I turned back to the handheld, my frustration growing with every swipe of my finger.
I paused, and swiped back a few images. There was something labeled “ldr” along the far wall behind us. At first, I had thought it was the letters “IDR”, but then it clicked. It was a ladder, leading up to the roof.
I tapped Solomon on the shoulder and made the hand signals for “follow me”. He nodded, adjusting his grip on the rifle. Taking a deep breath, I straightened up enough to peek out from over the top of the crate. The immediate area was clear.
Moving cautiously, I squat-walked down rows of shelves containing boxes. At the end of the first row, I peered around the corner. There was nobody down the next row, and I could see the ladder just ahead of us. I turned back to Solomon and nodded before spinning around the corner, my gun held up.
I moved quickly, thoroughly checking each row we passed before advancing to the next. I felt the press of time and looked at my watch just as we got to the ladder. It had been four minutes since the last conversation with Owen. I had no idea what was going on with him, but hopefully he took the initiative and would blow the distraction charge soon.
Assuming he wasn’t dead by now.
I pushed that thought away quickly and placed my back against a shelf full of boxes. I nodded to Solomon. He secured his weapon with a quick tug to the strap, tightening it to his back, and then sucked in his breath. Immediately, he faded from view, leaving his gun and bag floating in midair. I cringed, but it was the best we could do at the moment. Hopefully, no one would notice.
I counted to ten, trying to give him enough time to get up the ladder before I started my ascent. I envied his control over the suit, and dreaded having to use my own.
After enough time had passed, I slung the rifle over my back. I moved to the ladder quickly, and was just in the process of contracting my muscles when a warden came around the corner, his flashlight cutting over me.
A small sound of alarm escaped my lips, and I whipped around, grabbing the rungs of the ladder and climbing as the man let out a gasp.
I continued to clench my muscles, and was several rungs up when the first gunshot exploded about three feet to the left of me, concrete exploding and spraying me with dust and shrapnel. I narrowed my eyes and continued to climb, when another shot sounded, also going wide.
I felt a stinging in my side as a line of fire exploded by my ribs, a third gunshot going off. I looked up at the twenty feet of ladder I still had to climb before I reached the top. A chill rushed down my spine as I realized the man’s next bullet wasn’t going to miss.
Grabbing the left side of the ladder, I swung myself to one side and brought up my gun just as he fired. The bullet impacted a space between the rungs where my chest had been. I reached around and grabbed my rifle, bringing it up—one handed—and hip fired, catching the man in the shoulder.
He fell to the ground with a scream, clutching his arm, and I dropped the rifle, letting it dangle from the strap as I scrambled the rest of the way up the ladder. By the time I was at the top, Solomon had reappeared and was holding the door open for me, waving at me to hurry up.
The sound of more guards arriving sent waves of anxiety through me. I reached up a hand to Solomon, and his hand encircled my wrist, hauling me up. I kicked at the door as I slid through it, slamming it shut with my foot.
“Much better than ventilation ducts,” I gasped, sucking the cool night air in through my lungs.
Solomon grunted in agreement as he placed his hands on my side. There was a small tear in the fabric, and I was bleeding, but fortunately, the wound was shallow. I pushed his hands away. “I’m fine,” I said, as I got up.
I had been hurt worse during martial arts training. I was pulling my gun over my shoulder when a spattering of rifle fire filled the air. After exchanging looks, Solomon and I raced over to the side of the building it had come from. The scene before us was that of a nightmare—dozens of wardens filled the yard. Their attention was on the warehouse on the other side of our building, but there were too many for us to risk a mad dash to where we had left the van.
I checked my watch—only three minutes for us to get to the van and get out. I looked at Solomon, who returned my gaze, his face ashen.
We didn’t have to say it—it was readily apparent that we were in deep trouble. I knelt and started going through the items in my bag. Solomon dropped down beside me, his expression inquisitive.
“Here,” I whispered, thrusting a bundle of rope into his hands. “We’re going to tie the rope to that vent there, and then, when I give you the signal, you’re going to rappel down. I’ll buy you some time.”
