Hot Zone (Elite Force 2)

“I took care of Oliver, just as I can take care of anyone who tries to pervert my mission.”

From the corner of her eye, Amelia tried to check her peripheral vision but so far hadn’t seen anyone move. Why the hell wouldn’t that nurse with the baby step away and give cops freer rein to move in? “You killed Oliver?”

“I shot him. He deserved to die. You people don’t understand what you have done in stopping me.” She swung the gun in a wide circle at the dozen or so people remaining. “Those children would be nothing without me.”

Amelia’s heart lurched as the wide arc swept past Hugh’s broad chest. His eyes met hers and held. She could see the steely determination glinting even from far away. She knew he would stop at nothing to be a crusader. What might he sacrifice now? Just the thought of how far he would go terrified her with images of his lifeless body sprawled on the ground.

Fear made her sway—and distracted her. She needed to pull Jocelyn’s focus back to her before she shot someone else. “It’s not about you and how fast you shuttle the most kids around. It’s about them and ensuring their safety. And believe me, speaking as someone who spent some time with Oliver and Tandi, safety was not uppermost in their minds.”

Something flickered in Jocelyn’s face, something like… guilt?

Amelia pressed. “Do you really believe that was the first time Oliver pulled something like that? He was going to sell me as some kind of sex slave. God only knows what he did to children you thought had simply gone missing or weren’t picked up.”

Jocelyn reeked with the scent of a cornered animal. Amelia knew her nose for fanatical criminals, her sense of how to work a defendant, had paid off. She’d hit Jocelyn where she was most vulnerable.

Time to push hard and finish it, to make Jocelyn deliver the damning words that would resonate with any jury. “The only way to save them now is for you to tell us what you did, so we can try to find them. Otherwise you’re every bit the criminal—the monster—Oliver was.”

An agonizing acceptance slid over Jocelyn’s face, and Amelia realized she’d won. The woman wouldn’t have to be taken out by some risky sniper shot. This could end peacefully. Amelia held out her hand, the one with the snakebite bandage. “Please, just give me your gun.”

The woman who’d single-handedly led an entire baby-smuggling ring sighed heavily, her face aging another ten years in the defeated moment. “You’re right. I did become like Oliver, dirty as hell, just like my good-for-nothing family.”

Jocelyn lifted the gun—and placed the barrel into her own mouth.

Chapter 20

Eyes locked on Amelia, Hugh vaulted toward the C-17 load ramp. He heard his fellow PJs in step alongside him but he didn’t waste a second checking. He knew they would back him up as they sprinted toward the madwoman with a gun. Jocelyn might have it pointed at herself, but with Amelia still in her grip and snipers trying to get a clear shot…

He wasn’t stopping until he had Amelia far away from the line of fire.

His heart was in his throat, his pulse hammering harder as he stretched his body to the max. What if the bullet ricocheted, hitting bone? What if Jocelyn reflexively pulled away from the shot at the bitter end, common in suicide shooters. That last minute twitch could have sent a bullet into Amelia.

Into his woman.

Denial howled through him, and maybe even from his mouth. His teammates could take down Jocelyn. But Hugh had Amelia. He refused to be too late. He hadn’t been there to help Marissa, but damn it, he was here, now. He couldn’t fail her.

He dove toward Amelia, went airborne, and hooked an arm around her middle. A shot echoed. From where? Jocelyn’s gun. Blood spewed on her. On Amelia.

A bullet whizzed past his ear, coming from behind. He had to make sure she was clear of the snipers. He swept her off the ramp, twisting in midair so his body would catch the impact—

Oof. He slammed to the ground. The impact shattered through him, but for once he was grateful they only had a dirt runway rather than asphalt. He rolled her under him, shielding her as the ground shuddered beneath them.

“Amelia?” he shouted, needing to know. “Are you—?”>He didn’t want her to miss that last plane, and he didn’t want her to be here if he failed in a mission that had become everything to him. Desperation pounded through him. “I thought you said you weren’t a coward? Well, get on that plane and face your brother and his family.”

Her head snapped back toward him, her eyes blazing. “That was cruel and manipulative.”

“I’m just doing what has to be done to make sure you don’t end up dead.”

Pressing the bridge of her nose, she squeezed her eyes closed, her jaw trembling for a vulnerable minute, before she looked at him again. Pain and anger blended in her eyes, jelling into disillusionment. “You know, Hugh, maybe we’re both right here, in a sad way, not the good kind of way. Perhaps you and I are stuck in the past. You, so afraid of losing someone, it paralyzes you. And me, so afraid of being betrayed until I just can’t trust what I’m hearing.” She held up her hands. “So you win, Hugh. I’ll go. For what it’s worth, I think I could have really loved you too.”

She pivoted away, her head high as she marched toward the C-17. The setting sun bathed her tequila-colored hues, giving her a golden sheen. Relief damn near made him dizzy. His head and his heart were too wrecked to consider the consequences, but he had to believe he’d done the right thing even if it tore him apart inside.

“Dude?” a familiar voice called from just behind him, Jose “Cuervo” Jones. “You okay?”

Cuervo studied him with perceptive eyes, everyone’s buddy, always checking up on folks with their freaky weird sense of when people were about to crash. Wade “Brick” Rocha stood beside him, one of the Red Cross meal boxes in his hands and open. He shoveled down the protein bar in two bites. Must have been a long mission with no time to eat.

So was he okay? “Yeah”—no—“just tying up loose ends before I get back to work.” Was that all he had left for the rest of his life?

“Uh-huh.” Wade nodded, pulling out a sandwich. “Women don’t like it much when you issue them military orders.”