Delta Force: Crow (Wayward Souls)

by Kris Norris

  If Ryker was upset with her choice, he didn’t show it, shadowing her every move. Surveying every direction. How had Cannon phrased it earlier? Head on a swivel?

  A tap on her shoulder had her turning. Staring into those neon-infused blue eyes of his. She arched a brow, stopping across from the entrance—just slightly down the block.

  Ryker studied the street, looking as if he could see through the damn walls. “This is the tricky part. Out in the open. A viable target for even an unskilled sniper. Or a drive-by. Do me a favor and stay between me and the building?” He raised a hand before she could react. Reply. “I know. NSA agent. Badass. But…”

  She smiled. “Don’t assume I’ll let you use the ‘love’ excuse for long. You aren’t the only one who’s willing to make a sacrifice.”

  “Limited time offer. Got it.” He cupped her arm, turning her to face him, then dipping in for a quick kiss. “Thanks.”

  And, there was that heat spreading through her chest, again. Making her feel giddy. Actually giddy. Like a teenager with a crush. And she didn’t miss the cocky smile that lit up his face. Even if it only lasted a second before he was all firm lips and narrowed eyes.

  Crow was back.

  Good, they needed that version of him. The one who didn’t accept defeat. Who threw himself into the mission. Especially since they were on their own. Cannon had wanted to send the entire squad as backup, but they’d refused. Partly because she couldn’t gain all of them access to the building. But mostly because of Gibson. Because they’d nearly lost the man at their expense. That Phoenix was currently fighting for his life for the same reason. They’d both had enough collateral damage to last a lifetime.

  Cannon had fought. Hard. Loud. But he’d finally relented. Agreed to use his people and his resources to delve further into Phoenix’s past few months. See if they could figure out who the new player was, because that was the real worry. Slader was already on their radar. A known threat. Whoever had blackmailed Phoenix needed to be identified. Fast.

  Because that person had farther reaching power than even McCormick had possessed. And, if this newcomer could get to Phoenix, he could get to the other members of Alpha—namely Priest’s squad. All of which had the potential to end bloody.

  Which meant getting inside the building.

  Ryker moved to her right, scanning the area one more time, before stepping out. Motioning to his left. Devlyn kept pace with his strides. Matched to her legs, not his, and knowing he was still thinking about her—even remotely—helped her focus. Made her realize all she had to lose.

  Only took five seconds to cross the road—stick to the slight shadows along the front of the building. Another ten, and they were closing in on the doors. Ryker shifted as she reached the glass entrance, somehow rotating around her as she opened the large door and headed inside. Effectively blocking any shot that might have been able to take her out. And all without looking as if he was shielding her.

  She headed straight for the elevators. While there were other ways to exit the lower levels, there was only one way in. One elevator that accessed the high security offices below. A safety measure, she’d been told. Though, it didn’t feel all that safe, now. Trapping themselves in a small cubical with no control over what would be waiting on the other side of the silver doors when they opened.

  She stopped at the keypad, cursing under her breath when the cover rocked open, revealing a small device clipped into the wires. “Ryker.”

  He moved in close, still facing the doors before nodding at her.

  She motioned to the keypad, noting the scowl that shaped his lips. “I might not be a hacker like Becca or your teammates, Ellis and Kam, but I know a damn deciphering chip when I see it. Someone hacked the elevator.”

  “Well, fuck. Just once, I’d like to be a step ahead of Slader.”

  “You sure it’s him? Maybe whoever got to Phoenix is here to eliminate loose ends?”

  “Then, this new guy is CIA, too, because that…” He pointed to the chip. “I saw Slader use the same type of device to gain access to Bains’ apartment in Afghanistan. Pretty sure the Agency doesn’t give them out at Christmas.”

  He surveyed the hallway then met her gaze. “I’d ask if there’s another way down, but I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.” He pursed his lips, looking as if he was running through a bunch of scenarios in his mind before he sighed. “You got enough ammo?”

  “I hope so, because if we need more than four clips, we’ve got bigger issues.” She pushed on the button, drawing her gun and standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Ryker as the gears hummed for several moments before the doors slid open.

