Whispers in the Dark (KGI #4)(98)

Donovan hurried around to the work station where the computers were and began tapping furiously at the keys. Joe stalked around to the other side and cut the lines that fed from the electrodes to the machine monitoring her brain activity. Then he leaned over the enclosure, pressed his hands to the plastic and put his face over hers.

Shea, can you hear me. Talk to me, sweetheart. They can’t hurt you now.

She didn’t move. Didn’t acknowledge him in any way. He felt nothing through their pathway. Just silence and nothingness. Calm. Eerie calm.

“Goddamn it, hurry, Van! She’s not doing good. Not at all. We have to get her out of here.”

“I’m doing the best I can. I’m flying blind here. It’s a complicated system. I’ll get it. I’ll get it.”

Joe continued to stare down at Shea, his fingers splayed out, pressed to the cool surface. He only thanked God that it wasn’t Nathan who’d found her. He’d have gone ballistic and there would have been no controlling him.

Suddenly the top lifted and started to open toward him. He backed off and ran around to the other side. The locks around her neck, wrists and ankles popped open, but she didn’t react.

Gently, Joe reached in and lifted her from the enclosure. She was limp against him and her head lolled onto his shoulder. Shit, this was scaring him.

“We have Shea,” Donovan said tersely. “I repeat, we have Shea. Give us your status.”

“Go out the front,” Sam barked. “We’re engaged in heavy fire. Back is not secure. P.J. will be covering your exit. Take one of the SUVs and meet us at the rendezvous point. Once we’re clear, we’ll meet you as scheduled.”

It fried Joe’s ass to even think about leaving his brothers behind, but they couldn’t carry Shea into the line of fire. And he couldn’t send Donovan because he was Joe’s only cover, since Joe was carrying Shea out.

“You heard the man. Let’s go,” Donovan bit out.

AS Nathan listened to the exchange between Donovan and Sam, he nearly went to his knees in relief. They hadn’t said anything about Shea’s condition, but they had her and that was all that was important. She was safe. His brothers wouldn’t let any harm come to her.

“Throw a f**king grenade and let’s be done with this shit,” Garrett snarled from across the wide-open area that was at the heart of the facility. All hallways led from the huge epicenter, and it was at the center where the security forces for the lab had taken a stand.

What the f**k they had to fight for was beyond Nathan, but maybe they feared certain death if they simply surrendered. While Nathan would love to accommodate them, Resnick wanted to do it by the book. Maybe he was still angling to keep his job.

Steele and his team, along with Resnick, were closing the gap and they’d soon have the holdouts between them. Sam, Garrett, Nathan and Ethan had taken position while bullets zinged by them and kicked up plaster from the walls.

“I’m coming in behind you.”

Swanny’s voice came over the radio, and Sam frowned. “What the f**k are you doing out of position? You were supposed to be with Steele.”

“I got a little sidelined with an issue,” Swanny drawled. “It’s all better now.”

Nathan grinned.

“Fall back then,” Sam directed. “Rendezvous with Joe and Donovan. They’re going out the front with Shea. They’ll need cover. P.J. is manning the front. We have it here.”

“Roger that.” There was a long pause, and then Swanny said, “Don’t worry, Nate. I’ll take good care of your girl.”

“I know you will,” Nathan murmured.

“Coming your way, Sam,” Steele barked. “Waded through the riffraff. Phillips is rounding them up. Let’s finish this one and head to the house.”

“That gets a hooyah from me,” Ethan piped in.

“Hooyah, baby,” Cole echoed. “This is like ducks in a row at the fair. Too easy, drill sergeant. Too easy.”

“Move in,” Sam ordered.

Garrett lobbed a flash grenade and then they swarmed.

“Stay low! Stay low!” Sam yelled.

Some of the combatants had already given up and lay flat on the floor, hands over their heads. Others stumbled unsteadily and attempted to raise their guns to shoot.

Nathan dropped to one knee and laid down a round of fire, taking down two targets as they took aim at Garrett. He did a quick scan of the room as his brothers pushed through.

“Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” Sam ordered. “Targets are down. I repeat, targets are down.”

Nathan could see that Steele and his team had pushed through and now stood across the center of the complex. As he started to rise, pain seared through his side, knocking him sideways.

He stared down in disbelief to see that one of the fallen security forces had plunged a knife into his side. It was reflex to yank the knife back out. It hadn’t gone to the hilt.

He let out a guttural cry but threw aside the knife before leaping forward onto the man who’d downed him. He grasped the man’s head and wrenched sideways, until he heard the snap of the other man’s neck.

He threw the man down and then put his hand to his side, feeling sticky warmth spread over his palm.

Shit.

He glanced up in time to see his brothers rushing forward, uncharacteristic fear on their faces. He tried to push himself upward but started to tilt forward instead.