Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Trapped.
If he moved, Sloane took the hit. If he surrendered…
Nick took a moment to breathe, to shove down everything but the one, unerring reality — Sloane needed to live.
If he curled his shoulder, dropped, his body mass might be enough to keep her from getting hit.
Give his buddies time to react — pull her free.
He likely wouldn’t live to recount the story, but she would.
And that’s all that mattered.
The dot hovered over her head, dropping to her heart as Nick drew a breath, counted it down in his head.
Movement.
Charging out from the shadows. Nothing more than a blur in the darkened bay. Nick inhaled as Dalton slammed into him running full out, the man’s momentum carrying them all across the floor and behind the ambulance’s rear tires.
A sharp crack split the air, the supersonic round ending in a dull thump. Dalton grunted, hit the pavement, only to bounce up, weapon still tracking the shadows, his face a mask of professional rage.
Blood blossomed on his left shoulder, high enough it likely hadn’t hit anything life-threatening, but definitely hard enough to slow him down. Maybe numb that arm to the point he’d have to let it hang by his side.
His buddy shifted the weapon to his other hand, looking just as lethal with his Sig palmed in his right hand before his leaned against the ambulance door, blood smearing across the metal behind him.
Nick grabbed Dalton’s shirt, yanked him back enough to open the rear doors, shove him inside. “You’re insane, you know that?”
Dalton snorted. “Beats your plan, which essentially had you sacrificing yourself because there was no way you were getting clear before that asshole pulled the trigger.”
“Right and you taking one to the shoulder—”
“Will heal. Shot through the head or the heart, a lot harder to come back from, brother.”
Nick smiled his thanks as Bodie and Buck lit up the bay, muzzles flashing in the dark, rounds chewing up the pavement in front of the rolling door before switching to the mezzanine where the sniper had been nesting.
Buck tossed a smoke grenade, the canister bouncing across the interior before detonating, a blinding plume of blue smoke swirling into the air.
The sniper fired off a few more rounds, missed anything of value, as Nick’s teammates raced across the bay, jumped into the front of the ambulance.
Bodie had the cowling off, the wires stripped in record time, Buck kept any interested parties at arm’s length with strategic trigger pulls.
Sparks jumped between the metal cables, the engine turning over with a rough bark.
It chugged a couple times, coughing and spitting before evening out, the steady growl sounding like an angry dog.
Bodie floored it, peeled out of the bay in a cloud of burning rubber. The vehicle fishtailed on the rain-slick concrete, skidding out the open door, the top just squeaking under the lip, then into the night. Rain needled off the windshield, fog threading through the surrounding forests.
The tires squealed, spinning a few times before the rubber caught, surging them forward.
They flew up the entrance ramp, thick concrete walls rising on each side.
They got halfway up when twin high beams cut through the night, the large circular lights setting them off in harsh relief.
An oversized, black SUV idled at the top, double spike strips covering the open pavement on either side.
What would cripple the ambulance before they’d gotten a hundred feet past the roadblock.
Bodie slammed on the breaks, pitching everyone forward, as the tires squealed, more smoke burning off the asphalt. The vehicle creaked, the wheels struggling to hold the ambulance steady on the steep incline.
Nick moved between the front two seats, stared out the windshield. A couple armed men flanked the vehicle on either side, looking more than eager to fire.
Bodie clenched his fingers around the steering wheel, looking as if he wanted to throw caution to the wind — punch right through.
Instead, he glanced at Nick across his shoulder, mouth pinched tight, slashes of red across his cheeks.
“As much as I want to ram that fucker… All I’ll do is crumple the front end, maybe stall the engine.
And some cover is better than none right now. ”
The rear door on the SUV opened, a man’s trim form stepping out. The guy lacked the tactical attire the rest of the operatives wore, sporting a tailored suit and overcoat.
He walked around to the grill, his silhouette burned into black by the blinding lights. “Hey, Colter. I know you’re in there. Come out. Let’s settle this like professionals.”
Nick looked at Sloane wedged on the floor in the back.
What Dalton had deemed the safest spot, virtually impossible for a sniper to get off a kill shot.
She’d roused as soon as they’d climbed aboard.
