by Norris, Kris
Laying down cover fire as they popped out then made for the next doorway. Kam had it open in record time and they dove through the entry before more bullets impacted the wall. Ricocheted off the metal door.
They paused just long enough to get a bearing of where the armed men were before more cover fire—more running. They didn’t stop this time, continuing to the end of the hallway, then right. Bits of drywall sprayed across the floor followed by pieces of glass as the exit sign shattered in the corridor.
Six took the lead, trusting Crow to cover their asses—keep Kam from catching a bullet or ten. With the way these guys were unloading ammunition, it was a surprise they had any left. It also made Six question where the rest of his team was. Obviously, Gibson’s garbled message had been exactly what Six had assumed it was—a warning. So, they knew something was up. Yet, no reinforcements. Colt and Ellis hadn’t raced up to meet them or called on the comm. Which either meant they’d run into their own resistance, had somehow missed the dull pop of gunfire, or…
Nope, not going there. Not assuming the worst.
Six paused at the heavy fire door to the stairs long enough to see if he’d get a flash of danger before yanking it open and diving through. He rolled to his feet sweeping the staircase, holding his position as Kam and Crow rushed through, shutting the door firmly behind them. They didn’t wait for his nod, just did their own sweep then started down. Feet tapping the steps. Six followed behind, inhaling roughly when one of his time leaks gave him a ghosted image of men bursting through the lower door just as Kam and Crow reached the bottom. The spray of bullets directed at them.
The flash had Six palming the railing at the first landing then launching himself over. He dropped several feet—rolling like he had when he’d dove through the doorway to cushion the impact—springing to his feet as the door opened in front of him.
A step and a swing of his arm had the lead guy stumbling sideways, assault rifle unloading a few rounds against the wall. A kick had the next tumbling backwards as one of his Ka-Bars hit the mercenary in the throat—shooting his feet forward as he crumpled to the ground. Six managed to dodge the last man’s punch, catching him with an elbow before downing him with the butt end of his gun to the man’s head.
He dropped just as a hand landed on his shoulder. Six spun, but the asshole he’d shoved sideways hit the wall as Crow barreled into him. Two seconds and the creep was down, blood pooling beneath him.
Crow shook his head, nodding his thanks at Six as he stepped over the men, pausing at the door. They cleared the immediate hallway then darted out, getting to the junction when a barrage of bullets hit the walls around them.
Six grabbed a flash bang and tossed it, staying behind the wall until the device had detonated. Then, they were off. Weaving through the smoke—shooting or kicking anyone that moved. Quickly making their way to the center section. Unlike the second story, this floor had some open areas—what looked like foyers between groups of offices—positioned across the space. Six caught a glimpse of Colt and Ellis pinned down on the other side, a substantial force fanned out in an arc around them.
Christ, McCormick must have brought every damn agent he had left from his rogue groups, which meant Cannon and the others were probably facing similar issues outside. Not surprising since they hadn’t made it inside, yet.
Crow darted in beside him, keeping his body in front of Kam’s as he ducked down behind stack of old metal cabinets that had been upended onto their side. Not great protection but at least the metal was better than drywall or wood. “Looks like our friends are determined to get that intel. I’ll go right, you left. We’ll make our way to Colt and Ellis then head for the door. I’m sure Midnight and Gibson will help us out once we reach it. No real way for them to get an accurate shot off in here. The windows are too high.”
Six nodded. “Agreed, we need—”
The next flash hit him hard. Like a physical blow to his head. A guy stepping out of the shadows to their right, capping Crow then aiming at Kam. Blood splattering as they both went down. The dull thud of them hitting the floor echoing through Six’s chest.
He moved without thinking. Aware he’d get hit in order to save them both. That he’d have to pop out as he grabbed Crow but shoved Kam. Not that the knowledge would stop him. Anything for the team. For her—Six would die a thousand times over.
But Kam met him halfway—as if she’d seen the whole damn thing play in his head. Had shared his time leak because she was moving with him. Mimicking his attack. Shooting toward the unseen enemy as she pivoted out of his range, effectively stepping in front of him as he yanked on Crow’s vest—tumbling the other man backwards.
