Page 3 of Coming In Hot
Using the emergency stairs, I take them two at a time, clearing all four floors of the building before pushing out onto the crowded street. Immediately, I’m consumed by the mob, defending myself from being shoved in every direction. I keep my head down and shove back, cutting directly through the fringe of the horde to the heart of it.
Arlo saw my bird fly over. He shoots up a flare, the sparks bursting over the melee, giving away his position. I’m thirty yards out, but it might as well be six miles in this crowd. I head toward the spot where I saw the flare come from, my arm shooting out reflexively to block my face from a glass bottle being shoved at it. My cheek burns like fire, but I keep moving, head down, tightly clutching the strap of my bag over my shoulder.
The crowd parts, and I see them up ahead. Pushing harder, I shove my way through the pack until I reach Arlo.
“Havoc!” He shouts with relief. “We gotta move.”
“Let’s clear out.” A quick head count reveals we’re not missing anyone, including medical staff. I lead them back the way I came, but it’s slower going now that we’re plus twelve bodies.
I hate that my team is split in half, but that’s the way we do things. Half in front of the volunteers, and the other half bringing up the rear, protecting their six. But my focus is on clearing a path quickly and securing an escape route, and I have to trust that they’ll shoot their way out if need be.
I wish I had my helmet on with my headset, because I can’t hear shit over this crowd. Up ahead, I spot the building and the door I came out of and hustle my team across the street. Again, I take the stairs two at a time, and when I reach the rooftop, I run for Raven and climb aboard.
“Buckle the fuck in,” I bark, sliding my helmet over my ears. “It’s gonna be a rough ride. Quick and dirty, and I can’t promise nobody in that crowd is going to launch a rocket or some other shit at us.”
Arlo settles everyone and then dangles his legs out the side of the bird, his gun gripped tightly in his hands.
“They can fucking try,” he shouts. “I double dog dare them.”
Shit, he looks like he wants to shoot something. Orsomeone.
Opening up the throttle to increase the rotor speed, I wait impatiently until the rotation of the blades is sufficient for lift and tilt up on the cyclic stick.
“GSC, this is Havoc, over.”
“It's good to hear your voice,” Milo confirms.
“Exfil complete. Heading back over the blue route.” She shakes and rattles like an old jalopy as I push her to her limit, trying my damnedest to rush her speed and altitude. We don’t quite make it to five thousand feet before we clear the city, but at least no one tries to launch shit at us.
“We’re all clear,” Arlo says into the comms. “That was close.”
“Too close.”
Orson studies my face and motions to his cheek, touching it with his thumb. “You got nicked.”
I touch my cheek, and sure enough, my fingers come away red with blood. “It’s just a scratch. I can barely feel it.” Probably from the adrenaline. I’m positive my skin is bruising black and blue from all the shoving I endured. “Does anyone need medical attention?” I ask Arlo.
“One volunteer twisted her ankle. Another has a cut on his head, but the possibility of a concussion is low. Other than that, and a few scratches, we’re good.”
As the helicopter soars higher, the sprawling city of Cairo unfurls beneath me like a patchwork of ancient history and modern chaos. The sun dips low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the skyline, the lights of the city beginning to flicker on one by one as twilight falls. My lungs burn from the effort, but as the city comes into view, I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with air for the first time in what feels like an eternity.
The scent of dust, heat, and metal mixes in the air, familiar yet jarring. The chopper banks, bringing me closer to the heart of the city, the streets below humming with life and movement, unaware of the storm heading their way. I let out the breath slowly, the tension in my body easing just a fraction. But only a fraction. There's still work to be done.
My hand grips the edge of my seat, steady now, but the adrenaline lingers beneath my skin, like hot embers.
We’re almost home. Well, home away from home.
CHAPTER2
JAX
Of course,he’s absent. Again. Second time in two weeks.
Not that I’m keeping track.
I just hate liars, and Pharo’s a big fat fucking liar.
Stiles leans in and whispers, “If you stare any harder at that chair, it’s gonna combust.”
