Page 53 of Nothing to Fear

“Want to burn me!” A string of curses flowed. “I’ll show you pain.” He yanked her head viciously, ripping strands from her scalp.

Fighting wildly, she kicked the air, the wall, clawed at his arm to gain purchase. He was going to hurt her, really hurt her before he killed her.

Hot tears flooded her eyes, and everything dissolved into a watery hell.

The distinct clack of a clip sliding into a gun resounded. Her heart clutched.

Oh God. Oh God. She choked on a sob, scratching and punching at the arm locked onto her. Blinking away tears, her vision cleared.

She saw Gideon.

Then a whisper of a shot. Blood splattered the wall. The man’s fist in her hair loosened, and he hit the floor with a nauseating thud behind her.

It took a dazed second to process everything. Her pulse raced. Willow rolled to her knees, desperate to get away from the body and smell of burnt flesh, but her muscles locked. She sputtered for breath and fought the need to retch.

Gideon’s hand closed on her arm, lifting her from the floor to her feet. In the thick of the fray, he was all cool control and grim readiness, steadying her like an anchor.

A tidal wave of relief crashed over her, and she gulped back convulsive tears of gratitude. There was no time to feel anything besides the need to keep moving.

Gideon crouched beside the dead guy with partially missing skull, keeping his knees out of the bloody brain matter on the floor. After unfastening the man’s nylon belt, he yanked it off. Snagging a carabiner from the harness, his gaze stayed glued to the front doorway where smoke still poured in.

Throwing on the backpack, Willow strung together the remaining threads of her faculties. Gideon hauled her to the bedroom, wrapped the dead man’s belt around her waist and tied it in a tight knot.

Ushering her to the busted window, he hooked the carabiner on the belt. “Are you afraid of heights?”

“I’m more afraid of dying.”

His mouth cocked in a half smile, and he brushed the tears from her eyes. The exquisite sight of him ensnared her for a split second.

He grabbed the rope dangling outside, gave it a firm tug, and looped it through the carabiner. “I’m going to help you out the window and lower you to the ground.”

Swallowing a spike of alarm, she nodded. What other choice did she have?

22

Springfield, Virginia

Friday, July 5, 3:34 p.m. EDT

Gideon wrapped the rope around his forearm and lifted Willow’s legs over the jagged pieces of glass protruding from the tattered window frame, supporting her back with his other arm. Pain shredded his side where he’d been cut and his chest ached. He beat back a wince.

He was walking and talking, and Willow was alive. That was all that mattered. He’d come so close to losing her, stark fear had burned a hole through him. God, he wanted to hold her, see what kind of damage that animal had done, but they didn’t have a second to spare.

The big guy would be back. Sooner rather than later.

Instinct, training, years of experience prodded him to hunt that motherfucker down and end him, but getting Willow out safely was top priority. The merc could still get the drop on him.

She held the rope as he lowered her gradually. If she was terrified of heights, she didn’t let it show. This ordeal would’ve been enough to shell-shock anyone not used to the field, but she was resilient and stronger than he ever imagined. She was sensational.

With his leg braced against the wall below the windowsill, he let a few inches of rope glide through his palms, easing her toward the side of a dumpster. Agony ripped through his abdomen, but he gritted his teeth through the groan rising in his throat.

Once she cleared the second story, he trained his gaze on the doorway again.

Any second, the bruiser would emerge. The concussion grenades would’ve only slowed him down. The merc was big as a linebacker and quiet. Deadly quiet.

It’d been a calculated risk to stay in one location, but they’d had little choice. The passports were necessary. But a tactical team had been formed and dispatched within hours of breaking her out of the Gray Box, which meant someone had been prepared to deploy these mercs at a moment’s notice. Someone who knew exactly where to find them.

Gideon glanced out the window. Willow was less than five feet off the ground. Her light frame was an advantage, not taxing him much. The hole in his gut was enough strain.