Scorpion

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I trip over my feet as I clamor back into the room to grab my phone from my purse. My head swims and the letters on my screen come up as double. I manage to dial Josh’s number, one of the men who came with us.

“Hello,” the voice crackles through the speaker.

“Goldchild took Mathijs,” I pant, using the wall for support as I stumble through the corridors.

“What? Shit. Where?” Either Josh or Aiden hisses to someone beside them, “Goldchild’s got Halenbeek.”

I stop to pull up Mathijs’s locator on my phone. I’ve never been so grateful that he had himself chipped like a dog in case of situations like this. I squint at the screen to figure out where the little dot is moving on the map. Jesus Christ. How long was I out for that they’re already on the road?

“Toward Denver.”

The hallway twists and turns as I tumble straight ahead in an attempt to retrace my steps out of this messed-up place. My face is throbbing. My ribs are aching. I’m so damn exhausted, and I want Mathijs back.

Okay, think, Zalak. We need a plan, and I need the fog to disperse from my goddamn brain.

“One of you grab my backpack from the helicopter. Then find us a fucking car.”

“It’s faster if we fly—”

“We don’t know where they’re taking him. And it’s too loud. Get it done. I’ll meet you out front in five.” If I can make it out of here. If I don’t, they could kill Mathijs and—

I choke on the panic, and stamp it as far down as I can. I spent ten years of my life training for this type of situation. Emotions are what gets a person killed in the line of duty. If I drop the ball, Mathijs will die. Plain and simple.

“But—”

I hang up before they can waste more of my energy. Leaning against the wall, I let myself have a twenty-second break to close my eyes, focus on my breathing, and clear my head. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Fuck. I hate going into this type of shit blind. Both figuratively, and especially literally.

When I reopen my eyes, much of the disorientation has dissipated, and it doesn’t feel like I’m going to keel over to pass out or throw up. I manage to get myself to the set of stairs that leads into the bunker.

No one pays me any mind, and I stagger when I spot a man with a slit throat lying on the floor. A wolf whistle breaks my thoughts. I turn toward it and spot two people fucking against the wall.

I’m no closer to determining whether there’s another exit out of this bunker that they dragged Mathijs through, or if they simply put a random mask on him, then walked right up these steps.

I sprint up the stairs and out into a study. I eye the sliding bookshelf behind me that’s hiding the entrance to the bunker, then shake my head and run to the exit. I stay close to the wall just in case my legs give out on me. There’s the same sounds as before: screaming, fucking, moaning, crying, laughter, music.

I try to recall the tally I made when I didn’t have my full senses. How many steps did I take before each turn? When did the flooring change? I just need to do it in reverse.

Left, I decide when I make it to the corridor.

My pulse thunders against my skin. Through the fog, my mind keeps threatening to remind me about all the things that could happen to Mathijs. I can’t lose him too. I’m not strong enough to recover from that kind of blow so soon after I managed to tape myself together.

I charge forward, paying attention to the flooring. I don’t dare look into the rooms, but the occasional blood drop on the floor is unmistakable. I pause to glance out of the window to make sure it at least appears like I’m heading in the right direction, but it’s another useless tactic.

I keep going around, backtracking and taking various turns when, finally, I reach the main foyer. A hand lands on my shoulder just as I throw the front door open, and I whirl around to the idiot.

The Men in Black wannabe sneers at me like I’m trying to break out of prison. Based on what I’ve gleaned from this place so far, it might look that way. “Get back inside. You—”

“Have a fucking security breach.”

He looks at me blankly. “You can’t leave without permission from your—”

I don’t have time for this bullshit.

“They fucking kidnapped Mathijs Halenbeek. So I am going to give you five more seconds to remove your hand from me before I consider you an accomplice to his kidnapping.”

He shoots a questioning glance at the two other men guarding the door. “That can’t be—”

I step forward. “Do I look like I’m joking? If he’s dead, I’m going to find you and make a lanyard out of your fucking intestines. You have two more seconds. Tick tock.”

One of the men grunts in silent order for me to be released. I dart out of the house as soon as I’m free and spot two of Halenbeek’s men. Josh holds up my backpack, and Aiden fires up the engine of the SUV they commandeered.

