She was correct that there would likely be a trap, and he wasn’t willing to risk her. She was prickly and way too fem domme for her own good, but Hawk still cared for her. In a sick, twisted, perverted kind of way. He wanted to fuck her six ways from Saturn and back again, but he knew that would never happen. Instead, he’d keep her as safe as he could. If he didn’t get his ass back to the ship pretty soon after those cuffs released her, he knew she’d come looking for him.
This wasn’t like the last time they broke into the inner, secret workings of a space station. There was no one to meet for directions. He had to find his own way, and that meant relying on old blueprints and hoping the Consolidation kept to their policy of uniformity. With a little luck, maybe he could get in, grab Storm and get out without much of a fuss.
Making his way down a deserted corridor, Hawk thanked the Heavens he had timed his arrival with the station’s night cycle. Few people were up and about, and security was just a little bit lax.
At the end of the corridor, there was a vent. According to the blueprint, it should lead deeper into the heart of the station. If he were right, the maze of ducts should lead him to his destination.
It was a tight fit. If he ran into resistance, there was no way he was getting out the way he came in. He’d have to use a more maneuverable path, and that meant fighting his way out. Not that he was opposed to it -- hell, he’d prefer it. But he couldn’t very well leave Onyx shackled in his ship with no way to defend herself. He had to at least be extra careful not to get caught until the timer released her cuffs.
Crawling on his elbows, Hawk was sweating by the time he made the third turn.
Sure enough, the duct led to the prisons. Vague moans and cries of pain echoed all around him until he couldn’t tell which way to go. Twice, he circled back to the main station and had to scoot back to the last bend and take a different route. Being a space marine meant he’d endured all kinds of environments, and claustrophobia had never been a problem. But by the time he found the guard station for the prison, he couldn’t have given two shits if he raised all kinds of alarms. He was getting out of the damned vents. Now.
Hawk waited until he spotted both guards and was certain there wasn’t a third before making his move. Getting as close to the vent as possible, Hawk shoved with all his might. The vent exploded from the wall, and Hawk dove out head first, tucking into a ball and rolling as he hit the floor.
He was on his feet in one smooth motion, gun in one hand, knife in the other.
The guard closest to the console and the alarm took a round in the chest, then the throat.
Blood splattered, and the man clutched his gored throat instinctively, dying before he hit the ground. The other man had time to draw his weapon, but little else. Hawk’s enhanced muscles and reflexes held him in good stead, and he buried the knife to the hilt in the guard’s ear.
Both guards lay slumped on the floor, blood pooling around them. Hawk glanced at his watch. If protocol hadn’t changed, the night surveillance cameras would make a ten-second sweep of the area in exactly fifteen minutes. He had that long to find Storm and get the hell out before everything crashed down around him.
Glancing at a tablet lying on the console at the first guard’s station, he found Storm’s name, ID number and cell block. The guard tower was situated above the prison units, accessible by a single service stair. If he was found out, that narrow stair was his only way out of the prison area. He was risking being trapped with Storm by going down, but he had little choice. Hawk retrieved his knife and grabbed the guard’s pistol and his swipe key as he descended into the prison area.
The lights were dim, glowing softly only every few hundred feet. Surgically enhanced vision wasn’t something Hawk had opted for, fearing the loss of his sight.
More than once, he’d wished he hadn’t been so squeamish.
Precious seconds ticked by. He was in the right area but couldn’t find the cell.
They were numbered in code so that each cell number appeared to be random. Without the key to translate the cell numbers, he had to check every unit until he found the right one.
Three minutes later, he found Storm. A swipe of the card and the door slid open.
Storm sat with his back to the wall, his hands on his knees. His hair was unkempt and shaggy. His face had several days’ growth of beard, and the place stank of excrement.
“You look like you’ve seen better days,” Hawk said, senses alert to everything around them, searching for the merest hint he’d been discovered.
