Gently, she tugged the girl through the door. The others began to shuffle forward. She held a finger to her lips and said, “Go through the tunnel and get out of here. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.”
As if that was impetus they needed, the children made for the shadows, melting into the entrance to the tunnel.
Sidra pressed the talk pad on her earpiece. “Team Leader, this is Alpha 6. Jewels are on the move. Recover ASAP.”
A squeak of protest from the team leader sputtered through the headset before she cut him off. She didn’t want to hear his pompous reciting of Triad rules and the mission parameters. After all, she’d hear them again from Def before being thrown into solitary.
She glanced about the warehouse. No sign of the other two drones. The hologram was a greater distraction than she anticipated. Or these particular drones were denser than she realized.
One thing was certain, the Techs deserved a medal.
A slight metallic rattle above had her recoiling and settling into a fighting stance. Oops, spoke too soon. She yanked out her Glock and sighted at the direction of the sound.
At nothing.
The rush of air against her face was all the warning she received as a shadow detached itself from the top of the cage and came at her. Sidra swore and stumbled backward. The shadow kicked the gun out of her hand. The weapon hit the floor, metal clanking against cement. She aimed a lethal punch at the mysterious stranger only to find him no longer there.
Strong arms grabbed her from behind, locking her arms to her sides like a vise. She slammed her head back, trying to connect with his nose. A miss, but the momentum threw them both off balance. It was enough to break free.
She spun, and using the advantage of surprise, she leaped at the unbalanced stranger, hooking a foot behind his. That should have knocked him to the ground. Instead, he did some leaping of his own, grabbing hold of an exposed pipe a few feet above his head. He flipped upward, landing on the pipe. She shot him a look of annoyance and was caught off guard when a low rumble came from his chest. Was he laughing at her? She hated to be laughed at. Almost as much as she hated to be ignored.
“Coward. Afraid to be beaten?” she challenged. Good idea, Sidra, bring him back for more.
She eyed her Glock. The nimble bastard was between her and the gun. Like a gymnast, he spun around the pipe and let go, landing on his feet in a smooth motion. A foot swept out and knocked her gun into the darkness. Shred it, that was her favorite gun.
Swinging her gaze around, she narrowed her eyes and thrust out her chin. Now that he wasn’t trying to kick her ass, she saw him clearly. Or at least, clear enough so that she could confirm her initial impression of him being a male. Most definitely male. The form-fitting black suit covering every inch of his body also outlined every inch of his frame, stretching tight over bulging muscles and well-proportioned surfaces.
Yum.
If not for the fighting, she’d be tempted to see what was really under all that unrelieved black. Instead of responding to her taunt, the stranger tilted his head and waited.
“I see. You’re the strong, silent type.” Sidra paused and tilted her own head, mocking his movement. “Probably a good idea. Most strong, silent types are abominably stupid.”
Laughter flowed, low and dark. That was the only sound he made. It was still enough to make her angry. It was that laughing-at-her-thing again.
She kicked out, aiming for his chin, hoping to knock him on his ass so she could leave. Not flee; leave, before the strike team came in. Which, if she knew anything about the team leader, would be very soon.
He dodged her strike and in a blur of movement, grabbed her ankle and twisted, spinning her in mid kick. She came out of the spin, landing on one knee which screamed in protest. Ignoring the shooting pain, she set her body to defend against his next attack. Except…the stranger was gone.
She scanned the immediate area, including above. Not a sign of him. Where had the bastard gone now?
A slight noise from behind gave her a warning but not soon enough to avoid his grab. An arm wrapped around her neck; the other curled around her waist. She struggled, even tried to stomp on his instep but couldn’t break or loosen his vise-like grip.
“Enough games. Who are you?” Her captor’s liquid voice, tinged with an unrecognizable accent, purred up her spine, leaving behind tingles of awareness. “What are you doing here?”
“Bugger off,” she responded, the words forced between clenched teeth. Splendidly male or not, she’d keep her secrets.
Male voices echoed through the warehouse. She froze and noted the stranger did the same. The other two drones were returning. Impeccable timing. He said a few choice words. Interesting and colorful ones. Hmm. She didn’t know any of those.
“I don’t have time for this,” he finished in a clear voice, the accent heavy with anger. Something under the tone sounded familiar to her but she couldn’t place it. Not in the limited time they had. The room whirled as he yanked her around to face him. She looked into the darkness surrounding his eyes. The bright gold of his pupils dominated the mask. That was all she could see of him.
She wasn’t so fortunate.
She groaned silently. Because she hadn’t wanted to frighten the children as she rescued them, her own mask rested on a box near the cage, mocking her empathetic, rather pathetic, decision. The stranger had the advantage. He clearly saw her face. Saw the shoulder-length dark blond hair that stood out in soft spikes, the wide green eyes framed by a spattering of freckles dancing across her nose. Nothing remarkable. Completely forgettable. She suspected not this time.
Something about the way he stared at her... His golden gaze traveled over her face as if he was trying to memorize what he saw. Great. He got a full picture and all she got was dark, full lashes over sun-bright eyes.
He grabbed both her wrists and jerked them together, then bound them with some linga cord and tugged her toward the gloomy corners of the old building.
Ah, a first date.
Sidra thought about struggling but with the drones returning, she didn’t want to call attention to their location or the children’s absence. And, damn it, she had to admit to some curiosity about this man who had disarmed her so thoroughly and seemed so familiar to her on a subconscious level.
Of course, Control might be interested in knowing what other agency tracked the Dealers. Returning with this information could give her points for good behavior. Keep her out of Def’s hands. Out of solitary. Or worse, sitting at a desk.
Worth a shot.
As they slipped through the shadows, reverberating shouts alerted her to the Dealers return, subsequent discovery of the empty cage and tussle with the Triad strike team. She hoped the children had been smart enough to go all the way through the tunnel.
She thought briefly of the girl, her old eyes and scrawny body. If it had not been for this hulk of a man dragging her around, she would have gone back for the girl. A set to the girl’s jaw and proud stance reminded Sidra so much of herself at that age.
Tough. Independent. Arrogant.
Idiotic.
Young Sidra, so contemptuous of others. So sure she knew all the answers. So wrong.
She wanted to find that little girl. A piece of herself. Someone she could save. Like she’d been. Someone who shouldn’t have to go through what she went through before Norah.
A sharp tug on the bonds sent her stumbling forward almost into the back of the stranger. Ducking under the top frame of a small opening, he went out first, and then pulled her forward.
She tripped on the doorjamb. He caught her by the elbow, keeping her from crashing into the metal. Annoyance flared. Okay, so she wanted more information about him but she was getting plenty pissed at being dragged around.