Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nick pressed his back into the humming metal stack, his Sig sitting shoulder high, Sloane, a heavy, trembling weight against his side. He still had one hand fisted through the handle, preventing her from crumpling to the ground.
It wouldn’t be long now. The slowed movements, the head bobbing, how she couldn’t keep her weapon tracking a target for more than a couple seconds before it dipped — pointed mostly at the roof.
Her injuries were winning, and if he didn’t get her into the chopper, then into a hospital soon, she’d die.
He huffed at the thought.
Cold day in hell he’d let her die on his watch.
He took a breath, popped out, getting a bead on the Reaper a moment before retreating, a volley of brass denting the other side of the stack.
Nick tried again, got off a couple shots, but the Reaper returned fire, landing each hit within an inch of Nick’s head — the kind of precision he’d only ever witnessed in the Teams — the last one mushrooming against his vest, stealing his breath as pain crushed his chest.
His vision swam, lungs locked down tight before slowly easing, allowing a hint of air past the vice-like grip. He looked for better cover, but the Reaper took advantage of any hint of movement, whizzing rounds past his head, driving him back.
Sloane tipped against his shoulder, jerking awake when he turned toward her, cupped her chin. She blinked, gazing at him as if she couldn’t quite figure out where his face was before grunting.
He leaned in. “Don’t you give up on me, sweetheart. Not, now.”
More blinking as her head rolled a bit, her tongue darting out to trace her bottom lip. “I’m still… still standing… But I’m slowing… you down. You need…” Her breath hitched as her eyelids fluttered before she must have shoved down the pain. “You should leave me here—”
“Not an option.”
“I don’t mean forever. Just for a minute. I… I can stay behind the…” She gestured at the stack, eyelids drooping, her arm barely moving more than a few inches. “You can’t fight this asshole with one arm literally tied behind your back, keeping me on my feet.”
“If it means not leaving you behind, I’ll resort to gnawing his damn ankles off. We stay together. End of story.”
He fired off more cover rounds out of spite and fear and the growing dread in his gut. That he’d have to spend the next sixty years alone, knowing he’d failed Sloane the one time she’d needed him the most.
“Nick…”
He shook his head, dragging her face to his.
“Either we both make it out of here alive, or we both die. It’s a simple as that because I’m never leaving you again.
Never should have let you walk out that night without stopping you, telling you that I’m fucking in love with you.
Have been forever. I just needed a different perspective to put it all together.
Gather the courage to tell you that these past two months have been hell. That there’s no me without you.”
He eased her back, changing mags as he readied his stance. “So, we’re gonna stay together, take care of this bastard, then get you to the hospital so you can tell me you love me, too.”
Sloane stared up at him, eyes wide, breath whistling out in eerie shallow rasps. She tsked, a weak smile curving her lips. “Hooyah.”
He laughed. “That’s my girl.”
Steam poured out of more vents, the air a humid, soggy mass of swirling gray mist. He snugged his arm around Sloane’s waist, got her moving horizontally across the roof when a massive, circular duct hissed out an eerie warning, a tendril of smoke twirling into the air.
A series of muffled, subterranean thumps shook the building, the resulting shock nearly taking them both to their knees.
He braced his hand against an AC unit, a high-pitched whine blaring out the grated opening before the entire thing blew, a sixty-foot pillar of high-pressure, incinerator flame shooting out the top.
The fire flickered, licking at the fog and the rain, vaporizing the moisture as it superheated the air.
The doomsday protocol Sloane had mentioned.
Nick redirected them, bypassed the open flames as he headed for the far side, what looked like solid ground.
A figure stalked behind him, shifting the smoke and mist as if it obeyed his wishes.
The Reaper didn’t fire, his boots tapping the tar paper, his presence tingling the hairs on the back of Nick’s neck.
The footsteps shifted, paralleled their route, the Reaper appearing and disappearing amidst the white plumes.
Nick kept them moving, looking for any viable way down when the roof creaked, beams cracking beneath them as the gravel on the tar paper shook.
The building groaned, the hollow sound the only warning before new flames clawed at the sky, punching through fissures in the roof, creating a maze of blazing fire.
Heat punched at them like a fist, beating them back as the surface bowed, a few sections sagging from the stress.
Shots pinged off the metal stacks next to Nick’s chest as the Reaper rounded the far side, closing the angle and forcing them back.
