Running Hot (11 page)

Ford shifted until his back was to Tasha. “You have a job to do here, and it's not her.”

The comment smacked a bit too close to the truth. Ward had started thinking about her and the job as one thing. In his head he didn't pull them apart or think of her as a foreign agent whose mission might differ from his. They were in this together.

Not that he planned on filling Ford in on that conflict and potentially wrong thinking. Ward would have to work that one out on his own. “Yeah, I know. I'm in charge, remember?”

“Then stop thinking with your dick.”

All of Ward's thoughts skidded to a halt. He'd never been accused of that before and refused to accept the charge now. “You have an assignment. Go do it.”

“Fine.” Ford shook his head. “But you know I'm right.”

And the whole walk back to Tasha, Ward feared his friend was correct on this. After confirming the time, Ford left. He had his pack and his watch and his weapons. The guy traveled light. He didn't need more to be lethal. Ward liked that about him.

Tasha watched Ford's retreating back. “What did he say to you over there?”

Ward debated lying but couldn't come up with a reason to do so. She was a smart woman, and he was the one with his priorities all junked up. “That I'm being led around by my dick.”

“Huh.” Her eyes widened. “You actually told me the truth.”

“You asked.”

She smiled. “You are a constant surprise.”

The comment and the expression seemed to come out of nowhere. He'd half expected anger. He got amusement. This woman had him zigzagging all over the place. “Is that good?”

“I think it might be.” Her mouth fell.

He didn't have to ask what drove the reaction. He heard it too. It wasn't as if the person was taking care to be quiet. Pounding footsteps. Steady, almost a march.

“The guard is early.” He put a hand on her elbow, thinking to direct her into hiding. She could come out if he needed help subduing . . . She shook her head and stepped out of his hold. “Tasha?”

“I'll distract him.” She put a finger over Ward's lips as her voice dropped to little more than the sound of a breath. “This isn't up for debate, so stop looking at me like that.”

A double shot of anxiety and anger hit him as he reached for her hand. “I love your power vibe but—”

“Stop there.” She dropped his hand and reached for the gun attached to her waistband, handing it over. “I can't have this visible on me.”

“You're pushing it.” And by “it,” he meant him. He could not let her go out there. This wasn't a woman thing. This was about his personal code. He never handed danger off to other people. He stepped up.

And he needed her safe.

Before he could point any of that out, she squeezed his arm. “Take this guard down without any noise.”

Without another word she slipped away. Stepped right out into an opening in the trees. Held the binoculars and walked, looking up as if she were searching for something in the trees. Not doing anything to cover the sound of her steps.

Instead of yelling like he wanted to do, Ward swore under his breath. His instincts screamed at him to dart out and grab her before the guard made a turn and looked in her direction. There was no way the man wouldn't see her then. He walked along the ridge about twenty feet above her and off to the left, facing the other direction. Unless this was his first day on the job, he'd sense her presence. Even someone not trained knew that ticking sensation at the back of his neck that said someone lingered nearby.

They had to play this out now. Bring the guard in closer, lure, and grab. Ward started a mental countdown as he cut through the trees leading away from Tasha. Ducking low and moving with careful steps, he circled, looking to put his body behind the gunman and within striking range.

In his position behind a clump of trees, he watched the gunman glance down the small hill, then do a double take. The guard stared at Tasha, then took off at a dead run. Momentum took him straight to Tasha's position, almost knocking her over.

She jumped back, but he had her. Hands clasped around her shoulders as he yelled at her in a language Ward couldn't make out. But he could see the gunman looked barely twenty. He also carried what looked like a radio.

Time to move.

Ward watched his footing as he skirted around roots and overturned rocks. When this guy showed up early, they weren't in position. That meant trying to launch from behind him from halfway up a hill—not impossible, but Ward needed the guy quiet. He could not allow the guard to fire a weapon or get a shot off.

“I didn't do anything.” Tasha held her hands over her head and let the binoculars drop around her neck. She cowered. Sounded panicked.

