Chapter 42
Sean
On the factory floor, Lil and I take cover under the iron staircase, praying the erratic drones won’t crash into the frame.
Daed shouts in our comms. “What the fuck is happening in there?”
“Toy drones activated.” Tearing off my night goggles, I pull my flashlight from my utility belt and sweep it around the room.
Thank God, most of the UAVs remain sealed inside their plastic packaging, or in pieces, waiting to be assembled.
“Do they have the virus?”
“No idea.” As the words leave my mouth, shouting echoes off the back wall. Snippets of frantic conversations reveal our worst nightmare.
“Scratch that.” My chin lowers to my mic. “These toys crash? Everyone’s dead.”
Daed doesn’t miss a beat. “Plan B. Evacuate.”
“On our way. Over.” Grabbing Lil’s hand, I trot down another route toward the door by the loading dock.
We pass a machine surrounded by stacks of propellers, motors, and assorted plastic parts. A box’s bright orange biohazard sticker brings me to a stop.
“Oh shit.” Her gaze tracks mine. “Sean, don’t touch it.”
“Not an option.” I’m guessing this is the pathogen. This might be our only chance to grab a sample.
Trying not to disturb anything, I lift the flap using my weapon’s muzzle. Inside, blood collection vials rest in fitted Styrofoam trays, each holding a clear liquid.
Dammit. My stomach drops. “Dante, we found the virus. I repeat, we found the pathogen.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Got it. Consider every drone lethal.”
My grip tightens on my weapon as one of the motherfuckers hovers at eye level. Creepy cartoon eyes stare above its painted smile. Jesus, what kind of sick mind thought that up?
When it zooms away, I tear off a piece of bubble wrap and slip a vial into a vest pocket.
Eyes widening, Lillian lowers her head and nods before we creep forward. So far, no one else has ventured onto the manufacturing floor.
No surprise there.
We’re almost at our exit when gunfire erupts. A bullet zings past my ear. As it lodges in the machine to my left, I tackle my woman to the floor, thanking the almighty I wrapped the damn vial before putting it in my vest.
A male voice I never wanted to hear again rises above the chaos. “Ceasefire. I need my daughter alive.”
Lil shudders under me. “You stay. I’ll give myself up.”
“No fucking way. Lose the NVGs and follow my lead.” Dropping on all fours, I crawl toward our destination. “Stay close.”
Muzzle flashes strobe through the windows. Breathing hard, we inch forward until Dante’s voice cuts through the rat-a-tat of automatic fire.
“Abort Plan B.”
Now what?
“Bathrooms.” Lillian points to the east.
Whirring propellers almost drown out the occasional pop of gunfire as we slink under tables and around heavy machinery toward the gender-neutral restroom.
Before I can stop her, she hops onto the vanity, stretches for the overhead ledge, and rises with a pull-up worthy of a gymnast. Hands at her waist, she rests her abs on the sill, squeezing forward until her shoulders disappear through the window.
Worried the damned woman might fall on her head, I jump to secure her wiggling feet. Back inside, she slides along my length, stopping when her toes touch the tops of my boots.
Goggles down, helmet askew, she bobs her head. “No one’s out there. It’s safe.”
Biting back the “Are you mad, woman?” I lace my fingers together for a boost.
Seconds later, ass on the windowsill, she swings her legs and drops to the ground.
“Hurry up,” she hisses in my earpiece.
Unlike her, my shoulders barely fit through the opening. Headfirst, I crawl down the wall, ignoring my throbbing leg. When my hands hit the grass, my feet soon follow. Standing next to Lil, I face a chain-link fence.
Beyond that lies a long, open field. No bushes. No trees. No rocks. Not an option.
“Daed, we’re out. Where to?” I tug Lillian closer in case she’s considering a run.
Before he can reply, a man shouts from the bathroom. “Don’t shoot the drones. Wait for the hazmat team.”
Footsteps crunch gravel to my right. Swiveling on my heel, I double-tap, dropping an armed guy and his buddy. By the time they hit the ground, I have a plan.
“Babe, with me.” No time to explain, I bolt to the bigger of the motionless men, lower to a knee, then unbutton his shirt. Like me, he wears a Kevlar vest.
