Instinct overrode everything else. Landon lifted the gun, whirled toward the door, and yelled, “Dani, down!”
Her scream rose up in the air, but her body hit the floor. The door burst open. Two more thugs, both decked out all in black, sporting Red Brotherhood tattoos and holding semiautomatic weapons, spilled into the room. Landon lined up his sights and pulled the trigger, nailing the first right between the eyes. His body dropped to the ground with a thunk. The second lurched behind a table and flipped it over as a shield.
“Dani, get back,” Landon yelled, moving around the counter in the middle of the room.
The girl screeched again and crawled rapidly toward the far end of the island, then climbed up onto the metal shelf flanking the long counter, kicking books and bottles aside as she shook. Landon darted toward the other end of the counter and fired toward the table. The ricochet of bullets hitting wood sounded in the room. The guy behind the table hurled a wooden stool in Landon’s direction. Landon ducked out of the way. The guy popped his head up and let off a stream of gunfire that lit up the room.
Dani screamed again, covering her head with her hands. Glass shattered, exploding in the air. Landon lurched to the ground behind the counter. His body hit the cement floor with a crunch. He rolled to his back and glanced up toward the ceiling.
Some kind of fancy lab equipment with large beakers filled with different colored liquids, glass tubing, and a multitude of Bunsen burners caught his attention. It stood six feet high near the wall, only inches from the psycho with the machine gun. Shifting his gun that direction, Landon fired multiple times into the apparatus. More glass shattered, hitting the man in the side of the face, the arms, anywhere his skin was exposed. Acid—at least Landon hoped to hell it was acid—scalded his skin. He swore and stumbled back, lowering his weapon two inches. Just enough.
Landon bolted to his feet. He lifted the Glock in his hand, braced the end of the grip against his palm, lined up his shot, and fired.
The bullet pierced the man between the eyes. He hit the ground like a board.
Crossing the floor, Landon kicked the weapon away and knelt down toward the terrorist’s lifeless body, feeling for a pulse. “Dani.”
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God,” she chanted.
“Dani.” He pushed to his feet, moved to the other terrorist, and kicked his weapon away as well. “Dani, pull it together.”
Footsteps pounded in the hall again. She let out an ear-piercing scream.
Landon lifted his weapon and whipped around. Raleigh Stone rushed into the room, gun drawn, eyes wide.
“Fucking A,” Landon muttered, lowering his weapon. “Where’s Bentley?”
“On the sat phone. All the landlines are down.”
Landon moved for the door they’d dragged Olivia through, urgency pushing him forward. He nodded toward Dani, still hiding under the counter, and pushed the door open with his shoulder. “Get her somewhere safe.”
He didn’t wait for Stone’s answer. He took the steps three at a time up to the back lawn. A light breeze rushed over his cheeks when he reached the grass. The lawn was empty and dark, only a scatter of moonlight illuminating the area.
Gun in front of him, he listened. Some kind of commotion echoed from the direction of the stairs that led down to the water.
“Olivia . . .”
He raced in that direction. The wooden steps zigzagged down the hundred yards to the water. He slowed when he reached the top and looked over the edge of the cliff. Victoria Crossler was already on the beach, running for a boat moored at the dock. He lifted his gun to take a shot, but the sound of a struggle echoed up to his ears, distracting him. Landon glanced to the side. Halfway down the steps, on one of the many landings where the stairs shifted directions, Olivia wrestled with the two men who’d grabbed her.
Landon’s heart lurched into his throat. He swung his gun toward the man Olivia was fighting but couldn’t get a shot off. She was moving too much, shifting right and then left, getting in the way. If he fired, he might hit her.
His adrenaline went sky-high. He rushed down several flights, lifted the gun again, closed one eye, and tried to get a better shot. “Hold still,” he muttered. “Dammit, Livy, just hold still for two seconds.”
She turned and shoved her knee into one guy’s groin. He stumbled back and bent over. The other guy grabbed her by the hair, whipped her around, and slammed his fist into her jaw. Her head snapped back. She staggered into the railing.
