Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sloane slumped against the pillows, the headboard and railings the only reason she hadn’t toppled out of the bed, landed face down on the floor.
A cold, heavy weight suffocated her, the room nothing but a blurry wash of gray on gray.
She inhaled, the shallow breath like a jagged needle in her side that burned all the way down to her toes.
The HVAC hummed in the distance, the only source of power still firing. A heady mix of disinfectant and industrial adhesive filled the air, clogging her throat.
Nick grabbed the nurse — hid her limp body behind the monitor stack, muttering something about not seeing through her sooner, moving Sloane before Hill had regrouped.
Though, judging on the fogginess clouding her head and the pressure constricting her chest, she hadn’t been stable enough to risk a transfer.
Nick shouldered up beside her, leaned in. “You okay?”
She coughed, damn near passed out as pain sliced through her ribs, dimming the room to a pinhole of distorted shapes. “I’m breathing.”
He winced. “You want a weapon, or would that be an epic mistake?”
“Can’t back you up with just my quick wit.”
He pressed a cold, heavy weight into her hand. “Not your Sig, but it’ll do in a pinch. And that’s all you’re to use it on. Life and death only.”
Sloane cocked her head to the side. “Every part of this is a life or death only scenario.”
“I was reminding you to leave the heavy lifting to me. Brawn, remember?”
“I—”
Movement at the door.
No heavy breathing, no clatter of gear, just a massive shadow filling the doorway.
She raised the weapon, muzzle dancing as if she’d gotten hit with an electrical current, her finger slipping off the small safety as she lined up the silhouette melting into the shadows, suppressed barrel leading the way.
Nick grabbed her hand, redirected it. “Easy, sweetheart, it’s Dalton.”
Dalton flowed over to the bed, his large form fading in and out of the darkness. He stopped next to Nick, the man’s gaze drinking everything in. “Had to abandon the coffee when I ran into Hill’s wet squad. They’re leapfrogging the rooms from the south stairwell. We’ve got two minutes, tops.”
“Main wing?”
“Hard-locked with jammers blocking a callout. They triggered the fire panel override — sealed all the suppression doors. They’ve also got the elevators pinned and the main stairwell’s a kill zone.”
Nick nodded, checking his Sig. “Exfil options?”
“One. There’s a service lift that leads to a loading dock. Only way we’re getting down three flights without jumping out a window.”
“Understood.” Nick scooped his arms under her legs and around her back. “This isn’t going to be fun.”
He lifted, the sudden shift on her ribs like a concussive hit.
Pain ricocheted through her chest, stealing her next breath as he eased her onto the chair, clipped the belt around her waist. “So you don’t slip out.
Tap my hand if you’re really fading. And don’t shoot unless you have to because the recoil… ”
Would likely drop her.
He didn’t say it. Didn’t need to with the amount of dots clouding her vision.
Dalton took point, staying a pace ahead, a silent sentry shifting through the dark like a wraith.
Nick followed, hovering around her like a shield.
One wheel on the chair skittered against the linoleum, the telltale squeak like a beacon to anyone within a hundred yards, until he kicked it, got it spinning.
They slipped into the main hallway, hushed scuffs sounding somewhere off to their right.
A few scattered emergency lights still glowed down the hallway, the connections likely on a different circuit.
Dalton steered them left, sidestepped down to the next junction, then veered right.
Fingers of plastic sheeting hung from the ceiling like ghostly shrouds, the ends fluttering from the swirl of air through the vents.
They slalomed through them, the slick material brushing across her face, distorting her vision into a series of strobe-like glimpses — Nick’s massive shoulders looming over her.
Dalton appearing and disappearing amidst the shadows.
Something moved ahead of them, slowly sliding through the plastic maze. Dalton held up his fist, pointed to the figure, then flicked on a small mag light, his weapon tracking the motion. A gurney ticked across the hallway, softly bumping into the far wall with a dull thud.
He killed the light, pushed through, bypassing the stretcher, then into an open section. Pieces of drywall hung off the wall, a layer of dust coating the linoleum. Thick cables snaked across the floor, a lone window brightening the space at the end of the hallway.
