Page 60 of Raven's Hunt
Bad was an understatement.
Six heavily armed, tactically trained killers moving through the dark with orders to shoot on sight. And Buck’s team had to fight them with both hands tied behind their backs.
But nothing terrified him more than the radio silence buzzing in his ear.
Because Bodie, Dalton, and Nick didn’t know the rules had changed. And they were still hunting to kill.
Chapter Nineteen
Tierney stared at the red LED on the biometric transmitter, the steady glow sluicing ice through her veins. The overhead strobe cut off, plunging the room into utter darkness, just those two lights signaling their first failure.
She should have seen this coming. She knew Grieves wouldn’t fight fair. She just hadn’t imagined he’d go to these lengths.
Dread settled cold and unforgiving in her gut. If they didn’t save Wade, if she lost Buck…
She wouldn’t come back from that. He was more than just her anchor. He was her soul. The part of her she’d lost to that cell, to the river. Without him…
She’d be a hollow shell slowly sinking beneath the surface.
Buck squeezed her shoulder, eyes bright, not an ounce of doubt in the strong line of his jaw. “Breathe, sweetheart. We’ll still beat Grieves, and we’ll get Wade back. No other option.”
She nodded, snatched a collapsible baton off the guy she’d finished before swinging her rifle across her back, feeling the weight of it all the way to her bones. In a single move, Grieves had taken their best skills off the table — turned them into their biggest liabilities. And if they didn’t get the message to Dalton and Nick…
They were snipers by trade. No way they’d pass up an opportunity to drop a merc from a few hundred yards out.
She stood, the last echoes of the horn finally fading. “We need to get through to Dalton and Nick. If Dalton drops another merc…”
Wade would lose another chunk of time, and knowing Grieves, he’d set it up, so the bomb detonated even if a couple of his guys were still breathing.
Buck dumped the men in the vat—preventing any of their teammates from finding the bodies and alerting Grieves. Buck swung his carbine across his back, then grabbed a length of heavy chain off the cannery floor. He tugged on it, wrapping it around his hands before nodding. “We’ll find a way to get the message through. In the meantime, if we can’t shoot, we’ll brawl.”
She stopped for a moment to study him. Muscles flexing, gaze focused, he looked more than lethal. The kind of man who’d been to hell and beaten the devil.
Buck motioned to the hallway, and Tierney drew her Sig. As long as she avoided head shots, their armor should keep any torso hits from getting through. Just enough kinetic energy to knock them on their asses until she could get in close — incapacitate them.
Moisture beaded along the walls, thick shadows covering the floor as they moved along the corridor, taking the next right as it opened into a massive processing room. Four, huge concrete brine pools had been carved into the concrete floor, the slimy residual water smelling of salt and rot. More machinery littered the far side, the hulking corpses rising out of the shadows like giant monoliths.
Buck hugged the far wall, stopping when a flashlight beam swept across the other side, bouncing over the vats before edging toward them. They crouched behind a rusted compressor, the light skimming over the top before continuing on, tracing the perimeter.
Tierney pointed to a narrow walkway between the two vats, motioning for Buck to hang tight as she darted across the open space, slipping behind some kind of sorter just as the guy’s flashlight panned back her way, missing her boot by an inch.
She pressed her back into the side, tracked the line of his flashlight before popping up. “Hey.”
One round center mass got his attention — had him stumbling back, his focus shifting to her. He growled, raised his rifle just as Buck charged across the room, barreling into him like a linebacker. They crashed into the far wall, breaking apart long enough for Buck to wrap the chain around the guy’s chest — lock his arms at his waist.
The man pushed back, slamming Buck into the wall, loosening his grip enough for the merc to reach for his knife — get it halfway out of the sheath. Buck rallied, kicked off the wall, shuffled the chain a bit lower, just as Tierney closed the distance, knocked the guy out with the blunt end of her knife. His head snapped sideways, a muffled grunt rumbling free before his chin bobbed forward, his body going limp in Buck’s arms.
Buck caught the guy’s weight, dragging him out of sight. He zip-tied the bastard’s hands and legs together with his own straps, shoving the man’s bandana in his mouth before Buck snagged the guy’s earpiece and crushed it beneath his boot.
Tierney looked up at Buck, waiting for the damn strobe to light up, that horn to blast through the cannery, but the room stayed silent. Buck checked the transmitter, easing back against the wall at the sight of the pulsing green light.
He ran his fingers through his hair, head on a swivel. “One more down. That leaves five. And since that damn horn hasn’t gone off again, we can assume our teammates haven’t capped anyone else, yet.”
“But given the chance…”
Buck nodded, kicked the merc in the jaw when he looked as if he might rouse, then headed for the exit on the other side of the room. They moved past the vats and into another hallway, stopping at the far end.
Above them, the exterior catwalks showed through a series of broken windows, the rusted metal rails winding across the other building like a snake. Steel stairs joined the various levels, the old mesh twisted and bent.
