by Robyn Nyx
“She’s not going anywhere with you, Donovan. You don’t deserve her now, and you never have.”
Landry spun around to see Simson leveling the Glock at her. “It’s not about that. It’s never been about that.” Landry thought she could see motion behind Simson, but Mason was still knocked out cold on the ground. She assessed the possibility of being able to dive through the open door to her left, but it was slightly forward and a little too far. She was fast but wouldn’t be fast enough to dodge the bullet. I should’ve picked up a knife. I’m good with a knife. It could’ve been halfway toward Simson’s hand before she even pulled the trigger. She would have got one shot off, but the blade buried in her hand would prevent the second shot. “We’re friends in a way you could only wish to be—no matter how fucked up things get.” Landry decided her only play was to use her words to prompt Delaney into action. She could call off her dog.
On cue, Delaney said, “Sims, it’s over. I’m tired, and I’m done. Put the gun down and we can go home.”
“No, not on her terms.” Simson shook her head and straightened her gun arm. “Not when we’ve come this far. We’ve got Donovan again. All we have to do is stick to the plan. She’s trying to get back in your head. Don’t let her.”
In impossibly slow motion, she saw Simson’s finger begin to squeeze the trigger. Fuck. As the striker hit the casing and ignited the primer, Landry was knocked off balance by a force from beside her. The sharp explosion as the bullet left the barrel reverberated in Landry’s head as she tumbled to the floor, off balance and out of control. She registered the crack of the shockwave and realized Simson had missed. How? Landry hit the floor and looked up to see Jackson with her hands on Simson’s wrists. You were supposed to stay in the truck. Landry scrambled on all fours to get closer to them. Simson shoved Jackson hard against the wall, but she didn’t release her grip. Landry managed to grab hold of Simson’s ankle and jerked it from beneath her. She stumbled to one knee, and as Jackson went with her, Landry could see them both gripping the gun, fighting for control of the trigger.
Landry grasped at Simson’s shirt, trying to get purchase to pull her backward to the floor, and the three of them sprawled into a twisted bundle of bodies. Another explosion was deadened somewhat by the cushioning of flesh around the gun, but its vibration ripped through Landry. Warm liquid seeped around her thigh and a familiar excruciating burning began to register. Not again. Landry forced herself to ignore the pain. She couldn’t have this mission fail a second time.
“Donovan?”
Landry heard Jackson’s voice, but it seemed muted, distressed. The weight on her reduced slightly, and Jackson knelt by her side. The remaining mass keeping her in place was motionless.
“Simson?” Landry looked to Jackson, and she slowly shook her head. Jackson raised her hand. She was holding the Glock Landry had lost in the fray, and she was covered in blood.
Mason stirred and got to her knees. “Sorry, Chief,” she said, holding the back of her head. “I never even heard her coming.” Blood trickled from a head wound down her neck and onto her shirt.
“Delaney?” Landry looked back to Jackson, and she shrugged.
“She took the bullet meant for you. She saw me coming up behind Simson and said nothing. I should’ve been faster.”
Delaney. Landry pushed at Simson’s body, and Mason and Jackson hauled her off. Even in death, her eyes bored at Landry in something akin to hatred. Her jealousy of Delaney’s feelings for Landry seemed so overly dramatic. She’d never really understood the depth of Simson’s loathing for her, and now she never would.
“Fuck. You’re shot.”
Landry waved Mason away as she reached to tend to her wound. “It’s not fatal.” If her femoral artery had been compromised by the bullet, Landry knew she’d already be half way dead. She’d felt better, sure, but death wasn’t calling on her today. Her concern was Delaney. She crawled across the dirty, concrete floor to the felled body of her best friend. “Don’t you dare be dead,” she whispered. She leaned over Delaney’s chest and watched for the slow heave of breathing.
“She always was a terrible shot.” Delaney’s voice was hoarse and weak, but she was alive.
Landry laughed and softly punched Delaney in the side. “What’re you doing, taking my bullet?”
