Delta Force: Crow (Wayward Souls)

by Kris Norris

  Ryker eased the other woman against the side, joining Devlyn in the fight as he fired at Slader’s SUVs, giving Dev a quick nod. “When this is over, remind me to kick Vale’s ass.”

  “Deal.” She glanced at where Phoenix had been heading when he’d darted past her—far steadier than she’d thought possible based on his condition just hours earlier—but there was nothing except billowing dust. “If there’s anything left for you to kick.”

  “The kid’s been half trying to kill himself since he joined Delta. No way he’ll go out like this. Not enough drama for him.”

  She nodded then snapped her gaze down to his hands. Inhaled at the smearing of blood across his left palm. “You hit?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Your hand.”

  He looked down. Frowned then turned back toward Anna, huffing when she batted his hand away as he tried to lean her forward. Not that it seemed as if she had the strength to stop him. “Anna.”

  “It’s Olivia, and I’m fine.”

  “Olivia?”

  “Long story.”

  “Okay, but regardless, you’re not fine. You took a round to the shoulder blade.” He tapped his comm. “Ice. Brady.”

  Static hissed through the speaker in Devlyn’s ear before Ryker said their names, again.

  “Ice. Damn it, comms are out.”

  Olivia grunted as she leaned forward. Looked as if she was thinking about pushing to her feet, not that Devlyn thought the woman would stay upright for more than a second before falling face-first onto the ground. “Probably Slader’s drone. Jamming everything so no one can hack it.”

  “You know about that?”

  “The man’s nothing if not predictable.”

  “Which means it’s inbound. And we’re out in the open, with tangos between us and the only road out.”

  Devlyn emptied the last of her clip then reloaded. “Two of the truck tires are flat. We’ll need another way out of here.”

  “I doubt we could have driven past them, regardless.” He sighed when a series of explosions sounded in the distance. “And those would be Rigs’ countermeasures. I assume he’s stopping Slader from bugging out. Or, maybe others from joining in. Strategic move, though, it does limit our options.” He checked his ammo, fired off a few more rounds, then glanced at Olivia. “You think you can move if we help you?”

  She snorted, rolling onto her knees as she palmed the dirt. “I can run.” She glared at him. “By myself.”

  “Great. Another stubborn soul. Dev. You lead. I’ll cover our six. We’ll head for Brady’s clinic. Pray it’s still there. If nothing else, we might be able to hide in that building.”

  Olivia laughed. “The one about to fall down without any help from a drone? I think I’ll take my chances with Slader’s men. Speaking of which, I need a weapon.”

  “So you can shoot us in the back? Thanks, but I’d rather not die because I was stupid.”

  “I’m not working with Slader.”

  “Lady, all we know is that you’re involved. Your loyalty is yet to be determined.”

  “Then, why the rescue?”

  “Because you meant something to Phoenix. And because it was the right call, whoever’s side you’re on.” He silenced her. “Let’s focus on moving and not getting shot. If we’re lucky, we won’t have to kill anyone.”

  “How often are you that lucky?”

  Ryker didn’t reply, just popped out and started firing. Waved at Devlyn to go. She grabbed Olivia’s hand, ignoring the way the woman tried to wrench her arm free, then dashed out. She stayed low, zigzagging her way along, gun at the ready. Only took thirty seconds to reach the building—clear the area then dart behind the wall. Pull Olivia in behind her.

  More blood soaked through the other woman’s shirt, leaving dark drops on the dusty ground. Not that they had time to worry. Especially when Ryker dove in amidst a fury of gunfire, the last shot punching a hole through the corner of the building. Just missing him as he rolled across the gravel.

  Devlyn returned fire, aiming at where she thought Slader’s men were hunkered down, before glancing at Ryker. “You hit?”

  He moved in beside Olivia, exhaling through clenched teeth. “Took a couple rounds to the vest. Hurts like a bitch, but it held.”

  “Not if you get any more.” She nodded at where Brady’s clinic had been parked. “Glad they got out. Sucks for us, though.”

  “Brady needs to stay clear. Be there to treat any injuries. I guarantee Dungeon and Gib are close. Probably watching us as we speak.”

