"New author makes fantastic debut with this breathtaking romantic suspense."
Reviewed by Suzanne Tucker
Posted January 15, 2007
Thriller Psychological | Romance Suspense
Before he quit Delta Force, a US military antiterrorist
organization, David Wolfe thought he had taken out every
one of the Swarm's sadistic members, so they could never
hurt an innocent person again. Two years later, he's
reluctantly called back for a situation needing his skill
and expertise.
Noelle Blanche is smart -- really smart. She's the only
surviving person who has any chance of cracking an old code
containing the location of a cache of stolen warheads the
Swarm wants in their possession. Her parents were both
scientists who taught her she must have as much
responsibility as she does brains because someday she'll be
held accountable for her creations. Noelle will not take
the chance of her discovery turning into something deadly
and has decided not to help Delta Force crack the code. Bad
idea! The military is offering Noelle protection in
exchange for her work, for if she doesn't cooperate, and
very soon, she'll be executed. This code cannot fall into
the hands of the Swarm, and the military will do everything
in their power to see that doesn't happen.
The Swarm wants Noelle very badly and they want her alive.
David has been hired to protect her at all cost. If Noelle
doesn't stay alive long enough to crack the code, a lot of
innocent people will die. The adventure in terror begins.
NO REGRETS is a spellbinder; a sexy, action-thriller of a
romance. It's pulse-pounding, edgy, powerful and very, very
hot. It is an all-nighter. Brava, Ms. Butcher, for an
amazing debut novel.
There are several captivating secondary characters
screaming for their own stories. I hope I'm right because I
can't wait for her next thriller. Ms. Butcher is a new
treasure in the contemporary romantic suspense genre. Move
over Cherry Adair and Shannon McKenna. You
have company on my keeper shelf. Don't miss this nonstop
action thriller.
SUMMARY
Renowned cryptologist Noelle Blanche refuses to have blood
on her hands. So when the military asks for her help in a
covert operation, she refuses-until masked gunmen raid her
home and threaten her life. Suddenly it's all too clear
that any blood spilled may be her own. Noelle has no choice
but to trust the dangerous stranger sent by the military to
safeguard her. A stranger who is everything she detests,
everything she fears…and everything she desires. NO LOOKING BACK Former Delta Force operative David Wolfe thought he had
left it all behind-the horror, the hurt, the guilt. But now
the men who savagely murdered his wife have set their
sights on a brilliant cryptologist who can lead them to the
cache of weapons they prize. As passion ignites between
David and the woman he's sworn to protect, what began as
just a mission escalates into the fight of his life. But
can he prevent history from repeating itself?
ExcerptDavid Wolfe’s past caught up with him in the parking lot
of a small-town grocery store in the Rocky Mountains. Late
November sun warmed his dark hair but did nothing to rid him
of the chill of foreboding that sank into him with every
step he took toward his former commanding officer.
Colonel George Monroe lounged against David’s Jeep,
blocking his escape.
"What are you doing here, sir?" asked David, his tone
sharp with displeasure.
Colonel Monroe regarded David with a steady stare that
would have made a less confident man go pale. Monroe’s
once-black hair was shot steely gray with age and he had the
emotionless eyes of a man who’d seen too much suffering in
one lifetime, but in his white knit shirt and khakis, he
looked more like a retired golfer than he did a commander in
of the world’s most elite, secretive fighting force.
"You’re a hard man to find, Wolfe," said Monroe.
"I wasn’t wanting to be found, sir," replied David. "I’m
surprised that you got this far."
"We traced the money you sent your sister for her son’s
surgery."
David spat a searing curse. He’d wired the funds from
over a hundred miles away under an alias of an alias of a
man who didn’t even exist. Monroe should never have been
able to find him.
Unless he’d really been working at it.
Ripples of unease slipped down David’s spine. Whatever
Monroe wanted from him, it couldn’t be good. Powerful
military leaders like Monroe didn’t ambush former military
men in grocery store parking lots just to catch up on old
times.
