Firethorn (Discarded Heroes) (13 page)

The thought held Griffin on the landing. Just past her, he spotted a steel door. What was beyond it?

More voices.

Griffin glanced back to the top of the stairs. Definitely coming that way.

“Psst!”

He darted a look to Kacie.

She slid across the landing and flattened herself against the wall, bobbing her head toward the door next to her.

Both doors? People coming through both doors? His heart rapid-fired. They were as good as dead!

Only as he leapt toward her, caught her hand, and whipped her around, did it register with Kazi that men were coming from both doors. Riddell spun her around and tucked her into the dank corner beneath the upper stairwell. Pressed into the darkness, his bulk shielding her, she closed her eyes.

This was too familiar. Too…

No, don’t think about it. It’s a job. You’re in control.

She clenched her fingers at her side, mentally pushing herself away from his large frame. Focused on listening to the two men who’d just stepped into the fire well. A stream of Arabic flowed through the space, echoing. Leader informed Minion they were on schedule. That nothing unusual had come up. But Minion informed him the sentries hadn’t reported in for their last patrol.

“I’ll check on them.” Team Leader spun and stormed up the steps.

Griffin lunged and reached through the stairs. He caught the man’s ankles and yanked hard.

Realizing Griffin’s intention, she launched at Minion. Leapt into the air and slammed her feet into his chest. Even as she did, she heard the loud
thwack
of Leader’s head hitting the steel-grate steps.

Minion flopped back like a rag doll, no doubt wondering if he’d ever breathe again. His head snapped back—right into the stair support.
Crack!
He dropped hard.

Within seconds, she and Griffin were in the bowels of the facility.

Again, he caught her hand and tugged her toward the open door. “Let’s move. Check over there, and I’ll cover this. Find him and rendezvous back here.”

Kazi jerked free. Took a step back.

Legend stopped and looked at her, confusion rippling through his brow.

He couldn’t seize control. “This is my mission. We do this on my terms.”

His jaw went slack. “You
got
to be kidding me.”

She hardened her expression and stood firm.

He raised his hands. “Fine. Aw’ight.” He motioned toward the door. “Can we go save my man now…Majesty?”

Anger tightened her chest.

“What?” Legend covered his mouth, gaped, then placed it over his chest. “Did I forget to bow? My bad. Here…” With a grand, sweeping motion, he bowed. Craning his neck at her, he cocked his head.
“Now
can we go?”

Heat poured into Kazi’s face and neck. Two-handed, she shoved him. “This a game to you, Legend? Or did you get that name by being a legendary pain in the—“

“My man.” He pointed to the door, nostrils flaring. “Now.”

“You’re going to get us killed.” She rushed past him into the long, narrow corridor. The holding area should be straight ahead, well guarded.

But it wasn’t.

She slowed, reaching for the handgun holstered at her thigh.

Legend frowned, signaled for her to ease back away from the door. He retrieved a canister, pulled a ring, then nodded at her.

Silently, she indicated with her fingers, Three…two…now!

She jerked open the door.

Legend tossed the flash-bang.

Tink-tink-tink.

Shouts erupted.

Boom!

Shielded from the concussion, she and Legend waited a two-count.

The door flung open.

Griffin kicked it back, ramming the steel into the man’s face. The guy wobbled, then slumped to the ground. Griffin grabbed the door and yanked it open. Kazi rushed into the room.

Plumes of green smoke rose like a poisonous vapor reaching toward the low-slung ceiling. A light popped. Glass rained down.

Thwat! Thwat!

Knowing Griffin went left, she aimed right—

A dark form rose out of the green smoke.

She went for her weapon.

Thwat! Thwat!

The form seemed to be sucked back into the vapor. Only as he vanished did it register that someone had shot the person. She glanced back and spotted Legend, who turned and engaged with another guard. Had he shot the guy?

“Find him,” Legend shouted.

Right. Kazi pivoted and scanned the long, rectangular room. Pipes snaked across the ceiling, intersecting and bypassing pendant lights—which were out, thanks to her contact who’d cut the power. As she held the weapon up, staring down the sights, she moved through the smoke. She stepped over a body, then skirted a table bolted into the ground. The floor dipped down, which told her most likely a drainage area—waterboarding?

Okay, so where was the objective?

She licked her lips and scissor-stepped, her senses pinging. As the haze cleared, she turned a slow circle, probing every dark crevice and object. To her right, she heard Legend’s boots squeak as he approached.

Her gaze struck his.

M4 at the ready, he scoped the area. The right side of his lip was fat and bloodied, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. His focus was singular. He wanted his guy back. “Where is he?”

Kazi took one more look around the room. “He’s not here.” The confession felt as if she’d sprung a leak in a tanker, her hopes sinking.

Like a storm moving in off the coast, his expression went from terse to hurricane-strength fury. “What do you mean? You said—“

She stomped to the far end then back to the middle. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“You’re right it doesn’t. I trusted you—“

Clang. Clang.

