Page 5 of Going Rogue (Tactical Operations & Protection (TOP))

Rogue

Rogue had nearly reached the escape vehicle when explosions started popping off in a beautiful symphony of fire and destruction.

She’d lit her last fertilizer bomb, but the blasts rising in a swelling crescendo across the compound came from Crane’s handiwork, too.

Militants scattered as their world descended into chaos.

It was glorious.

“Let’s blow this shithole.”

Her finger spasmed over the trigger of her weapon as Crane materialized next to her. She had completely missed his approach, which changed her glee over flattening this place into a scowl at being caught unawares .

“Let’s. But I’m driving.”

He had the nerve to tap her on the nose. “Nice try, squirrel, but this baby’s mine.”

While she stewed over the gesture and the odd—not so annoyed—reaction in her core, he beat her to the driver’s side door.

Climbing into the passenger seat of the beat-up Toyota truck, Rogue wasn’t about to accept defeat gracefully. She checked her gun before pointedly saying, “It’s probably for the best. They might follow, and I’m the better shot.”

She caught his snort of disbelief before he cranked the engine. Or rather, tried to crank the engine. They’d chosen this truck because of its proximity to the gate and the fact the keys had been conveniently left inside.

Now we know why.

As if he could will it to life, Crane kept trying. The vehicle responded with hopeless clicking.

She rolled her eyes and tugged at his arm. “Stop. The battery’s dead.”

When he turned to look at her, his pupils were wild with something that looked suspiciously close to panic before he growled, “It can’t be. We blew everything else up.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. Wow, the big guy was wigging out on her.

“Plan B, remember?” She flashed a grin, hoping to calm him down. Then she shoved him toward the door. “Let’s go.”

He gave a sharp nod, but his mouth still sat in a grim line. Ignoring it, she jumped out of the truck and ran toward the military Humvee they’d tagged earlier as their backup plan.

They’d left it because to really disable it would have taken more than the explosive power they had with their need to spread the fertilizer bombs around. Plus, the thing looked like it was on its last leg.

The desert paint job had flecked off in places, revealing the dull metal underneath, but it still sported a roof-mounted machine gun. If she had to guess, it had been an old U.S. Army Humvee, probably commandeered after Desert Storm.

This one had four-doors, and she headed for the front passenger side. She’d never driven a Humvee but knew Crane had during his days as a Marine. Before they’d started this op, he’d mentioned the tour he’d done in Iraq and how much he’d prefer not to return to the country.

She understood the sentiment. After the trip she’d had so far, she never wanted to come back.

The door opened with a howling squeak, making her wince. Even with their fertilizer bombs still exploding and the roar of the fires they’d caused, the noise seemed to echo like a sonar beam straight to their location.

“Hurry!” she hissed as Crane took stock of the dash. When the engine turned over, she demanded, “Can you drive this thing or what?”

Finally, his grin came back. It did strange things to her insides as he said, “Hold on,” and hit the gas.

The ancient vehicle lurched forward, and she loosed a breath in relief. She’d spent more than enough time on this compound and wanted to put it in the rearview mirror. Like yesterday.

The exit gate loomed closer as they sped over the dry desert earth. Dust clouds signaled their movement, and it wouldn’t be long before someone noticed, even in the dark. Swallowing down the ball of fear in her throat, Rogue focused on their egress route.

They would have to crash through the front gate, and she prayed the lock on it wouldn’t hold.

It didn’t look too sturdy. The whole thing consisted of chain-link fencing bounded by metal supports that met in two squares on either side of the opening.

The support bars extended about a foot above the main gate with coiled barbed wire wrapping the top.

Which was great if you wanted to keep people from climbing it on foot, but it wouldn’t do a damned thing to the Humvee—she hoped.

About to tell Crane to step on it to be sure, ominous pings lit up her side of the vehicle. Glancing out the dusty window, Rogue made out a militant firing on them. “Damn it! They’ve seen us.”

“Fuck!” Crane cursed and pushed the pedal to the floor. “This thing’s too old to be armored.” It didn’t seem to make much of a difference, though. The Humvee hadn’t been built for speed .

The militants who’d been manning the guard shack by the gate ran after them, sending a barrage of bullets from assault rifles. At least their aim sucked.

"Who are these assholes?" she muttered the question under her breath. Whenever they made it back stateside, she had every intention of finding out. And making sure their gun dealings and whatever other pies they had their fingers in were a thing of the past.

Sometimes, it pays to know people.

◆◆◆

Crane

Crane glanced over at Rogue in time to see a sinister smile tilt her lips up. “Do I want to know what you’re thinking about over there?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “Just drive, big guy.”

He grinned at the nickname. They weren’t out of the woods yet, but at least the overwhelming fear had passed. After nearly petrifying him. Whether from the length of this operation or the high stakes, he was on edge way more than usual.

The thought of failing Rogue . . . it choked him, clouded his brain when he needed to be sharp. He’d always been good at thinking on his feet, but when the truck hadn’t cranked, his mind had blanked and plunged right into panic.

Uncomfortable with the ‘why’ behind it, Crane’s hands tightened on the wheel. They were almost to the gate, except . . .