This was an act. Ward repeated that fact in his mind. She was playing her role.

The gunman kept talking. Fast, red-faced, and out of control, he shoved Tasha on her knees on the ground.
“Kele!”

Stop
. Ward didn't know much Fijian but he knew that word. That meant this guy was a homegrown mercenary or military dropout or something. Tigana didn't bring him to the islands. Ward filed that information away for later. Right now he needed this guy's hands off her.

The gunman pressed on the back of her head, bending her neck toward the ground. His words ran into each other, and his weapon came up.

“Kere veivuke!”

Ward knew that phrase, too. Tasha was calling for help as she covered her head with her arms. Real or not, he was going in.

Crouching low, he stalked in, half at a jog. His steps were rushed, and his shoes slid on the angle of the hill. He made more noise than usual, and his focus stayed locked on Tasha and that gun waving too close to the back of her head.

He'd gotten within ten feet when the gunman turned. His hands started moving first to the gun. Then he reached for the radio hooked to his belt, and Ward pounced. He knocked into the guy's stomach with a grunt and sent them both sprawling.

Ward hit the ground hard. Something sharp jabbed his leg, and the gunman's weapon lodged between them. Ward didn't know which way it aimed as they wrestled in a death match to shove each other's hands away.

They rolled, and Ward's back smacked into a tree. The gunman threw back his head, and Ward knew a cry for reinforcements was coming. Ward cut it off by wrapping his leg around the Gunman's two and flipping him on his back. The energy surge had Ward panting as he slammed the gunman's head against the ground.

Dazed and mumbling, the gunman was running out of steam and his movements slowed. The barrel of the gun pressed into Ward's stomach, and he tried to rip it out of the other man's hands. The gunman turned out to be strangely strong.

Being younger and wiry was an advantage. He morphed from slow to wild in a second. The gunman jackknifed into a sitting position and threw Ward off balance. He hit the ground with a thud, then started scrambling. Legs and arms in constant motion, he grabbed for the gun, but it spun out of reach. They both hit their knees, holding each other back and punching through grunts and groans.

Just as the gunman lunged for the weapon, Tasha's shoe appeared. She kicked it away and aimed one of her own at the gunman's head as he glanced up.

The hesitation was all Ward needed. He wrapped an arm around the gunman's neck and pulled. This wasn't a simple takedown. The goal wasn't to knock him out. This qualified as a wrestle to the death, and the gunman must have known it. He kicked out, and his arms flailed.

Ward did not ease up his hold. The choking sound echoed in his ears as the gunman grasped at his arm, trying to rip and tear his shirt and skin. Anything to fight back as his body shook and his face turned red.

It took only seconds but felt like hours for the life to run out of the guy. Ward held on until the gunman's body spasmed, then went lax. He slid to the ground as if his body had turned to liquid.

Ward sat back on his heels and wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm. His heavy breathing drowned out the usual sounds of the tropical forest. His mind blanked as he looked up.

Tasha stood there, gun still raised. It took her another second to lower it, and she did it nice and slow. “You're bleeding.”

The pain held off until she said those words. The thumping in his leg started a second later. “Damn it.”

He tried to get his weight under him, and his knee buckled. Tasha was right there, balancing his body against hers and helping him to his feet with her shoulder under his arm. “Can you walk?”

“Yes.” He didn't know if that was true but he needed it to be, so he said it.

“We'll wrap it up and go.” No nonsense. Firm and clear, she issued the order as she helped him sit back down on a grouping of rocks.

She left him only long enough to check the gunman for any signs of life and clean out his pockets. She returned to Ward and handed him the radio.

Blood caked his pants, making the material stick to him. “What the hell did I hit?”

“I have no idea.” With a sharp tug she ripped his pants up the inside seam and peeled the cotton away from the injury.

The hiss escaped Ward's mouth before he could stop it. When he looked down, he saw a long cut. Not deep, but it probably needed stitches. Well, that was too damn bad.

