by BA Tortuga
Paddy had decided this in Vegas, had started the creation of the weapon before they found Boomer. He needed Boomer to make it bigger, to make it right, and to make it ignite.
He sat in the back of the van, fiddling with some of the wires. Neil was sleeping. Really sleeping, because Boomer was here and had what he wanted, so he would leave Neil alone. No more Neil/Boomer. It made Paddy hurt.
Maybe that meant Neil would be sharp enough to help. To be there when they started the dismantling of the whole compound.
“Rick, let me see this contraption.” Boomer was at the door, eyes sharp.
“So see. It’ll work. It needs a fuse.”
“A trigger. More like a trigger.” Boomer nodded, staring at what he’d made up. “Shit, Rick. This is good.”
He nodded. “Three hundred and twenty decibels. Immediate lung embolism within ten yards.”
“So, more of a remote trigger for sure.”
“Yes. I have three for the facility. Is it underground?”
“Mostly. There’s a building aboveground that seems to be admin. Like a cover.” That came from Sonny, who sauntered over with an aerial plan. Cowboy had gotten it somewhere.
“Cowboy will take out anyone in the upstairs. Rick, you and I need to take out the guards so we can get in.”
Paddy nodded. “Okay. Okay, how many guards?”
“Quite a few.” Sonny frowned. “They have a guard shack, which is nothing more than a target for a chemical grenade. But they have random patterns on the patrol.”
MJ nodded. “So we want something to distract them. Something big enough that they all move.”
“Then they’ll know we’re there.”
“Not if it’s something natural. Gas leaks are ugly things.” MJ still made him shudder.
“That’s your thing, Boomer. I can make it worse, but the ugliness, that’s you.”
Sonny growled a little. “Back off, Red. You don’t get to play the wounded hero any more than anyone else.”
“Fuck off, Sonny. You don’t scare me anymore.” Nothing scared him anymore. “Your job is to take bullets for Boomer so he can blow the tanks, and we all know it.”
“Now, children.” Cowboy came in too, and it was like old home week. “Don’t wake the Brit.”
“No. Let him sleep. He’s tired, and you’ll need him to help.” He chewed his bottom lip. “If we can get benzene as a secondary blow, that’ll take out the second wave of guards.”
MJ nodded. “Okay, let me see what I can scare up. We won’t need much.”
Sonny nodded too. “Just tell me what I need to do.”
“Can someone make coffee?” His head hurt so bad.
“Doc can. He makes great coffee.”
“I’d like some coffee.”
And about ten tons of C-4.
SONNY WAITED for MJ to leave Red, going to check the trigger mechanism the two had come up with. He hoped to God it worked, as it would give them more distance than he’d expected to have. Hell, he hadn’t expected anyone to live.
“So, it’s my job to get shot, huh? And me without my magical chain mail.”
“You get shot again and I’ll kick your ass.”
“Mmm. Promise?” He watched MJ toggle switches.
“Yes. You have my word.” MJ’s eyes met his, serious as shit. “Your job is to be Sonny. I need you.”
“I know. I’m here.” He touched MJ’s back; they didn’t have a whole lot of time. “I’m sorry, Precious. About your momma.”
“I wanted to introduce you to her.”
“I liked her. She was a lot like you.” Sonny grinned a little, trying to ignore how MJ was vibrating. “Only more stoned. Maybe a little more tired.”
“Yeah. She liked her green. It was the truth, wasn’t it, what you told me? They didn’t kill her.”
“No. No, she just couldn’t go on, Precious. She gave out.” Sonny had seen it with his own momma. She’d laid down and died.
“She should have tried. I was taking care of shit.” MJ’s hands were shaking.
“I know.” He turned MJ around and took the trigger, set it aside. Precious wasn’t the touchy-feely type, but Sonny needed a taste.
Those eyes searched his, the man a little wild around the edges.
“I got you.” He kissed MJ hard, hard enough that the touch would stay with them through the next few hours.
