Radio went silent. They were all preparing for the worst. No one on his team doubted his gut, as ridiculous as it might sound. It was just another reason he fit in so well with his teammates.
“What you feeling, man?” Edge murmured from his place on Eden’s other side. True to Edge’s nature, he never hesitated. He was always prepared for anything. He already had a gun pulled and was reaching for the other from the opposite shoulder harness.
“It’s wrong,” Swanny muttered. “It’s all goddamn wrong.”
“Swanny?” Eden whispered.
He turned to Eden, expecting anger or even outrage that he’d pulled the plug on what was a very important night for her, but all he saw were eyes wide with fear. Whether she was conscious of it or not, she was gripping both his and Edge’s hands, her knuckles as white as the color in her face.
“What’s wrong? What should I do? Tell me so I don’t get in the way.”
He admired her calm when she had to be scared to death. Swanny knew he wasn’t exactly a pillar of reassurance at the moment, his features locked in stone and examining every single car, person, business as they barreled by.
He carefully squeezed her hand and then reluctantly let it go. He needed both hands, not just one.
“You stay behind me at all times,” Swanny said as calmly as he was able when his insides were screaming that Eden was in danger. “If for whatever reason you can’t get to me, you stick to Edge. He’ll protect you. Do not, and I repeat, do not present an open target. If you can’t take cover behind me or Edge, then you hit the ground behind the vehicle.
“This car has bulletproof glass and a reinforced steel frame. It will withstand an impact that would demolish most other cars. You have your seat belt on?”
She nodded, her eyes still wide.
“Good girl. Now try to keep calm so I can get you back to safety.”
No sooner had the words escaped his mouth when the world simply exploded around them. The front end of the car lifted, nearly flipping it over backward before slamming back to the road, fire and smoke billowing from the front.
The driver’s head was lolled to the side and Swanny reached up to check for a pulse, all the while gathering Eden to his side in preparation for escape.
“What the fuck?” Edge yelled hoarsely. “That was a fucking RPG!”
“Driver’s dead,” Swanny said grimly. “Everyone out on my side! The shot came from the right. Eden, as soon as I pull you out, you hit the street and don’t move until you’re told. Nathan and Joe will cover you.”
“Swanny, you’re bleeding,” Eden said, a hitch in her voice. “And where are you going?”
“I’m going after the motherfucker who attacked us.”
“I’ve got your six,” Edge said.
“One, two, three, go go go!” Swanny urged, kicking open the damaged back door and pulling Eden to the street, shoving her down roughly so she didn’t present a target.
Nathan, Joe and Skylar ran up, guns drawn, cursing a blue streak.
“Cover Eden,” Swanny barked. “Edge and I are going after this fucker. Do not let anything happen to her.”
“We won’t, man,” Nathan said softly. “I’ve been in your shoes. I know how it feels. We’ll take care of your girl.”
Swanny shot him a look of gratitude and then ran down the street, his tux disheveled and blood-smeared. With the way people ducked and ran he must have looked like an angel of wrath, bent on the destruction of everything in his line of sight.
Mentally he went over those first moments when the world had gone all to hell. The driver had suffered a direct hit but the shot had come from the right side, not the left. And why the driver? The assassin could have just as easily targeted the backseat and they might or might not have survived. The car was reinforced, and for the sole purpose of protection, but not many vehicles outside the military could withstand a direct hit from a rocket-propelled grenade.
Edge pounded the pavement behind him, guns drawn. Already in the distance sirens could be heard, and Swanny knew they had one giant clusterfuck on their hands.
“Son of a bitch!” Swanny swore as he skidded to a stop.
Edge came to an abrupt halt beside him and the two stared down at the discarded AT-4. An older model, not the recoilless version found in more recent editions. Swanny glanced quickly around, taking in the disturbance in the soil, then snapped his attention back to Edge.
“Fuck. The French police are going to be all over this. You got anything on you to do a check for prints?” Swanny asked.
Edge grimly nodded. “They don’t call me Mr. Prepared for the Worst for nothing.”