“Trevon, what’s the backpack status?” Maverick asked.
“All clear,” Trevon replied.
Maverick scanned the attendees. The constant movement in the back of the room snagged his attention. Catering staff scurried to refill coffee carafes, a few people chatted by the elevators. Things were as he anticipated. The executive addressing the audience touted how this was going to be the year for Qualitation. Maverick tuned out the speech to study the faces. He’d been trained to watch for any sudden movements, anyone pulling something from a pocket. With cell phones in use, Maverick’s attention was in continual motion.
“I’ve got a four-door sedan that’s circled the parking lot twice.” Gunner’s steady voice rumbled in his ear.
On instinct, Maverick wrapped his fingers around his weapon while studying the crowd. No one appeared uneasy.
“Disregard,” Gunner said. “It parked out back.”
Clank! One of the caterers dropped an empty plastic water pitcher and the loud crash made several jump.
The audience broke into applause as one Qualitation exec replaced another at the podium.
“The four-door sedan is on the move again,” Gunner said. “Single occupant. Male.”
Maverick moved toward the front door. “Position?”
“Northwest side of building,” Gunner replied. “All eyes on target. He’s circling the parking lot again.”
“Is the lot full?” Maverick asked.
“Affirmative in the front, but there are spaces in the rear,” Gunner replied.
Silence for another moment.
“He’s driving toward the courtyard. Gaining speed. He’s barreling toward the building. I’ve got to stop him.”
Maverick bolted toward the front door as Gunner opened fire.
As the vehicle sped toward the building’s lobby, people started screaming and running in every direction.
Fueled by adrenaline, Maverick grabbed his Glock and ran outside.
“I hit him,” Gunner said. “He must have rigged the gas pedal. I’m on the way down.”
The chaotic scene faded into the background. Maverick heard nothing but the sound of his controlled breathing as he aimed at the gas tank and fired repeatedly.
The car exploded in a burst of flames, metal and glass went flying in every direction. The force propelled Maverick backwards. He hit the ground and rolled away, protecting his head from flying debris.
After grabbing his weapon, Maverick tried pushing to his feet, but searing pain had him dropping to his knees. Fuck me. “Gunner. I’m down.” In addition to a bloodied hand, his shoulder had become dislocated.
“I’m in the staircase,” Gunner said into his earpiece. “Where are you?”
“Out front.” Gritting his teeth, Maverick forced himself to stand. “Penelope, find the security guard in charge before you grab your five.”
“Copy that,” she replied.
Gunner ran over. “Talk to me.”
“My shoulder.”
“Hell, no, not again?”
Maverick winced from the pain shooting down his arm. “Again.”
“I’ve got my five execs and am heading toward the back stairs,” Trevon said.
