Colt inhaled as a hushed click sounded behind the door. He shook his head, looked at the time. Five seconds left.
He grabbed her arm. “You damn near gave me a heart attack, sweetheart. Don’t do that, again.”
“No promises.”
“How did I know you’d say that?” He motioned toward the entrance. “So, it’s safe to go in?”
“I’ve put the cameras between the upper and lower three floors on a loop. We have ten minutes before they’ll revert back to live footage. McCormick likes to be able to get to a few places without being filmed. If we’re in any of the hallways when they snap back on…”
“That dead scenario happens.”
“More like we’ll probably wish we were dead. That’s assuming there aren’t armed men standing in the hallway directly behind this door. I can’t control the roving patrols.”
“Great. Fine...stay behind me.”
She glared but allowed him to palm the handle—turn it. Brett had his gun at the ready, senses on high alert. If there was a patrol behind the door, he’d have a few seconds to eliminate them before they reacted—realized it wasn’t McCormick walkingthrough. And that meant being three steps ahead. Already planning on how he’d take the assholes out, first, then spin in case backup mysteriously arrived from behind—all the while keeping Ellis shielded at any cost. Make sure he took any shots if that’s how it had to go down.
He glanced back at her, nodded, then moved. Two seconds, and he had the door open, was going in high, knowing Ellis would follow low. That it would keep her out of any sight lines. Another two seconds, and he’d cleared the hallway—turned to face the door in case some jackass would pop up from behind. If maybe McCormick, himself, would suddenly walk through.
Nothing. No men. No ambush. Just silence.
And his damn pulse pounding inside his head. Shit, he was better than this. His heart rate should be flattening out—going into full soldier mode. Steady. Calm. Completely removed. Except that he didn’t have Cannon or Six backing him up. Wasn’t teamed up with Bishop, or Midnight. Didn’t have Ice waiting a few hundred yards off to rush in if things went sideways, and he or his teammates started dropping.
He had Ellis. Skilled. Fearless. Smarter than all of his team put together... And the one person he couldn’t allow to get hurt. Not that he ever wanted Cannon or one of his buddies to get injured. But…it had been a possibility every time they went outside the wire. That shit could go sideways—that no amount of preparation or skill could prevent a dynamic situation from turning ugly. And they’d all made peace with it. Knew their brothers would do whatever they could to help them—save their asses. But, sometimes, bad shit happened.
That wasn’t an option where Ellis was concerned. She wasn’t allowed to die. Not on his watch. Sure, maybe sixty years from now, but not like this. When it would be his mistake. His fault. When he’d have to live knowing he’d let her down. Again.
Not happening. If that meant dancing around her like a damn ballerina in order to cover every angle—block any possible shot—he’d two-step with the best of them down every hallway. She didn’t have to like it. Hell, she could tear a strip off his ass if she wanted—as long as she was alive to do it, he’d take it.
Ellis crossed her arms once Brett had triple checked every direction—assured himself they really were alone. One perfectly sculpted brow arched as she stared at him. “Are you done making a fool of yourself or should I give you more room to spin?”
“Wanting to keep you safe isn’t being foolish.”
“No. But putting your own safety at risk because you don’t trust me to have your back, is.”
“This isn’t about trust. It’s about you breathing. If there had been a patrol in here?—”
“Then, we both would have reacted. Eliminated them. You can’t do it all on your own. This won’t work unless we’re partners.”
He clenched his jaw but nodded. “I really hate it when you’re right. Old habits, I guess. Which way?”
“Elevator, end of the hall. Down two floors then over to the north side. Room’s in the corner.”
“Lead on.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ellis had walked the halls in the facility dozens of times. But darting down them, now, Brett at her side, body primed for one of the patrols to suddenly appear in front of them, brought their whole mission into sharp focus.
They had one shot. Any miscalculation. Any error in judgment on her part, and she’d be the reason Brett died. Especially since he was determined to keep her safe. Jump in front of a bullet—a stream of bullets. Anything and everything, including grenades. Ellis had no doubts he’d throw himself on top of one—any sacrifice if it meant she’d live.
She couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t lose him, again, whether their partnership lasted the next fifty years or the next five hours. She’d never survive it. Once had rendered her emotionally scarred, and she’d spent five years operating on autopilot. Going through the motions, living for the next mission. Content that he was still out there. Protected by his team.
She’d use those five years to her advantage, now. Every skill, every bit of training at her disposal to ensure they walked out of there. Alive. Together.
The thought had her laser-focused. Moving down the corridor as if she belonged there. She knew McCormick. He trusted fewer people than she did. Only a handful of his agents would know she’d gone rogue. Had a kill order on her. And he’d keep those men close. At his side, not roaming the halls of a building he’d never imagine she’d sneak into. Not after the other night with the wet squad. With more hunting her, right now. If a patrol appeared, she’d just act as if she was dropping off more intel or assets. Engage only when needed.
Brett followed her lead, pressing his shoulders down then walking with confidence. He was completely calm. Focusing forward instead of trying to study the surroundings. A dead giveaway that he hadn’t been here, before. Which might lead to questions she couldn’t answer.
