Chapter 28
Dozer
The service entrance holds for exactly as long as Hack's loop lasts, which is long enough to get all five of us inside before the first alarm confirms somebody notices the gap in coverage anyway.
So much for subtle.
"They're onto us," Ghost says, already moving, weapon up. "Fast breach, no time to be pretty about it."
I don't need him to tell me twice. This isn't a job for patience anymore.
Whoever Cole has running security here has been briefed to expect exactly this eventuality, which means we have minutes, not hours, before they start destroying whatever remains of the physical evidence sitting somewhere deeper inside this building.
Evidence we've lost men protecting, and that Kenzi nearly died getting here. I'm not leaving without it. "Kenzi, stay behind me."
She does without argument. She knows when to listen and when to remind me that she can take care of herself. She’s not stupid and follows exactly what I tell her. The quiet scrape of her boots trail behind mine, close and steady, her laptop bag secured tight against her body.
I don't look back to make sure she's there. I know she is. I can feel her and the trust between us tells me she’s there. I don’t have to check.
The first hostiles come around the corner near the main lobby.
There’s four of them with professional spacing and weapons already drawn.
Their movements are coordinated. These are not the local muscle from the rail yard.
These are the real thing, the private contractors Ruby flagged.
Trained, funded, disciplined, and apparently willing to kill for a sitting senator who's spent years making inconvenient people disappear. But, are they special operator trained? Are they one of us? We’ll find out soon.
Ghost sees the same thing I do. "Left."
"Got it."
We split without another word. Years of working together means there isn't much else to say. Ghost moves left as I cut right, both of us collapsing the distance before the men can fully adjust to the fact that we're not doing what they expected us to do.
I take the first one fast. Second one gets closer.
Too close. I redirect his weapon, drive him into the wall, put him down hard enough that he stays there.
No wasted motion. No anger. That's something people misunderstand about violence.
The best operators don't fight angry. Anger costs time.
Anger makes people sloppy. I don't need to hate the man in front of me. I just need him to stop being a threat.
"Clear," Ghost says.
Then a fifth man comes out of a side hallway I haven't cleared. I see him half a second too late. His strike catches me across the ribs. Hard. Air leaves my lungs completely, pain detonating along my side, and something gives beneath the impact with a sharp internal crack I feel more than hear.
That's going to be a problem.
A problem for later.
I drive forward anyway. He expects pain to slow me down. Most people do. That's their mistake. I put him down before my lungs remember how to work properly, straighten, and force air back into them one controlled breath at a time.
Behind me, Kenzi says my name. "Dozer."
"I'm good."
"That sounded suspiciously like something breaking."
"Probably him."
There's half a beat of silence. "That was almost funny."
"Move."
"Definitely funny."
Even now. Even here. She manages to put warmth into a place that has none. I hate how much I need that.
We move.
"Dozer, status," Hunter says over comms, his voice tight. He's running the operation from two blocks out, which means he's seeing enough through Ruby and Hack to know something went wrong without seeing exactly what.
"Hit. Still moving. Continuing to the lab."
"Copy. Ghost, Ruby's got eyes on two more teams converging from the east stairwell."
"On it."
Ghost peels off before the second team can flank us.
I keep moving. Kenzi stays close behind me as we cut through a corridor lined with display cases full of preserved specimens, decades of medical history watching silently while we run toward the one piece of history somebody is still actively trying to erase.
My ribs hurt every time I breathe. I adjust. Pain is information. At least that's what I tell myself until two more hostiles hit us near the lab's outer door.
The first one comes straight at Kenzi.
Everything inside me changes.
I don't think. That's the part that should bother me later. I don't assess distance or risk or whether there's a smarter angle. I step directly into his path and take the strike meant for her across my shoulder. White heat tears down my arm. I finish him anyway.
The second man's weapon clears before I can close the distance.
One shot. I hear it. Then I feel it. High in my side.
Not the graze from the rail yard. Not even close.
Heat punches through me, followed by pressure, then the kind of deep pain that tells a man exactly how bad something is before he looks. My body knows before my brain does.
This one's real.
I close the distance anyway. Put him down. Then the wall catches me. Or I catch the wall. Doesn't matter. I give myself one breath against it. One. Because that's all I can afford.
Kenzi's hand lands on my arm. "Dozer."
