Page 41 of Over the Edge

He swore again. “This is the real deal. Violence. Possibly killing. Are you ready for that?”

“Yes.”

Her answer was firm. Without hesitation. He said crisply, “Let’s lose these bastards before it comes to a fight.”

They picked up speed even more, twisting and turning through the literal maze of streets and alleys that formed the old city. He thought he knew which direction was which, but he honestly couldn’t be sure. The key was to keep moving, keep putting corners and buildings between them and the men following them.

Worry for Anna’s safety was a steady buzzing in his head.Must protect her at all costs. He slowed down a tiny bit as her breathing grew labored, but they couldn’t afford to slack off the pace by much. The men behind them had the advantage of not carrying heavy bags of military hardware.

Another right and then a left, and a long, narrow alley opened up before them. He took off running down it with Anna. The far end was cloaked in darkness with no streetlights or light of any kind coming from windows. As they hit the heavy shadows, he looked for an outlet and swore under his breath.

He’d done the thing he most feared.

He’d accidentally run them into a dead end. There was no way out.

And footsteps pounded the pavement behind them, closing in fast.

Cal parkedthe Hummer in front of a shabby log cabin in the southern Virginia woods a little before midnight. The Reapers piled out, fast and silent, balanced on the balls of their feet, hands hovering near holsters, ready for action.

The front door opened and a large silhouette was backlit by flickering firelight.

“Thanks for seeing us, Ronan,” Cal called out, his hands held carefully away from his sides.

“Long time, Striker.” The silhouette stepped back in silent invitation to come inside.

It had been a while since anyone had used his old field handle. Today’s Reapers tended to refer to him as the Old Man, or simply Boss.

“Striker?” Lily murmured from behind him.

Axe answered, “Cal’s field handle from his operational days on the Reapers in a galaxy long, long ago and far, far away.”

“I’m notthatold,” he muttered.

“He doesn’t run in the field at all any more?” Lily inquired.

Leo answered, “He broke his back a few years ago in a helicopter crash. Hasn’t been cleared for field ops, yet.”

Cal’s back molars ground together. ‘Yet’ being the operative word, dammit. Everyone thought he was done, but he would show them. Training the Valkyries for the past year had brought him very close to operational speed.

The Reapers piled into the cabin on his heels, crowding the tiny living room. Ronan fetched chairs from the kitchen table and Jojo helped. When everyone had somewhere to park, they all sat down.

Their host tossed a few more logs on the mostly burned out fire in the river stone fireplace, then sat on one of the kitchen chairs, facing everyone. But he addressed Cal. “What brings you to my hideout in the middle of the night, old friend?”

Cal sighed. Ronan was a sniper, one of the best in the business. But the guy had been at it long enough that he was starting to show the mental fraying most snipers eventually faced: guilt, paranoia, anti-social tendencies.

Many shooters developed hideaways like this one, far away from other people. They went into the wild as needed, to hang out and get their shit together before they rejoined the human race. It was a huge breach of etiquette to barge in on Ronan Sturlison’s private refuge like this.

“I’d like to introduce you to some of the current Reapers. Axel Adams, Joaquin Romero, Leo Lipinski, Lily VanDyke.”

“What doesshedo?” Ronan blurted.

“She’s on the team. Female SEAL. I’m running a classified program to train several women, in fact.”

“No shit? She looks too scrawny to be a SEAL.”

Cal shrugged. “Gymnast. A whole lot stronger than she looks. Plus, she’s fast and smart. Nobody—I meannobody—sees her coming.”

Ronan looked skeptical, but that wasn’t why they were here, tonight.

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