Ball cap, balaclava, trousers, various weapons… Piece by piece, we become indistinguishable from the men hired to kill us. When we’re finished, we roll the bodies under the shrubs beside the building.
Long guns raised, NVGs covering our eyes, we trot toward a group of eight men guarding the front entrance.
A military drone hovers overhead. If it’s theirs, it’ll no doubt pick up the fading heat signatures of the men we killed. Before I can grab Lilly’s hand and run, a second flying object swoops in, shooting the first out of the sky.
After the wreckage crashes into the sidewalk, an almost seven-foot man stares at our disguises, assessing.
Are we made?
Automatic rifle close, trigger finger ready, I take a calming breath. If necessary, I will not hesitate to mow these men down, starting with him.
The leader lowers his chin toward his comms. “Understood.”
This is it.
As I’m about to shoot, he points in our general direction. “They need you by the loading area. You four. Go. Stay sharp. They made it out of the building.”
Fuck, that was too close.
Lilly and I hang behind the other two who jump into action. Around the corner, no longer in sight of the others, I put a finger to my lips, then signal for her to take the one on the right.
I release the rifle, letting it hang from the shoulder strap. As it bounces at my side, I slide the knife from the utility belt. Lil does the same. Under the bathroom window, my left hand counts down.
Three. Two. One.
A slice across the neck brings down my target. Hers dies by a blade sunk into the base of the skull. Remorse may come, but I doubt it. Who the hell signs up to guard toy helicopters containing deadly viruses?
Raising our night goggles, we join six masked soldiers standing beside the semis, still idling under the parking lot lights. The rest of our team are nowhere to be found. I pray they made it back to the vehicle.
“Did you find them?” A gorilla-sized merc with dark eyes over a crooked nose steps toward me.
Frowning at my two thumbs down, he raises his weapon at Lil. “Lower your mask.”
Damn, Jesus, Dante, where are you?
When five others point their rifles at her, I do the same.
As I edge behind them, my partner hooks her fingers under the edge of her balaclava, exposing the lower half of her face.
“What the…” The man’s furrowed brows rise. A second later, his eyes light with joy.
Tone bright, chin down, he says into his chest, “Sir, we have your daughter.”
A celebration of sorts erupts. Men congratulate themselves and discuss how they’ll spend their bonuses, but not for long. A black town car speeds up the drive. As it stops in front of us, the back door opens.
Oh, fuck me dead. It’s Liam Boyle.
My index finger slips to the trigger, but I won’t take the shot. Not yet. Too risky.
Smirking, her father strides forward. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist my laptop.”
“Doesn’t matter.” My brave woman juts out her chin. “You’re a dead man walking.”
Keep him talking, babe. I shrink further into the growing crowd. Clueless, they high-five me as I shuffle to the side.
“You thought you could play me?” A rabid dog, Boyle wipes the spittle from his mouth. His obsession isn’t about heirs. It’s all about winning. He can’t handle the fact that his daughter is smarter than him.
“I won, Father. If you’re fast, you might make it to the airport.”
“Quiet!” His hand whips across her face with such force that she drops to her knees. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
The abusive asshole just sealed his coffin.
“There.” Holding her cheek, Lil stabs an index finger toward the boots of the fallen we shoved under the bushes.
When all heads turn, I grip my knife, step forward, and wrap my arm around Liam’s neck, the blade drawing blood.
“Guns down. Now! Or he dies.” My command booms over the idling trucks and echoes off the cement.
“Let her go.” Sensing their reluctance, my bicep tightens. “A dead boss can’t pay you.”
Lungs empty, Boyle claws at my arm. He’s lucky I don’t break his neck.
“Behind me, Lil.”
Once she’s in place, I fix my gaze on monkey-man. “Those flying toys in there? They’re carrying a deadly virus.”
“You’re lying.” Uncertain, he glances at the warehouse.
As his buddies grumble, I force Boyle away from the crowd, further into the lot.
“If even one crashes,” I raise my voice. “We’re all dead.”
The distant thump of helicopter blades gives me a sliver of hope. If it belongs to Dante, Lil and I are saved. Otherwise, I’m out of ideas.