“Why did I ever think—?”

“Shut up.”

Clang.

Acholi, Uganda

 

T
he shout felt like a sucker punch to the chest. Scott grabbed Ojore’s shirt and propelled him back the way they’d come, away from the suit chasing them. Bake to safety. Back to where Scott had some semblance of control and wasn’t facing yellowcake contamination. Sprinting through the tunnels, he listened to the chaos erupting behind them. Ojore stumbled, but Scott caught his shirt again, hauling him upright.

Something spiraled past his head.

Sparks flew off the rock edifice. Scott blinked at the machete that had narrowly missed his temple. He kept moving and retrieved the weapon, then bolted toward the gate.

They both dove into the mine’s wire cage. Ojore slammed the gate shut and punched the button as Scott faced out, one fist tight around the handle of the machete, the other curled into a ball. All his training, all the years of combat…gave him the courage to face the battle.

But not Dembe.

He blinked at the intrusion of that thought. The shouts trailing them and the slow ascent of the elevator guaranteed they’d have trouble topside.

Braced for fighting, Scott pressed his spine against the wire side and waited.

As the cage rose and the opening slid into view, Scott grew uneasy at the empty tunnel. He frowned, probing the dimly lit corridor with his determination to seek out trouble before it found them.

“Where are they?” Ojore read Scott’s mind.

As quietly as possible, he eased the cage back, his gaze never leaving their path to freedom. Adrenaline drenched his muscles.
God, go before us and prepare the way…

Scott stepped out with one foot. He eased the boot down and shifted, cocking his head to one side, then another. It made no sense, but the tunnel was empty.

He motioned to Ojore to exit. They walked close to the wall, covering their six so no one could jump them. At the L-shaped intersection, Scott held up a hand to Ojore. He eased the tip of the machete into the light and into the open, watching the dulled tip for indication of movement.

Nothing.

Holding the machete with both hands, he stepped around the corner. Eerily quiet. And again, empty. He frowned. A flicker to the side spun him in that direction.

The man behind the counter ducked, shaking his head. He didn’t want trouble. Wouldn’t stop them. Scott reached for Ojore and grabbed empty air. Where…where had he gone? Scott spotted Ojore’s shrinking form racing toward the mouth of the tunnel. Toward freedom.

Just like I did.
When nobody had bothered to help him find a way out of an abusive father’s hold, he’d found his own.

Scott realigned his thinking. Shoved aside the specter of the past trying to overtake him. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t thought about his brother in years. Why now?

And the mine…the breath of hell itself seemed to breathe down their necks. Something was wrong. Very wrong. The thought haunted Scott all the way back to their village and into the night. It’d been too easy to escape. Easy meant someone was cheating. And it wasn’t them.

That night in his hut, unease knotted his gut as questions pummeled him. Who was that American? What was he doing in Uganda? No, worse—how had he hidden the yellowcake mining? Did the Ugandan government know about that? What about the UN and United States?

Over the years, as Scott had embraced his fledgling faith and entered Uganda not as a soldier but as a missionary—unofficially—he’d felt the hand of Providence on him. Protecting him. Guiding him. And right now he knew he needed to make contact with someone who could get this information into the right hands. But…who?

The
who
didn’t matter if he couldn’t get to a sat phone. Scott dropped back against the mattress and groaned. That meant going to the peacekeepers. Which meant he’d have to see Dembe.

He’d rather step on an IED.

CHAPTER 9

West Bank

H
e’d kill her. They’d come all the way into enemy territory only to find out it was a trap. Or a ruse. Either way, it didn’t get Nightshade back.

Clang. Thud.

Griffin shifted toward the noise just as Wonder Woman darted toward a bay. Behind a metal gurney, she crouched. Checking their six, he made sure they weren’t going to get ambushed. Then he turned and hunched closer.

Light flashed through his NVGs. He grunted and jerked away, flipping up the lenses. When he looked back, he found her digging her fingers into the wall.

“Help me. He’s in here.”

Heart in his throat, Griffin leaped into action. At her side, he coiled his fingers around the grate. “Aladdin. That you?”

“Yeah…”

The faint answer was enough to reignite Griffin’s hope. With a hard yank, he freed the grate and tossed it aside. “Watch our backs,” he said to Kacie. He used the SureFire and gauged Aladdin’s position. “You stuck?”

“No.” The man’s blue-green eyes peeked at him, then cringed at the light and jerked away. “Just…” A hand extended. “Help me.”

Clapping the guy’s wrist, Griffin wrapped his hand around his forearm. Banging ensued as Aladdin freed himself from the vent. Tugging him to his feet, Griffin noticed he was light—featherweight. “Got your land legs?”

He traced the beam over the assassin. Bone thin, face gaunt, Aladdin nodded—reached for the gurney behind him as he swayed.