"Is that?—"
"Oh no?—"
Buckley pulled out a pistol, chrome gleaming under the ballroom lights.
38
The first shot went wild,shattering a window.
Chaos erupted anew. Civilians who'd been heading for exits now dove for cover. FBI agents shouted commands but couldn't get clear shots with so many people between them and Buckley.
Griff's world narrowed to one objective: get to Sarah.
The guards pinning him had frozen at the sound of gunfire. Griff drove an elbow into the nearest one's ribs, making him double over. The second guard reached for his weapon, but Griff rolled, sweeping the man's legs.
"Ghost is mobile," Maya reported through comms.
The drugs were finally burning out of his system, but his head still pounded from the rifle butt, his shoulder screaming where they'd aggravated the Arlington wound. He pushed through it. Pain was just information.
Buckley was on his knees now, wild-eyed, swinging the handgun from one side of the room to the other.
Griff's chest tightened with panic until he spotted Sarah—behind an overturned table, holding something against her chest. Her hand? Had she hurt herself getting free?
Agents were between her and Pemberton, but she was too close to the man. Buckley had zeroed in on his number 2. The idiot could easily hit Sarah instead….
"I need a clear path to Sarah," he said into his comm, fighting to keep the desperation out of his voice.
"Working on it," Deke replied. "But Buckley's losing it. No pattern to predict."
Pemberton was crawling across the floor, trying to reach another exit.
Buckley yelled, incomprehensible words laced with anger and fear, firing at him. The bullet sparked off marble inches from Pemberton's head. The Treasury official curled into a ball, whimpering.
FBI agents were closing in, but cautiously. "Senator Buckley, put down the weapon."
"Stay back!" He fired toward them, forcing them to cover. "It's all lies. Deep fakes. CGI."
Through his earpiece, Griff heard Ronan coordinating: "Deke, can you get behind him?"
"Negative. Too many civilians."
"Izzy?"
"No angle."
He grunted in frustration.
Buckley saw him. The gun swung his way.
"This is YOUR fault. You and that woman?—"
"Her name is Sarah Winters," Griff said, standing slowly, making himself a target. Drawing Buckley's focus away from her. "And she destroyed your conspiracy with a laptop."
"SHUT UP!"
Another shot. Griff didn't flinch, though it passed close enough that he felt the air displacement. If he could keep the man focused on him, Sarah, and the innocents fleeing the room, wouldn’t suffer.
Behind Buckley, his team moved silently into position—Deke flanking left, Axel right, Maya somewhere he couldn't track. They needed more time. And an opening.
