While pretending to love Dax, Giva had fallen in love with the man. If he died that night—she prayed he wouldn’t—would she regret not telling him how she felt?
As she waited for everyone to report that they were in place, she leaned toward Dax. “Hey,” she said, her heart racing for an entirely different reason than the imminent battle.
As the teams reported in, Dax turned toward her.
Giva leaned up on her toes and whispered into Dax’s ear. “I love you.”
“We move on my count,” Fearghas said. “Three...two...one...go,” he said softly.
Chapter 14
Dax nearly tripped over his own feet as he and Fearghas pushed through the door simultaneously, aiming their submachine guns toward the alcove in front of the doors to a suite.
As Fearghas had assumed, two guards stood there with rifles at the ready. When the stairwell door swung open, they aimed at the men charging through it.
Dax dove right. Fearghas dove left.
Dax landed on his side. His weapon pointed toward the guard on the right, his finger squeezing the trigger before the guard could fire off another round.
Fearghas did the same.
When Dax rolled to his feet, he expected Fearghas to rise up beside him.
He didn’t. The Scotsman pressed a hand to his side. “Go. I’ll be right behind you.”
Dax shook his head. “Stay. We’ve got this.”
“Generator guard neutralized,” Chase reported as footsteps pounded toward them.
Gunfire sounded from within the suite.
“Get down!” Dax yelled.
Everyone dropped to the floor as bullets peppered the suite’s double doors.
Dax stayed down until the rain of bullets slowed to a stop.
Then he was on his feet, charging for the door, head bent, leading with his shoulder. When he hit it with all the force he could muster, it exploded inward, weakened by the many bullet holes blasted through the metal.
Dax rolled to the side, firing up at the guard, turning his weapon back at him.
Giva flew into the room, screaming a war cry like a banshee rising hot from the gates of hell. She leveled her handgun on the guard and unloaded several rounds, shredding the man’s midsection. He dropped to the ground, his weapon flying across the floor.
Rabinovich bent to retrieve it. As he raised it to aim at Giva, Dax nailed him with a burst from his submachine gun.
The Italian pulled a pistol from beneath his jacket. Before he could aim at anyone, a single shot from the open door dropped him. Fearghas leaned against the doorframe, his hand pressed to his wound.
Strüngmann and Kagalovsky raised their hands.
Another movement caught Dax’s eye. Before he could warn anyone, Yamaguchi stepped out from behind the damaged door and pressed a handgun to the back of Giva’s head.
“Move, and I will shoot the pretty imposter,” she said.
Giva’s eyes narrowed to slits, and her cheeks flushed a ruddy red as she tensed.
Don’t do it, Giva, Dax thought.
There was no stopping the Israeli Sayeret Matkal as she ducked and spun simultaneously. She brought the butt of her gun up and around, knocking the handgun from the woman’s grasp and slamming into the side of Yamaguchi’s head.