There was a moment of eerie stillness. Of McCormick’s man emerging out of the darkness. The bullet that would have hit Crow in the head whizzing past and impacting the wall behind them. Of the guy’s arm arcing in a semi-circle as he fired at them.
Then, it rushed ahead. Kam grunting as she fired, hitting the guy in the head. Sending him crashing into the wall behind him, then onto the floor. Still. Silent. Just like Kam crumpling beside him. Unmoving at his side.
Crow shouted something, but all Six heard was the echo of his blood pounding in his ears. His heart thrashing against his chest. The next set of flashes were worse. Physically hurt. More men. More blood. More death. His team. His damn family. And he knew, if he didn’t do something now…they’d all die.
Six didn’t wait to hear what Crow was shouting. Just caught a glimpse of his buddy bending beside Kam as Six dove across the empty space, rolling to his feet with the bastard’s assault rifle in his hand. Then, he was moving. Quick-stepping down the hallway, eliminating the men before they’d even had a chance to turn his way—realize what he was doing. He didn’t have to think about which direction to move to avoid any retaliation, trusting the constant stream of flashes to guide him. Keep him a moment ahead of everyone else.
Ten seconds, and the area was clear. Colt and Ellis rising from behind a pillar. Flecks of blood on their shirts, but nothing fatal. Nothing like…
Six ran. Trusted Colt and Ellis to have his back as he covered the distance in the space of heartbeat. Was dropping down beside Kam before the next pounded against his ribs. Blood on her side, drenching her shirt—right through the vest he’d given her. Six didn’t know if she’d hit her head or if the giant pool of blood beneath her was the cause, but either way she was out. Didn’t respond when he called her name. Tapped her cheek. Hell, pinched her damn fingernail.
“Six!”
He ignored Crow, picked up Kam, then started running. Racing down the hallway, hoping his damn senses warned him of any threat. Not that it mattered, If he lost Kam…
He hit the rear exit at a full sprint, twisting into the push release, bouncing off the metal, then spinning into the growing darkness. He didn’t chance the side Cannon was on. If his buddy hadn’t reached them by now, it meant there were more men. More possibilities of someone else getting to him before he got to Brady. To the only chance she had because by the time they got an ambulance or drove to the nearest hospital, she’d be dead. Six knew it. Felt it soul-deep.
He heard the click of the hammer with just enough time to feint right—catch the shot across his upper shoulder instead of in the chest, or worst, have Kam take it as he cradled her in his arms. The force spun him, again. Knocked him against the wall.
He managed to stay on his feet—keep Kam nestled in his arms—as he stared into the barrel of McCormick’s gun. Slader stood beside him, assault rifle aimed their way. A half a dozen men lined up behind them. Crow was in the doorway, Glock leveled at the other men. Expression cold. Unforgiving.
No one moved. Breathed. As they all stood there. Staring down the competition until McCormick shook his head.
The man took a step forward, his gun still trained on Six. “I knew I should have eliminated your entire crew back when I was hunting Ellis, but… I guess I’m getting sloppy.”
Colt shouldered up beside Crow, eyes
narrowed. Mouth grim. “And I should have shot you between the eyes on that pier.”
“Guess we all have regrets. Now, we can either do this the civilized way or we can all die. All I want is the thumb drive, and we’ll leave. What’s it going to be?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Shit. Another clusterfuck. Only, this one might actually cost Kam her life. If Six didn’t get her to Brady—didn’t stop the fucking bleeding and remove the bullet—she’d die. And it would be his fault. For not stepping in front. Not stopping her from shoving him aside.
For not being the soldier she’d needed him to be.
Colt shook his head. His buddy wasn’t backing down. If anything, he took a small step forward. Engaged in the fight just a bit more. “Not happening.”
“Don’t be foolish, Sievers. There’s only one way any of us are walking away from this still breathing. Live to fight another day, son.”
Colt scoffed. “Lose the battle, but win the war?”
“Exactly.”
