Page 8 of Redeeming Violet (Red Team #3)

Violet

“I know what you think of me.” I broke the silence.

In the three hours we’d been alone in the hotel room, Jasmin hadn’t said more than ten words to me. They consisted of her asking me if I wanted a drink, which was more like a grunt as she held up a bottle of water, and her telling me to stay away from the window.

Other than that, she’d switched between glancing at her tablet and looking out the window.

The silence was driving me crazy. I had a whole new appreciation for sensory deprivation.

While I could still see and hear, the lack of conversation left me feeling uncomfortable.

Every once in a while, Jasmin would look up and pin me with a stare that made me want to squirm.

I shouldn’t have cared what they thought of me.

I didn’t know any of them other than what I’d read and heard about them.

Yet, I did. I wanted them to understand I meant no harm.

I did what I thought I had to do to save lives.

Was it so much different from what they did?

They sacrificed the few to save the many.

I had done the same thing. I didn’t need nor want their praise, but I desperately wanted their understanding.

I was used to being alone, but I’d never in my life felt as lonely as I had these last few months.

“Do you know what the penalty for treason is?” she asked.

“I believe until the sixties it was punishable by death. However, I committed the crime of high treason, which is still life in prison or death. I suppose in my case I’ll never see the inside of a courtroom.

I’ll be remanded and put in rendition in some faraway place and never be heard from again,” I answered.

Rendition scared me. Being taken to a secret government prison and locked in a cell with the world’s worst terrorists was not something I was looking forward to. I preferred death, but no one was going to give me the option.

“Yet, you still did it.”

“I did. And even now, I don’t know if I would do anything different. I had to try and save those men and women.”

“That’s interesting. Knowing what you know now, you wouldn’t have come to us for help as soon as Timothy approached?” Jasmin moved the curtain to the side and peeked out the window again.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Given my current situation and the fact that none of you are going to help me, I never should’ve come to you. I was wrong to trust any of you.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” Jasmin’s eyes narrowed as she concentrated on what was happening outside. “Go get in the bathroom. Don’t come out no matter what.”

“What’s happening?” I asked.

“Get in the fucking bathroom, Violet,” she barked.

I got up from the chair I was sitting in and moved toward the bathroom door.

Jasmin dropped the magazine out of the pistol she was holding, inspected the black plastic, shoved it back in and racked her slide, placing a bullet in the chamber.

Then she re-holstered the weapon. The AR15 that was laying on the small table next to where she’d been sitting was now slung over her shoulder.

“Go!” she demanded.

“Do I get a gun?” I asked.

I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but she was arming herself to the teeth. I wanted something to protect myself with.

“Fuck no. You think I’d give you a gun, so you can shoot me?”

There was no time to argue with her or try and reason.

Whatever was happening had made Jasmin uneasy.

Despite what I’d said about not trusting them, I did trust that she didn’t want to die, so it was in my best interest to follow orders.

I shut the bathroom door, locked it, and laid in the bathtub.

It wasn’t like the ones we had back in the states; it was a heavy cast-iron with blue colored enamel flaking off around the edges.

The tub had seen better days; I just hoped when this was over, the tub was still in one piece.

I didn’t have to wait long before I heard the splintering of wood, followed by gunshots.

I covered my ears and made myself as small as possible.

I hated not knowing what was going on behind the door.

Ten, maybe fifteen, shots later the room went silent.

I didn’t know if that was good or bad. What I did know was I wasn’t going to continue to lie in the bathroom with no exit.

I made my way out of the tub to the door and placed my ear on the wood.

Silence. Shit, that couldn’t be good. I slowly opened the door.

I was relieved when I saw Jasmin standing at the window with the curtain pulled to the side a fraction, the same way she’d been doing all day.

The woman had nerves of steel, she looked unfazed as if bullets had not just been flying through the room.

I opened the door enough to slip out when movement caught my attention.

The hotel door was busted in, half the door still on the hinges.

Part of it lay on the floor in pieces, and some hung broken but had yet to break away from the frame.

A dark-haired man had his gun up and pointed at Jasmin’s back, and she’d yet to notice him.

Before I knew what I was doing I yelled her name, took the two steps I needed and jumped, knocking us to the floor.

We rolled to our side and in the process, I’d knocked her gun out of her hand.

I scrambled to get it and felt a hot slicing pain on my upper arm.

There was commotion behind me, and I vaguely heard Jasmin tell me to stay down.

I ignored her and reached for the gun, my fingertips barely touching it.

I managed to inch it toward me when another bullet zipped by me, leaving me in a momentary daze before I lifted the gun and pointed it in the direction of the man.

My vision was blurry and my ears were ringing.

There was no aiming, no thought. I pointed and shot.

I pulled the trigger until the slide locked open.

The gunshots stopped but the noise hadn’t.

The high-pitched squealing in my ears was more painful than the throbbing of my arm.

The smell of gunpowder was thick in the air and that, accompanied with my heart pounding in my chest, made it hard to catch my breath.

“Slow your breathing, you’re going to hyperventilate,” Jasmin instructed, her voice sounding muted and faraway.

I tried to do as she said but my chest was tight, and I couldn’t fill my lungs with much-needed oxygen.

Commotion at the door caught my attention and I lifted the empty gun in the direction.

I almost cried in relief when Jaxon stepped in.

His rifle was up, and he scanned the room before his eyes locked on mine.

His lips were moving but I couldn’t hear what he was saying over the ringing in my head.

He stepped over the body and made his way to me, Zane following behind him.

“Get up,” he said. His voice was muffled, but I did as he said and stood.

It was then I took in the room. Three men lay dead on the floor.

The wall had bullet holes in it, the mattress was askew, a lamp knocked over, and the chair I’d sat in most of the day was demolished.

In short, it looked like a gun battle had taken place in the hotel room.

Everything that happened after that was a blur. Jaxon, Zane, and Eric escorted us downstairs where Wolf and his team had taken position. They stood guarding the entrance to the hotel and an old beat up box truck was waiting for us.

Jaxon helped me in the back of the truck and once we were settled, he ripped the sleeve off my lightweight nylon shirt and inspected my bicep.

Without talking, he pulled a bottle of water out of his pack and poured it over the wound.

I gritted my teeth in pain when the warm liquid washed away the blood, exposing a deep gash.

“It’s just a graze. The powder burn makes it look worse than it is,” he said.

Just a graze?

What the hell did that mean, just ? It hurt like a bitch and I fought back the tears when he cut a t-shirt he’d pulled out of his pack into strips and tied it around my arm.

The bumpy road was not conducive to him being gentle.

Every time the truck hit a pothole we bounced and the fabric he was trying to fasten around my arm would scrape my tender flesh.

Once he was done, I looked around the back of the truck; Cookie, Dude, Mozart, Benny, Abe, and Wolf all sat staring at me.

Thank God the guys had found them in time.

They were all safe. I felt a little better knowing the intel I had found was making it possible for them to all go home in one piece.

But, by the looks on their faces, Zane had told them who I was and what I’d done.

They didn’t look thankful or relieved I’d enlisted Red Team’s help.

They looked pissed, kind of like how Zane looked when I first met him.

Everyone else already hated me, what was six more men?

I didn’t care anymore, not when ten minutes ago I had someone shooting up the hotel room and trying to kill me.

I was done. This was too much. Truthfully, I didn’t have the luxury of worrying what other people thought of me anymore.

I did a bad thing, no matter how good my intentions.

No one was going to forgive me, and I had to make peace with that.