Way of the Warrior (Troubleshooters #17.5)(60)

CHAPTER 6


He’d shot her!

Rage poured through Rook, a superheated frenzy that threatened to snap his hold on sanity. She fell at the man’s feet, a crumpled rag doll, dark hair a shadow on the snow. He almost stepped into the moonlight, lifting his gun and aiming between Johansen’s eyes but something held him back.

He focused on Vivi, watching as two men stepped forward to pick her up by her arms. She groaned, and it was a precious sound against the backdrop of the ocean in the distance. There was a long mark on her neck, and the snow at her feet was dotted with dark stains. His vision hazed the color of her blood.

Then Rook shut down—just gave himself over to the soldier who ruled his mind. He counted five men, all black-ops soldiers by their bearing. One hung back at the tree line, but Rook took in the others’ eyes, memorizing them in a split second, recognizing none but realizing he’d kill them all if Vivi was more than just winged by that shot. Run, she’d said. Goddammit. She’d trusted Johansen, not realizing she shouldn’t have trusted anyone.

He watched them drag her through the snow into General Arbor’s house. He hoped Arbor was still alive. Rook had known when they’d come up on the house that something was off. Arbor had been moving around his kitchen when he’d scoped the place earlier. In the time it had taken him to get back to Vivi then back here, Johansen and his men had shown up.

Vivi had been surprised. Rook hadn’t. The signs were all there—this was too big for the men gunning for him not to have their hand in everything. This type of presence here was proof.

Rook waited, keeping to the darkness and watching as the lone man moved in from the edge of the woods while the rest entered the cabin. He moved like a wraith—in his space one minute, gone the next. Rook had only ever seen one person do it quite like that. And that person was dead. Knight.

Rook headed for the back door of the cabin, plans forming instantly. He’d been trained to plan, execute that plan, and kill. He did them all really well. Anyone who’d touched her had become a target for him.

Rook slowed his breathing, fought the need to get to her, and wasn’t shocked when the man who’d hung back attacked him from the rear. He turned, catching the man with a short right cross to the jaw, then wrapping his arm around his neck.

“Calm the f*ck down, Rook.”

Rook froze. The voice belonged to Knight. The man moved like Knight. But Knight was buried in Virginia, a single cross marking the place he’d finally come to rest.

Rook released him, turning him around quickly, striking out and taking him down with a single punch to the solar plexus. He followed him to the ground, his forearm to the other man’s throat and his gun to the man’s forehead.

The moon peeked from behind a cloud, and Rook watched as it revealed a face he’d never expected to see. “What the f*ck?”

Knight smiled. “Good to see you, brother.”

Rook pressed harder. “You’re dead.”

“Get that f*cking gun outta my face, dude. I’d hate to have to kill you with it,” Jonah Knight said, smile gone, eyes hard.

It still sounded like Knight. That mocking smile looked like Knight. “You’re dead.”

“And you’re a broken f*cking record. Look, we don’t have time for this. Johansen will kill both Bentwood and Arbor if we don’t get in there. The men with him are freelance. They’re ready to take off at my signal. Then it will be you, me, Johansen, and maybe some answers.”

“I don’t believe this. How do I know it’s you?” Rook demanded, not lifting up off the gun at all.

“Because it looks like me?” Sarcasm hung in the air, and then Knight’s face blanked but the truth was in his black eyes. “Endgame.”

Rook rolled off his best friend and stood. “Why?” he asked.

Knight stood, brushed off the snow, and looked at the sky. “Had to be done. The truth caught up with me before it did you. But we’ve got a way now to settle this. A way to make it right.”

“There’s no way to make what happened on the side of that f*cking mountain two years ago right,” Rook ground out.

Raised voices from inside the cabin had Rook moving. A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“She’s important?” Knight asked.

Rook took a deep breath, sifted through his mind for the answer, feeling it notch in his throat. “Yeah.”

“What the f*ck, dude? Only you could find a woman in prison,” Knight said caustically.

Rook ignored the bait. He hadn’t found her. She’d found him. “Call those spec-ops boys off, Knight. You make entry first. I’ll tag Johansen, and we’ll play, yeah?”

“On it.” Knight was gone then, a breeze and then nothing.

Rook entered the cabin, checking the shadows and listening. A thud sounded from the area of the den, and then a large black shape entered the kitchen. Rook aimed, the man held up a hand. Rook let him leave the way he’d come in.

Knight had done what he’d said he’d do. Rook pushed the disbelief aside. He and Knight had been a unit for so long that it was easy to fall back into the pattern of trust. The f*cker would have questions to answer later, but right now, Rook had no choice but to depend on him.

He entered the den, took in the blood dripping onto the floor beneath Vivi’s chair and then the gun Johansen had trained on her. Her head was forward, chin touching her chest and her breaths were choppy. Vivi’s eyes were closed, but she winced and he knew then she was aware of what was going on.