A View to a Thrill (Masters and Mercenaries Book 7) (19 page)

There was another volley of gunfire and it was only chance that had Chelsea turn to see a man creeping up behind Jesse. He stepped out of the dingy hallway and leveled his pistol at Jesse’s head.

“Jesse!” Chelsea screamed.

In a single move, Jesse flipped his body back, hitting the man behind him squarely in the midsection. The man hit his ass with a groan as his gun clattered to the concrete, but he was seemingly well trained because he didn’t sit back and take stock. He kicked out and caught Jesse in the back, sending him flying forward where he banged against the bricks of the planter. He held on to his gun, but the man behind him wrapped a beefy arm around Jesse’s neck and tightened it.

“Shit,” Simon cursed. “Chelsea, you have to run if you get the chance. Run and hide and wait for Tag. Do you understand me?”

She nodded because she totally understood the words. The good news was he didn’t ask her if she agreed, nor did he ask if she intended to comply. Her answer to both would have been a hearty no.

Jesse was turning a frightening shade of red, but he was fighting. The man who had him in a headlock started to drag him upright. His big chest would be a massive target for the bad guys to play with.

Chelsea tried to line up a shot, but they were tangled together.

Simon took a deep breath and stepped out of his protection.

The world was filled with gunshots again, but Simon was the target now.

* * * *

He was going to leave his hand imprint on that gorgeous ass of hers. No question about it. She would live forever with his mark on her ass.

If he lived, and that was suddenly a big if. He’d already had a bullet burn against his bicep. He could still move the damn thing, but the pain made his eyes almost cross. He was certain it was just a graze, but it hurt. There wasn’t time to think about it though. They were pinned down and out of time.

Simon glanced to his right and saw that Jesse was playing dirty and very likely going into a PTSD-crazed state that would cause him no end of trouble. Jesse’s eyes had gone wild and a little glassy as he fought his attacker. He’d dropped his SIG as if he didn’t even remember he had it anymore. He managed to get his head down far enough that he could sink his teeth into his attackers forearm. There was a loud scream because Jesse wasn’t giving the bloke a little nip. Blood immediately began to flow as Jesse settled in like a pit bull who wouldn’t give up a nice treat.

Fuck. He had to keep the others off his partner because Jesse couldn’t bloody well protect himself when he was in this state. He would think only of killing the people around him because in his rage-addled brain, they all became his former captors. Eve had described it to Simon as Jesse being stuck in a waking nightmare. He really thought he was back in Iraq, fighting desperately for his life, and his senses became overwhelmed with the vision. He wouldn’t be able to see straight or think straight until someone knocked him out or managed to talk him down. He was fairly certain there wouldn’t be a lot of time to talk him down.

Simon felt a bullet burn past his left shoulder and dropped to one knee, aiming where the bullet had come from. Breathing past the pain, he reacted on pure ingrained instinct. He popped two quick shots and managed to take out his attacker with a direct chest hit.

How many more?

He ran until he was behind the front of Jesse’s Jeep. The remaining attackers seemed to be huddled behind their SUV.

How many bodies had he counted? There had been four that came out of the SUV, but they must have come from somewhere else, too, since there had been a fifth man who tried to sneak around to take them out from the side.

The parking lot fell silent, only the sounds of Jesse and his attacker fighting. Simon looked over and Jesse had blood dripping from his mouth, but he managed to get the man off him. It looked like he spat a chunk of arm out. Simon was going to have to talk to him about that. Very unsanitary. Jesse punched out, catching the taller man on the jaw and putting him to the floor.

Simon laid out a line of suppressive fire just as one of the remaining men started to take a shot at Jesse’s back.

Return fire hit the Jeep and just inches away from Simon’s head. He had to pray they didn’t call in reinforcements. He was just about spent. His extra clip was in his go bag. What the hell was he going to do? He prayed Chelsea had run.