"What do you want?" demanded David.
"We need you, Wolfe. There’s a...situation."
"I don’t give a damn about your situation," said David,
purposefully adding a belated, "Sir."
Monroe’s mouth twitched with a hint of a smile. "I see
you haven’t lost your respect for authority these past two
years."
"No, but I’m about to lose my temper, so you’d best move
away from my Jeep and find yourself another man for your
situation. I quit Delta Force two years ago, remember?"
Monroe didn’t budge and David was quickly beginning to
think that he was going to have to show Monroe just how much
he’d learned in all those years of being under his command -
training to fight with whatever was at hand, and when
nothing was at hand, fighting with nothing. His body tensed
as he sized up Monroe for a quick, efficient take-down.
"I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Wolfe," said Monroe as
if reading David’s violent thoughts. "I’m not stupid enough
to think I could take you on in a fair fight, so I brought
back-up. There’s a sniper a hundred yards behind you in the
trees. He’s not as good as Grant, but he’s good enough." A
brief, feral smile flashed over Monroe’s face.
David froze, suddenly feeling the weight of a lethal
rifle aimed at his skull. If he touched Monroe, it would be
the last thing he did.
"You’re a bastard, sir," said David.
"So says my wife, but then she doesn’t know me like you
do." Monroe flicked a hand signal at the sniper and David
recognized the command to wait - on alert. "I need you to
take on an assignment and I’m not taking no for an answer."
"Yes you will. I don’t owe you anything. I walked away
with a clean slate. The only favors I owe are to Grant and
Caleb and they’re not the ones asking." David suppressed his
guilt as he mentioned his two closest friends - the men he
owed his life to countless times over. The men he’d walked
away from two years ago, leaving them to carry on the fight
for freedom without him.
Monroe tilted his head and looked directly into David’s
eyes. He was one of the few men David knew who could really
look at him and not flinch. "You’re wrong. You do owe me."
The sudden softness in Monroe’s voice worried David. Men
like Monroe were never soft - not with their wives or
children and certainly not with the men like David who they
ordered to the most hellish places on earth to kill some of
the most vile people to ever draw breath.
"What the hell are you talking about?" asked David.
"I was the one who ordered the rest of Delta to stand
down on your last op."
Pain seared David’s chest at the mention of that failed
operation and just how much it had cost him. His body shook
and the groceries crunched under his tightening grip.
Against his will, his eyes slid shut and he was forced to
face the horror of his two-year old memories, still
painfully fresh in his mind.
"You were the one who gave that order?" The lack of air
in his lungs made the question come out as a thready whisper.
"I did," said Monroe. "And I’d do it again today if faced
with the same choice."
Had David not had the small outlet of revenge Monroe had
given him, he wouldn’t have lasted this long. The guilt
would have eaten him whole.
"Were you court-marshaled?" asked David.
Monroe looked away, his gray eyes sliding uncomfortably
to the woods behind David where the sniper waited for a sign
to kill. "It doesn’t matter now. What does matter is that I
need your help. I never meant to call in that particular
favor, but I don’t have any choice. I need you to come back
for this op. Lives are at stake."
Bleak, painful memories flooded David’s head and he
fought to hold them back – to stem the flow of blood, death
and pain all cloaked in shades of nightmares.
"I won’t go back." growled David, unfamiliar with the raw
sound of his own voice. "I can’t. I lost too much working
for you to ever go back."
Monroe’s mouth flattened into a grim line. "The Swarm has
resurfaced. They’ve started killing again."
David was so shocked it rocked him back onto his heels.
"That’s impossible. I killed them all. I torched the
building and watched to make sure not one of them made it
out alive."
David relived every single moment of his last op in the
space of a heartbeat. He felt the blind rage that had
gripped him as he killed, felt the grim satisfaction of
knowing that the Swarm would never hurt anyone again, felt
the hollow emptiness of knowing that no matter how many men
he killed, he couldn’t bring back the dead. Revenge changed
nothing.