Josh leaves the passenger door open and climbs into the back. I slide in and start firing off directions on where to go. The little dot on my phone keeps moving, picking up an unhealthy amount of speed. I call Sergei to debrief him on the situation—and his, since Goldchild chose to hit one of our warehouses.

Once we hit the highway that they’re also flying through, there’s nothing for me to do except watch the screen since I’ve assembled the sniper and we’re decked out with more weapons than any person might need.

Something in the glove compartment rattles, and I stay still. My pulse stops. My lungs squeeze. My blood drops by ten degrees. Everything hits me at once: the rotation of wheels on asphalt. The hum of the motor. The wind passing the car.

The car.

I’m in a car.

I dig my nails into the fabric of the car.

I got in, and I didn’t think twice about it.

I’m in here.

I did it.

My breathing shallows at the realization. The more I think about where I am, the more suffocated I become in this metal can. Anyone could shoot at us. There could be people hiding behind the—

“They just turned off,” Josh says.

I drag my focus back to the phone I’ve affixed to the dashboard. Right. Mathijs. There’s no time to think about where I am. Sergei and his men are at least an hour out, and they’re dealing with a different shitstorm. Any men that can be spared would need to arrive by helicopter, and it’s not exactly the most silent mode of transport. We’re the only ones who can save him right now.

I quickly pull up my contacts and call Mathijs’s tech girl who I’ve already spoken to tonight. Maddie pulls up all the addresses in the area that they’re heading in, and attempts to narrow down their location. They’re sticking to the back roads which is slowing them down, but I imagine it’s an attempt to get off the main roads to avoid being caught on camera.

She sends me the blueprints of the whole area they’ve stopped at. It’s a compound. We pull up to a stop down the road from the place, far enough away that it won’t raise any flags. By the time we get there, Sergei and several teams of men are twenty minutes out, which means that the three of us can’t go in guns blazing without risking Mathijs’s life.

We trek down the mountain, following the map Maddie sent.

A shiver works down my spine from the combination of adrenaline and the cold air. It might be unseasonably warm for this time of year, but the moisture seeping into my clothes and bare arms makes matters all the more miserable.

Of course I’m doing this shit in a big skirt and heels. And I forgot my fucking coat. Trust Mathijs to make sure I’m improperly dressed for action.

I grit my teeth and use a tree as support to steady myself as I break the heels off my expensive shoes, and rip the lehenga off so I’m just in my shorts, then trudge through the Colorado woods. I’m going to kill him myself if we both survive this.

We collectively pause when a gunshot echoes through the forest. We snap our attention to each other, then sprint toward the compound.

The hairs at the back of my neck stand on end. I push myself harder, kicking up dirt and fallen leaves. We come to a screeching halt when we reach a twelve-foot-high fence, decked out with barbed wire and electricity.

Son of a bitch.

Cursing, I run around the perimeter until I have a view of something—anything. I systematically raise the sniper scope to my eyes each time there’s an opening through the trees.

“You’re getting further away from the—”

“Shut up,” I snap before Josh can finish putting in his unwanted two cents.

We need higher ground, a view, and to get away from the cameras he so conveniently didn’t notice.

A quick check of my phone shows that Sergei is five minutes out.

Mathijs has been in Goldchild’s custody for well over twenty minutes. The first fifteen are the most crucial. We don’t have time to sit and wait for Sergei, and since none of us can scale the fence, we need to improvise.

My gaze darts to a boulder tucked into the earth, then to the view of a property to the right. Without bothering to tell the two men to sit put, I swing the sniper around to my back and use the tree roots to climb up to the top of the stone. It’s a tight fit between the dirt wall and the edge of the boulder, but it’s just long enough for me to lie on my stomach and set the rifle.

I look down the scope and adjust it to carefully survey the compound to get a better grasp on what we’re dealing with and if I can be of any help once Sergei arrives.

It’s a typical mountain home with brick walls and plenty of chimneys. The only thing that sets it aside is the copious number of warehouses and garages scattered throughout the compound, far enough from the main home to give it some privacy.

We’ve never been able to narrow down where Goldchild’s factory might be. This is probably where the magic happens.

Several armed men walk about the compound, rushing from one place to another, all ripe for the killing.

