Free No Rest for the Witches by Karina Cooper Page A

shook her head. Took a deep breath and let it out in a slow, silent exhale and tapped his fist, curled into her sweatshirt. He let go, and she stepped back, signaling to the right.
    Silas hesitated. What were the options? He needed backup, and when she wasn’t trying to prove something, Naomi was a hell of a choice.
    He nodded.
    Teeth flashed in a hard, white smile, she turned and vanished into the dark.
    If they were lucky, if there was a goddamned guardian angel nearby, they’d find Lillian, extract her, get out. But the odds of that weren’t good, which is why he’d sent Naomi around to flank the center. He’d put the target on himself, hope she could avoid any other guards, and put his own life in her hands.
    Not a choice he’d make under normal circumstance. He respected Naomi, had worked with her on the Leigh witch operation that had culminated in his “death.” Hell, he’d practically grown up in the orphanage with her.
    But he didn’t know how to fix her. Didn’t know how to even try.
    Maybe he’d have a man-to-man with Phin when he got back.
    And then avoid getting flayed by Naomi for interfering.
    His lips quirked at the corners. Squaring his shoulders, he forged into the dark.

 
    Chapter Nine
    T ake the right. Circle in and flank the middle.
    Naomi fumed as she made her way between the crates. She knew what Silas had just done; painting a huge fucking target on his back was the worst idea she’d heard all day. Right up there with bring Phin to the sanctuary .
    Even if that one had been hers.
    Fear lodged itself into her stomach, an icy knot that sucked the air out of her lungs and left her staggering. She grabbed the corner of a crate, clung to it as she sucked in a sudden, angry breath.
    This wasn’t the time. Damn it.
    This was why she couldn’t keep this crap up. Phin was a fucking distraction. She may not be a missionary anymore, but that didn’t mean Naomi got any sort of vacation. This little job right now proved that.
    She needed to stay focused. This wasn’t her first hostage extraction. It wouldn’t be her last, she was sure of it. Not if the Church had anything to say about it. Not as long as people like this unidentified witch kidnapped others.
    But even as she ran it all through in her head, as she seized desperately for the rationalization, she called herself a liar. Phin wasn’t the problem. She was.
    She never used to let her personal shit get in the way of the job.
    Lillian’s life depended on her now. Assuming she was still alive.
    Forcing her knees to straighten, Naomi pushed off the rusted, peeling metal surface of the empty container beside her and strode further into the warehouse. The dark lightened as she approached the single lamp hanging from the ceiling. Blue-tinged shadows filled the shipping crates, cast a miasma of ghostly gloom over the whole place. The crates were too high to see over, but as she got closer, she eased into a semi-crouch and concentrated on her role in this shitty plan.
    Circle in, flank the bad guys. Catch them by surprise.
    Only Silas got there first. As she slipped into a sheltered vee between crates, she saw his big form enter the circle of light. Saw him scan the borders of the all-too-coincidental clearing between crates.
    There was no sign of Lillian. No bad guy with a gun. Just an expanse of bare, dirty cement floor and nothing.
    â€œNow.”
    Shitfuck!
    All at once, the atmosphere went nuclear. The electrical grid shrieked, a buzz that rattled through every bone in her body, and the gloom shattered to nova-white. She covered her eyes, kneeling behind the crate, as gunfire erupted through the chaos.
    Blinded, she couldn’t do more than flail as hands grabbed her by the arms, hauling her out of her hiding place. She wrenched one arm free, blinking her streaming eyes, and slammed her fist into the body she felt beside her. Her knuckles cracked on plasteel, sent pain