Chapter 20 #2
Bodie turned, his right leg burning white-hot from the strain.
All the healing from the past several days fading into the grind of metal on bone.
Rowan shouldered up beside him, weapon at the ready.
She arched a brow, silently asked if he was okay.
He nodded, smiled when she shook her head, read through his lie, then headed for the exit.
They got within striking distance when it bounced open, Nick, Buck, and Avery stepping inside, weapons tight to their chests.
Nick jogged over, a black receiver clipped to his belt.
“I called our ride. Foster’s inbound, but the weather’s gone for crap.
Said our window’s quickly closing.” He held up the radio.
“And if that’s not enough, Graves has a team rappelling down the elevator shafts, with another coming in hot.
We’ve got ninety seconds to get to the cliff. ”
Bodie nodded. “Then, what the hell are you waiting for, brother?”
Buck took point, clearing the grounds as they poured onto the gravel pad. Rain slashed sideways across the grass, the wind physically pushing them back. Massive diesel generators roared next to them, the oily scent staining each breath.
They headed for the back corner, moving in sync, Rowan and Avery running point. Branches thrashed along the perimeter, the hum from the microwaves carrying up through the ground.
Nick bolted ahead, killed the sensors with the second EMP as Buck clipped the chain-link in record time. Dalton barely slowed as Buck reefed the sides apart, helped Dalton through.
The rest of the team flowed through the gap, shouts rising behind them.
Those teams Nick had mentioned closing in fast. Bodie cleared the fence line when a black SUV skidded around the far bend, grass and dirt spraying out the side.
It fishtailed left and right, the tires finally gaining enough traction to shoot it forward.
He went to one knee, covered his team as the SUV roared to a halt, the doors swinging open before the chassis stopped rocking. Three men spilled out, took cover behind the doors as a fourth guy slipped from the rear driver’s side, stepped into the rain.
Holt Graves.
Buck whistled, and Bodie backed up, laying down cover fire when Holt’s men tried to rush the fence line. They hit the ground, mud splashing into the air, the sensors humming back to life.
Holt shouted something, the words swallowed by the rain and the wind, the distant crash of waves.
They sprinted along the trail, Buck tossing a couple countermeasures into the woods.
The bombs detonated a heartbeat later, crashing some deadwoods across the path.
What might buy them a minute or two. They reached the rock face, clothes soaked through, the rain slicing like knives across the ridge.
Dalton handed Alister off to Buck, shouldered up beside Bodie. “You’re limping, again.”
Bodie snorted. “And that cut on your cheek’s still bleeding.”
Dalton shoulder his weapon, muzzle sweeping the trail. “Foster’s one minute out.”
Bodie nodded, aware that was likely fifty-nine seconds too long, their tenuous lead quickly fading.
But he held firm, kept scanning the grounds, the heavy beat of the rotors sounding in the distance.
He glanced over his shoulder as the helicopter bled out of the storm, twenty feet off the surf, twin vortices spiraling out the back.
Foster didn’t slow, bleeding off the speed in one insane flare before towing the right skid onto the cliff.
Kash and Zain flew out the open doors, waving everyone in as the chopper rocked from the violent drafts. Buck jumped on first, Alister slung over one shoulder, Tierney at his side. Nick and Avery went next, Rowan yelling at them to haul ass.
Dalton shoved Bodie ahead of him, laying down a spray of rounds when two men appeared on the trailhead, muzzles flashing in the darkness. Bullets whizzed past them, pinged off the cowling, as they raced for the chopper.
Bodie stepped up, nearly fell through the skids when a severe updraft physically lifted the machine, tipped it dangerously close to the trees. Dalton grabbed Bodie’s vest, yanked him back as Foster took off, vanishing into the clouds a second later.
Dalton shoved Bodie behind a log, popped out to send Graves’ forces scrambling for deeper cover, casings clanking against the stone. Bodie fired the next round, changing out his magazine before firing, again.
He ducked down as the men blasted the cliff front, rounds thumping into the wood. “He’s coming back.”
Dalton merely nodded. “Wouldn’t expect any less. But on the off-chance he can’t, you think you can jump without the impact tearing through your leg?”
Bodie snorted. “It’s a good eighty feet down.”
“Better than dying here…” Dalton glanced at Bodie. “Or worse.”
Bodie stilled, forced himself to swallow. “Never again, brother. I promise you that.”
Dalton’s muscles tensed. “We’ll give Foster another couple minutes, then we either make a run for that gully trail, or we jump.”
“Hooyah.”
Dalton chuckled, went through another mag, then half of his next, constantly checking their six, watching the sky. Two minutes came and went before he sighed, shook his head. “I’ve only got a couple mags left. Time to make the tough call.”
Branches snapped off to their left, more men flanking their position through the woods.
Bodie grunted as he fired a couple more rounds. “I really hate jumping, you know that, right?”
“You were a damn Army Ranger. It was literally part of your job.”
“With a parachute. Not this cowboy, stuntman shit.” Bodie paused. “At least, Rowan’s safe.”
Dalton chuckled. “Judging on way she looked at you before Foster had to peel off, you might not be if we live through this.”
“I’ll take whatever she dishes out.” He looked at Dalton, said what he hadn’t voiced out loud. The truth he needed someone to hear, a way of making it real, just in case. “I think I love her.”
Dalton snorted. “About damn time. You ready?”
Bodie drew in a deep breath. “On three?”