MJ’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, the little fucker holding on tight.
Sonny kissed MJ like it was the end of the fucking world. It was never boring, this life of theirs. He’d just traded one wild ride for another when he left ridge running.
It was time for this particular ride to be over, though. It was time for the world to let him have his Precious.
He had no doubt there would always be bar fights and lobster rescues. What he wanted was for the Program to be finished. Now.
“You don’t get shot. You don’t. I need you, man, more than breathing.”
“I won’t.” He wasn’t going to get killed, at any rate. He couldn’t promise not shot, really, but he could lie.
“Okay.” MJ squeezed his fingers. “Okay. Tell me a story, redneck. Tell me about what we’re doing after this is done.”
“There’s going to be a boat, a lot of sunscreen, and a hell of a lot of fucking.” His thumb rubbed MJ’s fingers.
“Bananas and Ding Dongs and sunshine.”
“Gravy and yoga and your hair all back to right.”
MJ laughed. “Blowjobs and beaches and hammocks.”
“God, yes.” Sonny was chuckling too. This was what he’d needed. It always came down to the two of them.
“Yeah. Let’s get this shit done, man. Tomorrow, we finish this whole fucking deal.”
Sonny nodded, taking one last kiss. He made it one to remember. One to let MJ look forward to when this was all over.
Because they were going to win, damn it.
They were.
DUNCAN KNEW where they were.
He didn’t know how, but he knew where they were.
There would be long hallways in the bottom, with warrens of rooms with machines and needles and men.
He knew this.
He didn’t want to go in.
He looked at Colby, who was cleaning weapons, eyes on the window. He could grab his Cowboy. Run.
He could.
He wanted to.
“No, Doc.” Colby didn’t even look back. He just smiled a little. “No caveman this time, okay? We have to make sure they never come after you.”
“I know this place. Bad place. This is a bad place.”
“It is. Good thing we’re destroying it.” Now Colby did look, those cold eyes warming for him.
“You stay. I go with the monkey and carry the boxes.” He knew. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to at all.
“That’s it, Doc. I’ll have your back.” The last piece of the rifle clicked into place.
He nodded, growling unhappily. They hurt him in there. They made him scream.
“I’ll kill as many of them as I can, Doc.” The words were quiet, sure.
He nodded, touched Colby’s hand. The Other was deep inside. He could not let the Other out.
The faint sheen of gun oil felt odd, but when Colby kissed him it was right and good.
It was the only good thing in the world, at least until he could get his cowboy away from here.
Cowboy all but climbed up him, the gun set carefully aside. He held the weight easily.
“Mine.”
He held the lean body, muscles bulging, everything in him screaming to run.
“Yours, Duncan.” Colby gripped his arms. “No running. Not yet.”
“But you don’t go in. No matter what. You don’t go in.”
His cowboy. Safe.
“I won’t.” He thought perhaps Colby was not lying. That he was promising for real.
“Good. Mine.” He let his temple rest against Colby. “Soon.”
“Very soon, Doc. I swear i
t.”
That would have to be enough.
“I LOVE you, Neil.” He kissed the pale cheek, met the pretty eyes. “I’m going to go kill a lot of people. I think that means I have to go to hell when I die. They are the ones that hurt you, though. Not good people.”
Paddy knew a secret. A tiny secret that he wasn’t going to share with Neil.
“Padraic….” Neil stroked his cheeks. “I would much rather you stayed with me.”
“I know. I would too, but no one else can set the boxes up, and Boomer is making the benzene fire. You have to stay here.” I will always love you, Neil. Forever.
“I’ll be waiting for you, love.” Neil kissed him too. It was nice to have Neil to himself. They had all sort of separated to get ready.
“I know. You’ll be able to sleep from now on.”
He wasn’t sure how MJ had done it, or if MJ had, but Neil’s mind was his own again.
“I will. Manning and I have disengaged.” Neil smiled, kissing the tip of his nose.
