Chapter 15 #2
She glanced at the rails, the way the unit swung from the combined weight of his teammates shuffling across, wondering if she should have insisted on a different exit strategy before reaching for his belt, again. “I’ve got your six.”
Nick leaned in, his mouth next to hers. “Never doubted that in all the years we’ve been running ops. Just do me a favor? Don’t be a damn martyr… If you think you’re going to pass out, tell me before you slip under a rail or face-plant onto the glass.”
“No hero moments. Got it.”
That earned her a smile, though, even with her head pounding, her vision blurring at the edges, she realized it fell short of reaching his eyes.
Nick turned, looking as if that one movement had cost him, then started out. Slower than when they’d been trekking through the wing, as if he knew she was only a bad step away from collapsing.
The skyway shimmied as they inched onto the first panel, a hushed groan sounding from overhead.
She looked up, staring at where the cables vanished into the shadows lining the ceiling.
As if they simply stopped a few feet shy of the anchors, held in place by thought alone.
Below them, the laminated glass distorted the dizzying drop, blurring the dimly lit atrium enough that the distance felt personal — pulled at her balance.
Nick caught her attention, tsked. “Eyes on me, sweetheart. And once we’re over, I’m carrying you, so make peace with that before we reach the door.”
She tried to flash him her best stink-eye, barely managing a creepy wink, but he grinned at her attempt — started leading them across the gap.
Bodie and Dalton maneuvered Kessler between them, each keeping a hand on the guy’s arms in case he tried to bolt, while Avery, Buck, and Tierney moved in sync, Buck constantly searching the shadows as if he expected the Reaper to detach from one — launch another attack.
Nick reached the halfway point, started picking up the pace, as if he could taste victory from thirty feet away, when a faint vibration groaned through the steel. Nick slowed, looking back at her when a sharp, metallic ping lit the air.
The catwalk shifted, the steel frame shrieking in protest as one of the tension cables snapped, the long length curling down from the ceiling like an angry snake. It hit the skyway, cracking two panels before slipping off, dangling twenty feet below them.
The platform shook, dropping a few degrees to the left, the other cables whining in protest as they braced the added weight. Nick took a step, tested the integrity when a series of sharp, decisive cracks rattled the air, more of the cables falling from above.
Nick spun, curled over her, shielding her as the braided lines whipped around them, slamming against the walkway as they dropped toward the main floor. Glass splintered, then shattered, the steel frame giving beneath the immense weight.
Nick tightened his grip on Sloane’s vest, twisted her in front of him. “Go.”
She tripped forward, forcing one foot in front of the other when the catwalk rolled — canting toward the atrium at some obtuse angle.
Bodie and the others scrambled onto the far side, Buck barely making it over before the last section of the bridge gave way — collapsed into the chasm below.
It hit the lower floor, exploding in a shower of glass and steel.
Sloane slipped as the span shuddered, tilting down at a twenty-degree angle, sweeping her feet out from under her. She hit the cracked glass, slid, boots cresting the edge before Nick snagged her wrist — caught her before she tumbled over the side.
Pain ricocheted through her chest, that wound burning into a raging fire beneath her skin.
She fought to hold on, clawing at the surface as Nick abandoned his rifle, used both hands to pull her onto the platform — drag her into his lap.
He tugged her close, dropped a quick kiss on her forehead, then heaved her to her feet, his strength keeping her upright.
He reached for his rifle, when the platform tipped more, nearly chucking them over the side as his rifle slipped on the glass, vanished into the darkness below.
A hushed curse, then he retreated, backing them up as more of the skyway collapsed. They reached the rear landing, scrambled onto the grated metal just as the last section dropped, an explosive concussive thump shaking the building.
Bodie stared at them from the other side, looking as if he planned on swinging across on one of the hanging cables when Nick waved him off. Their comms buzzed, Bodie’s voice calling to them.
“We’re not leaving here without you two.”
Nick sighed, meeting his gaze across the gap. “Go. We’ll find another way to the landing zone.”
