Page 13 of Raven's Curse
A lone door loomed in the distance, dull moonlight brightening that one panel of glass. The guy’s silhouette appeared against the backlight as he hit the door at a full sprint, disappearing into the fog as the heavy door inched closed behind him.
Chase stopped at the exit, grabbing the handle as he nodded to Greer. She took a breath, then swept out, covering every angle as he stepped behind her, ready to tackle her, again, if he saw so much as a hint of a weapon directed their way. A dark figure shifted in and out of view amidst the fog a hundred meters off, heading toward the fence.
The bastard didn’t even pause, just vaulted over the barrier before continuing on with the kind of easy precision Chase had only ever witnessed in the military. Disappearing into the mist — on what Chase assumed was a path leading into the thick forest bordering the property.
Greer reined him in as they hit the fence line, shaking her head when they reached the spot where the asshole had vanished. “This place butts up against a state park. Nothing but forest and rugged coastline for miles. I’m not saying you couldn’t track him. In fact, I know you could. Would probably have to slow down so I could keep up, but I’m more concerned about that blood. If we interrupted something, and he left someone behind because that…” She shook her head. “That sounded like an AK-47, and who the hell packs flash bangs?”
“No one who hasn’t trained with them.”
Chase stared at the path, something about the way the guy had moved nagging at him. A limp or maybe a slight familiarity. Something that settled hard in his gut. Made Greer’s words slither down his spine. A foreboding he hadn’t sensed since a second before Stein and Adam’s had opened fire inside the helicopter that fateful night.
He snagged her arm when she turned to double back, pain pulsing through his side where he’d caught that round. What he knew would be an impressive bruise by morning. “Before we go, are you okay?” He swept his gaze the length of her. “Did you get hit?”
“How could I with you as my human shield?” She glanced at his side. “And you’re the one with a slug in their vest.”
She took off, heading toward the building in long measured strides. Chase wasn’t sure if she was pissed or impressed, but he could worry about that later. He hadn’t been lying. He was protective by nature. Throwing her into the mix…
It blurred the lines. Reduced her safety to simply black and white. He either kept her safe or died trying.
He moved in behind her, scanning every direction, using all those years in the service to maintain a vigil. They closed in on the rear door, when a hint of a glow caught his attention. He snagged her arm, still scouring the grounds as he stepped in close. “You see that?”
She squinted, then inhaled. “Shit. It looks like that might be a flare or something.”
“I’ve got a very bad feeling about this.”
Greer angled toward the side of the building, sticking close to the wall and reducing any possible sightline. Chase’s phone buzzed, an incoming text he’d worry about later. Though, knowing they might be able to get off an SOS if needed eased the jumpy feeling in his gut.
The fog took on an ominous red glow as they neared what looked like a courtyard, the flare appearing out of the mist in a burst of light. His phone buzzed, again, as boots ghosted into view — black, scuffs marking the toes.
Chase tapped her shoulder. “I know we both want to rush in, but after the AKs and the flash bangs, we’ll take the extra few seconds and check for wires.”
She nodded, circling the man propped against the wall, head slumped forward, hands resting in his lap. IV tubing wrapped under his arms, the ends spiked into the building’s siding above his head. Reminiscent of a rescue harness. Blood stained a spot on the guy’s chest, more oozing from a wound to his shoulder — bullet or maybe a knife — a few drops still dripping onto the cracked concrete. Leaving perfect dark circles against the weathered gray.
Chase’s phone buzzed a third time, something about the urgency of it sent more shivers down his spine.
Greer crouched low, her radio crackling a few times as she skimmed her fingers along the man’s legs and torso. “I can’t check fully beneath him, but I don’t see?—”
More static, then a few broken words. Foster… Rhett… missing…
Chase froze, his gaze flying to the man’s head. What looked like camo paint covering the swath of skin visible beneath hair and shadows. He rushed forward, sliding his medic bag off his shoulder as he went. He felt for a pulse. Thready. The guy’s skin clammy. He took a breath, held it, as he tipped the man’s head back, noting the familiar curve of his jaw. The shape of his eyes. The overwhelming sense of dread that clamped Chase’s throat shut. Held him prisoner for one agonizing moment.
Greer released a harsh breath. “Chase?”
He clenched his jaw, then uttered the two words he knew would forever change him. “It’s Rhett.”
Chapter Four
One breath.
That was all Chase allowed himself to process the scene. To stare at Rhett’s face, his heart lodged in his throat, his hands shaking from the cold slide of fear down his spine.
One defining breath.
Then, he moved, got Rhett onto his back, bandages and clotting powder tossed onto his legs. Chase took vitals, cursed, then ripped open Rhett’s shirt.
He froze.
Stared at the number carved into Rhett’s skin — forty-two. Deep. Precise. The edges too smooth to be unpracticed.
