Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Neve sat wedged in the back of the blacked-out SUV, Coulter’s hand sandwiched between hers, his head resting on her lap. The scent of rain-soaked wool and iron weighed down the air, Coulter’s blood sticky against her skin.
Scout raced along the rain-slick street, engine whining as she red-lined the revs, flew down one road, fishtailed around a tight corner, then hammered it along the next. Headlights tracked their progress from behind, the two large trucks slowly gaining.
Neve snapped her focus back to Coulter when he groaned, drinking in his profile — the familiar curve of his jaw, the easy symmetry of his face. The one she’d been picturing every second of every day since Finch’s experiment had burned her life to the ground — taken what had mattered most.
Taken him.
She brushed her hand along his cheek, smiling at the stubble. The guy was handsome at the best of times. Toss in a five-o’clock shadow or partial beard…
It fluttered her stomach, kicked up her pulse.
A shot cracked behind them, the bullet pinging off the back end, a handful of sparks lighting up the dark. Scout cursed, slalomed around some oncoming traffic, then jumped the curb cutting off a corner before sliding onto another road.
She glanced back. “These assholes are persistent. Have we decided where we’re taking him?”
Neve lowered her window, waited until the pursuing trucks zeroed in on them again, then fired three shots, two punching through the grill, the other dead center of the windshield. The vehicle swerved, rode the curb for a moment, its partner moving in beside it, before shifting back into place.
Neve twisted, closed the window. “They’ve got armored grills and bullet-proof glass. Probably run flats. It’ll take a good dozen shots from my rifle to make a dent.”
But that meant moving Coulter — firing through the back window, neither of which sat well with her, assuming they should even move him before they’d reached safety.
Wynn bent over Coulter, her kit spread out across the center console, her hands moving with practiced ease.
She hadn’t blinked when Neve had returned, Coulter slung over her shoulders, fireman style.
Neve wasn’t sure if the pressure had exacerbated his injuries, but with him outweighing her by a good eighty pounds, she’d been left with only one option that hadn’t involved her dragging him all the way back to the vehicle.
Wynn muttered something under her breath, huffing when the next shot cracked the passenger side mirror.
“He’s definitely compromised his ribs. I can’t tell if they’re just heavily bruised or cracked.
Moving him could punch a piece of bone into his lung.
He needs a doctor. This is more than I can treat with what’s in my bag. ”
Neve nudged her. “Can Darwin handle it?”
Wynn snorted. “Sure. But the question isn’t can he, but should he? Because you know Gus will tear you a new one if we burst into the bunker carrying Coulter after he already made it clear he thinks Coulter’s a risk.”
“You let me worry about what the others will think.” She tapped Scout on the shoulder. “Take this onto the logging roads. Let’s see how well they handle the rough stuff at night in the rain. And head for that old trestle bridge.”
Scout glanced at Neve in the rearview. “The one with only a chunk of metal holding the left side together for sixty feet?”
“I’m betting they aren’t half as skilled as you.”
Scout pursed her lips before the SUV shuddered, then picked up speed, the surroundings nothing more than a black blur against the fog. The truck faded behind them, the headlights barely glowing in the mist.
Wynn glanced over at Neve, reaching for more supplies without really looking. “I can see why you and Coulter were an item. You’re both nuts.”
Neve sighed. “Never really got to that status. At least, not officially. And I’m honestly surprised he pulled a stunt like this. It’s not like him to go rogue against those kinds of odds.”
“Guess he had something worth dying over.”
“Nothing inside Blackridge is worth dying over.”
“It would be if it somehow involved you.”
Neve stilled, snapping her gaze back to Coulter’s eyes, the usual blue depths hidden beneath dark lashes, the ends of his brown hair teasing the tops. “The military deemed our deaths a tragic accident. Why would he go digging? And how the hell would he know Blackridge had any link to us?”
Zadie had only uncovered the possible connection a couple weeks ago after running searches on the two men Darwin had captured in the photo before he’d bugged out.
She’d discovered they’d both been working contract for three local PMCs until a year ago when they’d seemingly vanished.
She’d monitored all three companies, since, flagging anything that could be remotely tied back to Finch or Hyperion.
