TF-S had risked their lives to rescue Mr. J, who at the time had been a valued asset to their team. But J had set up a trap, a staged death to try and cover his treason, and in the process, one of their teammates had been taken captive and killed.
“There were things happening in the CIA, things you didn't know about and wouldn't understand. I had to get out. I was left no choice.” J’s voice radiated serious honesty, but Merc didn't believe a damn word.
“Bullshit. You wanted money and you wanted power and you finally figured out a way to get it. That's all there is to it.”
“Or is there something happening in the government that you don't know about? Something dark and insidious that I could only stop if I went completely black?”
Merc sneered. “The only motivation behind your actions was greed. Now let the girl go. Do something good for once in your goddamn miserable life.”
Mr. J shook his head with patronization, and Merc felt his skin crawl. “What's going to happen is Caroline and I are leaving. I'm not through with her yet, and you – you're going to just stand there and watch. I don't want to kill you. I’ve always thought of you like a son.” J took a step back, hauling Caroline back with him. “I hate that it’s come to this, but I need her more than I need you.”
Caroline paled, her already porcelain skin losing even more color. A hopeless desperation crawling across her fragile features, begging him to save her life.
The need to fire his pistol roared through him.
Dammit. His team wouldn't be here for at least another fifteen minutes. What the fuck was he going to do? Every step J took was another foot between him and his past. Another step closer to losing Caroline.
Caroline glanced down and then back up, her head bobbing with the fierceness of the movement.
No.Merc projected that thought with all his force, wishing he had some secret telepathic ability. If she tried to escape herself — dammit, if she jerked even the slightest to the right — the needle would pierce her flesh.
She frantically looked down and up again, and Merc knew he could no more stop her attempt than he could bring back his memory without J’s help.
With intense focus, the kind born from years of training, he honed in on Mr. J, watching Caroline only in his periphery. The minute she twitched, he’d pull the trigger. Screw it. If J pushed the button, at least the fucker himself would die right along with them. And even though Merc would never get the answers about his past, answers only Mr. J knew, at least Merc would die with the satisfaction of knowing the evil bastard was no longer walking the planet.
Without warning, J shoved Caroline forward, pulled out his own pistol and fired. The loud retort of gunfire boomed in the room. Caroline plunged into Merc’s chest, almost as if she’d been thrown. He caught her before she slid to the ground, her mouth open on a silent scream, her warm, sticky blood oozing over his arm.
His blood froze at her rapidly weakening body, and still he couldn’t help but glance up, searching for J.
“Please, get me out.” She coughed, her nails digging into his arm.
He stared down at her, not speaking, knowing he was a bastard for wishing he could go after J. Knowing that if he saved her, he’d lose the opportunity of finally laying hands on the man responsible for the nightmare of his life.
If he had honor, wouldn’t he choose her without question?Or had J imprinted on him far more than he realized, leaving Merc filled with his own sense of indifference and inhumanity? Merc watched her strength drain and her knees buckle, his arm the only thing holding her upright. He knew she would die if he went after J. Could he sacrifice an innocent person for his own gain, just like the man he despised?
He had to decide — his past and revenge or saving Caroline.
A soft beep pinged. Merc shoved Caroline away from his body, ignoring her agonized moan as he held her at arm’s length. A small digital clock with red numbers started counting down on the vest strapped to her chest. Thirty seconds. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight.
Merc glanced at the empty doorway J disappeared through, longing nearly taking him to his knees. He’d come so close.
The clock timer continued to beep with every second of the countdown. Twenty-two. Twenty-one.
“Get it off,” Caroline’s soft voice rasped with pain.
Mr. J may have pulled off another escape, but Merc wasn’t going to die today, too.
Eighteen. Seventeen. Sixteen.
He ripped his knife from his belt and sliced straight down the front of her chest, taking the risk the bombs weren't pressure sensitive. In one second he ripped the IED from her body and tossed it across the room. The next, he slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, blood running freely now down his arm and chest from her gunshot wound as he sprinted to the balcony.
The digital clock beeped with every step. Merc ripped out the rappelling gun with his left hand, locking his other arm around Caroline's legs like a steel band. He jumped up and over the balcony. Fired the gun. Heard the chink of metal pierce the concrete. Felt the resistance as it slowed his downward fall.
Then he was on the ground, running for the front gate. Guards shouted around them, running in frenzied confusion. Merc pounded across the flagstone, sweat dripping down his face as quickly as Caroline’s blood ran down his body.
His breath was loud and harsh in his own ears; he barely heard the yells of the guards. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Five feet. Almost there.
