Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Buggered. That’s what they were. And the fight was just getting started.
Olivia watched Ethan rush over to his team, completely ignoring his own injuries. That he’d taken two hits to his vest. Was lucky they hadn’t punched through. That he might have bruised or broken ribs. Could be bleeding internally. The fact he’d taken one of those hits to protect her...
She wasn’t sure if she was proud, scared or guilty.
Probably all three. It also meant she was starting to see him in an entirely different light.
That what she’d previously regarded as a lack of self-preservation was, in fact, an overly inflated sense of honor.
One she wasn’t sure she was worthy of because.
.. He’d done it. Gone up against ten heavily armed men at once and won.
Sure, she’d helped a bit. Had downed a couple of blokes.
And Gibson had neutralized the men in the other rooms, but Ethan had taken the big risks. And kept his team alive in the process.
Her gaze drifted to Blackburn’s body, and she couldn’t stop the shiver that wove through her.
How Ethan had paled when he’d felt for a pulse.
His anguish at realizing he’d been too late.
And she knew he’d blame himself because the other men had been called in to help keep Ethan safe after his run in with the snowmobiles and the rogue chopper.
It wouldn’t matter that they’d chosen to fight. That bringing down Smyth was on the top of every branch of government’s wish list. How, even the CIA wanted the man in chains.
All Ethan would see was that he’d failed. That he hadn’t gotten there soon enough or realized they’d all been compromised with enough notice to get his team to safety. Hadn’t been at their side, standing watch.
How he’d let them down.
He hadn’t. Not in her eyes, and definitely not in his team’s eyes. She could already tell. The way Dungeon, Priest and Relic grasped his arm after Gibson had removed the cuffs. Their expressions were clear—Ethan had risked his arse to save theirs. Period.
Though, if they didn’t get someplace more secure, soon, Ethan’s guilt might not matter. Hearing footsteps overhead—racing toward what she assumed was the main entranceway off to their left—had her standing. Gaining Ethan’s attention.
But his team was already moving. Ethan and Priest heading her way. Gibson taking up point as Dungeon helped Relic limp down the hallway. Ethan bent beside Blackburn, but Priest waved him off.
Priest heaved the man over his shoulders fireman style, seemingly oblivious to his own injuries. “My team. My responsibility. Besides, I’m not too proud to admit you’re a better shot. Might need that on the way out.”
“You’re barely standing.”
“Then, stop killing my momentum. Sounds like more assholes are on the way.”
Ethan huffed, but Priest was already walking toward the hallway. Not quite stumbling, but there was no doubt the man was hurting.
Olivia shook her head. “You’re all a bunch of stubborn sods, you know that?”
“Says the woman not wearing a vest.” Phoenix grabbed one of the boxes he’d used for cover—handed it to her. “Take this. I’d like to know what they were keeping down here. Now, go. I’ll sweep behind us.”
“Ethan…”
“I’ve already lost one teammate. If you get hurt…”
The muscle in his temple jumped as he seemed to force himself to swallow.
And just like that, she wasn’t divided over her feelings, anymore.
Didn’t need to have him say the words when he was showing her how much she meant to him.
That the other night hadn’t been a one-off, and he’d simply needed time to work it all out.
“See that you don’t take any more hits.” She headed for the hallway, looking at him over her shoulder. “And Ethan...thanks for stepping in front. I won’t forget it.”
She didn’t wait for his reaction—knew she wouldn’t be able to tear herself away if she stayed even one more second—just made a dash for the hallway.
Caught up to Dungeon as the man practically carried Relic through the corridors.
Blood tracking behind them. Each drop a reminder of what they’d lost. How it might be Ethan next, if she didn’t help get his team to the exit before reinforcements beared down on them.
Was the entire summit a hoax? Gibson had mentioned something about this being a setup. Had Smyth staged everything just to get them to attend? Eliminate anyone remotely associated with them in one simple hit?
Shit. Bishop. Coen. What if they were being targeted, right now? Were trapped, just the two of them. Sure, Bishop was a former-Green Beret, but...
She raced ahead, clearing each section then bolting to the next.
Shouts arose behind her, intermixed with the pop of gunfire.
How could there be more tangos? After the numbers they’d already dispatched.
She hadn’t flown any of the men they’d encountered into the retreat, which meant they’d had alternate arrangements.
Had probably already been here by the time she’d started flying in personnel.
