The window shattered as a round burst through. The girls shrieked in terror as Grady dove into them, driving them to the ground. “Sorry,” he grunted as he lifted himself off their petite frames.
“What’s happening?” Mandy asked, nearly in a panic.
“My friends are coming to get me,” he replied with a shit-eating grin. He’d figured he was on his own, but it looked like Lieutenant Murphy had grown a pair.
“Your friends almost shot you,” Mandy pointed out.
“Yeah, well, they aren’t the brightest bunch,” he answered. “Did you see if there was anybody else downstairs when they brought you here?”
“No idea.”
The gunfire outside was sporadic and it sounded as if the men were focused more on maneuvering than shooting. Given the lack of guns that the gang seemed to have, that was probably a smart thing to do. Why waste ammo with suppressive fire if you didn’t need to?
“Grady!” the familiar voice of the LT called from outside. “Grady Harper. We’re coming for you!”
“Come on, girls. Let’s go get ourselves rescued, huh?”
He stood and pulled Carla to her feet. Then he heard several quick suppressed gunshots coming from nearby. They were outbound rounds. A pit opened in Grady’s stomach as he remembered Scorpion telling him that he had his weapon. It sounded like the man was putting it to use now.
A massive volley erupted from the soldiers in response, sending Grady to the floor once more. “Where… What house is Scorpion in?” he demanded.
“Next door,” Mandy said. “The white two story.”
“Okay. You girls stay low. I’m gonna go put an end to this shit.” Carla grabbed his wrist, her big doe eyes imploring him to stay. “You’ll be safe, just stay low. I’ll be back for you. I promise.”
“You better come back for us, Grady,” Mandy said. “We’re trusting you to be a good man. Please don’t leave us to die here.”
He nodded curtly. “I won’t. I’ll get you out of here after I stop Scorpion.”
Grady tugged his arm gently from Carla’s grasp and high-crawled toward the doorway. He had to stop Scorpion before he killed somebody in the platoon.
26
MANHATTAN, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK
MARCH 7TH
“Grady! Grady Harper. We’re coming for you!” Jake yelled around the side of a car that he was using for cover.
“You need to get your ass down, LT,” Sergeant Gallegos cautioned him just as several bullets burrowed into the concrete near Jake’s feet. He dove to the ground behind the car.
“I thought Phil said they didn’t have any guns,” Jake grunted, exhaling forcefully. The men of Staff Sergeant Gallegos’ squad began firing toward a white two-story house. Jake hadn’t seen where the shots came from, but given the soldiers’ response, it must have been that one.
“That’s a suppressed rifle being fired at us,” Gallegos replied when the firing subsided. “Sounds like Harper’s weapon.”
Jake eyed the man thoughtfully. “You think he’s dead?”
“I don’t see any way that he lost his weapon without being dead, sir.”
Jake frowned. “Alright. If he’s dead, then we can’t kill them all. We need to find out what they did with the body so we can go get it. If they’re all dead, we can’t get that information.”
The sergeant nodded. “Okay, sir. What do you want us to do?”
Jake shrugged. “For right now, we press on. We gotta get over there and take out whoever is shooting at us.”
“Got it.” Gallegos looked over to his Alpha Team leader, who was crouched beside the oversized tire of an old Jeep Wrangler. “Bound up, Specialist. We need to clear that house.”
The team leader gave him a quick thumb’s up and turned away to direct his men. Bravo Team began firing in the direction of the house while Alpha sprinted across the road to the line of cars on that side of the street. Then they began to suppress the building once they were set.
“You ready, sir?”
“Yeah,” the lieutenant grunted as he pushed himself to his feet. “Let’s do this.”
He and Sergeant Gallegos ran side-by-side toward the cars while the remainder of Alpha team moved up as well. Jake’s foot caught on something and he stumbled, falling forward. He threw his hands out to stop himself and twisted his wrist as he rolled on his side. His helmet thudded loudly into the pavement and his rifle skidded away for several feet, disappearing underneath a car.
“You alright, sir?”
Jake groaned loudly. The fall had hurt like hell. He lay there on his back near the middle of the street for a moment looking up at the sky. Then, the sounds of suppressed gunfire from the north reminded him that he needed to get to cover. He tried to roll over, but his damn body didn’t want to listen.
“I—” Jake didn’t know what to say. He wanted to move, but he really couldn’t. “I can’t move my legs,” he called out.
“Fuck,” Gallegos hissed.
Soon, Jake felt himself being pulled along the roadway by the handle on the back of his vest. He came to rest under the cool shadow of a vehicle. “What’s happening?” he asked, suddenly colder than he’d been a few minutes ago.
“Goddamn it. Medic!” Gallegos called out. “Medic!”
“He’s back with the reserve,” Jake replied stoically. “Did I break my back in that fall or something?” He felt himself jerked awkwardly as hands opened his vest. The Velcro fasteners sounded impossibly loud to his ears.
“You were hit, sir. Looks like it came in just below your vest. Stomach.”
He winced in pain as pressure was put