  “Creepy but okay.” She pointed toward the water. “We could head for the shore. Try to stay low. Out of their sight line. We might get lucky and—”

  A hum, stopping her cold. Prickling the hairs on the back of her neck. She had a moment of realization. Of the high-pitched rush of air before Ryker was yanking her sideways. Taking her and Olivia to the ground as he threw himself on top of them.

  There was a whoosh of air. Of a shell hitting the ground, then the building exploding. Shooting wood and debris in every direction.

  A loud ringing in her ears dimmed her view. Had the scenery swimming into shades of brown and black. Hints of yellow around the edges. Her gut roiled at a sudden wave of dizziness, threatening to empty her stomach onto the gravel.

  Tapping in the distance. Fast. Regular. Drawing closer. Devlyn blinked, tried to focus, when two men rounded the corner.

  Dead. They were dead. No time to counter. To roll out of the way. Raise her weapon and fire. Not with everything still sliding left and right. Her head pounding. Every limb feeling as if it was weighed down.

  Then, one of the men arched back. Arms flailing at his sides before dropping. Hard. No crying out. No counter moves. Just his body hitting the ground. His partner turned then fell. Head snapping back. A dull thud as he crumpled. Silent and still in the shadows. Pools of blood slowly eating up the dirt from beneath their bodies.

  More tapping. Another man rushing around the corner. But, even with her brain mushy, Devlyn knew it wasn’t one of Slader’s men. He moved differently. As if he flowed over the ground instead of running. And he wasn’t encased in black. In armor and frags, with arrogance radiating off of him in waves.

  Dungeon.

  Took a few seconds for his name to take shape. To form in her brain. Then, he was helping Ryker to his feet, giving him the once-over then crouching beside her. He said something that sounded like her name, but it was lost to that incessant ringing.

  A sigh mixed in with the irritating sound before his voice cut through the din. Started making sense.

  “The disorientation will pass. Damn lucky to be breathing. That shell took out the entire building.” Dungeon frowned. “You caught some shrapnel in your arm. Looks almost as bad as Crow’s thigh.”

  Crow’s thigh?

  Devlyn whipped her head around—regretted the instant clench of her stomach as the world dipped, again—before inhaling. Two large red patches stained Ryker’s jeans, the lower one gaping flesh through the center. Gnarled skin poking at the slices in the denim.

  Ryker sighed. “It looks worse than it is. Really. Though, your arm’s a mess.”

  “My arm?”

  Pain, burning up through her shoulder, stealing her breath as she gazed at her right arm. At the chunk of wood embedded in her biceps, with smaller fragments trailing up to her shoulder.

  Dungeon huffed. “You both look like shit, but if you can keep going, we need to move.”

  Ryker must have acknowledged Dungeon because he helped Olivia up, shouldering most of her weight as he led them toward the rear section of the abandoned lot. Ryker motioned for Devlyn to follow, moving in behind her. Once again, guarding their six, despite the increased blood stains on this jeans. The slight limp. Far less than his wounds warranted, but she knew he’d muscled through worse injuries than this while with Delta. That he’d lock up the pain, then file it away until they were clear. Even then, she was certain he’d insist Brady treat her, first.


  Dungeon continued around to the left, picking his way amidst the debris. Using the few chunks of wall still standing as cover. Olivia shuffled beside him, looking as unsteady as Phoenix had been when Brady and Colt had dragged him out. One foot trailing behind before she seemed to get it to work.

  They hadn’t gotten very far when another shell hit. No whoosh of air, no telltale whistle, this time. Just silence, then the world exploding. Dirt and gravel flying through the air, a deafening roar surrounding them.

  Devlyn wasn’t sure what happened next. How she ended up twenty feet away on the edge of the embankment leading down to the water. If the blast had blown her across the ground, or if she’d crumpled and Ryker had carried her. There was only his face above her when she blinked back the darkness. His hand on her jaw.

  He was bleeding. Laceration across his forehead. More on his chest. Dirt and grime smeared on his skin. He frowned then dipped lower, his mouth skimming hers. “Devlyn? You still with me, sweetheart?”