After several tense moments, David was able to rebuild
the barrier on the part of his mind that was a tempest of
chaotic nightmares - images that beat at his sanity until
only a bubble-thin film remained.
"Four civilians are dead and the life of a young woman is
at stake. I need you. She needs you."
"You want me to protect her?" asked David in disbelief.
"You must be desperate."
Monroe pulled in a deep, weary breath. "You know the
Swarm. You know their tactics. You also know what will
happen to her if you fail."
Seething, violent rage billowed up into David’s throat,
leaving behind the acid taste of bile. For two years he’d
thought that he’d taken out every one of the Swarm’s
members. Before he quit Delta Force he’d made sure that they
could never harm an innocent again.
He’d been wrong. For two years, he’d been wrong.
"Tell me where the Swarm is now," demanded David in a
near growl. "I’ll kill every last one of them myself."
"We don’t know where they are. But we know what they want."
"The woman," guessed David.
Monroe nodded. "Dr. Noelle Blanche. Stick with her and
you won’t have to find the Swarm. They’ll find you."
A slow, ferocious smile curled over David’s lips. "Where
is she?"
---
"We need to talk."
Noelle Blanche jerked with a start and she turned around
to see who had interrupted her concentration.
Professor Joan Montgomery, Noelle’s long time mentor and
friend, stood in the doorway of Noelle’s cramped office,
looking worried and slightly nauseated.
Joan had been one of Noelle’s undergraduate professors at
the University of Kansas. She had given Noelle her first
taste of Latin and because of Joan, Noelle’s educational
destiny had changed. Her career path to mathematician had
taken an exit toward linguistics and she’d ended up at some
wacky rest stop called Assistant Professor of Applied
Mathematical Linguistics.
Noelle forced a welcoming smile on her face, pushing
aside the intriguing, vaguely Cyrillic script she’d just
received in an email from a colleague in Russia. "I’m
teaching Linear Algebra in fifteen minutes, but I have until
then."
Joan’s expression twisted with discomfort. "I’ve been
sent by the dean to find out your final decision about that
grant. He’s tired of waiting."
Noelle stifled a resigned sigh. "I already told him I
won’t accept any grants funded by the military."
Joan tucked her graying, chin-length hair behind one ear,
pulled out the orange, 1970s cast-off office chair and sat
down. "Why not? You’re the only one in the department who
can do the work. Hell, as far as I know, you’re the only one
in the country who can do it."
Noelle shook her head and shoved a hand through her red
curls to detangle them from the hinge of her glasses.
"That’s not true. There are at least four other people who
know more than I do about that particular flavor of
cryptology and two of them live right here in the States.
It’s just a hobby for me. They do it full time."
"They weren’t the ones the government offered oodles of
grant money," reminded Joan. "Apparently, you’re a lot more
valuable than you think."
Noelle made a rude, snorting noise. "My sister’s the
smart one. Let them ask her. Or anyone else. Just not me."
"Why won’t you do the work? It sounded fairly tame to me.
It’s not like they’re asking you to build a bomb or something."
"They want me to develop a mathematically-based
encryption system for military use."
"So?" asked Joan, frowning at Noelle in confusion. "Don’t
you think you can do it?"
Noelle waved a pale hand, almost knocking over the
Leaning Tower of Paperwork. "Of course I can do it. I’m
already halfway finished with the algorithms because I
couldn’t stop my brain from working on the puzzle while I
was sleeping. I’ll have the solution in another two months,
whether or not I want to know it, but that’s not the point."
"Then what is the point? Because I’m not seeing how you
turning down easy money is going to help solidify your
position here at the university."
"If I give the military a tool, they will use it.
Eventually, they will use it offensively. When that happens,
people will die and I’ll be partially responsible. I can’t
do that."
"If you don’t, someone else at some other university
will," said Joan, her face softening with understanding.
