Page 41 of Raven's Hunt
“I know. You hate it. But you also know it’s the only plan that might end with us all still breathing.” She readied herself, paused to plant a hard, quick kiss on his mouth. “Don’t cut the wrong wire.”
“Don’t get shot.”
She sucked in a breath, then popped out, firing a line across their suspected nests, then sprinted across the yard, kicking a rusty bucket in case they somehow missed her.
A rifle cracked from the top of the crane, the bullet sparking off a steel beam several inches behind her. She dodged left, dove when the hairs on the back of her neck prickled, avoiding the second shot that echoed across the yard, the bullet exploding in a puddle an inch from her boot.
She rolled to her feet, zigzagging the last several meters before diving into the gutted shell of an old logging truck cab, glass raining down on her, the report shaking paint and dust down from the rusted roof.
She ducked beneath the chipped dash, catching a glimpse of Buck hauling ass across the yard through the holes in the door, slipping behind the excavator, more brass popping next to him. She fired off more cover rounds, lowering into the footwell when the asshole on top of the bunkhouse walked his shots across the quarter panel, then along the hood, punching more holes through the crumbling chassis.
The impacts had the metal singing, the entire truck rocking in the mud, her chance at keeping Buck safe going up in a cloud of rusted dust. She grabbed one of the flash bangs, waiting until the guy paused to reload before levering up — tossing the canister across the yard.
The grenade bounced twice, spinning on top of a shallow puddle before exploding in a wash of white light. The ear-piercing shrill stabbed pain through her skull, but she fought through the numbing effects — steadied her hand enough to get off a couple shots toward the asshole’s nest.
She missed wide, her report still blending with the flash bang when a hushed thut sounded from the same direction. The guy cried out, tumbling off the roof a second later, his rifle clattering to the ground a good twenty feet in front. An extra mag dropped next to it, kicking up mud as a shadowed figure appeared amidst the smoke, saluting once before vanishing into the fog.
Dalton.
No question.
The massive form, the hint of blond hair in the fading light. He’d given her a lifeline without blowing his cover.
She crawled across the bench seat, kicked the other door open, then slipped out, moving to the truck’s bumper. The guy in the crane focused on Buck, clicking rounds off the bucket as he worked on the collars, completely defenseless. She gauged the distance, then darted out, emptying her Sig as she hoofed it across the open stretch of mud and gravel, sliding in beside the dead guy a few seconds later.
A round split the air, the shot clipping her vest, punching out the air in her lungs. She hit the ground, scrambled for the carbine, the gunman already panning back to Buck, planting him in his crosshairs as he switched positions, both hands working on the collar.
Tierney rolled onto her ass, rifle snugged in her shoulder, her scope centered on the cage. She let the sounds settle, sighting the guy through the rain, exhaling a second later as she fired three, disciplined shots through the mesh. The guy jerked, his last shot going wide, sparking off the bucket before he toppled forward, slumping over the controls.
Pain pulsed through her chest, but the vest held, another slug mushroomed on the side. She checked the time…
Four minutes.
Tierney pushed to her feet, scoping the yard, aware there were still at least two more players on the board — the ones they hadn’t capped at the bridge — as she tripped her way over to Buck. He had the wires exposed on both collars, multiple panels removed from the unit.
He glanced over at her, frowning at the slug embedded in her vest. “Pretty sure I told you not to get shot.”
“Vest held. You okay?”
He clenched his jaw, mumbling under his breath. “He linked the two relays together. I have to snip the timer wires at the same time or…”
The woman whimpered, jiggling against her restraints.
Buck squeezed her shoulder. “Just breathe. And watch Tierney. I’ll take care of the wires.”
The woman locked her gaze on Tierney’s as she shuffled over, watching the tree line, searching any shadowed recess large enough to hide a man. The rain picked up, a bit of the fog lifting as thunder rumbled overhead, a flash of lightning cracking the air.
Sixty seconds.
Buck yanked more wires, finally isolating two before grabbing another pair of snips. He slid them under the wires, taking a deep breath before cutting the lines, freezing as the timers flashed a few times, the numbers turning green before stopping, two seconds showing on the face.
Buck dropped the tools into his pouch, removing a lock pick set. He worked on the chains, finally hauling both hostages to their feet.
Tierney rounded the excavator, yanked on the door, urging them both up. “Stay down until we’re sure it’s clear.”
The couple scrambled into the cab, closing the door behind them as Buck shouldered up to her. He held out the phone, waiting for the inevitable ring, but it just sat there, rain ticking off the case, eerily silent.
Tierney shook her head. “I don’t like this. He should have called by now. Something’s off.”
