0692672400 (S) (29 page)

“Who’s the civilian?” Lara asked.

“George,” Terry said. “He’s our doctor. Or, well, the closest thing we have to one out here. He’s actually a veterinarian.”

Hart walked over to them. He looked in shock, and she swore he had aged five extra years since she last saw him. “You okay?” he asked her.

She nodded. “What about Riley?”

“George will do the best he can.”

“I have a doctor—a real
doctor—on the
Trident.
”

“Can you bring him over?”

“Her. And yes. Until then, what happens now?”

“What do you mean?” Terry asked.

“I mean,” Lara said, “Mercer’s people will be showing up anytime now. Are they going to ask where Riley is if he’s not here to meet them?”

Hart and Terry exchanged a look.

“Well?” Lara said. “Are they?”

“Maybe,” Hart said.

Lara was annoyed by their uncertainty but managed to temper it down—at least, some of it. “Did the others meet with Riley when they came through here?”

“Yes,” Terry said. “I mean, they didn’t ask or demand it or anything, but he was always there when they showed up. You know, as the CO.”

“What about you?” Lara asked Hart. “Can you take his place?”

Hart was still trying to wipe the blood off his hands when he looked up at her. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“You’re going to have to do better than that.”

He didn’t answer her.

“Hart,” she pressed.

“Yeah,” he said. “I can do it.”

She wasn’t sure if Hart actually believed his own words, but it wasn’t like she had any other, better choices at the moment. It was either Hart or…who else was there? Terry? The thirty-something woman who was shaking next to her?

“You’re staying, right?” Terry asked her.

The idea that she would leave now—run away, essentially—had never occurred to her until Terry brought it up. She could hear the fear in the older woman’s voice, and it bugged her that people who should be telling
her
what to do were always deferring to her instead. There was something very wrong with that.

How did you handle it, Will?

God, I never knew how hard you had to work all the time to keep us alive.

“No,” Lara said. “We’re not going anywhere. I promised Riley I’d take you and the others away from here, and I’m not going to break my word.”

She saw the instant relief on Terry’s face, and even Hart seemed to stand just a little straighter.

Lara focused on Hart. “What’s your plan?”

He shook his head without even thinking about it. “I don’t have one.”

“None?”

“Riley was the brains of this operation. What about you?”

“Me?”

“I saw you back there on the yacht. Next to Riley, you probably have the most leadership experience. Which, yeah, is sad considering I can probably pass for your dad. But I’m not ashamed to admit it. I’m in over my head here, Lara. I could really use your help.”

She took a moment to wipe her hands, still covered in Riley’s blood, on her pant legs.

Then: “We’re going to proceed like everything’s normal. They’re going to show up on schedule and we’re going to resupply them, then watch them leave. If something happens that prevents that, then we’re going to kill them.” She stared at Hart when she added, “You okay with that?”

“Yeah,” Hart said.

“You might know some of them. Riley said he knew the ones that were on the way here now.”

“I do, too, but that won’t keep me from doing what I have to do.”

“Good.”

“What about me?” Terry asked.

“I need you to get people out here and clean up the blood and”—she looked back at Andy’s corpse, left where he had fallen—“the rest of this mess.” She glanced up at the crane and shielded her eyes against the sun. “Is he up there? Peters?”

“Only Peters could have made that shot,” Hart said.

“Tell him to come down,” Lara said. “I want to talk to him before Mercer’s men show up…”

17

GABY

D
ESPITE THE SUNLIGHT
filtering into the lobby through the hole in the wall, she could feel the cold seeping through her jacket and the thermal layers underneath. The weight of the ammo around her waist and Benford’s M4 with the now-useless M203 grenade launcher helped to (mostly) keep her mind off what was coming very, very soon.

Tap-tap.

The sounds came from behind her, but she didn’t react with alarm. There was only one other person moving around in the bank lobby, and that was Danny, who appeared in the corner of her peripheral vision and settled into a crouch on the other side of the hole in the wall.

“How goes it?” he asked.

“Same-o, same-o.”

“That bad, huh?”

