This was bad, but she wasn’t helpless. She had her baton. The others were out there. She just had to be smart and careful.
Ekko crept out of her hiding space and into the hall. The skin between her shoulder blades itched. She glanced over her shoulder to find nothing.
Jumping at shadows.
Stop creating problems.
She turned back toward the stairs she knew had to be there and froze.
A man stood there, swathed in shadow and holding a knife.
WEDNESDAY. UNKNOWN, New York City, New York.
Silas pushed his group hard as they traversed the second floor. The sun had fully set, plunging them into complete darkness where there weren’t windows or other lights.
This building was a damn maze, and every turn they needed was blocked by too many people to fight their way through.
There had to be more than the fifteen or so they’d estimated. More like thirty.
This wasn’t good.
What about Ekko? Where had the others gone to?
He’d hoped getting down here meant they would find her and Paxton, but so far all they’d found were a few bodies. At least they knew Paxton and Brett were eliminating the other side. But no one had taken the ammo or guns. Why? When resources were this precious, why not take them?
Could they have gotten free? Did he dare hope?
Something thumped in the darkness. Like a heavy footfall.
Silas cursed himself as he skidded to a stop. He didn’t see anything, but his gut screamed at him. He pivoted and threw himself at Chayan, shoving the other man aside. Silas was moving too slow. He was losing too much blood, and damn it, it felt as though he were hauling around an extra fifty pounds now.
A blast of muzzle fire gave away the shadowy figure’s position.
Silas and Chayan tumbled to the ground.
Vito and Pasley had to fend for themselves. Silas knew he had to focus on Chayan. If he couldn’t go after Ekko, he was damn well going to make sure Chayan survived this.
Bullets ripped through partially hung drywall and ricocheted off metal.
Silas kept his head low while looking around them, taking in their surroundings.
They’d taken shelter behind a pallet of something. It was taking the brunt of the bullets, but there was nowhere else to go.
Answering fire burst from the shadows on Silas’ right.
Pasley.
The man really was with them. He must have picked up a weapon from one of the bodies they’d passed.
There wasn’t time to marvel over this or play it safe. They had to move fast before anyone else came to investigate the noise.
“Stay low,” Silas whispered to Chayan.
Silas pushed up, gun in one hand and a baton in the other.
Pasley leaned out, firing rapidly.
Silas sprinted forward, keeping low, focused on the point where the first shots had come from.
He could practically feel the brush of Pasley’s bullets as he ran.
Silas rammed his shoulder into the heavy barrels the men were hiding behind. He drove the barrels back. He heard the surprised grunts of men. The barrels tipped over and fell.
A man’s legs stuck out from one, almost tripping Silas.
He straightened, raised his weapon and shot at the bit of moving shadow.
The shadow went down with a heavy thud.
He kicked at the legs flailing and heard the scrape of a gun sliding away, out of reach.
Silas drove his knee into the man’s back. It would be easier to kill the man, and if his comrades found him, they’d likely kill him for Silas. But he wouldn’t kill the man if he didn’t have to. He wouldn’t bathe his hands in more unnecessary blood.
Silas quickly bound the man’s wrists to one ankle. It was an uncomfortable pose, that was for sure, but it would also keep the man there.
He checked the other fallen man, only there wasn’t much reason to search for a pulse. Judging by the shot, the man had died the moment the bullet made contact. There was no coming back from a head wound like that.
“Silas?” Vito called out, a thread of worry in his voice.
“What?” Silas whirled and jogged toward the other two now crouched over Chayan.
“I’m fine,” the older man said, though strained.
Pasley shone a flashlight on Chayan clutching his stomach.
A gut wound.
No.
Oh, no.
No, no, no.
When had that happened? Hasn’t Silas shielded the man with his own body?
The clock had well and truly begun. If they didn’t get Chayan out of here soon the internal damage could kill him, to say nothing of the blood he was losing. He didn’t have Silas’ training and experience with pushing through the pain.
There was no more time to lose. They had to get out now, or all of this was for nothing.
WEDNESDAY. PLACE, NEW York City, New York.
Igney kept a tight grip on the wretched woman.
She was the cause of all these problems. All the headaches. Those lives they’d lost.
The so-called protestors had killed good DSS operatives taking the depot, including the man who’d first tutored Igney.
It was all her damn fault.
First her loud mouth made people ask questions. Then she inserted herself into what should have been a good thing for Dauria. They could have helped this wicked world. Instead they would be too busy for the next year putting down problems and squashing dissenters.
It was a waste of valuable time.
He yanked on the woman’s arm for good measure. She staggered and fell to her knees as he descended the last flight of stairs. He didn’t stop, just yanked again, letting gravity help her along. She yelled and cursed at him, but he ignored her.
So what if she was a little worse for wear upon returning home?
They were just going to kill her in the end.
It wouldn’t matter if she could stand, talk or see so long as her death made a statement and put an end to this nonsense. That was his mission. His job. And he’d damn well see it through. He was not about to give up his way of life.