Landon’s vision went red. He aimed and fired. The bullet dug into the railing inches to the left of the brute who’d hit her. The guy looked up the staircase. When he spotted Landon, his eyes flew wide, and he lifted his weapon and fired back, shoving Olivia forward as he moved.
Bullets sailed by Landon’s ears. He ducked down. The stairs curved behind a boulder, and by the time he lifted his head to look, he couldn’t see Olivia anymore. He raced down the steps, staying as low as he could. On the water, far below, a boat’s engine roared to life. Reaching the landing where Olivia had just been, Landon rounded the corner. A fist slammed into his jaw.
He stumbled back. The gun fell from his grip. The shithead who’d hit Olivia lifted his hand and nailed Landon in the jaw again. “Fucking prick.”
The salty taste of blood rushed over Landon’s tongue. The blow rang in his ears. He glanced past the big guy still coming at him and searched for Olivia. She was already down on the next landing, fighting with everything she had in her.
A fist sailed toward his face. Landon ducked away from the blow, grabbed hold of the man’s wrist, and whipped around behind him, dragging the guy’s arm with him.
The man cried out in pain. Landon jerked the man’s arm against his neck, cutting off his airflow. The man gasped, reached up with his free hand to try to pry Landon’s away. Landon only braced his feet against the wood decking and pulled tighter.
The thug kicked out. Sputtered. Landon gritted his teeth and squeezed harder. The man struggled for air. Rasped. The muscles in Landon’s arms and legs burned as he held on, not letting go. A choking sound echoed in the night air. Another gasp for air. Then the man’s muscles went lax, and he slumped in Landon’s arms.
Landon released him. The terrorist fell to the decking with a crack. He stepped over the limp body and rushed down the steps, his only thought to get to Olivia.
He hit the next switchback and spotted her ten yards away. The guy holding her drew his arm back and slapped her across the cheek with the back of his hand. She cried out in pain. Stumbled. Landon’s chest constricted. His legs moved faster. Olivia righted herself, then raised her arm quickly, slapping the flat of her hand up into the man’s balls. He grunted and doubled forward. She gripped his head in both hands, twisted it to the side, and then jammed her knee into his balls even harder, shoving the fucker back with her momentum.
He crashed into the railing. It gave with a crack. He grappled for something to hold on to and grabbed a fistful of Olivia’s hair. She screamed as his center of gravity pulled them both back toward the ledge. Fear shot Landon’s heart rate into the triple digits. He raced to catch her. The thug’s body hit the rocks and bounced, and then they both disappeared over the ledge.
No. No! “Olivia!”
Landon rushed to the landing and looked over, fear and disbelief swirling in every cell in his body. Scanning the darkness, he spotted the terrorist’s body lying on the rocks far below. Sweat broke out all over his spine as he searched for Olivia. And then he spotted her, climbing up the ledge toward him, her fingers turning white as she gripped the rocks, her body covered in dirt, twigs sticking out of her hair.
“Oh sweet Jesus. Oh God . . .” Landon skidded down the hillside. Rocks and dirt went flying. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Finally reaching her, he grabbed her as gently as he could and hauled her into his arms. She staggered into him. “I’ve got you, Livy. I’ve got y
ou. Tell me you’re okay. Talk to me, baby.”
“I’m”—her shaking hands landed against his chest—“fine. I’m fine, Landon.” Her fingers curled in the soft cotton of his shirt. “Where’s Dani?”
“She’s safe. She’s with Stone.” Trembling, he wrapped her tight in his arms, buried his face in her neck, and breathed her in, amazed and awed and so very thankful for her all over again. “God Almighty. I thought I’d lost you. When I woke up and you were gone . . .” Words clogged in his throat, and he swallowed hard. “That was dumb. So freaking dumb. What the hell were you thinking?”
Her shoulders dropped, and she relaxed against him. “I was thinking about what you’d do. I was doing the only thing I could. They can’t get her, Landon. If you’d have been in my place, you would have done the same thing.”