He studied me for a long moment, and then shook his head. “No, I’ll buy you the time. You have people to get back to.”
I growled in irritation. “So do you. Besides, they’ll want me more than they’ll want you,” I said, meeting his gaze with a hard one of my own.
“What are you going to do? Stand on the edge and announce ‘Hello, my name is Violet Bates, come and get me’?”
I frowned at the dismissive quality of his voice. “It’ll get their attention,” I argued.
“You’ll get as far as, ‘My name is—’ and catch a bullet.”
“I can’t have your death on my hands,” I hissed at him, standing up.
“Well, that isn’t your choice to make, Violet. We’re a team. We need to—”
Whatever Solomon intended to say was lost in the explosion. The force of it shook the building, and instinctively we fell to the floor, curling our bodies into fetal positions to absorb the impact tremors. We stared at each other, waiting until the roar had slightly diminished.
I heard frightened shouts from the wardens below, and I stood up, running over to where a bright glow could be seen. Smoke plumed, filling the air with the smell of fire. Below me, the wardens were running around, panicked.
I scanned the area of the warehouse and spotted two lone figures loping away from the scene toward the van. There was a flash of gold as one of them paused, looking back, and I realized it was Owen.
But where was the laser? I looked at his hands but saw nothing. Was it possible that they had decided to abandon the mission?
Solomon came up beside me. “There’s a path that’s clear to the south. If we hurry, we can make it back to the van in time.”
I whirled and gave him an incredulous look, unable to process what he was saying. “Owen doesn’t have the objective,” I said.
He looked over my shoulder and his face tightened. “He’s also missing a man—I don’t know if it’s Amber or Quinn, but if he had to abandon them in the warehouse, then the mission is over.”
A fresh wave of panic bubbled up to the surface. “No! We can’t just leave it there! We need it—Viggo needs it!” I grabbed his forearm, my fingers digging in tightly. “The wardens, they’re distracted—we can just—”
Solomon yanked his hand out of mine. “No, Violet. We can’t go get it now. The wardens are everywhere, and even more will be coming.”
I shook my head, refusing to see reason in his words. I backed away slowly, pulling my gun around my body and putting it between us like a shield. “No,” I said. “There’s still time! We can do this.”
He took a step forward, his hands raised. “Violet… please… see reason. We need to go, now.”
Tears were beginning to form in my eyes. My vision blurred and I blinked, trying to keep the panic growing inside me at bay. I thought of Viggo’s face, and it grounded me. I knew what he would do: He would go in after it anyway. I had to do the same. For him.
“You… you go back to Owen. You tell him to wait. Buy me time. I’ll go get the laser and I’ll find a way to get it to you.”
Solomon took another step closer and I backed away from him. “Please, Solomon,” I said, my voice breaking.
He paused and looked at me. Really looked at me. I couldn’t imagine how I looked in his eyes—probably like some insane woman about to commit suicide. I d
idn’t care—he just needed to know that I was serious about what I was saying.
“All right,” he said reluctantly, and my knees buckled in relief. “If you’re going to go, I think there might be a clearer path at the rear of the building. I’ll rappel down with you, give you some cover, and then I’ll get to Owen and tell him to wait, okay?”
I nodded emphatically. “Yes. Thank you, Solomon.”
He gave me a tight nod and moved toward the rear of the building. I followed him, bending down to scoop up the rope from where Solomon had dropped it during the explosion. He was already by the ventilation shaft, digging through his pack.
“Here, use mine,” I said, kneeling down next to the vent to start wrapping my rope around it. I was just in the middle of tying the knot when I felt a sharp sting in my neck. Slapping my hand to the flesh there, I whirled around and saw Solomon standing behind me, a needle in his hand.
I had enough time to utter, “What the—” before blackness rushed in. I was barely aware of Solomon catching me as I fell into complete, unyielding darkness.
