Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
He couldn’t lose her.
That was the only thing going through Chase’s mind as he stared at Greer, her green eyes shining in the yellowed light.
Point or sweep…
He still couldn’t believe she’d asked. Given him the choice.
Hell, that she’d allowed him to come at all.
Especially after the distance he’d put between them — physically there and yet completely removed.
Then he’d suggested she’d knowingly kept them in the dark because she hadn’t wanted to share any theory where Rhett’s death wasn’t the only objective.
He’d been wrong, and that one mistake had cost him the fragile hold he’d had on her heart. She hadn’t said those words, but he’d noticed the way she’d looked at him. As if she wasn’t sure if he cared.
He wasn’t proud of his behavior but…
Losing Rhett…
It had scarred him in a way even Sean’s death hadn’t. Left him questioning his skill. His damn worth. Aware that if he didn’t deserve happiness, he sure as shit didn’t deserve Greer. Not until he found some semblance of redemption.
If he found it.
Chase pushed the thoughts out of his head. He could worry about a future if they still had one after clearing the nursing home. If he didn’t let her down the way he’d let down Rhett.
He started down the hallway, pausing at each half-open door.
The faint glow from the various monitors highlighted the mounded bodies hidden beneath sheets and blankets, the machines’ batteries still pumping oxygen and marking out heart rates, each beep reverberating in the stillness.
Greer shadowed his every move, constantly checking their six — watching both directions whenever he darted into a room to clear recesses not visible from the doorway.
A voice murmured farther down the hallway, wheelchairs and IV stands slowly materializing out of the dark, the flashlights casting distorted shadows across the floor. Her soft treads sounded in the stillness, lingering in the thick air.
Chase stopped at the last room, that voice sounding from inside.
Greer nodded when he showed the countdown, busting through the door once he’d reached one.
The man on the bed twitched, muttering a few words without opening his eyes before drifting back off.
A spiderweb of lines and tubes wove across the headboard trailing to the monitors beyond.
A single tray lay upside down on the floor.
Comatose ward his ass.
A creak.
Close.
What sounded like hinges groaning in protest, a soft whoosh following a few seconds later. They backtracked to the hallway, bouncing the beam along the far wall until they found the elevator and stairwell Faraday had mentioned.
Chase ran the beam across the silver doors, then across the exit to the stairwell before glancing at Greer. “Not that I’d take the elevator if it was even an option, but… you still good with clearing the lower level?”
“There’s no way I’m leaving here until I know we’ve checked for any possible threat, so crack that emergency door open.”
He studied her for a moment, admiring the determined line of her back. How she stood there, weapon ready, muscles primed, prepared for whatever waited behind the thick metal door. The woman was incredible.
He took a breath, counted to three, then shoved the door open. Greer swept onto the platform, clearing the immediate area before scanning the steps below. He darted in beside her, covering the door as it whooshed shut before scouring the stairs.
Movement.
Not much. More a shifting of the shadows at the bottom. Just like in the abandoned hospital. That ominous prickling along the back of his neck in full force. He traced the railing. Waited.
A scuffed black boot crept into the light, same one he’d spied last night right before the bastard had launched that attack.
Chase grabbed Greer and yanked her back, hitting the far wall a second before bullets sprayed up the stairwell, ricocheting off the railing and into the walls.
He covered her head against his chest, darting out to fire down the stairwell after the first wave.
More footsteps tapped below him, the lower door opened and closed.
Greer shoved him, and they took off, racing down the stairs two at a time. He paused at the bottom, checked behind the stairs, then moved to the door.
He motioned for her to open it, arching his brow when she narrowed her eyes. “You got to go first upstairs.”
“Only because you knew the bastard wouldn’t be hiding behind it.”
“We’re not wearing our vests.”
“Who thought this would turn into another damn gauntlet run.” She grabbed the handle. “Don’t get shot.”
She reefed it open, and he dove out, rolling to his feet with his Sig already zeroed in on the far end of the corridor, ready to strike at the slightest hint of aggression. Something clattered in the distance as a shadow moved off to the left.
Chase pointed in the direction, then took off, sprinting down the hallway. He vaulted over a toppled gurney, dodging a large bin as he wove his way through the utility room, ducking behind some machinery when a figure crossed the hallway in front of him.
