Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Coulter wedged himself tighter against the dash, doing his best to mold his body to the shape of the footwells. Deep shadows covered the interior, but he doubted he’d be invisible if the guy hovering outside the vehicle looked inside.
The truck rocked, a sharp grinding screech rattling his molars as the crane arm settled, the sudden shift knocking him against the dash.
Pain kicked him in the ribs, stealing his next breath as the guy edged closer to the truck before he turned, giving Coulter a glance at his profile backlit by the office light.
The shape of the man’s jaw, the slight bump on his nose…
Coulter had spent hours staring at the men who’d been behind Bralorne.
While Neve hadn’t shared every detail — an oversight he’d correct as soon as they were alone, again — he’d recognize the main players anywhere.
And this asshole was the traitor who’d set it all in motion.
Daniel Fraser.
A dull roar sounded in Coulter’s head as fire burned beneath his skin. Fraser had been the catalyst. The reason Neve’s team had been chosen. The benchmark Oliver Finch had wanted to test his enhanced team against. And it had cost Neve far more than just her career.
Coulter squeezed his hand around the GPS unit he’d finally ripped off the dash. Not his finest work, but the damn thing had been too integrated into the vehicle for a clean extraction, and with time counting down, he’d needed a win.
He just wasn’t sure if the GPS was the win he wanted. Or if slamming the unit against Fraser’s head topped the list.
Coulter pushed out a slow breath, inching back as the truck twisted in the wind, the front end hanging from the claw as the rear tires kicked up a cloud of dust. He’d nearly been clear before the claw had pierced the hood, and he’d tumbled back inside.
Fraser’s hand lingered on the handle, as he stared behind him.
Where Coulter bet his ass Neve had made her nest. Not that he believed the other man could actually see her, but Fraser wasn’t an average grunt.
He’d made it through Special Forces training only to wash out after a few missions.
Attitude, his buddy had said. That Fraser was the kind of guy who’d joined for power. A morally acceptable form of violence.
Coulter hadn’t worked with the jerk, had been too busy with his own team, but he’d heard the rumors. And he didn’t doubt Fraser had sold his soul to Ramsey and Finch for the same reason. Knowing Fraser had willingly taken the drugs Darwin said would eventually kill him just for a brief advantage…
It made Fraser more of a threat than Ramsey because the man had absolutely nothing to lose.
Coulter slipped his Sig out of the holster, the sights centered on where Fraser’s head would be if he opened the door. Not the best solution, but he’d take the shot if necessary. Assuming Neve didn’t kill the guy first.
Cold sluiced through his veins. While he knew Neve and her teammates likely wanted some form of retribution after all Fraser had done, actually having to kill the man — someone she’d considered family — even to protect Coulter might be more of a price than Neve realized.
And after all she’d sacrificed — how she’d forgiven him for all the times he’d let her down — he’d do anything to prevent her from having to make that choice.
The handle jiggled as Fraser loomed closer before he took a step toward the rear when someone yelled his name. He spun, his shadowed figure moving beyond Coulter’s sightline for a moment.
The door cracked open as Coulter squeezed the handle, inhaled a swirl of diesel-choked air from the crane. Voices sounded from the other side of the vehicle, one of the men going on about how he’d found a gap in the fence.
Coulter’s cue to move — slink out the passenger seat before closing the door just enough it wouldn’t swing open with the next jarring shift.
Long shadows from the crusher stretched across the ground as Coulter landed on the dirt, body pressed against the truck, matching each sway.
He crept toward the rear, mapping out a route that would keep him hidden from sight when footsteps crunched toward him from multiple directions.
He froze, ready to dive under the truck, when a dull thut whooshed past a second before the main light on the crane shattered, glass exploding across the machine in a shower of reflective shards.
Another blew a heartbeat later, tiny arcs lighting up the darkness before everything descended into black, just the one light the office brightening the doorway.
A click in his headset had him hoofing it toward the closest pathway, boots barely scuffing the ground. Scout yanked him into the shadows the moment he cleared the edge, her weapon sweeping the yard, as she nodded toward the end of the corridor.
Coulter didn’t talk, just kept moving, something else shattering behind them.
