by Stasia Black
Drea pushed Jonathan off her and went to her friend, taking Gisela in her arms. Jonathan shook his head. They didn’t have time for any of this.
If the intruders were already in the building, then it was only a question of time before they found their way into the newer section. The hallways might be maze-like, but the building wasn’t that big. The MC fighters would stumble on them eventually. They needed to get out. Now.
Jonathan looked back toward the stairwell down to the basement Mission Control. Where the hell was David?
Gisela kept reaching for the radio. “You don’t know they’re dead! We need to know what’s happening.”
“Enough,” Jonathan said with one last glance back toward the basement. “Franco, get her up. We go for the back exit. David will be right behind us.”
Franco nodded and together, he and Drea got Gisela to her feet.
“Keep her quiet,” Jonathan whispered harshly. “And turn off your flashlights. If we can stay quiet and stay dark, we’ll have the tactical advantage. Now, form a line, hand on the back of the person in front of you.”
They more or less did as Jonathan instructed, and one by one, clicked their flashlights off. Gisela’s flashlight had to be pried from her hand and Jonathan was relieved to see Drea take her gun back as well.
Jonathan pulled on the night vision goggles he’d brought and reached for Drea.
“What are you waiting for?”
Jonathan looked over his shoulder to see David suddenly appear from the stairwell and had to bite back his furious frustration, especially when he saw the large backpack on his back and a second bag slung over his shoulder. Really? He’d been down there grabbing supplies and wasting precious minutes when his men were up here losing their lives?
Whatever, Jonathan couldn’t afford to think about it now. He had a single mission—to get these people out of here alive.
Jonathan tugged on the strap of his machine gun, swinging it around to grab in his hands. He lifted it expertly to his shoulder and looked down the sight. He kept one finger on the trigger as he guided his team toward the back exit. He led the line down the hallway.
The silence after the arguing and gunfire over the walkie, along with the sudden and complete darkness of the inner hallways, all gave Jonathan the uneasy feeling of stepping into a different world. Or like waking only to find yourself in another dream. Or in this case, a nightmare.
Except Jonathan felt plenty awake with the adrenaline surging through his veins. They came to a T in the hallway.
Turn right. Jonathan remembered Eric’s instructions, plus he’d looked at the blueprints for the building while he was downstairs.
He visualized them in his head. The path out was easy. Right, left, right.
They were far closer to the back exit than anyone coming through the door to the new building would be, especially since they’d be disoriented by the labyrinth of hallways. Unless of course whoever it was had been here before and knew there was a fairly clear path to the back exit if one took the third right and went all the way down the long hallway that ran the length of the building…
Jonathan quickened his steps as he turned the corner and kept his crouch low, always conscious to go slow enough so the person holding on to his back—Drea, he thought?—didn’t lose their grip.
Okay, so far so good. Here came the next left. He slowed down, peeking his head around, heartbeat ratcheting up about five hundred times its normal rate.
But there was nothing. No footsteps, no voices, no light from flashlights. Just more green-tinged darkness through his goggles.
He hurried around the corner, pausing only long enough to make sure he hadn’t lost the person he was leading. The slight tug on his tactical vest told him that yes, he was still being closely followed.
Jonathan didn’t breathe any easier, though. If by some chance the intruders did know to take the other path, this was where they’d meet up, coming from the opposite end.
But halfway down this hallway was where the alcove to the back door branched off so there was no avoiding it.
They’d be fine. They were moving fast enough. They’d get there in—
“Where these fuckers at?”
In the distance, light flickered, illuminating the end of the hallway.
Fuck.
The bikers were coming—from down the long hallway just like he’d feared.
Jonathan gauged the distance to the alcove in the dim light. Thirty feet. They might be able to make it before the bikers rounded the corner and started shooting.
Drea. His wife. His family.
Might wasn’t good enough.
“Run for it!” David whispered from the back of the group even as Jonathan turned and grabbed Drea roughly, pulling both her and consequently Gisela, who Drea was gripping, into one of the destroyed offices off the hallway.
Billy, Eric, and Garrett came too and finally, Franco and the other two soldiers. David was last and even though Jonathan couldn’t see his face in the darkness, he could feel his General’s fury. Not once in almost a decade had he ever defied a direct order.
But what the fuck was David thinking having them try to run for it? He could have gotten them all killed! And earlier, taking so goddamn long downstairs. They would’ve been out the back door already if he wouldn’t have stopped to stock up on whatever the hell was in his precious bags.
All Jonathan knew was that he had new priorities now and until he knew David’s heart was in the same place, he couldn’t blindly follow him anymore. Not when the lives of his new-found family were at stake.
Less than ten seconds later, beams of light flashed down the hallway past the office where they were hidden. See? They never would have made it to the alcove.
Or… would they have? If Jonathan and David had opened fire as they’d gone, making the bikers back up long enough for their group to get to the alcove and out the back door? Dammit. Maybe David was right and Jonathan had just fucked them over majorly.
Jonathan’s mouth twisted down. He hated this. Not trusting David. It was all wrong. But if David was making the wrong calls, someone had to question them.