Greer darted in behind him, not missing a beat, as she motioned to the corridor, then jumped out. He stayed with her, moving slowly — giving himself plenty of time to react. Muffled grunts sounded off to their left, a metallic rattling noise cutting through the quiet.
Chase covered Greer as she shuffled ahead, weapon aimed at a figure mostly hidden in the shadows before Chase pegged the silhouette with his flashlight.
She stopped. “What the…” She inched closer, her flashlight reflecting off a swath of plastic peeking out from beneath a set of scrubs, the dummy’s wig tilted off to one side. “Is that a mannequin?”
Chase had Greer by the arm and pressed between him and a piece of machinery a heartbeat later, using his body to block any possible hit. “Someone walked across the hallway. Made those sounds.”
“I know, but—”
A series of grunts drowned her out, the rough sound mixing with the hints of diesel in the air. Echoing off the shiny surfaces.
Chase scanned the mannequin, frowning at the cable knotted around its neck — a small speaker hanging off the end. “I’ve got an incredibly bad feeling about this…”
A blast of static crackled the air followed by a scream, then scuffling, something thudding to the ground. A wet gurgling noise echoed around them, reminiscent of that night in the chopper. The way Sean had sounded before he’d died.
How Chase imagined Rhett had been when he’d been lying there, praying his brothers would find him in time.
That Chase would find him.
Greer raised one hand to her mouth. “Oh, god.” She moved out from behind him, her flashlight centered on the speaker. “Where… Wait. Do you hear what’s in the background?”
Chase frowned, then inhaled. “Fuck, the foghorn.”
He cleared the immediate area, then took off, dodging through the machines and extra supplies, jumping over boxes and crates. Heading for the service exit somewhere on the other side.
Light.
Not much.
Just a shade brighter than the room, but Chase angled toward it, aiming his weapon at the twin doors as they appeared in the circular beam. He barely stopped long enough to glance through the windows before bursting through the doors — racing into the night.
Fog crawled across the pavement, clinging to the hanging branches as rain drizzled from the sky. Hints of moonlight brightened the clouds low on the horizon, that mournful horn drifting on the light breeze.
Greer followed him out, running toward the edge of the rear driveway. Grass stretched out on either side, a few benches resting beneath towering maples dotting the landscape.
Chase moved in beside her, holding her back as he studied the lawn along the driveway. Looking for some kind of impression. A footprint or depression. Something to narrow the search.
Mud.
Caked along the grass in distinct lines.
The kind combat boot treads left behind. Heading toward the rear of the property.
Greer covered his six, trailing after him as he followed the marks, pausing at the corner. An engine growled to life in the distance, the telltale revs rising above the foghorn before fading into the patter of rain.
Chase peeked around the corner, searching for a sniper beam glowing in the fog — something to suggest their perp hadn’t escaped in whatever vehicle had just taken off — then rounded the building, quickstepping over to an open courtyard.
Tables stacked with chairs occupied half the space, decorative planters lining the sides.
Shoes.
Sticking out from behind one of the wooden boxes.
Overly white in the harsh beam.
Chase ran the last several feet, dropping to his knees once he’d reached the woman. Blonde. Slim build wearing scrubs and a name tag.
Stacey Bradford.
He swallowed, noting the familiar curve of her face. She’d been Rhett’s nurse. Had always gone that extra mile to keep him comfortable, often allowing Chase and his buddies to visit after hours.
He checked a pulse. Weak but there.
Greer stopped behind him, her flashlight dancing over Stacey. “Christ.”
He nodded, staring at the IV tubing twisted around her neck, a knot centered in front. Just like the mannequin inside. Her head tilted off to one side, streaks of mascara staining her cheeks.
He looked up at Greer. “I have to remove the tubing. Reposition her.”
“Whatever you need. Lives, first. Evidence later.”
He went to work, easing the line free before checking her vitals. “She’s not breathing. Call Kash. I need to know if he’s here yet.”
Chase started rescue breathing, mentally keeping time, as Greer grabbed her cell — had Kash’s line ringing in the distance as she shifted around him, looking as if she wanted to cover every angle while still keeping the woman encased in that circular beam.
Kash answered on the first ring. “Talk to me Greer.”
“Hold for Chase…” She placed the cell next to Chase’s head.
Chase grunted, pausing for only a second. “Where are you?”