Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A crack.
Sharp. Finite.
Rolling across the quarry, the accompanying dull thump of brass hitting flesh nearly toppling Coulter off the ladder.
Ten feet.
That’s all he’d had left when he’d heard the suppressed thunk of Neve’s rifle.
Not once, but twice. Louder than the previous shots, as if she’d moved outside.
He’d snapped his gaze toward the sound in time to see her silhouette jerk from the hit, tumbling her back several feet into a crumpled heap.
She stopped, head facing the opposite direction, nothing moving.
Wynn had appeared a moment later, crawling across the catwalk before bending over her. He’d caught the faint murmur of voices before she’d grabbed Neve’s vest, started dragging her backwards.
That’s when everything had changed.
Ramsey.
Standing on the platform behind them, weapon trained on Wynn’s head as he’d gloated, taunted them with a promise of even greater violence.
Not that Coulter didn’t believe the guy. He’d worked with men like Ramsey all his life, and he knew a cornered dog when he saw one. Either Ramsey was walking out of here alive, or he was taking the entire compound with him.
Coulter cleared the top rung, Sig in one hand, all his rage tightly coiled into white hot focus. Neve had taken the shots, knowing full-well she’d get hit. But she’d done it to save him. And he’d be damned if he’d lose her now.
Not to Ramsey.
Ramsey motioned with his gun to Wynn. “Take her weapon and yours and toss them aside. I don’t need either of you playing hero.”
Wynn eased Neve’s rifle off her shoulder, tossed it over the side of the catwalk before adding her weapons to the pile. “I’m putting pressure on her wound. Either shoot me for it, or just shut up.”
Ramsey grinned, his teeth overly white in the red glow from the flare. “She’s going to die one way or the other. Seems futile to try and stop it.”
Wynn ignored Ramsey, looking as if she had her knee on Neve’s side in an effort to slow the bleeding. A hushed whimper drifted on the breeze, that one sound focusing Coulter’s rage.
He scanned the area, moving through the shadows as he flanked left, climbed up a short set of rock steps to the catwalk attached to Ramsey’s platform and the container silhouetted behind him.
Either Ramsey heard a slight scuff, or he felt the same shift Coulter did — the one that screamed another apex predator had joined the fight.
The bastard looked toward Coulter’s position, called out to the darkness. “I know you’re there. Your girlfriend’s bleeding internally, and her teammate’s head is in my crosshairs. If you wait much longer, there won’t be anything left to save. Why don’t you come out and talk to me.”
Coulter judged the angle. Half the guy’s body was visible through the steel framing.
He could hit Ramsey, but not in the sweet spot at the base of his skull where Coulter could guarantee the guy wouldn’t jerk, get off a shot.
If that happened… Wynn or Neve would get hit.
And that was ignoring the dead man’s switch.
Sure, Ramsey could be bluffing, but in Coulter’s experience, men like him didn’t bluff. The only question was whether Ramsey had armed the switch yet.
Coulter studied the structure around Ramsey. If this section was used to simulate urban, close quarters fighting like he suspected, there might be another option.
There.
Behind the other man. A length of piping running along the upper roofline of the adjoining container.
What Coulter hoped was high pressure water or gas.
Something that would give him several seconds to cover the distance between them before Ramsey recovered, either got off a shot, or pressed the damn switch.
He took a breath, kept his Sig centered on Ramsey’s head, then stepped into the edge of the flare’s light.
Smiling, Ramsey pinned his gaze on him, seemingly unfazed by Coulter’s pistol. “I still don’t know your name.”
Coulter stopped, glanced at Wynn, then back. “I guess Fraser didn’t get a chance to fill you in.”
“Fraser was expendable. I got what I needed out of him.”
“It’s Barrett. Coulter Barrett.”
“Barrett. Thank you. I hate not knowing what to write down in my book.”
“If you’re so eager to jot down my name, why aren’t you firing?”
Ramsey shrugged. “We’ve got a bit of time. After all, your girl hasn’t bled out, yet.”
