Page 51 of Elite Metal: Warriors

“I just received a call from James Halsey.”

Benedict stilled. Halsey was one of their contacts with the NSA. Though he was technically retired, he still did contract work for the agency and was a valuable asset to Elite Metal, providing intel to the team in their hunt for Red Wolf. Halsey had lost friends in that clusterfuck too. “And?”

“James was on his way to collect an informant when he called me. He suspected he was being followed and he asked if we could provide backup in the event he was compromised. The informant has vital data on Vladimir Babikov.”

Tension hummed; danced up his spine. Fuck. Red Wolf himself. The bastard.

“We need that intel. We need that informant.” Titanuim went on to provide the details of the mission. The contact’s name, address and exit strategy. Benedict’s mission was to get the woman out of DC and escort her to the team HQ in Forney for debriefing.

Fuck yeah. Excitement sizzled in his veins. Enough morose ruminating about the past. It was time to leap into action.

* * *

Michelle stared at her phone as the realization that Ralley was watching her every move—had been watching her every move—whipped through her in a howl of horror. She should have known. She should have guessed.

She was well aware of ASTCORP’s capabilities—of the sensitive information they collected and processed…and how they got it. She should have assumed Ralley would keep the same leash on his employees.

The thought of being watched, listened to, spied on infuriated her.

“Fuck you, Ralley,” she snapped, though he had long ago ended the call. She was certain he heard. He had ears everywhere.

The hell she would wait here for someone to come and collect her.

If Ralley knew everything—and she had to assume he did—she’d never walk away from such an encounter.

She went inside and yanked the curtains closed, even though she knew, if Ralley had eyes on her, he’d be using a thermal scan as well. Still, shutting him out made her feel better. Then she quickly collected her purse, cash stash and a change of underwear—as well as a knife from the kitchen—and headed for the door.

She had no idea where she was going, other than away, but that would make it harder for Ralley to find her. She didn’t have family or friends outside work. No predictable patterns. She’d slip away in the night to the bus station or the train station and hop on the first transport out of town. Wherever it was going, she would—

She froze as the horrifying sound of a lock snicking shot through the silent room.

Her eyes widened. She lifted the knife.

Hell! Why hadn’t she turned off the lights?

The door eased open with an eerie creak. No one stood in the opening, but Michelle knew better. Someone was there. The barrel of a Sig appeared, capped with a long silencer. Michelle sucked in a breath and ducked back against the wall. When a hand emerged, she slashed it with the knife and, when the gun clattered to the ground, she executed a roundhouse kick into the doorway in the spot she assumed a face might be.

She got it right. Her assailant flew back with a bellow, slamming into the wall in the hallway. She bolted forward through the door, but he rallied quickly and caught her around the waist. With a howl, she kneed him in the crotch and gave him a healthy punch to the kidneys. She knew all the spots where a man was weak. She’d been trained for hand-to-hand combat since birth.

But he was trained too, and he was bigger. Stronger. A stocky, burly sort with a squashed in face and piggy eyes. And speaking of piggy eyes, when he slammed into her, launching them both back into her apartment onto the floor, she gouged at his.

His response was a clout to her cheek.

It stunned her, but only for a moment.

A moment too long.

He captured both her wrists in one hand and pulled a long KA-BAR from its sheath. Despite the black surface, it glinted in the light.

The bastard smiled then, revealing a hatred for dentistry. “He wanted you alive, bitch,” he growled in a thickly accented voice. Russian, if she wasn’t mistaken. Funny what little details filtered in when one was about to die. “It wouldn’t be hard to convince him this couldn’t be helped.”

It was disturbing, the way his eyes gleamed as he set the blade to her neck, as though slicing it would bring him a great deal of pleasure.

A flicker of movement behind him caught her attention and her gaze shot to the doorway. She didn’t even bother to wince when his compatriot appeared. It was hardly a surprise. These sorts rarely worked alone.

She didn’t know why her focus locked onto the newcomer’s face, why something rose within her, a wail of denial, a wash of regret. Because he was, this second villain, drop dead gorgeous.

In that second, that fleeting moment of time before she died, a great wave of sadness swamped her. In another world, another universe, another dimension, if such things existed, she would want a man like him. He was tall. Broad. Beautiful.