  She held her breath, muscles primed, finger inside the guard, only to exhale at the empty cubical. The whirl of cool air from the lower levels breezing past her legs.

  “Would have been nice if the bastard had been inside. Might have actually come out of this ahead.” Ryker stepped inside, rolling his shoulders after she’d pressed the button, jerking the unit into motion. He shifted over, crowding her into the front corner as the elevator descended. “Stay sharp and be ready to close the doors if bullets start flying.”

  “Feel free to stop being my shield. These vests can only stop so much, and your ribs are worse than mine.” She smoothed her hands down the front of her shirt, gliding along the ridges of the Kevlar beneath. “I can’t believe Cannon had more.”

  “Please. The man has a vault full of…office supplies.”

  She laughed. “Not sure when nine millimeters and body armor replaced pens and printer ink, but I’m not complaining. Ready?”

  “Born that way, sweetheart.”

  The unit pinged, then Ryker—Crow. Definitely Crow, or maybe a mixture of the two—had his gun aimed. Was sweeping the hallway before glancing at her. Motioning her ahead.

  She moved out once he’d given her enough space, scanning the corridor. “That’s strange.”

  “No one standing here, waiting to gun us down? Yeah, real buzzkill.”

  “No, I meant there’s no alarm. No emergency lighting. Nothing to suggest the place is under attack. Has been compromised. I realize it’s late. That there’s probably only a skeleton crew on right now, but…”

  “Do you think Smithers is here?”

  “Hard to say. I used to swear he lived here, but it depends on how many active assignments there are. If he was expecting to debrief someone, or had an emergency pop up. Guess we’ll find out. We have to go past his office to get to the detention wing.” She looked up at him. “I still say we could have called him. No way he’s dirty.”

  “Not taking any chances with your life on the line. Smithers can bitch at me all he wants, but in the end, he’ll understand. And agree. You sure you remember the way?”

  She merely arched a brow. Ryker chuckled then nodded for her to take point, still sweeping every direction as she started down the hallway. Devlyn kept her pace measured. Quick, but not running. Ensuring they had time to react. She had time to react because after seeing Ryker in action, she knew he’d have three guys downed by the time she took a shot. Not that she was slow. But she wasn’t too proud to admit he had far more training than she did. Had survived in places that would kill the average man. No questioning, he was fast. Almost as fast as Phoenix had been.

  The thought sobered her. Brought their mission into sharp focus. This went beyond her and Ryker, now. Slader had involved Ryker’s team. Her office. Personal didn’t begin to describe how it felt.

  Devlyn stopped at the next set of doors. “The majority of the facility branches out from here with medical and tech areas occupying a few floors below. But, if Slader’s here to grab Anna Carmichael—and we know there isn’t any other reason he’d risk infiltrating an NSA stronghold—he’ll be somewhere on this level. Beyond the doors.”

  Ryker nodded then grabbed one handle, silently counting down before yanking it open—going in fast and high. She followed through the other door. Low. Sweeping left while he swept right. Half the lights
were dark, leaving pockets of shadows lining the hallway.

  The empty hallway.

  A muted curse, then Ryker was moving. Quick-stepping down the corridor. Clearing each room then heading for the next. Obviously not leaving them open to any kind of attack from behind. It took time—time Devlyn wasn’t sure they had—but it made sense. Was better than what her approach would have been. A beeline to the detention sector—possibly setting herself up for an ambush.

  But, damn it, this was the NSA. She was supposed to be safe, and, other than that decipher chip, nothing was out of place. No droplets of blood. No smeared handprints along the wall. No bodies. Not so much as a single shell casing to suggest anything remotely violent had gone down. That there was anyone here who didn’t belong.

  Had Slader set them up? Made it look as if the keypad had been hacked in order to draw them in? Maybe strike Gibson’s safehouse while Ryker and her were systematically checking every square inch of the facility? Or had Ryker been right in saying Slader would level the block once he knew they were inside?

  A noise.

