Author: Jaci Burton

Then he heard it—a slight scream, a smothered gasp. Instinct told him it was Jessie. It came from the side of the building, about twenty feet away from where he lay. Unfortunately, if he got up and made a run for it and someone happened to be leaning against the corner of the building, he’d make great target practice. Getting shot again wasn’t high on his priority list.

Then he heard a groan, followed by a loud curse, and Jessie shot out from behind the building, running toward him like her hair was on fire. Shots rang out, but she flew behind his bike, landing with a spray of gravel over both of them.

In a panic, afraid she’d been shot, Diaz returned fire, then turned to her. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, her face bruised and dirty. “I’m fine. You?”

“Took a bullet in my arm, but I’m okay.”

Her eyes widened as she reached for him. “Oh God, Diaz. Where? How bad is it?”

He shrugged her off, focusing his attention on the side of the building. “Not now. I can handle it. We need to get out of this crisis first. What’s going on back there? How many guys? Did Rex meet up with the guy you were chasing?” He pulled out his cell phone, punched in the number to send an alert to Walt. Hopefully Walt would pick up on Diaz’s GPS and send a team to their location.

“Just the one guy. Haven’t seen Rex,” she said after Diaz pocketed his cell.

“Do you have your gun?”

She shook her head. “He took it from me.”

“There’s another gun in my saddlebag if you can reach it.”

She dug her hand under his bike to get to his saddlebag. “So this guy . . . I think his name is Dave? Anyway, he ran me down and kicked me off my bike, then grabbed me and hauled me behind the building when he heard your bike coming.”

Diaz’s blood pressure rose at the visual of someone hurting her. He itched to get his hands on Dave.

“I kneed him in the nuts and gave him an elbow to the chin and came running out here.”

Diaz smiled. “Good girl.”

“He’s also contacted Rex, who’s supposed to meet him shortly.”

“Glad to hear that.” Diaz had hated losing Rex. “But first, we’ve got to get out of this open clearing. We’re sitting ducks here.” Plus, Diaz didn’t like hiding behind a tank full of gasoline. That was just asking for a fiery, explosive death. There didn’t seem to be anymore bullets flying in their direction, so Dave was probably lying low, waiting for Diaz to make the next move. He might have run off, too. Or maybe he was out of bullets. They should be so lucky.

Diaz swiveled around, spotted the gravel hills behind them.

“Let’s get away from this bike. We can use those gravel mounds as cover.”

Having taken the gun from his saddlebag, Jessie pocketed the extra ammo and nodded. “I’m ready when you are.”

Using his noninjured arm to push himself into a crouching position, he gave the signal. Jessie sprinted, and Diaz fired in continual bursts at the corner spot on the building while he was on the run. He got in front of Jessie in case any bullets came flying at them. It seemed to take forever, but Diaz knew it was only seconds until they were safely behind a tall gray mound.

They waited. Either Dave had left or wasn’t going to waste anymore ammo shooting at them.

“You need to let me see your arm,” Jessie whispered.

“It’s fine. I don’t think the bullet penetrated.” The pain was down to a dull throb now, and the bleeding seemed to have slowed. “I think the thickness of my jacket probably slowed the bullet.”

Jessie slanted a dubious look in his direction. “If you pass out on me from blood loss I’m going to kick you.”

His lips lifted. “Duly noted.”

She settled against the gravel, gun pointed toward the building. “So now what?”

“We wait.”

They didn’t have to wait long. A bike’s throaty hum echoed through the quiet.

“Rex’s coming in behind the building,” Diaz said. “I’ll bet your Dave has left his post to meet up with him. We’ll take the left side of the building, see if we can sneak up behind them. Let’s move while they’re distracted with meeting up.”

Diaz pushed off and Jessie was right with him as they made a left around the hill, staying low to the ground. Diaz motioned for Jess to stay put while he made a dash to the side of the building. If anyone was going to take a hit, it was going to be him. He made it, then signaled for Jessie, who sped to his side. They flattened themselves against the cold concrete wall of the gravel plant. Diaz listened for sounds, Rex’s or Dave’s bike, anything that would signal their location.

He looked to Jessie, who shook her head.

Dammit, they were going to have to hunt for them, which would put them out in the open and just as vulnerable as the bad guys. But they had no choice. They couldn’t just stand there and wait for Rex and Dave to come to them, as convenient as that would be.

He caught Jessie’s attention and cocked his head to the right, inching his way across the wall toward the other end of the building. Jessie followed, staying close, her gun raised and ready.

The plant was well lit with halogen lights hanging from the roof, shining a beacon over the pits and surrounding area. It was both a good and bad thing, because it would make it harder for Rex and Dave to hide from them, but also make it more difficult for Diaz and Jessie to hide under cover of darkness, too. Which meant he’d have to figure out a way to search for them without illuminating themselves under the lights like rock stars at a concert.

He paused at the corner between the side and back of the plant. Behind them was nothing but gravel. To the west were shrubs and then fence. If they pushed off and circled west, hidden behind the vegetation, they’d be out of the lighted area. They could move in darkness that way, only lit for a few seconds as they dashed off into the night.

Diaz pointed the muzzle of the gun toward the bushes. Jessie nodded and he held up three fingers, counting down to zero. He took off at a run, Jessie right on his heels.

No shots rang out as they made their way behind a thick bush. Good. If they were really lucky they hadn’t been seen. Diaz hoped Dave had told Rex they were hiding out front, and that’s where they were looking. Now they had a chance to take the advantage.

