Page 22 of Fatal Love
Chapter Six
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CAL WAS BLEEDINGheavily. He swore through gritted teeth as he pulled himself across the living room floor. He’d used Beatrice’s scarf to tie up his thigh, but blood had already seeped through that and he didn’t have anything to use for his arm.
He was definitely going to have to sand the floor and restain the oak after he’d bled all over it.
The woman and her goons had fled the house, but their van was still out front. They weren’t leaving until they got what they wanted.
Beatrice.
All to get back at him.
They obviously hadn’t expected B to be in labor.
Or to come out of the bedroom firing.
As a SEAL, he’d seen some pretty crazy things. None, however, topped his pregnant wife—on the verge of giving birth—saving his ass from a terrorist.
Good thing Maria had been armed and able to help him get her back into the bedroom. Of all the ways he’d imagined this birth could go, an ambush to kidnap his wife and unborn child had never entered his mind.
Ebba Nielsson. He remembered her father and brother. The senior Nielsson had run a legitimate international antiquities business but his son had dabbled in black market pieces, a go-between broker for terrorists who raided and stole priceless artifacts in order to sell them and fund their activities. Hans and Steffen had both died during a raid to take out a sheik named Zayed. Ebba had been left with the family business and some pissed off terrorists on her heels.
Unfortunately, she’d followed in her brother’s footsteps and had taken the antiquities business fully into the black market, making her one of the women of Interpol’s top 100 wanted criminals.
Cal’s SEAL team had only been after Zayed. Ebba was correct about Hans and Steffen being unfortunate collateral. Hans wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near the sheikh’s compound when the SEALs landed. Steffen either. Steffen was there for a private party involving the high-ranking leaders of an international trafficking ring. His father, having discovered some of Steffen’s illegal dealings with the sheikh, crashed the party only minutes before the SEALs did, in an effort to confront his son. The sheikh made it out alive. So did a few of the terrorists who were now being detained for their crimes against the US and France.
Hans and Steffen did not.
Now Ebba was here for revenge.
An eye for an eye.
Cal had killed her family. She was here to kill his.
White-hot anger surged through his system.Over my dead body.
Beatrice and his child were innocent of anything he’d done over the years. The deaths on his head were justifiable, all except Hans Nielsson. Hans had been an unfortunate bystander, but the SEALs hadn’t even known he would be there. There was no way he would let his wife and child pay for that unfortunate accident.
Cal used the wall to shove himself into a standing position. Where was Hunter? Had Connor managed to raise anyone to help them?
The pain from his gunshot wounds was tremendous, but he ignored it. “Hunter, do you read?”
A man’s voice came back, but not one he expected.
“Zeppelin, this is Slash. Coldplay is engaged. I’m on your flank. Over.”
Slash. Connor was here.
Cal tipped his head back against the wall. The kid had major PTSD after the torture he’d suffered at the hands of 12 September. Having sprung to life on September 12th, 2001, less than 24 hours after 9/11, the group was young in terms of militant fanatics, but they were ruthless and stayed well hidden—as opposed to their terrorist counterparts who constantly sought the world’s attention. Many of the “anonymous” international crimes committed in the past ten years were most likely the doing of 12 September.
If it weren’t for Beatrice and all the therapy she’d had Connor involved in, he’d probably be curled up in a fetal position in some psych ward.
Or dead.
“Good to hear your voice, Slash,” Cal said. “Tell me you brought guns and SFI backup.”