“Yeah, and you’re still as beautiful as ever.” Storm was probably the only person alive who could have said that and gotten away with it, but Hawk couldn’t have cared less. Storm was alive. Something tight in his chest loosened just a little, and he managed a small smile.
“Let’s get the hell outta here so you can take a bath. You stink.” Storm was on his feet and moving out of the cell. He was much thinner but didn’t appear to have suffered any lasting effects. On his way out of the cell, Storm snagged the swipe card as he passed Hawk and headed deeper into the cell block.
Confused, Hawk followed, figuring his friend had a good reason for doing whatever he was doing.
“Do we have time for this?” Hawk whispered softly to Storm, knowing the other man’s enhanced hearing would pick up the sound.
“We’re making time.”
Hawk recognized Storm’s tone and knew there was no arguing with his friend.
Better to just follow him and be done with it rather than take the time for an argument Hawk had no hope of winning.
It didn’t take long for Storm to find the right cell. At first, Hawk thought the inside was empty, but then he noticed a slight movement in the far corner. He thought it was a small dog at first. All he could truly make out was a mass of dark brown hair.
Then the mass moved, rising a little so he saw large eyes on a too-small face.
“Christ!” Storm’s curse was soft, but still audible and so full of caged fury even Hawk glanced at him. His face was an expressionless mask, but his eyes blazed with leashed rage. Storm scooped up the small bundle, and Hawk realized it was a woman.
Well, more like a girl. Hawk doubted she was out of her teens. She was dressed in rags that did nothing to conceal her body, and she was covered in blood and filth.
Hawk kept careful watch, keeping all his enhanced senses on the alert.
Something didn’t feel right. They had exactly seven minutes before the camera sweep, but something had the fine hairs on the back of Hawk’s neck prickling. He watched as Storm used gentle fingers to push the girl’s hair away from her face, murmuring softly to her.
“We need to go, Storm. Now.” Hawk knew it was all going to hell. He could feel it in his bones. They still had to make it up the stairs to the guard tower or they were stuck.
Storm draped the girl over his shoulder, his arm securing her legs. She looked like dead weight to Hawk. If they had to fight their way out -- and Hawk was growing more and more sure they would with every passing second -- there was no way she could go with them under her own power. He started to question Storm, but one look at the other man’s eyes and Hawk swallowed his protest. Hell, he couldn’t leave the girl behind any more than Storm could. She obviously wouldn’t last much longer in this hellhole.
Hawk tossed the guard’s gun to Storm, and both men sprinted back down the cell block to the stairs. As they approached, Hawk heard battle sounds, complete with a Valkyrie’s battle cry.
“Son of a fucking bitch!” It could only be Onyx. The infuriating woman had come after him and was holding off the security teams so they could escape. Part of him was grateful for her help, but another, more primitive part was furious. And scared out of his mind. Hawk had to hold the beast inside him at bay, keep a clear head, or they were all dead.
Chapter Four
Hawk sprinted ahead in a semi-crouch, gun at the ready, taking the stairs three at a time. The seconds it took to ascend the long stairway se
emed an eternity. Gunfire zinged heavy in the air from lasers as well as traditional firearms. Smoke from singed bulkheads drifted into the small passage as Hawk approached the guards’ station.
Onyx had jammed the door open, defending it with a viciousness Hawk couldn’t help but admire. She wielded two huge military issue guns. Muscles bunched over her arms, shoulders and back with every shot of her weapons. Hawk noticed a fresh burn across the outside of her biceps, but she didn’t stop.
Sweat made her dark skin glisten in the dim lighting as all around her guards dropped one by one. To Hawk, she looked like an avenging angel. Time seemed to slow, and Hawk couldn’t pull his gaze away from her. He’d known from the moment he saw her she was the woman for him, but until this very instant he hadn’t known just how much he needed to possess her. It was completely inappropriate, more than a little dangerous to him, to her, and to Storm and his stowaway, but Hawk sported the biggest hard-on of his life.