“Sounds good.”
“On my count. One… Two…”
Thunder. Sounding off to the right, beating up through the rocks as Foster’s helicopter rose from behind the cliff, cresting the ledge like a damn wraith.
Smoke rose off the rotor head, a few holes punched through the sides as he pulled up short.
Bullets rained out from the back, either Zain or Kash stitching a line across the trail.
Graves’ forces retreated, shouts mixing with the howl of the downwash. A line rolled out from the ass end, a couple harnesses snapping in the wind.
Dalton had Bodie on his feet, sprinting for the line a heartbeat later.
They slipped the harnesses over their heads, barely snugging them beneath their arms before Foster pulled pitch, dropped the bird off the cliff, every movement shuddering through the fuselage as he shoved the nose down, screamed toward the water.
The rocks rushed past, the spray clawing at their boots before the machine leveled off, headed north.
Bodie held on, vowing he’d get Foster back, his stomach lodged up in his throat. Rain sliced at his skin, the wind chilling him to the point he couldn’t feel his face. His buddy eventually slowed, brought the chopper into a high hover once they’d put about a mile between them and the facility.
Dalton looked ready to rage war by the time Zain dragged them into the cabin, shutting out the storm. “I swear to god, that was worse than Colter’s rescue, and I’d been waiting five years for that one.”
Kash chuckled. “Trust me, jumping into the ocean this time of year would have been worse. Because that was your next move, right?”
Dalton flipped Kash off, cinching the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “Am I having a stroke or does everyone else smell smoke?”
Foster looked back over his shoulder. “We took some damage. Engine’s puking oil, temps are climbing. I can milk her back to the hangar, but I won’t be able to make it to Providence, even if the weather wasn’t this bad.”
Bodie clapped Foster on the shoulder. “You came back, brother. Can’t ask for more than that.” He nodded at Rowan’s dad. “How’s Alister?”
Chase looked back over his shoulder from the other side of the cabin.
“Hard to tell. His vitals are all over the place, and he’s slipping in and out of consciousness, but he’s alive.
” Chase sighed. “This isn’t anything I can fix.
He needs a secure place he can rest until there’s no longer a threat.
We’ll run through some options once we’re back at Raven’s Watch. ”
Dalton loosened his vest, reached inside and removed those IV bags from the hospital and some folded papers. “This might help. It’s the Neuravive serum they’d been administering. Seems to be restoring some of his cognitive functions, at least, that’s what his files say.”
Chase accepted both, brow raised. “Where the hell did you get these?”
“They were hanging on the IV cart next to his bed. Thought it couldn’t hurt.”
Chase shook his head as he grabbed supplies, started one of them dripping away.
Bodie nodded his thanks. “Looks like I owe you guys. Again.”
Kash waved it off. “You’ve had our backs from the start, buddy. We’re good.”
Rowan shuffled in beside Bodie, punched him in the arm as soon as she’d settled in. “That’s for lying to me.”
Bodie held up one hand, torn between wanting to talk it out and wanting to kiss her. “When?”
“You promised I’d get to go last the next time we were staring down mercenaries. Yet, there you were, hanging from a chopper because you went last. Again.”
He smiled, gave into the urge and dropped a quick kiss on her mouth. “I’ll make it up to you.”
She stared at him, looking as if she might loop the harness around him and shove him back out the door, before she huffed, laid her head on his shoulder. “You’d better. And next time, kiss me like you mean it.”
“Deal.”
He relaxed against the seat, content to give himself the next ten minutes to just breathe — enjoy the easy press of her body against his — appreciate the fact they’d gotten out mostly unscathed when static filled the cabin, the radio at Nick’s hip crackling to life.
“Roger, alpha team. Termination protocol initiated. Black code tracker coming through five-by-five.”
A pause, then another voice. Low. Gruff. “What the hell, Westwood. I said no chatter on open channels.”
The unit clicked, a thick silence bleeding through.
Nick cleared his throat. “Everyone heard that, right? I’m not crazy?”
Bodie cursed. “Chase…”
“Already on it.” Chase had Alister on one side as Chase smoothed his fingers along his skin. He hit Alister’s hip, swore. “I’ve got something under his skin.”
Chase smeared some cream on the older man’s hip, then carefully sliced a small line across his flesh. A micro-chip slipped out with a smear of blood, the obvious truth staring up at them. “Shit.”
Bodie held out his hand, turned the unit over a few times, muttering under his breath. “I should have guessed they’d tagged him.”
Rowan sighed. “It wouldn’t have mattered if you had. We didn’t have enough time to check before we would have been overrun. You barely made it down that chute as it was.”
“Still…” He fisted it, wondering if he should simply crush the thing when Dalton placed his hand over Bodie’s.
He leaned in, sighed. “I have an idea.”
Bodie groaned. “Is it better than jumping off that cliff?”
“Not really.”
“I’m listening.”
Dalton glanced at everyone, removed the syringe he’d obviously pocketed back in the facility. “We’ve got samples of both compounds and living proof of what they’ve done. This isn’t a coverup anymore. It’s a fire they can’t afford to leave burning.”
“You think they’ll come after us.”
Dalton raised a brow. “Wouldn’t you?”
Rowan inched closer. “You want to use the tracker to our advantage. Lure them to us.”
Dalton released a weary breath. “You heard the message. They’re already on their way.”
Rowan looked at her father, drew herself up. “Then, let’s control what they find.”