Special Forces Saviour. Janie Crouch

starting to piss Derek off.

      The empty apartment building across the street gave the enemy the tactical advantage. That advantage wasn’t something Derek, as the lead tactical team specialist of Omega’s SWAT generally gave up.

      But the intel they’d received on this location had required an immediate response. Time for tactical analysis hadn’t been available. Thus, the taking cover behind their SUV as the bullets flew by their heads.

      Derek had moved in on this location so quickly because it had been the first substantial lead pertaining to a terrorist attack on Chicago two weeks earlier. A bombing that had killed or injured over five hundred people.

      None of the leads Omega had followed up on until now—and there had been hundreds of them—had provided any useful intel. Each location had been totally cold.

      Another bullet flew by. This location definitely wasn’t cold.

      “All right, to hell with this.” Derek looked over at Liam. “Jon and I will lay down cover-fire. You head around to the back of the building.”

      Liam was grinning like an idiot. He loved this sort of thing, danger be damned. “Now you’re talking.”

      Derek nodded. “Remember, we need them alive, if at all possible.”

      “Hey, it’s me!” Liam actually winked at them. “I wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

      Derek rolled his eyes and heard Jon groan under his breath as Liam made his way down the line of abandoned cars parked on the street. Still using their SUV for as much cover as possible, Derek and Jon began firing their weapons toward the abandoned building, hoping to draw any return-fire back at them and away from Liam.

      But there were no shots at all coming at them from the house.

      Derek looked over at Jon. “Again.”

      Using the hood to brace his arm, Derek fired three shots at the house while Jon did the same from the rear of the vehicle. Still no return-fire. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Liam make it across the street at the side of the building. No shots were fired at him, either.

      The bad guys weren’t in the building anymore; they must be on the run. Whoever had been shooting at them just a few moments ago was Omega’s best lead in Chicago’s terrorist attack. They were the only lead. And now they were about to get away.

      “Move in, but be careful,” Derek said to Jon as they made their way forward, weapons still raised.

      Derek was reaching for the knob of the door, Jon covering him from a cross angle when they heard a rapid burst of gunfire from the back of the building where Liam had been heading.

      Both men backed out of the doorway and sprinted around the building without a word. Each of them knew that getting inside was secondary to helping Liam if he was under fire. As they rounded the building, Derek was relieved to see Liam unharmed, chasing a suspect farther down the road behind the apartment building. Derek and Jon continued running to catch up with them. Helping capture a known suspect was better than sticking around for what may or may not be in the house.

      “Stay with them,” Derek told Jon, then made a sharp turn. He would run down a parallel side street and try to cut off the runner. He forced more speed out of his legs.

      As he made a sharp turn around the next group of buildings, Derek saw the perp slowing down with Liam only a few yards behind him, Jon just beyond that.

      It was obvious Liam was going to catch the guy at any moment, and the perp knew it, too. He fired his weapon at the Omega agents behind his back in some haphazard fashion without even stopping his run, but the bullets didn’t come anywhere near either of them.

      Derek turned again and began running toward them.

      “Stop!” he called out to the man, and saw distress wash over his face. The man stopped running altogether, sliding to an awkward stop.

      “You’re under arrest,” Derek continued between breaths. “Place the gun on the ground and put your hands on your head.”

      The man turned around, frantically looking for another way out, but didn’t put his gun down. All the Omega agents gripped their weapons tighter. Nobody wanted to shoot this suspect, he was too important. But they would if necessary. Especially if he turned his weapon on them rather than where it currently lay in his hand pointing at the ground.

      “Put your weapon down,” Derek repeated. He nodded toward the ground with his forehead, as the man turned back in his direction. “Do you understand? All we want to do is ask you some questions.”

      That wasn’t entirely true, but Derek just wanted to get the man’s gun out of his hand.

      The man nodded and Derek eased his finger off the trigger just the slightest bit. But then, almost as if it was in slow motion, and before any of them could react, the guy brought his gun up to his own temple and fired. He crumpled to the ground, dead instantly.

      Derek’s curse was vile. Jon rushed up to the man and crouched down to take his pulse at the wrist, but Derek knew it was too late.

      Their best lead—their only lead—had just blown his brains out rather than be taken into custody.

      He looked over at Jon and Liam. “We need to call this in. Omega and local PD.”

      Liam already had his phone out. “On it.”

      “Okay, stay with the body until they get here.” Derek turned back toward the house. “Jon, let’s go see if there’s anything in the house. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

      They hadn’t gone more than a few steps before they smelled it. Smoke, coming from the building the potential terrorist had just vacated.

      If possible, Derek’s curse was even more vile. A burned house would destroy all possible evidence. The poor dead guy had probably just been a decoy to lure the Omega team away so whoever was left could start the fire.

      Jon and Derek sprinted back to the house. Smoke was pouring out of the windows. If they were going to be able to salvage anything useful, they’d have to do it in a hurry. As safely as possible, Derek opened the back door, throwing a latex glove onto one hand to grab anything that might be useful for the investigation. Then he took off his jacket to use as a filter over his mouth.

      Inside, everything was in flames. Whoever had been here had used some sort of accelerating agent, probably gasoline, to make the place burn more quickly. Bending low under the smoke, he and Jon made their way farther inside.

      They’d been in the house less than a minute, squinting their way through the smoke and heat, when Jon pulled on Derek’s shoulder, gesturing back toward the door. Jon was right. This was too dangerous. They needed answers about the terrorist attack, but it wasn’t worth either of them losing their lives.

      Derek saw a few pieces of some sort of computer hardware sitting broken on the floor. He crawled to them, wincing as his hand was burned picking up the more substantial pieces and placing them inside his jacket pocket. Jon was pulling on him again and Derek could feel the hairs singeing on his arms from the heat. It was time to go.

      As they rushed to get out, Derek saw something just under the layer of smoke lying near the edge of the kitchen table. It looked like some sort of communication device, or maybe some sort of drive, about half the size of a cell phone. Derek pushed Jon toward the door, then dropped to his hands and knees to crawl to it. The smoke was now too heavy to remain upright. Derek smelled the putrid stench of burning flesh just before he felt pain on his shoulders and back. He was too close to the heat and it was burning his skin. He grabbed the device and wrapped it in his jacket, then began crawling for the door.

      Or at least he hoped he was crawling in the direction of the door. He could no longer see in the smoke. Breathing was becoming damn near impossible. Derek kept crawling forward.

      Hands reached from in front of him, grabbed him under the armpits and dragged him out of the building and into blessed clean and cool air.

      “You