Without Fear by Reese Knightley



“Logan, he’s coming your way!” The shout came through the mic tucked into his ear.

Logan Cobalt pulled his weapon, slammed through the exit door, and out into the pitch-black alleyway.

Gunfire and a bullet cleaving into the concrete by his head sent him diving for cover. He slammed onto the hard surface with a grimace.

Well, that answered that question. There was more than one perp.

Belly crawling, he took cover next to a large dumpster. Leaping into a crouch, he darted a quick glance around the metal corner before raising his arm around to return the gunfire.

The door behind him cracked open and Felix Acosta slipped out, fisting the back of his shirt and slowing him down. He squinted over his shoulder.

Felix flashed him a cocky grin in the dim light. “Thought you could use a little help,” the smartass said, releasing him.

“Cover me,” he growled.

Felix moved forward and fired off several rounds in the direction of the gunfire.

“Watch it, fucker!” Jaxon growled through the mic. It sounded like a bullet had come too close to him.

“Oops,” Felix laughed, but he could tell the cocky man wasn’t sorry at all.

“Seriously?” Ryder snapped, and the man’s irritation was heard clearly through the mic.

“I shot above your heads, you idiots,” Felix snarked back, but really, the guy was immune to their bitching. Jaxon, Ryder, and Felix had worked together for too long to count to be at odds and, as usual, Logan ignored them.

Darting across the wide alley to the other side where several cars were parked, he slid in between two cars just as several bullets punched holes into the metal of a dark-brown four door.

“They’re coming in from the south,” Jaxon’s voice growled in his ear. “Hayden, check in.”

“Copy,” Hayden reported. “Gunner and I have crowd control. We’ll keep the riffraff from reaching the back alley.”

“Brick? Ryder?”

“On Jaxon’s six,” Ryder answered.

“Coming out the door after you, Logan and Felix,” Brick rumbled.

Logan had put all of Cobalt Security on this particular job. His men were some of the best in the world at what they did; be it as a security unit or as private bodyguards. With a two-week lull in the personal bodyguard sector, he’d accepted a security job for the whole team.

He was starting to regret that decision.

Protecting a popular television host when the man started receiving death threats was hard enough, but when said host didn’t cut back on his outings, it made it even more difficult.

“Anyone have eyes on how many shooters?” Logan barked through the mic.

“Two, from what I can see,” Jaxon responded, confirming his earlier thought that there was definitely more than one gunman.

“Felix and Brick, stay back and let’s hold fire. Jaxon and Ryder, try to drive them toward us.”

With a short response of agreement, his two men pushed forward. A few moments later, gunfire echoed at the other end of the long, dimly lit alleyway.

Logan edged back between two cars and waited. Gravel crackled beneath a boot, and from the undercarriage of the car, he spotted a set of boots and ankles. The guy was hunched over and moving as quickly as possible along the side of the car.

The perp reached the end of the car and still, Logan waited. Where was the other one?

The suspect glanced over, pointed his gun, and Logan was out of time. The shot cleaved into the hubcap with a dull thud. His own shot hit the guy in the chest and should have taken him out. It took him only seconds to realize the perp was wearing a bulletproof vest.

Logan lunged upward, taking the man flat to the ground, and the perp’s gun skittered across the wet pavement.

From the other end of the alley, gunfire rang out. Logan winced when the suspect flipped them and his back slammed to the ground. He brought his gun up between them, but the guy clamped his hands around his with a death grip. Oh, no you don’t, you fucker!

Logan grappled with the gun, then lifted his knee and jammed it into the man’s ribs, but it did nothing to dislodge the guy. With both hands wrapped around the gun, he pressed and slowly turned the weapon back toward the guy.

The perp renewed his struggle, trying to gain control of the gun. Logan rolled and slammed the suspect’s head down into the concrete. He clenched his teeth and power-turned the gun until the muzzle nudged the perp’s shoulder. Logan pulled the trigger.

The man screamed and released his grip. Logan rolled off the guy and the suspect moved away, moaning in agony.

Gunfire echoed between the other suspect and his team. A force and then burning pain slammed into his arm and he toppled backward.


Even through the burning pain, he kept his gun pointed at the moaning suspect.

“Boss! Fuck!” Felix shouted, and he heard the panic in the man’s voice.

“Stay put!” he barked and let out the breath he’d been holding.

Sweat dripped into his eyes, but he didn’t move to wipe the sting away. Instead, he continued holding the gun steady on the suspect.

A few seconds later, all gunfire died out completely, sending the alleyway into an eerie silence.

“Second suspect is down,” Ryder snarled flatly into the quiet.

Thank fuck.

Tyler Brick was on the guy with the wounded shoulder in seconds. They called him Brick, not so much for his last name, but more for his size. The guy was a mountain standing well over six feet and weighing in at over two hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle. His clients felt very safe when Brick was on the job. The massive mountain of a man flipped the suspect over and handcuffed his hands behind his back despite the perp’s screams.

Logan lowered the gun and dropped back to the wet pavement.

Gazing up at the star-filled sky, he panted through the pain in his shoulder.

Felix was at his side in seconds.

“Logan, talk to me.” Felix reached down and ripped his button-down shirt open looking for the bullet wound.

“Hey! That was one of my good shirts,” he bitched.

“You’re shot!” Felix scowled, helping him to sit up and lean against the tire of the brown car.

“Yeah, in the arm,” he groused back, fingering the tears along the button holes.

Felix dropped the shirt tails and instead, tore off the shirt’s arm.

Logan snorted and Felix shot him a furious glare, and then tied the torn shirt sleeve around the wound before sitting back on his haunches.

Jaxon and Ryder came jogging down the alley.

“Where’s the other guy?” He squinted.

Ryder pointed at Jaxon. “Head shot. He’s gone.”

“What? Was I just supposed to wound him?” Jaxon asked innocently. All tattoos and attitude, the hot as fuck, long-haired bodyguard cracked his neck and smirked.

That the other guy was dead didn’t surprise him, Jaxon was one of the best shooters he’d ever come across.

“Ambulance is on its way,” Ryder murmured.

“I don’t need a damned ambulance.” He frowned and moved to stand up.

Only, he couldn’t manage it when the world swayed and dipped. Felix reached out and gripped him around the shoulders and brought him back down into a sitting position.

Truthfully, Logan was glad for the help.