Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The growl of the inbound engines carried across the ridge, those headlights quickly closing in, as Scout headed for the tree line, the dense, dark timber standing like monoliths against the cloud-bruised sky.
Quinn followed, Brea on his heels as Scout quickstepped along the shadowed path, every root and rock threatening to drop her.
Cold mountain air misted through the trees, the heat from the explosions creating a dense layer of fog that curled down the ridge, quickly cloaking the landscape in a thick gray cloud. Crushed granite and sulfur carried on the slight breeze, the scent a constant reminder of what they’d left behind.
Scout slowed as they drew closer to where they’d left the vehicles, Quinn’s ragged breathing tightening her chest. She wasn’t sure how he was still moving, let alone jogging along the trail, Sig at the ready, constantly scanning the area, keeping Brea close.
Scout made a mental note to show him exactly how impressed she was later, flicking off the low light as she neared the adjoining gravel road. Voices sounded from beyond the trees, more beams shining through the foliage.
Raising her fist, she crouched just back from the edge of the road, heart pounding, dread settling unforgivingly in her stomach.
Eight men.
All heavily armed.
Black tactical gear with comms units and HELIOS watches. Proof they weren’t SAR or curious hikers.
Quinn knelt behind her, Neve crawling up to her left side.
The forest fell into an eerie silence, as if even the crickets realized the inherent danger.
Scout glanced at their vehicles. They’d parked at the end of the spur, both facing down the logging road in case they needed a quick exit, and hidden beneath a heavy camo net.
What they’d hoped would conceal them from drones or any sentries looking down from the ridge.
Up close like this…
Neve’s jaw muscle jumped as she made a few hand signals, the rest of the team fanning out around them, rifles ready, any hint of fatigue buried beneath steel, cold determination. They waited, watching the men huddle around the two black SUVs, as their lead guy walked over to Coulter’s Gladiator.
He tore off the camo net from the front end, peering inside before doing the same to their SUV, twirling his finger in the air, pointing at the engine blocks.
One of his buddies cycled his rifle, the click-clack cutting through the settling dust as he stared at the truck, slowly lifting his weapon to his shoulder.
No time for discussion. Scout simply grabbed the nine-bang flash bang off her vest — the only one Gus had managed to procure — pulled the tab, letting it cook for a few seconds before lobbing it into the fray.
It kicked off the gravel, rolling several feet, coming to a stop in the middle of the men’s lopsided circle a heartbeat later.
The mercs scattered, booking it for the tree line, but the extra distance didn’t help as the magnesium flash ignited, burning the night into stark, white-hot daylight for one agonizing second, before the first concussive thump pounded through Scout’s chest, stealing her breath as an ear-piercing shrill rang through the air.
Shouts erupted along the road, each consecutive charge seemingly louder than the last, crumpling the men in a matter of seconds.
They disappeared into the smoky fog, the odd boot poking up through the vapor.
The last bang lingered, rattling through Scout’s chest, the high-pitched wail still sounding in her head.
She gripped her rifle, blinking back the fuzziness as she and Neve burst out from the underbrush, the rest of her team tight on her six.
Smoke choked the clearing, the headlights burning the cloud into a glowing white mass, cloaking the downed men in that annoyingly bright mist. A flash of movement flickered in her peripheral vision.
One of the mercs rose from behind the second SUV, what had likely shielded him from the worst of the effects, gaze not quite focused, but his rifle at the ready.
Two trigger pulls, and he dropped, the recoil slamming into Scout’s shoulder. She held her position, continuously searching the glaring smoke for any other movement, butting one asshole in the head with her rifle when he groaned, pushed onto his elbows.
Behind her, the truck roared to life, Neve, Wynn, and Zadie untangling the netting from the rear of the vehicle as Quinn and Brea worked on freeing the SUV from its tangle of mesh. Scout slowly backed up, gun sweeping the area in front of her, that whine still playing in her head.
Twin scuffs had her turning, inhaling sharply as two mercs tripped out of the opposite tree line.
Mud splattered their clothes as they lifted their rifles, sighting Quinn’s back as he released the last of the netting.
She aimed, aware she couldn’t hit them both before they fired, not with the way they were stacked beside each other, their armor narrowing any viable shot to mere inches.
“Quinn!”