“Don’t just stand there, get them moving!” Onyx didn’t turn her head, didn’t look at him, but Hawk knew she felt his presence. The same way he’d known she was there fighting for their freedom.
Her words spurred him on, ushering Storm out into the open area above the prison. They advanced steadily, shooting anything that moved. More than one laser singed Hawk’s skin as they fought out of the inner station back to the more crowded outer ring. Thankfully, nothing scored a direct hit and he kept moving, kept pushing Storm. Onyx was always at his back, covering them. It seemed natural to Hawk, fighting with her. He brushed her body with his continually, assuring himself she was right behind him. It went against everything in him to let her bring up the rear, but he knew the real danger was ahead of them, the numbers greater near the hangar and their ship.
“Did you get us free of the tractor?” Hawk’s question was barely audible in the ongoing chaos.
“Yes,” Onyx shouted over her shoulder. “We should be able to leave as soon as we get aboard.”
Hawk had to rely on directional postings on the bulkheads as well as his memory of the station layout to get them back to the outer station. Twice they had to double back, and it was becoming increasingly clear they had virtually no chance of getting out of the prison section alive. The longer they took getting to the ship, the more security personnel had time to meet them and prevent their escape.
Finally, finally, Hawk burst into the hangar. It wasn’t where he’d thought they’d been heading, but he’d take what he could get at this point. The ship was on the other side of the bay, but at least they had adequate cover between them and the security teams coming at them from both the front and rear.
“Go!” He waved Storm toward the ship, covering his friend by laying down fire in the general direction of their transport. Onyx moved with him, shadowing him as gracefully as any dancer. The stench of ozone permeated the air as sparks flew from the bulkheads where laser fire hit.
Hawk moved them steadily toward the ship, covering Storm as he went, careful to draw fire away from his friend and the woman he carried.
Once he knew Storm was safely aboard, he grabbed Onyx’s arm. “Move!” he shouted to her as he took a more direct route to the ship. “I’ll cover you and go around the left side.”
He didn’t wait to see if she followed his direction but continued to draw fire away from the ship and Onyx. Several times laser fire caught him but only grazed his skin. He shrugged away the pain and kept on fighting. He’d been burned by lasers before. What were a few more scars to add to the ones he already had?
When Hawk was sure Onyx had had enough time to reach the ship, he made his way there, firing several shots with every step. He backed up the ramp, closing it as he continued to pummel the security guards with laser fire until the ship was completely sealed and ready for take off.
Hawk fell back against the bulkhead for a second, breathing hard before moving into the cockpit. He started to take the copilot’s chair beside Storm, but a quick glance told him Onyx wasn’t there.
“Where’s Onyx?” His chest clenched, and for a moment Hawk thought he might throw up. What a strong space marine he was turning out to be.
“I thought she was right behind you.” Storm glanced at Hawk, his hand on the controls. They had been about to take off, but Storm hesitated. “What do you want me to do?”
Hawk spared him a sharp glance before turning to go back. The girl Storm had brought with them spoke then. Her voice was soft but slightly rusty, as if she hadn’t used it in a while. “I think she was injured. She was next to the crates by the big yellow ship docked two moorings down from us.”
She might not look like more than a prison rat, but the girl was observant.
Knowing where to look for Onyx would help tremendously.
Opening the ramp once more, Hawk went at a dead run, shooting all the while.
Storm provided cover fire from the ship which made a hell of a lot better impact than their hand-held weapons.
Laser fire sliced through the air, always just missing him. Hawk sent up a silent prayer to any god willing to listen. The number of opposing soldiers grew by the second, and their chances of getting back to the ship were slim at best. Sweat ran into his eyes, blurring his vision, but he pressed on, shutting out all discomfort. He had one goal. Find Onyx. After that, he’d worry about getting them to safety.
He found her right where the girl had said she was. Someone had scored a hit on her left thigh. The stench of burning flesh was strong. Had he not been the battle-hardened veteran he was, he might have retched.
