Delta: Revenge, page 17
Staying down and crawling to her closet, she ignored the explosions outside the embassy buildings and pushed to grab a helmet and a mask that she never expected to need as another blast hit the building.
The scent of smoke, no longer faint, carried through the air vents. Something close by was on fire, and she needed to get to the safe room. Why hadn’t any of the armed guards been to her room yet? Easy answer: they were busy. This wasn’t a drill, and Sophia needed to get her ass in gear.
Keeping low, she covered her face with the mask, praying to God there weren’t chemical weapons in play, and then pulled on the hat and tied the chin strap. Another blast rocked the building like an earthquake.
She put her palm to the doorknob, testing for heat, and carefully turned the cool metal. The hallway was dark. They had generators to keep from having outages, but not even the emergency lights blinked. Janella’s room was to the left, and the way to the safe room was on the right, down the stairs closest to Jensen and Brackster’s bedroom suites.
Sophia ran to Janny’s closed door, slamming her fists hard. “Janny!”
No answer.
“Janella!”
There was no way that she would’ve passed Sophia’s closed door and not checked to make sure she was moving. What time was it? Janny woke up far earlier than Sophia, and maybe she was in the kitchen or the laundry. Both were near the safe room. Where was everyone? God!
“Hello?” She needed someone she recognized to appear for a moment of reassurance. But there was nothing. The place was like a ghost town under attack.
Sophia ran toward the stairs, and another blast hit, throwing her off balance. The hits were powerful, like grenades or bombs. The intensity level was far past a gunfight.
Didn’t intel see it coming? Why weren’t they more on guard, and why did Delta leave?
“Hello?” There was no response in the growling darkness except for another shake of the very stout building. It tossed her up, and Sophia stumbled on the stairs. Her shoulder slammed, biting into the wall, and her grip slipped. The face mask went up, and her helmet went down. Vision obscured, Sophia fell. The edge of each stair bit into her as gravity tugged her down. Her face smashed as she came to a stop.
Stomach swirling, pain spinning—everything hurt. Blood seeped into her mouth. Her cheekbones ached as much as her body stung and cried silently for help. Empty, airless lungs made her mind rush in panic, and each limb was bruised, scraped, and maybe broken.
Coughing, she gasped as oxygen reinflated her lungs. “God. Help me.”
For a moment, all she could hear was the wail of the warning sirens. The blare bounced off the walls. She tried pushing up. Her throbbing wrist was of little use, and her elbow screamed in pain.
Sophia coughed and swallowed awkwardly. Her ribs hurt as she wheezed in the acrid air. Where were the people who were supposed to protect them?
A loud, close bang hit the front door. Her head jolted up, her eyes narrowing on the locked, reinforced door. Words she couldn’t decipher shouted on the other side. Whoever was out there had passed the gates and the guards and was physically trying to enter.
She needed help. She needed Javier.
For a long moment, she knew he would be the man behind the door. There was no doubt that the shouts she didn’t understand would stop because he would protect her. She knew without a doubt that Javier was a superhero who could arrive in the nick of time and wipe out the bad guys—lift her up, heal her injuries, shield her from the hell of being in a blacked out, siren-screaming embassy under attack when she had yet to see anyone else, either staff or soldier.
Fear made her shiver. But the high-pitched shouts that she heard behind the blaring alarm struck her as different. They were excited but backing away—damn it, they were going to blast the door. Why wasn’t Javier here?
Oh, to hell with him; he didn’t matter. Sophia pushed through pain and half stumbled, half fled down the hall toward the kitchen, gasping and coughing. “Janny!”
No one responded. She moved through the pantry area, still watching for her friend. No light reached back there.
Sophia tripped, slamming to the ground. Everything hurt. Her head spun, and as she yelled and kicked at what had taken her down, she heard Janny’s hoarse voice pleading to be left alone, to be given help. Her breaths were fast, her gasps loud enough that Sophia could hear them in between the beats of wailing alarms.
