Rev It Up (Black Knights Inc. #3)(22)
“We were still jocked-up, loaded down with sixty pounds of gear from the mission we’d just come back from when the blast hit us,” he said, glancing over his shoulder to throw the mutilated beer label into the flames. It caught fire instantly and burned bright blue, casting strange, dancing shadows around the courtyard. The effect was particularly eerie given the atmosphere, and her breath hitched in her throat. “It sounded like the world was ending, and everyone on base, including us, immediately beat feet. But we weren’t running away. Hell no. We were all soldiers, so we started running toward the explosion and the fireball billowing into the sky.
“It looked like hell had burst through the Earth’s crust,” he recounted quietly as he settled back into the Adirondack chair, adjusting himself slightly to accommodate the gun in his waistband—oh yeah, she knew her brother had loaded him for bear even though he’d been trying to act all inconspicuous about it.
And great. Now she was chilled to the bone and sweating through her bra all at the same time. What in the world were you thinking coming here? Bringing Franklin? It’d been one thing to pal around with covert operatives and the danger that surrounded them when it was only her. It was another thing entirely to do so now, when she had a child to consider.
She should’ve never doubted her brother’s original decision to keep them far away from the BKI compound…
“I remember the heat,” he continued softly. “It was like nothing I’d ever felt, and it was the first thing to hit us as we rounded the corner and got our first glimpse of what was left of the barracks. That and the smell. The smell was indescribable, like death raised to the power of a thousand.”
Her nostrils flared in sympathy. Thankfully, the only scents captured by her quickly indrawn breath were that of smoking pine logs and warm boy.
“There was nothing but a crater where the barracks had been. A giant, burning, blackened hole that was at least fifteen feet deep. And all around us, we could see the remains of those two hundred hardcore Marines. There were arms and legs and torsos hanging in burning trees, combat boots and cammies blazing and smoking and raining down like ticker tape at a Macy’s Day Parade.”
He paused for a beat, raking in a slow, shaky breath, and she blinked back the tears she hadn’t realized were hovering behind her eyes. Just when she was about to throw caution to the wind and reach out to comfort him, a small sound, a tiny crackle of movement, like a footfall in a bed of dry leaves, sounded in that corner he’d been so concerned about.
She stared into it as Jake silently drew a huge, black pistol from the waistband of his jeans. His demeanor went from simply alert to that of a jungle cat ready to pounce, and her heart hammered in her throat until it was impossible to breathe. But no matter how hard she struggled to adjust her eyes to the stygian darkness, the only thing she could see was…
Nothing. Not one stinking thing. Just inky blackness. Just like he’d said…
She waited, afraid to blink, afraid to move, even though she unconsciously covered Franklin’s head with her hand. Straining her ears, she listened for a repeat of that tiny kernel of noise, that miniscule rustle of sound, but…
Silence.
Except for the chatter of the fire, except for the little snores emanating from between her son’s sweet lips, not a whisper broached the stillness of the courtyard and then…there it was again!
“Get behind me!” Jake hissed as he bolted from his chair, automatically placing himself between her and Franklin and the threat.
***
Shell, wonderful woman that she was, didn’t hesitate to scramble from her chair and grab the waistband at the back of his jeans with one hand while she held her still-sleeping son with the other.
“We’re going to back up, slowly, into that southeast corner,” he whispered from the side of his mouth, steadily aiming his Glock into the darkened northwest corner of the courtyard.
That damned nook was like a black hole, absorbing all light.
Of course, Jake didn’t need his eyes to tell him something was moving there. His ears caught it all. Each rustle sounded like soft-soled footsteps on hard, slate stones. His heart—usually so steady when coming face-to-face with armed militants or standing beneath a sky raining mortars—was threatening to beat right out of his chest. Because the thought of someone he couldn’t see aiming a gun at Shell’s head…dude, that scared the ever-lovin’ shit out of him.
Scared him like he hadn’t been scared in a long, long time…
And why did it have to be that particular spot?
Um, probably because whatever ass-hat was standing there, hidden in those deep shadows, had studied the layout of the place and knew about this one weakness.
At least that’s what he’d have done and, sonofabitch!, that thought certainly didn’t ease any of his tension.
“Come out,” he commanded in a clear, ringing tone as he continued to inch backward, herding Shell and Franklin toward the only place that offered the possibility of escape.
When no one emerged from the blackness, he added, “I’m gonna start filling that corner with hot lead in about half a second if you don’t show yourself!”
And just as his finger began to squeeze the trigger, just as his arm muscles tightened in readiness to both steady the weapon and absorb the kick, a form began to take shape at the exact spot where the north wall merged with factory building.