Nick blew through the rest of his mag while dragging Sloane across the roof, weaving through the labyrinth of metal and wood.
They hit an open section, picked up a bit of speed, when a thunderous crack split the air, the section beneath their feet shuddering.
Nick spun, shoved Sloane ahead of him just as the supports gave way, a large portion of the roof collapsing amidst a choking cloud of smoke and ash. He dropped, legs slipping backwards, chest smacking the lip as he clawed at the roof, managed to grab the edge of a compressor.
The air slammed out of his lungs, pain spreading across his ribs as he kicked at the emptiness, scrambling for purchase until Sloane’s hand cinched around his wrist. His gaze flew up, locked with hers, her eyes clearer than they’d been since she’d been stabbed.
She pulled hard, giving him the bit of momentum he needed to swing his legs, get one, dull boot wedged against a charred beam.
Smoke and steam rose out of the pit, more of the surrounding structure groaning and creaking as he dragged himself out, crawling onto a solid section. His muscles screamed, throat raw from breathing in the toxic fumes, but he pushed to his feet, heaved Sloane alongside him.
She moved with him, more like dead weight than before, each step seemingly eating away at what little strength she had left. They reached the edge of the building, followed the parapet south when a round grazed his thigh, another punching into his vest.
He tripped, his Kevlar one stressor away from packing it in, as he grabbed a smoke grenade, tossed it behind him.
It clicked across the narrow section still fighting gravity, spun to a stop, then blew, a plume of gray vapor billowing behind them.
Not enough to cover a full retreat, but it bought Nick a few seconds — gave him a chance to disappear behind a small wooden shed.
Sloane tightened her fist around his shirt, face ashen, fresh blood soaking through the bandages. Her lips quirked a moment before she slid down the wall, ass hitting the floor with a dull thud.
He crouched in front, brushing back her hair from her face. “Don’t you quit. You have to stay with me. You hear me? I need you, Sloane.”
Her lips barely moved, her eyelids fluttering way too slow. “Still… here… Go. Finish, this…”
“If I leave, you’ll fade.”
That earned him a genuine smile. “I won’t. Promise.”
“Sloane.”
She lifted her hand, thumbed his cheek, her blood sticky against his skin. “I can’t tell you I love you, if I die… so…”
Her words hit hard, the truth shining in her eyes.
He leaned in, touched his forehead to hers. “That’s why we’re gonna stick together, so catch your breath, we’ll making the last push to the south…”
Footsteps.
Heavy.
Resolute.
He turned, swept his weapon across the roofline, zeroed in on the Reaper as he emerged from the smoke and fog, rain dripping off his hair, a cruel smile twisting his lips. He made a show of tossing his rifle to the side, drawing a massive knife from a thigh holster.
He flipped the blade over in his hand a few times, lips curved at the corners, eyes narrowed. “Empty, but then, so are you.”
Nick pulled the trigger just in case, cursing when the damn thing clicked. He palmed his vest, but half his supplies were missing — likely ripped off when he’d nearly fallen through the roof.
An odd calm washed over him as he removed his own knife, testing the comforting weight of it. He didn’t have the sniper range Dalton or Zain had, and he’d never been that great with explosives, but fighting…
He’d always been able to take a beating and somehow come out on top.
He took a breath, stood, blocking Sloane from view as he stepped forward, blade glinting off the orange flames rising through the roof.
The Reaper tsked. “Hart’s not looking so good, Colter. Thinking I might just cash in on that bonus, after all.”
“Don’t count on it, asshole. She’s tough.”
“Tougher than anticipated. Who knew you’d both be impossible to kill. Though, it looks like your luck just ran out.”
Nick twirled his KA-BAR, adjusted his grip. “Are we gonna fight, or are you just gonna talk dirty to me?”
The Reaper lunged, knife slicing the air in clean, efficient arcs, swirling the smoke in its wake.
Nick faced the threat head-on, metal grinding on metal as their blades clashed, sparks lighting up the darkness.
They traded blows, every strike a well-choreographed display of skill and strength as the roof shuddered and groaned beneath them.
The beams sagged, tilting the platform to the left, every creak threatening to drop them into the raging fire below. Steam seeped up through the cracks, shepherding them off to one side as they each got in a couple lucky strikes.