“Janny.” She bit her lip as she crawled into the darkness, reaching her friend. “What’s the matter?”
“Oh, Lord.” Gasp. “Sophia.” Gasp. “This isn’t good.”
Shit. “Are you hurt?”
Did she fall? Was she hit on the head, or had something broken her ribs? Janella was heavier, older, and not nearly in the kind of shape that she needed to be in. That was part of her charm but also part of why she couldn’t move.
“Chest.”
“Something hit you?” But with the commotion and the mask, no one would be able to hear her.
“My.” Janny sucked a deep, painful breath. “Chest.”
“Your chest?” Oh, shit. “Your chest.”
“Yes.”
She pulled up the mouth piece to make sure Janny heard her. “You’re not having a heart attack, Janella. No, ma’am.”
“If you—ah—say so—”
Okay. Whatever they had to do, they couldn’t sit in the dark in the pantry. They needed to get to the safe room, where there was a medical kit. Surely there was something in their supplies that would help—aspirin to start with or glycerin. Whatever they gave heart patients for pulmonary distress.
A loud explosion ripped into the front of the building. The front door would be breached soon if it wasn’t hanging on hinges already. Sophia ripped her gas mask down, taking the risk and needing to communicate. “We have to get to the safe room.”
Janny nodded, hearing the same thing and coming to the same conclusion. Sophia grabbed Janny’s sweat-soaked body and hooked under her armpits, tugging and lifting, grunting through the muffled groans of pain. Janella didn’t budge.
“Go.” The order came out as a gasped whisper.
Sophia pushed her weight into Janella, acting as a human fulcrum. “Like hell. Get up.”
“Soph—” Gasp. “—ia.”
“Shut up and try, damn it.”
Sweat poured down Janella’s face. Fear and pain, exertion and desperation made her shake. Janella leaned into Sophia, and together, they gritted through their agony, growling their intention to survive.
“Ain’t good,” Janny mumbled.
“It’ll be okay.” The only other option was to die, and there was no way that was happening today.
Between their arms and the walls, they managed to round the corner of the dark hall, heaving and breathing on their fight to the safe room.
“Almost there, Janny. Come on, honey.”
Janella grunted a response. They had ten feet to go—just a few yards, but it seemed like miles.
The access panel was next to the hidden door of the safe room, which was more like a safe bunker; it could be entered via a keypad on a separate power source. So even if the lights were out and the ventilation system stopped working, they could still get inside and safely stay put until the all clear was given.
“Here we are.” Sophia leaned an arm onto the reinforced door, sweating and exhausted. Her trembling hand punched in the code, and the red light flicked to green. A pressurized release sounded, and she tugged the door open.
Empty. Where were Jensen and Brackster?
“Come on, Janny.” Sophia heaved the woman in behind her then pulled the door shut. They both collapsed on the floor, breathing in gasping tandem. Janny rolled to her side, and Sophia pushed to her knees. Medical kit. They needed to find that. A well-stocked shelf of supplies stood in the corner next to tanks and medical equipment. There was definitely not time for a defibrillator or oxygen. Rows of prescriptions, all labeled but meaning nothing to her and didn’t do shit. They were knocked down and out of order. The room looked as though it had been tossed, but it was probably just the intense vibrations from the attacks.
Nothing was where it should be. Panic made her mind spin. Uncertainty made her next move unclear. She needed a shit’s-gone-down-now-do-this manual. Sophia forced her hurting hands to her sides and breathed deeply until she could control the piercing, debilitating fear.
Her heart rate slowed. She opened her eyes and focused on the scattered, unorganized mess of supplies. The bottle of aspirin would help—no manual needed for that. She’d been educated by TV commercials enough to know that Janny should suck down some of those babies. “Janny, open up.”
Sophia fumbled the bottle open. Her hands shook. She doled out two baby aspirins, having no idea if that was fruitless or enough, then popped out another one. Without questioning, Janella took the offered pills and swallowed them down.
