Wes, cover my left flank!” Dalton shouted, his heart thumping as he kicked in the door and moved into the dimly lit room. “Holden, watch our six, dammit. Without Nash, we’re heavily outnumbered. If we don’t do this right, we’re never gonna make it out of Morg alive.”
“I got movement in the darkness behind us,” Holden announced. “I can’t frigging believe Nash ditched us at a time like this. I thought we were supposed to be a team.”
“Keep your head in the game, Holden,” Dalton said as something big and ugly stepped out of the shadows ahead of him and into the dim moonlight seeping through the skylight. “Nash made his choice. If he’d rather spend the weekend hanging out with Bristol than help us, that’s his call. We’re gonna have to pull together and pick up the slack.”
Secretly, Dalton wasn’t shocked Nash had bailed on them. They’d just gotten back two days ago from their deployment and had put in very little effort prepping for this mission. At the best of times, trying to go into a situation like this was tough, but without advanced planning, it was nearly suicidal. Nash had decided he’d rather spend his time with a sexy woman rather than dying some godawful horrible death with them. Dalton couldn’t blame his friend.
But he didn’t have to like it either.
Especially when that big, slow-moving thing in front of him turned out to have about twenty friends moaning, groaning, and hungry for blood.
Rare thunder boomed in the background and the sound of rain beating on the windows of his apartment reminded Dalton that at least they were inside. “All right, guys. This is it. I’m going straight at these damn things. Cover me.”
Jumping high into the air, he bounced off the metal catwalk above him, then came down right in the middle of the crowd of mindless killers and started roasting zombies with his flamethrower. All around him, bullets started spraying as his teammates tried to cover his aggressive move. It was a risky attack, but they were one man down and out of better options.
Then someone knocked on the door of his apartment, distracting the crap out of him and almost causing him to toast Wes’s avatar by mistake.
“Ignore that!” Wes yelled, moving to the side and reloading. “Stay on target.”
A few seconds later, the knocking came again. Dalton yanked his headset off and tossed it on the coffee table with his laptop. “Pause the game.”
“We can keep going without you,” Holden said. “You can catch up.”
“Yeah, just like last time, right?” Dalton snorted as he got up and headed for the door. “When you got your ass whacked in twenty seconds without me.”
Dalton didn’t bother looking over his shoulder to see if Wes and Holden were going to do the smart thing, but he heard them groan in acquiescence. Hopefully, he could get rid of whoever was at the door and get back to the game. After coming back from deployment, their chief had put all of them on a four-day pass, saying they needed a break. Dalton wasn’t sure about that but Call of Duty: Black Ops III was definitely a good way to burn through a few down days, especially since the weather was so crappy.
He cursed as whoever was at the door knocked again, more insistently this time. If it turned out to be the old man from across the hall complaining about the noise, Dalton swore he was going to do something violent.
He jerked open the door, ready to roast whoever the hell was out there, but stopped when he found a beautiful woman with long, blond hair standing there staring at him. She was soaking wet, proof that the rain out there was as bad as it sounded.
On the bright side, the rain had plastered the woman’s T-shirt to her skin, revealing more curves than a San Francisco street map. Damn, what a body.
That was when he realized he recognized those curves.
He lifted his gaze to the woman’s face. Even though it carried more cares and concerns than he remembered, there was no doubt who the hell was standing on his doorstep.
His traitorous frigging heart actually tightened in his chest.
“Kimber?” he said slowly, hoping he was wrong.
He’d heard once that every person in the world had a doppelganger out there, someone who looked exactly like them. And after that insane mission down in Mexico when Nash had been able to play the role of an international arms dealer simply because he’d been a dead ringer for the guy, Dalton was ready to accept the possibility.
When she nodded, Dalton had to face reality. Kimber Grant, the woman who’d dumped his ass five years ago, was standing outside his apartment dripping rainwater all over the carpeted floor in the hallway.