“Men like you don’t showboat.” He took a step, glancing at the switch, how Ramsey’s thumb was already compressing a button. If he released the pressure… They’d all blow. “You’re stalling.”
Ramsey motioned to Coulter’s weapon. “If you pull that trigger, you’ll blow us all up.”
Coulter held firm. “Maybe, if I was aiming at you.”
He fired, hit the valve above and behind Ramsey with a shrill ping.
The handle blew off, a high-pressured stream of water vapor spewing out, hitting Ramsey in the back.
He shouted, turned to avoid the spray as Coulter took off, holstering his Sig as he sprinted along the catwalk, narrowing Ramsey’s focus to his body barreling toward him.
The other man got off a couple trigger pulls, sheared one off the railing, the other catching Coulter in the side of his vest. The round mushroomed against the Kevlar as pain spread through his ribs, choking off his breath, but he pushed through, took the final crushing steps toward Ramsey before bowling the guy over.
They stumbled against the railing, boots clattering, the impact knocking them sideways. Coulter grabbed Ramsey’s pistol, clamped his palm around the slide, then slid it back, locking it in place as he reached for the switch — got his thumb wedged over Ramsey’s on the button.
Ramsey fought back, landing a knee to Coulter’s groin before Coulter countered with a headbutt, dazing the guy. The strike spun the scenery, every old injury sparking to life as they grappled for control, each trying to get in a hit that would change the dynamics, shift the power.
Ramsey managed to push off the rail, send them careening backwards. Coulter’s shoulders hit the grating with a hard smack, the impact jarring his ribs, but he moved with it, using Ramsey’s momentum to launch him over his shoulders — tumble him across the platform.
The move wrenched Coulter’s hands off Ramsey for a few terrifying seconds before he rolled with the force and dove on top of the guy, cinching one hand around Ramsey’s wrist, the other over the button.
Ramsey landed a few knees to Coulter’s hips before Coulter managed to slam Ramsey’s gun hand against the grating, knocking the Sig out of his grip and onto the rocks beneath them.
Ramsey grunted, twisted his arm free and caught Coulter in the jaw.
Coulter’s head snapped back, dots exploding across his vision, everything flashing white.
He focused on the switch, on keeping the pressure on the button, when Ramsey landed a couple brutal strikes to his injured ribs.
Pain clogged his throat, a coppery taste filling his mouth.
His finger slipped slightly, that button popping up a fraction of an inch before he clenched his fist, squeezing so hard one of Ramsey’s fingers cracked from the strain.
The bastard shouted, tried to draw his spare twenty-two with his other hand when Coulter tucked his shoulder and rolled.
The sudden force twisted Ramsey’s arm in his socket, the guy’s shoulder popping out with a bone-crushing crack.
He screamed, that arm going limp, the switch practically falling into Coulter’s hand.
He fisted the mechanism, thumb fully engaged on the trigger as he snagged his KA-BAR, threw it as he pushed onto all fours, catching Ramsey in the neck just as the guy raised his pistol, finger caressing the trigger.
A round cracked off the railing, whizzing past Coulter’s head as Ramsey clutched his throat, eyes wide, a strangled rasp gurgling free. He wavered, swaying left then right before tumbling off the side and into the darkness below.
Rain streamed down Coulter’s face, his ribs protesting every gasping breath as he staggered to his feet, deactivated the switch, then stumbled his way over to Wynn. Blood welled between her fingers, Neve’s skin so damn white he wasn’t sure how she hadn’t faded already.
Wynn motioned to her kit. “Grab the QuickClot and more sponges. Another pressure bandage, too.”
Coulter shoved the switch into his pocket, then rummaged for the supplies, handing them to Wynn as she exposed the wounds and began layering on powder and bandages. Neve groaned, eyelids fluttering, one hand lifting to bat at Wynn’s.
Wynn grasped her hand, held it against her chest. “I know. Hurts like a bastard, but I have to stop the bleeding.”