“Okay.” Sophia sank back to the floor.
“Okay,” Janny mumbled.
“Are you still having a heart attack?”
“Child,” she wheezed. “Lord. Maybe a panic attack? Don’t think heart attacks just stop, and I didn’t die.”
“No, you didn’t.” Sophia laughed flatly. “Thank God for that.”
“We’re the only ones here.”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “What do you think that means?”
“We’re in trouble. That’s what that means.”
“Is there a comm system in here?” Sophia spun to inspect the room again. Outside, the sirens still blared. There was still live action happening, and their enemy had breached the embassy. Even if there wasn’t a way to communicate with the outside world, help had to be on its way.
“Do you pray?” Janella asked.
For an angel. For Javier. To a God that wouldn’t let them die that day. “Yes.”
“We need to pray.”
They fell silent, the world around them loud and brash while, in the safe room, there was nothing but the sound of breathing and sniffles. And Sophia prayed. Hard. Her fingernails bit into her palms as she squeezed her fists tight.
Dear Lord. Help me. Help us. Save us. There’s too much good to do, too many ways to do it. Let us live. Give me the chance to fight. Think of Hana. The women and children that need a voice. I can be that. Let me be that. Let me survive.
The building shook, and her eyes pinched closed. Janella unsuccessfully stifled a yip of fear.
I need your help.
All she could picture was Javier. Javier opening the door. Javier knowing how to help Janny. Javier whisking her into his arms, whispering that it would be okay, and walking them out of the building that had been made safe under his protective eye.
Beep.
Sophia’s eyes flew open. Janny twisted for the door. There was another beep. Beep. Beep.
Access denied. Shit. The safe room had been found.
Janella inched back onto the floor. “That’s not good.”
“No,” she whispered. “It’s not.”
Bam!
“Shoot!” Janella pushed back again as though a few inches would save them from a breached safe door.
“It’s bulletproof. They can’t get in.”
“They know we’re in here.”
“No one knows we’re in here except our guys, who will get us out.”
“Where are they?” Janny’s voice jumped pitch.
“I don’t know!” Sophia’s heart slammed in her chest, fear leaving her weak, but she wouldn’t show that. Never. All she had to do was calm down.
The light flickered and failed. The room went pitch black.
“Shit!”
“Oh, Lord. They know we’re in here.”
Her pulse pounding in her neck, Sophia nodded. “We need those things.”
She dropped to her knees and crawled over the supplies on the ground, searching blindly for glow sticks or flashlights. They shouldn’t be hard to find, and she should have located them after she gave Janella the aspirin.
Crawling on screaming hands and knees, Sophia fumbled through boxes and supplies. Finally, she found a flashlight.
She pressed the button, and nothing happened. “Damn it!”
She took a breath and dropped her hand. The flashlight made a noise as she turned it over, frustrated. The weight shifted as though a piece inside had rolled to the opposite part of the handle.
“Maybe there’s another one?” Janny whispered.
Maybe they didn’t need to look. Was it self-creating energy? Sophia shook the light, holding her breath and ignoring the pangs of strain in her wrists and ribs. Out of breath and painted in a sheen of sweat from a benign activity, she pressed the power button and hoped that it would work.
Dim light flickered on. Finally. They needed something to go right.
“Oh, thank you.” Janny wheezed.
Sophia swung the flashlight to Janella. “Amen.”
Their dismal light source didn’t give them any insight into the happenings outside and nearby. But at least they weren’t in the pitch black.
“You still having a heart attack?” she mumbled, holding the light to her chest and using the residual brightness to inspect Janny’s face.
“Think so.” Janny leaned against the wall. “Heart attack. Panic attack. Enemy attack. One of those. So long as I don’t die, I’m okay with it.”
“Me too.”
“Brackster and Jensen are dead.” Janella’s voice was calm and factual as though she were reading the stock quotes.
“You don’t know that.”
