Cliff Ryder - The Finish Line

In that second, Anthony moved, vaulting over the railing and stepping over the woman, his pistol pointed at her head. For a second, his vision blurred, and her brown hair became blond, her features sharpened from round to more angular, with defined cheekbones. She looked very much like the woman who had gotten away from him.

Anthony blinked before he could squeeze the trigger, and suddenly his target was gone, and the wounded soldier — or whatever she was — was in front of him. He put a finger to his lips, stilling her to silence, then waved his pistol to make her raise her arms higher in the air.

"I'm going to lift you to your feet, and you won't try a thing, or I'll cripple you permanently. Nod if you understand."

She hesitated, then nodded, her eyes dark and venomous. Anthony didn't mind; he'd seen that look many times before. Keeping his pistol trained on her face, he grabbed her arm and hoisted her up, ignoring her grunt of pain as he did so.

"All right, we're heading out now, you leaning on me like so…"

The squeak of a boot sole on linoleum below caught his ear, and he turned enough to listen for more noise while still keeping an eye on her. He dragged her to the other side of the corridor, so he could watch the stairs to his left. "Do not move or make a sound," he whispered.

They stood there, face-to-face, with Anthony listening for the next noise from below. A soft tone in his earpiece signaled an incoming call, and he answered. "Go."

"I'm a floor below you, and thought I'd call ahead to avoid getting shot."

"Come on up — the party's about to begin." He took his gaze away from her for a split second, partly to confirm that it really was Liam down there, and partly to see if she would try anything. Her eyes narrowed, and he turned his hip just in time to block what would have been a vicious low punch to his testicles. She tried to follow up with a rake across his eyes, but he snapped his head forward, his forehead slamming into the bridge of her nose, the cartilage of her nose crunching under the blow. The back of her head bounced off the wall and she sagged limply, with only Anthony's arm holding her up. Moving his free hand to her mouth, he aimed at her right shoulder and squeezed the trigger, the 9 mm bullet burrowing through her flesh like a voracious, punishing insect. The shock brought her around again, and she screamed into his hand, just as Liam crept up the last flight of stairs.

"Found yourself a playmate, I see."

"You recognize her," Anthony said.

"Sure, she's one of them."

"Simple exchange, one bitch for another."

"I doubt they'll go for that."

Anthony shook his head. "Yeah, me, too. So we'll just have to kill them all instead. How're you fixed for ammo?"

"Got a full mag in, and a half on me. You?"

"Two full, one three-quarters up. I wanted to give Gregor more time to get into position, but we need to go now. Follow behind me and cover the right. I've got the left." He hoisted the semiconscious woman up like a rag doll, wrapping her left arm over his neck and hiding his pistol below her other arm. "Let's move."

The roar from the helicopter's blades made it difficult for David to hear anything. He stood in front of the open door of the chopper, his short hair ruffling in the powerful wind kicked up by the blades. When they had arrived, Cody had insisted on checking his injury, and slapped a pressure bandage on it, but David had insisted he was all right and could cover the rest of the team as they came up. They had placed the woman, still clutching her laptop case, in the far seat of the helicopter, and made sure she was belted in before taking their positions to cover the rest of the team. Cody stood a few feet off to David's right, covering the door, and David stood where he was to protect the helicopter and its cargo.

He had been half-right. The wound on the top of his left shoulder burned like a mother, making it nearly impossible to lift his arm for the time being. His HK pistol was in his right hand, but he couldn't pull off a Weaver's grip to save his or anyone else's life, so he'd have to shoot one-handed, which increased the chances of a bullet going astray…

Don't think about that right now — just concentrate on helping to get your team out of here alive, he told himself. David didn't dwell on what had happened to Robert — those were the hazards of the job. He just hoped that when it was his time, he went out like that — totally oblivious to it if at all possible.

The stairway door creaked open, and David's grip on his pistol tightened as two figures walked out, one supported by the other. David caught his breath as he recognized the one being helped along. Tara was a complete mess, her face, right shoulder and left arm all bloody, as if she had gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer.

The man helping her kept his head down, as if concentrating on his steps. David knew immediately it wasn't Kanelo. He brought his pistol up, aiming at the man, who suddenly stepped behind Tara and pointed a gun at her head. Another man popped out from behind him and aimed at Cody.

The brown-haired man had to bellow to be heard over the whirling main rotor. "All right! Everyone just relax, and nobody else will have to die today."

David took a step closer, his pistol aimed at the visible part of the man's face. "Drop your weapon right now and step away from her!"

"M-Two, hold your position!" Cody shouted, his own pistol aimed at the second man, who had him in a standoff, his gun aimed at David's leader.

"Simple exchange. You give me her…" the man nodded at the helicopter behind David "…and I give her back to you." He lifted Tara's head up so David could see her battered face, now crusted with drying blood, her eyes rolling back in her head.

"Not gonna happen! I said put your weapon down now!" David took another step forward, making the brown-haired man grab Tara by the hair and shove the silenced muzzle of his pistol under her chin.

"Don't — take — another — step!"

David kept his gun trained on the man's head, torn between taking the shot and concern that he might hit Tara. For a moment, no one moved, David swallowing his rage for the moment. Then he saw it.

Tara's eyes cleared, and she looked straight into his own.

Her left arm was free.

Her direct stare spoke volumes. Give me an opportunity — any opportunity.

David gave her the tiniest of nods.

Cody shouted back. "You know we can't do that!"

"You don't have a choice!" The brown-haired man turned to regard Cody for a moment, and Tara struck.

Her arm whipped up and levered the pistol away from her chin, catching the man by surprise, the gun firing as he reflexively squeezed the trigger. At the same time, she threw her head back, slamming her skull into her captor's cheek.

"Take them!" she screamed while trying to twist away, struggling to hold the pistol away from herself.

But while her attack had put the man off balance, he was still behind her, bringing the pistol back down toward her face. David tried to line up his shot, but they were both ducking and weaving so much he couldn't shoot without taking the chance of hitting Tara.

Even above the howl of the blade, David heard the loud crack of a rifle, and looked over to see Cody fall to his knees, pistol clattering to the rooftop as bright blood jetted from his neck, which looked oddly misshapen now, as if something had taken a big bite out of him. Clasping both hands to the wound did nothing to stop the spurting crimson, and before David could go to him, or even say anything, he fell face-first on the gravel, legs twitching as the arterial blood colored the gravel around him.

"David!"

He looked back to see Tara still struggling with the brown-haired man, who was slowly, inexorably bringing his pistol down to bear on her. Tara was giving it everything she had to keep the gun away, but her good arm and leg were both trembling, and the gun muzzle was getting closer and closer to her face.