Savage Secrets (Titan #6) (35 page)

He ended the call and grabbed a Diet Coke out of the fridge. Fake sugar wouldn’t kill him today. He cracked the top off and flung it into the sink. Without looking at the screen, he called Jared and already hated the conversation that was about to happen.

“You think twice about leaving Cat out of this?” Jared barked into the phone.

“I made the wrong choice. She should be the one to do it. But now we have a change of plans, Boss Man, and I need to get to West Virginia before she gets herself killed.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

A half kilometer from the coordinates, Caterina pulled off the winding highway and down a steep mountain road. The sun had set, blanketing her in the cover of a dark dusk. No one could see her. Wearing black from head to toe, she strapped on a thigh holster, secured a pistol onto a tactical belt, and holstered two combat handguns with enough ammo to blow up a West Virginia trailer. Then she slung the tactical rifle over her shoulders. Tucked into her ankles were her two favorite knives. She was ready.

The forested space between her and El Mateperros was dense. Thick trees decorated a sharp incline. She’d be going up on the way there, making it easier to retreat. Her blood rushed. Excitement tingled in her palms. This was the day she’d waited for. Running the first thirty seconds was smooth—graceful and exhilarating—as if she’d been meant to end up there, on the side of an Appalachian mountain, armed from ankles to collarbone.

The quiet
thump, thump, thump
of a stealth helicopter registered before she could even identify the sound. Cold shivers sliced down her spine. A waterfall of anger and apprehension streamed into her limbs. She picked up a steady run, hopping over downed limbs and ignoring the scratching bushes and branches.

Had Titan come to stop her? Had the United States government decided that tonight would be the night they showed up and dismantled the ACG? She ran faster, the steep incline slowing her down more than she’d expected. The rhythmic thump of quiet rotors soared above her, passing.

No! She was too close. Caterina pounded the ground faster, running harder than she should with barely healed ribs. She wasn’t losing El Mateperros. Not this time. She’d get to him first if it killed her. Whoever was in the chopper could have the ACG. She just needed El Mateperros. Was that too much to ask?

Outrunning a chopper was impossible. She lost track of the whirring of blades as they bounced off the mountain walls. Straining to hear… Maybe she didn’t hear it anymore? Maybe paranoia was getting to her, and the noise had been an echo of a farther away aircraft. She listened. Not much. She pressed forward again, attributing the sounds to road noise from the nearby highway. Or it might’ve been a commuter plane, a puddle hopper or a—

The stealth copter swung back over her head at the same time she hit a clearing, dropping… One. Two. Three. Three men. They melted into the ground, away from her line of sight, and the helo disappeared. Holding her breath, she looked at the house El Mateperros was likely in, waiting for lights to come on or gunfire to erupt. Her heart slammed in her chest, pounding her sore ribs. Nothing. No lights. No gunfire. No—

A solid knock to the back of her legs took her down. A hand clamped over her mouth.

“Oh, Kitten, we have to talk about this later.” Rocco’s soft lips brushed her ear. The warm moistness of his breath tickling her neck made her blood rush all over again, and that had nothing to do with him knocking her down and catching her fall.

She pushed him away and rolled to her stomach in the damp grass. Her strapped weapons dug into her thighs, hips, and chest. Uncertain apprehension made her stomach drop. Rocco wasn’t going to let her take the shot, and she’d resent him for the rest of her life.

“Sorry about that. Didn’t want you to scream.” His voice rumbled over her.

“I am not a screamer.”

He chuckled low. Rocco’s hand slipped off her cheek, down her neck, over the ammo and guns strapped to her, and ended around her waist, pulling her close. “I’ll have to disagree with that.”

She huffed, not in the mood for his jokes. “Go home, Roc.”

“What are you doing out here all alone?”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“Wrong, woman. It might have taken me until the last second, but I want this for you. I want you to be happy, and fuck it, if this does that, then that’s what I want to.”

