Someone screamed, the terrible sound followed by yelling and running. Mayhem. He and Angel startled, but that was it.
One down. If they were lucky, maybe two.
More voices, orders being shouted, footsteps fanning out. They were harder to distinguish now, coming from all sides. But he thought he heard three? Maybe four?
Another yell led to more movement, and for a few odd moments, Coop could feel the ice on their side, helping them.
Absurd, and yet… He pictured the hidden crevasses that he and Angel had bypassed to get here. At least one man had fallen in.
A shot fired. Then another. Angel’s body jumped at every sound, shuddering by the time it stopped.
Shit. They were close. If those assholes found them, they were sitting ducks. He had to think of a way to draw their attention away from Angel.
With a final squeeze of her shoulder, he stepped into what was essentially a corridor, maybe six feet below the surface.
“I’m unarmed.” Every nerve ending buzzing with energy, Coop eyed the ground above. Hunkered beneath the overhang, he slowly moved until he saw them: four dark-clad silhouettes standing out like giant crows against the blue sky. Or chess pieces, lining up to take down the king and queen.
“No shit.” It was Sampson’s voice. The man on the left. And, judging from the side-to-side sweep of his head, he hadn’t seen Coop.
They’ve got no idea where I am.
He could use that. Trick them, get them turned around—lead them away. He just needed time and a lure strong enough to keep them hooked. Coop hurriedly said, “I’ve got the virus.”
Was there an echo in here? Maybe. It made sense that they wouldn’t be able to pinpoint a sound. He tensed, ready to start moving away from Angel so he could draw danger from her, when he noticed Sampson focusing down toward where she hid—ignoring the bait.
This wasn’t going to work. They would find her.
Angel. Shit. His heart was trying to punch its way out of his chest. He only had one card left to play.
“The virus is safe. Far from here.” He stepped out from under the overhang, hands in the air. “You get the coordinates when Angel goes free.”
* * *
“Yeah right.” The sound of Sampson’s laugh was worse than nails on a chalkboard. It pricked up every one of Angel’s hairs, made her want to burrow into the ground and hide.
But then she looked at Ford—fearless warrior, protector, moving out in the open—and hiding was the last thing she wanted to do. No, she’d remain beside him until her last breath. Whatever happened.
“Got you surrounded, you and the girl.”Girl? Who’s he calling a girl?“Ain’t got much of a leg to stand on do you, Cooper?”
Actually, that would be me, she thought hysterically, dangerously close to breaking out into laughter. Or doing something stupid, like calling attention to herself to give Ford a chance to attack.
And that would be pointless against four armed men.
“Maybe not.” Ford was cool as a cucumber. Unbreakable. “But I’ve got five metal tubes hidden. And I’m not giving you the GPS coordinates until she’s safe.”
“Where you reckon safe is right now, huh?” Sampson sounded off in a way she couldn’t quite place. Rough. Desperate. With a forced nonchalance that she’d never heard from him before. “You figure she’d be safer with the mad professor and his test subjects?”
Test subjects?Something queasy turned over in her belly.
“On one of your rides, headed away from here. Alone.”
Silence for a few long seconds raised Angel’s hackles higher, although she wasn’t sure how that was even possible.
“Or we could just shoot—”
“Hurt a hair on her body and you’ll get noth—”
The next few seconds contained a flurry of sounds. Footsteps from more than one direction. Something thudded down on their level. A groan, then another. That was Ford.
