There was no telling whether he was alive.
There was no sign of Spring.
Heart in his throat, he descended the circular stairs, leading his team. In room clearing formation, they entered a hallway. Empty. He pointed at the ceiling-mounted cameras. One of his men went ahead and disabled them with gunfire, as they moved stealthily down the length. There were eight doors.
Fuck.
They systematically opened each door and determined that each room was clear. In the seventh room they found Barrows. No Spring.
He ran to the bed.
“Barrows. Found,” he said. The man’s complexion was gray, his lips tinged blue. “Eighth floor. Unconscious. Sebastian felt for Barrows’ carotid, feeling profound relief when he found it. “Faint pulse. Bullet entry in shoulder, another in his back. Doctor?”
“Roger,” the doctor responded. “Heading in.”
“No. Stand by for clearance from Zeus.” He glanced at his agents. “Two of you stay with Barrows. Defend and keep alive. Field dress. Pressure. Get more instruction from doc.”
“Omega team,” Omega team leader’s voice was calm, but barely audible over the whir of an engine. “Foreign helicopter approaching roof.”
“At first positive ID that it is for Trask,” Sebastian said, “blow it out of the sky.”
“Roger. Still only assuming it’s Trask’s.”
He gestured to one of the agents on his team to follow him, then for the remaining two to stay with Barrows. Sebastian ran as he retraced his steps though the eighth floor corridor. The lone team member who was accompanying him ran in stride with him. There’d been no sign of Trask since entering the building. With the helicopter approaching the roof, Sebastian had his first clue as to where Trask was going. Exit strategy. Helicopter. Roof. Enough said.
“Omega under fire.”
“Activate missile.”
“Done.”
Within seconds of hearing the word, Sebastian heard the explosion and felt the repercussions as he ran.
“Sir. Eight Trask personnel. Exiting stairwell. Roof, eastern side. Spring Barrows is hostage. She appears unconscious.”
He reached the circular stairwell. Three floors to climb.
“Sir. They have the advantage.”
“Beta Team remains on seven,” Zeus said. “We do not yet have control of six and seven, but we will prevent their reinforcements from heading up. Copy?”
“Roger,” Sebastian said, taking the steps three at a time, not pausing to breathe, running through the ninth floor penthouse, and into the same air conditioning service area through which they had entered the building. He paused at the door, knowing he and his team member had the advantage of surprise on Trask and his men. They thought they only had the four-agent Omega team to contend with.
“Omega, talk to me.”
“They’re demanding we drop weapons.” The response was terse and whispered. “They’ve got us, two to one. Plus, they have the hostage.”
“Our chopper’s in the air,” Sebastian said, “Three minutes out.”
“Too long.”
“Tell me location of the hostage and the location of Trask. I’ll exit the stairwell on the western side of the building.” Same way he’d gained entry. He visualized the roof. He’d seen it in aerial shots, as he parachuted in, and when he’d been standing on it. “From there, will I have a clean shot at Trask?”
“Yes. Position is your ten o’clock. Ten yards. He’s fifth from your right. His back is to you. He just took Spring from the man on his right. She’s slumped.”
“I’ll take Trask, the man on his right, and the man on his left. You and your men handle the rest. Open fire as I do. Do not fire if there’s any danger of hitting the girl.”
Sebastian looked at his team member as he lifted his Glock. “Open the door on my nod. Omega, reconfirm position of Trask.”
He shut his eyes for a second, breathing deeply, as he listened to the verbal instructions. It wasn’t the first time he’d emerged from cover with an operation’s success riding on the accuracy of his bullet. The difference now was he saw Skye and Spring when he shut his eyes and the sight jolted him like an electric shock.
He could not fail. Could not even think the word failure, yet there it was, more than a thought. Failure was suddenly a tangible thing, inspiring the harsh reality of what would happen if he did not succeed. It was an f-word that had no business intruding into his thoughts, yet it was rocking him to his core, twisting his gut, making him realize with laser-sharp clarity why crossing the line in his line of work was something never to be done. He opened his eyes, shook off the f-word and the split-second of hesitation it had inspired, caught the puzzled glance of the agent who was watching him, and took a deep, calming breath.