There was no going back, though. In the dim light provided by the distant flashlights, Jonathan could see Drea shielding Gisela with her body and Eric trying to shield Drea. Billy and Garrett moved between them and the door. Jonathan joined David and the other soldiers standing in attack formation just inside the door.
David might be equally pissed at him, but they’d been in battle together too many times for him to address it now. David lifted a fist and then held up five fingers. Jonathan and the others nodded as they waited out the countdown.
The voices continued getting louder and the light brighter.
Five.
Four.
“Did you hear that girly scream over the radio? I call first dibs.”
Three.
“Fine but don’t wear her out. I want her tight when I tear into that little bitch’s cunt.”
Two.
“Well, I’m gonna—”
The fucker never got to finish his sentence because Jonathan and Franco leaned out of the office and fired their machine guns in the direction of the light.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
DREA
Gisela let out a terrified squeal as the firefight began and Drea clamped a hand over her mouth. Drea hugged the girl to her, praying for the forgiveness she knew she didn’t deserve.
People you love and trust will only let you down and hurt you—it was a truth Drea knew as deep down as the cigarette burn scar on her left forearm from that time Mom came after her during one of her meth rages.
But as Drea looked down into Gisela’s terrified eyes, she realized this time it was her, Drea, letting down the people who trusted her.
Because she should have known exactly how stubborn Gisela would be. She’d seen it in the defiant look in Gisela’s eyes last night. Of course the girl had found a way to stowaway and come on the mission after all. Pro
bably in some foolish attempt to impress Drea. And it might get her fucking killed.
Then there was Billy. What the fuck had she been thinking letting him come? Someone back in the caves could have babysat him to make sure he stayed away from the medicine stash. It could have so easily been him she watched killed on that satellite feed.
Even Eric. He could have drawn out the directions to the secret room. He had a broken arm for Christ’s sake. He had no business being on a mission. Okay, so whatever he’d done to get that last secret panel to open the lever to the stairwell had been somewhat specific—still, he could have walked them through it over the sat phone.
There was absolutely no need for all of them to come here. For all of them to die.
Drea’s chest clenched and her hand tightened around the handle of her Glock. She consciously relaxed her finger on the trigger, though. God, the last thing they needed right now was her accidently shooting Jonathan or Garrett or one of the soldiers in the ass. They were in enough trouble without her adding friendly fire into the mix.
Drea kept her eyes locked on the door. She could barely make out who was who in the darkness—the men were just silhouettes against the flashlight lights in the hallway beyond. She watched tensely as one of the men shifted positions, leaning slightly further out to continue shooting as another pulled back to reload his cartridge.
Gisela’s shrill scream pierced Drea’s ear as one of the men at the door dropped to the floor like a stone.
Oh God, no. All the breath whooshed out of her chest. Jonathan! Was it Jonathan?
And just like that, Drea was back in that damp basement ten years ago.
Her father was being forced onto his knees in front of her.
His watery eyes searched for hers in that last moment as Thomas’s father stepped up behind him and raised the gun to the back of his head and—
“Franco!” Gisela shouted, weeping and struggling to get out of Drea’s arms. It was enough to pull Drea back to the moment and stem the tide of her own demons before they flooded her.
And for her to see that the body Garrett had tugged back into the office wasn’t Jonathan after all. It was Franco, their driver, the man with the ten-thousand-watt smile and a thousand corny jokes. Billy was leaned over him, fingers to his neck. But he pulled back, shaking his head.
No. She wanted to deny it even as the evidence was so clear right in front of her. Franco couldn’t be dead. Just a few hours ago he’d been laughing and telling dumb jokes and—
“Down,” David shouted before throwing something into the hallway. Jonathan lunged toward her, shielding her and Gisela with his body as a huge BOOM! erupted in the hallway, shaking the walls.
“Go, go, go,” David shouted, waving his arm toward the door.
Then Jonathan was grabbing Drea’s elbow, and Garrett and Billy were helping Gisela to her feet and then they were all moving toward the door.
Drea could barely feel her legs. Everything was moving too fast. Too loud.
Get it together, Drea. Gisela needs you. Jonathan and David and Billy and Garrett and Eric need you.
She took a deep breath and pulled away from Jonathan, then reached for her Glock. David’s grenade might have taken care of whatever immediate threat was outside the office but they were far from safe.
Jonathan looked her way, barely visible in the dim light. At least one flashlight must have survived. She gave him a sharp nod. She was fine. She wouldn’t fall to pieces on him.
He and David took the first step into the hallway, machine guns to their shoulders. They didn’t fire immediately though, so Drea guessed there weren’t any bikers left standing.
She followed with the rest of her clan and Gisela, stepping far clear of Franco’s body. She forced her eyes straight ahead so she wouldn’t look down and see him. That didn’t stop her boot from slipping in his blood though.
Drea swallowed against the rising bile and forced herself onward into the hallway. And holy shit. Yeah, no wonder no one had survived that blast. In the destruction of what was left of the hallway, visible by the light of one flashlight that had gotten thrown free of the rubble, it was clear no one had survived the blast. Bodies littered the floor, the walls were blown outward, and broken pipes hung from wrecked ceiling tiles.
