She hurried over and slipped her hands beneath the bottom crate, her mind on Tace. He should’ve gained consciousness by now. This was a bad sign.
“Where’s Justice?” Jax ran back inside and tucked handguns into a backpack.
“Out cold,” Raze said, leading the way with the crate.
“Is Barbara covering the road?” Jax asked.
Sami grabbed his arm. “No. She was hit and didn’t make it. She’s in the front of the truck bed.”
Jax faltered, and his face lost all color. He drew in air, and fury lit his brown eyes. “Copy that.”
Sami shivered. The Vanguard leader felt every death as if he’d caused it. “Barbara was a soldier, Jax. She knew the risks.”
Jax didn’t answer but tossed the backpack as well as what looked like grenade launchers and a couple of weird missile-looking things into the back of the truck by the boxes. Gunfire erupted all around them. “Sami, go now with the truck. We’ll follow up.”
She slammed the tailgate into place and hurried around the truck.
“Wait at rendezvous point B for thirty minutes,” Jax yelled, running toward the other end of the shack. “If we’re not there, get to Vanguard.”
“Avoid Mercenary territory,” Raze bellowed, taking the other side.
Sami yanked open the driver’s-side door just as pain exploded in her shoulder. Blood sprayed from her to coat the metal. Her vision wavered, her stomach rolled, and darkness fell.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Some men are destined for greatness, while othershunt it down and make it submit.
—President of the United States Bret Atherton
Tace awakened the second Sami fell, and his brain instantly kicked into gear. Gunfire roared all around them, and an explosion rocked the earth yards away. “Fuck.” He plunged across the seat and grasped her arms, yanking her inside the cab. A quick glance into the truck bed confirmed they were carrying every sort of explosive imaginable as well as Barbara’s body. “Double fuck.”
He set Sami across the seat with her head in his lap and quickly twisted the ignition. Yanking the door shut, he punched the gas. “Sami?”
She didn’t move, and blood covered the front of her shirt.
Bullets pinged into the side of the truck, and the back window shattered.
The rear end fishtailed, but he kept up the pressure, driving the vehicle between a series of trees and down the dirt road. His stomach hurt, and needles poked the back of his eyes, but he shoved the pain away. “Sami!”
Nothing.
How long had he been out? He drove faster and weeds scraped the truck. Wind and smoke billowed in through the shattered window, and glass cut down his neck. Where was everybody?
He tried to gather as much of Sami as possible in his lap to protect her from the glass, feeling her neck for a pulse. Good. Strong and steady.
Two four-wheelers barreled out of the forest, and shock took him for one instant as he recognized the president and vice president. They were joining in the fight? The VP was known to be a soldier, but the president usually hid behind shields.
No more, apparently.
Vice President Lake, his blue eyes sizzling, drew out an automatic weapon.
“Shit.” Tace jerked the wheel and pressed his foot down as hard as he could, aiming straight for the asshole. The truck bumper clipped the four-wheeler and it spun out of control, tipping end over end, leaving Lake crumpled in a heap. One down.
The president fired a gun, and something exploded. The truck jumped into the air, and Tace fought to keep it straight. They landed hard, swerved, and skidded into a tree. They rocked, and glass sprayed down his back. Fuck. The president had shot out a tire. When had the bastard gotten so damn brave?
Tace jumped from the truck, his hand going for his gun . . . which wasn’t there.
Atherton rolled to a stop, his gun pointed at Tace’s head. “Tace Justice,” he murmured, shoving designer sunglasses up his nose.