She was right. He’d have taken that blood sample and gotten as far from Dani and her as he could.
“What about Victoria?” she asked against him.
“She got away.”
“That means Dani isn’t safe.”
She was worried about Dani right now? This woman never stopped surprising him. Even now. “Don’t worry about Dani. Dani will be fine. It’s you I’m . . .” A lump formed in his throat. His eyes slid closed, and he held her tighter, not wanting to let her go, even an inch. “Don’t ever make me do that again. I can’t make that choice.”
“You didn’t have a choice to make.”
His heart squeezed so hard, a swift shot of pain radiated all through his chest. He would never be able to forget that moment. Having to choose Dani over her. Knowing she was right—that it was the only thing he could have done.
He turned his head and pressed his lips against her temple.
Her muscles tensed against him, and she hissed in a pained breath. Easing back, he looked down, and a new sort of panic spread through him.
Her face was smeared with blood. Her T-shirt and hands were also stained red. Blood was even matted in her hair.
“You’re bleeding.” Frantic now, he checked to see where it was coming from. There was so much. “Shit, you’re bleeding.”
She pressed a hand against the side of her head and cringed. “I think I hit a rock.”
A quick look in the moonlight confirmed she had a two-inch gash across her skull. Blood poured down her skin.
Tugging off his T-shirt, he pressed it to the wound and placed her hand over the cotton. “Hold this here.”
He swept her up into his arms. Holding his shirt against the wound, she laid her other hand on his chest as he jostled her against him and picked his way back to the stairs. “I’m fine, Landon.”
“You’re not fine. Don’t freakin’ argue with me this time. You need stitches.”
They made it to the stairs. He shifted her higher in his arms and started climbing.
Against him, Olivia muttered, “You came after me.”
“I’ll always come after you.”
She smiled and leaned her forehead against his scruffy cheek. “I like that.” Drawing in a deep breath, she exhaled softly and said, “I really, really like that.”
So did he, so much more than he ever thought he could. “You didn’t need me, though. You kicked that guy’s ass.”
A smile pulled at her mouth. “I did, didn’t I?”
“Where’d you learn that move? You looked like a street fighter.”
“Mick taught me.”
Hedley. When they’d been in Italy. Landon was going to kiss the guy the next time he saw him.
He reached the top of the steps, and his feet stilled when he took in the scene. A team of men and women he immediately recognized as DIA agents were swarming the house.
“What’s wrong?” Olivia asked, lifting her head.
Slowly, he set her on her feet. “I don’t know. Keep that shirt pressed to your head.” He reached for her hand. “And stay close to me.”
They crossed the yard together and moved up the porch. Bright light blinded him as he stepped into the house. He blinked several times. A man in slacks and a dress shirt standing in the large kitchen turned in his direction. Recognition passed over his dark features. “Miller.”
“Reagan.” Landon had gone through training with Paul Reagan. He, like Landon, usually worked alone. So the fact he was here now signaled something big was going down.
A woman—one Landon had never met—also dressed in slacks, stepped around Paul Reagan and moved toward Olivia. “I’m Kristin Sommers. Ms. Wolfe, it looks like you’re a little banged up. I’ll need you to come with me.”
Sommers tried to pull Olivia away, but Landon held on firm to her hand. “She’s not going anywhere.”
Sommers glanced toward Reagan. Unspoken words passed between them. Reagan pulled out his cell phone and started speaking rapidly.
Still holding the T-shirt to her head, Olivia’s eyes grew wide as she looked from the newcomers back to Landon. Her hand tightened around his. “Landon, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Just don’t say any—”
“Miller.” Landon’s head came around when he recognized the voice to his right. His CO at the DIA, Luke Neuhaus, stepped into the room and leveled him with one hard, bone-chilling look. “Let the girl go. That’s an order. It’s time we had a few words.”
Landon’s stomach twisted into a knot as he stood outside the door to Dani’s lab hours later.