"You’re brilliant, and it will probably take someone else
five years to do what you can in two months, but eventually,
someone will figure it out. Eventually, someone will give
the military their tool."
"But it won’t be me," replied Noelle. "I won’t have that
blood on my hands, even if it means I get fired."
"Downsized," corrected Joan with a grimace.
"Whatever." It all meant that Noelle would be out of a job.
Silence filled the room, broken only by the faint buzzing
of the cheap fluorescent light overhead.
"Not whatever," said Joan. "Downsized."
The apologetic tone of Joan’s voice caught Noelle’s
attention. "They sent you to fire me, didn’t they?"
Joan’s dark eyes met Noelle’s green ones. "If you don’t
accept this grant money, you’re going to be let go at the
end of the spring semester."
Let go. Noelle felt like her outdated chair had fallen
out from under her. She probably shouldn’t have been
shocked, but she was. It was one thing to think about the
possibility of losing her job; it was entirely different to
know it will happen. And when. "Are you sure?"
Joan nodded, making her short gray hair sway along her
chin. "That’s why I was sent here. The department doesn’t
want to lose you and your freakish brilliance, but we just
can’t afford the additional expense right now. Since your
salary comes out of the Linguistics Department budget, we
had the final say. I’m so sorry."
Noelle closed her eyes. What would she do now? Finding a
job that didn’t require her to say, "Do you want fries with
that?" was going to be nearly impossible. It wasn’t as if
she had employers beating at her door, begging her to come
to work for them. Mathematical Linguistics wasn’t exactly a
booming field. Someone in an obscure career like hers would
need months, if not years, to find another suitable position
- likely one that would have to be built specifically for
her. What would she do until then?
She had racked up tons of debt in student loans just to
get her Ph.D. The loan payments by themselves were more than
her other living expenses combined. She could hold off the
bill collectors for a while, but she was going to need a
decent income - not the kind she could make flipping burgers.
Noelle swallowed past the panic that clogged her throat.
It was just money. She’d find some way around this obstacle.
"You could always take the grant," suggested Joan.
Noelle wished it were that simple. She was sorely tempted
to just give in and make her life a whole lot easier. But
for someone who started college at sixteen, easy clearly
wasn’t her modus operandi. "I can’t do that. It’s blood money."
"Don’t be so dramatic," scolded Joan. "No one’s asking
you to hurt anyone. In fact, it’s entirely possible that
doing this could save lives."
"And if you’re wrong?" Noelle stood and shoved her laptop
into its black nylon tote. "I can’t take that chance. I
wouldn’t be able to sleep at night wondering if my work cost
the lives of innocents."
"This is your career we’re talking about - your entire
future rests on this decision."
"Now who’s being dramatic?" scoffed Noelle.
"I’m serious. If you walk away from this grant, chances
are you won’t find another position anytime soon. If you
take the job, then you stand the chance of becoming famous
in academic communities as the woman who revolutionized
Mathematical Linguistics."
Noelle rolled her eyes. "I’m sure they’ll write that on
my gravestone, right next to the part about how I helped
kill thousands of innocent civilians in some country where
the children don’t even know what math is."
"I can’t let you do this to yourself," said Joan. "You’re
too brilliant to slaughter your career because of something
that might happen."
"It isn’t your choice to make. You’ve been by my side,
supporting me when everyone else pointed fingers and laughed
at the scrawny kid with more brains than social skills. You
are more than just my mentor, you’re my friend, but you
can’t ask me to do this. I won’t be a part of killing, no
matter how necessary some general thinks it may be."
Noelle shoved students’ homework into her bag, refusing
to look at the woman who had given her nothing but good
advice and steadfast support.
"I’ll call you this weekend, after you’ve had some time
to think," said Joan.
