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“I apologize,” she said stiffly. “You didn’t follow SOP. You should have left me.”
He didn’t bother to argue with her. Instead, he grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the darkened hut. “We need to get to the Jeep and get back across the border. Tussad was obviously expecting us. I don’t want to wait around for an ambush.”
They sprinted back to Kareem’s, not taking as much time for cover, and when they finally reached the big white house, they approached cautiously. Every light was on, and the front door was left wide open.
“Looks like business was harder on Kareem than he let on. Tussad must have lined his pockets well.”
“What do you want to do?” Grace had pulled herself together with remarkable, and worrying, speed. She was cold to the touch, and her pale face showed no signs of anything other than rigid determination.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Gabe let go of her hand and checked out the perimeter of the house before going through the front door and checking out the interior. He slipped back out and headed toward the Jeep. He put it in neutral and pushed it to the back of the house, out of the direct sight of anyone coming down the street. He ran back around to the opposite side and found Grace exactly where he’d left her.
“It’s deserted. Kareem and his family are gone.”
“If this was even his house to begin with,” Grace said.
“Let’s get locked and loaded inside. I have a feeling we’re going to need all of our resources. If Kareem has already reported back to Tussad, then we probably only have a few minutes to get a head start.”
Gabe went to the Jeep and took the big tarp off the back end while Grace kept watch. He hefted the large black trunk, and Grace followed him inside. She bolted the front door behind them while he went to secure the back of the house.
“Grace, look at me.” She glanced up and her green eyes were defiant and angry. “Don’t lie to me. I need to know if you can hang. I’ll think of another way out if you don’t think you can.”
Grace didn’t immediately tell him she was okay as he thought she would. She was starting to scare the hell out of him, and he knew better than anyone that the middle of a mission was the last place for emotions. She visibly gathered her resolve and didn’t break eye contact. Her strength was something he’d always admired most about her.
“I can hang,” she said. “You won’t need to carry me out of here.”
She popped the latches on the trunk and opened the lid. The M40A5 lay in pieces and was separated by different compartments. It was well polished and oiled. She put it together quickly, her hands intimately knowledgeable as they caressed each part.
Gabe reached inside the bottom of the case for the small cylinders Logan had made for him. He placed them carefully in his bag, and Grace was just closing the trunk lid when the slam of car doors sounded from outside.
“Down, down!” Gabe yelled, pulling Grace with him to the ground and rolling with her across the floor as the windows seemed to implode around them all at once. Shards of glass rained down on them, and the staccato burst of machine-gun fire deafened his ears. Dust and debris floated heavy in the air, and sight was almost impossible.
“We’ve got to get upstairs.” He rolled them both in that direction until he hit the base of the stairs with his back. “You go first. Stay low.”
She scuttled up the steps, and Gabe followed just behind her, hovering over her back with his body. He turned back in time to see a canister thrown through the window and burst into flames. Another came through a side window, and the fire breathed life into the arid room with a whoosh.
“Go! Faster!”
They ran into the room they’d been assigned earlier, and Gabe closed the door behind them. He tore down the curtains and pushed up the window, so only the iron bars kept them from freedom. They were attached to the stone with rusted screws.
Grace was already stripping the beds while he dug through his bag until he found a small screwdriver. He heard the sink running, and Grace came back into the room with a soaking-wet comforter that she shoved in the crack of the bedroom door.
Gabe jiggled the bars and then started the laborious task of detaching them from the rock. The screws had been in place a long time and didn’t want to budge, and he had to use all his strength to force them to move. Sweat poured from his temples, and he looked at the door, gauging how much time they had. Smoke was already seeping past the wet bedspread and creeping into the room.
Grace had ripped the white bedsheets into thirds and held them in her teeth as she braided them together tightly. The smoke thickened and made it almost impossible to see.
“Got it,” Gabe said, and immediately went into a coughing fit. Even with the screws out, the bars didn’t let go of the wall. He pushed them with his feet until they released and crashed to the ground. Grace tossed the braided sheets over the windowsill and anchored them around the heavy bedpost.
“Will it hold us?” Gabe asked.
“Long enough. You go first. I’ll fire cover shots.”
Gabe propelled himself over the ledge and scaled down the wall while Grace shot rounds from her SIG into the smoke-filled night. The only good thing about the smoke was that it was just as hard for the enemy to see as it was for them.
He moved quickly and ignored the chinks of plaster that exploded close enough to his face to slash at his cheeks. He dropped to the ground and laid down a quickpop, pop, popof fire so Grace could climb down after him.
The smoke covered them as they piled into the Jeep and hunkered down low in the seats while Gabe started the engine. He floored the gas pedal and they jerked forward, gravel and sand spitting under the tires.
