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“You were aiming for his dick, weren’t you?” Joshua insinuated.
“Hell no,” Cole spat, breaking down his gun.
“Yes you were. You little dick-hunter, you—”
“I shot his knee clean off,” Cole barked. “Now we can go down and interrogate him. Finally get some intel.”
“Interrogate him?” laughed Joshua. “That poor asshole’s going to be screaming for the next five or six hours. Then he’s going to pass out from exhaustion, and wake up screaming some more.”
Cole shrugged. “So we’ll shoot him full of morphine. If we do it just right, he’ll tell us anything we want to—”
He stopped speaking as Joshua suddenly raised his hand. He was staring through the viewfinder again. His expression was grim.
“Shit.”
Cole’s process of stripping down the gun stopped immediately. He looked up.
“What is it?”
“I’ve got at least three more incoming. Or four, rather, according to the thermal.”
Up until now I’d been totally ignored, almost like I wasn’t in the room. But now Cole swung his gaze my way.
“Evan’s down in the truck,” he told me. “Go. Now.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” Joshua called back without looking. “Quinn, Cole and I know what we’re doing. Find Evan. Get safe. It’s the best way you can help us right now.”
I was confused, nervous, even frightened. And there were a hundred questions I needed answers to.
But I knew enough not to ask them now.
“Okay.”
I moved toward the door. Before I got there, Cole scooped me commandingly into one big arm.
“I missed you,” he said, and planted a kiss on my forehead.
His impossibly blue eyes found mine, if just for a second. But in that second, our hearts spoke volumes.
“I missed you too.”
He smiled and jerked his head toward the hallway. I fled swiftly, away from the horrific screaming outside. Past the strange flashing lights that illuminated the hallway, and down the staircase to where more lights awaited. The whole thing should’ve been terrifyingly surreal. Instead I felt totally calm, my mind somehow rationalizing everything as perfectly normal.
You’re one of us.
I found Evan in the garage, the truck already running. He half-grabbed, half-ushered me inside before belting my seatbelt and closing the door.
“Hold tight.”
With the screech of tires and a spray of gravel, we found the main road. The gates were already open. We blew through them at eighty miles an hour, still picking up speed as we plunged off into the night.
Thirty-Eight
QUINN
We drove north for hours, the truck’s headlights piercing the mid-summer fog as it devoured the road. I had no clue where we were going. I didn’t much care. The only thing that mattered was the phone call that eventually came through, indicating that the others were safe, and they’d be joining us soon.
