Page 49 of Wicked Obsession

More gunfire—these shots were in the distance. It had to be either Griff or Mako trying to help. The question was which one was on their side?

A team of mercenaries and a traitor versus him, two allies, and an exhausted hellcat who might have mountain sickness. The odds were against them, but fuck that. If he had any say in this, Langley was walking away alive at the end.

Outcropping number four loomed ahead and Ryder hoped this one provided decent cover because he couldn’t chance dragging her around the mountain much longer.

Substantially better, he decided as they approached. The boulders were huge—the smallest had to be around eight feet—and they were in an oval with enough space in the center to hold a few people safely. Ricochets might be an issue, but they’d have to deal.

As they reached it, Ryder took stock. The front had a large gap, slightly off center, with short bushes in front of it that extended to the sides. The rear of the oval also had a broad opening, although it wasn’t as large as the front. It was barren back there and he didn’t like it as anescape option—too easy to be picked off, especially if someone climbed the nearby slope.

The problem was the amount of cover available for the mercs on the two sides. It wasn’t a forest, but there were a lot more trees here than there’d been for a while and bushes everywhere. Including right up to the left side of the stones. He’d been hoping for a bulwark in a more desolate area.

Another volley of gunfire echoed too fucking close for comfort. That ended the debate. This was the spot. It would have to be good enough.

“Come on, hellcat, let’s get you off your feet,” he said quietly and guided her into the center of the boulders. He helped Langley to the ground next to a rock on the side that was the most protected.

Take her alive.The words replayed in his brain and Ryder scowled. They hadn’t been worried about her being alive in San Diego. What had changed?

Her breathing began to calm, but Ryder’s concern for Langley didn’t lessen. The shortness of breath could have been because of exertion at altitude or it could be a symptom of mountain sickness. If it was the latter, she’d be dealing with dizziness, nausea, and fatigue, and that would impact their options.

Langley’s eyes opened. “What now?” sheasked softly. Too softly.

“Now we hold this position.”

“We’re going to hold it? You and me?”

“I was thinking Stony and me, but if it comes down to it, do you feel like you can shoot?” He wasn’t worried about her ability, not when he dragged her regularly to the gun range to keep her skills honed, but about how sick she felt.

Her brow wrinkled as she considered his question. “Yes, I think—” She stopped short. “Wait a second. You only have one gun. You mean, if you’re incapacitated, can I take your weapon and defend myself, right?”

He shrugged. He’d have to be dead to stop protecting her.

She stared at him without blinking for a long moment. “I’ll do what I need to do,” she said and the determination in her voice told him everything he needed to know. Shit, no matter how often he tried to put her in the princess box, the label didn’t fit. Langley Canfield really was one hundred percent hellcat.

Crouching beside her, Ryder asked, “Do you have my phone?”

Without a word, she reached into the pocket of her jacket and handed it to him.

For an instant, he debated. Did he call the police? Would the locals be able to handle a team of mercenaries comprised of ex-Special Forcessoldiers? Did he have a choice? They were outnumbered and outgunned and needed every bit of help they could get. He thumbed his phone on and realized the point was moot. The signal was being jammed. There was a chance he could get a text out, but—

A sound had him sliding the phone away and moving to the entrance of their rock fortress. He aimed his pistol the direction the noise had come from.

He heard a low whistle—one long, two short—and Ryder’s finger eased slightly off the trigger. A figure emerged from the trees. Stony.

Rowland was armed like some parody of a Hollywood action hero with guns and ammo slung over his chest and shoulders. Unless his eyes were playing tricks on him, it looked as if Stony had acquired a couple of extra tactical vests and helmets, too. His buddy always thought of the details.

Stopping a short distance away, Rowland called quietly, “Okay to approach?”

“Yeah,” Ryder said and lowered his weapon so it wasn’t aimed directly at his heart.

When he reached the enclosure, Stony handed him the vests and Ryder gave one to Langley. “Put that on,” he ordered her. Turning back to Rowland, he said, “Give me a report.”

“I counted seven mercs, including Harp. Twoare down, but that leaves us with half a dozen if you factor in our traitor.”

Ryder glanced quickly at Langley, but she didn’t seem to realize that two down meant Rowland had killed those men. “Unless the other person shooting took some of them out.” He kept his voice low as he shrugged on a vest and fastened it.

Stony divested himself of the ammo he was wearing. “I didn’t see them go down, so I’m considering them active.” He thrust a helmet at him. “Give this to Langley. It’s mine.”

He handed the helmet to her and donned the other, the one with the mercs’ comm gear. Rowland was wearing another of the enemy helmets. “They broadcasting?”

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