DOUBLE TROUBLE WITH THE TWIN WOLVES 21

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - O N E - - - T O M

Tom’s leg was fucking killing him. He knew it would only get worse as soon as he got out of there and the adrenaline wore off. Fortunately, the bomb he was staring down at the moment made sure that there was plenty of that life-giving liquid pounding through his veins at the moment.

He inspected it thoroughly, or as thoroughly as a man could given that he had maybe a minute and thirty seconds until the timer would run out. All he really wanted to do was run over to Maddison, like Tim had done, grab her in his arms and get the fuck out of there. But he knew none of them would make it far if he did that. There were enough explosives gathered in the room that the blast would take out the hospital and half a block, if not more.

“You got to get out of here,” he hissed, not turning around and checking who was there to hear him. “This thing is not going to wait for you.”

“We wouldn’t even make it out of the building,” came Jerome’s calm, stern voice, strolling into the room like nothing had happened at all. “Maddison, you all right?” he asked, and when she didn’t answer, Tom assumed she’d nodded.

He was running his fingers down the lengths of the wires, trying to figure out which one had the power supply. It was a basic little device, effective in its simplicity. It only took a small charge to set the explosive putty off and the timer and power unit had plenty of juice to give it that kick. And when the first detonation happened, it would start a chain-reaction moving through the rest of the armaments, combining their forces together to leave a nice big smoking crater where Tom and his compatriots were currently standing.

Tom bit the inside of his cheek as he looked it over one more time to be sure he wasn’t missing anything. The Arctics were crazy motherfuckers. They’d set it so that it wasn’t even positive that they would have made it out of there in time without Squad Six paying them a visit. The price of manic belief, Tom figured.

There were more heavy footsteps coming down the corridor and Tom whipped around momentarily when he heard someone barging through the door. It was Jordan and Mitchell, and Jerome and Tim already had their rifles trained on their heads before lowering the muzzles.

“We got about six of them, and Shaun took out three. They were going for a lab upstairs, genetic enhancement facilities. No idea what exactly they wanted from there, but I think we stopped them before they could grab it,” Mitchell said, beaming with satisfaction.

There were streaks of blood dappling his clothes and Tom could tell from a cursory glance that the fight had been an extended one, considering how much ammo he was missing. Jordan was already kneeling next to Maddison and Tim, arguing with Tim about how his wound needed to be debrided or he’d die of every infection known to man and shifter alike.

“Quiet!” Jerome growled, and the field fell silent. Tom didn’t even flinch when the command sounded.

He had work to do and as the seconds ticked down, it was becoming more and more imperative that he did it right.

“Tom, do we have a chance?” Jerome asked, keeping his voice steady.

“Always a chance,” Tom mumbled, giving a curt nod in the direction of the bomb.

“Good. Shaun, get as far away as you can. We may have a big boom on our hands,” Jerome spoke, broadcasting over their communication line.

“Noted. Good luck,” came Shaun’s fast response, and Tom could imagine how the man was throwing his rifle over his back and getting the hell out of Dodge.

Blast warnings were taken seriously in Squad Six, especially after that one time on New Year’s that no one believed Tom when he said he had more than a little bit of fun planned for everyone. He grinned wryly at the memory, the seconds now ticking down to twenty. He cleaned out the pins from the putty a bit to see where they were attached and then looked at the connection between timer and the power source, but there were too many options there to go by anything more than an educated guess.

In his mind’s eye, he could see Blake doing the exact same thing years ago, hoping for the best while he was dressed in a bomb disposal suit, praying that his hands were steady enough and the guy who’d set up the bomb was dumber than he was. No way in hell did Tom believe that whatever had happened had been his fault, but it didn’t mean that his heart didn’t go out to a man in a very similar line of work as his, doing the same thing day in and day out and always praying for a good outcome.

Tom loved setting up blasts, controlling them, directing them. But stopping one from going off? That part sucked, man. Especially if it wasn’t one of his own. Finally, with ten seconds left on the clock and the whole room in stunned, tight silence, the air so thrumming with nerves that it vibrated around him, Tom turned around.

“Maddison, I love you. Tim, you know everything I could say,” he murmured, his green and gold eyes solemn.

