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“Ghost,” Logan muttered. “I found the explosives.”
“Can you disarm?” Gabe asked.
There was a slight pause before Logan answered. “Maybe.”
Which meant no in Gabe’s estimation.
“It’s the next car on your left,” Ethan said. “Check in, Renegade. You’ve been awfully quiet.”
“I’m here,” Jack muttered. “Guy wouldn’t die. I’m headed toward Grace.”
“You and Logan clear out now,” Gabe ordered. “I’ll get Grace and we’ll meet at the safe house. Is this the one, Ethan?”
The railroad car was burnt orange in color and rusted with age. Graffiti littered the sides in lime green and black, and the door was closed and bolted with a padlock.
“That’s the one,” Ethan assured him.
Gabe shot at the lock and tossed the remains to the ground. Jack skidded around the corner at that moment and helped him push back the heavy door.
“I ordered you to clear out,” Gabe told him.
“It looks like I didn’t listen.”
“Almost there,” Logan said under his breath. “This is a sophisticated beauty.”
Gabe vaulted into the railcar and almost didn’t see Grace huddled in the corner. Her clothes were in tatters, and blood and bruises covered her body. He held back the cold rage that wanted to take over—the urge to throw his head back and scream at whoever had let this happen to her—but instead he fell to his knees beside her.
He felt for the pulse in her throat, saying a prayer as it beat steadily under his fingers and thankful that she wasn’t conscious to feel the pain he was sure to inflict on her.
“Damn,” Logan said. “Less than two minutes on the timer. Get out of there.”
“Go, Jack. That’s an order,” he said before Jack could tell him no. “You too, Logan.”
Gabe didn’t know where to touch Grace. There didn’t seem to be a spot on her body that wasn’t damaged, but as gently as he could, he lifted her in his arms and hopped out of the railcar, trying not to jostle her too much. He growled as he saw Jack waiting for him with his weapon out, ready to guard his back as they made their way out of the station. He didn’t bother to yell at Jack for disobeying orders. There wasn’t time.
They ran through the maze of railcars and across the dilapidated platforms, the air completely still, as if it knew its very existence was in danger. They ran with a strength neither of them knew they possessed, and still it wouldn’t be enough.
“Logan, are you clear of the area? Report.”
There was silence on the other end until Ethan spoke up. “He turned off his com link a few seconds ago, but the satellite imaging shows he’s still with the bomb.”
They couldn’t have more than a few seconds left, and they still weren’t clear of the blast zone. Gabe tucked Grace closer to his body and headed toward the opposite side of the train tracks, his body drenched in sweat and fear.
He’d just placed Grace in a steep ditch and covered her with his body to protect her from debris when Logan came back on their com link.
“We’re clear,” Logan said, his breath a touch unsteady. “She’s neutralized.”
Gabe rolled to his back and looked up at the gray clouds that gathered in the sky, his breath heaving in and out of his chest. The sky around them gave a great whoosh, and it was if the air started breathing again. He’d never forget what the grass felt like beneath him or how eerie such complete silence was.
Gabe turned his head and saw Jack sitting next to him with his knees drawn up and his head down as if he were in prayer. Maybe he was.
“I swear to God, Jack, the next miserable missions I’m sent are going to be assigned to you and Logan. When I give you an order, I expect you to obey it.”
“I’ll gladly take whatever miserable job you throw my way,” he said, nodding. “To tell you the truth, I could use a low-key babysitting job. Preferably by the beach somewhere.”
Gabe laughed before he could help it, the adrenaline in his body beginning to ebb. He’d be shaking like a woman if he didn’t laugh. Or crying. He looked at Grace and took her hand gently in his, but as quickly as he’d let his guard down, it was back in place in an instant. The sound of shoes scraping against gravel had his gun out and pointed across the tracks.
He lowered it as Logan walked toward them with a bag tossed over his shoulder—probably what was left of the bomb—his jeans torn and bloody at the knees and his gun held down at his side. They’d cut it close. And they sure as hell wouldn’t be sitting there if Logan hadn’t just saved them.