  She groaned but nodded, allowing him to help her upright. “One more of those, and I might not be.”

  “None of us can take another round from that drone.” He glanced over his shoulder, head shaking when his gaze met hers, again. “I lost sight of Dungeon and Olivia. The damn shell blew a trench between us, and there was too much dust and debris in the air. Getting us here took everything I had.”

  “He’s Delta, right? He’ll be okay.”

  Christ, she hoped Dungeon was okay. That she hadn’t gotten Ryker’s teammate killed. Because it would haunt Ryker almost as much as it would her. Taint the rest of her life. Their life together. If they had one. Because based on how poorly things were going...

  They’d make it. She had to believe that or the fight was already over.

  Ryker gave her body another sweep, then helped her up, balancing her weight as she fought to keep the scenery from dipping. “We need to keep moving. Get clear enough to call in backup.”

  “I thought all your team was already here?”

  “Jericho’s on standby a few blocks away. As is Addison. And I have others I trust enough I’d call in a pinch. They’re CIA, but I doubt they’ve been bought. Might be enough to…shit. Move.”

  His hand in hers, dragging her sideways. Shoving her behind a small pile of debris as bullets ricocheted off the other side. Whizzing through where they’d been standing moments earlier. More flinging up bits of dirt as they hit the ground. Ryker emptied his mag, changed it, then fired, again, keeping whoever was on the other side at bay.

  Slader. It had to be or the man would have finished them off with another round from his drone. Which didn’t make sense. He obviously wanted them dead, and the drone was the perfect way to make that happen without risking his life in the process.

  Whatever the reason, it meant they needed to move. Brave the open space between them and what looked like a few metal barrels tipped over on their sides. Hope they could make their way toward more friendly forces.

  Ryker was definitely on the same page. Squeezing her hand as he nodded toward the barrels then unloading enough bullets to give them a few moments of cover. Devlyn put all her energy into covering the distance as fast as possible. Arms pumping. Feet kicking up dirt and bits of wood. She managed to dive into place before the first bullet hit the other side. Was able to return fire as Ryker followed behind her, grunting when he hit the ground.

  She didn’t know how he kept moving. Not just from the pain. The decreased mobility. But the blood loss. How his jeans had soaked through enough the blood was dripping off the cuff. Leaving wet patches scattered on the ground when he rolled onto his knees.

  He had to be close to passing out.

  A smirk as he crouched in beside her. “Don’t give me that look. I’m not dead, yet, sweetheart.”

  “No, just seeing double.”

  “Means you’re twice as beautiful.” He coughed—spat out a bit of blood. “We’re running out of options.”

  “Why is he even hunting us when he could just end this with another strike?”

  “Fuck if I know. Though, I’d want to watch him die if our positions were reversed. Not rely on some computer geek sitting in a basement somewhere.”

  “With how poorly this meeting went, I can’t see him taking the chance just to be the one to pull the trigger.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right. If he wants us alive, that gives us a slight advantage.”

  “Adams. Ward. You two are running out of places to hide.” Slader’s voice Echoing through the empty space. Making it seem as if the dust was vibrating from the sound. “I’ll make you a deal. Give Carmichael back to me, and you two can leave. Save this fight for another day.”

  Devlyn frowned, mouthing the woman’s name to Ryker, but he merely shrugged.

  “What makes you think we’ll trade her life for ours?” Ryker smiled at her. “You know us better than that, Slader.”

  “That’s when you had options. A team watching your back. They’re the reason I didn’t want to get involved with you or Adams, again. But I’m willing to take my chances, and, by the time they make it over here to rescue your ass, there won’t be anything left for them to save. Unless you give Carmichael to me.”

  “I thought you said that wasn’t her real name?”

  “It’s not. Which is why I can’t let her leave. She knows far too much.”

  “Guess you should have thought about that before you decided to use her as bait.”

  “Five seconds, Crow. Or I’ll just kill all of you, and call it a day.”

  Ryker chuckled. Actually laughed loud enough Slader had to have heard him. “I should have capped you months ago at that warehouse with Six. Guess, I’m slipping. No deal. And you’d better hope that whoever’s piloting that drone gets off a kill shot, because anything less means I’m coming for you. And I don’t miss.”

