Chapter Twenty-Two
“Get them out right fucking now!” Will demanded. “That whole section of the building’s structure is compromised. I want everyone out of there.”
“The Detroit team’s already out,” Finn told him. “Luke’s putting three men into position around the perimeter to watch the exits for any of Kozlov’s guys who might still be alive, but I’m not getting a whole lot of movement. Handful of people max. But I still haven’t received any word from Adam or Maddie.”
“Didn’t I give you orders not to go in until I got here?” Will roared, the vein in his temple pulsing with anger.
Finn had the good grace to at least look contrite. “Maddie didn’t want to wait. They’d already had Jack for several hours.”
Will massaged the knot forming in the back of his neck, not sure if he should be furious at his team for disregarding orders or pissed at himself for trying to deal with the Claire situation on his own instead of trusting the Boston team to handle it. If he’d delegated like he should’ve, he would’ve been in Chicago when everything went to shit.
“It wasn’t your call to make, Finn.”
“You’re right,” Finn agreed. “It wasn’t. It was yours. But you weren’t here and we weren’t waiting.” The kid set his jaw and met Will’s gaze. “It wasJack. And if you’d been here there’s no way in hell you would’ve waited for backup. You would’ve been in there right along with Maddie. So instead of chewing my ass out, brah, why don’t we focus on getting our people out before more of them get killed?”
Will stared at the guy for a moment, finding it hard to believe he’d just been schooled by a twenty-six-year-old kid whose main ambition in life was to catch the perfect wave. And yet schooled he’d been. The kid had a point. And if he kept it up he might end up being one of the best recruits Will had ever brought on board . . .
“So what do we have left to work with if you send me in?” Will asked, his tone gruff, but not as harsh.
Finn’s brows shot up, clearly surprised at Will’s change of plans, but then he shook his head, surveying his control board. “My gear’s still in working order, but the readouts I’m getting are shit. I still have the blueprints, but Luke said there were cave-ins when Kozlov’s explosives detonated. I have no idea how to guide you through if I don’t know what you’re going to encounter.”
Will checked the clip in his SIG, then grabbed the M4 he’d set aside when he’d entered the mobile command center, and examined the magazine before slamming it back in. “Guess we’re just going to have to improvise.”
* * *
Never in his life had Jack felt so helpless, so hopeless. Kozlov had been expecting the Alliance—Maddie—to come to his rescue. He’d depended on it. And as much as Jack hated the thought of being gnawed to death by rats, his larger concern was for Maddie and the others. But unless he could get out of this fucking barbed wire there wasn’t shit he could do to stop what was going down.
As if the little bastard had been listening to his thoughts, the rat Kozlov had tossed into the room slunk out of the shadows, sniffing the ground, slowly making its way toward Jack’s chair.
Jack cursed under his breath. This wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined his final hours. Dying in a failed op certainly had always been a possibility, but not in this way—strapped to a chair, naked, beaten, and disfigured by sadistic assholes. But even worse was his concern that in their efforts to rescue him from death, others of his brethren would pay the ultimate price. Jack had always been prepared to lose his life—but never the lives of others.
He zeroed in on the rat, which was dashing back and forth between the splatters of Jack’s blood on the floor, sampling them all in a frenzy.
With any luck the explosion he’d felt rock the building a few minutes before would be followed by another that would go ahead and bury him and prevent anyone—preventMaddie—from finding him this way.
He’d rather she remember him as she’d last seen him, remember the moments they’d shared together, the love he’d never adequately been able to express. He didn’t want her final image of him to be of a man tortured and mutilated. He knew from experience that that kind of memory would haunt somebody forever. He’d rather she not find him at all.
A soft shuffle of movement in the hallway brought Jack’s head up toward the door. A moment later, the heavy latch ground, metal upon metal. Jack’s heart leaped into his throat, momentarily cutting off his breath, when the door swung open and revealed Maddie’s beautiful face. But his relief and the rush of love that brought tears to his eyes vanished when he saw the look of horror and anguish in her eyes as she spotted him.
So much for his last wishes . . .
With a strangled cry, she rushed forward, smacking away the rat that had reached Jack’s injured foot before dropping down in front of him. “Oh my God, my God. Jack. Oh, baby.” Tears trailed down her cheeks as she took in the extent of his injuries. Her hands came up to touch him but hovered aimlessly as if unsure how or where to begin. “What the hell have they done to you?”
“Maddie,” he said, his voice as stern as he could manage. “There are wire cutters on the table.”
She launched herself to her feet and rushed to the table, holstering her sidearm and snatching up the wire cutters. She ran back to his chair, making short work of the barbed wire, wincing with him when she peeled the wires from his skin. Finally released from his bonds, Jack slumped forward, his arms and legs momentarily useless. He most likely would’ve tumbled from his chair had Maddie not caught him in her arms and tenderly cradled him against her for a moment.
When his muscle control returned, Jack pulled back enough to attempt a smile, but considering the way her chin trembled at the sight, he’d apparently failed miserably.
“C’mon,” she said, averting her gaze and attempting to drape his arm around her shoulders, “we’ve got to get you out of here. It sounds like all hell is breaking loose upstairs.”
He managed to get to his feet, but his legs felt rubbery beneath him and he had to lean on Maddie more than he would’ve liked. She groaned, accepting his weight, and tried to help him toward the door. Each step was agony and new sweat prickled his skin, mixing with his blood. Maddie’s hold around his waist slipped and Jack lost his footing, coming down hard on one knee.
Maddie was on her knee next to him in an instant. “Finn!” she barked into her comm. “Finn, do you copy, damn it? I have Jack!”
She hissed a curse and turned her attention back to Jack, gently cupping his cheek and attempting to meet his gaze. “You have to do this, Jack. I can’t carry you out of here.”
“Go,” he told her, shaking his head. “Just leave me here with a gun. I’ll find my own way out, but I don’t want you staying here with me and risking yourself. I’ll be right behind you.”
