by Kris Norris
“A Hail Mary.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “We should call Cannon. Get the rest of the team here.”
“There’s no way that large of a team would be able to move around undetected. The two of us is pushing it. Three or four more men… This is about stealth, not power. Even if we had your squad, Priest’s squad—hell, all of Alpha’s assault forces—we’d still be outmanned and outgunned.”
“So, you’re saying one mistake in there—”
“And we’re both dead. That about sums it up.”
“Fabulous.”
“On the bright side, I should be able to get us inside without alerting security. After that… It’s going to take patience, skill, and a healthy dose of luck.”
“And if that chip is from one of the systems? If McCormick sells them. What kind of fallout are we talking?”
“Imagine the capability to strike long-range targets with laser precision in the hands of militia forces that aren’t too fond of our country.”
“Well, crap.”
“You in?”
It was official. Ellis Baker had lost her freaking mind. And Colt had willingly followed her down that rabbit hole.
Missile guidance systems. That was a serious security threat. And if Ellis was right, it was only the tip of what the bastard had access to. For all they knew, McCormick could have been selling weaponry for years.
Colt let his head fall against the seat. “I always knew you were trouble.” He slid a sideways glance her way. “You really think you can get us inside?”
“I’ll make you a deal. If I can’t get us inside five minutes after we reach the access panel on the rear door, we’ll leave. Go back to the safehouse. Hell, I can turn myself over to the feds.”
“Five minutes? To crack CIA-level security?”
“Any longer than that, and the fail-safe goes off. We’ll have heavily armed guards on our ass before we get two steps away.”
“You’re shitting me, right?” Colt snorted. “Damn it. Fine. And no one’s going to the feds until we have proof, so you’d better crack that damn door.”
She nodded, turned in her seat, then shifted her pony tail over. “Do me a favor and take a photo of the barcode.”
“Seriously? Jericho said that’s what it was. I didn’t want to believe her.” He snapped the image then handed her back the burner cell. “I thought that accessed your bug-out kit or something?”
“I have that stored in a safety-deposit box. This is that Hail Mary you mentioned before.”
She activated a program she’d downloaded then touched the screen. Lines of code scrolled across the page. Colt didn’t know what it meant. How it was supposed to get them inside, but he’d give her the benefit of the doubt. Hacking was her thing, not his. She made a few more entries then looked over at him.
“The access panel we want is on the south door. It’s McCormick’s private entrance. Which means, no exterior cameras once we get past the perimeter ones located on the corners of the building. McCormick doesn’t like being caught on tape while entering and exiting this place, which is why that door only opens with his security clearance. We’ll have that five-minute window to hack it before interior alarms go off—”
“And a team of those SOG assholes mows us down.”
She smiled.
Colt shook his head. “Won’t McCormick get some kind of notification when we disarm everything?”
“If I get it all right, he won’t know unless he comes down here and physically checks the login records.”
“You really think you can pull this off?”
“I’m betting our lives on it.”
Hard to argue with that. Especially when he knew she’d never be reckless with his life in the balance.
“All right, sweetheart. I’ve got your six.” He reefed open the door and stepped out, meeting her gaze over the top of the Jeep as she removed her vest. She tucked just a couple of weapons in her clothes. “What are you doing? You need to wear that vest.”
“I never come here dressed like this. Only the SOG guys skulk around looking like they’re invading a small country. You’ll fit in. But if anyone sees me like that—game over.”
“This just keeps getting better. Okay, stay close.”
She nodded, falling in beside him as they crossed the street then turned right. He immediately darted down an alley, using the narrow lane between the buildings to make their way over to the facility.
They stopped at an opening directly across from the entrance, studying the cameras mounted to the corners. Two minutes, and Colt had it down pat, was counting out the sequencing in his head.
He waited through another round—just to be sure—then took off. Ten seconds and they were across the street, darting behind a couple of token trees. Not perfect cover, but hopefully enough to blend in.
Five seconds plastering their bodies against the trunks, then they were moving left. Sticking to the iron railing for ten feet, vaulting over it then sprinting to the wall. He swept his arm out, crushing Ellis against the brick in a tiny recessed doorway—more like a maintenance panel—counting to twelve then slowly peeking out.
Nothing that hadn’t been there before. The odd car rumbling down the street. Christ, this was insane. It wasn’t even fully dark, though the place seemed completely deserted.
He went through the numbers in his head, got to twenty then popped out, keeping his back against the wall as they continued to a set of steps, down all three, and into the doorway.
The hairs on his nape prickled. He hated this. Hated going in blind. Relying on fucking luck to keep Ellis safe. At least, he’d be close enough to take a bullet, or ten, if it came down to it. Maybe give her an opening to run—escape. Cannon. Six. The rest of the guys—they’d finish it. See she lived a long life.
He checked his watch as Ellis stepped up to the panel, noting the time. Five minutes, or he was dragging her out of there—praying they could outmaneuver whatever forces showed up as they ran for the Jeep.
Ellis removed the phone, tapping the screen then touching the keypad. Colt held his breath when it asked her to step closer—open her eye. Shit, this was impossible. How the hell could she fool a damn retinal scanner?