Delaney reached into her pocket and pulled out Landry’s pocket watch. She pressed it into Landry’s hand. “Here’s something else I took of yours…I’m sorry, Landry. For all of it.” She coughed and blood bubbled from her mouth.
Landry wrapped one hand around the watch and her other hand grasped Delaney’s. She finally saw Delaney’s chest wound, close enough to her heart to be a problem. There was no way she’d be able to make the jump and hold on to her time string.
“Any chance you can forgive me before I leave?”
Landry gripped Delaney’s hand tighter. “You’re not going anywhere, Dee. Stay with me.”
Delaney swallowed, and her whole body convulsed with the effort. She managed a smile. “It’s okay, Landry. Let me go.”
Landry shook her head, and the brutal sting of tears spiked her eyes, more painful than the gunshot wound in her leg. “No. I won’t.” I can’t.
“Please, Landry. I need to hear you say it.”
Landry strained to smile. “I forgive you. Love makes us do crazy shit.” She felt a presence behind her.
“Can I take a look? You know I’ve got some training.” Mason asked.
Delaney’s eyes closed. Landry released her hand and gripped Delaney’s shoulders. “Don’t you fucking dare give up.” She shook her but there was no response. Mason knelt on the other side of Delaney, and she felt Jackson’s hands on her.
“Donovan? Move away. Let Makenzie see what she can do.”
Landry’s grief caught in her throat. Tears blurred her vision, and her body rocked with the sobs she struggled to keep inside. “Please…” She closed her eyes and fought back the tightening claws around her heart, resisted the banshee scream she wanted to let rip from her mouth. “Please…don’t let her die.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Brooke helped Donovan to her feet. She’d heard the break in Donovan’s voice, but by the time they faced each other, any physical trace of her heartbreak had disappeared. The subtle display of emotion humanized her somewhat, but it didn’t make her any less of a hero. If anything, it was nice to know she was capable of such a strong attachment and susceptible to compassion. The bond between Donovan and Delaney clearly ran deep. For Donovan to forgive Delaney everything she’d done evidenced the strength in their relationship. For Delaney to sacrifice herself to save Donovan…
As Brooke had returned from securing Muniz in the trunk of Donovan’s truck, she’d stopped cold when she slowly rounded the corner and faced Delaney. She could’ve alerted Simson. She could’ve pulled her own gun and trained it on Brooke. But instead, Delaney had ghosted her eyes and blanked her, allowing her to get the jump on Simson. Not early enough to prevent Delaney from being shot as she pushed Donovan out of the path of Simson’s bullet, but at least she was able to stop her from discharging another.
“Where’s Muniz?” Donovan asked as she collapsed onto a set of stacked pallets, her hand pressed firmly on her bleeding thigh.
“He’s secure in the truck. Let me fix your leg and then I’ll get him.” Brooke pulled out her buck knife to slice open Donovan’s jeans and get to the bullet wound.
Donovan put up her hand to stop her. “No. I don’t know what you mean by ‘secure,’ but I suspect he’s not particularly comfortable. Go get him so I can explain what the hell’s been going on. He must be going out of his mind.”
“But—”
Donovan shook her head. “No buts. I’ll keep the pressure on this, and you can do your Florence Nightingale thing when you get back.”
Donovan’s smile was genuine and somehow comforting, but her eyes were darker than usual. It was clear her mind was with Delaney. Brooke looked down at her hand and realized
she was shaking. She shoved her hand back in her pocket. Simson was her first kill. Am I in shock? Getting away from Donovan for a moment might be a good thing. It would give her time to gather herself. Now definitely wasn’t the time to expose her lack of experience and weakness. “Okay. Now don’t move.” She smiled and Donovan laughed easily despite the racking pain she must have been in.
Brooke jogged to the truck, again marveling at Donovan’s strength and composure. She hadn’t crushed this hard since grade school, except this obsession wasn’t sexual. Donovan hadn’t even made a sound when Brooke shot…Crap. I shot her. Both she and Simson had their finger on the trigger. Maybe she could argue that Simson shot herself and therefore Donovan. Would Donovan bring it up? Would it work against her? Now that the mission was all but complete, it had to be the time to talk to Donovan about going with her.