The first floor was abuzz of activity. Where it had been hard to find people to cover the exits above, here they were everywhere. Most of them carried boxes and bags. Some rolled barrels.
They were rats fleeing a ship.
Igney grabbed one man’s sleeve, forcing the man to stop. “Where is the man in charge? Where are my people?”
The man scowled and jerked free.
It had been a longshot to hope they spoke the same language. Pasley had been better with that than him.
Pasley was out there, too.
Igney turned in a circle.
Where was he? What would he be doing?
The woman took this chance to pull herself to her feet. He ignored her so long as she didn’t need minding. Pasley would escape. Or do his best to flee. Igney had been surprised to learn that their captives had taken Pasley with them. It was just another indicator of the man’s guilt and how far he’d fallen.
Igney would never do such a thing.
The woman’s arm twisted in his grasp. He tightened, only too late catching sight of movement in the corner of his eye. He barely had time to move with the impact. Something solid connected with the side of his knee. If he hadn’t been ready for it, the blow might have broken something. Instead he let his knees buckle and grit his teeth against the pain of the glancing blow. He struck out, kicking the woman’s feet out from under her.
They both went to the ground, him rolling on top of her. He caught a glimpse of the fear in her eyes.
He hauled back and slapped her then tore the baton out of her grasp.
She lifted her arms, covering her head.
Not worth his fucking time.
“Igney!” Alban ran toward them. “They said the cops are coming. We need to go.”
“Not before I get what I came for.” Igney dragged himself to his feet and shoved the wo
man at the man. “Get me a radio. Now.”
Alban threw the radio at his waist to Igney.
Igney squeezed the button, speaking over those trying to coordinate escape.
“Pasley, I know you’re out there. You’re listening, aren’t you?” Igney turned in a circle.
Where to lure them?
The main entry was a large space. It gave him line of sight on four entrances.
“Come find me, Pasley, or your little bird dies.”
Igney grinned and waved the man to follow.
He would win this. He would.
WEDNESDAY. UNKNOWN, New York City, New York.
Ekko’s one offensive attempt was an utter failure. Her head spun and she was going to be sick.
This wasn’t good.
She felt like a ragdoll being drug around, first by Igney then another man she didn’t recognize. He spoke Daurian though which could only mean one thing.
He was London DSS.
Her body chilled. Was that from fear or the blows to the head? She didn’t know anymore.
“Come find me, Pasley, or your little bird dies,” Igney cackled into the radio.
She tasted bile.
Pasley had called her little bird back in the park.
Igney cackled like a bad movie villain. The man was enjoying this. He was getting off on torturing them all.
What about Silas?
Pasley was with him.
If Pasley told Silas, if he knew, they would come for her. Silas was determined to bring them all home and to keep her safe. But if he did, if he came to her rescue, Igney would kill them. Igney needed her and Chayan. Which meant he couldn’t kill her here and now. It was an empty threat. Wasn’t it? Did she dare believe this man?
God, her head hurt.
She looked around her, searching the moving forms for some sign of the others. If she could just tell them to leave her, maybe this could still be salvaged.
If she had to die, at least it would mean something. If Silas got Chayan out of here, if they told her story and that of countless others, it would be worth it. She wouldn’t die in silence, she’d scream her story. And people would know. They couldn’t be blind and deaf to the plight of others anymore, because she knew the torch had passed on.
The DSS and their precious president couldn’t squash hope now that it had caught fire. They’d begun something and it would outlive her. It had to.
WEDNESDAY. UNKNOWN, New York City, New York.
Silas thrust the radio at Pasley. “What are they saying? What did he say?”
The grimace on Pasley’s face was enough for Silas to know his gut instinct was right. Whoever that cold voice belonged to, they were speaking to them. He refocused on Chayan who needed his attention now.
“One more time, Chayan. Deep breath,” he said.
Chayan’s face scrunched up.
Silas tightened the band of fabric around the man’s stomach. With luck it would staunch the bleeding for now. It was imperative they get him out soon.
Pasley stared at the radio. “He’s calling for us. Me, really. He says to find him, or she dies.”
Ekko.
Paxton.
The two people who mattered to him most.
Silas embraced the rising panic. He shut his eyes for a moment and breathed in the smell of dust, blood and despair.
Death was always a risk. Every time he’d been sent out, either when they were both still Marines or now, someone could die. But this time it was different.
Paxton went into those situations with the same knowledge and acceptance that Silas had.
But Ekko?
She’d thought all she was doing was taking a trip. Oh, she’d had a glimmer of what kind of danger she’d be in, but she hadn’t truly understood. Not really.
Silas gasped for air as the clawing sense of dread settled in.
Where was Paxton? What about the others? And how was Silas going to save both Chayan and Ekko? Where was their back-up? Why hadn’t Zain called the police, someone, anyone, by now?
“We have to move,” Vito said.
“Yes.” The one word was forced out of Silas’ mouth.
Pasley and Vito moved faster than Silas did. The two of them hoisted Chayan to his feet.
