Page 24 of Alien Mercenary's Wife
Then her left hand cramped.
The muscle spasm hit without warning, fingers curling into a useless claw just as one of the enemy popped up out of cover behind a concrete barrier thirty meters ahead. She hissed and holstered the pistol before she dropped it. Instantly, she half-turned, lifted her remaining weapon, and fired.
"Captain!" Tank’s warning came a heartbeat before the world exploded.
Heavy weapons fire erupted from three directions, turning their path into a maze of ricochets and flying debris.
Reese dove for cover behind a shipping container. The servo motors in her exo-legs whined as they compensated for her failing balance, keeping her upright when her body decided to stage another small rebellion.
“Stay down!” T'Raal bellowed as he moved through the gunfire like he was dancing, impossible grace that made mere human reflexes look pathetic by comparison.
She couldn't stop watching him, even as bullets cracked past her position. The way he flowed from cover to cover, the controlled violence in every gesture—it was beautiful. Mesmerizing in ways that had nothing to do with professional admiration and everything to do with the way her body responded to watching pure masculine competence in action.
His rifle cracked with deadly accuracy, each shot dropping a target with the efficiency of someone who'd been killing professionally for longer than she could imagine.
A hostile tried to rush him from the right flank. She caught her breath as red dots appeared in the center of T'Raal’s broad back. She opened her mouth to yell a warning, scrambling forward to get a shot off. She didn’t get the chance.
The big alien’s head snapped around, catching sight of the enemy in his peripheral vision. He wheeled away, moving with inhuman speed as he closed the distance. Knocking the man’s rifle aside, he wrapped his enemy up in what looked like a dancer’s move, twisting and spinning the guy until his arm was around the human’s neck. One sharp crack later and the body dropped to the dirt as the Lathar span away again, returning to his firing position. No wasted motion. Just brutal, applied violence.
She watched the entire sequence unfold in what felt like slow motion, her heart hammering against her ribs. Gorgeous and deadly. The combination should have terrified her. Instead, heat pooled low in her belly. Totally inappropriate.
"Keep moving!" T’Raal bellowed as something big and loud buzzed them overhead. “Our ride’s here!”
She pushed herself to her feet and they ran again, pushing through the kill zone with desperate speed. Her breath rasped in her ears, her muscles screaming at her as the motors in her legs whined under the extra stress. They skidded around a corner onto an old parking lot. In the center, a squat, ugly-looking combat shuttle was waiting for them.
She’d never seen anything so beautiful.
That's when the sniper found his mark.
The round struck her left exo-leg servo, and it died instantly, leaving her biological leg to handle the full weight load. She yelped as pain exploded up her thigh.
She stumbled, fought for balance, felt herself starting to fall?—
Strong arms caught her before she hit the ground.
“Hold on!”
T'Raal lifted her like she weighed nothing, cradling her against his chest as he ran.
Being carried should have been humiliating. Should have been a reminder of how far she'd fallen from the woman who'd once commanded a combat unit. Instead, pressed against his chest, she felt something else entirely.
Safe.
The realization shocked her with its intensity. When was the last time she'd felt genuinely protected rather than just protected by her own careful planning and superior firepower?
His heartbeat was steady and strong beneath her cheek, unaffected by the physical exertion of carrying another person while being shot at. Alien physiology had advantages beyond enhanced reflexes and superior senses.
"Contact front," Tank called out, her rifle already swinging toward new threats. "Moving to intercept."
T'Raal shifted Reese's weight to one arm—one arm, like she was a child rather than a grown woman in full combat gear—and drew his sidearm. His first shot took the lead trooper between the eyes. His second and third shots dropped two more before they could acquire targets.
“Get your asses in here!” The woman standing on the lowered cargo ramp of the alien shuttle opened fire with a heavy machine gun.
She was tall and lean with flame-colored hair, her expression focused as she cut down anyone threatening them with methodical precision.
"Move your asses, people," the woman called out over the weapon's roar. "Pursuit's right on your tail."
T'Raal sprinted across the open ground with Reese still cradled against his chest, Tank running behind them. Bullets cracked past them, close enough to feel the air displacement.