Fuck.
The whole operation had been a nightmare. It needed to end, and when it did, he wasn’t looking back. He needed to feel like himself again. Another deep breath. One more, and he felt normal. One more, and Sebastian was in kill zone, where the world stopped spinning, and all that mattered was the precision with which his shot met its intended target. When he could hear the whump-thud of his heartbeat, when he felt blood crawling though his veins, he was ready.
Following the directions given to him, he emerged from the doorway and took aim. Finger on the trigger, he took only the edge of a second to confirm that Trask was in the position that he’d been told. Sebastian fired two shots in quick succession—bam! bam!—into the back of Trask’s head. Bam! Bam! Two, into the temple of the man on Trasks’s left, and two more rapid-fire shots into the forehead of the man on his right. His men took advantage of the element of surprise and killed the others.
Without pausing, he ran to where Spring lay, face down on the ground. Trask had fallen over her, face first, lying sideways across her. She wasn’t moving. He kicked Trask’s body off of her, bent to her, feeling for a pulse behind her ear. When he felt the flow of blood through her body, he was able to draw a deep breath. He gently turned her head so he could see her face. It was drained of color, a trace of blue veins beneath her pale skin. Her hair was matted and filthy. A bruise smudged her jaw. She was dressed in a flimsy hospital gown, wearing only panties underneath. Clear fingerprint bruises on her upper arms and legs showed that she’d been manhandled.
Rage pulsed behind Sebastian’s eyes. He glanced at Trask and made sure he saw no sign of life. “Spring? Honey? It’s Sebastian. You’re safe. I have you. Can you open your eyes?” Into his headset, he said, grimly, “Doctor. Location?”
Spring’s eyes remained closed as Sebastian smoothed her hair off her face.
“Still trying to get to Barrows on eight. I’m on five. Getting ready to head through the fighting on six and seven.”
“Zeus here. Western stairwell.” Over Zeus’ words, Sebastian heard three pops of gunfire, and then, “Is now clear for you Doc.”
Spring’s breathing was slow, but like her pulse, the rate was steady. Though her body was limp, there were no gunshot wounds, no blood. For Spring, he knew the trauma would be mental, if not physical. Her hair blew wildly, as the chopper landed on the rooftop nearby. He sheltered her with his body, picked her up, and cradled her against his chest. He ran, hunched over to avoid the spinning rotors. He shielded Spring with his body from the rushing, cold air, as the helicopter landed.
Two paramedics, about to jump down, gave him a nod. The chopper was equipped with the latest medical personnel and equipment, yet he was reluctant to hand over his burden. His arms tightened around her before he handed her up.
“Take a stretcher to eight for Barrows,” he instructed, as two other men jumped onto the rooftop and ran to the stairs. He watched for a moment, as the paramedics strapped Spring onto a gurney and administered oxygen and an IV.
Sebastian stepped away. “Doctor?”
“Just getting to eight.” He was out of breath.
“Timing issue. Stretcher’s on its way to eight. How long before Richard is ready for travel, becaus
e I’ll send the chopper to the hospital with Spring, if it’s more than 15 minutes.”
“Not there yet.” He heard heavy breathing as the doctor ran the remainder of the way.
“Doc, you sound like you’re out of shape.”
“I’m ignoring that, asshole.”
Sebastian chuckled. He waited, while every fiber in his being hoped that Richard Barrows wasn’t bleeding out.
“He’s lost one hell of a lot of blood, but the agents here seemed to have managed to stop the flow. Damn. Pulse is weak. We don’t have the luxury of keeping him here one second longer. He’ll be up in five minutes. Four if we’re lucky. That includes travel time to roof.”
“Will he live?”
“Looking grim.”
Answer enough.