  A look—all steel hard determination mixed with honor—then, he was up and running. Quickly closing the distance between them and Slader. Firing at anyone who presented a hint of a target. Just like at the warehouse. A suicide race.

  Not this time.

  Devlyn countered. Headed straight, then flanked. Drew some of the attention her way. Kept Slader’s men guessing. She made it halfway when she heard Ryker grunt. Looked over in time to see him hit the ground. Grimace.

  Another round to his vest. Had to be. And, after already taking a couple, that one could have punched through. Could have hit his lungs. Or pierced an artery.

  She changed direction mid-stride. Took out the asshole who’d fired at Ryker, clipping the next one to pop up. Several steps, and she was at his side. Bending down with every intention of dragging his ass over to a bunch of tires, when a boot scuffed behind her.

  She turned, but Ryker was already rising beside her. Gun aimed at the asshole about to take her out. Bastard fell before he could get off a shot. Body hitting hard. But two more took his place. Standing up from behind a pile of bricks. Darting out to get a better angle. Kill them, this time.

  There was a moment of pause. Of everything stopping. That slow motion thing she’d heard Ryker and his teammates talk about. Where life hangs in the air. Frozen. No sounds. Just the gunman taking aim. His finger caressing the trigger.

  She could save Ryker. A shift toward him, her body blocking his, and he’d have a chance to drop the mercenary before he fired, again. Cap his buddy, too. Maybe even escape. Hunker down until his teammates arrived. They had to be close. All he needed was a bit more time. Time, she could give him.

  She moved.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Crap.

  That’s all Crow could think as the scene unfolded around him. One of Slader’s asshole goons lining them up. Another just behind him. Shuffling right. Ready to fire if the other guy missed.

  No way he’d miss. Not this close. And not with a damn Sig. Unless the guy was completely useless. Was all show. Not likely when he suspected Slader’s men were ex-Spec Ops. Guys like him. His team. Which meant, Crow had
one chance to save Devlyn. Cap this asshole then block any other shot. Give her enough time to make a run for it. Which she should have done, already. He’d charged Slader for a reason. No way the man would issue a drone attack if he was inside the strike zone. All Crow had to do was close that distance enough Slader would be forced to fight old school.

  But she’d backed him up, instead. Had flanked right—drawn some of the gunfire—when she should have been escaping. Then, she’d risked everything when he’d taken another hit to his vest. Fucker had hurt. Knocked the wind out of him, and he’d crumpled. That’s when he’d realized she was determined to rescue him.

  They were both too damn stubborn.

  Which was why she was already moving. Trying to get in front of him and block any shot. Sacrifice herself so he’d have a chance.

  Not happening, because he didn’t want any chances if she wasn’t in the equation. It had taken him far too long to realize how empty his life had been without her in it, and he’d be damned to go back to that, now.

  Which meant, getting in front of her. Preventing her from taking a bullet aimed at him. He had it all planned out. He didn’t even need to think about it, just relied on his years of training. Of always being willing to take a hit for his teammates. Make the ultimate sacrifice. But he never got the chance.

  A breath away from engaging the trigger, the ground exploded beneath the gunman’s right foot, blowing him backwards amidst a cloud of dirt and rocks. Crow didn’t know if it was strong enough to kill the guy, but there was no mistaking the hard thud as he hit the ground, the splatter of blood across the dirt.

  His partner reeled from the force, catching his balance only to be pulled sideways when a large canine appeared out of the dust and debris, jaws snapping. Two bounding leaps, and the dog was latched onto the guy’s arm. Teeth embedded into his forearm. Preventing the guy from shooting. A throaty growl, then the man was on his back, free hand trying to dislodge the animal’s teeth.

  But Rigs was already rushing in. Knocking the guy out with a sharp slam of his rifle’s hilt then calling the dog off. It released on command, licking Rigs’ hand when he reached down to give it a scratch. Praise it. Crow panned left—ready to fire—but the area was clear. Just the lingering dust cloud swirling in the air.