CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sloane stood just beyond the isolation doors, the sliding steel bulkheads locked tight. A thick feeling dulled all but the white-hot burn in her side, the carbon dioxide still wreaking havoc with her mind.
Bodie tried the door, putting all his weight behind it before he slammed his fist against the metal. “Fucker won’t budge.”
She nudged Nick, motioned to the wall panel. “I’ll try to bypass it.”
The men looked at her, eyes wary, hands fisted into balls at their side before Nick grabbed the drag handle on the back of her vest, braced most of her weight as they crossed the floor. She popped off the panel, plugged her tablet into a port, started altering codes and switches. Less than a minute, and she had the doors open, the other suppression shutters locked behind their panels.
Nick moved into her personal space as she turned, tucked the tablet into her vest. “Even half-dead, you’re incredible. I meant what I said before. Don’t ruin everything by dying on me.”
She stared up at him, noting the tight press of his lips, how the muscle in his temple jumped. He looked raw, feral, a wild animal only a threat away from going rogue. The same look he’dhad in Prague right before he’d stepped in front of that bullet. “Not getting rid of me that easily, baby. Besides, I couldn’t let you take all the hits. I still owe you for Prague.”
“Consider the debt settled. C’mon.”
He grabbed the handle on her vest again, an immovable mountain glued to her side as he balanced her weight without slowing her down.
They struck off, each step radiating a deep, throbbing ache through her side, but at least she wasn’t on the floor — or dead weight in Nick’s arms. They quickstepped down the corridor, dodging through the sections with the oscillating shutters before stopping at the main doors connecting them to the north wing — the section Buck, Avery, and Tierney had been keeping clear.
Dalton tried the badge Sloane handed him, the keypad flashing confirmed, then denied, cycling through both options as the light pulsed green, then red.
Buck rushed to the other side, trying to force it from his end before motioning them back. He slapped on a charge, showed the count on his hands. Nick cursed, retreated to a safe distance, then curled over her, shielding her from any possible hit.
The charge blew with a concentrated slap, the hinges on each side shredding. The metal twisted inward, breaking the glass as the units collapsed outward. Dust and debris billowed into the air, swirling amidst a cloud of smoke. A high-pitched whine echoed around them, adding to the carbon dioxide induced headache already pounding through Sloane’s head.
Nick coughed, waving away some of the smoke as he steadied her, got them moving before the dust settled. They emerged through the wreckage, boots crunching on broken glass, his weapon at a low ready.
Avery met them halfway, gaze dropping to her side. “What the hell?”
Sloane coughed, would have doubled over if Nick hadn’t kept her upright. “It’s not that bad.”
“You’re soaking through a pressure dressing. Nick’s hands are red up to his damn wrists.”
“Honestly, I’m…” Sloane sighed. “We can discuss it later.”
Avery scowled, looked as if she might keep arguing before sighing. “Foster just radioed. Says there’s tracer fire and snipers on the hospital building, and he doesn’t want to risk a basket pickup. The only open area where he can toe the chopper in without putting a giant bullseye on everyone’s backs is the south service wing. But the entire building’s on lockdown. Not sure which way gives us the clearest shot out in what little time we still have.”
Sloane turned toward the nurse’s station. “I need to get behind the firewall. See what he’s doing in real time.”
Nick muttered under his breath as he angled her over, standing watch as she entered the interface, hacked through the Reaper’s security protocols and into his code. The scenery swam, pieces fading in and out of focus as she scrolled through a series of folders, that ticking clock riding her ass.
She stopped, zoomed in to a section a few flights up. “Here.” She tapped on the screen. “There’s a suspended catwalk between the north and south wings that leads to the service stairwell which accesses the roof. It’s got the least number of systems the Reaper can overload and should put us in line with Foster’s landing zone.”
Nick cringed. “I don’t know. The last time I tried to cross a bridge like that, it didn’t end well.”
“And neither will this one if we’re still standing in the middle of it in ten minutes.”
He glanced at his team, then pointed to the screen. “Show us the way.”
She mapped out the route on her tablet, handed it to Avery to navigate, then pushed off in order to get her legs moving, her carbine hanging at her side. Nick fell into step beside her, shadowing her every move, one hand on that handle, the other holding his rifle. They crossed the room, continued down the left corridor, then over to another set of doors.
Dalton swiped the badge, looking back at them when they opened without hesitation. “Anyone else think that was way too easy?”
He struck off, weapon at the ready, when the lights winked out, red emergency strobes flashing a moment later. The door behind them clicked, the light burning a steady crimson, as a hiss sounded from above.
Bodie coughed. “Anyone else smell that?”
Tierney gagged, drew the neck of her shirt over her nose. “I’ve smelled that before. It’s likely something like Sevoflurane. It’s used in general anesthesia. It won’t kill us, but it’ll drop us if we inhale too much.”