Nick bumped her across the lines, each jolt igniting the fire in her ribs. She clenched her teeth, tried to shove it down, everything dissolving into the frantic thrash of her heart, the hollow rasp of each breath.
She reached up, intent on tapping Nick’s hand, anything to stop the wave of heat drawing her under, when some asshole in tactical gear stepped through the plastic, night vision covering his eyes, rifle at a low ready.
Dalton reacted before she’d even processed the scene, lunging forward as he knocked the muzzle to the right, grabbed the guy around the throat.
A blast of suppressed rounds ate up the drywall, dropping a section to the floor with a loud clap.
The two men hit some open framing, broke through before crashing to the floor on the other side.
Nick whistled, and Dalton rolled, served the other guy up as an offering as Nick pulled the trigger, dropped the asshole with a single shot.
Dalton shoved him off, then scrambled to his feet, urging them on at a fast pace. Creaks and taps sounded behind them, more men quickly closing in.
Nick paused once they’d traversed a couple corridors, bending down to her level. Lips pursed tight, eyes narrowed, he looked as if he’d felt every ripple of pain through her side since they’d left her room. “Sweetheart? You still with us?”
She gazed up at him, loving the way his hair teased his eyes, aware she could stare at him forever and never get tired.
Nick frowned, crouched lower, Dalton moving to guard their six. “Sloane, talk to me.”
“I…” Her throat constricted around the words, all her strength fading into the pull of her stitches, what felt like a hint of something wet on her side. She pushed out a slow breath, a hushed whimper clawing free as she closed her eyes, let the darkness claim her.
“Shit. Dalton.”
Nick caught Sloane as she pitched forward, the belt keeping her from slipping out of the chair.
He pulled her close, freed the damn buckle, then hoisted her onto his shoulder fireman-style, careful not to compress her injured side.
Heat radiated off her skin and into his, the cold reality of their situation hitting home.
If he miscalculated, chose poorly, she’d pay the ultimate price. And that was the only math that mattered.
Dalton had his fingers on her neck as he checked her wound. “Pulse is steady, but she’s pulled out a couple stitches, has some minor bleeding. But nothing life threatening, yet.”
Nick hissed out a curse. “She can’t afford to lose anymore. We need to move.”
“You sure you’re strong enough to carry her? She’s not the only one still recovering.”
“I’m good, just…”
Dalton nodded. He knew the score — fastest route, least amount of resistance, and Dalton would have to take the brunt of the fight.
His buddy picked up the pace, moving with an easy efficiency that brought back Nick’s Delta days. Endless infiltrations through enemy strongholds. How they needed that training if they had any hope of getting out alive.
They hit another corner, turned left, the service elevator staring back at them on the far wall, the doors a swath of gray amidst the black. Dalton took two steps, stopped. The floor ended three feet ahead, nothing but narrow steel beams bridging the twenty-foot gap.
His buddy moved to the edge, shined the light down to the lower lever, highlighted the twelve feet of dead air between the girder and the floor. He glanced back at Nick, then started across, still sweeping the area with his weapon.
They made it halfway when a shadow moved past the window on the adjoining wall, a face appearing a breath later. Nick fired, punched three holes in the window, hoping to buy some time as he raced across the beam, nearly tripping a couple times when Sloane twitched.
Dalton didn’t follow. Instead, he took off, jumping across the parallel beams like gravity didn’t apply to him, then covered the open room at a full sprint. He reached the window and continued right through, grabbing the frame, then launching his boots through the scored glass.
It shattered, raining down razor-like shards, the entire frame groaning beneath the strain. Dalton hit something just beyond the glass, sent it flying backwards with a strangled yelp as he flew through, landed on what must have been scaffolding.
Gunfire erupted all around him, sparks lighting up the dark as the bullets glinted off the metal framing. Dalton returned several rounds, then vaulted back inside, landing amidst the broken glass.
The shards crunched beneath his boots as he ran over, grabbed Nick’s elbow, then hauled ass down the remaining hallway toward the service elevator.
They reached the freight lift — a manual, gear-driven monster used for hauling supplies.