13
Violet
I woke up with a jerk and gazed around. It took me a moment to remember what had happened, but then it all came rushing back—the explosion, Solomon, the syringe. The ghost of the sting on my neck made me lift my hand and rub the skin there, but I couldn’t feel any evidence that it had happened.
Yet I was certain it had. I had woken up in a nest of blankets piled on the floor, and I recognized the room as the one Amber and I had shared in Thomas’ lair. I braced my hand against the wall as a wave of dizziness swept over me, causing my stomach to roil in protest. I panted at the exertion, but refused to acknowledge my body’s need to lie down.
Instead, I fought against it, forcing myself to stand on shaky knees. I felt simultaneously feverish and freezing. It was likely a side-effect of whatever drug Solomon had injected into me. I checked the time and realized I had been out several hours. It was early in the morning now. I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders—the one thing I would allow myself—and stumbled to the door. I needed to know what happened after Solomon knocked me out.
I swung open the door with more force than necessary, and felt the graze wound on my side pull a bit. Lifting up my shirt, I saw a white bandage with a thin red line coming across it.
Entering the room, one of the sofas had been dragged to the middle of it, and Amber lay on it, moaning, one hand clutching her side.
“It hurts,” she sobbed. “Make it stop—please!” The urgency coupled with the panic in her voice made me forget my own indignation for a moment.
I rushed over to her, dropping to my knees. Her violet eyes were large and luminous with fear as she looked at me.
“Violet… please… help me,” she begged, reaching for me. I grabbed her hand and she gripped mine tightly. Shushing her, I noticed the bandage stained with blood low on her abdomen. She also had a patch on either side of her neck—I recognized them as blood patches.
“You were shot?” I asked in a hushed tone.
She made a little whimper and nodded, tears dripping from her eyes. I placed my hand on her forehead and she shuddered. “It’s going to be okay, Amber. I’m going to find out what’s going on and come right back, okay?”
I turned toward where Owen, Quinn, and Thomas were all standing around the table. Owen looked over at me, his face a mixture of sadness and anger. Thomas stood with his arms crossed, his head tilted defiantly as he gazed at the other two men. Quinn looked the most frustrated—his hair was disheveled and under his eyes were twin pockets of shadow, indicating he hadn’t gotten much sleep.
I moved away from Amber and toward the men. They were having a heated debate in hushed whispers as I approached, which died as I inserted myself into their circle. I glared at each of them and crossed my arms.
“What are we doing about Amber?” I asked.
“We should be taking her to the hospital,” exploded Quinn.
Frowning, I shook my head. “I’m sure that both Owen and Thomas have shot that idea down, with good reason, Quinn—you know taking a woman with a gunshot wound to the hospital is only going to land us all in jail. Does anyone have any medical training? Enough to assess whether, if we load her up with painkillers and prepare her to move, she’ll stay stable on the way?”
All three avoided eye contact with me and I refrained from tapping a foot impatiently. It was Thomas who broke the silence.
“Solomon could have. But he can’t now.”
“Why not? Where is he? I kind of have a bone to pick with him after we get this situation handled!” Again, there was an awkward shuffling, and I exhaled a short breath in exasperation. “Just tell me.”
“We have bigger problems than worrying about Solomon right now, Violet,” Owen announced, finally meeting my gaze. I ignored his patronizing tone and angled myself toward him.
“Like?”
“Like why our intel was bad, and whether we have a mole somewhere.”
I looked sharply at Thomas, who met my gaze. “As I was explaining to Owen,” he said, “I don’t think it was bad intelligence or a mole. It was probably just bad luck.”
“You believe in luck?” I asked.
Thomas coughed and pulled at the collar of his shirt, looking wary. “Not as a rule, no. But Violet, it’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“How do you figure?”
“I checked every angle! I did weeks of research on my own and out in the field—something I despise, by the way—to make sure that the intelligence I received was accurate. Something must have changed since then, something that made the Patrians change their system.”
“Owen, do you think Thomas could have betrayed us?” I asked.
