Maya Banks - Whispers in the Dark

 The dull gleam of a pistol secured in his shoulder harness sent her scrambling to yank it free. First she hit him on the back of the head with the butt and then she quickly frisked him for extra clips.

 She felt like doing a double fist pump when she found not only two extra clips, but a smaller Sig Sauer secured to an ankle holster. She pocketed it and the knife from his pocket and then ran for the door.

 She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. Maybe some underground compound. A top-secret government facility in some cave. Or maybe even a basement in some underground Washington D.C. test facility. Whatever she’d been expecting, this wasn’t it.

 She was in a freaking house. A normal-looking house that from all appearances someone lived in. Damn it. She hadn’t thought to frisk the dude for keys to a vehicle. They had to have gotten her here someway.

 She crouched down in the hallway when she heard voices in the next room. The stock of the pistol was slick in her hand and her pulse raced. She didn’t want to have to kill anyone. She wasn’t saying she wouldn’t do it. But it didn’t mean she was ready to start pumping people full of lead. 

On the other hand, these assholes had scared her to death, they’d drugged her and they’d jumped off a cliff into a helicopter. And whatever they’d given her had affected her ability to use her telepathy.

Yeah, she was just pissed off enough to shoot and get the hell out of this place. Wherever this place was.

 She ducked into one of the other rooms, realizing it was a guest bedroom. For God’s sake. Were they in suburbia? This was getting more bizarre by the moment.

 Footsteps passed in the hallway and she knew she only had moments before it was discovered she’d escaped. She ran to the window and forwent trying to be stealthy.

 She kicked out the glass, making a big enough hole that she could get out without being cut to shreds. Then she ducked through and stepped into empty space.

 She barely had time to utter a foul curse before she hit the ground with a painful thump. All the air left her and she couldn’t draw in a single breath. It hurt too much.

 Hell, she’d never even considered that she was in a two-story house. It was dark. She was still disoriented from the drugs. She just wanted to get the hell out of that creepy place.

 Gasping painfully, she rolled and pushed herself to her knees.

 “Damn it, Shea, what the hell are you trying to do, kill yourself?”

 She grabbed the pistol and shot to her feet, backing away from the man who stood a short distance away.

 He held his hands up and took a step forward. “I’m not going to hurt you. Put the gun down so we can talk.”

 She shook her head. “Too late, asshole. This whole ordeal has been anything but a cakewalk. If it’s all the same to you, I’m getting the hell out of here.”

 He frowned and then lunged toward her. She squeezed the trigger, and a moment later, he dropped to his knees holding his arm and wearing a bewildered expression.

 “You shot me.”

 “Well, duh.” Moron.

 She turned and fled, making damn sure she kept a tight hold on the gun.

 “Shea, wait! Don’t go!”

 The man was insane. She was tempted to shoot him again, but the rest of his goons would be after her. She turned and sprinted down the street wondering where she was and how the hell she was going to get back to Nathan.

THEY surrounded the house in the darkness. Nathan was on edge, his unease growing with every minute he was separated from Shea. He worried that his continued efforts to reach her would only weaken her, so he’d controlled the urge to continually call out to her.

 Donovan had gone on a rampage and called in every favor ever owed to him in an effort to track Resnick down.

 Steele and his team were in position. P.J. and Cole were in two of the oak trees on the edge of the property with their sniper rifles. Swanny, Nathan and his brothers were taking the front. Steele and the remainder of his team were taking the back.

 It took all of Nathan’s restraint and military training to sit back and wait for the command to go in. Everything inside screamed at him that his woman was in danger. That these assholes had her. That he should go in and take down everything in his path until he had her back.

 Joe put a hand on his shoulder, a silent gesture of support. Nathan stood there in the dark, seething, readying himself to kill.

 His nostrils flared and his grip tightened on his rifle when Sam held up his hand in silent readiness. Sam gave the silent countdown and then gave the order to go in.

 Much like the onslaught Nathan and Shea had suffered when they’d gone to her parents’ house, KGI went in with the sole intention of overpowering the occupants. Several flash grenades went off. It looked like a staccato of strobe lighting going off throughout the house.

 There were three men in the kitchen surrounding another man sitting in a chair. Resnick. Nathan stared at the blood smeared down Resnick’s arm and felt his stomach bottom out.

