CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sloane slumped against the pillows, the headboard and railings the only reason she hadn’t toppled out of the bed, landed face down on the floor. A cold, heavy weight suffocated her, the room nothing but a blurry wash of gray on gray. She inhaled, the shallow breath like a jagged needle in her side that burned all the way down to her toes.
The HVAC hummed in the distance, the only source of power still firing. A heady mix of disinfectant and industrial adhesive filled the air, clogging her throat.
Nick grabbed the nurse — hid her limp body behind the monitor stack, muttering something about not seeing through her sooner, moving Sloane before Hill had regrouped. Though, judging on the fogginess clouding her head and the pressure constricting her chest, she hadn’t been stable enough to risk a transfer.
Nick shouldered up beside her, leaned in. “You okay?”
She coughed, damn near passed out as pain sliced through her ribs, dimming the room to a pinhole of distorted shapes. “I’m breathing.”
He winced. “You want a weapon, or would that be an epic mistake?”
“Can’t back you up with just my quick wit.”
He pressed a cold, heavy weight into her hand. “Not your Sig, but it’ll do in a pinch. And that’s all you’re to use it on. Life and death only.”
Sloane cocked her head to the side. “Every part of this is a life or death only scenario.”
“I was reminding you to leave the heavy lifting to me. Brawn, remember?”
“I—”
Movement at the door.
No heavy breathing, no clatter of gear, just a massive shadow filling the doorway. She raised the weapon, muzzle dancing as if she’d gotten hit with an electrical current, her finger slipping off the small safety as she lined up the silhouette melting into the shadows, suppressed barrel leading the way.
Nick grabbed her hand, redirected it. “Easy, sweetheart, it’s Dalton.”
Dalton flowed over to the bed, his large form fading in and out of the darkness. He stopped next to Nick, the man’s gaze drinking everything in. “Had to abandon the coffee when I ran into Hill’s wet squad. They’re leapfrogging the rooms from the south stairwell. We’ve got two minutes, tops.”
“Main wing?”
“Hard-locked with jammers blocking a callout. They triggered the fire panel override — sealed all the suppression doors. They’ve also got the elevators pinned and the main stairwell’s a kill zone.”
Nick nodded, checking his Sig. “Exfil options?”
“One. There’s a service lift that leads to a loading dock. Only way we’re getting down three flights without jumping out a window.”
“Understood.” Nick scooped his arms under her legs and around her back. “This isn’t going to be fun.”
He lifted, the sudden shift on her ribs like a concussive hit. Pain ricocheted through her chest, stealing her next breath as he eased her onto the chair, clipped the belt around her waist. “So you don’t slip out. Tap my hand if you’re really fading. And don’t shoot unless you have to because the recoil…”
Would likely drop her.
He didn’t say it. Didn’t need to with the amount of dots clouding her vision.
Dalton took point, staying a pace ahead, a silent sentry shifting through the dark like a wraith. Nick followed, hovering around her like a shield. One wheel on the chair skittered against the linoleum, the telltale squeak like a beacon to anyone within a hundred yards, until he kicked it, got it spinning. They slipped into the main hallway, hushed scuffs sounding somewhere off to their right. A few scattered emergency lights still glowed down the hallway, the connections likely on a different circuit. Dalton steered them left, sidestepped down to the next junction, then veered right.
Fingers of plastic sheeting hung from the ceiling like ghostly shrouds, the ends fluttering from the swirl of air through the vents. They slalomed through them, the slick material brushing across her face, distorting her vision into a series of strobe-like glimpses — Nick’s massive shoulders looming over her. Dalton appearing and disappearing amidst the shadows.
Something moved ahead of them, slowly sliding through the plastic maze. Dalton held up his fist, pointed to the figure, then flicked on a small mag light, his weapon tracking the motion. A gurney ticked across the hallway, softly bumping into the far wall with a dull thud.
He killed the light, pushed through, bypassing the stretcher, then into an open section. Pieces of drywall hung off the wall, a layer of dust coating the linoleum. Thick cables snaked acrossthe floor, a lone window brightening the space at the end of the hallway.
Nick bumped her across the lines, each jolt igniting the fire in her ribs. She clenched her teeth, tried to shove it down, everything dissolving into the frantic thrash of her heart, the hollow rasp of each breath.
She reached up, intent on tapping Nick’s hand, anything to stop the wave of heat drawing her under, when some asshole in tactical gear stepped through the plastic, night vision covering his eyes, rifle at a low ready.