Noelle didn’t bother to tell her that she’d already done
all the thinking she needed to. Her mind was made up. And
just to be sure she wasn’t tempted to change her mind when
the financial panic truly set in, Noelle pulled her laptop
back out from its case and typed the command that would kill
every trace of data on her hard drive tied to the project.
There was no going back now.
She’d be out of a job come spring, but at least she’d be
able to live with herself and that was something no amount
of grant money could buy.
---
Fired or not, Noelle still had a job to do until spring
and she had just settled in for a wild Friday night of
grading clumsily executed Calculus I homework when the
lights in her tiny rental house went black. With a sigh that
came all the way from her toes, she pulled open a drawer
that held one of many flashlights in her home. She’d always
been told that old houses possessed great amounts of charm
and character, but in her experience, they simply possessed
noisy plumbing, abundant drafts and faulty wiring. It was
the third time this week that she’d blown a fuse in the
house’s ancient fuse box.
Making her way to the basement more by memory than sight,
Noelle descended the bare wooden stairs. With the speed of
much practice, she unscrewed and replaced the same fuse
she’d put in just two days ago. Mentally, she made a note to
speak to Mr. Hasham about this problem when she paid him
next month’s rent.
Even with the new fuse in place, the lights didn’t come
on. That had never happened before.
Above her head came the crash of breaking glass, followed
by the muted tinkle of brittle shards falling to the
hardwood floor.
Noelle jumped with a start and then froze, listening. The
sound had come from her back door.
Someone was breaking into her house.
Chapter Two
Noelle’s heart slammed around inside her chest as she
fumbled to switch off the flashlight so she could hide in
the dark basement. Overhead, she heard the slow, methodical
step of at least two people walking over the floor.
She prayed that they’d just take whatever they wanted and
go. As silently as she could, she tiptoed over the dusty
floor toward the stairs. The basement was relatively empty
and the only hiding place was behind the creaky stairway.
Noelle held her breath until her lungs burned, listening
as the footsteps came near the top of the stairs. A beam of
light flashed into the basement, falling on the spot where
she had been standing only seconds before. In the center of
the white pool of light sliding slowly over the floor was a
tiny red dot - the kind cast by a laser pointer like she
used when lecturing.
Or like the laser sight on a weapon.
Noelle sucked in a silent breath as the realization hit
her. These weren’t just some punky kids out to make a few
bucks off a stolen TV. Whoever was in her house was armed in
a serious way.
Noelle heard the faint rattling of the batteries against
the plastic case of the flashlight held in her trembling
hands. The white spot of light swung to her left, casting
the shadow of steps - like jagged black teeth - onto the
floor near her feet. The red dot glowed brighter and she
could see the streak of laser light bouncing off the dust
particles floating about in the grimy basement air.
A soft gasp escaped her mouth against her will and blood
pounded loudly in her ears. Noelle watched the white light,
saw it gather and grow smaller and brighter as the wielder
stepped onto the stairway.
The old wood of the top step creaked under the man’s
foot. She could see his heavy combat boots through the open
back of the steps as he descended.
Noelle tried to catch her breath as she shrunk back into
the smallest space possible. She clutched the flashlight
knowing that it was her only weapon. She knew also that it
was going to be a poor match against men armed with real
weapons.
A sharp pop, followed by a muffled thump sounded from
what Noelle thought was her living room. The foot on the
step moved, pivoting as if the man had turned around to look
behind him. The column of light disappeared for an instant.
She heard a grunt and the sickening crunch of breaking bone,
then the body of the man at the top steps slowly tumbled
down, bouncing limply off the hard edge of each wooden step.
When he landed at the bottom of the steps on the dirty
floor, his dark eyes were open, staring right at Noelle.
She froze with fear. It took her several frantically fast
heartbeats to realize that the man was dead. Most of his
face was covered with a black knit ski mask, but she could
see his eyes, glazed and fixed in death.
The small flashlight mounted to the top of his rifle cast
a brilliant cylinder of dusty light against the wall
immediately to Noelle’s left. The dust kicked up by his body
landing on the dirty floor swirled in the air, clawing its
way into her lungs. The need to cough strained her chest as
she fought to remain silent.