Guilt pushed at him from every angle. Guilt that he wasn’t with Olivia at the hospital right this minute. Guilt that he’d had to pick Dani over her when those terrorists had been holding her. Guilt that he was about to ruin Dani’s life all over again.
He drew in a deep breath, told himself to stop being a pussy, and pushed the door open.
The DIA had cleared out the bodies, and someone had already cleaned up the mess. He’d been surprised when they’d told him Dani was down here—the last place he expected her to be holed up was in the same room where she’d almost been killed—but her research had always calmed her. After her parents had died, it was the one thing that had kept her focused.
She was sitting at the counter on the far side of the room, using some kind of pipette to transfer liquid in a test tube to a slide. When she didn’t immediately look his way, he cleared his throat and waited.
Slowly, her head came around, and she glanced over her shoulder. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
Her eyes were still a little bit wild, but her hands were no longer shaking. A good sign, he decided.
He moved farther into the room. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“I’m not hard to find.” She placed the slide on the microscope and leaned over the eyepiece to take a look. “Did they catch her?”
Her mother. Landon had been shocked when he’d walked out onto that lawn and seen the DIA swarming the house. Then surprised when Neuhaus had informed him Ryder had been the one to call and alert him to the fact Dani was still alive and that her mother, known terrorist organizer Annabelle Cabrero, was really Victoria Crossler and that she was one of the FBI’s most wanted.
“No.”
Dani lifted her head from the microscope, closed her eyes, and exhaled a long breath.
“They’ll find her, Dani.”
“Yeah. But not today.”
No. And that’s why he was here.
He tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. The fresh T-shirt he’d grabbed before his heart-to-heart with Neuhaus brushed against his belly. “We need to talk.”
She moved the slide to the counter and placed a new one on the microscope. “No, we don’t. It won’t happen again. I promise.”
For a second, confusion hit, and then he realized she was talking about the way she’d tried to kiss him in his bedroom.
That guilt came back full force. Not for what had happened
to her parents, but because he couldn’t be what she needed. And he never should have tried.
“Dani.” He took a step forward. “You’re not safe here. I can’t protect you anymore.”
Slowly, she turned to face him, and he saw the pain brewing in her sad blue eyes. But for the first time in almost two years, he knew the pain wasn’t his fault, and he wasn’t willing to take it on as if it were.
He couldn’t keep living in the past. He couldn’t keep blaming himself for things that couldn’t be changed. As Olivia had told him that night in Italy when she’d mesmerized him with the depth of her ability to forgive, it didn’t matter what he’d done. All that mattered was what he did now.
“Why not?” she asked. “Where are you going?”
That knot twisted tighter in Landon’s gut, and his COs words from their meeting echoed in his head. “You knew what you were giving up when you signed on with the DIA. You know we don’t do normal. If you care about Wolfe at all, the humane thing to do is to let her go without a fight. The government invested a lot in you, Miller. It’s not about to forget.”
Pain lanced his chest. His was not the kind of job a person simply walked away from. He’d known that going in. And it wasn’t worth it to try if it meant putting Olivia in danger.
“I’m heading back to the DIA next week. I won’t be around to help you. It’s time you—no, it’s time we both let go of the past and moved on.”
“I . . . I don’t know how to do that,” she whispered.
“The first step is letting others help you. I’ve arranged a deal for you. If you agree to hand over your father’s notes on the formula for the antidote, the DIA will put you in protective custody. You can start over with a new name, a new identity, in a brand-new place where your mother will never find you.”
“I . . .” Surprise filled her damp eyes, and she glanced around the lab. “I don’t know if I can do that. I can’t leave my research.”
“Do you want to live?” he asked. Her gaze shot back to his. “Because that’s what this is about. If you try to run again, if you try to hide, I won’t be there to help you. And you won’t just have your mother to worry about. The DIA will track you down. They’ll find you and manipulate you, and eventually use you for your science. If you agree to witness protection, you call the shots. The DIA can’t control you. You can start over with a new identity, a new purpose, new research.”