“Bullshit. You’re a threat. And we’ve been trained to deal with those.”
“I was a Green Beret long before I joined the CIA. I was capping threats while you were feeling up your high school sweetheart. Give me the damn drive or this ends ugly. And bloody.”
McCormick shook his head. “Kam’s running out of time. The drive. Now.”
Another flash. Colt shooting. Then, everyone returning fire. His buddies dropping. Kam bleeding out in his arms.
“Fine.” Six glanced at Colt, gaze fixed. Unwavering. Praying his buddy caught on. That they just needed a bit more time. Something was coming. Six felt it. Though, he couldn’t see anything beyond the inevitable if his team opened fire, he knew he just needed a few more seconds…
Six focused McCormick. “You can have the drive. It’s in Kam’s pocket. I’ll have to put her down, first.”
McCormick didn’t reply, just nodded, following Six’s every movement. How he knelt, balancing Kam across his thighs—allowing one arm to rest across her chest as he braced her against him. He holstered his gun then reached into her pocket, grabbed the drive—discretely palming the flash bang in her vest as he removed his hand. He curled his fingers around the top, gripping just enough he’d be able to pull it free and toss it in one fluid motion. Then, he snagged the pin with his other thumb, hiding everything behind her arm.
“It’s all yours.” Six held up the drive, yanking the pin free in the process. “I hope you fucking choke on it.”
He tossed both at McCormick’s feet, hitting the ground and covering Kam as the canister erupted, far too close for any of them to be free from the effects. But, damn it, all he needed was a second. A chance for him and his teammates to gain the advantage—pray their training kicked in before the guys McCormick had working for him. That years of dynamic entries—busting through doors with smoke grenades choking the air, flash bangs screwing up their nervous systems—they’d recover quicker. That maybe Colt or Crow could get a few shots off from nothing more than muscle memory. Sheer grit.
Pain strummed through Six’s head, a dull ringing echoing in his ears. He blinked through the fuzzy images, squinting in an attempt to get any focus. Smoke filled the area, only the odd, dark shape distinguishable through the white haze.
Six tried to stumble to his feet, failed, then tried, again. Took three attempts and using the damn wall for leverage, but he finally managed to stand. Kam still pressed against him. Only, now, he felt her blood. Warm. Sticky. Soaking through his shirt. Covering his skin. She needed help. Now.
He shuffled Kam in his arms, hoping he wasn’t hurting her, as he reached for his Sig. Everything felt slow. Labored. His hand landing then slipping off the handle. His fingers not quite wrapping correctly around the grip once he’d finally pulled the damn thing out of the holster. All he needed was a target…
Movement. From within the smoke. Not much. Just a blur, really. A shadow shifting the particles around. Making the smoke billow ever so slightly.
McCormick.
Six wasn’t sure how he knew. If it was a disjointed time leak or just a gut feeling. Didn’t care because the man was going down. Six raised his arm, cursed when it slipped back down, the weight too much to hold it elevated, before trying, again. The gun shook, not quite locked on target, but it would be enough.
It had to be enough.
He slid his finger inside the guard, focused on wrapping it around the trigger. The several pounds of force it would take to pull it. Move it that short distance in order to finally put an end to McCormick’s rule. All he needed was enough coordination to hold everything still for one second—get his damn muscles to work for that single heartbeat.
A shot. From off to this left. Dropping the shadowy figure—dropping McCormick. The man’s feet kicked forward, his body hitting the pavement with a sickening thud. Then, more shadows moving within the smoke. A couple more dropped, but most vanished. Retreating until there was nothing but the thinning haze—a few bodies on the ground.
A hand gripped Six’s shoulder, then Gibson’s blue eyes loomed in close. Shifting to look at Kam then back to Six. “Get her Coen. I’ll deal with anything left here. Go! Two blocks over then head north.”
Six nodded, then took off running. Stumbling, actually, as his muscles fought to engage—to obey the signals moving along his nerves. It wasn’t easy, or pretty, but he kept going. Crossing one street, down the sidewalk then across the other. A large trailer was parked in a vacant lot half a block to his right.
