Page 24 of France Face-Off (Brotherhood Protectors International #6)

Larger than the two women, Striker couldn’t risk sliding beneath the pipe and getting stuck. He ran to a nearby ladder that would take him up and over the pipe to the other side.

Griff ran up behind him. “Go. I’ve got your back.”

Striker mounted the ladder, pulled himself up to the top of the pipe and peered over the other side.

The two women struggled for dominance over the gun and appeared to be equally determined and strong enough to emerge as the winner.

Striker couldn’t let Natalya get the upper hand.

He’d come to have feelings for Alex, the spitfire black-haired beauty.

She’d made him feel more in the last twenty-four hours than he had in a long time.

Her dogged pursuit of her parents’ murderers had led her to him.

He had to believe she’d been sent to him for a reason.

She’d given him hope and the reason he’d been spared when his teammates hadn’t survived.

Striker slung his leg over the top of the ladder and hurried down the other side, his heart pounding in his chest.

Griff was right behind him, clambering down the metal ladder.

Alex and Natalya fought for control of the gun. Suddenly, they spun around, the gun pointing outward toward Striker and Griff.

Natalya fired a round. The bullet went wide.

Was the woman insane? If a bullet penetrated one of the pipes, there was no telling what might happen.

Striker skipped the last few rungs and dropped to the ground.

“I’m. So. Over. This,” Alex said as if gritting out words between clenched teeth. She grabbed Natalya’s arms and rolled backward, planted her feet in Natalya’s gut and flipped her into the air.

The other woman landed hard on her back, and the gun dropped from her hand.

Alex leaped to her feet and rushed toward Natalya.

Before Alex reached her, Natalya grasped the gun and pointed it at Alex.

Striker dove for Alex, knocking her out of range of Natalya’s aim.

Natalya fired.

A sharp stinging pain pierced Striker’s midsection. The bullet meant for Alex found a mark in him. He hit the ground, rolled over and came back up on his feet in a crouch.

Another shot rang out. Natalya’s eyes rounded, and her mouth formed an O. The gun fell from her fingers, and she looked down at her chest, where blood spread across her royal purple dress. She looked across at Alex and Striker and cried, “Noooo.”

Natalya fell backward and lay still.

Griff crossed to the woman, holstering his weapon. He bent and felt the base of her throat. After a moment, he looked up. “She’s dead. Time to leave.”

Striker clutched a hand to his side as he pushed to his feet. He held out his other hand to help Alex up from the floor.

She stood, her brow dipping low as she stared at where he held his hand to his side. “You’re bleeding.”

He retained his hold on her hand. “I’ll survive,” he said. “The main thing is to get the hell out of here before the entire German police force and army come down on us.”

“We’re in Germany?” Alex laughed. “I knew we were in a gas facility, but I wasn’t sure what country. They knocked me out. I don’t know for how long.”

“Bastards,” Striker swore. “Come on. There’s a plane waiting for us. But you’ll have to share a seat with me in the getaway car.”

“I guess I didn’t think that detail through,” Griff said. “Doesn’t matter as long as we can get to the airport fast.”

Striker laughed. “I think you can handle that.” He took Alex’s hand and led her through the maze of corridors.

With the alarm still blaring, security personnel rushed in, passing workers on their way out. They hurried through the building, presumably heading for a control room. Several times, Alex, Striker and Griff had to duck into a dark corner to avoid being stopped and questioned.

After dodging several security guards, they approached a corner in a hallway. Griff took the lead and came to an abrupt halt.

Alex slammed into him and bounced back into Striker.

He grunted as pain shot through his wound. He shoved Alex behind him.

Two men dressed in security guard uniforms stood in front of Griff, handguns pointing at his chest.

Griff raised his hands.

A shout sounded over the blaring alarm. It came from behind the two guards. Four men ran toward them, the one in front shouting at the two guards in German.

“Shit,” Striker murmured. Soon, they’d have the entire security staff and the German army surrounding them.