The doors sat halfway between floors, the hand-driven winch locked in place.
Nick eased Sloane against a stack of gypsum boards as Dalton covered their six, rifle shouldered, the man’s gaze tracking every direction at once.
Nick tried the manual release, swore he’d popped a blood vessel trying to wrench it open before he darted over to a toolbox — grabbed an oversized wrench.
He shoved the metal bar into the wheel, used the lever to rotate the emergency lock into the open position.
The wheel stalled, clinging to the rusted surface before finally slipping.
The gears screamed as the lock shifted, the echoing screech grating on Nick’s last nerve.
Dalton tensed but didn’t comment, rifle still zeroed in on their six.
The wheel ground out a few rotations, the door finally inching apart. Nick kept turning, mentally counting the seconds in his head. Praying this wasn’t a repeat of the annex — that Sloane wasn’t slowly bleeding out.
He got the doors wide enough to push through when a tactical light flooded the hallway from the broken window. Dalton shifted, finger caressing the trigger, breath evening out, when he grunted, lowered his weapon.
Bodie emerged through the shadows, Buck trailing behind, their carbines sweeping the room. They jogged over, taking up defensive positions on either side.
Buck shook his head. “I gotta say. The lighthouse seemed like a cakewalk compared to this.”
Nick grunted. “More firepower would be nice. Don’t suppose you brought enough for the class?”
“Sorry, brother. Bodie only had two in the back of his truck. And you’ve already got your hands full. But we’ve got your six.”
“Not exactly the answer I was hoping for.”
“Beggars and all that.” Buck gestured to the lift. “According to the hospital logs, there’s an ambulance parked in the rear loading bay. We should move before Hill finds it.”
Some of the weight lifted off Nick’s shoulders as he gathered Sloane in his arms, allowed Bodie and Dalton to help him squeeze her through the doors. He settled inside, Dalton stepping in last when men appeared at the far end, carbines already spitting out rounds.
Nick’s teammates shifted to the sides, bullets chewing up the rear wall of the lift as Dalton worked the crank like it was a mission from God.
The elevator descended in measured segments, each drop accompanied by a rattling clang.
Bodie and Buck exchanged cover fire, cycling through one mag, then loading another, stalling the team long enough to drop to the next level before they reached the shaft.
Buck took over, the elevator jerking down through the next floor, landing at the bottom with a solid thump.
Bodie pried the doors open a bit more, cleared the immediate platform, then took point as the rest of the crew filed out.
They cleared the small staging area, ventured into the hallway, the loading dock exit looming in front of them, when Dalton’s cell chirped, the low ping making Nick’s insides jump.
Dalton frowned, grabbed his phone. “Looks like we’re beyond Hill’s containment bubble.
” He scrolled through the text. “Well, crap. Avery just texted. Said Hill issued a statement on the federal emergency channel. Is claiming we’re the ones behind the assault.
That he’s authorized a hard containment team to intercept.
She’s working on an arrest warrant from all the files Kessler shared, but she’s waiting on approval from a judge. ”
Nick banged his fist on his thigh, embracing the sharp sting. “Tell her I appreciate the hard work but...” He tapped his chest. “I’ll take care of Hill.”
Dalton arched a brow, typed off a reply before they moved into a loose diamond formation. Nick juggled Sloane into his arms, aware it limited his options, but more concerned she’d suffer some kind of aneurism if her head hung down much longer.
They hit the loading bay doors moving in sync, Bodie flowing through first as Dalton brought up the rear.
The rolling door sat halfway down from the ceiling, the cold, midnight air clouding their breath around their heads.
A light drizzle fell from the sky, the scattered puddles reflecting the storm clouds rolling overhead.
An ambulance sat on a forty-five, ten feet off to their right, their one Hail Mary in a desperate situation.
Bodie motioned to the rear doors. “Nick, you and Dalton get Sloane settled in the back. I’ll crank open the doors, then hop in front.
Nick veered right, each step closing in on their salvation when a laser light hit the wall behind him, quickly shifting onto Sloane’s head. Nick froze, chest heaving, his world narrowed to that small, vibrating point of red light locked on the woman he was dying to save.