Blindsided, page 19
part #1 of Book Two Series
They went up the three flights of stairs they’d descended.
“Up one more,” Mickey said, and he and Ruby watched as they climbed yet one more set of stairs.
“Wait,” he said as they reached the door. “There are a lot of people on this floor. I think I should set off the alarms now.”
Which would cause chaos, but also provide cover.
“Copy that,” Rafe said and slid his SIG away.
Mickey’s fingers danced across the keyboard, and a moment later, a loud, blaring siren sounded throughout the compound, a jarring, angry sound that made everyone flinch. As one, people looked up, as if they expected the ceiling to announce what was happening. And then, with a bleated cry of panic, they began to scramble.
“Go now,” Mickey said, and Rafe and Sean slid out of the stairwell just as the first rush of people pushed past them and began to climb.
“Why the hell are they going up?” Rafe demanded. “The bay is closer.”
“No security clearance,” Mickey replied. “They can’t get through the doors.”
“Where am I going, son?” Sean asked as they moved against the flow of people headed for the stairs.
“Forward. The hall you’re in leads to the lab.”
He had to yell to be heard above the siren, which was deafening, sounding both through their hack into the building’s security systems and on both Rafe and Sean’s body cams.
A few people gave them suspicious looks, but most were far more concerned with not dying by fire and hurried blindly past. By the time they reached the inner lab—a large, round room filled with built-in coolers, tall, steel cages, a massive bank of computers, and in its center, a narrow, rectangular room with glass walls—the negative pressure room—there were no more people, just white walls and the jarring, unwelcome screech of the siren.
“Here,” Sean said as he halted before a tall, narrow cooler with shelves lined with vials of bright green liquid.
“Dial it in and let’s go,” Rafe told him shortly.
“Just keep your britches on,” Sean replied and put down his pack. He pulled a brick of C4 out and taped it carefully to the glass door of the cooler.
Then came the wire.
“How close are you?” Pete wanted to know.
“Three soddin’ minutes,” Sean retorted, clearly annoyed.
“I’ve got five men headed your way,” Mickey said suddenly. His voice rose. “They’re armed. They don’t…I don’t think they’re security. They look…worse.”
Ruby’s heart slammed into her ribs. She looked at the monitor that held Mickey’s attention to see four giant men striding toward the lab, all armed, none of whom appeared to be worried about fire.
More Russians.
Behind them walked the one-eared man.
“Fuck,” she said, staring at him.
He looked up at the camera he was walking past and smiled at her.
Then the feed went dark.
“Shite!” Mickey cried.
“What?” Sean demanded.
“We lost the building feed,” Ruby told him.
“They closed Trudy’s door,” Mickey corrected. “That’s why I built another.”
Rafe’s body cam swung wildly, a blur of indistinguishable scenes. The one Sean wore reflected the lab door opening, the giants storming in—
Another wild blur. A screech, a thud. A violent explosion of gunfire.
Ruby stared at the monitors, trying to follow the confusing whirl of movement.
“Rafe,” she said unwillingly.
But he didn’t reply. His camera tilted drunkenly as he rolled to his feet, then a big, black form was swarming toward him, and he grunted. Another thud; the sound of bone hitting bone.
“Hurry,” she said.
“I am hurrying,” Mickey snarled.
Another gunshot; the black shape in front of Rafe fell. But then something hit him from behind, and he flew forward. Sean crashed into him and they went down in a terrifying tangle Ruby couldn’t sort out. And then Mickey got the building feed back.
The siren cut off abruptly. Two men were on the floor, pools of blood spreading below them. But the other two were shoving Rafe and Sean into chairs and securing their hands with thick plastic ties.
Both were bleeding. Rafe had a cut on his left cheek; Sean’s grin was bloody.
“Well, look who it is,” Sean said. “Van Gogh!”
Rafe only stared at the one-eared man, his face cold and still in a way that made Ruby remember the predator she’d met in her apartment.
