Noah stared back at him with knowing mockery. “I left trackers on the vehicles.”
Of course he hadn’t left bodies, just as they hadn’t allowed any of the assailants to see who had shot back, wounding their men. A few possibly fatally, but they would still have enough life left in them to get out of the area before witnesses arrived.
“They were moving into the driveway when Noah and I slipped in,” Nik said. “I couldn’t get in position fast enough so I elected to take those coming in behind the garage instead.”
“They moved in stages, Jordan,” Micah reported. “They were looking to see what defenses she had. They hit the patio first, then moved into the driveway exit, then the back garage door. It was well coordinated, armed, and manned, with about two-minute intervals set between each.”
“Did they suspect we were there?” Noah questioned. “Ten men is a lot for one little girl.”
The pain was like an inferno tearing through her sensitive flesh, but it wasn’t the first time that had happened. She had taken her first flesh wound at age twelve and her first bullet at fifteen. She hadn’t forgotten what it felt like. But this time, it didn’t incapacitate her.
“You can thank the little girl for that,” Micah grunted, glancing in the mirror once again. “Until her disappearance into the Elite Ops, Tehya Talamosi was well known for her ability to do serious harm to the men sent after her.”
Jordan glanced over at her once again to catch the quick blinking of her eyes and the sheen of moisture on her cheeks.
“They suspected I had help. Then next time, they will come prepared.”
“They suspected,” Jordan affirmed. “There’s no doubt in my mind they knew. I’m just very, very curious how they knew, because it’s not possible we were seen.”
He knew his men.
“We never saw them either,” Noah pointed out. “Yet, they knew when she left the house.”
“They know too much,” Jordan agreed. “It’s time we figure out how they know, what they know, and who they’re telling.”
As they discussed security, logistics, and plans, Tehya found herself deliberately blocking them out. It was that or begin screaming, howling from the pain, both emotional as well as physical.
The flesh wound on her right shoulder was nothing compared to the agony tearing through her heart, though.
Her house. Her home.
It was destroyed.
Her little patio, her beautiful little kitchen.
Her wide open living room.
It was all ruined.
She stared straight ahead and tried not to think about her house. The thick, soft rugs she had spent so much time searching for, the comfortable furniture she had bought with relaxing laziness in mind, the gleaming wood floors that she polished once a week.
It had been her haven, and now that haven had been taken from her.
Her throat was tight with unshed tears, her insides vibrating with rage at the thought of strangers tromping through her home.
Her home.
She had had so little in the past that she could call her own. For the first time, she had believed she could finally live rather than simply exist.
How wrong she had been.
“Are you okay?” Jordan was looking down at her. Obviously becoming concerned as she sat silently beside him.
Could he see the paleness of her skin, possibly the glitter of tears in her eyes? At least he couldn’t see the blood slowly easing down her arm.
“I’m fine.” It took effort to make herself sound normal. To hold back the tears that wanted so desperately to fall. She sounded hoarse instead, and a few tears had escaped.
She’d learned long ago, a lifetime ago, that tears didn’t help, the pain didn’t abate because they were shed. Not the pain in her heart or the pain from a gunshot.