The groan of old wood sounded directly above her head and
her chin shot up in time to see a new pair of boots land
stealthily on the top step.
This time the boots were larger.
The man moved down the steps staying to the outside edge
so that the wood made as little noise as possible. Noelle
forced herself to remain quiet, pressing a hand hard against
her mouth and nose to keep herself from coughing. He moved
with caution and a practiced grace that told her he’d done
things like this before. A lot.
No flashlight was mounted to this man’s weapon, but now
that he had descended down the steps far enough for her to
see him through the wooden slats, she realize that he was
wearing headgear - likely the Starlight scopes the military
used for night vision.
He knelt down to the dead man at the bottom of the steps
and pressed two fingers against the side of the fallen man’s
throat. Even as he checked for a pulse, his eyes never lowered.
He plucked something from the dead man’s head and fitted
it into his ear – probably some sort of communication
device, she guessed.
He scanned the room and as soon as he spotted Noelle
through his night vision goggles, his body went still.
Cold sweat slid down between her breasts. She clamped her
fist around the plastic flashlight, gripping it as she would
a baseball bat. Slowly she forced her trembling legs to
straighten and began inching her way to the only escape -
the steps.
"Dr. Blanche?" asked the man in a near whisper.
He knew her name. That had to be good, right?
"I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to get you out before
the bad guys can." He extended a gloved hand. His body was
entirely encased in black. Even his face had been smeared
with black paint behind the eyeholes in his mask. He held
the rifle with the unconscious confidence of a man that had
spent a lot of time handling weapons.
She prayed he wasn’t lying. She wasn’t used to running on
instincts, so hers were rusty, but they told her that he was
telling the truth. He was here to help.
Intellectually, her best option was to make a break for
the stairway to get out and let the police sort out good
guys from bad. It was a good plan. Her only plan. But as if
he anticipated her moves his body shifted so that if she
wanted to get to the stairs, she’d have to go through him.
She’d taken enough statistics classes to know the chances of
that happening were almost as bad as her chances of winning
the lottery.
Painful, ragged heartbeats punctuated her scattered
thoughts. Above the thud in her chest came the faint creek
of aging floorboards. Someone else was up there.
Noelle’s heart did a flip-flop and settled low in the pit
of her stomach.
The man in front of her didn’t even flinch. He raised one
gloved finger to his lips for silence and knelt down to
switch off the flashlight of the dead man.
Instantly, the basement was plunged back into dusty
blackness. Noelle’s eyes widened but there was simply no
visible light available. She was blind.
Noelle resisted the urge to flip the small plastic switch
on her own flashlight, and sweep away some measure of terror
with the brush of light. She knew that would give away her
position not only to the man here in the basement, but also
to the one above.
Those rusty instincts screamed at her to get out of the
house. Too bad they hadn’t started shouting five minutes sooner.
Cautiously, Noelle reached out a hand to feel for the
stairs as she stepped forward. Before her first step had
fallen, the man in the basement with her had crossed the
distance between them, covered her mouth with his gloved
hand and used his body to flatten hers against the brick
wall behind her.
A startled scream bubbled with up in her throat, but his
hand prevented the noise from escaping.
He bent his head down so that his mouth brushed against
her ear. His words were a mere breath of sound, almost too
quiet for even her to hear. "Be quiet and I’ll get us both
out of here alive."
Noelle had no idea what this was about or why these men
were in her house. But one thing was for sure, no matter how
much she wanted to flee, there was no way she was moving
until he was ready to let her. Her body was pressed so
tightly against the wall that she could feel the tiny
serrations in the bricks behind her.
Noelle gave a tight nod to let him know the she would
comply. Satisfied, he lessened the pressure of his fingers
against her mouth. She pulled in a deep breath, which
expanded her chest, bringing her closer to her captor. The
heat from his body seeped through the knits of the
multi-layered clothing she wore to combat her drafty house.
