CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
David’s head pulsed, each beat of his heart sending throbbing waves of red across his vision. He opened his eyes, but there was no change to the pulsing waves. He swallowed, and pain followed the movement down his neck.
He groaned, but he wasn’t sure if the noise he heard was his groaning or the last few spins of his Subaru’s destroyed engine as it wound down.
Grief washed through him, powerful enough that there was no mistaking the sob of anguish he heard next. He was a fool, and he was going to die like a fool.
But he wasn’t dead yet.
A burst of strength ran up his spine, enough that he turned his head left and right, trying to take stock of his situation.
He could barely see the outside past his vehicle, but he knew that the Subaru was lying on its roof, and he was upside down.
The airbags had gone off, but the force of the crash and the shards of glass and metal along with several roots and branches kicked up by the rolling car had punctured the bags, which now hung limply around him.
He was held upright by his seatbelt, but if he could get that unhooked, he could crawl through the window to safety. He could call for help after that, assuming his phone wasn’t damaged.
He reached for his phone, then realized it had fallen during the rollover.
Of course it had. He had it laying on a charging pad like anyone else who drove a modern vehicle.
A touch of panic coursed through him at this realization, but he quelled it.
One step at a time. He needed to get himself loose and get out of the vehicle. Then he could look for his phone.
He unclipped his belt and fell hard onto the roof.
His neck wrenched, and a light burst behind his eyes.
He gasped as fresh pain roiled through him.
For a frightening moment, he thought he had broken his neck, but when he used his hands and elbows to move himself toward the window, he was able to move his head without causing himself more pain.
He had gotten lucky. Very lucky. He realized that now. His car was totaled, and he had probably earned himself a few days in the hospital, but he was alive, and he really shouldn’t be.
Damn, Faith was going to be pissed.
He chuckled a little at that thought, not because it was funny but because the fact that he would think about that right now seemed hilarious. Typical married man response.
He shimmied carefully toward the window.
It was tedious and awkward work. The front of his car had crumpled completely during the accident, and his legs were wedged in between the twisted interior panels.
As he carefully extricated himself and pulled himself through the opening, glass shards tore through his shirt and sliced through his back.
He winced and cried out, feeling the needle-like points rip through his skin.
He pushed through. The cuts to his back were superficial compared to the damage he would receive if he remained upside down.
Already the blood pooling in his head was causing serious headaches, a sign of extreme pressure on the arteries and veins in his head.
If one of those blood vessels burst, he could suffer severe damage: loss of eyesight, stroke, memory loss, and death.
Finally, he pulled his legs out through the window. He kicked free of the car and lay still, head elevated above his legs. He stared up at the night sky, watching the stars swim in his vision while the pressure in his head receded.
He had made it.
A shadow fell over him. He blinked, and the shadow coalesced into that of a burly dark-skinned man in the uniform of a Marine Corporal. David’s eyes widened when he saw the gun in the man’s hand.
Everything came together. This was the driver of the truck that had run him off the road. Intentionally run him off the road. That wasn’t an accident; that was an attack.
The pieces fell into place. This was probably the man who had broken into his office earlier tonight and taken pictures of him the first time he came here to spy on the testing brigade. This wasn’t Colonel Chastain but a lackey of his assigned to rid them of David once and for all.
David swallowed thickly. “Please…”
The corporal chuckled without smiling. “That’s what they all say.”
David braced for the end.
Then someone hit the corporal from the side, hard enough to send him flying through the air. David blinked and turned to see a tall figure almost as burly as the corporal kick the gun from the corporal’s hand.
The corporal growled and threw himself at the newcomer’s legs, tackling him to the ground.
He pushed himself upright and lifted a huge, knobby fist, but before he could deliver the blow, the newcomer bucked his hips, then rolled on top of the corporal.
David could only see the man’s silhouette, but it looked familiar somehow.
The stranger backed off of the corporal and got to his feet, hands raised in a boxer’s stance. The corporal got to his feet, brushed dirt from his legs, then growled at the newcomer. He stepped forward, and the stranger threw a lightning sharp combo: jab-cross-hook-uppercut.
The stranger blocked the left hand and dodged the right, but the left hook slammed into his temple, and the right uppercut crashed into his jaw.
The corporal’s head snapped back, and the stranger stepped forward and buried a knee into his gut.
The corporal doubled over, but when the stranger tried to drop a double hammerfist down on his neck, he grabbed the man around his waist again.
This time, the stranger threw his legs out behind him in a wrestler’s sprawl and pushed down on the corporal’s head, forcing his momentum downward and staying upright.
David’s eyes were adjusting to the dark, and he saw that the stranger was Caucasian, in his early forties, and slightly overweight but still powerfully built.
And now David recognized him. “Michael,” he called, his voice a hoarse whisper.
“Kinda busy, David,” Faith’s friend and former partner quipped.
