Shattered (Anderson Special Ops #4) - Melody Anne Page 0,79

punch, kicked one of the two directly in the chest, and sent him flying while in the same movement came over the top of the other man, slamming his fist into the center of the man’s nose. An explosion of blood cascaded down his face as he fell to the floor.

The man who’d been kicked in the chest was back up and thought better of engaging with Smoke. Maybe he did have some brains after all. Both of them saw Tre’s AK-47 at the same time, however, the guard was only feet from it. Even with Smoke’s speed he wouldn’t reach the gun first.

Each man made their move: the criminal toward the gun and Smoke toward the window.

Smoke hissed as he sprinted toward the opening at the back of the room. He was three steps from it when the first shot rang out, splitting wood to the side of him. One more step, his speed increasing with each push from his feet, and another two shots rang out in the room, the rounds coming closer to connecting with his body. Smoke was feet from his only exit out of the nightmare. The gun was releasing rounds faster and faster, making Smoke determine quickly what had to be done.

Diving from the window in a full sprint, a weightlessness met Smoke as he went airborne. He’d pulled his belt from his pants just before pushing himself through the window, and he perfectly timed throwing the belt over the awaiting wire. His hands wrapped into the belt, tension ripping into the leather as his weight caught the wire.

“Go . . . Go . . . Go . . .” Smoke yelled to his team who were standing in the back of the truck, not sure what was happening in the loft, not until they saw him flying through the window.

Only a couple of seconds passed before the special ops team was in position and ready to go. Just as Smoke hit the back of the truck, shots rained down on them. Eyes and Sleep slammed the back doors of the truck, Smoke removed the anchor, and Green lurched forward, speeding from the building.

“You know, you guys could’ve helped me out a little,” Smoke said while he laid on his back, catching his breath.

“Can’t you do anything by yourself?” Green yelled from the driver’s seat.

“That’s not what your mama said to me,” Smoke fired back.

“Ohh . . . I’m telling your mom that you’re talking about my mama,” Green replied.

Smoke laid there for a few more seconds, then rolled himself over, crawled to the driver’s area, and whispered in Green’s ear. “If you say anything to my mama, I’ll be forced to slice you wide open.”

Green started laughing hysterically and between breaths was able to answer. “Now, what do you think she’ll do to you when I show her the video of you jumping from that window with a man shooting a gun at you?”

Both of them were laughing, something they did often after a particularly stressful time where bullets and fists were flying at them. “She’d do the job they weren’t able to and kill me,” Smoke said. He wasn’t too far off. His mother would kick his ass up and down the street if she knew what his work entailed.

She’d always told him she’d made him from scratch, and to mess with her recipe by defiling his body was unacceptable. That’s why he took such good care of himself. His mama had brewed him up, and he owed her for that. He did love flicking crap with his team though. He sat back laughing while looking up at his buddy and shaking his head — not understanding how he’d met these men who gave him just as much crap as he gave them. He was a lucky man.

He had a job he loved, people who’d become family to him, that he got to work with every single day, a mother who’d raised him right and who he loved immensely . . . and now a woman he wanted to come home to. There was no waiting for another shoe to drop. His life was good — and he had a feeling it was only going to get better.

Chapter Fifteen

Bobbi stood at the incredible UBC Botanical Garden in Vancouver, Canada. Her stomach had been a mess the entire week, and now the moment was there. She looked around in awe at what Sherman had been able to accomplish. The man was incredible —