Aiden passes me the backpack and I make quick work of setting up the ballistic computer with the rifle for better accuracy. Another breath, and I’m back to scoping out the place.

“What do you see?” Josh asks while they both do laps around our perimeter.

I ignore him.

“Do you see—”

“Stop talking,” I grate out.

My heartbeat stalls when I make it to the back of the main house. They have Mathijs chained up by his wrists, half naked, hanging from a pole that’s sticking out from the side of a pavilion. Purple and blue blotches decorate his pale skin. Blood braids through his blond hair, and drips down his torso, dotting the concrete like blooming poppies.

Bile lurches up my throat but I hold it down. Cold sweat coats my skin as an older, beer-gutted man with knuckle busters throws another punch.

Red falls over my vision. My finger twitches over the trigger, and I have to move it on top of the trigger guard to stop myself from doing anything rash.

It’s not a kill blow. Mathijs will survive it. If I shoot now, I’ll give away our location, and they’ll end his life.

Grabbing my phone from inside my top, I call Sergei. He answers on the second ring. “I have eyes on Edelhert. Back porch of the main house. A click from the main road. One point five clicks west of my position.”

He grunts. “How many guards?”

“Twelve that I’ve seen. Armed.”

“We’re three minutes out.”

Just then, the bald man torturing Mathijs turns. My lips curl into a sneer. “Goldchild’s here.”

“You have a shot.”

I hesitate. “Affirmative.”

“Wait for my signal.”

The line stays on as he fires instructions to everyone else.

“Aiden, watch my six. Josh, head down to assist. You’ve got three minutes to get there.”

I don’t check if he listens, focusing on calculating the shot. The nerves wracking my body make it hard to keep a steady hand. My pulse is running rapidly, my head is pounding, and my breaths are unsteady. A rookie would have a better chance at success compared to the state I’m in.

If I fuck up, he dies. If I don’t get it together, he dies. If I can’t get a grip, then years of training and duty were for nothing.

Closing my eyes, I let myself imagine that TJ is next to me, silently giving me instructions and keeping me up to date on the world outside of the pinpoint I can see. When that doesn’t calm my nerves, I picture him looking down on me, wherever he is, doing just the same with a beer in his hand.

“Eh, I don’t think you can make the shot, Scorp,” he’d say with a grin every time we were going long range. “How about you give it up and let a real man have a crack at it. Thirteen hundred feet? A woman couldn’t pull something like that off.”

TJ would always goad me into things, and tease me until I wanted to beat him up, but the challenge fueled my spite, amping up my need to prove him wrong. After all, it’s the same words he said to me when I made my record.

“How about this, you shoot the fucker dead and I’ll do your laundry for a week. You miss, then you do mine. I should warn you, girly. I’ve got some nasty ones for you to deal with.”

His incessant shit talking filters through my head as my body slowly relaxes, and I become in tune with every beat of my heart.

“Thirty seconds,” Sergei says through the phone.

I go through the motions, triple checking my calculations based on the conditions; wind speed and direction, alleviation, humidity, and spin drift.

“Twenty.”

I wince when Mathijs’s body folds from Goldchild’s strike.

“Fifteen.”

The kingpin stays in his spot, laughing and waving his arm about.

“Ten.”

Inhale.

“Five.”

Exhale.

“Four.”

One heartbeat.

Two.

I pull the trigger.

Three.

The boom echoes through the mountains followed by a cacophony of screams and gunfire. Goldchild drops from the impact.

I don’t check if he stays down. I go from man to man, gunning them down so they can’t make it any closer to Mathijs. I’m too far away to confirm whether I’ve successfully killed them. As long as they’re too disabled to do more, Sergei and his men can clean the place.

The shouts continue for what must be minutes. My position is compromised, but I can’t risk moving and leaving Mathijs open without cover.

Just as I think it, nearby commotion pulls me from the sniper. My hand shoots out for the handgun strapped in the holster at my side. Aiden hisses as he tries to fight off two guys from his position on the ground. With one swift curve of my arm, I fire off two shots, hitting the taller one in the throat, and the other chest. Aiden snaps his attention up to me, jaw dropped.