To the paramedic, who was slipping an IV needle into Spring’s arm, Sebastian said, “Prognosis?”
Dark brown eyes held his for a second and the paramedic gave him a nod. “She’s sedated. Not sure with what, but she should be fine.”
Two agents from Omega team remained on the roof, which was littered with the bodies of Trask and his men. Two Omega agents walked the perimeter, ready to provide rooftop support for any ground action and keep the rooftop secure, in case any other Trask personnel made the mistake of trying to evacuate that way. At the moment, though, there was no action outside. All remaining agents had descended into the building to help the fight on seven and eight.
“Zeus,” Sebastian reluctantly moved away from the chopper. Spring was in excellent hands, and she wasn’t his only priority.
“Copy.”
“Where’s the most resistance?”
“Eight. Southeastern corner. Gunfire in stairwell. We’re in the computer lab. Fuckers started a fire.”
“Headed there now.” Sebastian jogged down the stairs, passing the ninth floor as they communicated. “Any sign of Barrows’ backup?”
He heard a round of automatic gunfire, as Zeus answered. “Fighting gunfire and fire as I search.”
“Omega agents on the roof. When you can, search any bags that Trask and his men were carrying. Ragno. Get me Skye.” He wanted to tell her himself that her sister was safe.
As Sebastian went into the western stairwell, the agents and the paramedic went by him, carrying Richard Barrows on a stretcher. The doctor, who was running alongside them, flipped Sebastian the middle finger. He and Doctor Richard Williams had been friends for years. Dick was a slender six-feet tall and, when he wasn’t working, he participated in ultramarathons. He regularly trained other agents in physical fitness drills. “That’s for saying I’m out of shape. I’ll challenge you to a 10-mile drill, course of my choosing, anytime.”
Sebastian chuckled. “You’re on.”
“Get your head fixed, Sebastian.” Fuck. He didn’t need Dick reminding him of a pending date with a neurosurgeon. “Then call me.”
He was ten steps from the door that would lead him to eight, when Ragno said, “Sebastian, here’s Skye.”
She said, “I’m here.”
“Spring and your father are on their way to the hospital. Spring is sedated. She should be fine.” He paused before opening the door, and softened his voice, but knew Skye well enough to know that she would want to know what he knew, without sugarcoating. “Your father isn’t doing as well. He was shot. Twice. He’s lost a lot of blood. There are other wounds from his time in captivity. We’re not sure of prognosis.”
Silence.
“Skye? You okay?”
He heard her draw a deep breath. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’ve got to get to the hospital.”
“Raven One will take you. You’re leaving now. Ragno will keep you informed of their progress, as you’re en route.”
He broke the connection, pausing before entering the firefight in the computer lab.
Done.
The job of finding Richard Barrows was over. Spring was safe. Trask was dead. Mission? Almost complete. The rest was details. He shook off his personal worry and concern for Skye and told himself he couldn’t do a damn thing about whether her father lived or died. All he was left with was a nagging, pissed off feeling at himself, that he’d let the job get under his skin.
Done, he reminded himself.
It was fucking done, and it was well past the time for him to shake off the emotional crap the job had produced. With Trask dead, and the Barrows family on their way to being reunited, there was one loose end that needed his immediate attention. “Ragno?”
“Yes?”
“That profile on Minero. Did it turn up anything?”
“Nothing at all.”
Good. That meant he could focus his attention on ending the firefight at Trask Enterprises. He hoisted his M4 Carbine, drew a deep breath, and opened the stairwell door on eight. The shitstorm was ending. Now.
Chapter Twenty Six
7 a.m., Wednesday
Spring was drifting in and out of consciousness. They knew she’d been medicated, but weren’t sure with what. She was still in the trauma unit of Sentara Norfolk General Hospital, in a room that was down the hall from where her father was in surgery. Skye was sitting by Spring’s bedside, when Sebastian walked into the room, a nurse in scrubs at his side. The redheaded nurse was part of her father’s surgical team and had given her two updates, since she had arrived at the hospital.