But she was already shifting. Holding up the burner cell—covering the lens with the screen. A soft whirling noise sounded from inside the panel, one of the red lights blinking green.
“Retinal scan verified. Initiate voice-activated prompt.”
Ellis touched the phone, accessed another screen then hit a play button.
Roger McCormick. Passcode Charlie Delta.
Four minutes left.
Jesus. She had his voice passcodes recorded? Colt didn’t know much about McCormick other than what they’d googled. And he definitely didn’t know if that’s what the asshole sounded like. But the machine whirled, again, the second red light blinking green.
“Voice pattern matched. Enter security code to access main menu.”
Ellis tapped in eight numbers. A loud beep sounded followed by a flicker of the screen, before it requested the verification code, again.
“Shit.” She scrolled through the list, inputted another number.
The damn machine beeped, again, the steady red light now flashing.
“Ellis?”
“It’s okay. I’ll get it.”
“How many tries do we get?”
She stiffened then sighed. “Three.”
“It’s been three minutes.”
“I’m working on it.” She switched to another screen, trailing her finger over a few lines before touching the pad—trying another set.
The panel went blank. The light still flashing red. Ellis reached for his hand, eyes wide when the last button winked out then turned green.
She exhaled, closing her eyes for a moment then glancing at him. “Phase one, done. Now, comes the hard part.”
Colt coughed. “That was the easy part?”
She shrugged, accessing a series of menus on the panel. More co
des scrolled across the screen, a flashing cursor waiting at the end of each section. Ellis worked through them, occasionally glancing at a file on the phone.
One minute left.
They were nearly out of time, and the damn door hadn’t budged. Which didn’t bode well. Especially with them standing out in the open, exposed. If she was wrong and McCormick had started having armed patrols checking the exterior…
He glanced at his watch, cursed, then tapped her shoulder. “We’re at our time limit here, sweetheart. Get us inside, or we need to run.”
“I’m almost there. Thirty more seconds.”
He clenched his jaw, expecting to have to bolt at any second. That a black Suburban would fishtail around one of the corners, spraying the side of the building with bullets. Or maybe panels would just slide open—turn automatic weapons toward them.
“Ellis…”
“Two more seconds.”
“We don’t have—”
“We’re in.”
Colt inhaled as a hushed click sounded behind the door. He shook his head, looked at the time. Five seconds left.
He grabbed her arm. “You damn near gave me a heart attack, sweetheart. Don’t do that, again.”
“No promises.”
“How did I know you’d say that?” He motioned toward the entrance. “So, it’s safe to go in?”
“I’ve put the cameras between the upper and lower three floors on a loop. We have ten minutes before they’ll revert back to live footage. McCormick likes to be able to get to a few places without being filmed. If we’re in any of the hallways when they snap back on…”
“That dead scenario happens.”
“More like we’ll probably wish we were dead. That’s assuming there aren’t armed men standing in the hallway directly behind this door. I can’t control the roving patrols.”
“Great. Fine...stay behind me.”
She glared but allowed him to palm the handle—turn it. Brett had his gun at the ready, senses on high alert. If there was a patrol behind the door, he’d have a few seconds to eliminate them before they reacted—realized it wasn’t McCormick walking through. And that meant being three steps ahead. Already planning on how he’d take the assholes out, first, then spin in case backup mysteriously arrived from behind—all the while keeping Ellis shielded at any cost. Make sure he took any shots if that’s how it had to go down.
He glanced back at her, nodded, then moved. Two seconds, and he had the door open, was going in high, knowing Ellis would follow low. That it would keep her out of any sight lines. Another two seconds, and he’d cleared the hallway—turned to face the door in case some jackass would pop up from behind. If maybe McCormick, himself, would suddenly walk through.
Nothing. No men. No ambush. Just silence.
And his damn pulse pounding inside his head. Shit, he was better than this. His heart rate should be flattening out—going into full soldier mode. Steady. Calm. Completely removed. Except that he didn’t have Cannon or Six backing him up. Wasn’t teamed up with Hank, or Midnight. Didn’t have Ice waiting a few hundred yards off to rush in if things went sideways, and he or his teammates started dropping.
He had Ellis. Skilled. Fearless. Smarter than all of his team put together... And the one person he couldn’t allow to get hurt. Not that he ever wanted Cannon or one of his buddies to get injured. But…it had been a possibility every time they went outside the wire. That shit could go sideways—that no amount of preparation or skill could prevent a dynamic situation from turning ugly. And they’d all made peace with it. Knew their brothers would do whatever they could to help them—save their asses. But, sometimes, bad shit happened.
That wasn’t an option where Ellis was concerned. She wasn’t allowed to die. Not on his watch. Sure, maybe sixty years from now, but not like this. When it would be his mistake. His fault. When he’d have to live knowing he’d let her down. Again.
Not happening. If that meant dancing around her like a damn ballerina in order to cover every angle—block any possible shot—he’d two-step with the best of them down every hallway. She didn’t have to like it. Hell, she could tear a strip off his ass if she wanted—as long as she was alive to do it, he’d take it.