“But—”

“But nothing. You’d better believe your sweet ass, I’m not going to let you get killed, and you sure as hell aren’t going in alone. Guess that’s love between the two of us. Your fight is my fight, and baby, I want you to pull that trigger.” He pulled in heavy breath. “As much as it kills me not to be the one, it’s your fight.”

She swallowed the knot in her throat. “But you brought a team.”

“Jared’ll be back when we need him. Winters and Roman are in position.”

Her eyes went to the sky. Jared was manning the chopper. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to face him after this. “I don’t know how to operate with a team.”

“You’re not going without strategic cover.”

“I’m not going in to take him out alive.”

“Not a problem, but I’ll be with you. Partners.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Cat, it’s not a debate, and we don’t have time.”

He was right, and she had no idea how many ACG were inside. She needed their help. “Okay.”

Rocco took her hand. She expected a kiss or a hand hold. Something. Instead, Rocco handed her a comm piece. “Mic and earbud. You’ll be live to all of us. Jared too.”

She slipped them on. “Test.”

“There’s our girl,” Roman whispered.

“Crystal clear,” Winters added.

Her ear piece crackled, then Jared came on. “I’m not happy with you and Sugar, and don’t give me any of that
lo siento
bullshit.”

“Ah, don’t be mad.”

“Whatever,” he grumbled. “Get it done then get on board.”

She looked toward where she came from. “Your truck’s here.”

Rocco nodded. “No prob. We’ll drive back. Let’s do this.” They advanced. “Roman.” He pointed to the south side. “And Winters.”

Thirty seconds later, they’d ducked and run to the back door, pressing against the wall and sidestepping. She came to the back door and rested her hand on the knob, testing. “Locked.” She pulled a lock kit from her pocket, slipped out two toothpick-like pieces, and slid them into the lock. The night was quiet. Cool. She listened for clicks and felt for tumblers, adjusting her tools. Time flew. Pressure made her hot, as if all of Titan watched her pick the lock. Working alone had its benefits: her own schedule and lack of a peanut gallery.

Click
. The last tumbler moved. She tried the knob and it twisted.

“Good girl.”

His praise soothed her nerves. “You go high right.”

He nodded, spoke to Winters and Roman, pulling them in to join them, then nodded. Four of them versus whatever was in the house. A twinge of guilt surfaced. They’d already lost Delta men because of her. Now they were walking into an unknown situation because she’d decided to come here alone.

“We’re good when you are, Kitten.”

She pocketed her kit and withdrew a high-powered handgun, twisting a silencer into place. Fingers counted down.
Three. Two. One
.

Rocco charged in from behind her. She dropped, scanning, gun outstretched. They cleared the room. Not a peep from the house. Were the occupants asleep? It’d be an early night, but they had a big couple of days coming up. Or had she missed them? Was it an empty house?

Rocco pointed, and they crossed a kitchen. Leftover food sat on a counter. People had been here recently enough. Great sign. Stairs ahead. She chopped her hand through the air. She would go up; he could cover. Rocco nodded, and Winters and Roman rolled in behind them. The first step creaked. She cringed and looked at Rocco. He was positioned at the base, gun pointed up, watching out for her. Another step. Another. Creak. She swallowed a groan. In her head, the sound was a trombone blaring, but no one came running. At the top of the stairs, she motioned Rocco up. She eyed four closed doors and guessed which one was the master bedroom. Rocco summited and
creak
—

That wasn’t him. Or her. She spun. A man in his boxers walked out of a darkened bathroom. Their eyes met. His mouth opened, and a single yell hollered before Rocco’s silent shot dropped him. But a silencer wasn’t silent.

Lights turned on. Men called out, muffled by the four closed doors. They were surrounded, but ACG was split and unaware. Straight ahead had to be the master bedroom. She moved fast, kicked open the door—El Mateperros. He was pulling on pants. Their eyes clashed. He lunged for the nightstand, and she pulled the trigger. The bullet met his hand in a muffled explosion. It was the same hand that had held her down. That had touched her naked body.