Not fully conscious but aware, her gorgeous eyes tracking his every move.
What little color she’d regained had vanished, her pale complexion tugging at his heart.
He smiled, mouthed that he loved her, then palmed the handle. “Bodie, keep the engine running. Buck, watch for flanking operatives, and Dalton… keep Sloane safe. I’m ending this.”
Bodie grabbed Nick’s wrist, held firm. “He’s baiting you.”
“I know, but he’s made one crucial mistake. He thinks I’m alone in this.” He opened the door, stepped out. “That’ll be his undoing.”
Nick shuffled sideways, Sig holstered. Present but what Hill would initially dismiss as a non-lethal threat. Nick left the door ajar, walking confidently toward the front of the ambulance. He kept Bodie’s sightline open, stopping next to the front bumper. “Hill.”
Deputy Director Cyrus Hill shifted until the headlights cut a swath across the right side of his face. The bastard grinned, looking like a man who’d done the hard math and found the one line he could pencil out. “You always had a flair for the dramatic, Colter. I’ll grant you that much.”
“I’m not the one flanked by an entire shadow squad.”
“You were the best we ever had. That level of competence demands respect. Which is why we’re in this mess.
Prague was supposed to be a clean closure.
A liability removed during a volatile mission.
But in true Colter fashion, you beat the odds, turned the whole bloody mess into a career-ending problem. ”
Nick shifted, measuring up the men on Hill’s flanks, gauging which he’d have to take out first to have any chance at getting to Hill.
“Did you seriously just call a man’s life a logistics error?
An inconvenience that, god forbid, required you to get your hands a little dirty?
Kessler’s a person, not a line item you can cross off. ”
“Kessler’s a catastrophe. A roadblock that needs to be bombed. And your unorthodox refusal to just let the man die — to follow silent protocol — has cost the agency billions.”
“You arranged the man’s murder because he knew about your offshore accounts. That you’re moving weapons on the black market. That’s not the ‘Agency’s business’. That’s a coverup.”
“Call it whatever you want. It doesn’t change anything.”
Nick shifted, again, a low whop mixing in with the hum of the engines, the patter of the rain against the blacktop. “Answer me this. If you wanted Kessler dead so bad, why send me when you know I’m always willing to go to extremes?”
Hill chuckled. “I think you know exactly why I sent you and Hart.”
The truth hit Nick full force, and he tripped back a step. “The sniper. It was never for Kessler. It was for me and Sloane.”
“Even if I’d kept you out of Prague, sooner or later, you would have stumbled into one of my dealings. You’re both too skilled to keep out of the fray. Two birds, as they say.”
“The sniper — that was the Reaper, too. It’s why he took the contract, travelled here. He owed you for failing, because he never fails.”
“He would have eliminated you if Sloane wasn’t as deadly with a rifle as she is with a keyboard. Which brings us to this moment. I want Kessler.”
Nick shrugged. “I don’t have him.”
“Not here, but you definitely have him tucked away with one of your new teammates. I have to say, your extended family’s impressive.
But not impressive enough to save you, so here’s what we’re going to do.
I’m going to take Sloane with me, and you’re going to hustle back to wherever you stashed the little shit and pack up him and his files.
Then, in exactly two hours, I’ll call you, tell you where we’ll make the exchange. ”
Nick nodded along, that low growl growing closer. What he hoped was another damn Hail Mary in the making. “If I let you take Sloane, she’s dead.”
“She’s dead either way, Colter. She was the moment you brought her into this. The question is how much do you want her to suffer before that happens? Because I can do a lot of damage in two hours.”
Nick looked over his shoulder. Sloane had crawled between the seats, her eyes tracking his. She lifted her hand, grabbed something on the overhead console. He shifted his gaze to Bodie. His buddy twirled his fingers, then held up a single one.
Nick nodded, turned back, glancing at the puddles, how the surface rippled every few moments from a heavy vibration. The same one he felt deep in his chest.
He flexed his hand, faced Hill. “After careful consideration, I’m going to have to pass. But if you’d like to surrender, I’m all-in.”
Hill’s cockiness faded, his hands balling into fists at his side. “Fine, we’ll do it the bloody way.” He motioned to the men at his side. “Gentlemen—”
Light.