I roll my eyes.
“You need to take cover.”
“No shit!” I whisper-hiss as I grab my bag from the corner. I sling it over one shoulder and take a turn around the ground level. Stone walls. Nothing else, nothing more. No pillars supporting the structure, so I have no way of knowing where it’s strongest and might withstand the explosion.
“What are you doing?” Con asks.
“Climbing back up,” I answer because I doubt anyone can hear me. If they’re near me, they’re going to die in the explosion too.
“Whatever for?”
“How much time do I have?”
“Errr, I don’t know when they’ll blow it. Soon, I should think.”
“Estimate.”
“Seconds. I think they’re waiting for the convoy to clear.”
“What convoy?”
“The one Endo’s chasing. But you already know that, don’t you, Declan? Instead of getting the hell out of the nest as soon as Dad’s head hit the ground, you watched the aftermath.”
“Endo came under fire.”
“That’s his problem, not yours. You were supposed to exit instantly. Now your exit has no lube and you’re going to bleed.”
I burst out onto the roof of the tower and unhook one end of the rope extension from my waistband. I loop it around the flagpole. Bullets whistle past me as their gunmen try to take me down.
I rip the pin from a smoke grenade with my teeth and throw it, then jump after it. My rope isn’t long enough to reach the bottom, so halfway down, before the rope tightens and slams me against the stone side of the tower, I unhook myself and free-fall.
The dynamite blows.
The explosion hits the back of my body, propelling me forward. I land hard on my right side, hurting my right leg and hitting the side of my head on something. I do my best to stay conscious and in control, but my ears… I can’t hear a thing.
My vision blurs.
Damn it.
Con’s muffled voice jars me back from going under. “Dec. Declan. Get up and run. Do you hear me? I know you’re not dead. I can feel your heart beating.”
No matter what kind of woo-woo Connor’s into at any given moment, there’s no way he can feel my heart beating. He’s sitting in front of a computer monitoring my heartbeats, so he knows I’m alive.
Barely.
There’s smoke everywhere. Dizzy, I push up on my arms and cough. I hear the sirens, which means I have to get out of here. But for once, the cops are useful. All the bad guys are fleeing thescene, too worried about being arrested to hunt me. They can do that tomorrow.
I sit up and shake my head before attempting to stand.
And I fall.
“What are you doing?” Con asks.
I rise again and wipe the liquid coming out of my right ear. It’s blood. The explosion ruptured my eardrum. The vision in my right eye remains blurred. I probably have a concussion. I try to take a step, and my leg folds at the knee.
I look down and see I’ve got a broken or sprained ankle.
“Get out of there!” Con shouts, but my busted eardrum muffles his voice. I know he’s shouting because I know my brother better than I know myself. Or anyone else in the world.