He knew it was always guesswork and he wanted to let them both know how much he cared before he had to make a decision that could doom them all. He only faintly heard both of them return the sentiments, but it was enough to put his mind at ease. Tom lashed at a wire with his clippers and held his fucking breath as the timer stopped at two seconds. For a moment, he thought that it was time and space slowing down around him that didn’t make it go any further, but the longer he waited, nothing happened.

“Okay. Drinks are on The Arctics,” he said, standing up and turning his back on the bomb like it was yesterday’s news.

Cheers erupted around him and Jerome and Mitchell clapped him on the back as he strode past them and fell on his knees next to Maddison and Tim. He scooped Maddison up into his arms and kissed her deeply, not caring that his face was marred with blood from the men whose throats he had ripped out, or that he was shaking all over from the strain of the whole fucking day and what he had just done. Her hands wrapped around his neck tightly and she smiled the most gorgeous smile even while they kissed. When he finally pulled back, he grabbed Tim and crushed him in a hug as well.

They’d been through spots just as tight as this one, with the clock running out and death more than a certainty, and they’d walked out. But it had never felt so significant than it did now, knowing that his two baby boys were waiting for him to come home, and that his mates were… well, that he had two mates. Everything was coming together and he couldn’t have been gladder for it.

“Crisis averted,” Tom heard Jerome say behind him, talking into the earpiece. “Get the car, I think we need to get a few people out of here, and some other crap too.”

“I’ll go get the second one,” Mitchell said and headed out.

In the excitement, Tom had forgotten—or should he say, stopped caring?—about the deal they’d made with Ace, and he assumed Tim felt much the same. However, a promise was a promise and Jerome was going to hold them both to it, thankfully enough. Ace was not the kind of guy they needed as an enemy at this point.

“If you ever fucking sneak off like that again, I swear…” Tom threatened, but the smile on his lips made all his words sort of shallow.

“You’ll come get me?” Maddison offered, giggling.

“Definitely,” Tom and Tim said in almost unison.

“I’m sorry, though. I didn’t want you guys to get into any more trouble than you were already in on my account. I thought I could do something. And I think I did! My friend Charlie said—”

Tom hushed her with a finger on her lips, smiling gently. Blake and his demands were the furthest thing from his mind. What Tom wanted was to go home, lay his mate on the bed, fuck her until she couldn’t see straight, and then maybe worry about something else. Like his wounds, or his future in The Firm, or anything completely unimportant like that. But he loved her enthusiasm about the whole thing. It warmed him inside and out.

“We’ll have plenty of time for all of that,” Tim said, his voice getting that same, deep growl to it that Tom knew his must have had, looking at Maddison’s blushing face and imagining what it would look like when she was screaming their names.

“Yup, you will. So get up and let’s get this shit out of here before Hemingway or any of the other teams show up. You know gunfire in a major building won’t stay under the radar for long. Is this stuff safe to move?” Jerome asked, his voice more of a bark than anything else.

It got both of the wolves scrambling into action.

“Yup, without anything to feed the first detonation, they’re safe to move.”

“Okay, the cars will be out back in a minute, let’s start hauling,” Jerome said, rolling up his sleeves and throwing his rifle over his shoulder. “Jordan, keep an eye for any stray mutts we need to put down. Let’s get this done fast,” Jerome said.

Tim helped Maddison up and she was tasked with getting into the first vehicle she could as fast as she could. They were racing against the clock already and the Crawley twins were distracted enough by her smell alone, not to mention her presence. Tom hated to have her out of his immediate sight, but he checked on her every time he took another armful of highly fucking dangerous armaments into the vehicles, making sure she was still there, and still smiling that angelic smile of hers.

They cleaned up fast enough, storing all of the armaments in one car, and Tim took the wheel, leaving with Mitchell to do the drop-off with Ace. Jerome called in the situation, telling Hemingway the whole story—well, as much as they could anyway—as the rest of them piled into the other car and sped off seconds before ambulances and the police arrived.

Tom’s arm was around Maddison and their foreheads were resting together as Jordan put pressure on his leg wound and wrapped it up as best as he could on the bumpy ride. Tom wouldn’t have cared if his leg fell off at that point. Maddison was sitting next to him and everything was going to be all right. He’d make sure of it.