Page 29 of Command and Control: GHOST Operative

Vincent leans back as a beam of light swings between the buildings, swiping through the darkness.

I guess that's my answer.

Vincent turns to me, his face all hard angles in theshadowy moonlight. He points two fingers indicating our new trajectory. I nod, because what the fuck else am I gonna do? I sure as shit don't know what to do in this situation.

The minute I express understanding, we’re moving again. Vincent’s steps are quick and I try to match mine to his, stretching as far as I can to come close to mimicking his long strides. When we reach the end of the building, he stops again to peek around the corner. Then we’re walking again. We repeat this all the way down the line of buildings to the edge of the complex. But instead of turning away from the property, we move deeper into it, heading in the direction of the retention pond.

I want to ask where we’re going, but my toes are freezing, my fingers hurt from holding on so tight, and I'm still on the verge of throwing up, so I just stay quiet and focus on my breathing. I really wasn't planning on doing so much cardio tonight, and I don't want to end up dead because my wheezing is echoing between the buildings.

When we reach the last building before the pond, Vincent stops again, doing a slow sweep of the area surrounding it. We’re at the opposite end from where my condo sits, but because the space is so wide open, I can see my place from here. The beam of a flashlight moves across the windows as whoever found their way to my balcony weaves through my home.

I always felt comfortable there. Was it the nicest place I've ever lived? No. But it was mine, and that made it special.

But now some scary man has ruined it for me, and I have a feeling I'm never going back there again, whichmakes me sad. Way sadder than I was when I left the house where I raised my sons.

Vincent’s hand reaches back to rest on my hip, giving it a little squeeze. The heat of his palm soaks through the thin fabric of my pajama bottoms as his thumb drags across the curve of my flesh. My throat tightens at the gesture. No one’s ever comforted me like this, and I’m surprised by it. Not just because of how much I like his soothing touch, but also because of how gently it’s offered.

Vincent loves to tell me how bad of a man he is. How dangerous. I didn't believe him before, and I sure as hell don't believe him now. But I’ll let him think he’s bad and scary all he wants if he gets me out of this. I'll agree with him all day long. Hell, I'll even pretend to be terrified if that makes him happy. I just don't want to die today, shoeless, braless, and just finally having had sex worth mentioning.

Vincent gives my hip a little pat. "Time to move, Angel Face." His voice is low, but his movements are quick, and soon I’m practically running to keep up with him as we cut across the open space. When we reach the cluster of trees and bushes opposite the one where he hid to watch me, he drags me down, tucking me low so I'm completely hidden behind the evergreen foliage but propped tight against him as he scans our surroundings.

I suck in air, trying to catch my breath. I swear on Tom Cruise’s life, I’ll do more cardio if I survive this. I’ll get a treadmill desk.

And a treadmill.

“How many men did you say were on your balcony?” Vincent’s question pulls my attention from the burning in my lungs.

“One.” My stomach drops. “Why?”

Vincent’s jaw clenches so tight it starts to tick. “Wait here.”

“What?” I grab at him as he stands. “No. You can’t leave me. What if someone finds me?”

He pauses, crouching down to press the pistol from his hand into my palm. “Aim for the head.” He stands. “Just not mine.”

11

OVERREACTIONS CAN GET MESSY

VINCENT

I STALK ACROSS the span of frozen grass separating me from Julieanne’s condo. I don't bother hiding. I’m not wasting time trying to be stealthy.

And part of me wants them to see me. To know what’s coming and understand there’s nothing they can do to stop it.

But no one even glances out the windows at the back of her unit. That tells me they don't know I'm here. It means they haven't been able to get into Julieanne’s system either. It also means they haven't done their homework and have no clue what’s about to hit them.

Dumbasses.

I only take a second to pause as I decide between starting at the bottom or starting at the top. Bottom up will make it easier for me to catch them all before they try to run. And, based on what I'm seeing, at least one of these idiots is going to try to take the coward's way out.

I reach her patio and creep across, sticking to the shadows as I take in the scene through her kitchenwindow. There's two men on this level. They’re digging through the tables in her living room, backs foolishly both turned my way. Who’s running this team? Who the fuck trained them? Watching each other's backs is the first goddamned rule of any op, and these two stooges can’t even do that.

Makes me feel less bad they're about to die. They’ve brought it on themselves.

I decide against shooting them through the window, that just seems wrong at this point. Like shooting fish in a bucket. So I go to the back sliding door, gritting my teeth when it easily opens, proving Julieanne learned fucking nothing from all this. Since I've been here before, I know just how to put pressure on the handle so it slides silently. I step into the room, watching the dipshits in front of me a few seconds longer before finally making my presence known.

I clear my throat, because anyone upstairs would mistake it as one of these assholes, but they’ll know the truth. They both spin my way, eyes going wide before they try to pull their weapons.

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