his vision as it dripped into his eyes.

“Is she shot?” he screamed. “I fired. I fired, Jordan. Did I hit her?” His hands ran down her arms, her waist. He couldn’t find a wound, but he was terrified to turn her over, too scared he would hurt her worse before help could arrive.

“Ambulance is on its way!” Noah yelled over the sound of sirens approaching. “Son of a bitch, Noah. We could see him jerking at her and couldn’t get past those damned cars deadlocked back there. I haven’t run that far that fast in my life.”

Micah shook his head. Dammit, he couldn’t see her clear enough. He couldn’t keep the blood out of his eyes.

“Risa,” he choked out her name as Jordan began moving her. “Did I hit her? I fired. The bastard almost had her, Jordan. He almost took her.”

Control. He was losing control, losing focus. He’d just held her in his lap no more than a few hours ago and given her her first taste of pleasure. There had been a smile on her lips before the world had gone to hell. She had been thinking about him. He’d eased her, gentled her. He couldn’t have hurt her.

“I said stand down, Micah!” Jordan’s tone was a lash of command. “She’s been injected. He broke the skin. Looks like a sedative. She’s out cold. No wounds other than surface cuts. Ambulance is here.”

Dizzying weakness tore through Micah.

“Noah, ride with her. Make sure.” He felt something on his forehead. “Don’t leave her alone.”

“Dammit, we’re not leaving her alone,” Jordan cursed. “Hold that on your stubborn-assed head until we get the paramedics over here. Son of a bitch, you’re as bad as Noah.”

As bad as Noah? Hell no. No one was as bad as Noah when he was wounded. The man was like a kamikaze when he saw his own blood. Unless his wife was around. No, if Bella was there, then he was like a big-assed baby crying for attention. Micah was doing neither.

He lifted Risa against his chest, lowered his head over hers, and whispered a prayer against her forehead. She was okay. He could feel her even breaths. She wasn’t struggling to breathe. He let his fingers find her pulse; it was slow but steady.

She had been injected. A sedative. She’d been given a sedative. But she had fought the bastard. Micah had heard her screams; he’d seen her lash out at her assailant’s face.

“Fingernails.” He lifted his head to find Jordan. “Her fingernails. DNA. She raked his face.”

“Good girl!” Jordan exclaimed. “The paramedics are here. I’ll have them preserve anything they find. Get ready now, dammit; we have to move her.”

Micah’s hold tightened on her. He couldn’t let her go. He wouldn’t be certain she was safe. He had almost failed her once, he couldn’t fail her again.

“Dammit, Micah—”

“Jordan, get them in together and fucking let it the hell go,” Noah suddenly cursed. “He’s not going to let her go.”

He wasn’t letting her go. He gripped his gun in one hand, his arms wrapped around her as he held her to his chest.

“Get them in the ambulance together. Micah’s injuries are worse; she’s sedated. You have the power to do it, now do it, and let’s get them the hell out of here.”

Micah let the argument drift away. He struggled as they lifted Risa onto a stretcher. The paramedic tried to push him back until he found the business end of Micah’s weapon in his throat. Micah was pushed into the ambulance with her moments later as he fought to blink the damned blood out of his eyes. Weak but conscious, he let the paramedic check the head wound, Micah’s gun held carefully at the side of his leg as he heard Jordan in the front of the ambulance barking out orders to the driver.

Hell, this was going to screw with the op, Micah knew. Hopefully Orion had run far and fast when he realized that Micah was shooting at him and others were running for the wreck.

He might not know that the people running for them were members of an operational team. Jordan could cover this, and he would, to the best of his ability. He was already directing the ambulance to a private clinic rather than the public hospital.

That would work. The paramedics would be briefed before they could leave with whatever story Jordan was cooking up in his head. Jordan was damned good at lies. It was what made him a helluva team leader. He got things done. He fixed things.

“How is she?” Micah turned to the paramedic as he finished radioing their stats to the clinic.

“She’s out like a light.”

Micah had his first look at the medical tech. He was older, possibly in his forties. His gray eyes were concerned, his expression confident. He was a man who had pretty much seen it all. He didn’t seem fazed.

“How’s your vision?” He held up two fingers.