She felt metallic bits of his military gear against her
breasts and belly, along with the hard edges of a
bulletproof vest. Her nose was level with his collarbone and
she could smell the distracting combination of the leather
of his glove and warm, male skin and cordite.
Another weary floorboard gave away the location of the
intruder above. He was in her bedroom, and she could tell by
the slow creak and groan, the intruder was searching for
something. Or someone.
It was completely black in the basement, but Noelle could
feel his steady, even breathing mingling with her own
frantic, rapid breaths. If he was nervous, he certainly hid
it a lot better than she did.
She found his confidence oddly comforting.
His body shifted, and she could feel the warm press of
his mouth against the top of her ear. His wide, gloved hand
still hovered directly over her lips. She didn’t doubt for a
second that he’d be able to stop her from yelling before she
even pulled in enough breath to make a squeak.
"Stay put," he commanded in the low, gruff voice. "I’m
going to clear a path to get you out of here."
"But -"
His fingers sealed off her mouth, preventing any more
words from escaping. "I know what I’m doing. I’ll come get
you when the coast is clear."
Before Noelle could argue anymore, he was gone and she
was left alone in the darkness without even the faintest
whisper of footsteps trailing behind him.
Noelle wasn’t about to be trapped in the basement again
with an armed stranger. Her gut told her that man was
telling the truth - that he really did want to help her.
Logic told her that he was just one man against multiple,
armed men. If he failed to clear a path, as he put it, she
may well be left to her own devices to escape.
Using only memory to guide her, Noelle shoved the
flashlight in her jeans’ pocket, held her hands out in front
of her, and began to slowly inch across the basement floor.
The dry, splintery surface of the wooden stairs scraped her
fingers, but she refused to let go of the only object that
could safely lead her to freedom. The toe of her tennis shoe
bumped into something limp and heavy. The dead man.
She shivered in revulsion as her stomach clenched and she
ground her teeth together to keep from vomiting onto the
basement floor. Pushing the thought of corpses out of her
mind, she knelt down and felt around the body until she
touched the cold, smooth surface of his rifle. Being careful
not to accidentally pull the trigger, she positioned her
hands so that she could use the weapon as it was intended.
Her fingers trembled and her skin was slick with the sweat
of terror. She wasn’t sure that she could actually shoot
someone, and she prayed that anyone looking at her wouldn’t
instantly know that was the case.
From the floor above, she heard a pop and the heavy thud
of a body collapsing. Fear slithered along her spine, as she
wondered which of the men had fallen.
She prayed it wasn’t the man with the commanding tone and
the smell of leather on his skin.
---
David picked up the weapon of the man he’d just killed. A
quick glance through his NVGs confirmed his suspicion that
the ammunition they were using was non-lethal. Tranquilizer
darts.
The men after Dr. Blanche were not here to kill her. They
wanted her alive.
The thought should have made David feel better about the
situation, but then again, the Swarm had wanted many other
hostages alive. At first.
Bitter memories churned in his head making his gut
clench. He’d failed one woman and it cost her her life. He
wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.
He looped the strap of the confiscated weapon over his
shoulder and headed back down the hall toward the main
living area.
The door to the basement was open, as was the shattered
kitchen door that led to the back yard. Cold, black air
swept over the ancient tile floor and curled around David’s
legs. The scent of burning leaves and wood smoke wafted on
night wind, reminding him of campfires and countless frigid
nights spent on frozen, enemy soil.
So far he’d taken out three men. The comm unit in his ear
buzzed with another voice, frantically trying to locate his
buddies. If David had been running their mission, there
would be at least one more silent participant covering the
outside of the house on the off chance that the woman would
be able to escape the trap they had made of her home.
A shadow fell across the concrete slab just outside the
kitchen door, giving away the presence of another man right
outside. To his left, wooden stairs creaked and he knew that
Noelle was heading right into the line of fire.