“Colter…”
“We’ve only got a few minutes left. Go. We’ll be there.”
Sloane tried to bridge her weight as Nick dragged her back a few feet, considering their limited options like a man who’d just had his dreams stolen.
He looked her in the eyes. “Well, sweetheart? Window or door? Because there’s no way we’re going back down the stairs if Hill’s hit squad is still sweeping the building.”
“Try the door. If it opens, we’ll see what’s behind it. If it doesn’t, you can break the window.”
He leaned her against the wall, covered the few feet to the door, tried the handle, eventually giving it a good shove with his shoulder. “Locked.”
She wet her lip, pushed off. “I might be able to hotwire…”
She tanked, Nick catching her a heartbeat later.
He tsked. “How about you focus on not passing out. I’ll get us clear.”
He kept her close as he changed courses, unholstered his Sig — fired a couple shots to weaken the integrity of the glass — then cracked it open with the grip of his gun.
Wind and rain howled through the break, the blast of fresh air cooling her skin. She breathed it in, aware her vision hadn’t changed, everything still a wash of gray.
The blood loss, she reckoned. What was likely behind the chill slowly shaking through her. The tingling sensation in her hands.
Nick snapped his fingers in front of her face, jolting her back. “Damn it, you need a hospital. Now.”
She smiled. “Or maybe, I just need you.”
He snorted. “And there’s the delirium talking. C’mon. I’ve got us an alternate rescue.”
She staggered with him to the window, legs so heavy they barely moved, that thick feeling in her head slowly fading down her torso.
She looked out, inhaled. A lone metal rail had been bolted onto the side of the building, a high-tech window washing platform resting on it just left of the window. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He grabbed her vest, tugged her in close. “Just like Prague.”
“It’s nothing like Prague. Does it even have power?”
“Nope, but there’s a manual crank that raises the platform to the roof. From there, we can make our way across to the LZ.”
She eyed the narrow strip — the gaping expanse of darkness beyond. “Nick, I’m not sure—”
“You’re making it. Period. Understand?”
He didn’t wait for her to reply, just hauled her onto the rail, his grip like steel. A clear message that he wasn’t letting her go unless they jumped, together. He balanced her against the wall, then slowly inched toward the rig.
The wind lashed the ropes, the surface slippery from the unrelenting rain. He reached the edge, scooted around her and onto the platform before lifting her in beside him. He locked her against his chest, as if he feared she’d simply slip out through the open slats, then started turning the handle.
The rig shook, creaking and groaning as it slowly rose, rocking back and forth with the gusting wind. Nick muscled the crank, every rotation buying them an inch of height as the gears screamed in protest.
Sloane slumped against the railing, her Sig loose in one hand, the other clamped over the bandages — a weak attempt at adding more pressure. Her internal timer neared the end, the Reaper’s plan only minutes away from initiating.
The edge of the building loomed closer, a black streak amidst the stormy sky.
Clouds rolled overhead, a hint of moonlight flashing between the towering columns.
The wind kicked up as they gained more elevation, whipping rain in her eyes as she stared at the yawning darkness below them, the ground so far down her vision blurred, graying out before it hit the surface.
The rig ground to a halt, slapping against the roofline like a battered screen door.
Nick adjusted his hold, one hand still fisted around the vest’s handle as he climbed over the edge.
He braced his feet, then dragged her out.
She fell against his chest, all that talk about soldiering on fading into the chill seeping beneath her skin, the heaviness weighing her down.
Nick hiked her into his arms, his face a mask of fear and unwavering determination. He got his bearings, then turned right, when a high-velocity round sparked off the metal rail, whizzed past Nick’s head close enough he flinched.
Nick curled over her, blocked any viable sightline as he returned half a dozen trigger pulls — bought them enough time to shift behind a massive HVAC stack.
Sloane blinked against the streaks sliding across her vision, tracking a shadowed silhouette through the steam rising from the vents scattered along the gravel roof. The guy didn’t bolt — he moved with a predatory efficiency that screamed special forces. And Sloane knew they’d run out of time.