Maya Banks - Forged in Steele

Steele hurried forward, turning the unconscious woman over. His fingers ran up her side and came away with blood. Just a graze. Thank God. Her parents would be pissed if their daughter came home with a bullet hole courtesy of KGI.

Dolphin squatted beside Steele and put his fingers to Garza’s neck.

“Our exit has just been moved up,” he said grimly. “Garza’s dead. Word is he has the local police in his pocket. Shit’s going down all over this place. P.J. and Cole are playing ducks in a row, picking off assholes left and right. Baker and Renshaw just set explosives by the back wall because we can’t go out the front. We have three minutes until it blows and then we have to get the hell out, boss man.”

“She didn’t want to go,” Steele said, shaking his head. “He didn’t give a shit about her. Tried to use her as a shield.”

“What a dick,” Dolphin said in disgust.

“Yeah and she still tried to take a bullet for him.”

Dolphin glanced at Steele and frowned. “You’re bleeding. What the hell happened?”

“Tangled with a knife,” Steele said shortly. “Get the girl. You’ll have to carry her. I’ll cover you.”

“Well, fuck. We can’t take her home like this. Her parents will shit a brick.”

Steele sighed, knowing they weren’t far from Maren Scofield. Fuck it all, but the last thing he wanted to happen was to schedule an unexpected visit to the blond doctor.

She bugged him. Got under his skin. Hell, it prickled anytime he was near her. Like ants under his skin, crawling from the inside out.

“As soon as we get to the chopper, get on the horn to our pilot,” Steele bit out. “Tell him we’ll be making an unscheduled stop.”

Dolphin slung his rifle over his shoulder, shoved his pistol into his holster and then reached down to carefully pick up the still-unconscious woman.

“Stay close,” Steele said tersely. “You hit the dirt if anything goes down. Don’t try to be a fucking hero with the girl in your arms. If she dies, we’re fucked. I’ve never lost a subject and I’m damn sure not starting now.”

“You da boss.”

Steele rolled his eyes at the irreverence in Dolphin’s voice. Not that it was anything new. Steele would go to his grave before he’d ever admit that he was pretty damn fond of Dolphin’s attitude and his ability to lighten almost any situation with his quirky humor. Steele took ribbing from his team for having no sense of humor, but hell, why did he need one when he had Dolphin, P.J. and Cole? Between those three, they were more of a circus than a military ops team. But they got the job done and that was all that mattered to him.

They dealt with shit on a daily basis that normal people never even dreamed of. If this was their way of coping and staying sane, he was down with their shenanigans. Even if they pushed his buttons on a regular basis.

He pushed ahead of Dolphin and headed for the doorway onto the balcony. He ducked low, motioning for Dolphin to do the same as he examined the perimeter for any potential threat.

“Nine o’clock,” Steele said sharply. “Get down!”

Steele raised his gun and aimed through the slats in the railing, squeezed off two rounds and downed two men who were crossing the veranda by the pool. He gestured for Dolphin to pick up the pace and they scrambled down the stairway.

“Status,” he barked into his mic. “Dolphin and I are coming out the back. We have the subject. Need cover. Clear a path and get your asses in gear.”

“Way ahead of you, boss man,” Baker piped in. “P.J. and Cole have cleaned house. Renshaw and I are positioned at the back gate ready to blow this sucker. Give me thirty seconds. Maintain your current position until this shit blows.”

Steele and Dolphin both ducked, providing cover for the woman with their bodies as they crouched at the bottom of the steps, using the wall to shield them from debris from the impending explosion.

On cue, the blast bellowed over their ears. The ground shook and pieces of metal and stone rained down like a hailstorm.

“Damn, they know how to get it done,” Dolphin muttered. “They may have used a little too much C-4.”

“You think?” Steele said dryly. “Let’s move.”

Coughing from the cloud of dust and decimated concrete, they ran toward the gaping hole in the stone wall surrounding the pool area.

“Hope to fuck the others are in position so we can get the hell out of here,” Steele said in terse tones.

“Cool your jets. We’re on it,” P.J. snapped.

Steele shook his head. Temperamental woman. That much never changed, thank God. She was back where she belonged. He’d never said as much—he wouldn’t offer her that kind of disrespect or lack of confidence in her abilities—but she’d worried him coming off her solo mission of revenge. Besides overcoming multiple injuries, her emotional and psychological trauma had been off the charts. If it had been up to him, he would have grounded her another few months. Only she wasn’t having any of it, and if she was taken out it meant he lost Cole too. No damn way he was going to operate two team members short.

