Page 10 of Fast Justice

A chorus of affirmatives answered, so Hamilton strode to the end of the stack and awaited Taggart’s command to begin the assault. The lights went out.

Mal pulled down his NVGs and narrowed his focus to his immediate surroundings, his gaze locked on the door before them.

Taggart gave the signal.

Seconds later, Colebrook’s hand landed on Mal’s right shoulder and squeezed. In turn, Mal did the same to Rodriguez, who pulled back the battering ram and slammed it with all his considerable might into the bolting mechanism.

Wood cracked. Rodriguez rammed the door once more, splintering the lock. Mal charged through it, M4 up and ready.

This time Mal was on his game. They executed the assault perfectly.

“Third floor’s secure,” he announced over his mic.Thank fucking God.

“Building’s secure,” Hamilton informed their commander, “all tangos in custody.”

Taggart didn’t answer, but the lights suddenly came back on.

Switching off his NVGs, Mal met Hamilton’s gaze in silent question, and the team leader gave a casual shrug. “’Kay, boys, good job. Everyone back downstairs in case we have to do this again.”

Before Mal had made it two steps toward the stairs, Maka was there next to him, clapping him on the back with one huge, gloved paw. “’Bout time you brought your A-game,brah,” he teased, always ready with a ribbing. “Was starting to think we might need to replace you.”

Mal grunted at him and trundled down the concrete stairs with the others, allowing his mind to wander. This thing with Rowan was driving him nuts. Trying to forget her hadn’t worked. He wanted answers. To know the real reason she’d ended it.

At the bottom of the stairs, he craned his head back to search for their commander. Taggart was still up on the catwalk, but he wasn’t paying any attention to them, his back to them as he spoke on his cell phone at the far end. Mal milled around by the doorway as the team waited for further instructions.

“Freeman. Lockhart.”

They both looked up at Taggart, who now stood staring down at them with his hands braced on the metal railing at the edge of the catwalk. “Need to talk to you both a minute.”

He and Lockhart exchanged a puzzled glance before heading up a wooden staircase that took them to the catwalk. Their boots thudded on the plywood floor as they strode to the end to meet their commander.

Taggart slid his phone into his pocket and folded his arms as he regarded them. “Something’s come up with the Nieto case,” he said in a low voice. “The daughter and mother are refusing to enter WITSEC at this point, and nobody knows what the hell to do with them. Until it’s all sorted out, the FBI wants us to provide temporary security for them.”

Malcolm’s eyebrows shot up. “Us?”

Taggart nodded. “I’ve volunteered you two.”

What? Oh, hell no—

Taggart held up a hand. “I realize this isn’t going to make either of you jump for joy, but it’s only for a few days.”

“Like, how many?” Lockhart asked, suspicion written all over his normally taciturn expression. A former sniper, the guy was notoriously quiet and impossible to read if he didn’t want to be. Even Mal, who’d known him for years now, didn’t know what went on in Lockhart’s head most of the time.

A shrug from Taggart. “They just told me a couple. Two days, four, I dunno. You’re assigned to the daughter,” he told Lockhart, and then shifted his gaze to Malcolm. “You’re with the mother. I don’t have any other details for you yet.”

Mal frowned, not liking this one bit. This didn’t make any kind of fucking sense. “The mother doesn’t even speak English, does she? And my Spanish is limited to ordering a beer and a taco.” Not even well, at that.

The corner of Taggart’s mouth twitched in the hint of a smile. “So it should be nice and quiet for you over the next few days, then. Think of it as a kind of vacation if you want.”

Vacation? Not. Mal bit back a groan, sighed instead because he couldn’t help it. “Rodriguez would be a better choice, don’t you think?” His Spanish was flawless.

“Rodriguez is flying back to California this afternoon to visit his mom for a couple days. He got a call that she’s not doing well.”

Oh, damn. That sucked. She had advanced MS and had been declining recently. Why hadn’t Rodriguez said anything to them this morning?

“Besides, you’re good with people,” Taggart said, giving Mal’s upper arm a friendly slap. “So you’ll do just fine.”

“Hamilton speaks some Spanish,” he couldn’t help blurting. “More than me.”

---