And then he saw him. Six foot five, with a square jaw that could have been cut from granite. Ian Taggart was dressed in black sweat pants and a black T-shirt, stalking his prey from behind. Simon couldn’t see him clearly, but there was no mistaking that jawline. He was wearing a ball cap that covered the majority of his face as he moved more silently than any big man should. He popped a quick round into the man who had tried to kill Jesse and then faded back behind the opposite wall.

A deep wave of relief sank into Simon’s system. The lads were here. If Ian was here then so were Jake and Li and Alex. Adam would be somewhere close, working his mojo to keep the police off them.

There was one last pop and then the lot fell utterly silent except for the sound of Jesse pounding on his victim. Simon took a look around and realized every single human who had tried to take them down was dead on the ground. Tag was going to have his ass, but he was glad for the save.

Now he just had to save Jesse from himself. He got to his feet. He needed to get control of his partner before Tag and the team came out. They were likely doing a sweep to make sure they were completely safe. If he could spare Jesse the rest of the team seeing him like this, he would. He also had no idea what Tag would do if he thought Jesse was threatening the rest of the team. It was up to him to fix this. He’d fucked up and gotten them into this situation in the first place. Jesse should be waking up next to Phoebe and worrying about breakfast, not fighting demons only he could see.

“Hey, partner, it’s time to come back to earth. Listen to the sound of my voice.” He kept his distance and didn’t holster his gun, but he wasn’t pointing it either. There had only been the one time he’d been almost certain he would have to put a bullet in Jesse. He never wanted to come that close again. “The rest of the team is here and we’re safe. Time isn’t on our side. Adam can only keep the police at bay for so long. We need to go.”

Jesse straddled the other, his fist moving in a rhythmic fashion, and he was speaking under his breath. The same words over and over again. Farsi. He was saying something in Farsi each time he planted his fist in the man’s face.

The dead man’s face. There was no way that bloke got off the cement again without the aid of a body bag. Jesse’s T-shirt was covered in blood.

“Come on, listen to this accent, brother. You know me, Jesse. It’s Simon and it’s time for you to stop. He’s dead. You did your job. Now come back to reality and we’ll collect Chelsea and get out of here.”

Jesse’s eyes came up as a man in dark pants and a black jacket stepped out from the hallway that led to the office.

“Stand down,” the man said. He was built like a brick shithouse and armed to the teeth. Where the hell had Tag gone? “Weston, I don’t want to hurt the kid, but I have my orders. I’ll put him down if I need to. Get him to back off now.”

Jesse got to his feet and turned on the new guy. Something was off. Something wasn’t right.

“Jesse? Jesse? Can you come back?” Chelsea stepped out from behind the wall.

“You’re supposed to be gone,” Simon hissed as the new guy got a good look at Chelsea.

He touched his earpiece and Simon heard him speaking. “Target acquired. Do I have a go?”

This guy was from a different fucking team. This man was military where the others had behaved like hired thugs. Simon looked around and spotted two snipers on the roof. Fucking hell.

A “go” likely meant to put down everyone but his target. Where the hell had Taggart gotten to and why hadn’t his team swooped in yet?

Simon held his position, praying no one was coming up on his back. He was fucked and hard if Tag didn’t show his bloody face. And he had to deal with the fact that Chelsea was walking toward the crazy killer. She stepped toward Jesse, who had stopped when he heard her voice.

“Chelsea, you can’t be close to him when he gets this way. Get behind me now. He will kill you. He’ll kill anyone who gets close to him.” Pain and nausea threatened to take him out. His arm was killing him, but he kept up a two-fisted hold on the handle. He just wasn’t sure who he would have to shoot, the new guy or Jesse.

She just kept walking. “No, he won’t. There was a woman with him in that prison. She was the only woman there, and I think he cared about her. He can hear that I’m female. Jesse, it’s Chelsea and you need to help me. I need you. Please, Jesse.”

Jesse looked back down at the body next to him and kicked it once and then again. He started speaking in Farsi again.