Diaz kept them low and behind the shrubbery, moving beyond it and into the nonlit part of the yard. Though flat and with nothing to hide behind, it was dark. The rain had picked up again, but at least that meant cloud cover and no moonlight.

He wished whatever machinery they used in the plant wasn’t so noisy. Didn’t they ever shut it off? A low humming noise, constant. It meant he couldn’t listen for footsteps, for whispers, for anything that would signal Rex’s whereabouts.

But the sound of a bike? Yeah, that he could hear, and did. Two of them, in fact. He spun around at the sound of one behind them, its headlight on high beam and barreling straight at them.

“Move!” he shouted at Jessie. She skirted out of the way and he pivoted, pointing his gun and firing. It missed, but gravel sprayed up and into the face of the rider, causing him to swerve and lay down the bike. Apparently not hurt, Dave leaped off the bike and took off.

Oh, no. Not this time. Diaz went after him at a dead run, caught up, and made a flying tackle.

Son of a bitch, that made his arm hurt. He pushed the pain inward, rolled Dave over, and landed a hard punch to his jaw.

Huh. Dave’s jaw must be made of glass, because he was out cold. That was easy. Diaz stood, kicked Dave over onto his belly, and cuffed him, conscious of the sound of Rex’s bike in the distance. He rose, turned, and realized Jessie wasn’t nearby.

Shit.

Rain poured down his face, obliterating his ability to see more than an arm’s length in front of him. He slogged through the mud and gravel, following the sound of Rex’s bike, seeing the headlight swerving left and right.

She was running, heading for the bushes.

With Rex barreling after her on his bike, toying with her, revving his engine then cutting it back.

Fuck!

Diaz gave it everything he had, watching in horror as Rex drew closer to a running Jessie. He was almost on top of her, his intent clear.

He was going to hit her.

Fury boiled inside him and Diaz ran harder than he ever had, closing the distance between them, those last few feet sucking up every ounce of oxygen left in his lungs. His boots sank in the mud, his entire body felt like it weighed thousands of pounds as he made his way closer to an advancing Rex.

He wasn’t going to make it in time. He stopped, raised his gun, hoping like hell he could get the shot, that it would slow Rex down before he hit her.

Just as it seemed Jessie was going to be swallowed up by Rex’s front tire, Diaz fired. Jessie took a diving leap over a huge bush. At the same moment the bullet hit Rex’s bike and Rex swerved. The bike skidded, and Rex went down. Diaz went running, leaping over the fallen bike and body tackling Rex.

Damn lucky for both of them that the rain had softened the ground. Impact had been hard enough. Diaz was up in a flash, fury over what Rex had tried to do to Jessie keeping his adrenaline pumping. He reared back and slammed his fist into Rex’s face, satisfied at the bone-crunching sound, the blood flying from Rex’s nose.

But it wasn’t enough. Not after he’d seen Jessie literally running for her life.

He heard cars approaching. The ATF, no doubt. Diaz heard shouting, but he was oblivious. Rage drove him and he continued to pummel Rex, who tried to crawl away on his belly like the snake he was. Diaz picked him up by the back of his jacket and landed another hard punch, tossing him back to the ground.

Red haze blinded him and he could think of only one thing—the look of utter terror on Jessie’s face as Rex barreled after her.

“Come on, motherfucker! It’s easy to run down a defenseless girl, isn’t it? Now get up and fight like a man.”

Rex rolled over onto his stomach, groaning, refusing to get up.

“Oh, no. You don’t get to quit that easy.” He kicked him over onto his back, lifted him by his jacket again, intending to stand him on his feet so he could beat the crap out of him.

“Diaz. Stop!”

He heard Jessie’s voice, but he was focused only on Rex, wanted him to beg for mercy. Even then, he had no intention of stopping. He wanted Rex to pay.

“Diaz. It’s over. The Feds are here.”

Jessie stepped over Rex, pushed Diaz hard in the chest. “Diaz!” He blinked, his heart jamming like crazy against his chest. He focused on Jessie, the look on her face.

“The Feds are here. Let them finish this.”

Her voice was soft, but he saw the look in her eyes. And he knew what she saw.

She saw what he’d done.

He looked down at his hands, covered in blood, then down at Rex, passed out on the ground, his face a bloody pulp. He was beating an unconscious man.

Christ. He inhaled through his nose, fighting back the bile rising in his throat. He turned, walked away from Jess, grabbed a handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe off the blood.

“I need to go find Walt, give a report,” he said.

“I’ll go with you.”

He started to object, then gave a quick nod. Work. Focus on work. That was good.

Anything but the unconscious body of the man he no doubt would have beaten to death if Jessie hadn’t stopped him.

As he’d guessed, the bullet wound wasn’t bad at all and they patched him up on scene. The medic told him he’d be sore for a couple of days, but fine.

Despite the wild gunfire, no one with the ATF had been injured. Spence and Crush had rounded up the others in Rex’s gang and held them for the agents to pick up.

Rex and his crew were now in custody. The location of the survivalist camp was still unknown, but the Feds were satisfied they had been able to arrest at least two dozen of them at the scene of the arms transaction. It was typically damned near impossible to smoke any of them out of hiding, or to get anything on them other than tax evasion. Now they had them on illegal arms dealing, and that was a big offense. As far as the government was concerned, this was a good bust.