Page 2 of Unseen Danger

She’d told Phoenix she could handle this assignment, even though there might be triggers around. She was in good shape. Or at least she had been, before the assassin nearly blew up her best friend in front of her eyes.

Seemed like that incident shouldn’t be connected to the reason for her PTSD. But somehow it was. Or maybe something else was bothering her now. Something she didn’t dare think about.

She leaned into the bar across the door. Her nerves were—

Pops halted her movement.

Not gunshots, more like—pyrotechnics?

She breathed again as the sputtering and popping continued.

Boom.

The explosion shook the floor under her feet. No way was that normal concert pyrotechnics.

She spun back as screams filled the air like the death cry of the music that suddenly choked to a halt.

“With me!” She shouted the command to Al as she sprinted toward the opening that led onstage.

The big bodyguard she’d just seen ran at her.

Her heart leaped into her throat. She lurched to the side.

“D1 this is D2, explosion onstage.” The guy barked into coms, his voice hitting her ear as he jogged past her.

D-Chop hunkered close to the bodyguard, nearly tucked into his side.

Her heart dropped back into place. Of course, the bodyguard hadn’t been charging at her. He was protecting D-Chop.

“Package clear, moving to safe zone.”

She glanced after them as the bodyguard and D-Chop disappeared offstage, probably headed to the dressing room.

“D2, negative.” A deeper voice came across coms. “Go for evac.”

“Roger, D1.”

She could barely hear the radio chatter over the screams and shouts from the arena that were nearly as deafening as the music had been seconds before.

There was another noise, too. A hissing sound she couldn’t identify.

She stepped out onstage, her hand going toward the Sig Sauer pistol in her hip holster.

Chaos rippled through the audience below as people rushed for the exits, a mob probably taking down others in their panic.

A scream much closer yanked her attention to the right. At the other side of the massive stage, orange flames lit a man on fire.

Nevaeh sprinted across the stage, dropping Al’s leash as she ripped off her windbreaker.

She ran at the screaming man, the fire consuming his back as he stumbled.

“Drop! Drop and roll!” She yelled the directions, and he leaned forward like he was going to lower to his knees.

Not fast enough.

She launched herself the remaining four feet, jacket outstretched, and tackled him to the ground.

Two

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