Free Loose Ends by Tara Janzen Page A

Chronopolous, they didn’t know Conroy Farrel. They were expecting a man. They weren’t expecting Con.
    And she hadn’t been expecting damn Jack Traeger, but the other unknown Tango couldn’t be anybody else, which just made her wish … 
oh, hell
.
    This was going down right now.
    A shadow of movement down the outside edge of one of the loft’s huge windows caught her eye: Jack, half hidden by the adjacent brick wall, descending toward the loft’s balcony. He was hanging from a climbing harness, his red hair sticking half on end, as wild as he was, his face and the grace of his movements as familiar to her as the breadth of his shoulders and the quickness of his mind. He had a pack on his back, a carbine slung across his chest, and a small device in one hand.
    Oh, hell
. She held her breath for a heartbeat, recognizing an electronic detonator when she saw one. Red Dog’s hand instantly tightened on her wrist, her attention coming back full on her.
    “What is it?” the woman demanded.
    Scout dropped her gaze to the table, trying to keep from giving Jack away.
    “You’re never going to get out of here, Scout, not until we have him.” Red Dog’s hand tightened even more.
    It was as close to a threat as the woman had gotten in eight weeks. Then she got a little closer, tightening her grip again, applying another few pounds of pressure per square inch, enough to let Scout know this was serious, that she needed to make the right decision.
    Scout’s gaze flashed back to the woman, ready to protest the painful grip or do something about it, if she could, and in that moment, Jack made his move. An explosion from up on the roof shook the rafters and the walls. Plaster and dust and bits of building material rained down inside the loft, and before any of it could hit the floor, Red Dog had released her and leapt for the .22-caliber rimfire rifle she’d positioned on the kitchen counter—a tranquilizer gun.
    Oh, God. Oh, God
. The woman was so freaking fast. She had the weapon slung up and was signaling Kid Chronopolous almost before he’d broken for the door,and he reacted damn near instantly. It all happened in a flash, the two of them moving like clockwork. When Kid disappeared through the door, Red Dog moved back toward her.
    Oh, hell, no
, Scout thought. No way was she letting the tough woman get hold of her again.
    She whirled out of her chair, grabbing it with one hand on the back, keeping Red Dog’s attention on her, not giving her even a second’s chance to turn around and look out the loft window—but Jack had disappeared. He’d dropped to the balcony and moved behind the door leading into the loft.
    He was going to blow it. She knew it. Jack loved blowing up stuff. She hoped like hell that he used something a wee bit smaller than what had just gone off on the roof.
    Still moving, her grip tight, she brought the chair around with her, letting it pivot and rise as she got her feet under her. Kid Chaos was long gone into the hallway and no doubt flying up three flights of stairs. He’d find Jack’s rappelling line quick enough. God, everybody else in the building had to be heading this way, chasing Con.
    Using her momentum, she swung the chair sideways with all her strength, then released it at the apex of its arc, aiming it right at Red Dog, keeping the woman focused on her attack, on defending herself. When Jack blew the balcony door, Scout needed to get to it fast, like a bolt of lightning.
    She wanted out, yes, the quicker the better, but she also couldn’t let Red Dog get a shot off and knock out Jack Traeger. Oh, no. That pleasure was going to be all hers, someday soon, she swore it, if the two of them made it out of there alive. Except she’d be doing it with a right hook instead of a dope dart.
    But first, he was coming in.
    The explosion on the roof was still sending plaster down from the ceiling when the balcony door blew and her rescue ranger burst through, materializing out of a cloud of