“He’s too far gone, ma’am. Please step back,” the new guy said. “I’m required to take you in and get rid of any impediments to doing so. Step back. I don’t want you in my line of fire.”

“Step back right now, Chelsea.” Simon took a step forward and Jesse growled his way.

Chelsea put the gun down and held her hands up. She ignored everyone except Jesse. “Jesse, I’m in danger. Please help me.” Her voice was softer than he’d ever heard it before. Was she crying? “Please. I don’t want them to kill you. Please, help me.”

Jesse stopped and for the first time since the fight had started, his eyes seemed to clear. “Chelsea?”

She sighed and nodded. “Yeah. Hey, I think you should come back here with me and Simon. You have totally killed that dude. He’s like dead five times over. Come back here with us because we have bigger problems.”

Jesse shook his head. “What the fuck happened?”

“Stand down, soldier.” The new guy suddenly had a friend and they both advanced military style, gaining ground while keeping the target in sight. “Drop the weapon, Weston. I don’t want to have to explain shooting your ass.”

They were surrounded and he had no idea by whom. He dropped the weapon and reached for Chelsea’s hand, trying to pull her behind him.

“You guys are pussies. We need to move and now,” a voice from behind him said. “You have your orders. Move in.”

Chelsea looked over his shoulder. “Holy shit. That is not possible. The universe can’t be that mean.”

Simon turned, expecting to see something terrible coming his way. The big blond man was a welcome relief. “Tag. Thank god.”

Taggart stopped in front of him. He was carrying what looked like a rifle. “How the hell do you know my name?”

Simon felt his eyes widen as he realized his mistake. This was Ian Taggart but at least ten years younger, maybe fifteen. “What the hell?”

“Doesn’t matter. The boss wants the girl and I always follow orders.” His face was unlined but grim as he lifted the rifle and fired. Simon heard Chelsea scream and felt the dart decompress, flooding his body with what he hoped was some form of tranquilizer. Otherwise, it was all over.

He fell to his knees, pain flaring. He turned and saw Jesse had taken one to the chest, too.

Chelsea was on her knees, trying to ease him down. “Don’t you dare die on me, Weston.”

Her face was the last thing Simon saw before the world went black.

Chapter Nine

Chelsea turned and looked at the man Simon had obviously mistaken for Ian. He was practically a dead ringer for her brother-in-law, from his perfectly square jaw to chilly blue eyes, to that deadpan expression that let her know he really couldn’t care less that he might have killed a man. “Who the hell are you?”

The big man simply turned, touching a device in his ear. “Target acquired. We have two down. Yeah. Leave ’em or bring ’em in?”

She looked down at Simon even as three other men moved in, securing the perimeter. God, she’d been around military men long enough to know what they were doing. She put a hand on Simon’s chest and sighed when she felt it moving up and down. She pulled the dart free and tossed it aside. He needed to wake up and get moving because she needed him. She wasn’t about to leave him behind in a dirty motel parking lot to be found by the police and stuffed in a jail cell. The Collective could get to him there.

Or this group. She was so confused. The only thing that mattered was Simon opening his eyes again.

“Come on, big guy.” She tugged at the lapels of his ruined jacket. It was dark but she could tell his blood was soaking one side. Tears threatened. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t. “Wake up. Simon, I need you to wake up. Please. Please.”

“Get the luggage, boys. We’re moving out.” Fake Ian did something very military with his hand, twisting it in one of those gestures only people who served time in some hellhole understood, and the others got a move on.

“Ma’am, I need to take him.” A massive hunk of flesh stood over her. Like his brethren, he was all in black, but he’d holstered his weapon.

They thought she was soft, did they? Jesse’s gun was close to her knee. She picked it up in a flash. She had no idea where they intended to move his body, and she was the only one standing between Simon and whatever they were going to do to him. She wouldn’t let him go without a fight. She pointed that SIG right at his gorgeous face. Did the US military not have unattractive men in it? Couldn’t they find a couple of ugly dudes for her to shoot?