Shades of Gray (24 page)

She went reeling, the gun flying from her hand. She landed several feet away, her
face exploding with pain. Goddamn, it felt like he’d broken her damn jaw.

He loomed over her, holding the gun to her head, but she reacted quickly, lashing
out with her good leg, knocking the gun from his grasp.

She struggled up, but he was on her, yanking her to her feet, landing another blow
to her already injured jaw.

By sheer determination, she remained conscious and pushed aside the pain. She hung
tenaciously to Brumley when he tried to throw her toward the couch. If he ever got
his weight over her, she was done for. He outweighed her by two hundred pounds. She
rammed her knee into his testicles, and suddenly she was free, his howl of pain echoing
sharply in her ears.

Where was a damn gun?

Was Cole alive?

Brumley recovered quickly and they circled each other like wary predators. But her
concentration was divided because she was heartsick over the idea that Cole had been
shot. He could be dead.

She glanced Cole’s way again and Brumley struck in that moment of inattention, landing
a kick to her injured leg. Agony lanced up her thigh. She let out a cry of pain and
crumpled to the floor, unable to catch herself before impact.

“Goddamn it, P.J., I’m okay. Now get your ass up and kick his fucking ass,” Cole yelled.

Relief made her dizzy. But she was also suddenly imbued with strength and purpose.
Cole was
alive
. All she had to do was take out this asshole and her objective would be achieved.
Revenge would be hers. And the son of a bitch would never hurt another woman or child
again.

She pushed herself up just as Brumley launched another attack. She rolled and did
a round kick with her uninjured leg, connecting with his balls for a second time.
If she had her way, he wouldn’t have any left when she finished with him.

Where was a goddamn weapon? A gun? Knife? Anything?

She rolled again, trying to muster the strength to get to her feet, when her hand
glanced off the knife that had been used to cut off her clothing.

She grabbed for it and held on for dear life. This time when Brumley came after her,
she lashed out with the knife and got him right in the gut.

He howled in pain and jumped back. This time he didn’t advance on her, having figured
out the odds had turned in her favor.

He made a dive for one of the guns and P.J. leaped after him, rolling over his body
and kicking the gun in Cole’s direction.

As soon as she made contact with the floor, it knocked the breath out of her and Brumley
was on her in a split second.

They rolled, his hand crushing her wrist in an effort to make her drop the knife.
Oh hell no. She wasn’t going down like this.

She waited until he dropped lower, trying to use his weight to his advantage, and
she head-butted him right in the face. Pain lanced down her spine as he rolled away
from her, but she couldn’t afford to let it stop her now. Her whole body felt like
it had been through a meat grinder, but she was so close. So damn close to victory,
she could taste it.

“Behind you, P.J.!” Cole yelled.

She dropped and rolled again, barely missing Brumley’s charge. Again they were both
on their feet facing off like two bulls. Blood dripped from them both. She had no
idea where she was bleeding from. There wasn’t a single part of her body that didn’t
hurt. Her entire concentration was on making Brumley bleed
more
.

He feinted left and that’s when she had him. She went low and took him down when he
was off balance. She rolled atop him and punched him right in the face. And then again.
She punched until she was sure she’d broken her hand again.

Then she grasped his head in both hands and slammed it down onto the floor until he
was nearly unconscious.

“P.J., P.J., baby, you got him.”

Cole’s soothing voice filtered into the haze wrought by her rage. She glanced up,
for the first time connecting with Cole. He was alive. Bleeding, but alive. Then she
glanced down at Brumley, whom she was still sitting astride. Naked.

She felt no shame this time. She was the victor. She’d taken this motherfucker out.
Her. Just a helpless woman he’d once raped.

She bent low, hissing so he’d be sure to hear. “How’s it feel, asshole? To know I’m
not so helpless now and I kicked your fucking ass.”

She picked up the knife she’d dropped and casually popped the buttons on his expensive,
bloodied, silk shirt. Panic entered his eyes when he figured out her intention.

The door to the room flew open and she scrambled for the gun lying close to Cole.
It was slippery and she damn near dropped it, and then heard Cole’s voice, soothing.
Calming her from the panic that had taken hold.

“It’s all right now, P.J. It’s just Steele and the rest. They’re here now. It’s all
right.”

But it wasn’t all right. She didn’t even spare her teammates a glance. She returned
her attention to the bastard she had pinned to the floor. She didn’t care what her
teammates were seeing. That she was naked and bloody. She’d sacrificed all pride in
her pursuit of justice. And now it was hers for the taking.

