Riding The Edge - Elise Faber Page 0,61

who’d tried to come up behind me.

Knowing the man was fucked, I turned back to Daniel.

Only to watch him take off through the trees. Rolling, I propped myself on my elbows, lined up my shot, and . . . fired.

Missed.

I breathed, shot again.

He tripped and the bullet went wide.

“Come on,” I whispered, knowing this was my last shot, that if I didn’t take him down with this bullet, he would disappear again and—

I pulled the trigger.

Daniel fell.

Then got back up.

“Fuck,” I hissed, tossing down the gun, pushing to my feet, determined to go after him, cast on my foot or not.

I turned to check on Dan, saw he’d taken down the final man.

And . . . was clutching his side.

Red soaking through his white T-shirt.

His blue eyes met mine, hazy with pain. “I’m really fucking tired of getting shot,” he muttered.

Then he toppled forward.

Epilogue

Part One

KTS Satellite Base

Western Georgia

16:12hrs local time

Dan

Brit was going to kill me.

Three bullet wounds in a month.

Olive glared down at me. “You made me fly from England all the way to this hot-ass hellhole in the middle of the summer. What the fuck is wrong with you?” she snapped.

“I didn’t exactly plan on getting shot,” I muttered.

“Hmph.”

“And you didn’t have to fly out here,” I pointed out. “Linc had it perfectly in hand.”

Her hand covered my mouth. “Do not speak the Evil One’s name.”

I rolled my eyes, the rivalry between the two doctors was well-known, but I didn’t say anything further. The woman was checking my wound, I wasn’t about to do anything to piss her off.

“The stitches look fine,” she grumbled. “Not perfect. But they’ll work.”

“Such ringing compliments,” the Evil One himself said, walking through the door to the infirmary.

Frankly, I considered myself lucky that Lincoln had been here when Ava had driven me in. He was one of the few doctors I trusted, and I’d worked with him before, knew him to be quick and efficient.

And slightly less dramatic than Olive.

Not that I didn’t love the girl.

Especially since she slapped the bandage on my side and immediately went to Linc—well, to Ava since Linc hadn’t actually just walked through the door. He’d been pushing the wheelchair with my girl.

Olive fussed over her new cast, the other having been cut off and replaced when X-rays showed that Ava’s ankle was a little worse for wear after her field shenanigans.

I turned to Laila and Ryker, who were parked on my other side. “Any sign of Daniel?”

Laila shook her head. “No. Blood on the ground, but no body.”

“Fucker’s got nine lives,” Ryker said, derision in every syllable.

“Unfortunately, that’s true.”

We all sat in silence for a heartbeat, and I for one, was wondering when in the hell we’d finally be rid of Daniel. He was the proverbial thorn in our side—no, more than that. He was dangerous, and every minute he lived meant KTS agents were in danger.

Laila clapped me lightly on the shoulder. “I’ll save those two from snapping at each other.” A squeeze. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

I covered her hand. “No bullets for a while. Promise.”

Her lips turned up. “Better keep that one,” she said and walked over to Olive, slipping her hand through the other woman’s arm and all but dragging her from the room.

Ryker shook my hand. “Glad you’re good, brother.”

“Thanks, man.”

Then he was gone, following Laila and Olive out the door, looping Linc into conversation, and leaving me and Ava alone.

She wheeled herself over to the bed. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

I snorted, laughter bubbling up, before I groaned and held a hand over my bandage. “Too soon for laughing.”

“Sorry.” She lifted herself up and out of the chair, sat on the bed. “You okay?”

“Fine, sweet cheeks.” I touched her temple lightly, noted a bruise spreading out on the delicate skin surrounding her eye. “You okay?”

She made a face. “Not sweet cheeks,” she said then pointed at her foot, scowl growing darker. “And it’s okay so much as I’ve got six more weeks in this fucking piece of fiberglass.”

“Funny that,” I said. “Olive just ordered me off for six weeks.”

Her eyes brightened. “Yeah?”

“Yup.” I tugged a strand of her hair. “More lazy summer days with whiskey and peaches and lemonade?”

She shuddered. “God no,” she said. “As much as I’ve enjoyed our time there, I think that cabin is cursed.”

Since she had a point, I simply nodded. “So, what are two agents to do with all this time off?” I asked, rubbing the piece of her hair between thumb and forefinger, soaking in