Where the fuck was Dave?
“Then who’s in the barn?” Boston yelled, keeping pace beside him.
Stone couldn’t even find the air to answer Boston. He tore across the open stretch of dirt, boots pounding hard. The guard at the door barely had time to blink before Stone shoved past and stormed inside.
The corridor echoed with his footsteps. Another guard stood near the cells when he reached the end of the hall.
One cell held Franklin, chewing through whatever the hell Cookie had sent over for breakfast. The other was empty.
“What?” Franklin sneered around a mouthful of food.
Stone ignored him and fixed on the guard. “Where’s the man who was in that cell?” He jabbed a finger toward the open door.
“Out by the corral,” the guard blurted. “Dave had me take him out.”
Franklin laughed, low and ugly, but Stone didn’t stay to shut him up.
He pushed past Boston, Sage, and Law on his way out, the guard scrambling to keep up. Rounding the corner, he hit the corral—and stopped cold.
Empty. Just a few horses grazing in the dust.
Sage sprinted up, thrusting an earpiece into Stone’s hand. He jammed it in and kept moving.
“Dave’s gone. Tatum’s gone too,” Stone’s voice cracked through the comms.
Heat and bile hit Stone’s throat. He swallowed it down.
“So, we brought Tatum back?” Sage’s voice filled with disbelief.
“Get your gear, kid,” Law snapped.
“Not a kid.” Sage lifted his laptop bag and shirt, flashing the blade at his hip.
Law gave an abrupt nod, but didn’t stop moving.
Stone barely heard any of it. His focus tunneled.
Find Dave. Erase every threat in the way.
“Chopper’s hot,” Viper growled through the channel.
Stone took off. Boots pounded dirt. Wind hit hard as he reached the landing pad.
He vaulted into the Blackhawk—Viper and Rip already inside. Law, Boston, and Sage piled in after him.
“Real, Azrael, Winter, and Black stayed to handle the ranch and follow the tracks. Will is inbound,” Viper said.
“We’ll find him. Dave’s a tough old bird,” Law said, passing over the binoculars to him.
Stone raised them fast, scanning the endless sweep of land.
“Tracks head west,” Black’s voice crackled through the comm. “They got a good hour or two head start.”
The pilot banked hard, the bird dropping low, blades screaming as they tore west across the desert.
Stone’s grip tightened on the doorframe.
When he found Dave, he was going to tie that man down and never let him pull a stunt like this again.