She finished cutting off his shirt and Brumley started babbling and pleading for his
life.

Pathetic, ball-less worm.

“Don’t kill me,” he begged.

She laughed, and the sound was cold in the room. Not at all like P.J. This was a different
P.J. This was the cold-blooded killer she’d become.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t cut you up like you did me and then let you die
a long, painful death,” she spat.

“P.J.”

It was Steele. That one word cut through the haze and brought her back to reality.

She turned, expecting censure. Expecting him to tell her to stand down. What she saw
were her teammates with rage in their eyes.

Steele was at the forefront, his eyes brimming with understanding.

“It’s your call,” he said quietly. “Resnick wants him alive, but fuck Resnick. Whatever
you decide, we’re behind you one hundred percent.”

It was then that Brumley broke down, weeping like a distraught child. Maybe he saw
the promise of death in P.J.’s eyes. And after hearing her team leader all but sanction
his death, he started babbling faster than P.J. could keep up.

“I’ll give you whatever you want. Money. I have money. Information.”

He latched onto that greedily. “I have names and contacts. I have records of every
deal I’ve ever made. You could take out a lot of very important people who deal in
child trafficking. I’m just the middle man. I’m nothing.”

P.J.’s lips curled into a snarl. “Yeah, you’d probably love to be turned over to Resnick.
You’d cut some cushy deal, sing like a bird and then be free in no time. I don’t trust
you, Brumley. You’d say anything to save your own ass.”

Dolphin and Renshaw ran to where Cole was still sitting, tied to the chair. They quickly
untied him and started applying a pressure dressing to the wound.

Steele and Baker stood by the door, guns still drawn, their gazes never leaving P.J.

“I can prove it,” Brumley gabbled. “In my safe. There in the wall. I’ll give you the
combination. You can see. I have records of everything. Recorded conversations. Details
of deals. When and where. It’s all there, I swear it!”

“Baker, check it out,” P.J. ordered.

Baker removed the painting and then waited as Brumley stuttered out the combination.
A moment later, Baker started pulling out stacks of currency and with it a ledger
and several memory chips.

Baker flipped through the ledger and let out a low whistle.

“Apparently our asshole here does business with some very important people. Resnick
would come in his pants to get his hands on this.”

“See!” Brumley panted. “I told you!”

P.J. looked at him in disgust and then pressed the blade into his throat until a line
of blood appeared.

“Wait! You said you wouldn’t kill me!” Brumley said in panic.

She slashed deep, cutting his windpipe, air escaping in a long hiss.

“Sue me.”

CHAPTER 37

P.J.
let the knife fall from her hand, clattering to the floor. Numbness had crept in along
with the realization that she’d done it. Her revenge was complete.

Her rapists were dead. Her mission was done.

A shiver took over, and she realized that she was still astride Brumley, naked and
cold, shaking like a leaf.

And then her team was there, surrounding her.

Mortification gripped her and she clutched her arms to her in an attempt to cover
her body.

Steele wrapped a blanket around her shivering form and pulled her up and away from
the blood and the sight of Brumley’s dead body.

“Are you hurt?” Steele demanded, his hands on her shoulders, holding the blanket in
place.

It seemed a senseless question when she was bleeding all over and her face must look
like a train wreck.

“Cole,” she croaked out. “How is Cole?”

She broke away, uncaring of anything but Cole. She rushed to where he still sat on
the chair he’d damn near torn apart in his desperation to get to her. There were rope
burns at his wrists and a bulky pressure dressing on his shoulder. But he was alive.

As soon as she pushed her way past Dolphin and Renshaw, Cole staggered to his feet
and met her halfway.

Ignoring his injuries, ignoring hers, he crushed her to him, holding on as if he’d
never let go.

“My God, you scared me, P.J.,” he whispered against her ear. “Don’t ever do that to
me again. Swear to me you’ll never do that again. I almost lost you. I can’t lose
you again. Never again.”

She clung fiercely to him, fearing what would happen if she let go. She could literally
feel the threads holding her in place loosening and starting to fray. She didn’t know
how much longer she’d be able to keep it together.

“Baker, get everything out of that safe,” Steele ordered. “We need to clear out of
here double time. I don’t want any sign that we were here.”

Renshaw snorted. “I think the dead bodies will give it away.”

Steele pinned him with a glare. “They may speculate as to who and what, but I don’t
want them to have irrefutable proof. I want everyone out and this place clean on the
double.”