She popped the trunk, pulled Muniz out, and slowly removed the duct tape across his mouth. “I’m really sorry about that,” she said as he put his hand to his lips and rubbed them as if sore. She lifted the false floor and removed a first aid pack. There were supplies in the factory, but she suspected Mason would need most of it. What was in this pack would suffice for Donovan’s injury.
Muniz looked at her through narrowed eyes. He offered up his zip-tied wrists for release, but Brooke shook her head. “Please tell me what’s happening. If you’re going to kill me, why don’t you just go ahead and do it already?”
Pretty feisty for a geek boy. Brooke pressed the key fob to close the trunk and arm the truck. She took his arm and guided him back toward the factory. “Donovan will explain everything, I promise.”
He snorted a dismissive laugh. “You’ll forgive me if I find that hard to believe.”
Muniz half-heartedly stopped walking, but Brooke pulled him along easily and they didn’t speak until they were back in the room with Donovan.
“What? You’re the one who tried to kidnap me in the first place. You said you were with the FBI. They say you were with Pulsus. Which is it?”
Brooke guided Muniz to a chair and gently but firmly pressed him into it. “I’m going to release you, but please don’t try to escape. Just hear her out.” She sliced through the plastic binds with her buck knife and turned back to Donovan. “Now can I help you?”
Donovan smiled and nodded. “Sure, just don’t fuss too much. I’ll get it sorted when we jump back.”
We? Brooke wondered who “we” included, but now wasn’t the time to ask. But soon. “This shouldn’t be too deep. Tearing through Simson’s muscle probably slowed it down plenty before it got to you.”
“You shouldn’t beat yourself up about shooting me.”
Brooke glanced up, but Donovan’s expression gave nothing away until her lips curled into an amused grin. “You shouldn’t worry too much about thanking me for saving your life…again.”
“I won’t. It gives you something to dine out on for a while. Saving a time traveler could be quite the conversation piece for you with friends.”
Brooke’s hope faded with her smile. Donovan’s words implied she was being left behind with a hell of a story to tell.
“If you wouldn’t mind telling me what the hell is going on?”
Muniz’s frustration was warranted. Brooke moved to the side slightly so Donovan could maintain eye contact with him while she worked on her leg.
“Delaney told you about Pulsus, and that Jenkin and Elena had successfully invented time travel and regeneration technology, yes?” Donovan waited until he nodded to confirm. “She rescued you from Diane Kelly who was going to murder you, and they were taking you to DC tomorrow…”
Donovan flipped open the pocket watch Brooke had seen Delaney give her to check the time, and she wondered what significance it held to them both.
“They were taking you to DC this morning, supposedly to reunite you all so you could continue with your research. Sound familiar so far?”
“Yes, yes, nothing new.”
His lack of patience was clear, but Brooke didn’t like the way he was talking to Donovan. She felt oddly protective. “Are you okay?” Brooke had made small incisions at each side of Donovan’s thigh where the bullet nestled, but Donovan hadn’t flinched. She was about to dig in with long tweezers.
Donovan raised her eyebrow, and there was a cockiness in her smile that told Brooke this gunshot wound was what a mosquito bite would’ve been to her. “I’m fine. Keep going, but pay attention. You should hear this too. They did take you to DC, but it was their intention to kidnap Jenkin and Elena and force you all to continue working, but working for them.”
Brooke dug around a little before she managed to secure a decent grip on the lead core snuggled in Donovan’s skin. She plucked it out and showed it to her as if it were a prize. Donovan barely registered it, so Brooke placed it on the table beside her and set about dressing the open wound.
“Jackson here,” Donovan motioned to Brooke, “followed them because she knew what they were actually planning. She’s got surveillance over in that building.” Donovan nodded to the utility vest on the table beside Muniz. “See that?”
Muniz looked over at it. “Yes.”
His voice was less steady now. Brooke guessed he could see from the wires that it had been modified for a less than pleasant purpose.
“It’s packed with C4, and that’s a remote detonator beside it. Jackson intercepted them in a parking structure before they got to Jenkin and Elena.”
