Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Rain needled through the trees, the increased wind lifting some of the fog, though fingers of it still lingered in the branches, cloaking all but the top of the canopy as they found the main road back to the center of the basin.
Tierney’s stomach dropped.
Pike had sounded different. Colder, as if their success had cost him. The way he’d been that night when the generator had failed.
Another roll of thunder sent shivers down her spine.
She hated the way it vibrated deep in her chest. How the lightning illuminated the shadows in ghostly snapshots that toyed with her sanity.
And she couldn’t help but draw the parallels between tonight and the one in Colombia.
How she’d been worried this game would tempt fate when she’d already pushed it farther than was wise.
Buck ran behind her, still blocking the worst of the wind as it tore down the trail, the road funneling it toward the camp.
He’d more than impressed her, disarming the collars in adverse conditions with bullets pinging off the beams. And she knew, he’d do it again.
Whatever twists Pike threw at him, Buck would beat the odds.
Her chest tightened.
She couldn’t lose him. Not after finally acknowledging what he meant to her. That, without him, she’d still be trapped in the darkness. Still be hiding in her cabin, praying the demons didn’t find her.
Another rumble, only this time, she embraced it. She’d used a storm’s fury to beat Pike once before. She’d do it again.
Tierney paused at the top of the ridge, staring down into the heart of the basin.
What looked like a graveyard of brown-streaked yellow-painted iron.
Massive, rusted logging equipment littered the large clearing, the machines spread out across the muddy landscape.
Three rotting bunkhouses circled the perimeter, a large, corrugated steel maintenance shed dominating the center, the shiny silver rolling door gleaming in the last vestiges of light.
The fog seemed thicker, carrying the scent of diesel, rust, and old oil, the wind barely swirling the mist amidst the skeletal remains.
Buck scanned the area, mouth pinched tight, muscles primed. He glanced at her, smiled. “Beats the river.”
“Let’s hope you still think that once we get down there.”
She headed off, following the winding switchbacks down the ravine walls, streaming mud and wet lichen nearly taking them to their knees more than once. Buck maintained his vigil, close enough he could jump in front but with enough distance he blocked any shot from behind.
She stopped once they reached the tree line, ducking behind an ancient pine before anyone inside the perimeter could get a bead on them.
Rain hammered the metal roof, the drum-like beat echoing across the basin, bouncing back on itself as it hit the trees.
A muffled cry sounded from somewhere off to the right, the open space amplifying the noise.
Buck pressed against her, the subtle contact easing the jumpy rhythm of her heart. “Well, this sucks. Every step is going to echo like a damn gunshot.” He rolled his shoulders. “Never thought I’d miss having to crawl through the woods.”
She pointed to one of the machines leaning cockeyed in the mud. “I say we make a run for the bulldozer. See if anyone takes a shot. Might narrow down where they’re hiding.”
“Agreed.” He moved in front. “Think it’s time I took lead.”
“Buck.”
“Your vest already took a round. I’m just playing the numbers.”
She stared at him, aware this wasn’t a fight she’d win. Not with his jaw firmed and his shoulders back.
He took her silence as his cue to move, sliding down the last of the muddy ravine, then slipping into the shadows of the bulldozer. She trailed behind him, covering his six, watching for any hint of movement.
Buck waited for her to settle in behind him before moving again, leapfrogging from one rusted chassis to another, using cracked mirrors to check around corners without presenting a target.
He kept his rifle at the ready, covering every angle until they reached the halfway point.
Tierney pressed her back against the hauler, inching closer to Buck as he stood at the front edge, scope pressed to his eye.
He motioned to the excavator sitting dead center of the yard. “Found our assets.”
Tierney peeked around the bumper, noting two hostages chained to the massive steel treads. “Jesus. It’s wide-open. Not a stitch of cover within twenty meters of them.”
“Thinking that’s the point.” He nodded toward a bunkhouse roof, then over to the sixty-foot crane off to the side. “Guaranteed we’ve got eyes up high, waiting for us to cross the gravel.”
She checked the time. “Fourteen minutes.”
Buck nodded, gaze sweeping the surroundings, and she knew he was looking for a way out that kept her on the sidelines and him in the crosshairs.
She checked her Sig — half a clip with another mag in her vest, a couple flash bangs for when things got desperate. “I’ll draw their fire. You push to the excavator. Start working on those collars. I’ll keep their focus on me.”
“Tierney…”
“I know. You hate it. But you also know it’s the only plan that might end with us all still breathing.” She readied herself, paused to plant a hard, quick kiss on his mouth. “Don’t cut the wrong wire.”
“Don’t get shot.”
She sucked in a breath, then popped out, firing a line across their suspected nests, then sprinted across the yard, kicking a rusty bucket in case they somehow missed her.
A rifle cracked from the top of the crane, the bullet sparking off a steel beam several inches behind her. She dodged left, dove when the hairs on the back of her neck prickled, avoiding the second shot that echoed across the yard, the bullet exploding in a puddle an inch from her boot.
She rolled to her feet, zigzagging the last several meters before diving into the gutted shell of an old logging truck cab, glass raining down on her, the report shaking paint and dust down from the rusted roof.
