Chapter 3 #3
She nodded, sidestepped along the edge until she reached the massive rocks, covering Buck while he raced over. They took up sentry positions, each watching half of the tree line as the minutes ticked down, nothing but the raging ocean and the impending dread filling the void.
Fog crept up the cliff, curling over the open ridge in wispy fingers, gradually thickening until only the black silhouettes of the treetops were visible above it.
The rhythmic sound of the ocean played in the background, everything settling into an eerie quiet, when the QRF team flowed out of the forest, rifles sweeping the rocky bench, the men decked out in black tactical garb.
They quickstepped to the top of the chimney before flanking out, slowly closing in on the boulders.
Buck waited until they’d decreased the distance by half, walked into a bit of a funnel, before signaling Tierney. They fired, knocking men off their feet, hitting a few outside their armor as the team retaliated, filling the clearing with a steady stream of brass.
The bullets ticked off the granite, a few ricochets whizzing past their heads close enough they flinched, but they held their position, the spent casings lying like broken promises on the cold stone.
Tierney ducked back in, slinging the rifle over her back as she waved for his Sig.
He handed it over, already halfway through the last mag for the carbine when the team retreated into the forest, their shadows moving amidst the trunks as they flanked right.
Buck grabbed his last tripwire. “Next time we go scouting, I’m bringing a pound of Semtex.”
Tierney grinned. “I’ll gladly pack it in.”
He readied the charge, tossing it at the first group who barreled out of the trees, sending them diving for cover when it exploded in a display of light and sound. Nothing lethal, but it bought them another minute without using more ammo.
A rhythmic thump-thump-thump vibrated through Buck’s chest a moment before he heard the chopper’s rotors beating the air.
Nav lights blinked against the midnight sky, the helicopter swooping in along the coastline.
He grabbed the emergency flare from his pack, popped the cap and struck the tip.
It flashed to life, burning a bright red as he chucked it into the fray.
The chopper altered course just as tracers lit up the night, bursts of gunfire pelting the aircraft. Buck blasted a stream of retaliatory fire, driving the men back just as Foster brought the machine into a low hover, the violent downwash swirling up a hurricane of pine needles and dirt.
The side doors slid open, Eric Dalton and Zain Everett each leaning out, long guns strapped to their chest. They laid down a terrifying line of suppressive fire across the ledge and into the tree line, cutting through branches and kicking up stones and dirt.
Buck hooked Tierney’s arm, shielding her as they sprinted toward the chopper, a few shots hitting the ground behind them.
They dove into the cabin, sliding across the floor as Foster lifted the aircraft, dropped it off the side of the cliff a heartbeat later.
Wind rushed in through the open doors, echoed gunfire still ringing in the air as the helicopter picked up speed, leaving the chaos behind them.
Zain closed the doors, shutting out the noise, plunging the interior into an eerie silence before Raven’s Watch’s medics, Rowan Scott and Chase Remington, jumped into action, hauling Buck and Tierney onto the seats, passing out blankets and assessing injuries.
Buck batted at Chase’s hands, finally relenting when his buddy arched a brow, looking as if he’d just as soon knock Buck out as argue with him.
Chase shook his head as he cut away Tierney’s temporary fix, inspected the bullet wound on Buck’s arm. “Christ. Only you two would go on a remote scouting trip and stumble into a cartel drop.”
Tierney shivered on the bench beside Buck, skin pale, lips tinged blue. He reached out with his good hand, threaded his fingers through hers.
He relaxed against the bulkhead, the weight of her hand easing the frantic pounding in his chest. “I don’t know what that was, but it wasn’t a cartel deal.”
Tierney shuffled closer, teeth chattering, breathing still a bit wild as she stared at the dark floor of the chopper. “Buck’s right. Cartels don’t dress their targets in orange cargo pants with barcodes on their shirts.”
Chase frowned, his hands stilling on the bandages. “Well, shit. Now Greer will insist on combing through the entire damn forest.”
Buck tapped his breast pocket, feeling the hard plastic edges of the gear he’d stripped off the dead man.
“I took photos of the cave. And I stole some of their tech. But Greer shouldn’t handle this alone.
Whatever this is, it’s organized, heavily funded, with someone filming the whole thing.
” He looked over at Tierney, his thumb tracing the mud and dried blood on her knuckles.
“We need to call Avery. Get Sloane to tear this tech apart before whoever owns it realizes what we stole and scrubs the entire mountain clean.”