Page 43 of Covert Obsession

“Give it to him,” Parker snarled. While she was sitting up, gritting her teeth against how tight he was making the tourniquet, she was doing that thing with her eyes, telling him to stop fucking around and cooperate.

Time spun out as Moe considered the fact that he had two choices: he could play dumb and hope the reason the terrorist wasn’t taking the quickest route to get the stupid device was because he didn’t have enough bullets, or, he could give in and hand it over.

It wasn’t the right call. He knew it wasn’t. The watch somehow played a crucial role in this whole fucked up operation. It might hold government secrets or a way to track RING. It might be a key to something else.

If he defied her, she might die, and he couldn’t have that. But Moe knew he could save herandthe mission. He was certain of it.

First, distraction. “You didn’t expect this turn of events, either, did you?” He was working off-script and terrorists didn’t do well when they had to think outside the box. If Moe handed over the stolen item, they were most likely all dead anyway, and whatever it was used for, or whatever information it held, might threaten innocent lives.

The mission comes first. How many times had his instructors, teachers, mentors, and commanding officers drilled that into his head? No matter which option he chose. there was no easy way out of this, no guaranteed outcome.

Second, cover Parker. Standing slowly, he raised his hands and blocked Romalov from her. “Take it easy, mate. We can cut a deal. I’ll give you what you want, and you walk away free and clear.” Although he wouldn’t get far, considering the rest of the team was closing in. “Doesn’t that sound good? Just tell me what this has to do with Lydia Charmaine. Were you using her as bait to get to Petit? Your sponsor must really have a hard-on for the guy. Then again, whoever’s backing you must not be any smarter than you are if he thinks he can trick one of the most intelligent men in the world into this trap.”

From behind him, Parker kicked his heel with her good foot. Even without looking, he knew her head was about to explode. If he survived this, she was going to kill him.

Not a terrible way to go.

Romalov was itching to prove his intelligence after Moe’s comment. “This trap was good enough to fool you,??????.”

Moe didn’t speak Russian, but he got the drift.Back at you, asshole. “You do understand that Homeland, the NSA, and the FBI are at the mine. They’ll save Lydia, you’ve lost Petit, and you and your team are never escaping the country. You’re gonna find yourself rotting in federal prison for the rest of your life, which, considering your legion of crimes, probably won’t be much more than a few years. Interpol and a whole lot of other agencies will be fighting over themselves like fan girls at a Taylor Swift concert to extradite your ass. Your head is on the chopping block.”

He pointed the gun at Moe, which was exactly what Moe wanted, shaking with anger and frustration. “Give me the watch or I’ll kill you.”

Moe patted his pockets, acting as if he’d forgotten which he’d placed it in. “Here’s what I think. You don’t have enough bullets left to kill all of us, maybe not even me or you would have already done it. Am I right?”

Romalov shoved Gus away, dropped the pistol, and dove for the shotgun.

Moe launched himself at it at the same time.

They collided in a tangle of arms and legs. The bastard was like the Hulk and outweighed him by a good amount, but Jordy had taught him how to fight at the age of ten, and he’d been throwing punches ever since. The terrorist would’ve made a good streetfighter, but there were advantages to being lighter and faster. If he could keep him from connecting with his jaw and knocking him silly, his body could withstand the punishment of those fists. Better yet…

Moe avoided a roundhouse punch and nailed him in the groin. Romalov dropped like the Hulk he was, making the ground tremble.

Dirt and sweat burned Moe’s eyes as he leaped at the weapon. Romalov grabbed his other arm, jerking it from the socket to keep him from reaching it. Moe frantically looked for the shotgun, but it was nowhere in sight. He kicked Romalov again and took a beefy fist to the rib cage that made him flinch. He stretched as far as he could to touch the butt of the M4.

Both men stilled when they heard the cock of the shotgun. “One wrong move,” Parker said, standing over them with the double barrel pointed at Romalov’s head. “Just one and I will blow your brains out.”

TWENTY-FOUR

Parker’s legs and arms shook, but she held the weapon with fierce determination. She was tired of this shit, and she would end Romalov in the next breath if he didn’t do as she ordered.

She had never taken a life and hoped she never had to. It wasn’t like in the movies or video games—this was real. A living breathing human, no matter how heinous their actions, deserved help and grace. There were few people who couldn’t turn around and become a better person. Her mother had taught her that, and she embraced it with every cell in her body.

Until right now.

She’d been pushed to her limits.

Everything in her became precise, calm, and still. Romalov had shot her, yes, but when he’d attacked Moe, normal Parker turned into Parker the deadly weapon.

Her leg screamed and her head throbbed again. Not as bad as it had before, but she felt lightheaded. The brief recovery at the station hadn’t lasted, and now with her leg blazing fire, she would not go down without a fight. This bastard had shot her, strapped dynamite to Lydia, tried to abduct Emit.

Both he and Moe stared at the end of the double barrels. Moe slid off Romalov, easing over to the semiautomatic and picking it up. He moved stiffly and she knew he was hurting, too.

Gus lay on the ground, still unconscious, and she wondered where the damn bear was.

Romalov started laughing, blood streaming from his nose and split lip, courtesy of Moe. He lay staring up at the sky, saying something under his breath in Russian.

All she had to do was keep the gun trained on him. A trickle of sweat ran into her right eye, stinging. She blinked hard, refusing to take her hand off the heavy gun to wipe it away.

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