  Nothing loud. No distinct words, but there was something odd about the sound. As if it had been muffled. Either someone trying to remain silent or silencing someone else. Didn’t matter because the result was the same. Ryker stopping, plastering his back against the wall beside the next door. Motioning her to copy on the other side. The fact it was Smithers’ office had her tensing her muscles—wondering if Ryker had been right? If Smithers was part of this, and that’s why the faculty looked normal?

  Another countdown, then him turning the handle. When it didn’t budge, he aimed his gun. Nodded at her then emptied a few rounds into the keypad on the wall. Sparks lit up the hallway as the keypad exploded, followed by a billow of smoke, then tiny flames licking at the drywall. There was an audible click, then the entire door shifted forward.

  Two seconds, and he was barreling through. Blocking any shot that could be aimed her way. She saw a flash of the room. Chairs overturned. Blood along the wall, then a flicker of movement. But Ryker was already on top of her. Taking her to the floor. Rolling them behind one of the chairs as a couple of trigger pulls sounded close by. The carpet exploded where they’d been standing, and way too close to Ryker’s shoulder. She tried to push up—get a bead on their target, when he cursed, again.

  He rose just enough to allow her lungs to fill. To draw in some air before he was grunting. Shaking his head. “For fuck’s sake, it’s us. So, stop shooting before you kill the damn cavalry.”

  A grunt. Not from Ryker, but definitely male. On the other side of the room. Feet scuffed the floor, then a figure loomed in close, the man’s shadow falling over her from the light on the far wall.

  Devlyn looked up, inhaling sharply before allowing Ryker to help her to her feet. She did a quick body sweep then crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, for once, it’s not me who looks like shit.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Appeared as if Crow owed Devlyn an apology because he doubted Smithers was playing both sides. Not with the amount of blood soaking through the man’s shirt. Not to mention how much was splattered across the walls. The floor.

  Devlyn exhaled, staring at her boss before looking the other man up and down. “Thinking you might want to sit down before you fall down.”

  Smithers glared at her. “I knew I’d regret authorizing your transfer here. You’re a royal pain in my ass, Adams.”

  Dev shook her head, righted the chair Crow had shoved her behind then helped the other man into it. She reached for his shirt, giving him a hard stare until he relented—allowed her to lift it. Get an idea of how badly he was hurt. “Damn. Two hits. One’s not that serious, but your shoulder’s a mess. Ryker…”

  But he was already moving. Heading for the bathroom across the hallway. A wad of paper towels, and he was back. Giving them to Devlyn before darting over to the upturned desk. Only took a twist of his knife to wrench open the locked bottom drawer—find the bottle of scotch he knew every damn director had hidden inside.

  Dev thanked him when he handed it to her. She gave Smithers another look then poured it over his wounds, ignoring the string of curse words that followed. Pressure with the towels, and she had the bleeding under control. At least until help arrived. Though, the man looked as pale as Devlyn had when Crow had seen her that first night—in the same damn office. And she hadn’t made it out of the room before passing out.

  Crow inched closer, gaining Smithers’ attention. Praying the man stayed conscious long enough to help them. “I’d ask you who did this, but...pretty damn sure there’s only one man on the list.”

  Smithers cursed, again, glaring at Devlyn when she bound his shoulder. Hard. “Slader. Bastard walked through my door as if he belonged here then opened fire. Caught me twice before I was able to tip the desk—return fire. But he was gone. I tried the door, but he’d bypassed the lock. I was trying to override it when you blew out the keypad. I thought…”

  He thought Slader was making another visit. “He had your code?”

  Smithers stared at him. “That’s your takeaway, Ward? That you’re surprised Slader got ahold of the code to my office?”

  “Just begs to question if my agency is the only one with a mole. You call in a crew?”

  “Lines are down, and, before you ask, there’s no cell signal.”

  “Slader has a nasty habit of jamming those. How much lead time does he have on us?”

  “About ten minutes. If you hurry…” He coughed, splattering flecks of blood across his arm when he lifted it to cover his mouth.

  Crow stared at the man then the door. While he wanted to catch Slader, he wasn’t sure Smithers had that kind of time. Not, and live. And leaving injured teammates behind didn’t sit well with him, even if Smithers wasn’t officially part of his team.