She smiled. “How’d it go with you?”

Danny had spent the last ten or so minutes in the back, using Benford’s military ham radio to contact the
Trident
and letting their friends know that they were still alive but weren’t going to make it for their pickup today. With her attention focused almost entirely on the city outside the bank, she hadn’t been able to hear as much of the conversation as she would have liked.

“As good as can be expected,” Danny said.

“That bad, huh?”

“And a bag of chips.” Danny leaned his carbine on the floor and made sure his jacket’s zipper was all the way up to his neck. “The big news of the day is that they ran across some of Benford’s friends out there in the Gulf and were pulled temporarily off course.”

“Everyone okay?”

“Lara seems to have it all under control. They finally got refueled and could have come and gotten us if we were somewhere gottenable.”

Danny opened a bottle of water that he had scavenged from Benford’s pack while looking for the radio and took a drink. When he was done, he tossed it across the opening to her. She caught it and took a few sips as he talked.

“But none of what’s happening out there’s gonna do us any good in here. Probably a given they have the back alley manned and the whole street locked down. Snipers on the rooftops would also be my guess.” He leaned out slightly and peered up at the rooftop ledge of Gallant’s Best across the street from them. “That’s a pretty big clothing store for such a small town. What do you think they sell in there? Cowboy boots? Belt buckles the size of my head?”

“Why, you looking for a belt buckle the size of your head?”

“Hey, accessories make the man. Besides, it’s not the taste in fashion that matters; it’s how big it is. Or so I’ve been told.”

She finished and tossed the bottle, with still half left, back to him.

“Too bad we couldn’t find the key to that Jeep,” Danny said, eyeing the parked vehicle on the sidewalk outside.

“Maybe it’s in the glove compartment.”

“Don’t you think ol’ Benford would’ve checked?”

“Possibly.”

“Well, finding out for sure would take anywhere from five to ten seconds. Maybe less if I really haul ass and don’t do something stupid like slip when I cross the sidewalk. Alas, that’s more than enough time even for these wannabe soldier boys to take their sweet time shooting me in the ass.”

“They don’t want to kill us, remember?”

“Even if they only tried to wound us, all it’d take is one shitty shot and I’m rolling around on the street, clutching my ass.”

“What’s the preoccupation with getting shot in the ass?”

“It hurts, kid. It really hurts.”

“Are we talking from experience?”

He snorted. “Maybe.” Then, still looking out at the Jeep, “Look at it.”

“What?”

“The Jeep.”

“What about it?”

“It’s just sitting there, mocking me.”

She smiled. “It’s an inanimate object, Danny. It’s not mocking you.”

“It’s definitely mocking me.”

“You’re just imagining things.”

“Hunh.” Then, looking across at her, “We all clear on the backup plan?”

She nodded. “Retreat into the manager’s office with Nate. Seal the door.”

“Nothing quite like a last stand in a podunk town.”

“I could think of better things to do with my time.”

“Well, sure, if you wanna be a Negative Nancy about it.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re forgiven.”

He went suddenly very quiet, his eyes never leaving the streets outside.

“What it is?” she asked.

“When I was hanging up, I told Carly that I loved her, and she cried.”

“She misses you.”

“I mean, yes, she misses me. Who wouldn’t? What I meant was, I think she knew the truth even though I tried to bullshit my way through it. That redhead knows me too well. When I said ‘I love you,’ she started crying and didn’t stop before I signed off.”

“I’m sorry, Danny.”

“Yeah, me too, kid.” He glanced back at the offices. “I think it’s time to try on some new clothes.”

She nodded, picked up the two collaborator uniforms waiting in a small pile next to her, and jogged across the lobby and into the back hallway. The clothes she was carrying were the least bloody ones she could find among the dead; even so, her stomach churned at the thought of having to wear them. But it had to be done. Even if it didn’t work
(It
has
to work)
, they had to try, because what the hell else were they going to do? The only other option was to give up, and there wasn’t a single quitter among them.

Nate was sitting at the back of the office when she entered, a large pile of rifle magazines and bullets scattered between his legs. An M4 leaned against the wall next to him and he was wearing one of the collaborator’s gun belts.

