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“Gepetto, I’ve got a locked door. I think it’s holding the target.” Snow’s low voice sent a chill down Lucas’s spine, pulling him back at the last second from storming the office.
“Where?”
“Southeast corner just past the bay doors.”
Lucas frowned. He was along the west wall. He’d have to cross the center of the room to get to Snow. “Go hot and get ready to cover me. Blue Fairy check in.”
“Blue Fairy is one minute out. Hold positions.”
“Can’t,” Lucas snarled. They couldn’t waste any more time. “Get your ass here.”
“Fuck,” Rowe whispered but didn’t argue further.
“Go,” Snow barked and Lucas moved. He broke from cover and darted across the main floor, trying to keep an eye on the windows of the office that looked out on the warehouse and the open floor in front of him. Unfortunately, the men in the office had had enough time to adjust to the darkness. The sound of shattering glass crashed through the night followed by the deafening rattle of automatic gun fire. Lucas tripped over the body of one of the men he’d knocked out and started to go down. At the same time, pain ripped through his arm. Gritting his teeth, Lucas tucked into a roll that carried him to the opposite wall as Snow fired back at the men in the office.
“You hit?” Snow demanded as he ducked down and scuttled over to where Lucas was regaining his feet.
“Grazed. I’m fine.”
Snow ignored him, inspecting Lucas’s arm. Reaching inside a pocket in his cargo pants, he pulled out a wad of gauze and some tape. He covered the wound in record time while Lucas covered his friend. “Might need a couple stitches. Nothing serious.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Back off. I’m making sure you don’t leave any easy DNA evidence behind for the cops.”
“Thanks,” Lucas muttered. His friend was right. They were trying to make sure they didn’t drop anything that could be tied to them. “Cover me as I get to the door.”
Snow led the way to the door he’d found and then took position to the side, protecting Lucas as he slid up to the door.
“Blue Fairy inside.”
“Two in the office, armed. We’re at the southeast wall, unlocking the door,” Snow provided.
The door was large and heavy, dented and battered from years of abuse. Lucas quickly checked it and wasn’t surprised to find it locked with a deadbolt. With nimble fingers, he dug out a lock-pick set and began unlocking the door as Rowe joined them.
“The warehouse is clear,” Rowe murmured, his voice seeming to echo with the earpiece.
“Go take care of the two in the office and make sure Andrei isn’t anywhere else. I’ve got this,” Lucas replied, his focus completely on the lock. He knew Andrei was on the other side of the door. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in the back of his throat. Upon reaching the warehouse, his goal has been twofold: Get Andrei and kill the bastard behind this mess. But now that only a door separated him from Andrei, he couldn’t bring himself to care about the bastard that had fucked up his life.
Snow and Rowe paused, as if weighing the wisdom of leaving his side, and then darted away, staying low as they crept toward the office. It took Lucas several tries—he was sorely out of practice when it came to picking locks, something he hadn’t attempted since his teens—but he finally got it open. When the door swung open, his gaze fell on Andrei lying naked on the cold concrete. A soft, anguished cry slipped past Lucas’s lips as he fell to his knees in front of Andrei. He reached trembling hands out to him, almost afraid to touch him to see if he was alive, the man was so still. With a sharp inhale of air, he placed a hand against Andrei’s throat and exhaled loudly. Andrei’s pulse was weak but it was there.
Reaching into his pockets, Lucas pulled out three glow sticks. Snapping and shaking them, he dropped them around Andrei, adding a yellow glow to the room before he pulled off his night vision goggles. Snow would need the light to work, to check him before they could move him to the van Rowe had brought. He inwardly cursed that he hadn’t been able to bring a spare change of clothes or anything to wrap Andrei in. The man’s skin was cold to the touch and it was worrying that he wasn’t even shivering.
The light scrape of a hard-sole shoe was Lucas’s only warning that he wasn’t alone. He reached for his gun as he turned, but it was already too late. Another gun was already in his face, bearing down on him, held by Chris Green, the man he’d spotted in Shiver a month ago. The man he’d turned down for dinner. The man…who must have placed a bug in his house on his one visit to see Lucas.
