Price pushed him back down. "You're not fine. You were trapped under a steel beam in a collapsed building. You need?—"
"My brother's here somewhere." Gabe shoved Price's hands away and forced himself upright. The world spun. He ignored it. "Cara. They went after Hale and I lost them and?—"
"Gabe, wait?—"
He was already moving, stumbling through debris toward where the stairwell had been, where he'd last seen Cara before the floor split them apart.
Price caught his arm. "You could have internal injuries. Broken ribs. You need to let the medics?—"
Gabe pulled free. "Later."
Price's jaw tightened. Then he nodded once, sharp and decisive. "Fine. But I'm coming with you."
Wade appeared from the smoke and chaos, moving toward them with the same desperate purpose written across his face. Blood ran from a cut on his cheek, and his tactical vest was torn.
"There's a tunnel," Wade said without preamble. "Coast Guard stations always had emergency exits to the water."
Gabe forced the words out through gritted teeth. "Where?"
"Boat house." Wade pointed through the smoke toward the waterfront. "Connected to the main building. Hale wouldn't have hit that trigger without an escape route?—"
Gabe was already running.
Pain screamed through his chest with each step. He didn't care. Couldn't care.
Cara. David. Had to find them.
The covered walkway was intact but barely, swaying like it might collapse at any moment. He crossed it in seconds with Wade and Price right behind him.
The boat house doors hung open. Inside, the smell of salt water and diesel fuel. The rumble of a boat engine already running.
Gunfire cracked from below. Once. Twice. Three times.
Bullets hitting water.
Gabe's heart stopped.Please, Lord. Please.
He found stairs leading down to the boat slips and took them at a run despite the fire screaming through his ribs. Wade was beside him, weapon already drawn. Price right behind them both.
They burst onto the dock level.
Hale stood at the edge of the slip, gun aimed down at the water between the pilings. His back to them.
"Drop it, Hale!" Wade's command cut through the enclosed space.
Hale spun toward them, bringing his weapon up.
Wade fired.
The shot hit Hale in the shoulder, spinning him back. His gun clattered to the dock. He staggered back, hand to his damaged shoulder.
Not a kill shot. Deliberate placement to neutralize the threat.
"Clear," Wade said. His weapon stayed trained on Hale while Price moved forward to kick the gun away and check for other weapons.
Gabe's eyes went to where Hale had been shooting.
There, under the dock, barely visible in the shadows and cold Pacific water—two heads bobbing, gasping for air.
