Devil and the Deep (The Deep Six) by Julie Ann Walker Read Free Book Online Page A

danger made something click inside him. Something that was black of heart and sharp of claw. Something he’d inherited from his bastard of a father.
    It was a side of himself he tried to keep hidden, keep buried. But there were times like this when he gladly let it go free. It roared and slashed, filling him with deadly purpose.
    Battle mode is what LT called it.
    Bran simply called it his monster.
    It consumed all the light and laughter in him and left only darkness and death. But it was what had kept him alive through too many blood-soaked missions to count. And hopefully , it was what was going to help him save the five innocent people on the beach.
    “Bran!” Maddy choked, her Texas accent splitting his name into two syllables: Brae-yan. Her wide, heavily lashed eyes threatened to suck him in like a whirlpool when he gave her a cursory glance. “You came!”
    I will always fly to your side with all the courage and destruction in my heart!
    Whoa. Where the hell had that come from? But he knew. It was his monster. The thing was pure, red-eyed emotion.
    He forced himself to ignore the catch in her voice and instead slid his gaze to the two men who’d been guarding the girls. They’d swung their SCAR-L rifles in his direction the instant he issued his command, and the way the dick-lickers handled the assault weapons told him they weren’t amateurs.
    But he already knew that.
    For the first ten minutes after stealthily making landfall, he and Mason had slunk around the island, watching. Watching as the mysterious team assembled their hostages. Observing the way they carried themselves. Cataloging all those details both big and small that would eventually give them the advantage. Like…the short, mouthy dude favored his right knee. There’s an injury there that can be exploited . Like…the asshole with the Southern accent had trouble using his nondominant left hand. So if it comes down to CQB— close quarters combat —always approach from his weaker side. All of this they’d filed away. And all the while formulating a plan. This plan.
    “You drop your weapon!” the dude still drawing down on Maddy thundered. Bran knew two angry, red laser dots glowed on his chest. He imagined he could feel them there, boring, burning, inciting the darker side of him until his blood was a conflagration coursing through his veins, his heart a fiery fist that pounded flames through his chest.
    “I’ll give you one more chance!” he yelled, feeling the warm waves crashing against the backs of his calves. A blade of seaweed slipped by his ankle, slick as an eel. “Drop your weapons and you might live!”
    His finger twitched on the trigger. It would be so easy. Just a couple of pounds of pressure. Just a gentle contraction of familiar muscles against familiar resistance and bang! Done. One less evil piece of shit on the Earth.
    “Ha!” The guy who seemed to be the leader cracked a laugh that echoed over the dark water. “In case you haven’t noticed, asswipe, you’re outnumbered!” He made a weird sucking noise against his teeth, like he was trying to remove a piece of stuck spinach.
    Asswipe, eh? Careful, gavone, or I might make you eat that insult along with that spinach.
    “I count four against one.” Bran hitched one shoulder casually. “Which means you’ll overwhelm and kill me in the end. But not before I take one of you with me.” He jerked his chin toward Lead A-Hole. “I’m thinking I’ll make you that one.”
    The man must have heard the truth in Bran’s tone. Bran could see his throat work over a hard swallow behind the fabric of the balaclava.
    That’s right. Go ahead and make my day.
    Before Lead A-Hole had a chance to respond, a red dot appeared on the chest of the man with the bum knee.
    Mason. Impeccable timing, my friend.
    “Uh-oh.” Bran tsked. “I hate to hafta tell you… No, wait. I love having to tell you that the odds just swung in my favor.”
    “What the—?” The guy glanced down at