Page 2 of Black Bay Protector
He narrowed his eyes, assessing his opponent once more. Plenty of determination on that hard face but no sign of deceit. His eyes flicked to the currently holstered Beretta M9, the sheathed KA-BAR, and the automatic rifle slung across his back. The corporal was similarly armed but none of that would deter him if it came down to a fight. He’d take their weapons and neutralize the threat within moments. But he couldn’t do that if they sedated him.
With a growl, he straightened from his crouch. “I’ll walk.” And if this was a trick, he’d kill them.
Chapter One
Presentday
Bellock Medical Center, Ithaca, NY
He’d messed up. A bullet zinged by his head so close he could feel the heat of it on his ear before it pinged against the metal of an HVAC unit on this roof. Ducking, Jace altered course, zigging and zagging to avoid being hit.
Stupid. So stupid. He knew better than to let his emotions get the best of him, yet here he was. When he’d heard intel that Doctor Dietrich might be up to her old tricks again, he’d immediately volunteered to go investigate. Information only. That had been his mission parameters. Stake out the facility, watch, wait, and if he got a positive ID on the doc, he was supposed to call it in. That’s where he’d fucked up. His third day in, he’d seen her – his old torturer and the closest thing to a mother he’d ever had – his mind had gone a bit haywire. All he could picture was her with another group of children, innocent babies, held in cages and at the mercy of those sadistic fucking scientists.
He didn’t call it in. He waited until dark and then went in on his own. He had planned to copy their files, find out where those children were, and get them the hell out of there.
From his research, the massive sprawl of the eight-story building was a legitimate medical complex with specialized doctors that ranged from ear, nose, and throat, to orthopedic surgeons, cardiologists, and a cancer treatment wing. What he’d been interested in, however, were the top two floors that were off-limits to the public. Research and development. If Doctor Dietrich was involved, Jace would bet his left nut that the research was shady as shit and what she was developing was nothing ethical.
He’d gotten in no problem thanks to all the fancy little gadgets the government supplied him and his people to make them the most effective black ops team out there. Found the servers, and got the files copied. That shit was encrypted nine ways to Sunday, but he’d sent it off to Lark as soon as the download was complete. If anyone could crack it, she could. What he hadn’t found, were any containment cells and he’d wasted precious time searching, desperate to find out if there were any kids.
Maybe he’d tripped a silent alarm during the download, but he’d been made, and these guys, whoever they were, weren’t playing. There’d be no questions. NoWhat are you doing here?OrHow did you get in?They were shooting to kill and using suppressors to not wake the neighbors. No ordinary rent-a-cop security, that was for sure. Further proof, as far as he was concerned, that whatever Doctor Dietrich was up to was far from legit. Jace would have taken cover and returned fire but dead bodies caused too many questions. Better to just make a run for it and save any killing as a last resort.
Another bullet whizzed by far too close to his head, but he was almost to the edge of the roof. The next building was staff housing that was three stories lower than the building he was currently on and about twenty-five feet away, but that was a jump he could make easily. Kind of ironic that he owed that skill to Mommy dearest. His pursuers, however, were normal, human, unable to clear the distance, and would have to go down and around, buying him all the time he needed to get away.
A work of a moment to calculate his trajectory and he was leaping into the air. A bullet struck his side, and another punched into his thigh, throwing him off course. Fuck. He was going to miss the roof. His eyes arrowed in on his likely landing point. A railed balcony with a small table that had a closed umbrella, two chairs, and beyond that, sliding glass doors. Shit. This was going to hurt.
Jace braced for impact.
Paige sat bolt upright in her bed, clutching the blanket to her chest. Her heart was pounding, racing… that noise. It sounded like an explosion. Turning her eyes quickly to the window, she half-expected to see flames shooting up from the building next door. Nothing. Everything was clear and quiet, as it should be at this hour, yet she hadn’t dreamt that. Had she?
Throwing off the covers, she got up and, not bothering to dawn her slippers or robe, cautiously padded her way into the living room. What the hell? Her sliding glass doors that led out to her balcony were gone, just obliterated. The wood framing was splintered and hanging in places, the umbrella from her patio table was now in her living room, snapped in half, and the top end was hanging limply over the arm of her couch. There was glass everywhere, and in the middle of that field of debris, there was a large, dark shape.
What in the world…
She flipped on the closest lamp to get a better look, and that dark shape groaned.
Shit, shit, shit. That was a person! She was on the fifth floor. How did they even get up here? But there was no time to speculate. Not when a puddle of blood was rapidly pooling on her carpet. Rushing forward, she winced as glass shards cut into her bare feet and then dug into her equally bare knees as she threw herself down next to that prone body.
It was a man, she now saw, dressed all in black, a black knit cap pulled low on his head. He was face down, his head turned to the side, his eyes closed. Quickly, she checked for a pulse. The strength of the rhythmic beating beneath her fingertips reassured her, and she expelled a relieved breath. Where was he injured?
Locating the wet area of his T-shirt and the hole in the fabric, she wished she was gloved up, but there was no time to waste. Paige latched onto the soaked cotton and ripped it open. Gunshot wound to his side, just below his rib cage. She needed to call an ambulance. Where was her phone?
She was just gaining her feet to go grab her cell from where it was charging on her nightstand in her bedroom when the skin around that gunshot wound began to move. Paige blinked and then stared. Surely she was mistaken… But no, there. It moved again, the skin around it undulating and then the hole puckered. Nightmare images of bugs emerging from his flesh had her mouth going dry with fear as she continued to look on in horror. A moment later, something popped out, but not bugs. It was… the bullet? Kneeling back down, she went to inspect the slug of bloody metal thinking she must surely be hallucinating when the wound on the guy’s side suddenly sealed itself up and disappeared. No mark, no scar, nothing. It was as if it had never existed.
Impossible.
There was blood still on his skin and on her floor. Real blood. And this bullet she was holding between her fingers was real. It had substance. It was hard and warm, and wet, yet the wound she had seen it emerge from, clear as day, was now gone.
Ambulance, she reminded herself. Whatever freaky bit of magic this was, she’d figure it out later. Right now, her patient needed an ambulance.
Paige pushed herself up on wobbly legs. Before she could take a step, her front door exploded open, pieces of wood flying as the locks tore free from their moorings. She screamed. Twisting awkwardly, her arms shot up to cover her head in self-preservation but she still saw the men streaming in. They were dressed like police officers in full riot gear and they were pointing guns at her.
She raised her hands above her head.
They didn’t announce themselves as police should have, and they didn’t holster their weapons. Through the muddle of confusion her mind had become, she heard one of them say, “We’ve got him.”
Him. They were here for him, not her. Of course not her. She’d never even gotten so much as a parking violation, much less anything that would warrant this sort of response. But she couldn’t feel any relief, not yet, not with so many guns still pointed in her direction.
“What about her?”
