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“Do you have eyes on Bashar yet?” Pharaoh asked.
Ryland followed Saint, pausing in the doorway. He’d taken down another tango, but it wasn’t Bashar.
“Negative.”
Together, they headed out and toward the back staircase, down to the next level.
Come out, come out wherever you are, you piece of shit.Ryland moved down the steps fast and smooth, back to the wall, pistol ready, Saint following. Until now, Ryland had tried to ignore the strange feeling in his gut when the mission parameters suddenly changed. But, dammit, that little niggling always seemed to know.
And now that small itch that something wasn’t right turned into a full-blown, massive blaze of epic proportions as Banshee’s voice crackled through their earpieces, “Fuck! Twenty more tangoes just popped up out of nowhere! You guys need to get the fuck out of—”
Silence.
Ryland abruptly stopped and exchanged a surprised look with Saint. He pressed his comms, “Banshee?”
No answer.
Pharaoh’s voice cut through. “Abort! Rip and Saint—abort!”
Chapter Five
“Fuck!” Ryland hissed.
“Lung cancer, huh?” Saint spun and they raced back up the stairs.
But slipping back out the way they came in suddenly wasn’t an option anymore. Five tangoes appeared on the staircase above them. Gunfire erupted and two bullets hit Ryland in the chest. The impact of the slugs knocked him backwards and his knees buckled.
Christ.The pain was like a lightning bolt to his sternum and he couldn’t catch a breath. Thank God the bullets only hit his tactical vest. But they still held a bitch of a punch.
Saint charged straight up the steps, shooting like a suicidal madman. Kneeling, Ryland lifted his Glock and fired on the tangoes.
“We’re coming up!” Pharaoh shouted in their comms.
“Hurry the fuck up!” Ryland yelled, grabbing the railing and pulling himself up. He raced after Saint, both of them continuing to fire their weapons, forcing the two remaining tangoes to flee for cover. But the moment they hit the next floor, a new swarm of guards appeared on the landing below.
Shit. Not good.
They were outnumbered and nearly surrounded. With no other choice, they kept running up and darted back into the music room. That’s when Ryland noticed the blood seeping through Saint’s sleeve.
“Get harnessed up. I’ll cover you,” Ryland said. Saint looked about to argue, but the blood gushing from his upper arm shut his mouth quick enough, and he did as Ryland said. Meanwhile, Ryland began firing into the hallway, trying to hold the inevitable assault off as long as possible, praying for their back-up to arrive but knowing it was beyond unlikely.
“I’m good!” Saint called. “C’mon!”
The tangoes continued their approach, being way too fucking bold, and Ryland knew he wouldn’t have enough time to get fully and securely harnessed before he had to jump out the window. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Saint now hanging outside, gun inside the window and ready to provide cover. God, he loved that moody, chain-smoking SOB. Running across the room, darting around the piano, Ryland yanked the harness off the floor and slipped out the window.
Saint started firing as Ryland jumped, holding onto the rope for dear life, and swinging out into thin air.Just don’t let me fall out.He came flying back and slammed into the wall with anoomph. Using the pulley system, grateful for his upper arm strength, he jerked at the rope, tugging his big body up fast.
“We’re pinned down,” Bruja hissed into the comms.
“Where are you?” Ryland asked, arms burning, almost to the rooftop. He glanced down to find Saint right behind him. Ryland fired off a couple of shots to cover him.
“In the freight elevator. They locked it down.”
“I’m going to see if I can unlock it,” Tanner said. “Heading to the main security office on the ground level.”
“Roger that, Mayhem. We’re stuck on the 60th floor. And Pharaoh is wounded.”
“How bad?” Ryland gritted out.
