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No Rules(107)

By:Starr Ambrose


“Careful,” Donovan warned again. “Don’t slip and fall.”

She shot him an irritated look. “Thanks for the helpful advice,” she began, then stopped talking. He watched her intently, his expression not nearly as solicitous as his words. He looked tense. With dawning understanding, she glanced at the others. They stood perfectly still, but she recognized the tension in each stance and saw the alertness in each face as they watched her. They looked ready, like runners poised for a race, looking at her for the signal to start.

They were waiting for her signal, and she was so dense she’d almost missed it. They were fighters, trained in hand-to-hand combat, where their captors most likely were not. They would not go meekly to their deaths. But she had no training, and she was their responsibility, a member of their team with a gun at her back. Except that gun was below her now, and the man holding it was occupied climbing the steep stairs to the desert above.

Don’t slip and fall…

Crawling over the lip of the entrance, she hung her head and glanced between her legs. Evan’s head was visible, just emerging from the hole. It was now or never. She put one knee on firm desert sand, ready to climb to her feet, then pulled the other leg up—and kicked backward as hard as she could.

Her hiking boot made direct contact with the side of Evan’s face. She couldn’t see it all, but knew the hard rubber heel had caught the edge of his eye socket, while the ball of her foot smashed his mouth. His head jerked sideways and his arms flailed for balance, but with no handholds, he fell backward down the stairs into the dark tunnel.

The desert exploded with action. Bodies ducked, swung, kicked, and rolled as the Omega team turned on their stunned captors. Jess crawled onto the sand, barely aware of the grunts, thuds, and cries of pain. She kept her anxious gaze fastened on Donovan as he dropped and lunged, taking Mahmood down to the ground with him. He came up holding the automatic rifle, using the butt end to deliver a sharp clip to Mahmood’s head as he tried to rise. The man fell without a sound.

Donovan whirled, pointing the gun at her. “Jess, move.”

She hesitated for no more than a second, but it was enough. From below the surface, Evan reached up and wrapped strong fingers around her ankle, pulling her toward him. She wiggled and clawed at the sand, but slid several inches closer to him while uselessly yelling, “No! No!”

Donovan didn’t bother yelling. He rushed forward, lifted the gun, and released a blast of bullets into the opening of the tunnel.

Gunfire bounced off the canyon walls. As the echoes died, Evan’s hand slipped from her ankle and his body collapsed down the stairs with a slither and thud. She scurried away, suddenly freaked out by the image of a hand rising from the ancient tomb, more real than any three-thousand-year-old mummy. Donovan stepped close to the edge and lifted one of the lanterns, taking his time as he peered into the dark stairway. Finally satisfied, he set the lantern on the sand and walked toward her.

“Are you okay?” He stooped beside her as she sat up, raising her chin to the light and running his finger gently over her cheek. “You did great, Jess.” He smiled.

She had. She looked around, noting Kyle, Avery, and Mitch, now free of their cuffs, busily securing their prisoners. Judging by the muttered curses and Alicia’s pitiful cries, they weren’t careful about it, either. She looked back at the hole in the ground, then at Donovan. “Is he dead?”

“Yes.”

She nodded, wondering if she was supposed to feel sorry about that. To mourn for the man who had been her father’s friend and coworker for years before turning against him for money. Before nearly executing her and the entire Omega team. She couldn’t find an ounce of pity within her. “Good,” she muttered, then closed her eyes and shuddered with revulsion.

Donovan laid the gun aside and sat beside her, pulling her into his lap. She wanted to ask him why he did that. The others were busy barking orders at their prisoners, calling the police, giving directions to Mr. Atallah’s shop, and demanding guards for the tomb. She was fine, and he had things to do.

But she wasn’t fine. Her body had started trembling as if from a bone-deep cold, and she couldn’t make it stop. To her embarrassment, two tears streaked down her cheeks. She swiped at them, saying, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Adrenaline,” he said, stroking her hair. “Shock. You came close to being killed, Jess, and you fought back with both your wits and your body. That takes a toll.”

Not on him, apparently, and not on the others. But she wasn’t really a member of Omega, and he was right, cheating death and causing someone else to die had an effect. Laying her head against his shoulder, she sniffled quietly while he rocked her and waited for the tears and the shaking to stop.