Which terrified her. Because she just wanted him to get the hell out of there.
And he wasn’t going to go without a chunk of the one-eared man hanging from his teeth.
“No,” she said softly, knowing he could hear.
He smiled coldly. “Go.”
And she knew he was talking to her.
“Now,” he added.
She stood frozen, staring at him.
Mickey, too, wasn’t moving.
“Go,” he said again, his voice so gentle, she suddenly shivered.
But there was no way in hell.
“I’m on my way,” she told him.
Twenty-Six
“Your brother said you would come.”
Rafe’s heartbeat was an angry hammer.
Goddamn her.
Go, he’d told her.
And she’d said, I’m on my way.
“Jackie was a man who inspired loyalty.” Sean shrugged in the face of the one-eared man’s taunt. He was sprawled indolently in the chair to which they’d tied him. “We came a long way to kill you, VG.”
What the fuck did I’m on my way mean? That she thought she was going to ride to the rescue?
When he’d told her very specifically to go?
They weren’t done yet. Neither he nor Sean was ready to roll over and play dead. But getting caught by this one-eared bastard hadn’t been part of Plan A, which meant everything was now Plan B. And Plan B was Ruby going.
Taking the boys and getting out.
“Kill some time,” Pete ordered in his ear. “I’ll come to you.”
Rafe growled. Goddamn it.
Neither one of them was supposed to launch a rescue mission. Ruby was in charge of getting the kids out, and Pete was in charge of getting Ruby out.
That’s what they’d agreed to.
“Get him talkin’,” Mickey added, further proof Ruby had blown past Plan B. “I’ll record it.”
Another growl escaped him. Sean looked at him and lifted a brow.
“What did you expect, old man?” he asked.
“I told him that when you came, we would kill you, too,” the one-eared man announced.
Sean just turned and looked at him, while Rafe dislocated his left thumb so he could work his way out of the plastic ties that bound his hands to the back of the chair.
“He was a fine man, my brother,” Sean said thoughtfully. “Better than any of the men in this room.” He glanced at Rafe. “No offense, old man.”
“None taken,” Rafe told him and pulled one hand free.
The two remaining Russians stood beside the one-eared man, in front of Sean.
He was the one they were worried about.
Which Rafe might have found insulting if it didn’t work so nicely to his advantage.
It’s the red hair. It had to be.
“What kind of man shoots another man in the back?” Sean continued, his eyes cold on the one-eared man. “Or did you think that would go unnoticed?”
The one-eared man smiled. He was bald, his features unremarkable, his eyes a dark, navy blue. A staid, non-descript brown suit; matching shoes. But that smile…that smile was gleeful.
Filled with the anticipation of another’s pain.
“You were the one who tortured him,” Rafe said.
The one-eared man looked surprised. “What makes you think so?”
“Sadistic fuck,” Sean murmured. “It’s written all over your beady little face.”
It was.
“I hate the desert,” the one-eared man said. “But he was worth the trip.”
Sean’s face hardened. “Probably can’t get your rocks off unless you’re causin’ pain. No doubt you have to pay some poor lass to bleed so you can spill yourself.”
The one-eared man scowled. Beside him, his men stood unmoving, giant, stone-faced statues.
They’d taken Rafe’s SIG, his Ruger, the Taser and one of his knives, as well as Sean’s Glock and various other weapons, but he still had the knife he’d taken off the Russian in his boot.
More irony he had to appreciate.
He just had to get to it—and use it—before one of them could take aim and fire.
The odds were not great.
“I pay for nothing,” the one-eared man hissed. “They beg me for it.”
Sean rolled his eyes.
“Your little bird will beg before I’m through,” he continued and smiled again. “She’ll cry such pretty tears.”
Rafe stilled. The predator within him bared its teeth, demanded flesh and blood and screams, but he didn’t move. He hardly breathed. He only waited.
Just fucking wait.
“I wouldn’t go pulling on that tail if I was you.” Sean shook his head. “He’s not what he seems.”
