One of the STARR operators ducked behind cover nearby. "We've got movement on the east side."
Rocco looked toward him. "How many?"
"Six,” the man said.
Another operator's voice came through the radio. "Eight more on the west."
Dante cursed. "They're boxing us in."
"No." Rocco frowned. "They're leaving one direction open."
Dante followed his gaze to the river. "They want us on a boat."
"Exactly,” Rocco agreed. “But we’re not going to let that happen.”
Lark folded her arms tightly across herself. "I feel like everyone keeps making plans for me." The quiet bitterness in her voice hit Dante harder than the gunfire because she was right. Her father controlled her life, and now, Keller was trying to. Hell, even he had by always deciding things for her and protecting her. Dante had never once asked her what she wanted.
He looked at her. "What do you want to do?"
She blinked at him. "What?"
"What do you want?" he asked again. For a long moment, she simply stared at him. He was sure that nobody had ever asked her that. He could see it in her eyes.
"I don't want to spend the rest of my life running,” she breathed. Neither did he. "I don't want to hide." He nodded. "I don't want another prison." His chest tightened. "And—" She looked toward the Chicago skyline. "I'd like to decide where I sleep tomorrow." Something inside him broke because it was such a simple wish—one he'd taken for granted every day of his life.
"I can do that," he whispered.
She smiled sadly. "You can't."
"No." He shook his head. "But I'll help make sure nobody takes that choice away from you again." She reached over and squeezed his hand, not because she needed protection, butbecause she seemed to need the contact. The realization stole his breath.
A loud engine roared somewhere beyond the warehouses, and Rocco immediately looked toward the sound. "That's not the helicopter."
One of the operators smiled. "No, it isn't." Headlights burst through a chain-link fence at the far end of the dock, and a black armored truck crashed through the opening, scattering mercenaries in every direction. The heavy vehicle fishtailed across the concrete before stopping sideways between Keller's men and the STARR team. Its doors flew open, and four more agents poured out. One woman leaned out of the driver's seat with an assault rifle braced against the window frame.
"Get in!" she shouted as she fired a controlled burst over their heads, forcing Keller's men back.
Rocco actually laughed. "I've never been so happy to see her."
"You know her?" Dante asked.
"Unfortunately,” Rocco drawled.
The woman glared at him. "I heard that." Even from thirty yards away, she had excellent hearing. "Move!" The team surged toward the truck, and Dante kept Lark tucked against his side while operators surrounded them. A sniper round shattered the pavement inches from Lark's feet, and she stumbled. Dante caught her before she fell.
Another shot rang out, this one closer. Without thinking, he turned his body, using himself as a shield. Lark grabbed his jacket. "What are you doing?"
"If they shoot—" he started.
"They'll hit you!" she interrupted.
"Better me than you,” he insisted.
"No." Her voice came out fierce. "No." She shoved against his chest. "We both make it." He stared at her. "You hear me?" Shewas shaking and terrified, yet she still refused to let him sacrifice himself.
"We both make it." His throat tightened. "I'll do everything I can."
"No." She stepped closer. "You promise." The word hit him harder than any bullet could because a promise was something permanent—something real.