She’d see they all got out. It didn’t matter if it meant overloading the helicopter. If she had to get creative in order to find a way to compensate for the extra weight—navigate over the mountains. She’d make it work. Or they’d go down fighting, together.
Having the rear exit open on her as she was several feet back complicated things.
Had her adapting. Dropping the box as she darted to the left.
A few quick strides, a leap, and she pushed off the wall—caught the first bloke with her thighs around his shoulders.
A cuff to his head, a shift of her weight, and they were down.
Hitting the floor with a resounding thud.
His partner tripped a step—tried to reposition—but she was already lined up. Had her gun aimed his way. A quick pull, and the bastard fell. Crumpled on the floor amidst a spray of blood.
Dungeon was at her side a breath later. Covering the stairwell. Ready to eliminate additional threats. She wasn’t sure how any of them were standing, let alone walking. Taking point. Even now, blood dripped down the man’s arm—made a small pool on the floor.
She tapped Dungeon’s arm—intent on getting the man to fall back and allow her to go up first—when Gibson appeared at her side.
“Nice work, Livy.” He handed the box back to her. “Now, do me a favor and give Relic a hand, yeah? Dungeon’ll have my back.”
Olivia scoffed. “The man can barely walk.”
“Sorry, love. But you’re the only pilot we’ve got. Besides...” He nodded at Dungeon. “You’re not dead, yet, are ya, mate?”
Dungeon huffed—looked as if he might pass out from the subtle movement. “Never better.”
“Hooyah.” Gibson shook his head. “Not negotiable, Livy. If we lose you, we’re all dead. So, help Relic. Vale’s got your back.”
She glared at Gibson but moved over to Relic.
Shouldered as much weight as she could as they made their way toward the stairs.
Heavy breathing filled the air, the rattling sound making her curse every step.
The guy should not be walking. Hell, she wasn’t sure how he was even conscious, but she had no doubts that he was doing more damage. Bleeding out quicker.
Not that stopping was an option. Ethan had caught up to them, was completely focused on their retreat.
Capping anyone who presented even a hint of a target.
Christ, he was good. Beyond impressive. But their slow pace was costing them.
Allowing more men to circle round—flank them.
Gibson was still trying to gain access to the outside, when Ethan ran up beside him.
He moved in front, firing down the stairwell, again, when someone tried to breech the door. “Keep our friends busy. I’ll go out. Clear the area.”
Gibson snorted. “I can’t get the damn door open without having a dozen bullets hit the other side.”
“You let me worry about the bullets. You focus on keeping everyone in here, alive.”
“Phoenix—”
But he was already diving out. Disappearing into the night amidst another volley of gunfire. The echoed pings hitting the door and ringing through the stairwell.
Olivia ran up the last of the steps, dropped the box then grabbed the handle, glaring at Gibson when he held her back. “Damn it, Miller, let me go.”
He gave her an apologetic smile as he shook his head. “Sorry, Livy. I can’t let you go out there. Vale would have my arse.”
“I’ll have your arse if you don’t let go of me.”
Gib shook his head—nodding at Dungeon to keep her from darting out before shuffling until he had a clear sight line to the area below them. “The kid’s nuts. No question about it. But, it’s like I said. You’re our only ride out of here.”
“They’ll kill him.”
Dungeon sighed, still blocking her way. “Trust me. This is one of the saner decisions Phoenix’s made in the field. The kid’s got nine lives.”
“Which implies he’ll be dead if he’s run out.”
“He won’t. He’s got this way of picking the perfect line. Knowing where the enemy is holing up without even seeing them. Uncanny, really. Like Six, only without that freaky mind thing.”
“I can’t—” She inhaled when the door rattled before swinging open. Barely getting out of the way before it smacked her in the chest.
Gibson shook his head. “Try knocking, first, Vale, before you end up with a blade between your eyes.”
Olivia grabbed Ethan by the sleeve. “Are you completely daft?”
He smiled, the bastard. “Probably. Area’s clear. Get the lead out before more assholes show up.”
She shook her head, allowing the others to shuffle past her. “And you accused me of being reckless.”
“Keep your ass in one piece, and you can read me the riot act, later.”
“Based on how many hits that vest has taken, you’ll be at the surgery later.”
He frowned. “I’m not so compromised I need surgery.”
“Not the operating theater. At the surgery.” She blew out a rough breath as Priest carried Blackburn out the door. “It means at a clinic. Bloody hell, you really need to learn how to speak English.”