Onyx, for her part, might not be able to make a run for it, but she wasn’t sitting by passively either. “Hand me my gun.” She barely looked up at him. Working on stuffing a ripped strip of cloth into a couple of liquor bottles, the only thing she concentrated on was the task at hand. Sparks from exploding laser fire rained down around her, but she barely seemed to notice as she sat the behind the bulky titanium crate.
“Are you fucking nuts? We’ve got to get out of here!” Hawk was convinced the woman was certifiable. They needed to get back to the damned ship.
“Hush and help me,” she replied as if they weren’t being shot at.
If they made it out of this alive, he was going to kill her.
Hawk fired off several shots as he shoved the gun at her. That was when he noticed two other bottles with strips of cloth jammed into them with about an eight-inch section of the material draped over the lip of the bottles. “What the hell are you doing?”
She had the nerve to grin at him. “Making Molotov Cocktails, of course.” The wicked glee in her eyes told him whatever it was had to be destructive. Onyx was nothing if not bloodthirsty.
“A firebomb isn’t going to help us here, Onyx. Titanium isn’t exactly flammable.”
She snorted, shaking her head as she reached for the last bottle at her side.
“Obviously you’ve never taken Onyx’s class on the Proper Making of a Molotov Cocktail.”
“Other than the drink, I’ve never had the pleasure, no,” Hawk replied, dryly.
“You’re more of a man than I thought if you actually drink that rotgut.” Hawk fired off several more shots, gritting his teeth to keep from rising to her barb. He watched as she quickly dismantled her gun, pulling out the power core and dropping it into the last bottle. The cloth she stuffed into the bottle was wet --
presumably with alcohol. Pulling out a mini-torch from a flap in the side of her boot, she quickly lit the first of the three homemade bombs.
Turning to him, she grinned, obviously not distressed by her wound in the least.
“Down the hatch, big boy.” Onyx threw the bottle as hard as she could, her hair whipping around her face with the forward momentum. The bottle struck the floor in front of a small group of security taking cover behind the landing skiff of a nearby ship.
Hawk expected a small fireball, but the ensuing explosion knocked him on his ass.
Literally.
“Son of a bitch, that was big!”<
br />
Onyx snorted. “Of course. Anything worth doing is worth doing big.” She calmly lit another one and hurled it. Hawk was prepared this time and ducked closer to the crate, avoiding the shockwave. He laid down more cover fire as Onyx threw the third bottle.
When the third makeshift bomb detonated, Hawk scooped her up in a fireman’s carry and sprinted back to the ship. She wasn’t a small woman by any means, but Hawk was genetically and cybernetically enhanced. He also had a will of iron. He was getting Onyx back to the ship and safety no matter what.
Storm had abandoned the large, bulky ship guns for two rifles which he wielded like handguns, firing over and over in different directions. Hawk stumbled but managed to keep his footing. A dozen strides later he flung Onyx into the ship as he followed, Storm already raising the ramp and lifting off.
Hawk wasn’t sure what happened after that, though Storm must have managed a clean getaway because no one shot at them. All he could do was lie flat on his back, panting and sweating. He took a quick inventory of his injuries and determined he had nothing life-threatening. He hurt like hell from several burns over his arms and legs, and one on the side of his face, but other than that, he’d survived intact.
“Where else are you hit?” he asked Onyx as he rolled over, getting to his knees and crawling to her side.
“Just my leg. Thank goodness it was a laser. The wound is cauterized. Hurts like hell but it’s not bleeding.”
Hawk merely grunted as he pulled out a med kit. He ran a small scanner over her leg, punching in adjustments as the module told him to. A few minutes later, the worst of the damage was repaired and an anesthetic applied to ease her pain.
She looked at him, meeting his gaze squarely. “Thanks for coming after me.” He snorted. “I should have left your ass there. I told you to stay here!” Now that the adrenaline was leaving his system, Hawk found himself shaking. He’d nearly lost her! She’d deliberately disobeyed him, and it had almost cost her life.
Wanted Molotov Cocktail Page 2