The radio crackled. A male voice came on. Then another. Ward cursed his limited knowledge of the Fijian language. Most people here spoke English, and with the tight timeline he'd only been able to pick up a few words of the native language. He shook his head now, trying to ferret out the conversation.

Tasha froze. “Hostage.”

Her reaction made him still. “What?”

“They caught a man.” She hushed him as she listened. “A foreigner. Someone visiting the island and caught wandering too close to the wall.”

Ford.
Ward would run on pure adrenaline if he had to now. He pushed his palm against the rock and tried to stand up. “We need to go.”

“In a second.” She dragged him right back down. “First we need to wrap your leg or you won't be any help to anyone.”

“It will be fine.” Ward didn't care if that was true or not. He did not leave other agents behind, and Ford was more than a partner on this job. He was a friend, and he would not die while Ward could get him out. He'd crawl over Tigana's wall if he had to.

She grabbed his hand. “You're too close to this to be reasonable. We're doing this my way.”

The words echoed what Ford had said about her. Ward didn't like the sentiment any better coming from her. “There's a medical kit in my pocket. You have two minutes, then I'm going.”

She opened Ward's utility pants pocket and pulled out a small wrapped package. The kind you took into battle hoping you never had to use it.

“The body count is now five.” She made the comment without looking up.

Only one thing ran through Ward's mind.
And Ford won't be number six.

Chapter Nine

T
ASHA PACED THE
small cleared space in front of the patch of coconut trees as the sun rose. Ford never showed up and wasn't answering the distress calls or whatever Ward kept sending out. And Ward . . . she waited for him to fall over.

She'd applied the blood-clotting powder and wrapped the cut using the adhesive bandage designed to stop bleeding and minimize infection. But those amounted to temporary measures. He needed a doctor and real medical care. He also needed to put that little black box down before she smashed it under her boot.

“Ward, please.” She tried to peel his fingers off the radio, but Ward wouldn't let go. “He's not coming.”

“I know.” The words snapped out of him. “I'm thinking through the options and am almost ready to go in.”

She had no idea what he was talking about. As far as she could tell, he had trouble balancing on the boulder without falling sideways. He couldn't possibly mean . . . could he? “Where are you talking about?”

“Tigana's compound.”

He clearly got hit harder than she thought because even Ward, with his confidence and swagger, couldn't believe he had a chance in this situation. Even if he didn't know, she did. “That is not happening.”

“Ford is my partner.” He tried to stand up and ended up flinching before falling back down again.

She would have helped him, but maybe a reminder that he could barely walk would help. “And you are injured.”

“You know that doesn't matter.”

“Says the guy who can't walk.” She knew she had the better shot of pulling this off, of at least giving Ford a chance at survival while they extracted the missiles. Now she had to make Ward understand that simple fact. They would shoot him the second he stepped near the gate. He was a threat. The guards wouldn't know what to think about her, and that would be her in.

“We don't have time to argue.” He fiddled with the radio on his lap.

Time to go in for the kill. This wasn't fighting fair, but she didn't care—not if it kept him alive, and for whatever reason that had now become one of her top priorities. “So, the ‘you're tough' stuff was garbage.”

“What?”

“If you think I'm so competent, let me do my job. You create a diversion, take out a few guards, and find a pathway for us to get out.” She made it sound easy. Nothing about the Fiji assignment turned out to work as planned. She lost her partner, inherited Ward and Ford somehow, and was now dragging an injured guy through the equivalent of a tropical rainforest.

“Good plan, except you're not going in,” he said.

“You don't have a choice, Ward.”

“You think MI6 wins this?”

Since arguing wasn't working, she went to the skill she did better. “Yes.”

He looked at her gun, then at her face. “You are not seriously aiming that gun at me.”

There was no way she'd shoot anything important. She guessed they both knew that, but he needed to understand how serious she was about this. It wasn't part of an intelligence community turf war. She honestly believed he couldn't function at a high enough level to get this done. “You have fifteen minutes.”