bikers. The thought gave Madison a chill. It was starting to feel like the whole world was chasing her, that she’d never be safe. She was beginning to believe they’d be running forever.
“You okay, honey?” her mother asked with concern, running a hand across Madison ’s cheek. Her teeth chattered through the words. She and Bree both looked frozen now that they’d stopped moving. Madison was the only one who hadn’t had to wade through the fast-moving river. She wondered what time it was, her stomach was rumbling. She wished she’d eaten more at breakfast.
“I’m fine, Mom.” She huddled closer, and her mother drew her in with one arm.
Maltz approached. “They’re still on us,” he said, voice grim. “A few have dropped away, but Fribush saw the rest about a mile back. Looks like they know these hills, and they have some tracking experience. So we better get moving.”
“I’m so tired,” her mother said in a thin voice. She didn’t look well, eyes hollowed out, skin waxy. She probably hadn’t slept much since Madison had been taken, and now she was being subjected to this.
“We’re hoping it’s not much farther, ma’am,” Maltz said. “I’m trying to raise Syd Clement on the radio. She and Riley are meeting up with us.”
“Then what?” Madison asked. “There are only two of them. How will that make a difference?”
Maltz crouched beside her. “Ready to go?”
Madison sighed, but let herself be hauled back up. Her mother and sister struggled to their feet, clearly bone- tired. They set off again, unconsciously falling into the same pattern: a commando in the lead, followed by her sister and mother, then Maltz and her. Jagerson brought up the rear.
They’d gone a few hundred feet when Madison heard a shout. She raised her head off Maltz’s back and saw a glimmer in the trees where they’d just been resting. Another yell, then a shot was fired. Without any warning she was dropped to the ground.
“Looks like we’re going to have to make a stand,” Maltz said.
Twenty-Five
Randall watched, completely disheartened, as they loaded the last barrel onto a truck. It had been encased in a large wooden crate, identical to dozens of others still waiting to be loaded. A forklift maneuvered it into position, then slid it all the way to the back.
“Where does it go now?” he asked.
“Does it matter?” Dante was monitoring the packing, making sure the crate containing the barrel was completely buried behind the others. The other two trucks were already waiting by the door.
Randall rubbed his arm. He’d stripped off the PPE suit, acknowledging the inevitable. A long red burn had appeared, though whether it was an actual rash or due to his constant scratching was debatable. “You’re going to kill me anyway,” Randall said with detachment. “No reason not to tell me.”
“No reason to tell you, either.”
“I’m guessing you’ll kill my family, too,” Randall said.
Dante shrugged, his face unreadable. “We’re not animals.”
At this, Randall barked a laugh. Dante turned and scowled at him. “Killing Americans isn’t what we’re about, Grant. The ones who died gave their lives for the greater good.”
“The greater good? Do you even know what that means?” Randall shook his head. “You’re spouting someone else’s rhetoric.”
Dante’s brow darkened. “It’s not rhetoric.”
“Says the moron who probably couldn’t use the word in a sentence,” Randall scoffed. “Fine, don’t tell me. Your bomb will never work, anyway.”
“What?”
“It won’t work.” Randall shook his head. “Did you honestly think I’d help you, knowing you’d kill my family regardless?”
“What did you do?” Dante’s eyes narrowed.
“Go to hell,” Randall spat.
Without replying Dante whipped out a gun, took a step forward, and fired twice. With an expression of surprise on his face, Randall crumpled to the ground.
Dante watched blood pool around the ruins of Grant’s head. A rumbling, and the first truck rolled down the ramp and out of the warehouse. His gut told him that Grant had been lying. He was too scared to fuck with them, knowing what they were capable of. He was just trying to make them think the plan wouldn’t work. But still…if it failed, Jackson would have his head on a platter.
Dante caught up with the last truck as it was about to exit the building, swinging himself into the cab. He eyed the reflection of Grant’s lifeless form in the side mirror. He had to admit, for a pinhead the guy had some balls. The question was, how far had he been willing to go?
“Syd?” Jake checked her pulse. There was a thin trickle of blood by her temple. He probed it-shallow, probably just a scrape from hitting the ground. She was still breathing, he could see the steady rise and fall of her chest. He lifted her shoulder carefully, turning her on her side. If she’d taken a bullet, it would have been in the back. They were both wearing vests, so unless it was armor-piercing it shouldn’t have penetrated. No sign of blood on her shirt. He felt along her back, the contours of the vest hard against his hand.
She shifted suddenly.
“You okay?” Jake began lowering her down, but she batted his hand away.
Syd’s voice was strained as she said, “That was, hands down, the worst extraction ever.” She sat up stiffly.
Jake could have cried from relief. “Christ, you scared me.”
“Thank God for Kevlar.” She rapped her vest, wincing slightly. “Still feels like I got shot in the back, though. No blood?”
“Nope. If you want to strip down, I can double-check.”
“Sounds like some good kinky fun. But we’ll have to save that for later.” Syd rolled her head from one shoulder to the other. “Our friend still around?”
As if in response, wood spit off the tree they were hiding behind. “We’re pinned down,” Jake confirmed.
“Fantastic. Any word from the others?”
Jake had completely forgotten about the radio. He glanced around but didn’t see it. “I think it dropped when you got hit.”
She gave him a hard look. “And you didn’t retrieve it?”
“I decided to grab you instead,” Jake retorted, a flush rising in his cheeks. “But the radio would probably be more grateful.”
“More useful, anyway.” Syd pulled herself up until she was leaning back against the tree. “Has he moved?”
“Not yet, as far as I can tell.”
“Well, he’ll be coming in soon, he knows he’s got us. He’ll look for a better angle on this side of the tree. We need to keep moving, distract him.”
“I think he’s got a laser sight. His aim was too good,” Jake said.
“How many rounds do you have left?”
Jake checked. “Plenty, as long as we aren’t here for a few days.”
“All right.” Syd checked her own weapon, moving awkwardly. “We should move.”
Jake eyed her with concern. “You sure you can manage it?”
“Please. I once made it five miles with a bullet in my side. I can handle it.” She shifted to a crouch, gun ready. “Let’s head toward the river, we can split up there and trap him between us.”
“That brings us farther from the car.”
“We take care of him, then go back for the radio and call Maltz from the car.” Sensing his skepticism, she laid a hand on his arm and said, “Trust me, Jake. I’ve been through worse.”