Rafe turned and looked at him. “And what would that be?”
“I dunno.” Sean shrugged. “An underwear model?”
Rafe blinked.
“All of that milk chocolate skin; those cold, freaky eyes.” Sean batted his lashes. “Framed in black and white, lounging in a pair of tighty-whities down by the sea.”
Rafe didn’t know whether to laugh or punch him in the mouth.
“But that lad is a lie,” Sean said. “The real one, the one that lives inside, he’s a violent, brutal, merciless bastard. Just the man I want at my back. But not the one whose eye you want to catch.”
The one-eared man’s dark gaze narrowed. “You talk too much.”
Rafe did laugh then.
Sean scowled at him.
“Your brother took a long time to die,” the one-eared man said. “I think you’ll die faster.”
“I can go all night,” Sean told him silkily.
Rafe shook his head. “Does Sarkovski know you’re killing CIA agents in your spare time?”
That blue gaze swung to him.
“Don’t bother,” Sean said dismissively. “He doesn’t get to talk to Sarkovski. He’s a peon. Look at him.”
The one-eared man bared his teeth and took a step toward them. “I’m not a fool. I know you’re baiting me.”
Sean arched his brows. Rafe got his second hand free and balled the plastic tie in his hand.
He knew just what he wanted to do with it.
“The CIA doesn’t take kindly to losing their own,” he murmured, a blatant lie, but a useful one. “You kill us, more will come.”
“I’m afraid not. We have come to an agreement with your Agency, and they will not interfere.” That gleeful smile flashed. “So long as they get a piece of the pie.”
Which was not a surprise; but still, rather disappointing.
“Fucking politics,” Sean said and spat a mouthful of blood across the one-eared man’s boots.
Which earned him a killing look. “Both the Agency and Mr. Sarkovski understand that sometimes a few eggs must be broken to make breakfast.”
“An omelet,” Rafe told him, disgusted. “You break a few eggs to make an omelet. Idiot.”
For a long, silent moment, the one-eared man stared at him. Then, softly, “She will pay for every insult. I will see to it.”
Fury crackled and burned beneath his skin. “Not after I take your eyes.”
The one-eared man blinked. He looked at Sean.
“I warned you,” Sean said. “He’ll cut your black heart from your chest and feed it to you, bite by bloody bite.”
Rafe smiled, and the one-eared man took a small step backward.
“The Agency might want their cut, but Sarkovski is bankrolling this monstrosity,” Sean said confidently. “Blackbird is his baby.”
The one-eared man only stared at him.
“C’mon, man, spill,” Mickey muttered, and Rafe almost started, because he’d forgotten Mickey was there.
And Pete.
And Ruby.
Where the hell was Ruby?
“Mr. Sarkovski understands the increasingly difficult problems the world faces,” the one-eared man said finally. “If we are to survive, hard choices must be made.”
Sean arched a brow. “Like which races have to go?”
“The world is over-populated.” A shrug. “It cannot be sustained.”
“So Sarkovski and his cuddle-bunny Aramina Gregos have decided to play God. They’ll choose who lives, who dies, who breeds. What color everyone is; what language they speak, what god they worship.” A hard smile. “And the rest of us? May the odds be ever in our favor?”
“Good one,” Ruby said and Rafe froze.
“I’m headed toward you,” she continued. “Keep him talking.”
“Bay door is open, guards are down,” Pete added. He sounded winded. “I’m getting too old for this shit.”
Goddamn them.
Rafe flexed his hands as adrenaline fountained through him.
“Mr. Sarkovski and Ms. Gregos are doing what has to be done,” the one-eared man said simply. “Someone has to. Even your CIA recognizes this. If it is not them, it will only be someone else. If not this virus, then another. This is the reality the world faces. This is just the beginning.”
He didn’t look particularly perturbed by the idea, but Rafe was. Because the bastard wasn’t wrong. With the advancement of gene editing had come an entirely new way of mutating and manipulating viruses, of pinpointing populations and carriers.
