Two small pops sound in the distance, and we take off at a run. Ten seconds later, light pours from all the windows as the backup generator comes on.
“One heat signature headed for the basement,”Ripper says over comms.“The second is staying in the hall.”
Fuck. If he’s not running, then he’s pretty sure he can beat us. Though he probably expects Q’s brother or one of Connor’s guys. Not an entire team of highly trained and lethal mercenaries.
West slams a small battering ram into the front door, and the hinges whine as they protest the assault. A second hit cracks the wood and we’re through. We take up flanking positions as we head for the hall, and another crash comes from the back of the house behind the kitchen.
A burst of gunfire sends us dropping to the floor. Full auto. Likely an AK-47. Bits of wood and plaster rain down as we creep closer to the hall.
“Give it up, asshole!” West shouts, then tucks and rolls ten feet to his right. More shots hit the floor where he’d been seconds ago.
“If you want to live, leave now.” The man’s voice carries the bravado you only get from a hell of a lot of training.
I don’t care how good you are, fuck face. We’re better.
A metal canister rolls down the hall, and before I can react, someone slams into me, covering my head. The sound is deafening. My ears ring, and the entire world spins. Despite what I think is a very big, very pissed off former Special Forces team leader lying on top of me, the bright light burns my eyes.
And then the weight lifts. Hands yank me to my feet. Everything in the house has a second or third shadowy echo from the flash bang. I can’t hear a damn thing, but the taps to my shoulder are clear.
Use the senses you have and stay to the left.
Gripping my M4 with steady hands, I follow West down the hall. “Now,” he mouths, and over the ringing in my ears, I can just make out the windows shattering at the other end of the house.
“Fuck. Alec! There are more of them!” The squawk of a Walkie-Talkie is unmistakable, even with the residual ringing in my ears. At least we know who’s shooting at us. But that means Alec’s in the basement with Q.
Another squawk, and my world comes skidding to a halt. “Tell them if they want Quint to live, they’ll leave. Right now.”
Q’s pained whimper is the single worst sound I’ve ever heard, but West grabs my forearm, the pressure of his grip keeping me centered.
“Get the fuck out of here or the kid dies,” Dennis shouts.
The high-pitched whine in my ears has finally faded away, and I know where this asshole is. With a quick glance at West, I tell him exactly what I need him to do in three hand signals, and he nods.
The second I raise my weapon, he takes off, darting through the hall and into the master bedroom. Dennis fires in his direction, and I round the corner. Two shots. One center mass, the second through his skull, and he slides to the floor in a heap.
Snatching up the Walkie-Talkie, I press the button. “Give it up, Harrow. You won’t win.”
West, Ryker, and Raelynn join me in front of the solid metal basement door. It’s too heavy to be opened with the battering ram and secured with an electronic keypad.
West relays the make and model to Wren and Ryker grabs the Walkie-Talkie.
“Listen, fucker. If you don’t give yourself up, I’m going to flay the skin from your balls before I kill you.”
“I don’t know who the hell you are,” Alec growls, “but I don’t need to keep Quint alive. I already own his company.”
“Base—”
Wren stops me before I even ask. “Base Two is on it, Golf.”
Ripper knows more about online financial systems than pros who’ve been in the business for decades. If anyone can make sure Alec doesn’t have a claim to Q’s company, it’s Rip.
Ryker chuckles into the mic. “You need him alive to get yourself out of there, Harrow. Otherwise, you’d be gone. So why don’t you be a good piece of shit and give up now.Beforewe put an end to you.”
Raelynn shoulders past Ryker and starts tapping on the wall. “Idiot,” she mutters. “Right here.” Pounding her gloved fist five inches to the right of the lock, she steps back and stares at Ryker expectantly. “Well? Punch a goddamned hole, Romeo.”
Ry glances at West, who shrugs. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen a reinforced door in a shitty frame.”
The small, metal ram sinks deep into the wallboard, and Ryker opens up a hole six inches tall and at least that wide, then reaches his whole arm in.