Coulter bent over Neve, palming her cheek until she blinked a few times, slivered open her eyes. He took her hand from Wynn’s, held it tight. “Hey, beautiful. Eyes on me, sweetheart.”
Neve coughed, faded then jolted back, staring up at him as if he’d actually saved her. “Next time, you ride the lift.”
He laughed. Not because it was funny but because she was still alive. Still able to be saved. He leaned in close, warming her clammy skin with his. “Deal, but that means you gotta keep fighting. Keep breathing.”
She nodded. Not much, maybe an inch of movement before her eyes drifted closed.
He squeezed her hand. “That’s an order Master Warrant. Eyes open and on me.”
Neve groaned again. “I take it back. You’re not charming, you’re a hardass.”
“Damn straight. And I’ll only get worse if you even think of dying on me.”
Wynn wrapped the last of the bandages, zipped her kit. “Her pressure’s dropping. She needs blood, and I can’t do that here. We need to move, now.”
Coulter released Neve’s hand, then scooped her up, using his shoulder to keep pressure on her side as he headed for the ladder, careful not to jostle her as he climbed down, ribs screaming, head pounding. His boots clanged on the wet metal, each step broadcasting his position.
Wynn had Scout and Zadie on the comms, coordinating the rest of the retreat, as she followed him down, doing her best to sweep the area with her rifle. Scout met them at the bottom, mouth pinched tight, her rifle at the ready.
Her voice wavered as she stared at Neve. “Anyone left standing took off in a couple Hummers. Said something about Ramsey rigging the place to blow. I’ll take point. You just focus on following without tripping.”
She turned, raced across the pit, looking more than lethal as she cleared each section, then darted ahead, ducking back through the fence. She grabbed the cutters, cut the chain link all the way through, then peeled back one side.
Coulter squeezed through, headed for the SUV when a deep whop pounded the air, the heavy beat echoing in his chest. A spotlight panned the forest a few miles off, blinking lights marking out the helicopter’s progression.
Scout jumped behind the wheel, revving the engine once they’d clambered in, Wynn wedged between the seats as she took Neve’s vitals.
Gravel pinged off the undercarriage, the entire vehicle fishtailing as Scout roared down the road, taking the turns as if she knew what was around the corner before they’d even reached it.
The rotors sounded louder, that light brightening the canopy just ahead of them. Scout veered off the road, nosing the SUV into a tight opening between two massive spruce as the chopper soared overhead, the large beam sweeping over them, then continuing on.
Coulter bit back a curse. While he knew they needed to wait until it was clear, he couldn’t stop staring at Neve. At the blood already seeping through the bandages. How she faded in and out of consciousness, giving him fleeting glimpses of her insanely blue eyes.
It should be him bleeding out.
Wynn started an IV, adjusting the rate of the fluid before she nudged him. “You’re O neg, right?”
Coulter didn’t wait, just rolled up his sleeve. “Take whatever you need.”
“Easy there, big guy. She just needs a pint to keep her stable until we get back to the bunker. I’d use someone else, but no one else is a match.”
“We both know she’s lost more than a pint.”
“And we both also know you’re in no shape to be donating one, let alone more. But my gut says you won’t outright die on me before we get back, so…” Wynn looked over her shoulder at Scout. “Give me sixty seconds before you peel out.”
Scout waited until the chopper disappeared over the training site, and Wynn gave her the all clear sign, then reversed, kicking the vehicle back up to speed a heartbeat later.
She glanced in the rearview, eyes narrowed, lips twisted into the beginnings of a frown.
“RCMP, again. We’re lucky we got out when we did. ”
Coulter looked out the back, the scenery dipping and blurring a bit. “Do you think that guy you know, I think Neve said his name is Quinn, was on it?”
Scout met his gaze in the mirror for a moment. “Probably.”
“You okay?”
Her focus dropped to Neve. “Ask me again after Darwin pulls another save out of his ass.” She hit the accelerator. “Hold on. We’re not losing anyone tonight.”