Jonathan hurried through the rubble and bodies and Drea followed, letting Garrett move ahead so she and Billy could help Gisela keep moving, each of them taking one of her arms.
“Just ten more feet,” Jonathan called back. “Turn right and there’s the door.”
But almost immediately after he spoke, more light appeared ahead.
Fuck. Drea felt her eyes widen even as she started running, all but dragging Gisela with her.
Drea swung Gisela in front of her at the last moment and shoved her the last few feet towards the alcove before taking a diving leap for it herself.
In the second before she cleared the hallway, pain exploded across Drea’s shoulder like a spike had been shoved through it.
Hearing the gunfire came second.
Everything swam.
The darkness, the shouting, gunfire.
Hands pulling at her.
“Drea! Shit! She’s been hit!”
“We’ve got to get the hell out of here. Now!”
“You know they’ll be waiting out there for us. There’s no way they aren’t covering the second exit.”
“Fuck. FUCK.”
“Back. Go back!”
“We can’t. They’re right on our asses!”
And then blinding light as a door was opened to sunlight, but only for a moment. It was shut just as quickly.
Boom.
It was more distant this time than it had been in the hallway.
Every second that passed, Drea became more and more aware of what was going on again. She tried to sit up, blinking and wincing against the pain in her shoulder.
“No blood. There’s no blood!” Billy’s voice. “I think her jacket caught it.”
“Great. So let’s get her the fuck up and get the hell out of here.”
Drea lifted a dazed hand to her head as Billy helped her to her feet. “Gisela,” she said, looking around. “Where is Gis—”
“I’m here,” Gisela said, weeping. “Oh thank God. Thank God you’re all right. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I came when you said not to. I’ve slowed you down every step of the way. I’m sorry. Please, I’m sorry.” Her words barely made any sense through her sobs. “All I ever wanted was to be like you. To be strong like you. I didn’t want them to have broken me. They didn’t break you. But I’m not strong. I’m weak. They did break me. I’m sorry. Oh God, I’m so sorry.”
Drea shook her head, still blinking and trying to get her bearings as she reached for Gisela. “It’s fine. Let’s just get home safe. You are strong. You are.”
Gisela shook her head, tears running down her face. Drea put her arm around her both to comfort her and for steadiness even though Eric and Garrett were holding her up already.
David pushed the back door open again.
After being in darkness for so long, the light hit Drea like a knife straight to the brain, but she pushed forward anyway.
“I’m fine,” Drea said, pushing off of Eric and Garrett. “I’m okay. I can walk.” She heaved herself out the door with Gisela, lunging to grab hold of the railing beside the stairs. She kept her eyes down on her feet, half stumbling, half falling down the stairs, only managing to stay upright because of her iron grip on the railing. She and Gisela miraculously kept one another up somehow.
Even in the twenty seconds it had taken to get to the bottom of the stairs, her eyes had grown more and more used to the light.
Enough so that when she finally lifted her eyes up past her feet, she saw the man rise from where he’d been hiding behind his parked bike, rifle aimed right at her head.
“No!” Gisela screamed.
It was all over in a split second.
Drea once again found herself on the ground. But this tim
e she wasn’t alone. Gisela was laying on top of her.
Gisela, who had shoved Drea out of the way at the last moment.
“Gis—” Drea started, rolling both of them over.
And then she screamed.
Because half of Gisela’s head was missing.
Chapter Thirty
ERIC
“Drea!” Eric shouted, running down the last of the stairs even as machine gun fire exploded behind him in response to the shotgun blast.
No no no no no no. It couldn’t be happening again. He couldn’t be too late. He couldn’t watch another woman he loved die right in front of him.
Eric skidded to his knees beside Drea. She was sitting up, cradling Gisela’s limp form to her chest.
Drea was alive. Oh thank God. Thank God. But there was so much blood. Frantically, he ran his good hand over Drea’s head, neck, arms, everywhere not covered by her flack jacket. His hand came away sticky with blood. But not hers.
That was when Eric really took a good look at Gisela. From the side he’d first approached, she’d looked bad, but as he moved around Drea— Oh Jesus! Eric swallowed down bile that rose at seeing what was left of Gisela’s head.
It could have been Drea.
Drea’s brains could be splattered all over the pavement, another woman he loved dead in his arms. Another he’d failed to save.
This whole fucking situation was out of control. They shouldn’t have come until they’d been able to control more variables. Considered all the things that could have gone wrong. Brought a fucking battalion with them to protect—
“Get her up,” David barked. “Garrett, get her up. We need to move out. There are more behind us.”
Eric helped Garrett drag Drea to her feet. At first she fought them when they tried to get her to let go of Gisela’s corpse.
“She’s gone, D,” Garrett said. “You gotta let her go.”
Drea nodded mutely, finally stumbling to her feet.
“Eric. Eric Wolford.”
Eric froze at that voice and he swung around, yanking his gun out of the back of his jeans.
