Chapter Thirty-One
“You know they’ll find us,” Dave said it flat, watching the man he’d thought was Titus.
The man shoved him for the effort. Pain lanced along Dave’s jaw from the hit earlier.
He should’ve seen it coming. He hadn’t. Tatum had sucker punched him in his face next to the horse corral and wrenched the weapon from his grip. Dave had gotten in a few good licks, but it hadn’t made a difference to the outcome.
He was still here, walking through the desert with Tatum pointing his own gun at his back.
Tatum had made the switch in Vegas.
“Shut the fuck up and keep moving,” Tatum snarled.
“What did you do to your brother?” Dave asked, voice tight.
Usually, that question earned a shove and a snarl. This time, Tatum answered.
“He’s fucking dead, okay? I shot him. Happy now that you know, because I sure the fuck am.” Tatum shoved him so hard, Dave dropped to his knees.
He tried to catch himself, but the rope bit his wrists—Tatum had found a coil hanging on the side of the building—and his arms gave out. Rock and grit scraped his cheek when his face hit the dirt.
“Why shoot Titus? He’s not the one who killed Tanis.” Dave hauled himself up onto his knees, jaw burning.
“Because he tried to kill him,” Tatum spat, leaning in so close that Dave could smell the sour on his breath. “Just because he failed and someone else did it doesn’t make him innocent.”
“So, what now?” Dave asked.
“I’m going to find out who inside Genesis killed Tanis.”
“They’ll never give that up.”
“I don’t know who the hell you are, but shut the fuck up.” Tatum jerked him to his feet.
Dave kept his head down and walked, stunned, mind racing. Tatum had no idea who he’d just strapped a rope around.
Tatum didn’t know Dave led a group of killers that could rise out of the dust and tear a man apart in broad daylight.
Let him stay blind.
“So, what are you going to do with me?” Dave asked.
“Trade you for Viper—the leader of that rabble you call Genesis.”
“You think you’re marching into that ranch and coming out with him?” Dave scoffed. “First, you have to get out of this desert.”
Tatum’s grin was half pride, half madness. “I’ve got a locator embedded. My men are camped about another mile out.” He wiped dirt from his lip and waited.
Normally, they scanned for those before they brought them to the ranch, but because they’d thought they had Titus…they didn’t.
When Dave didn’t answer, Tatum jerked his chin to keep walking.
He dragged his feet, favoring his knee even though it wasn’t hurt. Tatum wouldn’t know the difference.
He slowed his steps just enough to make it look real.
If he could catch the bastard off guard, he might be able to double back the way they’d come. Tatum was underestimating him—probably because of his age. But Dave sure as hell wasn’t a damsel in distress.
He didn’t need to strike yet. The low thrum in the distance told him what he needed to know.
A Blackhawk. His Blackhawk.
Genesis knew they were gone.
Which meant only one thing—
Stone was coming.
Stone spotted the trucks and the ring of tents out past the scrub. “Veer off.” He pointed north; the pilot banked the bird and peeled away.
“It looks like Tatum brought help.” Viper lowered his glasses, eyes narrowing at the horizon.
“Did you talk to Titus?” Stone asked.
“I did.” Viper’s jaw tightened.
“And you’re sure it was Titus?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” Viper swallowed, the remembered warmth of Titus’s voice still sat in his chest. Relief had hit him hard when Titus said he’d live—made him go lightheaded in a way he hadn’t expected. “I told Beckman to get him to Dave’s estate to lay low. Ace will take it from there.”
Stone nodded once, thumb finding the edge of his earpiece. “Real, you copy?”
There was only crackling silence.
“Real?” Stone growled.
“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. SecDef Caldwell arrived.”
“Tell him to get a team in the air—Tatum brought reinforcements.” He rattled off coordinates into the mic.
“On it,” Real answered. “He says we’ll be on your six in about eleven minutes.”
Stone turned to the pilot. “Wrap back around, come up from the west, put us down.” He then looked back at Viper. “We might be able to get Dave and Tatum before they reach the camp.”
Law’s voice cut in like a thrown knife. “If they haven’t already.”
“If they have, we take the camp.” Stone angled his face into the wind, the lenses catching the dusty terrain below. He let the words hang, a promise and a plan, watching men move like ants in the distance.
“There!” Boston shouted over the chop of the rotors.
Stone unclipped and slid to the open side, following the arc of Boston’s finger until his eyes locked on two figures a mile out.
Dave—jeans, boots, that wool pullover Stone had bought him last Christmas; the blue of it picked out the blue in Dave’s eyes. The other man moved beside him, big and quick.
The pilot read him, and the bird eased back, staying out of the kill zone.
“Get us about one and a half klicks from their location,” Stone told him. The pilot dipped the nose and bled off speed; tumbleweeds skittered under the downwash as the skids kissed the dirt. Dust and grit whipped past, stinging Stone’s face.
They hit the ground in a storm of flying rocks. Stone dropped to the soil, boots finding purchase. Rifles came free from racks, grenades tucked into vests—everything the Blackhawk carried and whatever had been grabbed before they left.
Law tossed him an M16. Stone checked the mag with two practiced snaps, thumb over the bolt, then pressed his earpiece. “Keep sweeping ahead of us,” he told the pilot and started into the heat.
The men fanned out behind him like a single living thing
Genesis to his left, YA on his right, they moved with the kind of quiet formation that meant only one thing—they were a force Tatum’s hired guns wouldn’t survive.
Stone’s jaw set.
He let the desert take him—the sun, the grit, the distance between them and Dave—and kept walking until he closed that space with intent.
“You think we’ll find him?” Stone heard Sage whisper to Law while tossing him darting glances.
“He won’t rest until he gets Dave back,” Law assured the young man.
Sage gazed at Viper as if for agreement.
“They’ll always find each other. They’re like…gravity,” Viper said gruffly, his voice tight.
Stone caught the words and started running.
Gravity.
That’s what it was.
No matter the distance or the dust between them, Stone moved the only way he knew how—toward Dave.