Sherrilyn Kenyon - Silent Truth

“Abbie, stop.”

“-untie my rope…”

“Don’t you fucking do that!” Hunter couldn’t live through this again. “Don’t… baby, please, oh, God, please trust me. I can get us both out of here.”

She was wheezing, close to hyperventilating. “How?”

“Just give me a minute. Don’t quit on me now.” His voice shook, the words coming out in a rough croak. Something sure and strong blazed in his mind. She needed to know why she could trust him. “I love you. I can’t lose you.”

But had the bastard jury-rigged the rope sling so that the loops around her waist would come loose? Hunter couldn’t think that way.

“Hunter-”

“Please… don’t leave me.”

“I don’t want to lose you either.”

He dropped his head against the rope, getting his breath back. “Then hold on. My team will get us out of here.”

Reaching around, he got his hands on the trailing rope and pulled with everything he had, lifting her slowly to him.

When she got closer, he called out in a voice thick with worry, “Give me your hand.”

He pulled up another foot of rope, and another.

Her fingertips touched his arm. He grabbed her arm, hauling her up to him with a burst of adrenaline. She was sobbing and terrified and alive.

He had her wrapped in his arms and wasn’t letting go.

Mako and the other two agents weren’t really his team, but Joe and Tee expected-no, demanded-all their agents to work as a unit of one in any situation. Hunter could now see how much space Joe and Retter had allowed him to prove he could be a team player for the past four years.

He’d failed miserably. And going rogue to find the killer had sealed his fate.

Joe wouldn’t suffer that with any agent.

Once Hunter got off this mountain, he’d find out the extent of his penalties and pay them without a word of complaint.

“It’s okay, baby. They’re coming,” Hunter assured her, even though Mako’s first duty was to secure the prisoner. Might be another half hour, but he’d talk her through this.

“Ready to come up, asshole?” someone shouted from the top. Lights appeared overhead and Mako peered down at him, his big grin in place. He had extra rope looped over his arm.

Being called asshole had never sounded so good.

But what about Todd and his family in Chicago?

Retter kept checking his watch, willing it to slow down and help Korbin, who had gained a slight edge from the learning curve after disarming the first bomb. He’d just called an all-clear on the third bomb in less than two minutes, but the first one had cost nine.

People had scattered faster than ants from a disturbed anthill from the Clark Street Bridge, but thousands were clogging downtown Chicago in a mad dash to exit. The roar of voices competed with sirens coming from all directions.

Korbin could do this. Had to come through.

When Joe had brought the cocky demolitions expert into BAD two years back, Retter withheld his opinion of the former stunt professional until he’d had a chance to observe Korbin in action during a mission in Chechnya.

Korbin ran so cool when he worked he could freeze lava.

Gotthard had joked that Korbin lived on a diet of ice water and available women.

One female might be too available. Retter hadn’t determined if Korbin and Rae had hooked up or not. Something he’d deal with later.

The ping of a bullet striking metal sounded clearly at the same time as Korbin’s yell. “Incoming fire.”

A second shot rang out.

“Shooter low on the north side,” Rae called, already racing along the parking area below the south side of the bridge. She wheeled and shot out lights along the bridge to give Korbin the cover of darkness first, then she took out the lights above her.

“Find him, Drake.” Retter issued the order, then ran down the drive from the bridge and joined Rae in the parking zone to better cover Korbin.

With so many civilians around, no agent could return fire unless he or she had a clear shot.

“I’m at number four,” Korbin said.

Retter used his thermal imaging scope to sweep over the north bank, looking for a heat signature from the next flash. He told Rae, “You keep watch for the flash; I’m going to take a look at Korbin’s position.”

“I’m on it.” She swept her rifle systematically across the opposite bank.

“Number four disarmed,” Korbin said a minute later, calm and controlled.

Retter watched Korbin’s heat signature swing toward the last bomb, his body fully exposed.

A shot pierced the night.

Rae called into the headset, “Second floor, two o’clock from the bridge.”

Korbin’s body jerked. He cursed. The bullet had hit him.

“How bad are you?” Retter called.

“I’ll make it,” Korbin ground out.

Rae held her weapon steady, watching.

The next shot hit a steel beam on the bridge, then she fired and cursed. “He moved. Drake, you got him?”

Shots echoed, striking metal… then no ping against metal.

Korbin cursed, livid. He’d been hit again, but there was nothing any of them could do except find the shooter.

A shot exploded from the other bank. “Got the fucker,” Drake called out. “Terminated.”

Korbin stopped moving forward on the bridge. He was at the last bomb. Retter checked his watch. Seventy seconds until 10:00 PM. If the bullet wounds hadn’t incapacitated Korbin, Retter estimated he could disarm the last bomb in sixty seconds, maybe less-

“Last one’s activating,” Korbin yelled. “Get away from the bridge.”

Rae swung around and ran toward the damn bridge.

Retter ran after her, yelling, “Rae!”

She looked back at Retter. The explosion threw her off her feet sideways.

Retter stumbled, watching in disbelief. The far end of the bridge shot up in the air, twisting, powerful steel sections wrenching and screeching. Windows of towering buildings on that side of the river blew into the offices. The smell of chemicals and sulfur stung the air. Concrete foundation buckled on the north side of the bridge.

The mangled half of the bridge that had lifted up hung suspended for an eerie second, then crashed downward, slamming the Chicago River.

Displaced water exploded upward, a violent wave busting over the bank.

Silence followed so suddenly it was jarring.

Rae jumped up from where she’d fallen, screaming, “Korbin!” She started running for the bridge. “Korbin!”

Retter dove and tackled her to the ground. “Stop, dammit.”

“What happened to Korbin?” She rolled over, fought him, beating his arms away, but Retter wouldn’t let go.

“We’ve got agents on the other side, Rae.”

She finally stopped fighting him. Her breaths came out ragged in the grip of agony, but she nodded. “Right. Call ‘em.”

Retter let her up and jumped to his feet. She’d lost her earpiece when she went down. He spoke into the mic and had to cup his ear to hear. “North bank report. Where are you?” He listened, then slowly turned to look across the river.

Rae stepped forward, eyes tracking toward the same spot as if she could will the answer she wanted.

Sunn flicked a light on and off to pinpoint his position on the north bank.

She grabbed Retter’s arm. “What about-”

“Where’s Korbin?” Retter listened. His mouth dried out. He pulled his hand down from his ear and looked at her. “Rae-”

She swung a look at him that started out hopeful, then reflected the horror he felt.

“He didn’t make it off the bridge,” Retter said, repeating what he’d been told. “Jeremy saw Korbin swinging up to the last bomb, then the shooter… we’ll get divers-”