The men wore dark pants and dark leather jackets; their faces were hard to make out in the dim lighting, with the red strobing lights distorting the view.

The man shouting in German raised some kind of badge. Among all the German he was rattling off, Striker heard the word Interpol.

The guards backed away, allowing the three men to move in.

They each carried handguns. The one speaking German lifted his chin toward Griff, Striker and Alex.

The other three of his people moved in. One man, in particular, looked vaguely familiar.

He stepped past Griff and gripped Striker’s arm.

Another man grabbed Griff’s arm, and the last man hooked Alex’s arm.

Striker started to fight off the man holding his arm.

The man leaned close and whispered in English. “Be cool. It’s me…Ace.”

Griff and Alex must have gotten the same message, since they didn’t struggle as they were led away from the guards.

Once they were out of sight of the security personnel, Ace released his hold on Striker’s arm.

“You know a different way out of here? I doubt we’ll be able to go back the way we came.

The German Polizei should be here momentarily.

I’d like to get out before we have to explain why Atkins here is carrying fake Interpol credentials. ”

Griff nodded. “Follow me.”

Soon, they arrived at the side door Griff and Striker had entered after destroying the lock.

Once outside, they ran for the Ferrari.

Workers in coveralls stood outside in clumps, staring back at the building. The blinking red lights and alarms were still going.

“We have an SUV parked at the side of the road outside the gate, if you think you can make it,” Ace offered.

“We have something better,” Striker said. “And it’s here in the parking lot.”

“Great, see you at the airport.” Ace and the three men with him sprinted toward the gate.

Griff led the way to the sports car.

Alex slipped her arm around Striker and hurried alongside him, letting him lean on her.

Damn, he could get used to having this woman around. Had he been a second slower, that bullet might have hit her. His gut hurt like hell, but Alex was alive.

He dropped into the passenger seat of the Ferrari and pulled Alex onto his lap.

“I should’ve gone with the guys in the SUV,” she protested, trying not to lean into his injury.

“No,” he grunted. “I don’t want you out of my sight for even a minute.”

“But you’re injured. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’ll hurt me more if you don’t stay still.” He wrapped his free arm around her and held her close.

She slipped her arm around his neck and lay as still as possible against him.

Griff slid behind the wheel, revved the engine and shot through the compound to the gate they’d left open. A security guard was just pulling the gate shut and had it halfway closed when the Ferrari flew through the narrow gap and out onto the street.

Striker glanced in the side mirror at the guard shaking his fist at them, while Ace and his men slipped past the guard and into the shadows of the trees.

A ringing sound alerted Striker to an incoming call.

Griff touched a button on the steering wheel.

“Did you get her?” Lucie’s voice sounded on the car’s speaker.

“We did,” Griff responded.

“Alex, the voice you hear is Lucie, our tech support,” Striker said. “Lucie and the team brought us here to get you back.”

“Thank you, Lucie,” Alex said.

“What about the flash drive?” Lucie asked.

Alex answered. “Natalya destroyed it. She said it was a pirated copy of the ransomware software she used to shut down the Nord Stream pipeline.”

“The European Union is in an uproar over the cessation of the flow of natural gas into Europe,” Lucie said. “Fortunately, when you had the flash drive connected to Striker’s computer, we downloaded a copy. All we need is Ms. Sokolov present to decrypt it with biometrics.”

“I have a pilot on standby to fly you all back to the States. A representative of the CIA cybersecurity unit will meet you at Dulles International Airport.”

They made the twenty-minute drive back to the airport in twelve, racing past the German Polizei headed for the transfer station.

As Lucie had indicated, a plane sat waiting for them on the tarmac.

Griff left the Ferrari beside it. “I love this car,” he said as he leaped out of it and shut the door.

“Maybe if you come back to work for Brotherhood Protectors International, Lucie and Dmytro can give you one of your own,” Striker said.

“Not a chance,” Griff said. “I don’t mind crossing the pond for assignments, but my heart and woman are back in Fool’s Gold, Colorado.