Voices rose into shouts, what sounded like several men all racing across the dirt.
No return gunfire, but that made sense if their weapons weren’t silenced like Neve’s.
Fraser couldn’t risk a confrontation with the police, either, which meant, his men would hunt in silence.
Try to take any threat down with knives or hand-to-hand.
Scout nudged him when he stopped at the next junction, scanning both directions. “We go left to get back to the fence line.”
Coulter shook his head. “I heard one of Fraser’s men telling him he found our entry point.”
Scout froze, most of the color draining from her face. “Fraser?” She looked behind her, a harsh rasp escaping. “Daniel Fraser’s here?”
Coulter hooked her elbow. “I know what you’re thinking—”
“That I can end this with a well-placed bullet between his traitorous eyes? Glad we’re on the same page.”
“Now’s not the time or the place. We need to haul ass to where Neve’s nesting, grab her and get out. Preferably through another exit.”
“There’re two drainage ditches. One on the north side, one on the south. We should be able to shimmy through either culvert. That, or it’s a jacket over the razor wire unless you want to walk down their driveway.”
“Let’s get Neve, first. Reassess, but my vote’s on the ditch. Less chance of one of these assholes tossing a knife our way.”
He took a step, paused as Scout stared down the corridor toward the main yard. “He’s not worth it, Scout.”
She shuffled in behind him. “You weren’t there when he turned and shot Kane. How he hunted us through the forest. How we all blame ourselves for not seeing him for what he was. Especially Neve.”
“No, I wasn’t. And I promise, we’ll get the bastard, just not here.”
She clenched her jaw but followed him, sticking to the shadows. She pointed to a stack slightly higher than the others about fifty meters off. “Neve was up there, but I can’t tell if she still is.”
Coulter started down the next pathway before grabbing Scout and dragging her into a gap in the twisted metal when two men crossed in front of them, both heading in the same direction. A spotlight flashed to life off to their right, the massive beam panning toward the stack.
He inched out. “Shit. If Fraser lights her up…”
He took off, darting down the row, pausing just long enough to check each direction before hoofing it to the next junction.
The light swept across the tops of the stacks, finally landing on the one Scout had pointed out.
He held his breath, still heading toward her, that beam bouncing along the tops.
A piece of metal clinked up ahead, followed by a low grunt.
That’s all the proof he needed that Neve was about to get ambushed, and he’d be damned if he lost her in a scrapyard no one would ever remember. Not when he’d just gotten her back. “Watch my six.”
He didn’t wait for Scout’s reply as he sprinted up the line, turned left then took the next right.
The area beneath the stack was wider than the others, a piece of rusted bumper lying on the ground.
One of the men reeled backwards, a metal spike sticking out of his shoulder as the other grabbed Neve by the throat, heaved her off her feet.
She countered, locked her hands around his thick wrist, used it as a lever to anchor her body, kick the guy in the balls.
He doubled over, loosening his grip when she elbowed him in the temple.
He released her, still trying to recover from the strike as Neve hit the ground, breath rattling free, eyes watering as she sucked in some air.
Dead.
That’s what those assholes would be in five seconds.
No second guessing. No complicated strategy. Coulter just removed one knife, tossed it at the asshole who’d touched her — caught him in the neck. He arched backwards, voice cut off, just the hilt sticking out the back before he keeled forward, hit the ground with a splash of mud and gravel.
His partner turned, yanked the spike out of his shoulder and brandished it at Coulter, the metal slicing the bastard’s palms, not that he seemed to notice.
But Coulter was already moving. Ducking in low, avoiding that first strike, then catching the man’s arm between his ribs and his own arm.
Three hard throat strikes with the edge of the GPS hard drive, and the guy’s eyes widened, his breath wheezing out in a frenzied attempt to draw in air.
A hit to the groin, chest, and nose, and the bastard fell, landing beside his buddy in a bloody mess.
Pain cracked through Coulter’s ribs, but he shoved it aside, grabbing Neve’s arm and helping her to her feet.
Blood dripped down her cheek from a gash across her forehead, more welling along her arms, though, he guessed those were a result of nesting on the stack.
Her neck looked red, and he knew she’d have some bruising later, but nothing life threatening.