Chapter 5 #2
McGuire waved her on, both men sweeping their side of the hallway, when shots ricocheted off the metal walls, sicarios pouring in both sides. She turned, but McGuire pushed her toward that open hatch, firing off a volley of cover rounds.
“Go!” He rolled across to the other side, took out two frontrunners. “We’re right behind you.”
Riven hesitated, then dashed off, mentally promising to kick McGuire’s ass if he didn’t follow.
Heat slammed her as she rounded a corner, the diesel noise like a wall.
Another set of stairs led deeper into the belly, the narrow rungs slick with spray and grease.
She grabbed the handrail, slipped down the first three steps before she caught her balance, landed on the lower level with a hard thunk.
The room opened into a maze of pipes and cables, steam hissing in the background. She followed the main line, heart pounding, all that noise scattering her thoughts until she found the main bulkhead.
A thick cable snaked down from the top, a red, T-handle dangling below.
She holstered her weapon, grabbed the handle with both hands, pulled.
The engines coughed, everything knocking and choking before it sputtered and died, leaving an odd void where all that noise had been.
The trawler shuddered, listed hard to port before slowing, water dripping somewhere in the distance.
She stuffed the cable behind the engines, hopefully buying some time before anyone could reset it, then shifted to the electrical panel, flipped the main breaker.
The boat went dark. No flashing or flickering, just an instant shift to black.
She held firm, the utter lack of light eliciting a moment of panic before the emergency running lights punched on, bathing the interior in a crimson glow.
Riven drew a couple deep breaths, watching for McGuire and Patch when a shadow peeled off the machinery, his dark rain slicker gleaming red, pistol aimed her way.
Martillo grinned, fired.
The round hit the fuel tank an inch from her ear, punched right through with a deafening thump.
She dodged left, avoided his next shot before barreling into him forearms up, all her weight crashing them both into a wall.
His gun clattered to the deck, skittering under a grate before falling between the cracks.
Martillo grabbed her shoulders, his sheer strength shoving her back.
Riven ducked his first punch, countering with two quick strikes — throat and kidney — before raking her fingernails down his face.
He shouted, caught her in the temple with an openhanded slap.
Stars exploded behind her eyes, the coppery taste of blood filling her mouth.
She crashed into a panel, twisting out of his grip as she grabbed a wrench off a tool stash, jammed it in his ribs. He hissed, managed to knock the wrench aside before grinning as he fisted her jacket — yanked her in close.
His heated breath washed across her face, both hands shifting to her throat when she clenched her jaw, slammed her forehead against his nose.
Pain danced behind her eyes, everything spinning before she tumbled back, hit that same wall.
She blinked, blade glinting in the light above her as he lowered his arm, teeth barred, eyes wild.
She blocked the strike in the cross of her arms, muscles straining, that knife closing in on her face.
Riven braced her feet and twisted, lowering her right shoulder.
Their weight shifted, kicked everything off-balance enough that the blade glanced off another fuel bladder, sparks hissing in its wake, a long groove piercing the container.
That opened up his right side.
A couple hard, tight jabs before she dropped to the floor, rolled under a pipe as Martillo recovered, swiping at her, the knife carving a line across the bulkhead.
She popped out on the other side, alarms still blaring, a few strobing lights flashing in the darkness.
Footsteps clanged in front of her, Martillo rounding the machinery, teeth flashing in the dull light.
He lunged at her, boots slipping on an oil spill, tumbling him into the pipe instead.
A black cell clattered onto the floor, skipping toward her.
She planted her boot in the screen, toed it across the metal grating, then dove toward the far wall.
She elbowed in a glass case, grabbed the fire extinguisher from inside.
A quick pull, and she had the nozzle aimed his way, pin a distant memory.
He turned, lunged, again, until she blasted him in the face, a rush of cold, white air roaring through the room. He flinched, coughing against the frigid cloud as ice seared across his skin, a line of frost crystallizing along the pipe.
She dropped the tank, hands numb. Not damaged like Martillo’s face but not working right, either.
She practiced fisting them as she ran back toward that access, silently wondering if McGuire and Patch were still engaging Martillo’s men or if they’d taken too many hits — were bleeding out.
She reached the adjoining corridor moving fast, when a flare sizzled down the stairs, the fireball exploding into a wash of red across the engine room.
Screams echoed above, more gunfire popping to life.
The impact sent her tumbling backwards, breath wheezing out as she hit hard, gun slipping free. Spots danced behind her eyes, the room fading in and out before she blinked the fuzziness away, took stock.
Martillo staggered around the corner, eyes thin slits, half his face burned black. He raised his hands, knuckles bloodied from digging between the grates, his pistol sweeping the room.
Their gazes locked, but his gun merely clicked as he squeezed the trigger. She rolled, felt for her weapon, his footsteps pounding the floor behind her. Fast, then faster, eating up the distance, an angry growl echoing around her.
She pushed harder, finally slipped her fingers around the grip, pulling it free a moment before the asshole closed his hands around her jacket, physically yanking her back and tossing her across the floor.
More dots and an odd roar in her head as she bounced off a pipe, her breath torn from her chest.
Footsteps echoed behind her, quickly closing in as her name boomed above the alarm, the familiar tone stealing her next breath.
She rolled, swept her weapon across the room, everything tilting left and right, as McGuire barreled down the steps, Sig in one hand, gaze focused on her. He grunted, raised his gun and fired.