Chapter Twenty
The hairs on Buck’s neck prickled, Tierney’s words still ringing in his head as she struck off, back rigid, following after Nick and Sloane as they wove through another maze of rusted machinery and rot, pausing at the last room. Nick grabbed two flash bangs off his vest, showed the countdown on one hand, then tossed them along the tiles.
The canisters clicked along the worn flooring, spinning to a halt on different sides of the room, a foreboding silence filling the space before they blew, erupting in a wash of blinding white light and ear-piercing wails as smoke filled the air. Men shouted from the shadows, errant suppressed gunfire spraying across the walls and ceiling a moment later.
Nick and Sloane slipped inside, laid down their own suppressed fire, keeping the rounds from getting too close. Just enough the men still functioning staggered behind better cover, giving Tierney and Buck the opening they needed.
Tier sprinted off, slaloming through the smoke and flames, dodging more brass before hitting that last corridor going full out. Buck stayed on her six, covering any possible shot from behind as they stopped just shy of the main room, smoke swirling in behind them, the echoed shrill from the grenade still ringing off the walls.
A metallic clank sounded behind them as Sloane closed the fire door, a few angry thuds impacting the opposite side. Acrid smoke and brine saturated the air, the bulk of the noise dampened by the thick metal.
Buck peered around the corner, ducking back when a round punched through the wall an inch from his head. He cursed, drew his knife, using the blade to survey the layout.
Massive vats and conveyor lines filled the room, a set of metal stairs leading up to the raised platform off to their right. Like on the video feed, Wade sat dead center, a huge brick of C4 strapped to his chest, the timer glowing red against the dark — eight minutes.
Grieves stood behind the railing, weapon trained on the hallway, a smug smile curving his lips. “Surely, you didn’t think you could just waltz right in. You’ll have to earn the right to fight me.”
Buck pressed his back into the wall. “I only see one access point to that platform, and we’re down to just over seven minutes.”
Tierney nodded, readying her Sig. “I’ll plant a couple rounds next to his feet, get him to flinch, while you hoof it to that first conveyor. You can cover me, and we’ll improvise from there.”
Buck eyed the distance. “That’s a fair amount of open space with Grieves in the elevated position. Don’t dawdle.”
He waited, sucking in a breath as she popped out, unloaded a few rounds into the metal framing beside Grieves’ boots before darting out, hauling ass toward the first conveyor. Grieves stepped back, shielding his face, granting Buck the few seconds he needed to slide along the algae-slick cement, slip in behind the conveyor’s frame before Grieves recovered, got off a few more shots.
Grieves laughed, the maniacal sound bouncing off the walls. “Looks like it’s just the three of us, but then, only one of you can save the Ranger. Guess that leaves you and me, luv. I’ll be waiting…”
Buck returned fire, burning through half his mag before Tierney slid in beside him, green muck staining her pants, grime and dried blood dotting her skin.
She motioned to the stairs. “Just get me as far as the stairs, I’ll take care of Grieves after that. Give you whatever time’s left to save Wade.”
“Tier.” He leaned in close. “Remember your promise. No sacrificing yourself.”
“Says the guy who’s got like five minutes to disarm a bomb.”
“Judging on all we’ve been through, the bomb’s the easy part. Grieves…”
“You just focus on not blowing yourself up, and I’ll handle Grieves.” She inched to the end of the conveyor, glanced back at him when he whistled.
He met her gaze. “I love you. Don’t fucking die on me.”
Her eyes widened before she smiled. “If I die, I can’t tell you I love you, too, so… Hold that thought.”
She took off, pushing hard as Buck covered her again, firing until he had to reload. He switched mags, checking the platform again, but Grieves had vanished, nothing but that timer glaring back at him, the faint clank of boots on metal farther off.
That had him moving, covering the last twenty feet before reaching Wade’s chair, dropping down at his buddy’s feet. Wade pulled against the restraints, one eye swollen shut, cuts and bruises already blooming on his skin.
He shook his head, split lip cracking open. “Damn it, Landry.” He spat out a mouthful of blood. “What the hell are you doing?”
“What does it look like? Saving your ass.” Buck removed his kit from his vest, laying it beside him as he noted the time — five minutes.
“Get O’Rourke and get the hell out before this thing blows.” Wade’s chest heaved beneath the vest. “There’s no time. Just… go.”
“Have some faith, brother.” Buck ripped into his kit, removed a couple tools. “Now, shut up, and let me work.”
He took a breath, then removed the casing from the C4 block, got a look inside.
Dead.