David crouched low, down to the right so he could cover
her entrance into the kitchen. The matte black coating of
his weapon and silencer blended into the shadows. If
anything was going to give him away to his enemy, it would
only be that he was a darker shape than the night that
surrounded him.
Slowly, the enemy pivoted around the doorframe, making
himself a clear target. Before David had time to squeeze the
trigger, Noelle stepped out into the kitchen directly
between David and his target.
With a silent curse, the muzzle of David’s weapon jerked
toward the ceiling. "Get down!" He shouted.
The man in the doorway ducked and fired, hitting Noelle
with a dart.
Noelle jumped and the rifle in her hands fell in a
metallic clang on the tile floor. Her file stated she had no
combat training, but, to her credit, it only took her a
split second to respond. She spun around toward sound of his
voice and ducked low, covering her head with her arms.
David heard the hollow thud of the second tranquilizer
dart as it exploded from the end of the rifle and sunk into
Noelle’s flesh.
She yelped in pain and reflexively ripped the dart from
her arm, tossing it on the kitchen floor as if it were a
live snake. Clumsy fingers swatted the remaining dart from
her arm, but it was too late. The damage was already done.
Her body wobbled unsteadily as the drug began to take
effect. David rose from his crouch, leveled the gun, and
squeezed off two rounds in a double-tap. The bullets hit the
target one half inch above each eye socket.
Even before the dead man had landed on the ground, David
lowered his weapon and went to Noelle. Her fingers were
pressed over the injuries on her arm. A dark spot spread out
over the thin pale fabric of her sweatshirt - likely more
drug than blood considering how quickly she’d shed the
second dart. The first one, however, had stayed in long
enough to do its job and the drug was already coursing
through her system.
David didn’t dare remove his NVGs to check her injury.
There wasn’t much time before she’d be unconscious and he
needed her awake to complete the second part of his mission.
Noelle’s eyes rolled around loosely in her head, which
she moved as if it were too heavy to support.
None too gently, David took her by the shoulders and gave
her a shake. "Don’t leave me yet, Noelle," he commanded in a
quiet growl. "Where is your research?"
She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them wide, trying
to focus on his face. "My laptop," she managed, jerking a
hand toward the small desk in the living room.
"Where do you store your records?"
Her eyes slid shut and David reached for the hypodermic
pen that contained a stimulant powerful enough to keep her
awake for a few more minutes - long enough to get the
information he needed. He’d had the pen dosed for someone
lighter than himself, but his hand wrapped around her
slender upper arm told him that the dose wasn’t small
enough. He’d seen surveillance photos of Noelle, but he
hadn’t expected her to be so slight under her baggy
clothing. Even the reduced dose could make her OD.
Save the woman at all costs. We need her alive.
His orders had been crystal clear. Had they left even a
shadow of a doubt that he’d have to be responsible for
another woman’s death, he would have walked away from the
assignment and not looked back.
David stowed the drug and gave Noelle’s slim shoulders
another shake. "Where are your papers? Your records?"
Clumsily, her mouth worked to form words. "No paper," she
mumbled. "Here." Noelle tapped a limp finger against her temple.
Her eyes glazed over and her face went slack. She was out.
"Shit," David cursed, hoping she wasn’t just bragging
about having her work in her head. It would make his job a
hell of a lot simpler if he didn’t have to go on a search
and destroy mission as well as a rescue mission.
Before any more visitors appeared, David scooped her up
and positioned her over his left shoulder in a fireman’s
carry so he could still fire a weapon. He ripped the laptop
cords from the wall and shoved the whole octopine mess into
the travel case nearby.
As soon as his burden of limp woman and laptop were
settled, he raised his weapon and headed for his truck.
Only one enemy remained, guarding the get-away vehicle.
When David’s arm jerked slightly as he fired two silenced
rounds into the man’s throat, Noelle didn’t even stir.
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