The corporal, frustrated that he couldn’t take Michael to the ground, stepped back and threw a massive overhand left. Michael stepped forward and blocked the blow by placing his forearm on the man’s bicep, then lifted that arm rapidly, driving an upward elbow that shattered the corporal’s nose.
The corporal shrieked and ran backwards, pressing his hand to his nose. Michael, breathing heavily, stepped in between David and the Marine, hands raised once more. The corporal dropped his hand away and glared at Michael, baring his teeth. He reached into a pouch on his vest and drew a knife.
“Don’t do it,” Michael warned.
With a roar, the man charged, thrusting at Michael with the knife. Michael parried the blow, then faded away from a slash that would have disemboweled him. The corporal lifted the knife high and brought it down hard.
Michael brought both hands up to block the thrust, but that left him open to a left hook to his liver.
He cried out and fell to a knee, and the corporal threw another left hook that struck him in the jaw.
He fell to the ground, and the corporal cried out with joy and jumped down, bringing the knife toward his head.
Michael rolled out of the way, and the knife buried itself in the dirt between Michael and David. The corporal cursed and pulled the knife out of the ground. He looked at David, grinned, then swung the knife viciously at David’s throat.
Hands wrapped around the corporal’s waist, and Michael pulled him backwards off of his feet. The knife swung inches from David’s face. He heard the sing of the blade as it cut the air in front of him.
Michael took another step back and when the corporal tried to stab his arms, he released the man. The knife buried itself in the corporal’s gut instead. He gasped and stared in disbelief at the handle sticking out of his abdomen.
Michael threw a short right hook into the man’s kidney, and he cried out and dropped to his knees. Michael angled off and threw a perfect Muay Thai roundhouse kick that connected solidly with the corporal’s temple. He fell to the ground and lay still.
Michael limped and rubbed his shin. He said something to David, but David didn’t hear it.
He was too busy staring at the dead man in front of him.
Dead because of him. Dead because he couldn’t let this go.
No longer alive, because David had interfered with his mission, and he had come to kill David.
David’s actions had gotten someone killed. In self-defense, yes, or rather a friend defending him, but still…
I shouldn’t have done this. I should have stayed away. Faith was right, and I should have stayed away.
Michael was in front of him now, staring at him and calling his name. David blinked and focused his attention on him.
“Hey? Are you listening? Can you hear me?”
“Sorry,” David croaked.
“Yeah, you should be,” Michael scolded. “And we can have a long conversation about it later. Right now, though, we’re going to get you to a hospital.”
He bent down and lifted David to his feet. David’s head swam, and his feet collapsed underneath him. Michael kept him from falling and picked him up off the ground, grunting with the effort.
“Just so you know,” Michael said, voice straining as he carried David up the hill to his waiting SUV. “I will never let you live this down.”
David felt a rush of gratitude and guilt in equal measure.
Tears came to his eyes, and though this was not at all an appropriate time to cry, they fell anyway.
Michael, thankfully, let them fall without mention.
He waved his foot under the SUV’s rear bumper, and the liftgate opened revealing a folded third row and two opulent second-row captain’s chairs.
“Okay,” Michael said, laying David down in the middle of the floor. “Pull yourself up in between the second row. I can push you, but it’ll hurt like a bitch.”
David grabbed the second-row chairs and pulled himself into the vehicle, wincing as pain rippled through his aching muscles.
“Good. Okay, this is going to be a rough ride, but it is what it is.”
He shut the liftgate, and as the automatic damper slowly lowered it into place, he jumped into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and pulled smoothly away from the accident.
“I’m pretty sure that man’s dead,” Michael said.
“Which is a problem, but less of a problem than it would be if he was alive.”
David gasped. The reality of the situation washed over him again.
He had killed a man. Technically, the corporal had killed himself by stabbing his abdomen, and Michael had helped by knocking him unconscious before he could address that injury, but this had all happened because of David.
He had doggedly pursued justice for Sierra, and in that singleminded pursuit, he had created a problem that led to violence.
Now a man was dead, and David knew he wouldn’t be the first. He stared through the SUV’s enormous sunroof, processing the magnitude of what had just occurred.
Michael glanced at him, and David saw sympathy in his eyes.
“Don’t beat yourself up too bad,” he advised David.
“Faith would have done the same thing. So would I, I guess.” He laughed wryly.
“We’re all just a bunch of crazy sons and daughters of bitches.
” He looked at David again. “But we’ll get ‘em. We’ll get those motherfuckers. ”
David was dealing with more emotion than he could cope with right now, but behind the storm raging in his mind was a kernel of hope.
Against all odds, he was still alive. And he had good friends, capable friends.
They were facing a powerful enemy, but as long as they faced that enemy together, David could believe that things would work out eventually.
He had to believe that. The other option was to accept that he was already dead and tonight had only been a stay of execution.