J. Robb - Creation In Death

“Get us the hell out of here, Dallas.”

Eve moved to the door, yanked, shoved, pulled, kicked, rammed. Cursed. Turning again, she pulled the coat over Ariel’s face. “Just for a minute, in case the glass flies around.” And taking out her weapon again, she upped the stream and blasted at the door.

The glass held, but she saw it shake. She hit it again, aiming for the same spot, then a third time. On the forth, the glass erupted into a wild spiderweb of cracks.

“Nearly through, Ariel.” Eve holstered her weapon, picked up the stool and slammed it into the damaged door. She beat at it until the ground sparkled and the opening was clear.

After heaving the stool aside, Eve went back to uncover Ariel’s face. Paler now, Eve noted, shaking a little more. Had to get moving, had to get gone. “Found a way out. I’m going to cut these ropes now.”

“Try not to let the knife slip. I’m pretty tired of getting cut.”

Eve picked up one of Lowell’s tools, nudged the coat away from Ariel’s arm. It was patterned with cuts, punctures, burns. Eve set the blade on the rope, looked up into Ariel’s eyes. “He’s going to pay. He’s going to pay for every minute you spent in here. I swear it.”

She had to saw through the rope, leaving bracelets of it around Ariel’s abraded wrists. And she had to turn her mind, her rage away from the wounds she saw.

As she freed Ariel’s feet, she heard Lowell give a soft groan.

“He’s waking up, he’s waking up.” Voice pitched in panic and pain, Ariel struggled to sit. “He can’t get loose, can he?”

“No. He’s not getting up on his own. And look, if he tries, we have this.” Eve drew her weapon again.

“Why don’t you stun him again? While I watch.”

“Appreciate the sentiment, but I think it’s time to get you out of here. Here, let’s get this coat on you.” As Eve slid the sleeves on, Ariel hissed. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She kept her eyes trained on Lowell. “I’m okay. Can you help me down so I can kick him? In the face. That’s what I imagined doing. I want to kick him in the face.”

“Again, kudos on the sentiment. But here’s what we’re going to do. I want you to wrap your arms around my neck. Glass everywhere, and I don’t have a spare pair of shoes on me. I just need you to hold onto me, and I’m going to carry you out. You hold onto me, Ariel. I’ll get you out.”

“Like…Like piggyback,” Ariel managed between shaky breaths when Eve backed up to the table.

“Yeah, that’s the way. You get a little piggyback ride, and I’m hoping you don’t sample a lot of your products.”

Ariel managed a watery laugh, then collapsed against Eve’s neck and shoulders.

“Ready? Here we go.” With her own legs wobbly from the drugs, Eve bent to take the weight. She focused on the door. Five feet to get through, she calculated as she put one foot in front of the other. Another two, maybe three to get past the broken glass on the floor.

There was communication equipment out there, she reminded herself as sweat slid over her skin and Ariel bit back whimpers. She’d tag her backup, the MTs.

She heard something crash, then the rush of feet. And tightened her grip on the weapon in her hand. She let out the breath she was holding when she heard Roarke shout her name.

“Back here! Call the MTs! That’s the cavalry, Ariel.”

“No.” Ariel’s head slumped on Eve’s shoulder. “You are.”

Roarke flew through the maze of the basement toward the echo of Eve’s voice. The sound of it had stabbed through the music, blown through him like breath.

He saw her, pale, face gleaming with sweat, her weapon in her hand, and a quietly weeping woman on her back.

He lowered his own weapon, let the tremor in his belly come and go. “We’ve come to save you.”

She worked up a grin for him. “About damn time.”

He was to her in the single beat of a heart, and despite the flood of cops pouring down, gripped her exhausted face in his hands and kissed her.

“Here.” He shifted to lift Ariel from Eve’s back. “Let me help you.”

“Is he yours?” Ariel asked.

“Yeah. He’s mine.”

Ariel stared up into Roarke’s face. “Wow.” She let out a deep, deep breath, then just closed her eyes.

“MTs, now.” Eve bent, bracing her hands on her knees. “Peabody, you here?”

“Present and accounted for.”

“I want this place secured. I want a team of sweepers in here, going over every inch, documenting everything.”

“Dallas, you look a little green.”

“Tranq’d me. Fucker got by me for a half a second. Energy pills, tranqs, I’m a chemical stew.” She stayed as she was, snorting out a laugh. “Damn it. All electronics seized. Droid somewhere upstairs deactivated. And Jesus, somebody get that music off before my head explodes.”

She pushed herself up, swayed, and might have tumbled if Feeney hadn’t gripped her arm. “Head rush. I’m okay, just a little queasy. Lowell’s in there, secured. You need to haul his ass in. Your collar.”

“No, it’s not.” Feeney gave her arm a squeeze. “But I’ll haul his ass in for you. McNab, help the lieutenant upstairs, then get your butt back down here and start on the electronics.”

“I don’t need help,” Eve protested.

“You fall on your face,” Feeney murmured in her ear, “you’ll ruin your exit.”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“Just lean on me, Lieutenant.” McNab wrapped an arm around her waist.

“You try to cop a feel, I can still put you down.”

“Whatever your condition, Dallas, you still scare me.”

“Aw.” Touched, she slung an arm around his shoulders. “That’s so sweet.”

Taking her weight, he led her through the maze of rooms, up the stairs. “We couldn’t get in,” he told her. “We were maybe ten minutes behind you-traffic snarl-then we couldn’t get in the damn house. Your car wasn’t there, but we knew you’d gone in. I couldn’t get through the security. Roarke did. We had battering rams and laser torches coming, but he got through.”

“Nothing much keeps him out.”

“It took time, even for him. Place is like the frigging Pentagon or something. Then we had to get through the next level on the basement.”

“How long was I in there?”

“Twenty minutes, half an hour, maybe.”

“Not too bad.”

“I’ll take her from here,” Roarke said.

“Don’t-aw, no picking me up.” But she was already cradled in his arms.

“I have to, for a minute anyway.” He simply buried his face against the side of her neck as cops and techs swarmed by. “I couldn’t get to you.”

“Yeah, you did. Besides, I told you I could handle myself.”

“So you did, so you always do. Are you hurt?”

“No. Feel like I guzzled a bottle of wine, and not the good stuff. But it’s passing some. Gee, your hair smells good.” She sniffed at it, caught herself, and winced. “Damn tranqs. You gotta put me down. This is undermining my rep and authority.”

He eased her onto her feet, but kept his arm around her waist for support. “You need to lie down.”

“Really don’t. You lie down and everything starts spinning around. Just need to walk it off.”

“Lieutenant?” Newkirk walked up with her coat. “Ms. Greenfeld asked that this get back to you.”

“Thanks. Where is she?”

“MTs are working on her, in the hall-the foyer, I guess it is.”

“All right. Officer Newkirk? You did good work.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Right now it feels like good work.”

“I want to take a look at her before they transport her,” Eve said to Roarke, and let him help her to the foyer.

Ariel was on a stretcher, covered with a blanket, a pair of MTs preparing to roll her out.