CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nick coughed, eyes burning, hints of copper and sulfur threading the air. Sparks sprayed across the ceiling and walls wherever the metal reacted to the thermite, more dripping onto the floor.
Tierney shoved him and Sloane aside before grabbing the large mat covering half the room and dragging it off to one side. A hatch gleamed in the overhead light, a thick bolt holding it shut.
She fisted the lever, muscled it sideways, then popped open the hatch. A shiny steel chute plunged into the fog creeping across the rock below, the bottom lost in the sea of mist. A single rope had been anchored to the edge, the line trailing down the length.
She shook out the rope, tugging on it a few times as if testing whether it would hold before sitting on the lip, legs dangling into the abyss. “It’s an old supply slide. Probably hasn’t been used in forty years.”
Nick grabbed the weapons Buck handed him. “Beats fighting our way through a melee of mercs. Please tell me you have a truck or a boat stashed nearby?”
Tierney huffed, swung her rifle across her back. “Do you think I swam here? My truck’s a couple miles down the cliff trail.”
“We have your six.”
Tierney took a breath, a slight twitch of her mouth the only indication she had any reservations as she braced her boots against the side. The soles squeaked as she repositioned her feet, leaving a black smear on the surface before she grabbed the ratty old rope, pushed off into the metal cylinder. She shot down, disappearing into the thick fog, a dull thud finally echoing up through the chute.
Buck followed, all but jumping into the chute before grabbing the rope one-handed, sailing off. He zipped down the line, making it look like a damn carnival ride, then vanished into the gray haze.
Nick knelt beside the opening, grabbed the rope and handed it to Sloane. “You’re next, sweetheart.”
Sloane narrowed her gaze, muttering something under her breath before lowering her ass on the edge. “What about my bag? My laptop?”
“I’ll grab it.”
She looked at him, coughing as more smoke ate up the useable oxygen, turning the air a muddy yellow. “Don’t freaking get shot in the ass, or I swear…”
“Right behind you.”
She pushed off, barely using the line to slow her down as she entered the fog, a low clunk marking her arrival. What he prayed were her boots hitting stone and not her tumbling down into the surf.
Nick darted into the other room, shoved her tablet and laptop into her bag, then returned to the hatch. He slung one strap across his shoulder, slid his weapon across his back when a loud thump hit the lighthouse, the entire structure shakingin response. He slipped, nearly falling down the chute as the iron front door flew across the hallway, hinges scattering like shrapnel, part of the wall caving in from the force. Boots clanged along the walkway, a massive silhouette dressed in black tactical gear just visible in the growing haze.
A round hit the metal beside his hand, a spark glinting off the lip.
Nick drew his Sig, planted three shots into the smoke to scatter anyone who’d gotten too close, then palmed the edge, flew down the chute, boots whining against the sleek surface. He hit the rocky ledge hard, the jolt reigniting the ache in this thigh as he toppled onto his ass, rope fluttering in the wind, more rain already drizzling from the desolate sky.
Sloane grabbed his arm, heaved him upright as a spray of bullets ate up the rock. Buck returned fire, had the men diving for cover before he slapped a charge on the side.
He waved them all back. “Fire in the hole.”
Nick wrapped his arms around Sloane, dropped them both behind a boulder as the fuse sparked, then blew, taking out half the chute. Shrapnel ricocheted off the stone, the slide reduced to a fraction of its length, the jagged ends twisted into large teeth. What would likely shred anyone who tried to follow them down.
Buck stood, helped Tierney to her feet. “That bought us minutes, not safety. We need to move.”
He took off, falling in behind Tierney as she scrambled across the rain-slick basalt face to an adjoining catwalk, the metal structure bolted into the cliff. Nick stopped before stepping onto the corrugated surface, eyeing the sheer drop to his left, how the struts shook, rattling the bolts as they pulled against the anchors, bits of rock dusting into the ocean below.
Sloane fisted his hoodie, yanked him onto the platform, the width barely enough to fit each of them single-file. “I know howmuch you hate catwalks, but just keep your ass moving, or Iwillput a round in it.”
He huffed, smoothing out his sweatshirt as he followed after her. “I don’t hate them, it’s just… This thing likely hasn’t seen any maintenance in the last forty years, either. And I’m not a fan of falling into a seething ocean.”
Sloane glanced over her shoulder. “It only has to hold long enough for us to reach the end.”
“Which is the problem.”
She raced ahead, jumped onto the next section when it shook, tilting off to one side, the bracket bending from the strain. He dove for her, snagging her arm before she slipped between the rails, ended up in the surf. Sloane grasped his other arm, kicking at the algae-slick rock as he pulled from above, finally dragging her back onto the twisted platform.
He waited until it settled, releasing his grip as he shook his head. “Contrary to what you’re probably thinking, I don’t enjoy being right.”
