Collateral Damage

She had to escape. Had to lose him. Ipman was likely dead and she didn’t know about Smithers but if either of them were still alive, at least they had a chance with Andrews chasing her.

Through the windows above her, light streamed in from streetlights and from the building across the road. Her gut reaction was to hide but if she stayed in here she’d be trapped. She needed to lose him completely. Get out the far door of this building and veer off to the next before he saw her.

She stumbled over something on the floor. Throwing out her hands, she barely caught herself before her face smashed into the concrete. When she shifted her foot hit something soft. It moved. Scrambling onto her knees, Honor looked down, squinting in the dimness.

A body.

She sucked in a breath and jerked back, but the man was already dead. Her gaze fastened on his outstretched hand and the pistol in it. Heart in her throat, Honor snatched it from his limp grasp.

Rapid footsteps approached the warehouse, moving closer to her left.

He’d found her.

Honor’s gaze locked onto the far door. Her entire body tensed, a wave of panic flooding her. No time to run now. All she could do was hide, and be ready to stand and fight when he came within range.

She checked to make sure a round was chambered then aimed it toward the door as she edged backward. If she had to die, she was going down fighting, to her last breath and pump him full of as many bullets as she could fire off before she fell.

Her head snapped up when she heard a male voice shout her name. It was faint but she heard it clearly over the pounding of her heart.

“Honor, stay behind cover!”

Liam. He’d come for her. And Andrews was between them, waiting with an automatic weapon.

A burst of raw terror washed over her a split second before a burst of automatic fire opened up.

Andrews was firing at Liam.

Without making a conscious decision she was on her feet and lunging back toward the door. It flew open under the force of her kick, the impact traveling from her boot up the length of her leg. Pistol up, she stepped outside in time to catch sight of Andrews moving away from her to face the threat.

As she watched, the barrel of a weapon peeped out from behind the corner of the next building. Andrews fired at it. Honor held her breath. Andrews paused then turned, heading back toward the other side of the building, as though he’d heard something over there. He’d taken a half dozen steps when Liam carefully emerged around the corner and started to drop to one knee, weapon up.

Andrews whirled to face him before Liam’s knee had even touched the ground.

“No!” Her scream of warning tore from her lips.

Too late.

Andrews fired first.

Honor watched in horror as Liam grunted and dropped before rolling away behind the edge of the building and out of sight.

He’d shot Liam.

Something inside her snapped. Pure, blinding rage overtook her, unlike anything she’d ever known.

Alerted by her cry, Andrews began to whirl toward her.

She was too far away to get a shot off, but within range of Andrews’s rifle.

The barrel of his weapon started to shift toward her. There was no one else to help. If she could get close enough, she had a clear shot.

Beyond caring what happened to her, her sole focus was on killing Andrews so she could get to Liam. She charged away from the warehouse, pistol gripped in both hands as a scream of fury erupted from the deepest part of her.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Only another few seconds before she’d be within pistol range.

Honor watched the muzzle of Andrews’ weapon raise toward her as if it was a movie being shot frame by frame. Every millimeter of movement distinct, crystal clear.

She felt no fear as she went straight for him. Only fury and the need to drop him to get to Liam.

Andrews was going down, by her hand.

She didn’t flinch at the bark of the rifle as Andrews opened fire in her direction. Rounds whined like angry wasps as they zipped past to her right. She instinctively veered away but didn’t stop. Her hands remained steady around the pistol, her right index finger curved around the trigger.

Andrews pivoted to follow her movement, swung the barrel of the rifle toward her again.

Now.

Still aiming center mass, she fired before he could correct his aim, squeezing the trigger.

Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop.

She fired off five rounds in rapid succession, catching Andrews in the chest as he half-turned toward her. The impact made his hands slip on the weapon. His next spray of bullets went wide, one arm falling to the side as he cried out and went down on one knee.

She’d hit him. His body armor had saved him from where she’d hit him in the chest, but she’d hit him somewhere.

Body armor couldn’t protect him from a headshot though.

She stopped in place and began to raise the pistol higher.

Sudden movement to her right jerked her out of her weird slo-mo world. Her gaze whipped toward it.

Liam was moving toward her from the edge of the building he’d rolled behind, rifle in his hands, butt to his shoulder. She refocused on Andrews, on one knee now, blood dripping from his right hand as he struggled to bring his weapon up. He was down, but not out.

Aiming at his head, she fired at the same time Liam did.

A hole appeared in the center of Andrews’ forehead where she’d hit him, a red mist exploding around his head as Liam’s round took half of his face off. Andrews dropped to the ground like a sack of cement, lying crumpled with his legs twisted beneath him at an awkward angle.

Her gaze shifted to Liam. He still had his weapon aimed at Andrews as he charged forward. He kicked the man’s rifle from his limp hand, sending it clattering across the asphalt. The roar of blood in her ears subsided, replaced by an overwhelming silence. She wobbled on her feet, slowly lowered her weapon, her fingers welded around it.

Liam glanced down at Andrews. When he looked up at her, the grim set to his expression confirmed what she already knew, given that half his skull had just been blown out.

Dead.

Relief flooded her, the sudden drop in adrenaline taking the starch out of her legs. Liam set his weapon down and stood, his gaze raking over the length of her body. “Are you okay?” he demanded, voice sharp.

Locking her knees, Honor swallowed and forced a nod, unable to take a single step forward.

Liam ran to her. She held back a sob of pure relief when those warm, strong arms banded around her and crushed her to his wide chest. Honor gripped him around the ribs and buried her face against his shirt, feeling the solid plates of his body armor beneath the fabric. If he hadn’t been wearing them, he’d have died right in front of her a minute ago.

Liam reached back to take the pistol from her, slid it into the back of his waistband. He held her tighter when she shuddered, his mouth against her ear. “It’s okay, sweet pea, I’ve got you. It’s all over.”

But was it? There might be other shooters, other conspirators Andrews had been working with. How long had he been pla

“S-Smithers,” she rasped out. “Ipman. He sh-shot them.”

“I know, I saw them. Someone’s with them now. One of them, a master sergeant, he was still alive. An MP was helping him.”

“Smithers,” she whispered as a hot rush of tears flooded her eyes.

“Shh, not right now. Just hold onto me and breathe. It’s all over. You’re safe and Smithers is go

She didn’t speak, just clung to Liam and let his body heat seep into her cold skin. She was shaking all over, a fine, rapid tremor that she couldn’t control. Her breathing was choppy, her teeth chattering as she stood in his embrace.