Page 39 of Flint's Battle

Flint laughed, shaking Jack’s hand. “Good to know.”

“So, who’s in with Emery, now?”

Flint rolled his shoulders, still trying to ease the restless roil of his stomach. How leaving her for even a few minutes with a guard at the door and her friends gathered round still felt wrong. But she’d need the break, if for nothing else than her mental well-being.

“Her motley crew. They insisted on five minutes of girl time.” Flint glanced at his watch. “They’ve got one left before I crash their party. And before you lose your shit, there’s an officer at the door with a master list. No one gets in who hasn’t been properly vetted by her captain.”

Jack grinned. “In other words, Emery pulled rank and kicked you and your buddies out.”

“Gave me her best stink eye to boot.”

“That sounds like her, except the stink eye part. I’m betting it was more lovey-dovey goo-goo eyes where you’re concerned.”

Flint laughed. He liked Jack. “Not so sure about the goo-goo eyes, but their slumber party’s over. You coming, or are you gonna stand outside the glass wall like a creeper?”

He turned and took a few steps into the open area, glancing toward Emery’s room when he stopped cold. All that tension from before sparking to life — sending shivers down his spine as he spied Mia and Dahlia dragging Emery’s empty bed across the floor toward the window. What looked like handcuffs around their wrists.

“Bowie!”

Flint took off, rounding the corner then barreling into the room — scanning it before darting over to Bates. A couple of fingers along the man’s neck assured Flint the guy was still breathing. But there was no missing the welt at the back of his head. Or the blood matting his hair and staining his shirt.

Bowie skidded to a halt behind him, grabbing the key off Bates then going over to the girls. “What the hell happened?”

Dahlia rubbed her wrist as she pointed to the door. “This guy came in?—”

“Fisher.” Mia frowned. “He said his name was Dr. Fisher but he was lying.”

“Right.” Dahlia nodded. “He said he had to take Emery for some X-rays, but Emery wouldn’t go without one of you or a weapon, and then the guy was grabbing the officer. I swear I didn’t even see it all happen, it was just over, and he had the officer’s gun.”

“He was waving it around, saying he’d shoot us if we made a sound or if Emery tried to fight back. He made her get in a wheelchair and had Moana go with them. They headed down the hall.”

“Did he say where he was taking them?” Bowie glanced over his shoulder when Carter and Quinn darted in. “Mention any other names?”

The women shook their heads.

Carter moved in closer. “We checked the main hallways but didn’t see any?—“

An alarm cut through the air.

That’s all the help Flint needed to zero in on which direction to take because he knew Emery was behind the shrill sound. That she’d somehow managed to send him a signal. Guide him in the right direction. Bowie obviously agreed because the guy took off, handing Flint one of the guns the other men had been hiding so the nurses didn’t kick them out because they weren’t cops — were keeping their status on the down low as much as possible. But at least Flint wasn’t going in blind and unarmed.

They reached the elevator doors in under thirty seconds, but the damn thing was locked down. Stopped somewhere between the upper floors. Carter whistled, holding the door to the stairs open at the end of the hallway. He waved Flint through, checking the lower area before moving in behind them — guarding their six.

Had a door just creaked open above them followed by the soft click of it closing? Were those hushed voices or just the one inside his head screaming at him?

Flint held up his fist, signaling his team to stop when the lights winked out. Not flickering or dimming, just bright glaring fluorescence bouncing off the walls, then nothing but the faint glow of an exit sign half a floor above them.

There were definitely men in the stairwell with them, a couple scuffs drifting down from above. Bowie moved in close, tapping his intentions on Flint’s shoulder. His buddy would take point as the rest of them fanned out — made sure no one escaped.

Having to take each step slowly didn’t help them make up those wasted minutes. But if the men heard them coming, itcould alter their course of action. Maybe have them resort to more lethal methods just to get the job done.

Not happening. Because no one was going to hear his team coming.

Flint kept to the outside, wanting a clear view of the situation as they rounded one corner then continued up. Cursing when a swirl of air curled down the stairs followed by another soft click.

They’d reached the next level.

Bowie picked up the pace, still silent as they made a dash for the exit. They gathered around the door, nodding when Bowie showed the countdown on his hand.

---