Just One Touch (Slow Burn #5)(5)

"Hurry, before they come! The keys are there. Go!"

She shook her head even as more tears trickled down her face.

"God damn it, get out of here! I have backup coming and I still have my gun. Someone will be here for me in a few minutes. For God's sake move!"

For the first time, hope flickered on her face even as shock registered in her eyes. He started to shove himself upward when he found himself flattened by her entire body as the sound of more bullets punched a dozen holes into the side of his SUV.

Her eyes were wide, a swirling vortex of pain, grief and abject terror. He felt her intense stare to the bone, the weight of her stare drawing him straight into its turbulent depths. There wasn't a single part of her that wasn't pleading with him, and when she spoke, he flinched at the anguish so thick in her every word.

"You have to hide. They can't know of what I did. No one can. Never tell anyone about me. Please," she begged, wrapping her tiny hands around his, lifting them and pressing them to her chest. He felt the erratic beat of her heart against his knuckles and then registered the fact that she was shaking violently.



       
         
       
        

He didn't dare draw attention to the fact that the pool of blood he was still lying in would be a dead giveaway or she'd completely fall apart. As it was she was only holding on by the thinnest thread. Letting go of her hands, losing her touch left him feeling suddenly bereft and hollow, like a part of him had died. But he pushed her toward his vehicle anyway, his tone purposely harsh and commanding as he pinned her with his most forceful and authoritative stare.

"Go while you can, damn it. I said someone will be here for me any minute now. Don't you dare let those fuckers get their hands on you."

God, he hoped he wasn't lying to her about his back up. He'd managed to activate the "oh shit" button, as his teammate Eliza had named the transponder they all carried with them. He wasn't far from headquarters. Hell, someone should be on the scene already.

"For fuck's sake listen to me" he bellowed. "I don't know who the hell you are, lady, or what the hell you did, but I'm not about to let someone who just saved my life get her ass killed instead."

She scrambled up, keeping her head low, and slithered between the door and the interior. She turned and looked one last time at Isaac and he could swear she was pleading with him for forgiveness. The door slammed behind her and the engine cranked. He winced when the SUV lurched forward, stopping then going, the brakes screaming in protest.

Well, fuck. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to send her away. It didn't appear that she even knew how to drive. Hell, she didn't look old enough to be driving. He ground his teeth in frustration over his inability to provide her with the protection she so desperately needed and just prayed he'd made the right decision.

Testing his body's responses, he rolled to his stomach and then belly-crawled around the front of the remaining vehicle, his knuckles white from his fingers being wrapped so tightly around his gun. He leaned heavily against the grill of the car and waited, one hand still rubbing his chest in disbelief.

"Isaac," a low, distant voice called. "Sitrep."

Isaac blew out his breath in relief when Zeke, one of the newer DSS recruits, announced his arrival.

"You got backup?" Isaac said in a voice just loud enough to carry.

"Dex is with me. What's going on, man?"

"Shooters. Didn't get a bead on their location, but they weren't close when they first shot. No idea if they're still on scene or if they're closing in. Watch yourselves, and I hope to fuck you're packing some serious heat."

He heard Dex snort and took that as an affirmative.

"You take a hit?" Zeke demanded.

Isaac opened his mouth and them promptly shut it again. How the fuck did he answer that question? Yeah, he'd taken one hell of a hit. He should be on his way to the morgue to get a toe tag, but it was as if the wound had never happened. As if his heart and lungs hadn't taken a mortal blow. How to explain that to his partners? 

"No time for questions. I'll explain later. Get me the fuck clear. Just don't get your asses shot."

"Not in the game plan, my man," Dex retorted. Then he paused a second. "You need a medic?"

"No. Just wheels."

"Shadow is on scene now and is scouting for the shooters. If they're still here, he'll take care of it," Dex said.

That much was true. Shadow came by his code name because he was just that. A shadow that no one could detect. No one would ever know he was on them until it was too late.