“Don’t lie to yourself now.” Janny shook her head. “They weren’t in here.” Gasp. “The embassy is on fire. Explosions. People with guns.” Gasp. “No one came to find us. Jansen and Brackster are top priority.” Cough. Wheeze. “If they weren’t in here, they ain’t anywhere.” Gasp. “They ain’t breathing.”
She bit her lip, agreeing but refusing to do so out loud. “We’re okay, though. It’s a safe room for a reason.”
“The generator’s cut; the air is going to run out. It’s been at least an hour. More?” Hell, Janella sounded as though she were going to run out of air too. But she was also correct.
“What do we—”
Beep. Beep. Beep. Pfffsh.
Pressurized release gave way. The door unlocked, and Sophia’s heart stalled. The room tilted as she waited for the other side to be revealed. If it were the enemy, she would die. Eventually. It wouldn’t be pretty. She hadn’t accomplished everything she wanted to in life. Had she made a difference? Maybe a small one, but nothing that she couldn’t have done better. Fallen in love? Perhaps Josh had been a small love, but nothing compared to how she loved Javier.
Metal clinked and scraped as the door pushed open. The anticipation as to who was on the other side made panic flush over Sophia’s skin, a rush of goose bumps coupled with a vomit-inducing stomachache.
Dim light cast a shadow as their safe room was breached. A glove-covered hand pushed the thick door open, showing a larger-than-life man above them as they cowered on the floor. A terrified whimper pushed through her lips.
“Oh, God,” she and Janella both cried.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Delta had been back to the US for a few hours, waiting on their next deployment’s instructions. Discussion was that they were heading to the Middle East to provide additional security for the Americans working with the Saudis on a project that had been leaked. Either that or Egypt, where life was hell more often than not. Either way, they were having a domestic moment: clean clothes, home-cooked food, and watching a ball game while they waited.
Except all that relaxation BS was over as Javier bolted upright, ready to charge across Trace’s living room, reach through the TV, and shake the news anchor breaking into their show. Headline over his head: Embassy Attack in Honduras.
Javier’s blood froze. “No.”
“Oh, shit.” Trace dropped a spoonful of cereal back into a bowl.
On screen, the news anchor nodded, adjusting an earpiece as he readied to go live into a press announcement. Every second ticked by, ratcheting a fear Javier had never experienced before.
“We interrupt your show tonight with just-breaking news. The US embassy in Honduras sustained mortar attacks.”
Bile crawled up Javier’s throat. “Someone call Colin. See if she was there.” But of course she was there. He’d abandoned her fewer than twenty-four hours ago, crying in the kitchen of an embassy with minimal security. It had more than a US embassy somewhere like England but nowhere near enough to handle mortar strikes.
“Two US officials have confirmed local Primeiro Comando were warned late Tuesday against any violations of the diplomatic immunity of embassy staff and facilities when a staffer was accosted by a local mob upset by the leaked information on what’s been called Whispering Willow.”
“We should’ve brought her home.” His molars ground, and he turned to Trace, who had his phone to his ear. “Who you calling? Colin? Brock?”
“Colin,” Trace mumbled. “No answer.”
“Fuck.” Javier pulled out his phone and called Brock.
“The cartel-led uprising appears to be a continued retaliation for the leaked intelligence on a US-PC informant partnership.”
“Brazil,” Brock answered, obviously knowing why Javier had called. “Give me a second.”
“What do you know?” Javier barked.
“A second.”
One second, then two. Each took longer than an eternity.
“The embassy was closed for several weeks less than a year ago after the resignation of the Honduran president and cabinet. However, it reopened with a skeleton staff to assist in diplomatic efforts in the region. Routine consular activities have been on hold for more than a year. Known occupants of the embassy reportedly—”
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump.
Javier’s heartbeat echoed in his ears. His blood slowed to the speed of molasses. His lungs ached, and he couldn’t make time move fast enough to hear who resided at the embassy.