“That was for touching me.”

She pulled the trigger again, smiling as the round ripped into his knee, dropping him to the ground with a roaring cry of pain. “And that was for holding me down.”

Now it was her turn to be the sick one because it felt way too good to have that power. She stepped forward, weapon pointed at his chest. His twisted, flawless face screwed tight in pain. In shock. Mouth agape, silently screaming. The bloody pulp of a hand stretched out in front of him.

Behind her, shots poured rained from and toward Rocco, Roman, and Winters. She heard it all through her earpiece: their voices, commands, warnings. So loud, so chaotic, but somehow so organized. She pulled out her earpiece, wanting to be alone, wanting it to just be her and El Mateperros in this little room.

He writhed on the floor. One steady footstep at a time, she had him pinned to the ground, weaponless and bleeding out. “I’ve waited so long.”

She pulled the trigger again. The bullet whizzed by his head. Intentionally. “You feel that?”

The Dog Killer moaned. “Stop! No!”

“Feel that fear? Imagine being a little girl. Imagine the sound of death and the sight of loved ones, dropping all around. Imagine that hell.”

The crack of bullet whizzing through the wall, into the room made them both jump. Excruciating pain exploded in her shoulder. She cried out, slamming her teeth together, absorbing the bite of a stray bullet. El Mateperros lunged off the floor. Her 9mm scattered across the room.

Hell no
.

A punch hit her cheek. His good hand found her bleeding shoulder, grabbing into the wound. She screeched. Stars exploded in her eyes. Caterina grabbed another sidearm strapped to her, pulling the triggered as his already bloodied hand slid over her skin.

El Mateperros pushed the weapon down, reaching for it—needing to steal it to survive—and there was no way she was giving it up. Caterina growled. Thrashed. Cursed. They were blood soaked, and his hand found her grip on the gun. They struggled back and forth.

Bam
! A round exploded, lighting the darkened room and slamming through an outer wall. Grunts and growls. She bit into his shoulder and kneed him as hard as she could. The gun skittered across the floor. Both reached for it. Neither found success.

His unwounded leg pinned her thigh. Her leg was at such an angle that she could reach the sheathed knife at her boot. Grabbing it, Caterina pulled it fast, and El Mateperros drew up, arm angled to slam his fist into her face. The knife was new to her but with practiced precision, its handle comfortable in her grip, she slammed the blade into him, sinking through his clothes, into his flesh.

He stilled. Shouted. Hollered. Fell back. The knife stuck out from his groin.

That hadn’t been planned and wasn’t fatal. But it was karma.

He looked down. Horror. Complete and total terror. She stared, mouth open, thinking it more traumatic and appropriate than a kill shot. But she still would take one. In a minute. She just needed to absorb the perfectness of their violent collision.

The door opened behind her. The fire fight just feet away sounded as though it had finished. She’d know more if she’d had kept her earpiece in, but Cat wasn’t at all concerned that Titan had been taken out. Nothing would happen to them. She believed it.

El Mateperros’s teeth were bared. He hissed. Rage burned in his eyes. “Fucking whore!” He rolled to the side, ripping the knife free. A shout fell from his lips like that of a wounded, dying bear. She grabbed the gun from across her chest, blood coated fingers trying to find the trigger and sliding as his knife wielding hand dropped toward her.

The gun fell into place in her sticky, wet hands. Finger on the trigger.

A blast exploded.

But—

She hadn’t pulled the trigger.

El Mateperros, knife in hand, dropped to the floor.

Her head dropped back, hitting the floor. Breaths and sweat and blood poured out of her. Rocco stood above.

He’d
made the kill shot. He’d taken out her nightmare and saved her. Too bad he had stolen her moment. A wild, desperate mixture of gratitude and jealousy ripped through her, tearing her into conflicting persons. She should’ve said
gracias
. Should’ve thrown her arms around him and asked for help with bandaging her arm.