Nice pep talk, but looking at Kira’s face…I wasn’t so sure this was going to work.
***
It was time for next steps.
Reaper wanted it to be him who moved out, and yeah, he was a SEAL, but, honestly, this was my bailiwick, and he knew it.
There had only been nine guns in the vehicles I had found and shoved into the equipment duffle.
Lula had one. Reaper had the other.
“I’m taking Lula with me.”
“Why’s that?” Reaper asked.
We were lying on our stomachs in the wooded area.
“Because you need to be here protecting our group. And Lula is the only one of us who, outside of the immediate crime scene, can legally shoot anyone.”
“She’s a lawyer,” Faith said, baffled.
I glanced Faith’s way, then turned my head back to speak with Reaper.
Reaper scratched his thumb into his chin, processing.
“Lexi’s right. We can do this recon. And let the badges know what they’re walking into.”
I tapped my ear to let Reaper know I was listening to my comms. “Control tells me that FBI signed contracts with Iniquus. We’re clear to work the scene. FBI is scrambling, no DCPD, they don’t want the chatter out over the radio waves.” I held my finger in the air to indicate information was still coming into my comms. “Iniquus is sending their ambulances. The heli’s in the air.”
“Christen?” Lula asked.
I tapped my ear again and shook my head.
“Cerberus Alpha and Bravo are moving through the woods across the road. They’re ordering that any shots be life or death. They’d appreciate the intel.”
“Intel it is.” Lula tucked her gun in the back of her tuxedo pants and left the jacket with shivering Kira.
“I just went through this in Tanzania. I… this is a lot.” Kira wrapped the jacket around her shoulders with a thank you smile.
Lula and I set off for the wall to count heads and give GPS positions.
Things hadn’t changed much from the time I first observed their exterior security. The low lights along the wall up-lit the guards and kept us safer in the dark.
Suddenly, the sound of an explosion concussed through the night.
“Flashbang,” Lula said in a crouch as she ran toward the wall. “Strike Force is attacking.”
God, Striker.
My heart was hammering.
The men on the wall lifted their rifles and searched for a reason to shoot. As they turned, I saw it. “Heat vision!” I hissed for Lula and Control’s information.
Lula and I dove for the ground, rolling onto our backs to keep the enemy in line of sight.
Lula aimed her pistol between her knees, getting the closest guard in her sights. There were two that could see us.
Reaper had the second gun. I had nothing. How good of a shot was Lula? Could she get them both?
The left guard called out something indistinguishable.
Both men leveled their rifles at us.
Lula took the shot.
The left guard threw his arms in the air, then tumbled off the wall.
The other man turned his head, following his co-conspirator.
Over the wall came Voodoo, magical Malinois hero-dog extraordinaire.
I’d recognize that leap anywhere.
With open mouth and wagging tail, Voodoo gracefully pivoted, snatched up the rifle arm of the green army man, and continued his flight.
Boom!
Voodoo had the guy on the ground.
The terrorist screamed high-pitched horror screams. I scrambled to their side, grabbing up his rifle. I had zero control over Voodoo. And Ryder, his handler, was on the other side of the fifteen-foot wall.
This man’s screams weren’t the only ones.
Cerberus Tactical K9 Team had indeed arrived.
“Good boy,” I whispered as Voodoo sank his teeth in deeper.
Epilogue
Today was exquisite.
We stood under the broad limbs of an ancient oak.
Wooden white chairs circled around.
I stood in a simple green sundress beside Lula and Gator’s sisters.
Striker was across from me. Our eyes held.
This was a moment of utter peace. It was as if the Heavens had conspired that after the flashbang smoke blew away in the wind, we would be left with this amazing day with undisturbed blue sky, perfect temperatures, and butterflies dancing across the field of wildflowers.
Christen and Gator were blind to everything. Holding each other’s hands and without the prompt of the clergywoman, they recited their vows.
“Christen, would you do me the honor of loving me for the whole day?” He held her hand to his lips. As he spoke, the words whispered over her skin.
“I will make that vow to you. I will, for today, have and hold you.”
“For better, for worse?”
“Absolutely.”
“For richer, for poorer?”
“Why yes, Jean-Marie Rochambeau, I would do that.”
“In sickness or in health?”
“I will, indeed, love and honor you for the whole of today. And what’s more? Just so you know, I plan on making that vow to you every single day for the rest of my life.”
These were the exact vows that Gator and Christen offered each other after their first escape from Karl’s villainy.
Gator leaned low to drop a kiss on her nose.
Then scooped her into his brawny arms to bring her tiny frame up to kiss her lips.
There was cheering and joy. And relief.
William Davidson sat alone in the front row, looking shellshocked. His wife, London, was alive but in a drug-induced coma. No one knew