He looked up when she stepped inside. “Everything okay?”

She nodded. “Time to get dressed.”

He looked at the bundle in her hands and sighed. “You know, you used to have much better taste in clothes.”

“I don’t like it any more than you do.”

He caught one of the uniforms she tossed over and grimaced at the sudden movement
(Shit, I forgot; sorry, Nate)
, then wrinkled his nose at the stench of blood clinging to the fabric.

“Try not to think too much about it,” she said.

Nate stuck his finger through one of the bullet holes and wiggled it around. “Look at what I can do, Ma.”

She rolled her eyes. “Put it on.” Then, “You need help?”

“Nah, I mastered changing clothes when I was ten.”

“Ten?”

“I was a late bloomer,” Nate said, struggling to stand up.

She wanted desperately to reach over and help him but managed to restrain herself. Nate needed to do it himself; even more importantly, he needed to know that he could. Finally, he was able to stand up on both feet—they were a bit unsteady at first, but that went away after a few seconds—and began undressing.

She gave him as much privacy as possible—which wasn’t much since they were in the same room together—while changing into her own pair of blood-stained shirt and slacks.

When he was done, Nate sat gingerly back down and pinched his nose. “Ugh. I thought it’d be easier the second time, but not so much.”

He was referring to Starch, when they had used a similar tactic to survive the night. The fact that it had worked then was the only thing giving her any hope at the moment.

If it worked once, it should work again, right?

While working on the buttons of her shirt, she sneaked a quick glance across the room at Nate. He looked so much better since a night ago, and all the rest he’d gotten had definitely helped. He was still shaky on his feet and it would take a while before he was even close to being 100% again, but she felt a lot better knowing that he had survived the worst of his wound.

Now all we have to do is survive everything else they’re going to throw at us tonight.

She finished with her shirt by pushing the hem into the waistband. It was a little loose everywhere, but it was the best fit she could find.

“Bandages still okay?” she asked him.

He nodded. “You said Danny stitched me?”

“Uh huh.”

“He did a pretty good job. It totally doesn’t feel like my guts are about to burst out whatsoever.”

“Not funny.”

“Too soon?”

“Way too soon,” she smiled.

“True, though,” he said, picking up a magazine from the floor and thumbing rounds into it.

“How’s the inventory look?”

“We have eleven magazines for the rifles and thirteen for the handguns. I separated them by caliber,” he added, indicating the smaller individualized sections.

“Nicely done.”

“Hey, you give me a job, I’m gonna do it gangbusters or not bother at all.”

“I never had any doubt.”

She walked over and sat down next to him, placing her rifle on the floor within easy reach.

Nate leaned over and sniffed her. “You stink worse than me.”

“I’m pretty sure we stink about the same amount.”

“Definitely not.”

“Whatever.”

He pinched his nose again and said, his voice slightly distorted, “I heard Danny on the radio earlier. How’s the
Trident?
”

“Better than us right now.” She sensed him watching her intensely and turned to meet his gaze. “What?”

“You’re so beautiful.”

“My nose hasn’t healed right…”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“The scars on my cheeks…”

“I don’t care about scars.”

“I’m wearing a dead man’s clothes…”

“So am I.”

“…and covered in his blood…”

“Ditto.”

“I haven’t showered in days…”

“You smell wonderful.”

She gave him a wry smile. “You’re too easily pleased.”

“Only when it comes to you,” he smiled back.

She leaned over and kissed him. His fingers slipped into her hair, and he tugged her closer. She tried to pull away, not wanting to aggravate his wound, but his mouth was so insistent that she gave up and just enjoyed it because, she told herself, this could very well be the last time they had the chance.

“
T
ICK TOCK
. Tick tock, goes the clock.”

The sun wasn’t completely gone, but it had dipped below the rooftop of Gallant’s Best, so she couldn’t see it anymore. The street outside the bank had darkened enough that she couldn’t tell if the Jeep was brand new or scarred by the same explosion that had taken out a large chunk of the wall.