Cole bit back a retort, then got into the position Nash usually took. Whatever. The sooner he stopped yakking, the sooner they could get this done. Flint opened the door and Nash burst in first with the rest of the team on his six.
“FBI! Get down on the ground!” Nash shouted, his rifle pointing ahead.
Cole surveyed the scene, looking for threats. There weren’t any. The VIP was tied to a chair in the corner of the room, his hands secured behind his back, his mouth gagged. His kidnappers were sitting around arguing. None of them were holding their weapons and it took them a moment to register what was happening. Their eyes widened as they took in the SWAT team and all but threw themselves onto the floor.
Then Cole saw the woman.
And as their eyes met, the air whooshed out of him as if one of the guys had sucker punched him. She was beautiful beyond compare, with big brown eyes and long dark hair that shone like glass. He’d never truly understood the term breathtaking before that very moment, but he was so in awe of the woman, he could hardly breathe. Despite the slenderness of her body, there was strength in her eyes—eyes she hadn’t taken off Cole for a single second. She was utterly captivating.
His wolf started singing in delight, howling and yipping with glee. Cole was just starting to understand what the things he’d been feeling could mean when Ice shouted at the woman.
“You, too! Get down on the ground!”
Her eyes widened in alarm, then she hurried to comply and get down on the floor on her stomach. The indignity of it made Cole nauseous and the scent of her fear nearly brought him to his knees. He saw red. He charged forward and drew his fist back, then slammed it into his teammate’s jaw, and as it connected with Ice’s face, one word echoed in Cole’s mind.
Mine.
