Page 66 of Raven's Hunt
Grieves huffed. “So, be it.”
They circled each other, his knife glinting in the light. She reached for hers, but somewhere during the fight, it had been torn off, leaving her armed with only her Sig. But if she fired… Even a minor wound could kill him if the bullet ricocheted. Took some freak trajectory and ended up between his eyes.
She couldn’t risk it. Not with Buck still working on Wade.
Grieves closed the distance, an alarm blaring once on his cell. “One minute left, luv, before your friends are splattered across the room. I do hope all the pain you’re going to suffer was worth the try.”
He stabbed at her, the blade slicing through the air, all that force aiming at her thigh. She imagined Buck still fighting to save Wade, Nick and Sloane battling the forces beyond the door and knew, this was her one chance.
She moved, stepped into the strike, cutting down the distance as she twisted, took the hit to her shoulder an inch outside her vest. The blade sliced through her skin and muscle, sinking into the meaty part just outside her collar bone, the hilt jamming to a halt against her vest.
Grieves froze, eyes wide, fingers white-knuckled around the handle. She used that one moment of hesitation to lock both her hands around his wrist. Using his strength to kick off the rail, she vaulted onto his shoulders, thighs hugging his head, her boots crossed around his neck.
Their combined weight tripped him backward, and they crashed onto the platform, metal singing beneath them, everything slamming to a halt. She arched her back, applied more pressure as he thrashed beneath her, one hand connecting with the knife still embedded in her shoulder.
Pain burned her eyes, the scenery washing to black as she held on, muscles screaming, breath lodged tight in her chest until Grieves stilled.
She released her hold, kicking him off her, praying she hadn’t inadvertently killed the bastard. He rolled, stopping with his head to the side, lips tinged blue, before gasping in a rough breath as his eyes opened, that lethal stare locking on her.
She scrambled for her Sig, left hand barely moving when boots pounded the stairs beside her a moment before Buck charged across the platform, catching Grieves with a knee to the chest. Grieves flew back, head cracking on the corrugated surface, eyes rolling as he twitched a few times, then stilled.
She blinked, finding herself in Buck’s arms as he raced down the stairs, spread her out on the floor. The heavy door screeched open behind them, the rest of their team pouring into the room.
Buck yanked off his shirt, packed it around the handle. “Jesus, what the hell were you thinking?”
She snorted, groaning when the simple motion frayed her limited vision. “That I needed to get the upper hand.”
“By intentionally taking a hit?”
“It worked.”
“The way blood’s pooling beneath you, the jury’s still out on that.” He leaned in. “Rowan’s thirty seconds away, and Foster’s already lifted off. Don’t you dare stop breathing.”
“Are you always this bossy?”
“Someone has to be.” He looked up as footsteps pounded the cement behind her. “We can chat about it later.”
He shifted as Rowan dropped to her knees, shaking her head as she opened her bag. “How did I know you’d be the one bleeding.” She bandaged the knife in place, hooked up a saline drip. “Doesn’t look like it got anything vital, but then, you’d already be dead if it had. Still, focus on Buck. Foster’s ten minutes out.”
Tierney wet her lips, staring up at Buck. “Tell me again.”
Buck leaned in, kissed her other hand. “You’re insane. And I’m crazy in love with you.”
She smiled, a deep chill creeping into her bones as everything started to fade. “Takes one…” She drifted, fought her way back. “I love you, too.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Beeping.
Rattling through her skull. Dragging her out of the dark, as she opened her eyes, stared up at the beige ceiling. The fluorescent lights had been dialed down, but the harshness still stung her eyes until she blinked a few times, allowing everything to adjust.
Tierney wet her lips, running through a mental check — shoulder bandaged, ribs biting. Heart tapping out that annoying rhythm. She’d been in the same hospital bed for two days, and if she didn’t get out soon, she might just go rogue.
“Someone looks ready to wage war.”
She turned, staring up at Buck as he shifted on the chair and took her good hand in his. God he was handsome, his brown hair in a tousled mess, his blue eyes shining like a neon sign in a country bar — the perfect amount of scruff eliminating any “pretty” vibes. Turning them all into that rugged, sexy fierceness she’d grown to love.
Her heart skipped.