“Yes sir,” Baker said.

Baker gathered everything from the safe and began stuffing it into his pack.

Renshaw began a wipe down of all the surfaces that could have been touched and then
started working on the doorway, the knobs and the frame.

P.J. was still holding tightly to Cole, knowing if she let go, she was a goner.

Steele walked over to them.

“Can you make it down without help?” he asked Cole.

“Yeah, I’m good. But she’s not.”

“I know,” Steele said quietly.

He gently pried P.J. away from Cole. She went ballistic, stretching her arms out to
Cole, not wanting to be separated from him for even a moment.

“Shhhh, P.J.,” Steele said gently. “It’s over now. You’re safe. Cole is all right.”

But her shattered mind couldn’t process anything but her need to be close to Cole.

She was still struggling when Steele swept her into his arms. After ordering Baker,
Dolphin and Renshaw to complete the cleanup, he headed out the door with Cole following
closely behind.

P.J. went limp, the pain from her struggles overwhelming her. She laid her head on
Steele’s shoulder and closed her eyes, so many different emotions bombarding her until
she was utterly overwhelmed.

Relief. Pain. Sadness. Grief. Vindication.

Justice.

She clung to the last word knowing it was the most appropriate of all. Justice had
been served. Brumley would never pose a threat to another woman or child again.

Steele carried her out of the gates that had been blasted open, and she gazed at the
twisted iron, the carnage that had been wrought when her team had blown their way
in.

A moment later, Steele set her down into the back of an SUV and eased her into a sitting
position. He carefully pulled the ends of the blanket around her, tucking the ends
like she was a child incapable of doing even the simplest task for herself.

“I’m going back to round up the others so we can get the fuck out of here,” Steele
said. And then he strode away, leaving her and Cole alone.

She sat hunched over and Cole closed in, pulling her into his arms. She closed her
eyes and simply inhaled his scent. The blood, sweat, dirt. She didn’t care. He was
alive. They’d made it. Brumley was dead.

“It’s over, baby,” he murmured. “It’s finally over. You kicked the ever-loving shit
out of him. You scared me to death, but I never doubted you for a moment.”

She sighed and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. Her voice trembled and shook
when she spoke. She had to work to get the words past her stiff, cold lips.

“It’s over, but will I still see him at night when I close my eyes? Will I still see
him in my dreams and relive that moment of helplessness again and again?”

He slipped his fingers under her chin and gently nudged it upward until she met his
gaze.

“I’m going to be right beside you every step of the way, and every time that asshole
enters your mind, I’m going to push him right back out again. For every bad dream
you have, I’m going to replace it with something wonderful.”

She leaned her forehead against his chest again. “I love you, you know.”

He put his mouth to the top of her head, and she could feel his smile. “Yeah, I know.
And I love you just as much. What do you think we should do about that?”

She made a garbled sound that could have been panic or satisfaction. Maybe a little
of both. It was so hard to get her thoughts together and this was so very important.
She had to get this right.

She raised her head so she could look him in the eyes, so she could see that love—for
her—shining like the warmest light in the darkest corner of hell.

“It probably means we should do something stupid like move in together. But I draw
the line at popping out babies.”

He laughed softly, his bloody mouth working into a semblance of a smile. “What, you
don’t want to raise a brood of little snipers?”

She shuddered. “No.”

He hugged her fiercely. “I’m fine with that. As long as I have you. We make a good
team, Penelope Jane. On and off the job.”

She pulled back again and eyed him suspiciously. “No demand that I quit my job so
you can shut me away and keep me safe?”

“Hell no. Who would save my ass on a mission? I’m counting on you to protect
me
!”

She laughed, despite the gut-wrenching pain it caused her, and let go of some of the
horrible tension knotting her gut. “I’ll do my best.”

She hugged him again because she just couldn’t stop touching him. “I love you,” she
said fiercely. “I’m sorry I couldn’t say it before. But it was there. Maybe it’s always
been there. It’ll always be there, Cole. I swear it.”

He stroked her hair, raining little kisses over her brow and head. “We would have
gotten there eventually. Our dating time just happened to be over bullets, grenades
and hostage rescues. We’ll never be normal, but screw normal, eh?”

“Yeah, screw normal,” she said, her voice muffled by Cole’s shirt.

“Let’s go and load up.”

Steele’s voice penetrated the warm glow that P.J. existed in and brought her crashing
back to reality all too soon.

They still had to face the music for their actions, and it could very well mean that
she no longer had a future with KGI.