Blue Blood's Trifecta (13 page)

"Fire!" their leader ordered. "Incoming!"

A missile with a fiery tail streaked across the sky, exploding immediately on impact with the deteriorating structure.
Kaboom!
A ball of fire rose from the home. The ground rumbled and shook like a seven on the Richter scale. Smaller explosions and the pings of bullets from an obvious weapons arsenal took up the song of destruction. Rogue curled into a ball facing downward, feeling the sting of debris pelleting his prone body. Glimpsing to the side, he found Ryan in the same situation, shielding his face as hot pieces rained down upon them.

Peeking out, Rogue found a crater where the home once stood. No basement or tunnels remained, only a big blob of waste materials. Beside him, Ryan scurried to his feet, darting over to where Night lowered Bryce to the ground. Rogue followed at a trot.

"How bad?" Ryan asked, reaching out to pull Lark into a tight hug.

Loco nodded toward Spoon. "He took one in the arm. That's what happens when you're old and slow."

For all the teasing, Rogue could see the lines of worry on Loco's face and the concern for his friend.

Spoon flipped him off, but didn't argue.

Ghost wandered up, his pale eyes taking in the situation even as he remained mute. Stepping back, he kept his gun at the ready, his gaze raking the entire area.

"We thought you…" Lark trailed off.

Loco grinned. "Nah. Lost my link in a scuffle. Damn tango squashed it under his boot."

Bryce sat on the ground holding his knee, his face a testament to sheer pain. "Damn steps. Saved my life when I tripped down them. Missed a bullet but busted up my knee."

Rogue kept a watch on all their backs as they checked in with one another, comparing notes, and formulating a new plan. The hum of chopper blades pulled his attention to the sky. Sure enough, a very familiar remodeled Huey hovered over the still burning compound, their eyes and ears from above, as she watched over them.

Tempest. First thing he would do upon seeing her would be to spank her delectable ass for disobeying his orders to stay home. Right after kissing her senseless for coming to the rescue. Sending a salute to the air, he looked back at the small group.

Though dirty, disheveled, and covered in black face paint, Lark leaned in and kissed Bryce soundly. The heady cure must have worked, judging by the wide smile on the former Marine and present day detective's face. With Ryan's assistance, he stood gingerly, keeping weight off his injured leg.

"Let's go home," Night announced, taking Bryce's other side as they hobbled to where their vehicle was stashed. Everyone else fell into line with Ghost pulling up the rear.

Chapter 22

Cale, Night, Ghost, Ryan, Lark, and Rogue sat around a small table at a local hamburger joint. Having just scarfed down dinner, they turned to the pressing matter at hand, their thoughts with the two injured members of the team sitting in the hospital.

Ryan released a tired sigh. After the raid in the wee hours of the morning, he'd spent most of the day up to his armpits in red tape, paperwork, and questions with no answers. Nigel Rossi had disappeared from under the FBI's nose. What little information Spoon pried from his brother's computer while sitting in a hospital bed brought about more anxiety and worries than it banished.

"The contracts are already bought and paid for. They will continue despite the death of Rossi."

"Names?" Ghost spoke for the first time since they sat down.

Ryan nodded. "Spoon coaxed two names from Rossi's files. He's not positive they're hit men, but it looks promising."

"Write them down." He plucked a napkin from the holder and pushed it over to Ryan.

Ryan arched an eyebrow at the brown haired man with the pale blue eyes, but did as he asked, adding in every detail he could recall, anything to help track the potential killers faster.

Ghost jotted down a number on a napkin and exchanged with Ryan. "I'm going hunting." With those words he tossed his trash in a waste can, strode through the side door, jumped in a nondescript black SUV, and drove off. In a blink, he vanished from sight.

Everyone watched him go with mixed expressions on their faces.

"What's his story?" Ryan asked.

"No one knows. He says little, stays invisible most of the time, and never misses," Night answered after chewing the last bite of his hamburger.

"What branch?"

"SEAL Six."

Cale whistled low. "Top of the line."

Sipping his drink, Night took a moment to reply. "His service records are spotless, which part isn't sealed. Graduated first in his class in sniper school. Even the instructors never had a clue where he was. Thus, the name Ghost."

"He looks sad. Scary, but sad," Lark said.

"He looks like he's lived through hell and has the T-shirt to prove it," Loco muttered in awe.

"He looks like an assassin," Rogue pointed out. Night's gaze met his. The flatness said he hit the nail on the head with his observation. Rogue rethought his philosophy on fearlessness. If there was a man who exhibited the skill, it was the man known only as Ghost.

"What are we going to do?" Lark tossed out the question plastered on everyone's face.

"Let Ghost do what he does best and watch our backs."

"I don't like sitting on my hands and waiting for some marksman to hunt me or my family down," Cale growled.

"Me either. He gets anywhere near Oakley and I'm going to…" Loco started in.

"If nothing else, we can work on those same leads Ryan gave to Ghost. Track them down ourselves. Pass along information." Lark tapped a finger over her lips. "Try to stay a step ahead of him."

"Good idea." Ryan jotted down what he knew on a handful of napkins, passing one to each person.

"We're not without resources." Night nodded. "Ghost is without question an expert. But any directions we can provide might be appreciated."

Rogue nodded. "So we scatter?"

Lark checked her watch. "I need to get back to the hospital across the street. Dillon is watching the guys, but he'll want to be getting home to his pregnant wife soon."

Cale grinned. "Poor guy. He's steamed about Night grounding him, but beside himself with joy at impending fatherhood."

"He's needed at home more than here." Night shrugged before his face turned serious, checking off each person in attendance. "Watch your backs. Find out what you can. Report in anything you come across, no matter how small."

"What about Ghost?" Lark asked.