Ellis crossed her arms once Brett had triple checked every direction—assured himself they really were alone. One perfectly sculpted brow arched as she stared at him. “Are you done making a fool of yourself or should I give you more room to spin?”
“Wanting to keep you safe isn’t being foolish.”
“No. But putting your own safety at risk because you don’t trust me to have your back, is.”
“This isn’t about trust. It’s about you breathing. If there had been a patrol in here—”
“Then, we both would have reacted. Eliminated them. You can’t do it all on your own. This won’t work unless we’re partners.”
He clenched his jaw but nodded. “I really hate it when you’re right. Old habits, I guess. Which way?”
“Elevator, end of the hall. Down two floors then over to the north side. Room’s in the corner.”
“Lead on.”
Chapter 18
Ellis had walked the halls in the facility dozens of times. But darting down them, now, Brett at her side, body primed for one of the patrols to suddenly appear in front of them, brought their whole mission into sharp focus.
They had one shot. Any miscalculation. Any error in judgment on her part, and she’d be the reason Brett died. Especially since he was determined to keep her safe. Jump in front of a bullet—a stream of bullets. Anything and everything, including grenades. Ellis had no doubts he’d throw himself on top of one—any sacrifice if it meant she’d live.
She couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t lose him, again, whether their partnership lasted the next fifty years or the next five hours. She’d never survive it. Once had rendered her emotionally scarred, and she’d spent five years operating on autopilot. Going through the motions, living for the next mission. Content that he was still out there. Protected by his team.
She’d use those five years to her advantage, now. Every skill, every bit of training at her disposal to ensure they walked out of there. Alive. Together.
The thought had her laser-focused. Moving down the corridor as if she belonged there. She knew McCormick. He trusted fewer people than she did. Only a handful of his agents would know she’d gone rogue. Had a kill order on her. And he’d keep those men close. At his side, not roaming the halls of a building he’d never imagine she’d sneak into. Not after the other night with the wet squad. With more hunting her, right now. If a patrol appeared, she’d just act as if she was dropping off more intel or assets. Engage only when needed.
Brett followed her lead, pressing his shoulders down then walking with confidence. He was completely calm. Focusing forward instead of trying to study the surroundings. A dead giveaway that he hadn’t been here, before. Which might lead to questions she couldn’t answer.
They reached the elevator without meeting any resistance. The bell chimed immediately, the large silver doors opening a couple of seconds later. They entered, and she pressed the button for the second sub level. The doors slid closed, then the unit shook—quickly dropped the two floors. She had her hand palmed on her pistol as the elevator rocked to a halt then opened.
Nothing.
She inhaled, moved out, and started walking. Over two corridors, down a short hallway then left. Ten feet, and they were at the last corridor, the storage room at the end on the left.
A scuff. Faint. From down the hallway. Ellis pressed her back into the wall, glancing at Brett then peeking around the corner. A guard, leaning against the wall, staring at something in his hand. Maybe a phone. Blocking the doorway to the room they needed.
Brett signaled to his knife, brow arched. She knew he could make the throw. Down the guy. But they didn’t have the means to clean up the mess, and leaving a pool of blood on the floor was a death sentence.
She held up her finger, t
ook a deep breath then stepped out. Brett cursed behind her, words barely reaching her. But she was already moving. Striding down the center, muscles tensing.
Five steps and she’d closed the distance to half. Was quietly increasing her breathing—giving her body extra oxygen for the coming battle. Two more and the guard had straightened. Glanced at her over his shoulder. A smile and a nod, and he was nodding back. Eyeing her silhouette. Assault rifle angling toward the floor more as his attention swayed.
She got within a foot then lunged, darting to his left, knocking his elbow out in front of him. Altering his grip on the gun. A hand on his shoulder, a leap and a kick off the wall, and she had her thighs around his neck, was up on his shoulders. He swayed from the sudden shift in balance, and she moved with him, tipping him forward with all her weight.
She twisted, tucking her shoulder and absorbing the impact as they hit hard, before rolling onto her back, legs cinching around his neck. His arms pinned beneath him. A quick rotation and the butt end of her pistol against his head, and he was out. Limp against the concrete.
Brett was already at her side, grabbing the guy and pulling him back—checking his pulse. He eyed Ellis as she gained her feet, gaze fierce. Mouth more of a snarl than a frown. “Fucking hell, El? What was that?”
“Do I look like I could punch a guy that large? My strength is in my legs. And it eliminated the blood spatter your knife would have left behind.”
“At least, give me a bit more warning next time. I damn near shit my pants when you stepped out.” He jerked his thumb at the door. “This the place?”
“Yeah. Give me a second.”
She pulled out the phone, again. Went through the same process as outside—unlocked the door with a soft swoosh as it slid inward. Brett dragged the guard inside, leaving him behind the door, mouth duct-taped shut. Hands zip-tied.
It only took a minute to find the pass-locked container and open it. Stare at the motherboards stacked inside.
She removed one, getting Brett to hold it while she fished the chip out of her pocket. She held it up, cursing. “It’s a match.”