Page 66 of Fast Kill

Logan swept past his two teammates toward the corner of two intersecting walls that marked the start of the hallway. Movement caught his peripheral vision.

He swung the barrel of his rifle toward it and fired at the man trying to sneak out of a doorway a dozen yards away. Logan kept moving, footsteps behind him marking his other teammates’ advance.

More movement, up ahead to the left.

Logan angled his body to neutralize the threat, fired at the same time one of his other teammates did. His adrenaline was pumping at full strength now but he didn’t let it cloud his brain or reflexes, all his concentration focused on the remaining doorways in the hall.

The first door on the right was partially open when he reached it. With a teammate standing directly behind him, Logan peered through the gap in the door.

The far side of the room was empty. He shifted to the left to lean closer to the door while whoever was behind him got ready to kick the door in.

Logan nodded.

The door flew open and a shooter stood in the hidden corner with a rifle. He fired at the same time Logan did. A siminution round hit Logan dead center in the chest.

Shit.

But at least the other shooter was down now.

“Clear,” Logan muttered, pissed off at himself.

“You can’t say that, because in real life you’d be bleeding out at the moment from my armor-piercing round,” a dry voice said from across the darkened room.

Logan recognized it instantly. “Taggart?” He’d thought their commander was still up on the catwalk.

“All clear—building’s secure,” Easton called out from somewhere down the far end of the hall.

The lights came back on. Logan shut his eyes to protect his retinas and shoved his NVGs back up on the helmet mount. In the corner stood the team commander, a big yellow splatter mark on the left side of his chest. “Not bad,” he remarked. “You got me.” Then a smug grin curved his mouth. “But I got you too.”

Logan grunted and limped out of the room. His knee was not happy about being put through its paces so soon. The rest of the team was coming toward him.

Taggart fell in step with him. “How’s the knee?”

“Good.” It hurt like a fucking mother right now. But his pride hurt more. And getting shot in the chest even with a simunition round was a sobering reminder that he always had to get the first shot.

Hamilton walked up to him and clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, hopalong. Time for a shower and a beer. First round’s on me.”

“Oh, I…can’t.”

Those steel-gray eyes swung his way. “No? Got a hot date or something?”

“Nah, it’s—”

“Hell yeah, he does.”

Logan sighed at the sound of Zaid’s New Jersey accent coming from behind him.

“Really? So hot you can’t even come for one beer?” Hamilton asked.

“Yeah, I’ll come for one round. Maybe two.” And then he was getting his ass over to Taylor’s as fast as he could. It had been less than seven hours since he’d last seen her, but he missed her already and wanted to make sure she was okay. Among other more pleasurable things he planned to do that made him hard just thinking about.

She was dealing with a hell of a lot of personal stress on top of the pressure her boss was putting on her to track down all the financial threads that might help them crack the case against theVenenoswide open. If she and her team could help find bank account information and verify the identities behind them, the agency would pounce.

After showering and pulling on fresh clothes, he went to his locker in the loadout room, careful not to limp even though his knee was throbbing again, and pulled out his phone to text her.

Hey. Just heading out to grab a drink with the guys. Can I head over after that? I’ll bring dinner.He knew she wouldn’t have eaten yet. The woman was as hyper-focused with her spreadsheets and graphs as he or any of his teammates were during an op.

Just got called into emergency meetings at work. They’re coming to pick me up now. Not sure how long it will take. Text you when I’m done? I want to see you.

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