Page 7 of First Contact (Guardsmen Security)
Leo shouldered past her, his carbine still trained on the door. Time was bleeding away. He pulled the glass breaker from his tactical vest.
The glass breaker struck true, fracturing the safety glass in a controlled spider web. His hands were steady even as his stomach churned.He delivered two more precision strikes. Not fast enough.
With a growl, he raised his gun and drove the buttstock through the remaining glass. It shattered in heavy chunks.Winter wind whipped in, carrying the distant wail of sirens.
The platform swayed as he swung out, testing its stability. His stomach lurched—not from the height, but from the seconds ticking away. Metal creaked beneath his weight as he did quick mental math. Eight people. The platform was rated for maintenance crews, but this was pushing it.
“It’ll hold. Two at a time.” He reached back through the broken window, forcing his expression to stone despite the urgency clawing at his chest. “Women first.”
One of the male hostages lunged forward, shoving past a woman.
Leo pistoned an arm, catching him hard across the chest. Hot rage flared through him.
We don’t have time for this shit. “Back. Off.” He kept his voice level, though his pulse clamored in his ears.
“Women and injured first. You want to play hero, you can help me cover our exit.”
The man stumbled back, face flushing.
The nearest woman balked, staring down at the swinging edge.
Panic flared in her eyes—panic that would cost them seconds they couldn’t spare.
Leo gentled his voice with effort. “Look at me, not down. I won’t let you fall.
” He gripped her arm, guiding her firmly onto the platform, ignoring the slice of arctic wind numbing every inch of exposed skin.
A second woman followed, tears freezing on her cheeks. Too slow.
Gunfire erupted from the hallway. Kat ran to the door and returned fire as Leo got the woman positioned. The platform groaned under the growing weight. Jesus. If the cables failed, if Burke’s men reached this floor before they cleared it—this would be the shortest rescue op of his career.
He killed the thought and helped another shaking woman through. “Keeplow, against the rail.” Five stories up. Exposed on all sides. A fucking nightmare, but his only shot at getting everyone out alive.
The male hostage who’d tried to push through shifted restlessly from foot to foot. “They’ll be here any second?—”
“Then make yourself useful,” Leo snapped, shoving his second backup sidearm into the man’s trembling hands. “Watch that door with Agent Landon.”
More gunfire erupted from the hallway. Kat took a knee at the stairwell entrance as Leo manhandled the last woman and second man onto the platform.
“Kat. Now!”
She backed toward the window, still firing. Her heel hit empty air and Leo’s heart stopped. He grabbed her waist, yanking her onto the platform. She stumbled against his chest as the entire structure shuddered. The last man scrambled through behind her like his ass was on fire.
Shit.
“Hold on.” Leo hit the control panel, sending up a silent prayer to whatever deity handled overloaded window-washing platforms. The rig jerked, then began its descent with all the speed of an arthritic turtle.
A shadow appeared at the broken window above. Leo shoved Kat behind him. His weapon came up, muscle memory taking over as he took aim. The wind sucked away the gun rapport,but the figure slumped. Another problem down.
The hostages huddled against the railings, eyes squeezed shut.
Leo’s jaw clenched. “Rook, we need cover fire on the east side. Now!”
The platform lurched downward as gunfire erupted from a nearby balcony—the rest of his team providing cover. Thank Christ for small mercies. Leo kept his weapon trained upward, using his body as a shield. He counted each floor of exposed vulnerability as they inched toward the safety of the ground.
“Almost there.”His back itched with the certainty of crosshairs finding them as he willed the platform to go faster.
Come on.
A burst of gunfire pinged off the platform’s metal frame. Leo’s heart almost punched through his ribs. Fuck.
“Contact, north-east corner!” Rook’s voice crackled through his comms. “Two tangos, eighth floor!”
Leo kept his weapon trained upward, hyperaware of the hostages’ whimpered gasps, of Kat crouched against his back. Every breath she took pressed against him, a rhythm that somehow kept him steady in a world gone mad.
Third floor. The platform bucked, then dropped a sickening foot before catching. Someone screamed. Leo’s stomach vaulted into his throat, but his surveillance of the building above them didn’t waver.
Second floor. His muscles burned from maintaining his protective stance, but he’d die before he moved. The weight of responsibility pressed heavier than any physical pain.
“Rook, status on that cover fire?” Another explosion of gunfire swallowed his words—this time from street level.
“We’re having a grand time down here,” Rook’s sardonic drawl crackled through comms. “You’re more than welcome to join us whenever you feel like coming down the stairs like a normal person.”
The platform shuddered as it passed the first floor, then finally—fucking finally—touched down with a bone-jarring clang.
“Go, go, go!” He shoved the hostages toward his waiting team members, scanning for threats as they stumbled to safety. “Kat, move!”
She hesitated, weapon still directed toward the building. Any other time, he’d admire that unflinching focus. Now, it just made him want to throw her over his shoulder.
Comms crackled. “ Nightwatchman secured. All tangos gift-wrapped and tagged,” Rook reported, his voice carrying an edge of grim satisfaction. “Repeat. All tangos down.”
“Acknowledged.” Leo’s eyes swept the windows above one last time. Experience had taught him that over was a dangerous word. Kat’s knuckles were white around her weapon. “Kat. We’re clear.” He held out his hand, trying to ignore how natural the gesture felt.
“Seriously?” She stood up, her skin blanched, her lips touched with blue from the cold. The adrenaline crash was hitting her hard, but her eyes still held the steel he’d noted when he first laid eyes on her.
The urge to pull her into his arms and warm her lips with his surged through him. To forget, just for a moment, all the reasons he couldn’t.
Instead, he helped her off the platform as fresh snow swirled down from the night sky. The moment her boots hit solid ground, he released her hand, ignoring the way he wanted to hold on.
Men like him, men with blood-soaked pasts, didn’t get happy endings.
“Thank you.” She handed him back his gun, her fingers brushing his.
He holstered the weapon, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of her touch. “Anytime.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them. “Perhaps we could meet again, once all this settles.”
She looked him straight in the eye. “I don’t do relationships.”
“Me neither.” His reply was automatic. Honest.
She chewed her lower lip, looking up at him through dark lashes. “I’m not good with people.”
He nodded. He got that.
Her smile, when it came, transformed her face. “My friends call me Kat.” Her tongue darted across her top lip, a gesture that shot straight through him. “But you? Leo or Leonid ?”
The question landed like a physical blow. “You read my file?”
“Not the redacted parts.”A tiny shrug that was pure challenge. “But the rest, yes. I like to be prepared.”
“Leo.”
“Shame. I prefer Leonid .”
Hot fuck. The way her English accent rolled around his full name sent heat down his spine.
She lifted her hands to the sky, palms up to catch the falling snow.
Pure delight softened her expression and as snowflakes melted on her upturned face, he glimpsed who she might be away from all of this.
Someone who could still find magic in winter nights.
The revelation twisted deep in his gut. That woman was the one he would have to let go.
“So, Leonid.” Her grin was playful. “Do you like ice-cream with your hot waffles?”
“Actually, I do.” His mouth went desert-dry as he tucked a flyaway coppery strand behind her ear.
It was just a waffle, right?