 Swanny, Ethan and Joe broke away to clear the rest of the house, while the others blew into the kitchen like a hurricane.

 “Down! Down! Down! Get down!” Garrett yelled.

 The three men hit the floor while Resnick merely raised his arms toward the ceiling. A sound from behind Garrett alerted Sam and he leveled his rifle over Garrett’s shoulder. Garrett and Donovan kept their rifles trained on the men on the floor.

 “Don’t even think about it, Phillips,” Sam growled. “Stand down. This isn’t worth getting your ass shot over.”

 The young Marine’s lips thinned but he lowered his weapon and Sam went to collect it.

 “What the fuck, Phillips? Who the hell are you taking orders from these days?”

 “From me,” Resnick said wearily. “Goddamn it, I need a cigarette.”

 Donovan motioned for the three men on the floor to stay down while Sam went around behind Phillips and patted him down. He then directed him to put his hands behind his head and leave them up where they could be seen.

 Swanny, Joe and Ethan burst into the kitchen just then.

 “Rest of the house is clear,” Ethan said.

 Sam directed him over to cover Phillips and then Sam stalked toward Resnick.

 But Nathan was there first, fury boiling in his veins. Sam stepped in between him and Resnick and shot Nathan a meaningful glance. Yeah, it meant calm his ass down, but it was easy for Sam to think that. If it was Sophie in danger, Sam would be batshit insane.

 “What the fuck, Resnick?” Sam thundered when he turned back to the other man. “Nathan wants your ass on his wall and I’m tempted to let him have at you. I’d be very careful what you do and say over the next little while because he wants to kill you. I want to let him.”

 “Where’s Shea?” Nathan demanded. “Tell me where she is, and if you’ve hurt her in any way, so help me God, you’re a dead man.”

 “She’s not here,” Phillips said from behind them.

 Nathan whirled around, his gaze finding the younger man. “Where the hell is she then? It was you who tossed her over your shoulder and made that dumb-ass jump into the helicopter. You could have killed her!”

 “If my orders were to kill her, she’d be dead,” Phillips said evenly. “My orders were to deliver her safely. I did that. There was never a question of her safety.”

 “Fucking Marines always think they’re such bad-asses,” Ethan muttered.

 Garrett raised his eyebrows at his younger brother but let the insult pass.

 “Where is she?” Nathan bit out again. “I don’t give a shit what your orders were. I only care about where she is now.”

 To Nathan’s surprise, Phillip’s cheeks colored and he fidgeted. Suddenly he didn’t look like the supercomposed, always-follow-orders badass. He looked…embarrassed.

 “She escaped.”

 Seven mouths fell open. Joe stepped forward and stared at Phillips. Then he smirked. “She kicked your ass, didn’t she?”

 “Fuck you,” Phillips muttered.

 “Look, she freaked out when she came around,” Resnick interjected. “I thought we had more time. She came to, Phillips was supposed to see to her, and she escaped.”

 Sam quirked up his eyebrow as sudden understanding flashed across his face. “Is she what happened to your arm?”

 Resnick nodded, his expression still tight with pain. “She shot me when I tried to prevent her escape. Hell, she jumped out of a second-story window. I was worried she was hurt. She basically told me to fuck off and then shot me before she ran like a damn jackrabbit.”

 “Fierce!” Garrett crowed. “I knew I loved that girl. You deserved everything you got, Resnick.”

 “Did you send someone after her?” Nathan asked in a deadly quiet voice.

 Resnick shook his head. “Look, it just happened. I was just sending the men out to find her.”

 Nathan moved in close and stroked the barrel of his rifle down the column of Resnick’s neck until Resnick broke into a sweat. “Your next move is to back the fuck off. Then you’re going to tell us what the fuck you were doing in Shea’s parents’ house. You’re also going to tell us why you’re so goddamn interested in Shea and Grace Peterson. And then you’re going to forget you ever knew anything about either of them.”

 Resnick shook his head, his eyes determined. “I can’t do that.”

 “Why the fuck not?” Nathan snarled.

 Resnick’s head dropped and he let out a weary sigh. “Look, Donovan, can you patch me up here? This arm’s hurting like a son of a bitch and I need to be able to use it. I’ll tell you everything I know while you work.”