Chapter 17 #2
“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 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 codes 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 Bishop, 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.”