Radclyffe - Code of Honor

The woman laughed. “If you’re after one, you’re after both. And when the first shot is fired, they’ll both be dead.”

Loren tamped down her rage. She was so close, but this icy soldier was right. Once all hell broke loose, she’d have a minute, tops, to figure out where Sky and Roberts were being held. As soon as the bullets started flying and blood started flowing, there was no telling who might panic and shoot them or who might give the order to eliminate witnesses. If she was right there and still couldn’t save Sky, she wasn’t sure she wanted to walk away.

*

The red phone on Lucinda’s desk rang and she picked it up before the first ring had died away. “Yes?”

“We have targets in sight. Recommend we eliminate the weapons arsenal first.”

“Are you able to locate the hostages?”

“Tentatively. The computers are working on imaging now.” A brief interval of static muffled his words, and then he said clearly, “Two vehicles approaching the compound transporting armed forces, twenty-eight in all.”

The bikers Loren had spoken of. Fighting was going to break out any moment. Cam and Dunbar would need all the diversion they could create if they were to escape. “Proceed with attack plan alpha.”

“Roger that. Weapons arsenal and unmanned targets priority one.”

“Thank you. I’ll expect an update shortly.”

“Roger and out.”

She gently set the phone back in the cradle, musing with half a mind as to who had decided red was the appropriate color for a device used to order the destruction of life, while she debated calling Andrew. Decided his guilt and helplessness were a burden he didn’t need. She felt no guilt, only anger she couldn’t do more.

*

An explosion rocked the building, and Cam jerked upright on the bed.

“What’s that?” Dunbar asked, her voice surprisingly strong. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and gripped the mattress on either side as if trying to steady herself. “Damn. Dizzy.”

“That’s incoming artillery,” Cam said. A second later, another closer explosion set off a series of earth-shaking tremors that rattled the doors and windows. A long cascade of secondary explosions boomed like cannon fire. Cam jumped up. “That was a weapons depot. We need to be ready to move. The camp is under assault.”

Dunbar stood, took a step, and swayed unsteadily. Cam put an arm around her, pulled her over to the door, and stationed her with her back against the wall. “They’ll be coming for us in a second. Let me handle it.”

The door slammed open and a man in camo rushed in, sweeping his rifle in the direction of the beds as if expecting to see the two of them armed and taking aim at him. Cam hooked her arm around his neck, jerked him back against her chest, and twisted. He slumped, a deadweight in her arms, and she lowered him to the floor. Crouching, she yanked his rifle free and cradled it in one hand while reaching for his sidearm. A scuffle and a muffled grunt behind her got her attention, and she spun upright. Dunbar grappled with another soldier, both hands wrapped around the soldier’s gun hand. The automatic was buried somewhere between them. Cam rammed the butt of the confiscated rifle into the back of the soldier’s head, and he fell next to the first one on the floor. Dunbar sagged against the wall, panting hard.

“You okay?” Cam asked.

“Yeah,” Dunbar gasped. “Who is it, do you think?”

“Hopefully the good guys. Either way, it’s the best chance we’ll have. You ready?”

“Hell, yes.”

“Here.” Cam passed her the rifle, grabbed the rifle from the second soldier, and shoved both handguns into the waistband of her trousers. “Can you handle the rifle?”

“In my sleep.”

“Then let’s get out of here. Stay low and close to me. We’ll try working our way around the building and into the woods.”

They made it as far as the porch before small-arms fire burst out across the compound. Wood fragments showered from the railing in front of them and peppered the air behind them. Cam grabbed Dunbar and dragged her onto the floor, covering as much of Dunbar’s body as she could. Bullets pinged off the metal roof and ripped splinters a foot long from the building, hurling the spears of wood like deadly javelins. Something tore through Cam’s calf and she grunted in surprise.

“You hit?” Dunbar asked, her face muffled against Cam’s chest.

“No. You?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Can you crawl?”

“Point me.”

“Straight ahead and over the side of the porch. We have to get away from the building before it gets hit with something bigger than bullets.”

*

The gunfire started before the trucks had even stopped. The windshield shattered, showering the men in the front seat and Loren and her prisoner with shards of glass. The side of her face stung, and blood ran down her neck. The men in the front shouted in pain, and the truck veered wildly, finally caroming into something, probably the side of a building. The impact knocked Loren to the floor. She held on to her weapon, but her prisoner launched herself out the back. By the time Loren got to her feet and jumped down to the ground, the camp was consumed by gunfire. People ran everywhere, shouting and shooting. Several buildings were ablaze.

Disoriented, uncertain of where to go, Loren advanced cautiously, keeping to the shelter of the trucks while trying to assess where the captives might be held. A whining sound she recognized split the air above her, and she threw herself to the ground. A missile hit a nearby truck, and it exploded in a fireball. The stench of burning rubber and diesel fuel coated her throat and stung her eyes. Rubbing tears from her face, blinking into the red-orange light cast by the soaring flames, she made out a figure running toward a low, narrow building across the compound. Loren lurched to her feet and raced after her.

Chapter Thirty-nine

Cam rolled off the far end of the porch and into foot-high brush. Dunbar landed beside her a few seconds later. Brambles and broken branches grabbed at her exposed skin. Rounds continued to dig up the twenty-five yards of open ground that stretched between the building and the surrounding forest, showering them with grit and debris. The fires blazing throughout the compound lit up the expanse as bright as day, the night sky blood red. Militia poured out of the few remaining buildings still standing, firing at anyone not in camo. From what she could make out, the ones firing back were civilians—men in hooded sweatshirts under denim vests and leather jackets. Whoever they were, they hadn’t come to rescue her and Dunbar, but they were providing a welcome diversion. The Hellfires methodically targeting the buildings had to have come from Lucinda. Only Lucinda could have pulled those strings, with a little well-placed assistance.

The two dead guards she’d left inside would be missed, even in this chaos. Someone else would be coming for them soon. They had to go now.

“We’ll have to run for it,” Cam said. “You go first. I’ll cover you.”

“I’ll be too slow.” Dunbar gasped. “I’ll draw them right to you.”

“I’ll worry about that.” Cam gripped her shoulder. “Keep your head down and don’t stop—now go!”

Dunbar rose, clutching her injured arm close to her body, and scrambled for the woods in a low crouch. Cam hugged the side of the building, scanning the ring of blackness beyond the crimson shadows, waiting to follow until Dunbar had reached cover in the trees. Dunbar was nearly there when the silhouette of a large man carrying an assault rifle seemed to step out of the flickering curtain of flames. He was bareheaded, with no body armor, just camo fatigues. Almost casually, he sighted his weapon on Dunbar. Cam stepped into the light and shouted, “Federal agent! Drop your weapon. Drop it now!”