Page 41 of Flint's Battle

But Jack was already going to one knee beside Flint, using his phone to assess Emery’s wound. “She’s pulled open her stitches. Made a total mess of her shoulder.”

“You always did exaggerate, jackass.”

Flint inhaled as Emery twisted, lifting her head enough to stare him in the eyes. She was pale and bruised and looked as if she hadn’t slept in a week, but she was breathing. Barely. But alive. “He’s not exaggerating. You look like shit.”

“Charmer. Now, what are you waiting for? Go chase that asshole down. I’m sure he’s headed for the roof.” She arched a brow then nodded toward her brother. “Jack won’t let me die. Promise.”

“Emery…”

She lifted one hand — palmed Flint’s face. “You’ve already saved us. Again. Go.”

He glanced at the door then back at her, allowing Jack to take his place as he stood — took a few steps away.

Emery leaned against the wall as Jack removed his shirt — used it to put pressure on her shoulder. Her eyes rolled, a low moan rasping free.

He froze, any thoughts about running the asshole down fading until she blinked — met his gaze.

God, the smile she flashed him. As if he’d done more than just show up after she and Moana had done all the heavy lifting. Survived when they’d been outnumbered and outgunned.

She motioned to the door, tsking when he shook his head. “Go. But Flint? Forget everything I said the other night about playing by the rules. He’s not worth questioning.”

CHAPTER 13

Flint clenchedhis jaw but took off when Quinn tapped his shoulder. All but gave him a shove as he took up point behind Jack.

Quinn would keep them safe. Carry Emery back to the ward if necessary while still eliminating any possible threat. Though, Jack already had her in his arms and was racing across the room as Flint hit the exit, bouncing the door off the wall as he barreled through. He swept the hallway with his weapon then hoofed it down the corridor, senses on alert. His head on a swivel.

The bastard had a good minute on him. Was probably already closing in on the roof, but Flint wouldn’t let that sway him. He was all-in.

He hit the stairway door still sprinting. Using the extra bounce to propel him up the first few stairs. He didn’t need to slow down to track the guy, that graze Flint had landed leaving a steady trail of blood along the floor.

He took the stairs two at a time, grinning when Bowie and Carter appeared in front of him. Guns drawn. Backs pressed into the wall beside the door leading onto the roof.

Bowie turned, gun aimed Flint’s way before he lowered it and nodded at the exit. “We eliminated three others. One might stillbe breathing, though it’s doubtful. We were heading back your way when we saw another tango dart past the hallway. Carter nearly caught the guy, but he managed to get out and bar the door. We were going to break it down but… Shit. What if Emery and Moana are out there being held at gunpoint? If they have a chopper inbound?”

“The girls are fine, Bowie. Quinn and Jack are taking them back to the ward.”

Bowie stared at Flint for a few seconds, that muscle in his temple jumping before he took a deep breath — turned back to the door. “That’s all I needed to know.”

His buddy backed up then charged, hitting the door with his shoulder — busting through whatever was holding it closed on the other side. The sheer force sent Bowie crashing onto the rooftop, but he simply rolled to his feet, already homing in on the tango racing for the ledge.

Carter lined him up, shaking his head when the guy hit the edge then jumped, landing on the adjacent roof — effectively taking him out of range. “Does he really think that’s going to stop us?”

Carter took off, Flint and Bowie a couple of steps behind him. They picked up their pace, hitting that ledge going full out. Carter didn’t even blink, diving through the air then rolling to his feet on the other side without losing a step. Racing off as if he’d simply jumped off a curb and not cleared a twelve-foot gap.

Flint didn’t land quite as gracefully, slamming his shoulder against the roof before gaining his feet. Needing a few steps to work out the kinks. Bowie stumbled a bit, too, though that probably had more to do with having just broken through the other door than him missing the mark.

But they were sprinting after the other man a couple heartbeats later. Using every trick to close the gap. Carter doveoff to one side when that asshole twisted enough to get off a pull of his gun. Kick up some of the dirt on the roof.

But it barely bought him more than a few seconds. Just enough to scramble over the wall of the adjoining building and take off again.

Flint and Bowie caught up to Carter at the junction, all of them vaulting over the wall and continuing on. Tracking the man as he wove through a maze of air conditioning units and compressors. Taking cover whenever they got close enough the bastard fired off a few rounds.

They reached some metal framing, climbing up and over it before doubling back. Skidding to a halt, again, when the guy stopped at the next ledge. What looked like a twenty-foot drop down to the adjoining roof.

He glanced back, chest heaving. That gun clenched in one hand. But he didn’t raise it, focusing on the drop, again.

“It’s too far.” Flint kept the guy in his sights as he slowly inched toward him, Bowie and Carter fanning out on either side. “Sure, you might live, but no way you’re dropping twenty feet without doing some damage.”

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