“Stay close,” Silas said.
The ghost of a noise made his body tense.
“Wait,” he whispered, throwing out his arm.
What was that? Where had it come from?
“Silas?” a familiar voice whispered from the shadows.
“Pax?” Silas shone the flashlight toward the sound.
Through the next room in the shadows of a partially built wall were Paxton and Brett. They didn’t look any worse than they had when they’d split.
But there were only two figures.
“What happened to Ekko?” Silas demanded, a chill sweeping through him. Was that from the wound, or fear?
Paxton darted a glare at Brett. “We never could shake them. Got pinned down, told Ekko to run.”
Silas lifted the radio. “They have her. Chayan’s hurt. Bad.”
He wanted to know what that glare meant, but they couldn’t get distracted now.
“What do you know?” Paxton asked.
“This Igney guy, he has her. Downstairs. He’s taunting us.” And damn it if Silas didn’t want to come when called.
“Then let’s go get her,” Paxton said.
“No.” Silas shook his head though it killed him. This was what Ekko would have wanted. He had to honor that first. “We get Chayan out of here, then go back for her.”
Paxton nodded, though the stubborn set of his jaw said he wanted to argue. If anyone could understand it would be him. Coco had sure put them through hell. The woman valued everything and everyone above herself. And here Silas had thought it couldn’t get worse. At least they hadn’t been forced to leave Coco captured.
“Let’s go. Pax, in front with me?”
They fell into a line led by Silas and Paxton. The two hulking men were carrying Chayan though he did his best to move with them. Which left Brett at their rear.
Why did that make Silas nervous?
“What happened?” Silas asked when they had pulled ahead a few yards.
“You do not want to know,” Paxton said in a hard tone.
There would be words later. For now they had to be focused.
“We should split up. Half of us take Chayan out, half stay,” Paxton said.
Silas steeled himself. “Chayan has to be our focus.”
“Damn it, man. I’m not leaving her here and I know you don’t really want to, ether.”
Silas stopped on the stairs and stared at his best friend. “It’s killing me inside to think about leaving her. But I also know this is what she’d want. What she’s sacrificed for. This isn’t just about what I want, Pax.”
He couldn’t love her and not know that.
Paxton nodded and didn’t offer further comment.
Silas gestured for the others to stay where they were while he and Paxton descended to the landing between the second and first floor.
Below them shadows moved. Lots of them. But most were going about, busy on tasks.
He remained still. Watching.
“They’re packing up and leaving,” Paxton said quietly.
Silas nodded.
A group of four rolled a cart weighted down with barrels of something.
The scent of rotting eggs hung in the air.
Silas didn’t want to think too hard about what that meant.
Below, only the two shadows of the men guarding the stairs moved. And they weren’t even watching above.
Silas slid his gun into the waistband of his jeans and pulled out the knife, holding it opposite the baton. Paxton had a similar idea, though he had two knives rather than one.
They didn’t need to speak to know the next move. They just did it.
Together they moved like ghosts down the stairs, not making a sound.
Silas’ foot touch
ed the last stair.
The closest man turned, but Paxton moved first. He grabbed the man, stabbing for the throat. The soft gurgle was muffled, yet unmistakable.
The second man whirled, but Silas was already closing in. He struck out, kicking the man back against the wall and followed him, knife up.
Neither had the chance to go for their guns.
Blood pumped through Silas’ fingers as he stared over his shoulder, searching for more while the man breathed his last muffled breaths. Silas was cold now. Inside and out. He had to be if he was going to get Ekko back. These deaths were regrettable and yet necessary.
“Go. Go now,” Brett whispered.
Paxton muttered a curse under his breath and moved off down a short hall that ended in a door.
Silas grabbed the body and dragged it around under the stairs where Paxton had stashed the other.
“Come on. Quick,” Paxton said.
He held a door open.
The others hurriedly descended the stairs.
Pasley grabbed Brett by the arm and shoved him at Chayan before turning to Silas. Over Pasley’s shoulder he saw Paxton nod at him.
Was this good enough?
“We need to find her,” Pasley said.
Vito and Brett sidestepped through the door, Chayan suspended between them.
Paxton waved at Silas and then the door shut. Paxton would take care of Chayan with the same tenacity that Silas would. Paxton understood the burden.
It was time to hunt a killer and save the woman Silas loved.
21.
Wednesday. New York City, New York.
Igney paced in a circle, looking down each hall in turn.
Where were they? Had he miscalculated? Were they willing to lose the woman so long as they got the man?
His orders were clear. Get both the man and the woman.
The woman was a symbol. Too many young people had taken to the streets because they listened to others like her.
The man though, he knew things.
Killing the woman was personal. Chasing her had cast him in a bad light. But the man was more important in the grand scheme of things.
“Fuck,” Igney muttered. He glanced at a pair of men striding for the doors. “You. Come here.”
The men never glanced at him. Because they didn’t understand him?
Dangerous Connections (Aegis Group Book 9) Page 27
