Page 118 of Every Last Breath

A red timer counted down.

“Checkmate,” she said, indicating they had an active bioweapon. “Delta, we have six minutes, thirty seconds. Do you read me?”

Not enough time to evacuate. It’d only start a panicked stampede. And the garage was a good mile away. Even if her feet were in tip-top condition, she wouldn’t reach the biocontainment receptacle in time, and she couldn’t let the Ghost slip away.

“Roger,” Reece said in her ear. “I’m in the stadium. Section 115.”

“Get to 119.” Maddox spotted Joe Miller, the head of arena security she’d coordinated with upon arrival, entering the area and thrust the weaponized smallpox into his hands. “We have a situation,” she said, ensuring the team heard over the open channel. “That’s a weapon of mass destruction. Don’t let it out of your sight. Only give it to Special Agent Delta.”

She pointed out Reece, who was within sight and closing in.

The guard’s brows shot up and his eyes widened with alarm. “What? Why is this thing counting down?”

She took off after the Ghost, down the stairs closest to the stage.

Two more guards were unconscious at the foot of the steps. Several onlookers in the crowd nearby had their cell phones out, lights illuminated, as if they’d taken video or photos of what’d happened.

She leapt onto the corner of the stage. A thousand tiny fires sparked in her feet. She ducked backstage and collided with a security guard speaking into a walkie talkie.

“Did you see a man run by?” she asked. “Dark hair. White shirt. Press credentials.”

“Yeah. East hall.”

Maddox raced down the backstage steps, drawing her Maxim 9. “Doc, initiate containment protocol and ensure the biocontainment box is ready.”

“Okay,” Doc said.

“Delta here,” Reece said in her ear. “Checkmate secured. No time to attempt disarmament. Headed to Doc.”

Leading with her gun, Maddox tracked the trail of stunned gazes down the east hall.

* * *

Cole chased Novak’s son past concessions. Their feet pounded across the smooth tile floor with Cole gaining ground.

Val ducked into an open elevator, and the doors started to close.

Cole powered through his stride and shoved a boot through the gap in the safety retractors. The elevator jolted and opened. Cole jumped into the cab, taking a defensive stance. He was keyed to the max.

The doors slid shut, sealing them in the metal box. Val charged in a fury, swinging a right hook. Cole swatted the punch and blocked an incoming thrust of a raised knee, then threw a fist that glanced off Val’s jaw without doing damage.

Val power-drove a forearm into Cole’s throat. Sinewy muscle jammed into his Adam’s apple, and his skull smashed against the metal wall. His ears rang, air wheezing through his constricted windpipe. A dark heat rose in his chest, fueling his rage.

This man had helped kidnap Maddox. Helped hurt her.

Cole dug both thumbs into Val’s eye sockets.

With a startled hiss, Val staggered back. Cole slapped the alarm button, jerking the elevator to a halt. He pressed in, drove an uppercut to the man’s chin, knocking him on his heels.

Val’s head snapped back, and Cole pushed on. Not slowing. Not hesitating. He had the Ghost’s son, wanted to smash in his face, hungered to give him a beatdown.

Machine-gun-fire momentum lit through Cole. He drove his knee up into Val’s body as he grabbed the man’s shoulders, hauling him into the sharp thrust. Without giving an inch, Cole smashed the heels of his palms against the man’s ears. Val reared back and slumped to the floor.

Cole’s pulse jackhammered in a haze and his breath came hard. Hellfire pumped in his system. He slammed his boot into Val’s face and body. Once, twice, and kept raining on him.

Bones cracked. Flesh bruised. Blood splattered across the floor, turning it red and slick.

“Mercy!” Val could barely raise a pleading hand. A battered heap of a man, cowering, covered in blood. “My father spared your woman. Showed her mercy.”