Paddy chuckled. That sounded like something gross with dogs.
“Oh, now. Nasty.”
“Sorry.” Except he wasn’t. Not really. It was funny. “Do you think it’ll storm later?” He hoped so.
“I think it will, love.” Neil put his head back, eyes closed. “It will be a true, cleansing storm.”
“Good.” He kissed Neil one more—last—time. “Okay. The sun’s going down soon. It’s time.”
I love you more than M&M’s.
Neil’s mental laugh was a little rusty. “I think I love you more than tea.”
“Good.” He squeezed Neil’s hand. He had to go now. “Will you say a prayer for me? Just a little one?”
He’d been happy, once. Really happy in the sun with his lover, and he held on to that memory hard.
“I will, love. I will say a big one if necessary. I want you to come back.” Neil squeezed before letting his fingers slide away, those eyes watchful and a little sad.
Maybe Neil knew. Maybe not.
It didn’t matter now.
Now, he had to do what he’d been trained for.
THE BEST thing about working with Sonny was that MJ didn’t have to worry about explaining the man’s job. He’d slipped in three times over the last thirty hours, destroying surveillance cameras, interrupting feeds, creating low-level electrical chaos, setting equipment, making sure the charges were placed, sliding the benzene into the appropriate spots. Sonny had been his cover, staying far enough away to pick off any assholes who disturbed the work. There hadn’t been any, but the cover was good.
MJ wiggled under the fence, checked his watch against the seconds ticking off in his head. He needed to stay close enough to make sure the thing went—fire first, gas burn off, then the superhot chemical fire to take out the responders—far enough away to avoid retina burn.
He held his hand at his shoulder where Sonny would be working, giving the signal. Twenty seconds. Rick and the Doc needed to be ready to move.
Nineteen.
Eighteen.
Sonny was moving, keeping the same distance between them, keeping him from being in the line of fire. The man was surprisingly good at black ops.
Time stopped for a second, and he watched the job. This was what he was, what he did. What he was made for.
The first blow hit in a rush, the gas line shooting a line of fire high enough that the world would see it.
Okay.
Excellent. They had fifteen minutes, tops, to wage a war.
Controlled chaos. That was what he had to go for. Under his control, not theirs. The first rush of responders showed up right on target, and Sonny and Cowboy started picking them off, just like little bowling pins.
He headed back to Sonny, knowing they needed distance from the second wave of explosions. The alarms went off for about two seconds before the tiny charges inside them started popping, the remote detonator in his hand damned useful.
Best thing about being part of the Program was that you knew their tricks.
You also knew anyone who worked for their uber-secret desert compound was no innocent rube. MJ had not one ounce of sympathy for any of them.
Sonny fell back, giving him a nice field of cover before meeting him at the rendezvous point. Those white teeth flashed in a smile against the face-black Sonny had smeared on. “Phase two?”
He got to Sonny. “Rick in?”
“Yeah. Him and the Doc both. Cowboy’s in place for the second round, and Neil is monitoring.”
“Excellent. Let’s go.” He typed in a code and blew the front lobby of the fucking compound, the entire front building actually shuddering. It had been a sweet bonus, having that little señorita deliver reams of paper this morning.
Sonny nodded and got moving, all business. Nothing touchy-feely. Go him. They headed around to the side of the compound, away from the main building, heading for the tiny underground entrance that got very little use.
When Rick’s first wave went off, the ground shook, and it knocked them both to their knees.
WOW. THAT had worked.
Paddy grabbed Duncan’s hand, pulled him faster through the weird warren of halls and blinking lights. Duncan was… big. Puffy. Growly.
But he hit soldiers really hard.
The first blow had taken the big labs. He had two more. One more for down here and then….
Yeah.
The big one with the multiple fuses.
Duncan hit another man with a clothesline, and it was like a cartoon, the way the soldier’s feet were suddenly in the air.
Neil, he thought. I need to know where the communications center is. I need to know where.