She ducked beneath the chipped dash, catching a glimpse of Buck hauling ass across the yard through the holes in the door, slipping behind the excavator, more brass popping next to him.
She fired off more cover rounds, lowering into the footwell when the asshole on top of the bunkhouse walked his shots across the quarter panel, then along the hood, punching more holes through the crumbling chassis.
The impacts had the metal singing, the entire truck rocking in the mud, her chance at keeping Buck safe going up in a cloud of rusted dust. She grabbed one of the flash bangs, waiting until the guy paused to reload before levering up — tossing the canister across the yard.
The grenade bounced twice, spinning on top of a shallow puddle before exploding in a wash of white light. The ear-piercing shrill stabbed pain through her skull, but she fought through the numbing effects — steadied her hand enough to get off a couple shots toward the asshole’s nest.
She missed wide, her report still blending with the flash bang when a hushed thut sounded from the same direction.
The guy cried out, tumbling off the roof a second later, his rifle clattering to the ground a good twenty feet in front.
An extra mag dropped next to it, kicking up mud as a shadowed figure appeared amidst the smoke, saluting once before vanishing into the fog.
Dalton.
No question.
The massive form, the hint of blond hair in the fading light. He’d given her a lifeline without blowing his cover.
She crawled across the bench seat, kicked the other door open, then slipped out, moving to the truck’s bumper.
The guy in the crane focused on Buck, clicking rounds off the bucket as he worked on the collars, completely defenseless.
She gauged the distance, then darted out, emptying her Sig as she hoofed it across the open stretch of mud and gravel, sliding in beside the dead guy a few seconds later.
A round split the air, the shot clipping her vest, punching out the air in her lungs. She hit the ground, scrambled for the carbine, the gunman already panning back to Buck, planting him in his crosshairs as he switched positions, both hands working on the collar.
Tierney rolled onto her ass, rifle snugged in her shoulder, her scope centered on the cage.
She let the sounds settle, sighting the guy through the rain, exhaling a second later as she fired three, disciplined shots through the mesh.
The guy jerked, his last shot going wide, sparking off the bucket before he toppled forward, slumping over the controls.
Pain pulsed through her chest, but the vest held, another slug mushroomed on the side. She checked the time…
Four minutes.
Tierney pushed to her feet, scoping the yard, aware there were still at least two more players on the board — the ones they hadn’t capped at the bridge — as she tripped her way over to Buck. He had the wires exposed on both collars, multiple panels removed from the unit.
He glanced over at her, frowning at the slug embedded in her vest. “Pretty sure I told you not to get shot.”
“Vest held. You okay?”
He clenched his jaw, mumbling under his breath. “He linked the two relays together. I have to snip the timer wires at the same time or…”
The woman whimpered, jiggling against her restraints.
Buck squeezed her shoulder. “Just breathe. And watch Tierney. I’ll take care of the wires.”
The woman locked her gaze on Tierney’s as she shuffled over, watching the tree line, searching any shadowed recess large enough to hide a man. The rain picked up, a bit of the fog lifting as thunder rumbled overhead, a flash of lightning cracking the air.
Sixty seconds.
Buck yanked more wires, finally isolating two before grabbing another pair of snips. He slid them under the wires, taking a deep breath before cutting the lines, freezing as the timers flashed a few times, the numbers turning green before stopping, two seconds showing on the face.
Buck dropped the tools into his pouch, removing a lock pick set. He worked on the chains, finally hauling both hostages to their feet.
Tierney rounded the excavator, yanked on the door, urging them both up. “Stay down until we’re sure it’s clear.”
The couple scrambled into the cab, closing the door behind them as Buck shouldered up to her. He held out the phone, waiting for the inevitable ring, but it just sat there, rain ticking off the case, eerily silent.
Tierney shook her head. “I don’t like this. He should have called by now. Something’s off.”
“We’ve got all six victims. We win. I say we haul ass back to the other sectors, get everyone clear before he sends a fucking wet squad after us.”
She weighed the options, her gaze drawn back to the shed — a detail that had been nagging at her but had just now fully formed. “Buck? Why does the metal door on the shed look so new?”
Buck focused on the shed, eyes narrowed, muscles still primed. He narrowed his gaze, looking as if he was working through some kind of complicated math problem before he inhaled, shoved her behind him, his rifle at the ready, his body shielding her from any kind of frontal assault.
The forest stilled, even the rain pausing for one heart-stopping beat before the metal door slowly lifted, each roll of the wheels emitting a shrieking metallic grind.
Harsh, halogen light spilled out of the interior, illuminating the yard with bright white light that reflected off the lingering fog, amplifying the intensity of it.
A handful of shadows wavered within the light, the scene finally settling as their eyes adjusted, brought everything into sharp focus.
Pike stood in the center of the blinding glow, lips curved into a smug grin, a light-machine gun strapped to his chest. Four men flanked him on either side, everyone dressed for heavy resistance, including advanced body armor, gloves, and helmets, as two more men stepped out of the tree line behind them, effectively boxing them in.
Pike clapped his hands, grinning as he placed them back on his weapon. “I have to say, you two ruined a perfectly good night for profits. But then again, you did give my audience one hell of a show.”
He took a calculated step forward, patting the LMG. “My turn.”