Six bolted toward it, each step strong than before. He must have yelled out. Or maybe Gibson had called his buddy. Six didn’t know—couldn’t fucking remember. Everything narrowed into the tunnel vision in front of him. Kam’s blood cooling against his skin. Either way, Brady opened the door while Six was still a few feet back—moved aside in order to let him climb the few shorts steps into the clinic.
“Table. At the far end.” Coen followed behind him, nudging Six aside after he’d placed Kam on the firm, flat surface. He looked up at Six, and there was something in the man’s eyes that held Six’s attention. It was haunted. Desolate. Like a man who’d seen the worse of humanity yet lived through it. Somehow maintained his own, but at a price.
“I see you fucked up your shoulder, again. I’ll deal with you after.” He nodded toward Kam. “Tell me what happened to her.”
Six shook his head, staring down at the puckered hole in her side as Coen cut away her shirt. Christ, he hadn’t even seen the man remove her vest—toss it on the floor against the wall. “I wasn’t fast enough. The guy wasn’t more than twenty feet away. Assault rifle. She hit him, but…”
But Six hadn’t stopped her from shoving him aside. Had gotten the damn flash too late. Or maybe he’d just taken too much time yanking Crow back. Hadn’t taken a large enough step in her direction. Either way, he’d failed.
“She lose consciousness right away?”
“I think she might have hit her head when she fell. I…I don’t know. But, yeah, she went out right away.”
Brady nodded, looking up when Crow, Gibson, Colt and Ellis stormed into the place. “Gib.”
That’s all Coen said. The guy’s name, but his friend moved forward, gently grabbed Six and eased him back. “Let’s give Coen some room to work, yeah?”
Six shook his head, pulling free. “I’m not leaving her. Fuck, I should have stopped the bleeding. Gotten her here sooner. I—”
“You were a bit busy, armed men and the like. Coen’s pretty talented with a scalpel. Has saved my arse more times than I care to admit. And in far worse conditions. It’ll be okay, mate.”
“No. You don’t understand. I saw it. I knew that bastard was going to shoot. Her. Crow. But she somehow moved with me. Beat me to it. I should have been able to change this.”
Gibson frowned, looking over at the rest of the team. “Come on. You can explain it while we let Coen work. Get some pressure on your shoulder so you don’t pass out on us while you’re waiting your turn. Ellis
? Love, do you think you’re up to giving Coen a hand?”
Six took a step back. “I’ll help him.”
“No, mate. You’re going to tell us what you meant. Let me start treating that wound. Ellis isn’t the squeamish type. And Coen really just needs someone to hand him things. Read off some numbers.” He leaned toward Ellis as she passed them. “Get the curtain, love.”
Six grabbed Gibson by the shirt, dragging him in close. “Get out of my way, mate.”
“You’re a tough son of a bitch, Six, but I’m pretty sure I can kick your arse as well as you do mine, so… We won’t accomplish much by going a few rounds, other than making more patients for Coen. So, why don’t you put your energy into telling me what happened? Why you think it’s your fault?”
Some of the strength drained from his hands as he looked at the curtain blocking off the back half of the clinic—the part where Kam was bleeding out. Maybe dead, already…
He bowed his head, staring at the floor. Feeling as if it was rushing up toward him. “It is.”
“And how’s that?”
“I knew the bastard was going to shoot but…” He pulled away, spun then paced toward the other end. Pushing through his friends until he could slam his hand on the side—use the pain to help numb some of the anger burning beneath his skin.
It didn’t help. Nothing would help.
“But?”
“But I didn’t stop it!” He turned to face them, fisting his hands as his breathing kicked up. “I knew everyone was going to get killed, and I wasn’t fast enough. Didn’t change it all like I was supposed to.”
Crow took a step forward, hands up. “Six. Buddy. This isn’t on you. We had no way of knowing McCormick would have so many guys. That we’d all get overrun. Hell, we’re all alive because of you. The way you moved through the facility, then that play with the flash bang—you saved us.”