The look on Sebastian’s face was grim. The nurse’s features didn’t reveal anything. Skye stood, drawing a deep breath, and bracing herself.
“It’s good news,” the nurse said, her voice low. “Would you mind stepping outside, so I can give you a report on how your father’s doing?”
The lights in Spring’s room were dim, with the shades drawn. Aside from the soft hums and beeps on the equipment monitoring Spring’s vitals, the hospital room and the long corridor immediately outside of it were quiet. Down the hallway, two marshals stood guard outside the doors that led to the operating rooms. She’d met them, and a few others, including Marshal Minero, who she’d done the phone interview with the morning before at Last Resort. They’d all been polite, reserved, and seemed relieved that the ordeal was over.
“They successfully removed the two bullets,” the nurse informed her, seemingly oblivious to Sebastian, who stood back, listening. “Now they’re repairing the damage. His vitals have stabilized. We’re confident his condition will improve, once he’s out of surgery. The goal will be as soon as he’s not critical, we’ll move him to same suite as your sister.” The nurse smiled. “That’ll make your visits easier, won’t it?”
“Thank you,” Skye said, relief pulsing through her. The only thing holding her together now was the tension that bound every nerve. She couldn’t collapse. Not now. She needed to be strong when Spring awoke, which could be any minute. She needed to be strong while her father recovered from major surgery. Most immediately, she needed to hold herself together, while she confirmed what she saw in Sebastian’s serious gaze. He was about to say goodbye. She knew it. He knew it. It was all over but the telling and watching him walk away.
“Your father has approximately another hour of surgery,” the nurse informed her in a soft tone. “I’ll come find you, if there’s news.”
“Please.” As the woman walked away, Skye focused her attention on Sebastian. Profound relief and happiness at seeing him was immediately snuffed by her self-preservation instinct, as she took in his intense blue eyes and the grim set of his jaw. There was no smile. No dimples. He carried with him the gravity of a long night and the fall-out from it. “Has Spring woken up yet?”
“No,” she answered. “She’s resting. Sleeping, really.” No one knew yet the long-reaching ramifications. Skye was optimistic, but braced for that conversation with the psychiatrist and the doctors treating her sister.
“The room next to hers is empty. We can talk in there.” He wore black cargo pants with pockets, a black t-shirt, a leather bomber jacket, and black shoes with soles made for running. Which he was getting ready to do. She choke
d on the laughter his shoes inspired, as she caught a glance at the grim look in his eyes. He didn't touch her. Didn't look as if he wanted to touch her, and Skye’s mouth went dry as her heart beat hard in her ears. This was it. I saved your ass, and your sister and father. I’m done here. Nice knowing you. Bye-bye.
He opened the door for her, waited as she went by, and left it half open.
Braced, she turned to lean against a table that held a vase of silk flowers and a fanned out pile of magazines. She felt a deep longing to be in his arms, with her face pressed against his chest. His formal, erect posture told her he wasn’t offering a hug, and the hard, distant look in his eyes warned her that throwing herself against him wouldn’t be a good move. He hadn’t shaved since the morning before, and the stubble of his beard added to the look of a man who’d been through hell, and conquered it. He ran his fingers through his short, dark brown hair. He stood, just a few feet in the room, with his arms loose at his sides. He smelled faintly of smoke and the outdoors, and his musky-sweet aroma enveloped her. His gaze held hers.
“Ragno, give me a few minutes.” He pulled the earpiece, slipped it in his pocket, and gave her all his attention. “I have information, if you want it.”
“Yes.” Her instincts had been dead-on accurate. This wasn’t a comfort call.
“The mastermind behind what happened to your father and Spring was a man named James Trask.” He gave her more details, painting a picture that chilled her.
“Is he still-”
“Dead,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact, his eyes unreadable. “As are a good many of the people who worked for him.”
Shadows (Black Raven Book 1) Page 41