“Why’d they stop shooting?” Worry crept into his tone as he glanced over at Rogue.

She reared up to check behind them, only to let out a slew of curses before plopping back in her seat. “They’re giving chase on dirt bikes.”

“Damn it! We missed those.”

“Think we can outrun them?” Rogue asked, but her gaze stayed trained out the window.

In a brand-new Humvee? Possibly. In this old-ass junk of metal . . . “Probably not.”

With another curse, she disappeared over the seat.

“What are you doing?” A hint of fear tinged his question. He didn’t like her being out of sight when they were still in danger.

He didn’t miss the smirk in her voice when she said, “In case you hadn’t noticed, this thing has an M60.”

Instead of that fact being a relief, it shot his blood pressure through the roof. Not that he wouldn’t love for her to fire at the militants and stop their pursuit, but it meant putting herself in danger to do so.

“Dammit, Rogue. What if they shoot back?” He reached blindly toward the hatch in the roof, hoping to catch her before she climbed up it.

She yelped when his hand closed around her leg. Something hit the floorboards, crashing and rolling. He thought it might be the ammo.

“Let go!” She tried shaking him off, but the gate loomed right in front of them.

Crane jerked her back into the seat before they crashed through it. “Hold on!”

The force of their impact sent the chain-link flying open, and metal clanged against metal. They broke free with a horrible screech when pieces of the gate clawed at the Humvee as if in a desperate attempt to keep them from escaping.

When he glanced over to ensure Rogue wasn’t injured, he found her rubbing at her chest. The Humvee didn’t have airbags, and they’d both bounced pretty good. “You okay?”

Her response came as a glare before she rechecked their six.

Her anger didn’t faze him. She would have been hurt a lot worse if she’d been halfway out of the vehicle when they’d crashed through the gate.

“They’re still following us.”

A disgruntled sigh moved Crane’s chest; he knew what she was going to do. “Don’t make yourself an easy target.”

She scoffed at that. “I never do.”

This time, he let her go when she climbed over the seat.

If they had a tail, the only solution was to get rid of it.

Or their elaborate escape would’ve been for naught.

That fact didn’t help ease the rock his gut had turned into.

He hoped like hell those fuckers couldn’t drive and shoot at the same time. One stray bullet and . . .

Crane stopped those thoughts in their tracks.

Whatever the hell was going on with him, he’d examine later.

Now, the priority had to be getting to safety.

They couldn’t exactly take the road, so he cut across the desert in the direction he knew as north—toward TOP’s safehouse.

The speedometer read 50 despite the pedal being all the way to the floor.

“Come on, baby. You’ve got more than this.” He stroked the dash. “It’s okay, you can show off for me.”

Rogue heard his crooning because she didn’t miss the chance to tease him. “Are you sweet-talking the Humvee?” Her chuckle tightened his stomach muscles as if she’d caressed him there. “I’m pretty sure it’s a dude.”

She hadn’t started shooting yet, and he began to wonder if something was wrong with the equipment, but he said, “Doesn’t mean he won’t like being called ‘baby.’”

She snorted, then let out a shout filled with disturbing glee. Clearly, whatever the hang-up had been, she’d fixed it. “Time to pay, assholes. ”

The rapid report of the machine gun drowned out the noise of the engine as Rogue aimed at the two dirt bikes following them. He didn’t know how much ammo she had up there but hoped it would be enough.

Through the windshield, darkness encased them, split only by the tunnel carved from the Humvee’s headlights.

So when a flash from the side-view mirror drew his eye, Crane paid attention.

The light proved too dim to see what had happened, but only a single beam bounced in the reflection. Rogue had gotten one.

Nice shooting, baby.

The unbidden use of the endearment made him frown. Since when did he call Rogue ‘baby’? She’d probably slug him if he tried it out loud. Distracted, they hit a pothole, and her ass bounced into his face along with a stream of curses.

He gripped her right cheek, ostensibly to push her out of the way but really to take advantage of the unintentional opportunity to feel those curves.

“Dammit, Crane!” The shout came before she righted herself, smacking his hand away. “ I’m almost out of ammo. Keep it steady.”

“Kind of hard to avoid potholes in the dark,” he mumbled with a grin she couldn’t see.

The sound of the machine gun firing sobered him up. He needed to focus on the task at hand, not think about what he wanted to do with Rogue’s backside.

Down boy. Shifting in his seat, he willed his dick to behave. The relief-charged adrenaline filtering through his veins wasn’t helping.

The militants’ compound had been around eighty miles from Baghdad, which meant they could be to the safehouse outside Al Asad within a couple of hours. If they were lucky, the rest of the team would still be there.

Rogue dropped into the seat next to him with a satisfied gleam in her eyes. “Tangoes eliminated.”

He smiled in response. They were one step closer to getting the hell out of this country. The rock in his gut felt lighter until his eye landed on another problem.

Staring at the reading on the dashboard, it sank like a stone, heavy enough to drag all hope down with it.

With a glance at Rogue’s profile, Crane uttered five words capable of turning their clean escape into an easy recapture. “We’re running out of gas.”