Speaking of which, I should check in with my hot little sheriff’s deputy before we get in the air.

” Griff stepped to the side of the plane to place his call to his lady love back in Colorado.

Striker led Alex up into the plane and settled in the seat beside her. “You might as well get comfortable; it’s a long flight back to DC.”

She nodded and reached for his hand. “Thanks for coming to my rescue. How did you find me?”

He squeezed her fingers gently. “The team. Lucie and Dmytro had the foresight to have a tracker planted on you. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have known you were taken out of France.”

“Will I have the opportunity to meet Lucie and Dmytro?” Alex asked.

“If you decide to come back to Europe after this is over,” Ace climbed up into the plane behind them.

“They’re based with me in our office in Zurich, Switzerland.

You’re welcome to visit anytime.” He held out his hand.

“I’m Ace Hammerson, lead of the Brotherhood Protectors International.

” Ace waved a hand at Striker. “And you’ve met one of our newest recruits. ”

Alex smiled at Striker. “Thanks for sending him.” Her brow furrowed. “Before we fly to the States, shouldn’t we take him to a hospital?”

The man who’d spoken German to the guards at the transfer station climbed into the plane and closed the hatch. He brought with him a box with a red cross on it. “I believe you might need this,” he said with an English accent. “Do you require assistance with it?”

“I’ll assist him.” Alex took the box from the man.

Ace waved a hand toward the man with the English accent. “This is Peter Atkins, former British SAS, another one of our team with mad German language skills.” He clapped a hand on the man’s back.

“Agreed,” Alex said. “He did a good job convincing the guards he was Interpol.” She opened the kit, took out packets of gauze and a small bottle of alcohol.

Then she helped Striker remove his shirt.

He winced, wishing he was getting naked with this woman instead of getting first aid.

With the alcohol and gauze in hand, Alex hesitated, frowning heavily. “Are you sure we don’t need to take you to a doctor?”

Striker shook his head. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

“He’s a Navy SEAL. That’s what they all say,” Griff said. “He’s probably mortally wounded, but he won’t admit it.”

“Seriously,” Striker said. “It barely nicked me.”

“Hush and let me clean the wound,” Alex said. “Then I’ll be the judge of it.”

“I like a woman who takes charge,” Striker said with a grin. When she poured alcohol on the wound, he bit down hard on his tongue to keep from cursing.

Griff chuckled. “Then you must like Alex a lot.”

Striker nodded through the pain. “And I like a woman who fights for what she believes in and for the people she cares about.” Striker tipped up Alex’s chin. “What are you going to do now that your quest is over?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. My parents worked for the CIA. At one time, I thought about applying there. But now, I’m not certain they’d have me.”

“What about the interpreting gig?” Striker asked. “There’s a demand for interpreters who speak Russian and German, especially in Europe.”

“Good thing to know I have options.” She sighed. “I feel a little lost, like a woman without a country. I don’t even have my backpack that carries everything I own. It was my world. I could go anywhere with it.”

“We can contact the Hotel Le Negresco and have them send it to you,” Striker suggested.

“That would be nice.” Alex finished cleaning his injury. “You’re right. It’s just a flesh wound. You’ll be healed in no time.” She applied a bandage and smiled. “Better?”

“Much.” Striker pulled his damaged shirt back over his head and settled into his seat. “Looks like we’ll have decisions to make when this is all over.”

Alex leaned back, nodded and closed her eyes. “Tomorrow will come soon enough for decisions.”

“Sleep,” Striker said.

She leaned her head on his shoulder.

He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I hope one of your decisions is to spend some time with me,” he whispered.

“I’d like that very much. Are you sure you want to be with me?”

“More than anything,” he said.

“Could you two shut up?” Griff grumbled. “Trying to sleep here.”

Striker cupped her cheek and then pressed his lips to hers in a brief kiss. “See you when we wake up on the other side of the pond.”