Pandora’s Box had been opened, and there would be no going back.
“Did you think you were going to walk in here and just blow everything up?” The one-eared man laughed. “Did you think that would be the end of it?”
“I’m almost to you,” Ruby said.
“Unlocking the door now,” Mickey replied.
“When I walk in, hit the floor.”
Sean’s gaze met his, and panic tore through Rafe.
What was she planning? Was she armed? Was she wearing a vest?
He was. Sean and Pete were. But would she have thought of that? Would Mickey?
And she hated guns. She might have been trained to fire weapons, but that didn’t meant she could hit what she aimed at.
What—
The lab door suddenly slid open and, strangely enough, a fireman strode in, giant hose in hand.
“Now!” Ruby cried.
And Rafe hit the floor.
Water burst out of the hose like a rocket. It surged across the room with so much force, it lifted the fireman from his feet.
Her feet. That fireman was Ruby.
She swore as the hose danced and tossed her backward. The jet of water slammed into the one-eared man and his henchman; they crashed into the coolers with enough force to shatter the glass and leave them rolling around in the shards.
Rafe pushed to his feet. Sean was trying to get up, still stuck to his chair.
Rafe pulled out his knife and cut him loose.
“Were you free the whole bloody time?” Sean demanded as Rafe helped him up.
“Not the whole time.”
“The tank feeding Ruby’s hose is almost empty,” Mickey warned. “It’s not hooked up to an outside source.”
The one-eared man was stumbling to his feet, battling against the pressure of the water, but it wasn’t Sean or Rafe he focused on.
It was Ruby.
Who was still grappling with the hose. She’d lost her helmet, and the bright yellow pants she wore were so big, she could have fit into one pant leg. The coat hung down to her knees, and one of her boots had slipped off.
Something hard slammed into Rafe from behind. He turned as he fell, and a blade kissed his ribcage, slicing through his fleece like butter. He hit the concrete floor hard; it hurt like hell.
One of the Russian henchmen landed on top of him, and his bones groaned in protest. A line of rock hard knuckles plowed into his jaw, and blood burst on his tongue.
And then he heard Ruby say, “Bring it, Van Gogh,” and the predator punched through him to rear up and head-butt the giant on top of him. A fist to the throat followed, then one to the kidney.
Then another, and another. Rafe tore the man’s knife away, rolled over so he was on top, and drove the blade deep into the Russian’s belly.
“Little bird,” Ruby sneered. “Try golden eagle, little mouse!”
Rafe looked up to see her wrapping her hose—which was no longer spraying water—around the one-eared man’s neck. She was on his back, her knees braced against his shoulders as she pulled, yanking him backward with the hose as his eyes bugged out and he fought to get free.
“You’re done killing people,” she hissed. “You’re done breathing.”
Rafe surged to his feet. Beside him, Sean and the other henchman were beating each other stupid, so he reached down, collected the fallen Russian’s 9mm, and put a bullet in the man Sean was fighting.
Then he headed toward Ruby.
“Stupid fucking asshole,” she cried, and tears streamed down her cheeks as she pulled on the hose with all of her might.
The one-eared man convulsed; his face was so red, he looked like his head might explode.
Rafe lifted the 9mm and shot him.
Ruby fell back as her victim suddenly collapsed. She blinked at the bloody hole in the side of his head and then lifted her gaze slowly to Rafe’s.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He nodded and pulled her to her feet.
Then he turned to look at Sean, who was connecting another burner phone to the brick of C4 that remained taped to one of the coolers.
“Clock’s ticking,” he said.
“Right behind you, old man,” Sean replied.
Rafe turned Ruby toward the door. “I told you to go.”
“You’re welcome,” she retorted.
His hand tightened on her arm. “I’m going to paddle your ass.”
“You and what army?”
She stumbled, and he pulled her into his arms and held her for a brief, crushing moment.