He could hear Neil, humming like a computer almost. Then he got a schematic, right there in his head. Right, then left.
He pulled Duncan hard. “Come on.”
There were guns firing wildly, and he just kept his head down. He wasn’t threatening.
Just another scientist.
Just another guy.
Duncan?
Well, not so much.
Duncan rumbled, thundering along like the Hulk on a bad day. Still, it made dodging bullets easier.
The comm center was mostly empty, a couple of hardened-looking guys at the door. “Duncan, I have to get in there. Right now.”
“In. Now.” Duncan went after the men, taking three bullets to the chest and still going.
Oh, God.
Oh, God.
“I’m so sorry.”
He ran, slid into the room and set the second device. Fifteen seconds. “Duncan!”
He ran, legs pumping. Driving.
This would kill the information.
Please God.
He could feel Neil trying to push him, trying to move him faster, and he ran, Duncan behind him, bleeding.
“Run.”
“Yes.” God, yes, Duncan. Run so hard.
Chapter Eighteen
THINGS WERE going down like clockwork. Five by five.
MJ hadn’t thought it was gonna go so well—Sonny could tell. The plan was working, though. They’d felt the first wave of explosions underground and were up and running again before the shocks were over.
MJ hugged the side of the building, so bent over the man was damn near running on his knees.
One of the big cargo doors opened just as another explosion hit the building, MJ going to hands and knees. There was a fire inside now; Sonny could smell it. Either that or the biggest fucking fire in history was heading their way, because fuck him, that thing MJ’d created back there was wild.
He was pretty sure he had blisters on his—that was a fancy-assed Jeep coming out of those doors. Way too fancy for a second wave of guards.
“No.” He saw MJ’s mouth move, and his Precious rolled, hands scrabbling for the weapon at his ankle. “No!”
MJ got six shots off, the bullets sparking off the fucking vehicle.
Sonny had no idea what was going on, but he went ahead and emptied his clip
at the tires, the gas tank, and the muffler, anything that would slow the vehicle down. Or kill it.
Nothing. Fuck.
MJ was up and moving faster than he could even imagine, screaming as he headed for the Jeep on foot.
Shit. Shit, what the hell? Sonny took the time to reload and key the headset he wore to let Cowboy know they were off schedule. “We got a bogey and MJ’s chasing. I’m going with him.”
“Gotcha. There’s a vehicle heading your way, man, from the west. Watch out.”
“Got it.” Sonny rolled to the edge of the dirt track, focusing on the second Jeep. This one was standard ex-Army issue, worn and dingy. His instincts told him to ignore MJ, even though he wanted to knock the fool down and scream at him. They needed that Jeep.
He took out the point man in the back with his first shot, the driver with his second, and then the Jeep started careening, slowing down. The passenger shoved the driver out the open side, grabbed the wheel, and Sonny aimed, the noise so bad he almost missed the click of the hammer.
Regardless, he didn’t miss the nudge of the barrel to the base of his skull.
Fuck-a-doodle.
COWBOY TOOK a deep breath, then let half of it out. His eyes both stayed open; his finger stayed loose as he squeezed, not pulled. He did all this automatically these days.
Good thing for Sonny too. The gun at the man’s head went off harmlessly in the air when the guy holding it fell back, staring sightlessly into the sky.
He took the guy in the Jeep next, then went back to laying down lazy cover. Good thing Jay paid well.
“What are they doing?” The Brit sounded calm, but Cowboy could tell he was about to panic.
“Looks like someone big’s trying to escape. My bet’s on the burned dude.”
Jay-Jay was running like a fuck-starved jackrabbit, and the redneck had the Army-issue Jeep now. Might work out.
Neil frowned. Looked like he was concentrating hard. “Oh, dear.”
“What’s up, man?” He didn’t feel like surprises, really.
“It is that Greg fellow.” Neil started to rise. “Padraic. He’ll need someone to take Manning’s place.”