Owen rubbed a hand through his hair and looked at Thomas for a long moment. Thomas, for his part, quailed under Owen’s scrutiny.
“The Liberators, maybe—but me? No. Thomas wouldn’t do that.”
Thomas flushed bright red.
Seeing the awkward situation I had put him in, I felt bad and glossed over it as quickly as I could. “Well, then, it seems likely that it was bad luck.” Owen moved to object, but I held up a hand and stopped him. “We don’t have time to argue the point, Owen. Amber is in a rough place right now—we need to stop arguing and do something about it.”
Owen froze, his mouth open, and I used his shock to my advantage. “What’s the quickest way to get her back to The Green?”
“By boat, but—”
“Great. Thomas, can you get in touch with Alejandro and let him know that we need an emergency ride back to The Green?”
“Violet, you can’t just—”
“Tell him we’ll double his fee, provided he doesn’t ask questions and allows us the use of his private bedroom.”
“Violet! You don’t even understand. We never, ever go back by the same means we enter a place. It’s the quickest way to get caught!”
I stared at Owen. “These are unusual circumstances. I’m pretty sure Desmond and everyone else will understand. Now, will someone please answer my questions about Solomon? Also, please explain to me why he was carrying that syringe in the first place, and why he felt the need to use it on me!”
Thomas shot a look at Owen, who gave him a quick nod. Thomas moved over to the side and pulled out his handheld, presumably to contact Alejandro. I turned back to Owen and gave him a glare.
Owen shifted his weight on his feet for a moment, scratching the back of his neck. “Well… we felt that maybe you might wind up being a problem, if we weren’t able to achieve the objective.”
“Who’s we?” I asked, bristling in righteous indignation.
“Solomon and me. We knew… we knew how much was at stake for you, so we came up with a back-up plan, in case things went sideways.”
“I see,” I murmured after a pause. There was a bitter taste in my mouth that I couldn’t quite swallow. A part of me could see what he meant—after all, I had unilaterally decided to try to comp
lete the mission alone. It had been a reckless and shortsighted move on my part. “That still doesn’t tell me where Solomon is. Or where Quinn was when you and Amber were running from the scene.”
I turned my gaze to Quinn, who flinched. “I was running the other way,” he said.
I frowned in confusion. “The other way?”
Quinn nodded, and swallowed. “Yeah. Owen said it would be better if we split up, and he and Amber ran as a distraction to buy me time. We waited for you as long as we could after the coms went out, and then detonated the explosive. While they went left… I went right.”
I frowned, confused as to why he would risk running a distraction with two people instead of one, and then my breath hitched. “So… were you able to get the laser after all?”
Quinn nodded and reached over to slide a long metallic case toward me. Wordlessly, I picked it up and opened it, staring at the silver laser inside. Inhaling deeply, I set it down, leaning heavily on the table with both hands.
It had been a diversion the entire time, and I had fallen for it too. The worst part was I hadn’t had faith in Owen and the others, and that had led Solomon to whatever fate they were now trying to keep from me. I closed my eyes and fought to keep the panic at bay.
“Where is he?” I demanded, looking up at them. “Is he…” I trailed off, unable to force my lips to make the appropriate sounds.
Owen shook his head emphatically, and moved closer. “He’s not dead, but… you’re not going to like it.”
“Show me,” I demanded.
Owen fidgeted and looked at Quinn, who shrugged. Even Thomas looked uncomfortable—his fingers frozen over the handheld, his eyes were glued to the floor, unwilling to make eye contact.
I licked my lips and took a step forward, until I was within inches of Owen. He dragged his eyes up to mine, and I met his gaze sternly, letting him see my determination.
I couldn’t explain it in words, but if Solomon had been severely injured—more so than Amber—then I needed to see it. I needed to see what I was responsible for due to my desperate need to save the person I loved. It was important, sacred, that I did, so I could burn into my mind that I had failed my team by not believing in them. So that I could see, directly, the consequences of my actions.
The Gender Lie Page 8