Chapter Twenty-Four
FOUND
His head throbbed behind his eyes. His mouth felt like cotton, his tongue heavy, his limbs sluggish but responding. Not numb. Just delayed. His stomach rolled once before settling again.
The sensation pulled him back to the state championship game his senior year. He’d taken a helmet square beneath the chin in the third quarter. The world hadn’t gone black. It had simply slowed for a while, every sound arriving a beat late until the dizziness passed.
This felt different.
Chemical instead of concussion.
Whatever they’d used was wearing off.
He opened his eyes to the dull glow of emergency lighting.
Power outage.
The concrete pressed cold against his cheek, carrying the faint damp smell older buildings never quite lost. Underneath it sat something sharper. Bleach. Fresh enough to notice through whatever they’d pumped into his system.
Somewhere beyond the walls, a generator hummed with the steady rhythm of industrial equipment instead of commercial HVAC.
The sound reminded him of an abandoned mill outside Bend they’d searched years ago. Same constant vibration through the floor. Same echo when voices carried down unfinished concrete corridors.
Concrete reflected sound differently than drywall.
Whoever was talking wasn’t far away.
And beyond all that was gunfire.
Gunfire rolled through the concrete like distant thunder.
Boone would be building a perimeter.
Axel…
Axel would be trying to tear one apart.
Whip rolled onto his back before easing himself into a sitting position. His stomach protested the movement, but the room stayed steady. Whatever they’d used was wearing off faster than they’d expected.
It looked more like a forgotten meeting room than anywhere meant to hold people. Beige walls, commercial carpet, a folding table, two stackable chairs, and a heavy security door with reinforced glass.
Amateurs.
He snorted and crossed to the door to test the handle.
Locked.
It wouldn’t matter. He’d gotten out of tighter spots than this.
Keys rattled nearby.
His gaze swept around the room. The folding chair in the corner wasn’t much, but the steel frame would do more damage than his fists since the drug wasn’t yet out of his system.
He picked it up, weighing it once before stepping beside the door where whoever was entering wouldn’t see him immediately.
Keys jangled again.
The lock clicked, and the handle turned.
Whip tightened his grip and waited for the door to swing wide enough.
He swung the chair against the man’s head.
The guy dropped like a stone with a soft thud.
Whip listened for a beat before easing his head around the door jamb. The hallway was empty.
Crouching over the guy, he lifted the gun from his holster, a SIG P320, and took the ring of keys. He lifted the crackling radio from the man’s hip and stepped over the body to enter the hallway.
The hallway lay empty beneath the dim glow of emergency lights, every third fixture dark. Somewhere above him another burst of gunfire echoed through the building.
The stolen radio at his belt crackled.
“…Team Two, report.”
Silence.
“Team Two, report.”
Good.
They were focused somewhere else.
Whip moved. Fast but controlled. The SIG stayed low against his thigh, his eyes sweeping intersections, doorways, and EXIT signs as he passed. He didn’t know where the hallway led yet, but he knew one thing.
Up.
Whatever had happened had started above him, and that was where he’d find Axel…or the men who’d taken him.
“Status on the marshal.”
Charleston’s voice came through the stolen radio. Whip would recognize that smarmy voice anywhere.
Good.
The asshole was still in the building.
“I’m almost there,” another voice answered.
Whip reached the stairwell, climbed, and eased the door open.
A man rounded the corner twenty feet away.
They locked eyes.
The man’s eyes widened as his hand dove for the pistol at his hip.
Whip was already moving.
The SIG barked twice.
The first round caught the man high in the chest. The second spun him into the wall before he collapsed hard onto the carpet.
Silence settled for barely a heartbeat, then the stolen radio crackled.
“All teams, Charleston is en route. South corridor. Nobody deviates from the route. Is that understood?”
So that was the plan.
He stepped over the body and turned left.
It didn’t take him as long as he thought it would to pick up the trail of Charleston and his band of goons.
All he had to do was follow the bodies.
It appeared they were heading towards an exit, like they still thought they had one.
Did they seriously think they were going to just waltz out of the building? As if they hadn’t just abducted a federal marshal?
“Whip.” His name, barely more than a whisper, had him spinning around to find Axel.
“What took you so long?” he rasped.
Axel said nothing else as he stalked closer, like a panther hunting its prey.
He was already moving, and when Axel yanked him into his arms, Whip gripped him hard.
For one second, neither of them moved.
His eyes snagged on a man over Axel’s shoulder.
“Fierce?”
“Whip.”
Whip eased back from Axel and met his gaze. “Should I even ask?” His head tipped toward Fierce.
“He’s here to kill Charleston.”
“Orders from the top?” Whip’s gaze snapped to the assassin.
Fierce tipped his head. “As high as it goes.”
“Then why didn’t Boone get a phone call?” Whip frowned.
“He did. But it came a few minutes after you were abducted.”
“You could have led with that,” Axel grumbled, slinging one arm around his shoulders as if afraid to step away.
“You didn’t give me a chance.”
“Lies.” Axel rolled his eyes, pulled his arm free, and checked the clip on his weapon. “We still need intel from this guy.”
Fierce scowled.
Whip gave a half smile. “So that means no shooting him in the head until we find out locations.”
Fierce sighed long. “You two are a pain in the ass.”
“So we’ve been told,” Whip said.
Enough. They had Charleston to catch.
They moved as one, clearing the corridor with practiced precision.
When boots thundered down the corridor ahead, Whip lifted a hand.
They all stilled.
Knox rounded the corner with Alvarez and half a dozen SWAT operators at his back.
Whip lowered his weapon.
Knox’s shoulders visibly relaxed.
“There you are.” He glared at Whip. “You know, normal people just use the front door.”
Whip smiled. “Missed you too.”
Knox rolled his eyes.
“Charleston?” Whip asked.
“Running,” Knox answered. “A source said Cutter’s with him.”
Alvarez spoke into his radio. “Command, Team Three has Marshal Tauber. Repeat, Marshal Tauber has been recovered. Charleston and Cutter are still mobile. Moving to intercept.”
Knox glanced at Whip. “You good?”
Whip looked at Axel before chambering a fresh round.
“Let’s finish this.”
They turned as one and disappeared deeper into the underground maze.
Nobody noticed when Fierce slipped away.