Page 122 of Defending You
Was there a third team coming to take out the second? Maybe Gagnon thought he could control these new guys. Or they couldn’t ID him.
Yeah, that was probably it.
The guy didn’t leave loose ends.
Like Cici.
Dust motes danced in the crimson emergency lighting, and the scent of death permeated everything. A trail of blood led him toward a door at the end of a corridor.
Through it, he heard two men arguing.
Cici had to be in there.
Asher pressed himself against the wall, straining to make out the words. One voice carried the cultured menace he recognized as Gagnon. The other was rougher. Souza, most likely.
Something about a bird? And then…
“She’s our ticket out of here.” That smooth voice belonged to Gagnon. “The only leverage we have left.”
He was talking about Cici.
Asher itched to bang through that door, to fire off two shots and take both enemies down. Except Cici was in there.
A gunshot rang from below. Another answered. “Got him,” Bartlett said.
“Second team is moving toward the factory,” Whiteman said. “Should I pursue?”
“Negative. Hold your position. They won’t get inside.”
Alyssa’s voice cut through, urgent and clipped. “Dad got the satellite repositioned. Helicopter approaching. Two miles out.”
Asher’s blood turned to ice. A helicopter meant escape. It meant Gagnon could disappear—and he’d take Cici with him.
“How much time?” Callan’s voice was tight with tension.
“Two minutes,” she said, “maybe less.”
“Contact that pilot,” Grant barked. “Tell him if he gets close, we’ll shoot him out of the sky.”
“With what?” The skepticism in Bartlett’s voice was palpable. “The closest thing we have to a bazooka is bubble gum.”
“They don’t know what we have,” Grant said.
The commandos outside weren’t just cleaning up Gagnon’s mess. They would provide clearance. Asher wanted to say as much but feared he’d be heard through the door.
He was trying to figure out how to get in and protect Cici when Alyssa’s voice rang through comms.
“It’s a military copter.” Gone was her dispassionate tone. The words rang with fear. “Pilot refuses to back down. Says if we engage, so will he.”
A beat of silence, and then Bartlett said, “I’m not shooting at military.”
“Same,” Whiteman said. “Sorry, but I’m not going to prison for this.”
Prison? Asher didn’t care about prison. He cared about rescuing the woman he loved, no matter what it took.
But he was rendered silent, too close to the enemy to risk speaking.
“Anyone have eyes on the fire escape?” Grant asked.
