Page 2 of Olivia

He needed to get up there where he would have a vantage point. Eyeing the staircase, he counted the pallets between him and the stairs.

Five.

He darted for the first one. Bullets sounded like they were following him, but he didn’t stop.

“Cover me!” Jackson screamed at his colleague as he ran past them.

It was a new team, but so far they were working well together.

Bad intel or not, they were holding—for now. Jackson reached the stairs and climbed them two at a time as bullets hit the metal, the pinging noises a death siren.

As he climbed the last step, he looked down, spotting the man firing at him.

One shot to his chest fixed that problem.

Jackson sprinted forward, racing around the platform so he had the highest vantage point.

He was almost there when he saw a figure in the shadows.

A woman shooting at the men below.

Jackson’s eyes followed her line of sight and he saw a man on the ground. His head snapped back to hers.

Jackson came to a halt as their eyes met.

Captivating, dark brown eyes stared back at him.

There was no fear, no hesitation, as she turned her weapon on him. She stepped out of the shadows, and he took a step back and away from the railing.

His mind reeled.

What was she doing?

He’d just seen her fire at one of his targets, but she wasn’t on Jackson’s team.

“I don’t know who you are,” she said with a husky voice. “But you didn’t see that, and you’re going to put your weapon on the ground and let me pass. I don’t care what happens after that.”

Jackson was impressed by her brazen attitude, but he was not putting down his weapon and he was not letting her pass. He wanted to know who she was and what she was doing here.

The corner of his lips turned up as he raised an eyebrow.

“My first thought was that you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time, but that’s not true. You shot to kill... and I need to know why,” he said.

She took a step forward, her eyes assessing him like a caged tiger.

“I’m not going to give you another chance,” she said, her eyes locked on his.

As she took another step, she emerged from the shadows completely. She was half his size with a tiny waist, a slither of her toned stomach showing between her tank top and jeans.

But it was her eyes that drew him in—eyes framed in a delicate face with a sharp jaw line and strong cheekbones.

There was nothing else delicate about her though. That much he already knew.

“Step aside,” she commanded, raising an eyebrow herself.

“Who are you?” Jackson asked, not moving an inch.

“Your men are dying down there while you’re wasting time with me,” she said.

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