Brooke stopped wrapping the bandage around Donovan’s muscled thigh and waited for the punch line. I get to know what I’m not going to have the chance to do. “What happened?”
Donovan put her hand on Brooke’s forearm. It seemed an unusual gesture in the situation, but she still appreciated it.
“We’re not sure of the exact details, and we can’t ever know what happened because we’ve already changed the future by collecting you and coming here tonight. That vest,” Donovan pointed again to the C4-laden utility vest laid ominously on the table, “exploded and killed everyone in the van.”
Brooke’s heart thudded against her rib cage as the enormity of Donovan’s words registered. “I did die in the line of duty—”
“Just like your dad.”
Brooke felt her legs waver, and she quickly sat beside Donovan before they gave way. “I’ll never know if I was an idiot or a hero.”
Donovan ruffled Brooke’s hair. “Sometimes the distinction between the two is simply a matter of perspective. You stopped their plan, and you made it possible for me to come back and finish this mission. That’s all I need to know, Brooke.”
Brooke glanced up at Donovan when she used her first name. It was a gentle familiarity and felt like a seal of approval or acceptance of some sort. Whatever it was, Brooke cherished the moment.
“What have you come back to do with me?” Muniz asked.
Brooke shot him a look for breaking her connection with Donovan.
“I’m here to offer you the chance to go forward to 2076 and work with Jenkin and Elena in a time with better technology. And somewhere you can be safe, rather than living in hotels and scurrying around the country like a hunted animal.”
Muniz laughed. “I can tell you, I’ve felt exactly like a hunted animal today.”
He rose from his chair, and it seemed a hum of excitement had replaced his earlier irritation and frustration.
“It’s been a long day,” Donovan muttered.
Brooke had no idea how long this day had been for Donovan. Long enough in this time for her to be captured, beaten, and tortured, but then she’d gone forward to 2076 for who knew how long, and now she was back again. Not in quite as bad shape as the last time, but still. Add that to Delaney throwing herself in front of a bullet meant for Donovan, and who the hell could know how Donovan was feeling.
She finished dressing Donovan’s leg and backed up, busying herself with clearing up the mess.
“Are you coming or taking your chances in this time?”
They were the
words Brooke wanted to hear Donovan say to her, but she knew they were for Muniz. He was the genius scientist they’d all come here to save in the first place.
“Need you ask? The lure of Elena has always been a factor in my work.”
Brooke didn’t miss the look of “stay away from my mom” on her face, but Muniz was oblivious. As intelligent as he was, he apparently hadn’t figured out the connection.
Donovan rose from her seat and tried to put some weight on her injured leg. She hobbled a little and began to head for the door. “I need to see Delaney.”
Brooke reached out and caught hold of Donovan’s arm. “Then can we talk?”
Donovan nodded. “Yeah. We need to talk.”
Damn. Now that it was out there, Brooke wasn’t certain she wanted to hear what Donovan might have to say. The voice of her dad filled her head. Let the chips fall, kiddo.
Chapter Twenty-three
Landry didn’t know why Mason had insisted on working on Delaney alone, but she trusted her and hadn’t had the strength to insist Jackson should help. As Landry made her way along the corridor to the room where Jackson and Mason had carried Delaney, she slowed her pace. Pull it together. She had to be ready for whatever was around the corner. Landry had been tasked with bringing everyone back, but she knew Pulsus was most concerned that she return with Muniz. There’d be few tears shed for Simson, but going back without Delaney wouldn’t go down well with the other extractors and operatives. Fuck them. How am I gonna deal with it?
Delaney lay on a gurney motionless, but there was a saline drip connected to her arm, and Mason stood by her. Landry felt the cold grip of fear loosen slightly.
“She’s stable. They had a pretty good setup here.” She looked at Landry and shrugged. “I guess they planned to make sure they could keep you alive while Simson worked on you.”
“No doubt.” Delaney’s words and non-action tonight were evidence she had no real commitment to letting Landry be Simson’s play thing. “Is she conscious?”