"He'll beat us to the tangos, I guarantee," Night answered, stood up, and led the rag-tag team out the front door.

Chapter 23

Rogue hitched a ride with Ryan for the trip home. Both sat in silence most of the way, occasionally tossing out topics of conversation that quickly dried up like a rain puddle in the Sahara desert.

Ryan drove, his attention on the road while his mind whirled with thoughts, his body still humming with the aftereffects of adrenaline. Too jacked up to go home and sit in front of the television, he posed possibilities to himself, searching for an appropriate outlet. Unfortunately, Rogue sat in the passenger seat, two feet away, his wide shoulders and thick upper body just an arm's reach away. Too close, yet not close enough.

What am I thinking?
How many times had he asked himself that same question since he agreed to give Rogue a lift and then couldn't keep his gaze off the highly masculine hunk next to him. Dozens. How many times had he questioned his sanity in the same amount of time? About the same number.

Releasing a long sigh, he pulled to a stop at a red light. Unable to resist, he turned to Rogue, trying to read his body language. Tension still rode his former Army buddy hard, if the tight muscles, tapping fingers, and clenched jaw were to be believed. Not surprising after the hell they went through a couple hours ago. Yet, Rogue's deep brown gaze kept skipping over, as if he were checking out Ryan, trying to figure out some puzzle.

That makes two of us.

Gesturing to the next road, Ryan asked, "This the one?"

"Yep. Brick front. Third on your left."

Pulling into the driveway, Ryan absently noted the tidiness of the landscaping and front yard. Recently cut grass appeared thick and full, all the same height, like a lush green carpet. Three large trees provided shade, drawing attention to the covered front porch of the ranch style house. Instead of a normal street, Rogue's home sat on more of a side road where a cluster of houses lay separated by a few acres, giving each plenty of space, and a feel for country life, while remaining close to all the provisions city life held.

"Want to come in for a beer?" Rogue pulled on the door latch, cracking his door. Pausing, he stared at Ryan, waiting for a reply.

He shouldn't. Not now. With both of them revved up, needing a release for the pent up emotions and adrenaline from their mission. He didn't trust his behavior with a man who confused the dickens out of him, cranked up his libido, and pushed his buttons way too easily. Maybe when he was in complete control, under different circumstances.

Something flickered in Rogue's eyes. Hurt? Concern? Regret? Whatever the case, Ryan's gut clenched. "Sure." The word slipped out before he could bite it back.

A smile lit up Rogue's face, easing the lines, and making him appear relaxed and boyish. Ryan's breath caught at the transformation. So used to the permanent scowl, he never realized how a simple grin would turn handsome into something more.

After shutting off the engine, Ryan got out of the vehicle, shut the door and beeped the truck locked as he followed Rogue to the front door. As much as he tried to ignore the powerful legs that blended into a muscular ass, his gaze kept returning to the sight. In belated astonishment, he realized his actions but could no more stop himself than he could make the heavens open up with a soaking rain during a drought.

Following Rogue, Ryan stepped inside the living room. Clean and tidy came to mind. Light colored hardwood floors gleamed, reflecting the light's illumination. A deep brown fabric sofa sat along the back wall while a matching recliner angled at the side, both facing a large screen television. Along with a walnut stained coffee table, they made up all the furniture in the main area. Definitely a bachelor pad.

He shut and locked the door behind him.

"Have a seat. I'll get the beers." Rogue gestured to toward the couch.

Ambling over, Ryan sat down, sighing with relief and delight as the fluffy cushions settled around him. After the rough going, pampering and softness stood at the top of his priority list. Who knew how many bumps and bruises he would discover later on. It could be worse. He could be stuck in a hospital bed or dead.

Rogue reappeared, handing over a chilled can.

Accepting the beverage, Ryan popped the lid and took a deep swallow. "Damn, what a day." Leaning his head back on the couch, he tried to unwind tight muscles.

"Yeah. It sucked."

Ryan caught the rough tone and swiveled his head to look up at Rogue who stood next to the recliner. "We made it through. That's what counts."

"Yeah, with men down and the tango still out there with hired killers posed to take out the rest. Not really a success in my book." He walked closer before settling down at the opposite end of the couch from Ryan.

"I don't know anything about Ghost. But, Night believes in him. That's good enough for me." From the few encounters with the leader of the Wind Warriors, Ryan understood two things. Night never misjudged anyone and if he wanted you dead, you might as well pick up a shovel and start digging.

"He's an assassin." Rogue sipped his drink, his other hand resting on his thigh.

"I figured."

Rogue arched an eyebrow. "It doesn't bother you, being all FBI and such?"

Ryan rolled his eyes. "If he can keep my sister out of the crosshairs of a sniper's rifle, I'd kiss the devil incarnate."

For the first time since, Rogue grinned ruefully. "Speaking of a kiss…"

Ryan groaned loudly, slapping one hand over his face. He stepped right into the one topic he desperately wanted to avoid.

Rogue chuckled. "Thought I'd forget, huh?"

"Hoped, actually."

"No such luck, bro. That kiss you plastered on me was damn hot."

"What a convoluted mess." Ryan scrubbed his face. "I don't get it." The whole experience still dumbfounded him. Too many questions lay unanswered, all centering around the man just a few feet away.

"Get what?"

"I've never wanted a man before. Never looked at them twice. Until now."

"Denial?" Rogue tossed out.

"I have no clue. All I've ever wanted was women. Until that day. It just sort of happened. We were arguing and well…"

"And your inhibitions lowered with the fight, allowing your deeply buried feelings to finally express themselves?"

"Hell if I know." Ryan slugged another long swallow of beer. "We've argued before. More times than I can count. So, why this time?"

"The timing was right."

"Come again." Ryan sat up, twisting so he could watch Rogue's face, before resting his elbows on his knees.