  Smithers grunted, shoving Devlyn off when she reached for his shoulder, again. “Twelve minutes, now, Ward. What are you waiting for? Go get the bastard.”

  Crow frowned. “I’m not sure that’s in your best interest. And since we can’t call in backup until we get out of here…”

  “I’m not going to die in the next five minutes.” He coughed, again. More blood dotting his shirt. “Though, if you keep stalling…”

  Devlyn sighed. “Hang tight. We’ll clear this level then come back for you once we’ve found Slader. Assuming he hasn’t gotten what he’s looking for and already has a drone inbound.”

  “What the hell do we have that Slader could possibly want and not have whoever his contact is in the CIA simply obtain for him?”

  She stood. “Ms. Brown.”

  “The mule?”

  “I assume she’s here.”

  “Still in detention room three. Refuses to talk, so we’ve been letting her stew, all thanks to the Patriot Act. Why would Slader want her? Surely he didn’t break into a secure facility to kill a mule who no longer has the information he wants?”

  “It’s complicated. Let’s just say, she’s likely in on it.” Devlyn held up her hand. “It’ll all be in my report. If we live through this.”

  “Then, see that you do, Agent Adams.”

  She snorted then moved over to the door, gazing down the hallway before motioning to him. Crow joined her, glancing back at Smithers. Praying he wasn’t putting on a front, and he’d be dead by the time they got back. Or worse, was setting them up. Getting them to lower their guard a bit then have Slader close in on them from behind.

  Smithers eased back in the chair. “Not a double agent, Ward, so stop looking at me as if I’m about to shoot you in the back. Though, I am curious why Devlyn called you Ryker instead of Crow, just now. And why she hasn’t stabbed you in the heart, yet. Thinking, there’s a story there. Detention three is down the hallway, over two sections then up on the right. And see her ass stays in one piece.”

  “Why don’t you worry about not bleeding out, and I’ll focus on Devlyn’s ass.”

  “Or, I could cap both of you and save my own
ass.” Devlyn grinned at Crow. “Ready?”

  “Already told you I was born that way.” He snagged her arm. “Please don’t get shot.”

  “As long as you do the same.”

  Then, she was off. Out the door and down the hall, still checking any rooms on her side as Crow checked the ones on his. They reached the end, paused long enough to peek out—survey the area. Half the lights were out in this section, as well, nothing but shadows lining the walls.

  They went on three, high and low, then quick-stepped down the corridor. No rooms to check, just sixty feet of hallway. Of the possibility of Slader popping out and spraying the area. No need to aim, just a few pulls of a semi-automatic and they wouldn’t have much recourse. Anywhere to hide.

  Crow would cover her. No question, but that would only delay in inevitable. Give her a few more seconds before Slader finished the job. And there was no doubt he’d end it, this time. Like Crow’s team, he doubted the other man made the same mistake twice.

  Actually making it over the two sections to the end of the hallway was a surprise. One of the few good ones he’d ever had. Devlyn fell in behind him at the corner, shifting with him when he had a quick look around the corner.

  A flash of movement, and he had his arm out—was shoving Devlyn back as he got off a shot—hit the damn wall an inch from Slader’s head as the man dove for cover. Devlyn scrambled across the hallway—wedging herself into the small sliver of space in front of one of the few alternate exits in the facility. Gun aimed up the hallway. Body primed for a fight.

  Crow grunted. She barely had enough room to keep her head out of the line of fire, let alone the rest of her. And it was way too easy for Slader to catch her outside of her vest. He didn’t need to kill her—not if he was only interested in getting away, now that he’d been discovered. A strategic hit, and she’d be bleeding all over the crappy linoleum. And that would effectively stop Crow in his tracks.

  And, damn it, Slader knew that. Knew Crow wouldn’t risk Devlyn’s life, even to catch his ass. Crow’s gauntlet run at the warehouse hadn’t helped hide his feelings for Devlyn, not that Slader needed any proof. The man knew Crow wouldn’t leave a teammate behind, period. And Devlyn was far more than that.