Ruthless Game (GhostWalkers, #9)(92)

“I’ve got you, Rose,” he reassured her. She seemed drugged, unable to fight her way out of the drug’s hold on her.

He leaned over her to try to make eye contact, and a bullet coming from an unknown direction hit him hard, high up along his shoulder. At first he didn’t feel anything but the sharp sting, and then a burning numbness spread through his arm and chest until he could barely breathe, as if ice encased his upper body, freezing it.

Coming at you. On your right.

Mack and Marc had rigged a pulley and harness on the pier. They tossed the rope as close to him as they could. Brian fought the strength of the crashing waves as the power of the ocean tried to tear Rose from his arms. His boots were weighing him down, adding to the difficulty. In the cold water his body began shivering, a bad sign, but worse if it stopped. He couldn’t afford to go numb, not before he got her out of the water. He tried not to think about Kane or Jacob and how long they’d been in the water. He couldn’t figure out why his left arm refused to obey his commands.

The harness was just feet from him, but seemed a mile. He timed the next wave, kicked strongly, and managed to snag it with his fingertips, draw it to him, and secure it around Rose. Twice water washed over both of them, and he came up choking and coughing. His lungs felt ice-cold, and his movements were slowing. He had no idea of time passing or how long he’d been in the water with the powerful waves battering him.

Rose looked almost blue, but she was breathing, although her heart felt slow to him. Maybe it was just his own heart slowing down. The water was pounding both of them, and it was impossible to see in the fog. The gray vapor wrapped around them, enfolding them in wet mist.

Brian! Stay with Rose, Mack commanded. She is your responsibility, and you cannot fail in your mission. Hold on to that rope and keep her face out of the water.

Brian shook his head to clear the cobwebs from his brain. He couldn’t quite remember how to hold on to the rope. His fingers weren’t cooperating with his brain.

Jaimie, Mack knew his wife was tuned to the telepathic path used for missions. She would be anxious for any news. Tell Eric to set up for surgery. He’ll need to be ready fast. Have Javier bring up a vehicle now.

Roger that. Her voice shook, but she didn’t break protocol.

Brian! Mack put every ounce of command a master gunnery sergeant possessed after years of leading an elite unit of soldiers. Fucking hold on to that rope, soldier.

Brian’s mind felt sluggish. He heard Mack’s command, and he always obeyed Mack out in the field, especially when Mack swore, which was on very rare occasions. Top meant business, and there was no disregarding an order, no matter how difficult. He took hold of the rope, steadying Rose as the next wave took them under. He felt the tug on his arms as Mack and Marc began to pull them steadily through the water toward the pier.

His left arm flopped into the water. He tightened his fingers on the rope, unable to do more than keep Rose’s head from going under, but he didn’t let go, refused, even though he barely knew what was going on, to let Top down. She moved now, obviously semiconscious, knowing something was terribly wrong but unable to focus.

Don’t fight, Brian soothed. Mack’s got us. He’ll get us out of this. Just relax and let him pull us up.

There was a feeble, weak stirring. Kane?

Kane heard Rose’s voice. She sounded weak and very vulnerable. Most of all, she sounded far away, as if she was calling to him from a great distance.

We’ve got her, Kane. Mack’s voice was as steady as ever. He would never lie—Rose had to be all right.

Kane waited until the boat slipped into place at the north end of the pier, just feet away from where the divers had emerged, before surfacing. He realized that the enemy had prepared at least three different exits. Whitney wanted Sebastian and Rose and had gone to great lengths to acquire them.

He emerged beside the boat in complete silence. The engine idled while they waited, peering through the fog to try to find their divers and Rose. The dense fog was perfect for hiding them from the shooters on the roof but made it nearly impossible for them to see what was happening in the water.

Kane could hear two men whispering, the words somewhat muffled by the sound of the water beating against the pillars.

“Do you see anything, Randy?”

Kane listened carefully, mapping the exact location of the speaker in the boat. He adjusted his own position so that he was lined up with the man.

“They were just here,” Randy responded, almost hissing.

From his voice, Kane knew Randy was toward the back of the boat and in a sitting position. He took a breath and went into motion, catching the side of the boat with both hands and powering his body into a back somersault, knees to chest until he cleared the side of the boat. As the enemy stood and staggered toward him, Kane exploded his legs straight out, catching his opponent in his gut. Kane was a big man, very muscular, and his strength was enormous. Adrenaline running added to the impact. His enemy went tumbling over the side of the boat, falling backward into the water.

Kane landed hard and rolled toward Randy. The boat rocked crazily, tilting sharply, throwing Randy off balance as he fired his automatic, drilling holes in the side of the boat. Kane hit him hard under the chin as he drove upward, putting his considerable weight behind the blow, and then spinning around to deliver an elbow to the jaw. Randy clung grimly to the weapon, his finger glued to the trigger.

The sound of the gun spitting bullets was deafening inside the blanket of fog. Kane trapped Randy’s wrist, stepping in close to keep the man from turning the weapon toward him. He slammed the wrist back over Randy’s shoulder, forcing his body backward and his feet out from under him. Randy went down, and as he did, Kane ripped the gun from him, turning the weapon back toward his enemy. The bullets created a bloodred zipper up the man’s chest and into his throat.