If she hadn’t received an alert about the security breach on Blackridge’s internal comms system earlier, prompting an unscheduled drive by…
Coulter would be dead.
“The guy’s tier one. Spent the past twenty years running missions.
I doubt a lack of intel stopped him from digging further into the incident.
” Wynn shrugged. “It’s not as if any of us thought he’d blindly accept the DoD’s account of what happened.
I’m actually surprised it took him this long to get into a bind.
I thought he’d be busting through the bunker’s door a week ago. ”
Neve resisted rolling her eyes. “I just hope they didn’t catch his face on any of the cameras.”
Zadie turned from the passenger seat. “I hacked into their feed while we were within range. I wasn’t able to erase their video, but I introduced a virus. With any luck, most of it’ll be destroyed.”
Neve smiled her thanks, holding on as Scout took a sharp right, the tires slipping a bit before regaining their traction and straightening out.
She drove another few minutes, rain tapping on the windshield, fog creeping across the road, those two trucks still lingering in the distance.
The entrance to the main forest service road appeared on their left, as Scout swerved around an old gate post, bumped over a gravel ditch, then slid onto the gravel road — headed north.
The tires thrummed beneath the vehicle, stones and mud kicking up against the undercarriage as the SUV bounced across some washboard, everything inside the cab jumping.
Neve braced herself against the door, keeping Coulter from sliding around, maybe puncturing a lung like Wynn had mentioned.
An eerie gray enfolded the interior, the struts grinding as they danced through a patchwork of potholes.
Behind them, twin beams bore through the night, lighting up the encroaching forest before rounding the bend, closing in. Scout cut in close to the next turn, avoiding the worst of the washboard before veering to the other side, yanking on the handbrake and fishtailing them onto another offshoot.
They picked up speed, mud spraying out the sides, the fog reflecting the headlights back at them. She shook the vehicle around another corner, lit up the hulking trestle a few hundred meters ahead when the mist thinned, the huge beams seemingly hanging in mid-air.
Scout glanced at Neve in the rearview. “Last chance to suggest another route before I’ll have to fully commit.”
Neve smiled. “Give’er.”
Scout snorted, squared her shoulders, then lined up the bridge, gaze fully focused on the structure. A couple shots ricocheted off the bumper as the forest retreated, the ground giving way to neatly spaced creosote-covered ties, the metal rails two silver lines against the black.
The vehicle bumped along, the rhythmic creaks groaning inside the cab as they crossed onto the bridge, a massive black chasm eating up the view of either side.
Fog threaded across the surface, deadening the steady clack as they reached the edge of the cliff, the trestle stretching out across the open air.
No guardrails. No protection, just those square beams shaking beneath the tires, the creosote blending into the darkness.
Scout didn’t waver, gaze focused on the track, hands gripping the steering wheel like it was just another drive.
They hit the halfway point, the trucks behind them already bouncing along, the entire bridge groaning from the strain.
Ahead, the ties gave way to an open stretch of line, just that metal rail hanging above the abyss, the wood barely holding beneath the other side.
The vehicle slowed a fraction, the only indication Scout had any reservations about crossing the broken line, before she hit the gap, one set of tires riding the edge of the rail, the other squeaking across the slippery tie, sounding as if they might slip off if the wind blew a certain way.
She held firm, the interior sitting at an odd angle as the rubber gripped and released, slowing the SUV then boosting it ahead. The structure shook, something cracking behind them before she reached the end of the gap, slid back onto the creosote-slick ties.
Scout blew out a harsh breath, gaze flying to the rearview as she skidded onto the logging road, the trailing headlights casting her face in a white glow.
Neve looked behind, judging how far across the trucks were by the way the light bounced along before the lead truck slipped sideways trying to shift onto the solid section, the back wheel sloughing into the opening.
The truck jerked to a halt, more wood cracking around them, one of the other ties dropping into the gap.
The second truck veered in an effort to avoid a collision, the entire left side slipping off the rail, crashing into the metal with an ear-piercing screech.
It landed cockeyed on the structure, headlights still burning, the engine growling as Scout punched the gas — left the bastards on the bridge.
Neve squeezed her friend’s arm. “Never doubted you.”