“She’s in one of the railcars, surrounded by enough explosives to level this entire place to dust. And you’ve wasted precious time by not bringing the painting with you. You’ll never find her in the next ten minutes because I’m not letting you go until I have that painting in my hands.”
A train whistle blew in the distance, and the sound of gunshots echoed around them, Jack and Logan giving him the distraction he needed.
“Take your hand out of your pocket, Kimball. If you kill me, you’ll never get the painting.”
Kimball shrugged and did as he asked. “It doesn’t matter. My men are busy taking out your team, and you’ve only got eight minutes left to get me the painting and find your wife before she’s nothing more than dust. It’s over and you know it. There’s no way out of this.”
“You underestimate my team.”
The train grew closer, and Gabe shifted his body weight ever so slightly. “Here’s what we’re going to do, Kimball,” Gabe called out loud enough so he could be heard over the approaching train.
The wooden platform rumbled beneath his feet, and rocks bounced along the tracks. The train wasn’t moving fast, but it was moving fast enough.
“You and I are both going to walk away from here today with exactly what we want. There are other days for me to kill you. It’ll be the last reprieve you ever get from me.”
Kimball’s eyes widened in understanding as the train came by, and Gabe tossed the backpack he was carrying into an open railcar. Fury and panic raced across Kimball’s face as he began running so he could grab hold of the train before it left him.
“She’s dead, Brennan. This game is over,” Kimball yelled back as he disappeared down the tracks.
Gabe pulled his weapon from the small of his back and flipped on his com link as he began running.
“Where is she, Ethan?” Gabe yelled into the link. Long-forgotten prayers circled through his mind as he took out one of Kimball’s men with a single shot to the head. Ethan had seen her heat signature. She wasn’t dead yet. She couldn’t be.
“Veer right,” Ethan said. “You’ve got a man gaining behind you, and you’re about to intercept another coming around one of the railcars.”
Gabe slid feet first to his left and twisted so he had the man behind him in his sights. It only took one shot to bring him down. The man coming from around the corner had to spend precious seconds searching for him, even though he’d heard how close the shots had been fired. Gabe hit his target before the man could even glance down in his direction. He rolled from beneath the railcar and kept running.
“Shit,” Logan muttered. “I found the explosives.”
“Can you disarm?” Gabe asked.
There was a slight pause before Logan answered. “Maybe.”
Which meant no in Gabe’s estimation.
“It’s the next car on your left,” Ethan said. “Check in, Renegade. You’ve been awfully quiet.”
“I’m here,” Jack muttered. “Asshole wouldn’t die. I’m headed toward Grace.”
“You and Logan clear out now,” Gabe ordered. “I’ll get Grace and we’ll meet at the safe house. Is this the one, Ethan?”
The railroad car was burnt orange in color and rusted with age. Graffiti littered the sides in lime green and black, and the door was closed and bolted with a padlock.
“That’s the one,” Ethan assured him.
Gabe shot at the lock and tossed the remains to the ground. Jack skidded around the corner at that moment and helped him push back the heavy door.
“I ordered you to clear out,” Gabe told him.
“It looks like I didn’t listen.”
“Almost there,” Logan said under his breath. “This is a sophisticated bastard.”
Gabe vaulted into the railcar and almost didn’t see Grace huddled in the corner. Her clothes were in tatters, and blood and bruises covered her body. He held back the cold rage that wanted to take over—the urge to throw his head back and scream at whoever had let this happen to her—but instead he fell to his knees beside her.
He felt for the pulse in her throat, saying a prayer as it beat steadily under his fingers and thankful that she wasn’t conscious to feel the pain he was sure to inflict on her.
“Damn,” Logan said. “Less than two minutes on the timer. Get out of there.”
“Go, Jack. That’s an order,” he said before Jack could tell him no. “You too, Logan.”
Gabe didn’t know where to touch Grace. There didn’t seem to be a spot on her body that wasn’t damaged, but as gently as he could, he lifted her in his arms and hopped out of the railcar, trying not to jostle her too much. He growled as he saw Jack waiting for him with his weapon out, ready to guard his back as they made their way out of the station. He didn’t bother to yell at Jack for disobeying orders. There wasn’t time.
They ran through the maze of railcars and across the dilapidated platforms, the air completely still, as if it knew its very existence was in danger. They ran with a strength neither of them knew they possessed, and still it wouldn’t be enough.
“Logan, are you clear of the area? Report.”
There was silence on the other end until Ethan spoke up. “He turned off his com link a few seconds ago, but the satellite imaging shows he’s still with the bomb.”
They couldn’t have more than a few seconds left, and they still weren’t clear of the blast zone. Gabe tucked Grace closer to his body and headed toward the opposite side of the train tracks, his body drenched in sweat and fear.
He’d just placed Grace in a steep ditch and covered her with his body to protect her from debris when Logan came back on their com link.
“We’re clear,” Logan said, his breath a touch unsteady. “She’s neutralized.”
Gabe rolled to his back and looked up at the gray clouds that gathered in the sky, his breath heaving in and out of his chest. The sky around them gave a great whoosh, and it was if the air started breathing again. He’d never forget what the grass felt like beneath him or how eerie such complete silence was.
Gabe turned his head and saw Jack sitting next to him with his knees drawn up and his head down as if he were in prayer. Maybe he was.
“I swear to God, Jack, the next shit missions I’m sent are going to be assigned to you and Logan. When I give you an order, I expect you to fucking obey it.”
“I’ll gladly take whatever shit job you throw my way,” he said, nodding. “To tell you the truth, I could use a low-key babysitting job. Preferably by the beach somewhere.”
Gabe laughed before he could help it, the adrenaline in his body beginning to ebb. He’d be shaking like a woman if he didn’t laugh. Or crying. He looked at Grace and took her hand gently in his, but as quickly as he’d let his guard down, it was back in place in an instant. The sound of shoes scraping against gravel had his gun out and pointed across the tracks.
He lowered it as Logan walked toward them with a bag tossed over his shoulder—probably what was left of the bomb—his jeans torn and bloody at the knees and his gun held down at his side. Jesus, they’d cut it close. And they sure as hell wouldn’t be sitting there if Logan hadn’t just saved their asses.
The soft squeezing against his hand jerked his gaze down, and he saw a thin slit of green through Grace’s swollen eyes.
“Sorry.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, and he leaned down, his hand touching her brow in comfort. “It was my fault.”
“No, sweetheart,” he said. “It was mine. But I’ve got you now, Grace. And I promise I won’t let go. No matter what happens.”
Her grip grew surprisingly strong just as she said, “Please don’t make me go to a hospital.” Then her hand went slack in his, and she was out cold again.
He sighed and bent to pick her up again. It was a damned shame he was going to have to disappoint her so soon. She was going to be mad as hell when she woke and saw the hospital was exactly where he’d taken her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
