She recognized the bastard before he turned, gazed back in her direction, face still half-hidden in shadows, that same, indifferent smile. The kind that screamed psychopath.
Daniel Fraser.
And for the first time since that night, she had him in the crosshairs.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Coulter wedged himself tighter against the dash, doing his best to mold his body to the shape of the footwells. Deep shadows covered the interior, but he doubted he’d be invisible if the guy hovering outside the vehicle looked inside.
The truck rocked, a sharp grinding screech rattling his molars as the crane arm settled, the sudden shift knocking him against the dash. Pain kicked him in the ribs, stealing his next breath as the guy edged closer to the truck before he turned, giving Coulter a glance at his profile backlit by the office light.
The shape of the man’s jaw, the slight bump on his nose… Coulter had spent hours staring at the men who’d been behind Bralorne. While Neve hadn’t shared every detail — an oversight he’d correct as soon as they were alone, again — he’d recognize the main players anywhere. And this asshole was the traitor who’d set it all in motion.
Daniel Fraser.
A dull roar sounded in Coulter’s head as fire burned beneath his skin. Fraser had been the catalyst. The reason Neve’s team had been chosen. The benchmark Oliver Finch had wanted to test his enhanced team against. And it had cost Neve far more than just her career.
Coulter squeezed his hand around the GPS unit he’d finally ripped off the dash. Not his finest work, but the damn thing had been too integrated into the vehicle for a clean extraction, and with time counting down, he’d needed a win.
He just wasn’t sure if the GPS was the win he wanted. Or if slamming the unit against Fraser’s head topped the list.
Coulter pushed out a slow breath, inching back as the truck twisted in the wind, the front end hanging from the claw as the rear tires kicked up a cloud of dust. He’d nearly been clear before the claw had pierced the hood, and he’d tumbled back inside.
Fraser’s hand lingered on the handle, as he stared behind him. Where Coulter bet his ass Neve had made her nest. Not that he believed the other man could actually see her, but Fraser wasn’t an average grunt. He’d made it through Special Forces training only to wash out after a few missions. Attitude, his buddy had said. That Fraser was the kind of guy who’d joined for power. A morally acceptable form of violence.
Coulter hadn’t worked with the jerk, had been too busy with his own team, but he’d heard the rumors. And he didn’t doubt Fraser had sold his soul to Ramsey and Finch for the same reason. Knowing Fraser had willingly taken the drugs Darwin said would eventually kill him just for a brief advantage…
It made Fraser more of a threat than Ramsey because the man had absolutely nothing to lose.
Coulter slipped his Sig out of the holster, the sights centered on where Fraser’s head would be if he opened the door. Not the best solution, but he’d take the shot if necessary. Assuming Neve didn’t kill the guy first.
Cold sluiced through his veins. While he knew Neve and her teammates likely wanted some form of retribution after all Fraser had done, actually having to kill the man — someone she’d considered family — even to protect Coulter might be more of a price than Neve realized. And after all she’d sacrificed — how she’d forgiven him for all the times he’d let her down — he’d do anything to prevent her from having to make that choice.
The handle jiggled as Fraser loomed closer before he took a step toward the rear when someone yelled his name. He spun, his shadowed figure moving beyond Coulter’s sightline for a moment.
The door cracked open as Coulter squeezed the handle, inhaled a swirl of diesel-choked air from the crane. Voices sounded from the other side of the vehicle, one of the men going on about how he’d found a gap in the fence.
Coulter’s cue to move — slink out the passenger seat before closing the door just enough it wouldn’t swing open with the next jarring shift. Long shadows from the crusher stretched across the ground as Coulter landed on the dirt, body pressed against the truck, matching each sway. He crept toward the rear, mapping out a route that would keep him hidden from sight when footsteps crunched toward him from multiple directions.
He froze, ready to dive under the truck, when a dullthutwhooshed past a second before the main light on the crane shattered, glass exploding across the machine in a shower of reflective shards. Another blew a heartbeat later, tiny arcs lighting up the darkness before everything descended into black, just the one light the office brightening the doorway.
A click in his headset had him hoofing it toward the closest pathway, boots barely scuffing the ground. Scout yanked him into the shadows the moment he cleared the edge, her weapon sweeping the yard, as she nodded toward the end of the corridor.
Coulter didn’t talk, just kept moving, something else shattering behind them. Voices rose into shouts, what sounded like several men all racing across the dirt. No return gunfire, but that made sense if their weapons weren’t silenced like Neve’s. Fraser couldn’t risk a confrontation with the police, either, which meant, his men would hunt in silence. Try to take any threat down with knives or hand-to-hand.
Scout nudged him when he stopped at the next junction, scanning both directions. “We go left to get back to the fence line.”
Coulter shook his head. “I heard one of Fraser’s men telling him he found our entry point.”
Scout froze, most of the color draining from her face. “Fraser?” She looked behind her, a harsh rasp escaping. “Daniel Fraser’s here?”
Coulter hooked her elbow. “I know what you’re thinking?—”
“That I can end this with a well-placed bullet between his traitorous eyes? Glad we’re on the same page.”
“Now’s not the time or the place. We need to haul ass to where Neve’s nesting, grab her and get out. Preferably through another exit.”
“There’re two drainage ditches. One on the north side, one on the south. We should be able to shimmy through either culvert. That, or it’s a jacket over the razor wire unless you want to walk down their driveway.”
