Page 63 of Mile High With the Bikers
“What the hellis all that noise?” Haney glares towards the door. “Leon, send someone to check it out.” She seems half annoyed, half scared. If we've been found out, are there soldiers coming? And if they are, will she convince them that I’m working with her and just arrest me with everyone else?
Hopefully arrest me. If they see the dead soldiers by the entrance, they might not be in a mood to take prisoners.
I shake my head, trying to calm down. I can't think like that, because I'll just drive myself crazy.
I have no idea how long I can keep Haney thinking that I'm making progress. I've started up all the processes, everything looks like I'm doing things, but without the dongle to run the final routines on it, nothing's going to actually work.
Dad groans in the chair. He's been dipping in and out of consciousness, and I'm so worried about him. We've never had the closest relationship, but no one deserves this.
“Are you in yet?” Mary asks.
I nearly leap out of the chair. How does she move so quietly, when I feel like she's bitching the whole time? Wasn't she checking the noise out in the hallway?
“Almost there. Military systems are tricky.”
“So much for revolutionary technology. Your program bypasses advanced encryption, huh? Tell me it's not all smoke and mirrors.”
There's faint yelling carrying through the building, followed by the much louder crack of a gunshot. Holy crap. I start to get up, but Haney puts all her weight on my shoulders, pushing me back into the chair. “You stay right there,Florence.Your only job is to get into the system and get me the things that I need. I know you can do this faster, so how is this for incentive? You have exactly one minute, and then I execute your father.” She pulls a gun out of her suit jacket from a shoulder holster and aims it at Dad's head.
“Don't.” Gripping my chair, I have to stop myself from leaping out and making her twitch.
“Then hack faster. I know you can.”
“D—don’t do it for that b—bitch,” Dad whispers.
“I’ve got it under control.” But I don’t, and if I don't start to produce something, things are going to get bad, fast.
Another gun goes off, startling me. It takes a moment to convince my brain that it wasn't Haney shooting Dad. That one was closer, or at least louder.
A surge of hope fills me. I need to draw out the time, distract her. But how? Do I tell her the truth? Will that change anything? Sheprobably won't even believe me, but at least if she kills us, I know she’s screwed, too.
“Ms. Haney!” Leon comes rushing back into the room. “We're out of time. The bikers are searching the first floor.”
Wait, did Shrapnel get away? Bikers? Are Bull and Diesel here? I need to buy them time.
“What?” snaps Haney with disbelief. “I thought you said you took care of him.”
Shrapnel. My heart sinks. I knew I shouldn't have trusted Leon, but we didn’t have much choice. I just hoped, probably stupidly, that without a reason to kill him, they’d do the right thing. Closing my eyes for a moment, I try to find enough calm to not show my panic.
Haney doesn't even notice. “How did they—doesn't matter. Quick, build a barricade. Cover the hall. You have guns for a fucking reason and I'm so close!” Her voice cracks once and her gun hand is shaking. She's going to fire it by accident at this point. I don’t get the feeling she’s used to this sort of thing. “Prepare to shoot our way out of here, if necessary. You're trained professionals. They're a bunch of criminals with two damn brain cells to knock together between them. Go!”
“Yes, Ms. Haney.” He immediately directs his men to grab desks and chairs and whatever else they can find to build cover out in the hall.
The way Haney underestimates my guys gives me hope, even though I'm not sure Leon does. His expression has turned grim, but he herds his men back out the door to establish a line of defense.
I need to distract her. Closing my eyes and praying I'm not about to kill both Dad and me, I push my chair back. “I'm in. Come help me figure out what you want.”
“You are? About time.” She runs over, pushing me out of the way as she leans in to examine the screen. “Wait, this doesn't look like?—”
Throwing all my strength into it, I jump from the chair, leading with my knee. It slams into her stomach and knocks her sideways with a grunt. She grabs me for support, and then we both go down in a pile on the floor, punching, kicking, pulling hair, anything that might give one of us the upper hand. With a twist, she flips me over her so we separate, at least for a moment. God, she's stronger than she looks.
“What is wrong with you?” she snaps, having managed to hold on to the gun despite our tussle.
I'm back on her before she gets time to aim it. “I can't let you do this.” Wrapping both hands around her wrist, I try to force her to drop her weapon. I only have to last long enough for the boys to get here.
“Let go, you little bitch!” she hisses and punches me in the jaw with her free hand. God, that stings. I haven't taken a punch since boarding school, and I'd forgotten how much it hurts. “When I'm done with you, you'll look even worse than your loser father.”
“Aw, did you have a crush on him? It’s starting to sound like you’re mad he didn’t want to take you to the prom.” I slam her wrist into one of the legs on the office chair I was in, and there's a faint crack. She screams as the pistol rattles across the floor. I only get a moment of triumph before she gets a grip on my hairand yanks my head backwards so hard I think she's going to pull it all out.