“Glad to have your cranky ass back, Rutherford,” Steele said in an uncharacteristic display of humor.

There was complete radio silence. And then, “Holy shit, did he just crack a joke?” Baker asked aghast.

“Hey, that’s Coletrane now,” Cole complained. “She married me, remember? Pretty damn sure the paperwork says she’s Penelope Jane Coletrane now.”

“I’m going to kick your fucking ass, Cole!” P.J. snapped.

“Penelope Jane?”

Steele couldn’t tell who said what because it all came in three directions followed immediately by hoots of laughter and instant jibes. Jesus Christ. They weren’t out of the woods yet and his entire team was acting like it was a night out in a bar.

“I need everyone to shut the fuck up and make the rendezvous point with the chopper,” Steele snapped. “You can bicker later.”

Steele set a rapid pace but was careful to keep Dolphin and his charge close behind him so he was shielding them both with his body. Baker and Renshaw fell in, closing ranks around Dolphin.

Blood dripped in a steady stream from Baker’s face, splattering the ground and leaving a visible blood trail.

“How serious is it?” Steele barked in Baker’s direction, his gaze never stopping its sweep of the terrain.

“Bleeding like a fucking pig. I have no idea,” Baker bit back. “Can’t feel a damn thing at the moment and my ears are ringing like a son of a bitch.”

“I told his dumb ass to get farther back from the blast zone,” Renshaw muttered. “I didn’t have the time to calculate the strength of the explosives so I went for more than I guessed was necessary.”

Steele swore. Just what he needed. Another out-of-commission team member when he’d only just gotten his team back together after two months of training rookie recruits and being bored out of his mind.

“We’ll be making a pit stop to see Dr. Scofield. She can check you and the woman over. Make sure it’s nothing serious and then we can get the hell home and collect a paycheck.”

Renshaw caught up to Steele and cast a quick glance at Steele’s arm. “And you too, boss man. Looks like you have a boo-boo too.”

Steele’s lips curled in impatience. “It’s fine.”

Renshaw shrugged. “Hey, if you don’t want to get checked out by the pretty doctor, your loss. I’m sure Baker won’t be complaining.”

Steele sent Renshaw a quelling look that instantly silenced his teammate. If the damn girl hadn’t thrown herself in front of a bullet for an asshole who didn’t give a shit about her, they wouldn’t even be stopping in to see Dr. Scofield. And now he had Baker to worry about.

He glanced back at his teammate to see Baker shaking his head, blood sliding down his cheek and onto the ground. He was still trying to get his bearings, obviously, but from what Steele could see, it didn’t look serious. That didn’t mean he didn’t have a concussion or a possible injury that Steele couldn’t see, but he was going to remain optimistic that it was just a few cuts and scrapes and nothing that would require downtime.

Steele had had enough downtime for a lifetime. He was ready to be back in action, preferably with his team at full strength.

They burst through a patch of dense foliage and into a clearing where the helicopter waited. P.J. and Cole were already there. P.J. was wearing a scowl and Cole was grinning. He did that a lot around P.J. now. Where before he’d attempted to maintain strict professionalism between them at all times, now that he’d convinced P.J. to marry him, Cole had dropped any semblance of keeping emotional distance from her during missions. A fact that P.J. still wasn’t taking well.

Steele bit back a smile, knowing if his team saw it, they’d think he’d lost his mind. If nothing else, P.J. and Cole provided plenty of comic relief in otherwise tense situations.

“Let’s load and go,” Cole called. “This bitch is ready to get into the air.”

“I’ll radio the jet pilot, tell him we’ll be delayed. We can land the chopper close to Maren’s village,” Renshaw said as they approached the others.

Steele nodded.

“What the fuck happened to you, Baker?” P.J. demanded.

“Explosives,” Baker muttered as he palmed one ear and pushed like he was trying to dislodge something.

“That’ll do it,” P.J. said.

Dolphin went ahead carrying the girl and P.J.’s eyes widened. “Do I even want to know?”

“No,” Steele said tersely. “Load up. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

MAREN Scofield patted the child on the arm after applying gauze over the site where she’d drawn blood and offered a reassuring smile. She nodded when the parents offered their gratitude and gave them instructions to continue her care at home.