I revert my attention back to the sniper and continue releasing bullet after bullet. I only stop to replace the magazine, then keep going again until Sergei’s voice reaches me.

“The north side is clear.”

“The house?” I ask.

“Civilians and hostages only. What’s Edelhert’s status?”

I sweep the area surrounding Mathijs, noting each body littering the ground while Josh unties him from the pole.

“Clear,” I answer.

“Good. Stay on watch up there until we roll out.”

“Roger.”

The line dies, and I let myself close my eyes for just a moment. Relief floods through me, and I let out a breath.

Thank you, TJ. I owe you a drink the next time I see you.

I continue patrolling the compound from a distance, prattling off directions into the receiver to the men on the ground so they can deal with anyone who’s still alive. I pause when my phone vibrates with an incoming call from Josh.

Frowning, I search the grounds to find him at the back of the house kneeling next to the second person I shot at tonight, fingers pressed against the man’s pulse point.

I answer the call. “What’s wrong?”

Josh turns his head to say something to the person behind him, but no sound comes through the phone. I follow his line of sight to Mathijs, who’s standing over Goldchild’s body wearing Josh’s coat. Despite the distance, he’s staring straight at me. There’s a pride-filled glint in his eyes that makes me falter.

“What’s the distance?”

Warmth unfurls through my body at the sound of Mathijs voice. The corners of my lips tip up and I throw a quick glance at my ring before double checking the computer. Clearing my throat, I say, “One thousand five hundred and two meters.”

He smirks. “Zalak Bhatia. Ex-Sergeant of the 75th Ranger Regiment. Eleven Bravo. Special Operations Forces. Codename: Scorpion. Two confirmed kills at fifteen hundred meters.”

A smile cracks across my face, and I have to chew on the inside of my cheek to try to contain it.

Look at me, Mom. Your beloved daughter just made history.

“Get in the car, Mathijs Halenbeek.” I can’t help myself from grinning. I got engaged, broke my personal record, killed Goldchild, and got in a car. All in one night. “Stop being a security nightmare.”

His ensuing chuckle makes my cheeks ache. “I take it a mountainside wedding is off the table?”

“I’ll kill you myself if you don’t get out of my shot.”

“I love when you talk dirty to me.”

“Get out,” I growl as I whip open the door into Mathijs’s office.

One of the housekeepers and the on-call doctor both send me puzzled looks. It’s unlike me to call out orders like this, but unless everyone except Mathijs leaves this room within the next ten seconds, I’m going to lose my shit. I had to travel separately and stay until Sergei cleared me to leave.

I know he’s alive.

I know he’s fine.

But I need to see him and touch him to get rid of every single doubt clouding my mind.

“I suggest doing as she says before we have another death on our hands,” Mathijs muses from his spot on the couch.

The doctor chuckles, then gives some advice I know he won’t follow, and by the time we’re finally alone, I think I’ve lost the ability to breathe. A cacophony of black and blue mars his pale face, ringing around his eyes and along his jaw and cheek. I can barely see the glint in his bright green eyes through the swelling and bloody skin.

“I shouldn’t have killed the motherfucker,” I say, my voice sounding like it comes somewhere from hell. I stalk forward until I’m staring down at him. Tentatively, I touch his mottled skin. “I should have brought him back here and removed every single bone from his body with him wide awake. Death was a fucking mercy compared to what I would have done to him.”

Mathijs wraps his fingers around my arm. Fury ruptures through my veins at the sight of the rope marks around his wrists. He presses his bloody lips against the scar on my forearm before twisting my hand to rub the diamond ring.

“They don’t deserve a place in the history books beside you, Lieverd. But their names will be lost to whispers and hidden in the shadows, forgotten to time. You? No one will ever forget you. I’ll make sure of it.”

I capture his lips with mine, careful not to hurt him. Heat explodes between us as the kiss deepens to a point that probably hurts him. He needs to know how much I care about him—how much I love him despite not saying the words. Actions have always spoken louder, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that he’s reading what I’m trying to say.

He pulls me onto his lap, then releases a pained groan that has his entire body seizing. I quickly climb off him and give him a stern glare. “We are not having sex when you’re in this state, Mathijs Halenbeek.”

His lips tug up into a strained grin. “But what a way to go.”