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not." Her voice changes. I've heard every version of Kenzi by now. Teasing. Working. Angry. Grieving. Terrified and pretending she isn't. Soft enough to tell me things she hasn't told anyone else. This is different. This is raw terror.
She looks down. I follow her eyes. Blood is already spreading through my shirt. Too fast.
"Dozer, you're bleeding. Badly. We need to—"
"Later." My voice comes out rough.
She looks at me. "That's not a later wound."
"Lab's through that door."
"I know where the lab is."
"We don't have later if we stop now."
Her fingers tighten around my arm. For half a second, we're back in that van before dawn.
There's an after.
I promised her.
I don't say things I don't believe. Problem is, right now, I'm not entirely sure my body got the briefing.
"Kenzi." Her eyes meet mine. There's fear there. Real fear, she’s scared for me and I hate seeing it.
I also feel something dangerously close to peace knowing somebody would be afraid to lose me.
That's new. Most of my adult life has been built around making sure nobody had enough of me for my absence to hurt.
Then Kenzi walked into it. Apparently, she didn't get the memo.
I cover her hand with mine. Just for a second. Her fingers are warm against my skin. Steady, despite the fear in her eyes.
"Trust me."
She swallows. "I do."
Two words. That's all. It’s enough.
She looks at the wound again, and I can practically see the forensic calculations running behind her eyes as she assesses the blood volume loss, trajectory of the bullet and how long I've got before I absolutely need medical intervention.
Then she makes the call. Not to stop. To trust me exactly as far as I'm asking to be trusted.
"Then we move," she says.
I nod. Her hand slides from my arm into mine for one brief second. She squeezes. Hard. A promise or a warning. Probably both. Then she reaches for the lab door.
I move in front of her. Of course I do.
She makes an aggravated sound behind me. "Seriously?"
"Stay behind me."
"You have a bullet in you."
"Still bigger than you."
"That is not how bullet wounds work."
I almost smile. Almost. Then the pain spikes and takes care of that.
I put my shoulder into the lab door. It gives. Inside, two more men are already at the evidence storage unit. One has his hand on something that looks distinctly like an incendiary device. The other reaches for his weapon the second the door opens.
Three seconds. Maybe less. That's all it would take.
Three seconds to burn the evidence. Three seconds to erase patients who trusted people they shouldn't have.
Three seconds to make Reyes's death mean less than it should.
Three seconds to take away the truth Kenzi has fought this entire way to give back to people who deserve it.
Not happening.
I move. The world narrows. Pain disappears beneath training. I hit the nearest threat before he can finish what he's doing, drive him away from the storage unit, and hear something crash behind me.
The second man turns. Toward Kenzi.
No.
Something cold takes over. I intercept him. My body protests hard enough that my vision whites out for half a second, but half a second is survivable. Her dying isn't.
I hear Kenzi behind me, sharp and urgent, already at the storage unit. "I'm in."
Good.
"Evidence is intact. Dozer, I need thirty seconds."
Thirty seconds. Might as well be thirty minutes.
"Take them."
"That wasn't permission for you to die."
"I'm not dying."
"You better not, you made me a promise."
I hear keys moving fast. Her voice changes as she starts talking to Ruby through comms, the forensic specialist taking over even while the woman underneath it is scared. That's Kenzi. Fear doesn't make her less competent. It makes her more determined.
Maybe that's one of the reasons I fell for her. The realization lands with terrible timing. Of course it does. Apparently getting shot is what it takes for me to finally stop pretending I don't know what this is.
I love her.
Simple as that. No tactical analysis required. I love the woman behind me who talks to computers, dead bodies, cats, herself, and me with approximately equal enthusiasm. I love the woman who notices everything and looked at all the parts of me I'd spent years making invisible.
And if I get out of this room, I'm going to tell her.
Not if.
When.
There's an after. I promised her one.
Behind me, Kenzi says, "Upload starting."
I plant myself between her and the door. Blood runs warm beneath my gear. My vision narrows again. I stay standing.
"Go," I manage through the pain. "I've got this. Go."
She goes. Of course she does. Because she trusts me to hold the line. And I trust her to make holding it matter.
That's what we've become. Not protector and protected. Not operator and consultant. Two people covering the part the other can't.
The upload ticks forward behind me. Somewhere beyond the lab, boots pound against the corridor floor. More are coming.
I adjust my grip. Breathe through the pain. Stay upright.
Because I made Kenzi a promise before we walked into this building.
There is an after.
And I'm going to fight like hell to get us there.