Her voice broke through the residual ringing. Her entire team reacted, targeting weapons or moving to intercept. Quinn turned, too, already reaching for his gun. But she knew, it wouldn’t be enough.
That none of her team could reach him in time.
She fired, determined to down the second asshole before he could pull off a kill shot, when a blur of movement rushed out from behind the SUV, arms pumping, feet kicking up dirt and stones.
Brea appeared beside the guy a breath later, pure fury coloring her cheeks.
The bastard startled, breaking his focus for the split-second Brea needed to throat punch him with the vee of her hand before grabbing his weapon, tugging him close.
After a vicious headbutt, she heaved him off his feet, pivoted and hurled him across the gravel road in a stunning display of raw, unadulterated violence.
He slammed spine-first into the front of the Gladiator, hitting the winch with a sickening crunch.
His body contorted around the hood, mouth pinched into a grimace, arms and legs bending at unusual angles, before he stilled, dropping silently to the ground.
Scout stared at Brea, shifted her gaze to Quinn, then back, wondering if she’d imagined his sister lifting a guy twice her weight and throwing him through the air.
Brea panted, chest heaving, hands shaking before she looked at everyone.
“That’s for making me run those fucking trials.
” A shiver worked through her as she wiped off her hands.
Another creep twitched, and she kicked him in the jaw, sending him tumbling four feet across the gravel.
“Can we go, now? This place gives me the creeps.”
Her teammates froze for a few moments before tossing the cargo nets into the back of the pickup.
As everyone scrambled inside the vehicles, Scout raced over and slid behind the wheel as Quinn jumped in the passenger side, Brea sitting in the back.
Coulter dragged the unconscious merc off to the side.
Climbing back in, Coulter peeled out, engine purring and all four tires kicking up stones.
Some of the men recovered as they rolled past, rising enough to fire overlapping suppressed rounds, the bullets pinging off the reinforced panels.
A few hit the glass, creating spiderweb cracks the length of the window as the SUV lurched ahead, shadowing Coulter’s rear bumper as he roared toward the parked vehicles.
He didn’t slow, ramming the second SUV blocking their exit, pushing it sideways into a deep drainage ditch. It hit hard, the horn blaring out in protest, the rear axle hung up on a downed log.
Scout drafted behind him, mud and gravel spraying out the back as a few errant rounds impacted the rear end. They raced ahead, navigating the pitch-black maze of switchbacks and spurs, the glow of the burning mountain shining in their rearview.
The tires fishtailed across the blacktop once they swerved onto the highway, smoke pouring out from the rubber.
The constant tick of stones fading into the steady hum of the asphalt.
Coulter eased up on the speed, electing to stay on the paved thoroughfare until they reached the forest service road back to the bunker.
Their headlights cut a swath through the dark, lighting up the carport as they pulled inside, and cut the engines. They continued to tick for a few minutes, the fans still cooling the engines after everything shut off, a numbing silence falling over them.
Quinn touched her hand, smiling when she snapped her gaze to him. “You waiting for something?”
She snorted. “The energy to move. I swear it just evaporated once I parked.”
He leaned forward and smiled. Her stomach fluttered at the sheer beauty of him. “I can carry you in.”
“And break more ribs? Or puncture a lung.” She brushed her thumb along his jaw, then opened her door, destroying the calm atmosphere with a blast of bright light. “If anyone needs help, it’s you.”
Brea snorted, shaking her head. “God, you two are as sickening as ever.” She stepped out, catching her balance on the side of the car. “Whoa. Guess I got up a bit too quickly.”
Quinn was out of the car and at Brea’s side a breath later. Arm around her waist, he ignored her assurances that she didn’t need any help while he steered her toward the bunker. Bright light spilled through the open door, Darwin’s dark silhouette standing in the center.
He hooked his arm under Brea’s, helping her into a wheelchair and pushing her down the hallway. Over his shoulder, he yelled for Quinn to get his ass into the med bay — Scout too.
Quinn took Scout’s hand in his, squeezing it as they hurried behind his sister, staring down Gus when he breezed past him in the hallway. Gus merely crossed his arms, following them until they walked into the other room.
Darwin helped Brea onto one of the exam tables, offering her a blanket as he looked over at Quinn. “I’m just going to do a quick once-over, then you’re up. Wynn said you broke some ribs and dislocated your shoulder.”