Deputy Director Cyrus Hill shifted until the headlights cut a swath across the right side of his face. The bastard grinned, looking like a man who’d done the hard math and found the one line he could pencil out. “You always had a flair for the dramatic, Colter. I’ll grant you that much.”
“I’m not the one flanked by an entire shadow squad.”
“You were the best we ever had. That level of competence demands respect. Which is why we’re in this mess. Prague was supposed to be a clean closure. A liability removed during a volatile mission. But in true Colter fashion, you beat the odds, turned the whole bloody mess into a career-ending problem.”
Nick shifted, measuring up the men on Hill’s flanks, gauging which he’d have to take out first to have any chance at getting to Hill. “Did you seriously just call a man’s life a logistics error? An inconvenience that, god forbid, required you to get your hands a little dirty? Kessler’s a person, not a line item you can cross off.”
“Kessler’s a catastrophe. A roadblock that needs to be bombed. And your unorthodox refusal to just let the man die — to follow silent protocol — has cost the agency billions.”
“You arranged the man’s murder because he knew about your offshore accounts. That you’re moving weapons on the black market. That’s not the ‘Agency’s business’. That’s a coverup.”
“Call it whatever you want. It doesn’t change anything.”
Nick shifted, again, a low whop mixing in with the hum of the engines, the patter of the rain against the blacktop. “Answer me this. If you wanted Kessler dead so bad, why send me when you know I’m always willing to go to extremes?”
Hill chuckled. “I think you know exactly why I sent you and Hart.”
The truth hit Nick full force, and he tripped back a step. “The sniper. It was never for Kessler. It was for me and Sloane.”
“Even if I’d kept you out of Prague, sooner or later, you would have stumbled into one of my dealings. You’re both too skilled to keep out of the fray. Two birds, as they say.”
“The sniper — that was the Reaper, too. It’s why he took the contract, travelled here. He owed you for failing, because he never fails.”
“He would have eliminated you if Sloane wasn’t as deadly with a rifle as she is with a keyboard. Which brings us to this moment. I want Kessler.”
Nick shrugged. “I don’t have him.”
“Not here, but you definitely have him tucked away with one of your new teammates. I have to say, your extended family’s impressive. But not impressive enough to save you, so here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to take Sloane with me, and you’re going to hustle back to wherever you stashed the little shit and pack up him and his files. Then, in exactly two hours, I’ll call you, tell you where we’ll make the exchange.”
Nick nodded along, that low growl growing closer. What he hoped was another damn Hail Mary in the making. “If I let you take Sloane, she’s dead.”
“She’s dead either way, Colter. She was the moment you brought her into this. The question is how much do you want her to suffer before that happens? Because I can do a lot of damage in two hours.”
Nick looked over his shoulder. Sloane had crawled between the seats, her eyes tracking his. She lifted her hand, grabbed something on the overhead console. He shifted his gaze to Bodie. His buddy twirled his fingers, then held up a single one.
Nick nodded, turned back, glancing at the puddles, how the surface rippled every few moments from a heavy vibration. The same one he felt deep in his chest.
He flexed his hand, faced Hill. “After careful consideration, I’m going to have to pass. But if you’d like to surrender, I’m all-in.”
Hill’s cockiness faded, his hands balling into fists at his side. “Fine, we’ll do it the bloody way.” He motioned to the men at his side. “Gentlemen?—”
Light.
Cutting through the darkness from above, the overpowering brightness burning the loading bay into a blinding wash of white as Foster’s chopper climbed up over the hospital’s roof, dropped down into the bay like a bird of prey. Crushing downwash swept across the pavement, whipping dirt and stones through the air. The side doors slid open, two figures peeling out on ropes, firing off controlled rounds as their feet hit the ground.
The engine in the SUV blew, steam pouring out from the hood, tires popping and hissing. Bodie and the others joined in, canister skipping across the asphalt, erupting into smoke and sound. The siren on the ambulance wailed to life, the strobe lights reflecting off the rain and the puddles.
Nick took off the second the helicopter crested the roof, pushing up the incline, arms pumping, his deep-seeded rage spurring him on. He didn’t draw his weapon, counting on his brothers to have his back as he zeroed in on Hill.
Gunfire erupted around him, men dropping and running as his teammates pushed ahead. Nick stayed focused on Hill, quickly closing in on him.
The man slumped against the hood, the visual and auditory overload rattling his head. He took a staggering step, tried to reach for the Glock tucked in a holster beneath his jacket as Nick closed the distance, slammed into him like a man possessed. They bounced off the grill, tumbled onto the ground, smacking the wet pavement with a resounding slap. Hill got in a quick elbow, knocked out some of Nick’s air, but he recovered, grabbed the bastard by the neck. He surged to his feet, his hand wrapped around Hill’s throat as he tossed the guy against the hood, again, pinning him with his forearm.
He leaned in an inch from Hill’s face. “Fuck you.”
One hard strike, and the man jerked back, slowly sliding down the vehicle and onto the wet pavement.
Nick braced his weight on the hood, tried to clear the scatter of dots, when a gun cocked beside him. He snapped his gaze around as one of Hill’s operatives staggered to his feet, pistol aimed at Nick. Nick reached for his Sig when a blur of black fur raced up the incline, hitting the guy like a battering ram. Teeth flashed in the dark, a menacing growl vibrating the air as the guy screamed, tried to kick the dog off.
