Page 92 of Merciless

“Dammit,” Cal mutters. “Kid’s supposed to be playing it safe for his family. They’ve pissed him off something fierce for him to pull this.”

One of the hostiles moves out just a fraction of an inch from behind the van, his gun coming into view, trained Runner’s way.

Wraith fires a shot and manages to hit the weapon dead-center, blowing it from the hostile’s grasp.

As the guy stumbles back from the shock of it, exposing more of himself from his cover in the process, Wraith runs with it, reacting incredibly quickly to fire off another shot, this one hitting the hostile in the chest, right through the heart. He drops hard, dead in moments. Interesting. They’re not wearing bullet-proof vests then. Wraith clearly had a hunch, or he wouldn’t have risked that shot when he could’ve taken a headshot. God, he’s good.

The other two attack.

Runner meets their assault, pistol-whipping the closest one, then launching into a brutal hand-to-hand battle with the second, a guy who’s almost twice his size.

Another van comes speeding into the lot.

“Fuck,” Cal mutters. “Let’s move.” He eyes Wraith over his shoulder. “Cover us.” In the next beat, he’s throwing open the door and I’m right behind him, the both of us holding our guns at the ready.

We come out onto the catwalk, exchange a brief gesture signaling that we need to split up, then Cal makes his way to the left and I go right, the both of us heading to either set of stairs that lead down to the ground level and the lot.

Holding my gun at the ready, I crouch low to keep out of sight. The element of surprise is critical when going up against opponents that outnumber you and your team.

As I start descending the steps, I notice that Cal is no longer doing the same. In fact, he’s not even walking quietly, he’s stomping, trying to draw the attention of the Gatekeepers down below.

It takes me a split second to realize why.

As Runner kicks one of his opponents into a metal pillar, knocking him out as he ricochets off it and hits the ground at the impact, the remaining soldiers rush past him, heading for the motel room that Roxana is hidden within. It’s obvious just from watching Runner for a few moments that he’s an incredibly skilled combatant, but even he can’t take down the remaining five men alone. He manages to snag one of them, knocking the guy back, but the other four make it past him.

At eight steps to the bottom, Cal vaults over the staircase and lands on the ground level, right beside the motel room in question.

Shit. He and the soldiers are outside Wraith’s field of fire.

I’m vaulting over my staircase in the next second, forgoing my stealthy approach, given that Cal’s actions have screwed that all to hell. He’s on the warpath, all right. Seeing those assholes getting close to where his daughter is holed up snapped the thin sliver of self-control he’d still had remaining.

That becomes even clearer in the next moment as I bolt over there and see him wailing on two of the guys.

“Motherfuckers!” he thunders as he kicks one of them back, then fists his hands in the hoodie of another, roaring like an animal as he tosses him into a pillar opposite the motel room, the guy jarring against it painfully. He catches a blow from the guy he kicked back, crushing it in the palm of his hand, then twisting sharply to the side until a bone-chilling crack sounds and the guy screams. “Priest thinks he can come after my family? My daughter? He’s dead! Fucking dead!”

He grabs hold of the guy by his broken wrist and uses it as leverage to swing him around into the concrete wall beside the motel room. He smashes his hand into the back of his head, crushing his face against the wall, over and over until the guy goes limp in his hold and collapses to the ground in an unconscious heap.

The guy he’d hauled into the pillar lunges at him. Cal sidesteps the attack, grabs him by the scruff of the neck and shoves his head down, only to be met by a brutal blow from his knee. It smashes into the guy’s face, blood spurting everywhere as it shatters his nose. Cal releases him roughly and the guy stumbles back, cupping his face, completely dropping his defenses with the instinctual reaction. Cal isn’t done with him, not nearly satisfied enough with the damage he’s done. He fires off a shot at the guy’s left shoulder, an ear-piercing shriek tearing from him that can be heard even over the sound of battle. As he flails, another soldier comes at Cal. He grabs the injured guy and uses him as a human battering ram, blowing the incoming hostile back right into Runner’s waiting sweeping kick that has the guy crashing painfully onto the concrete. A kick to the side of the head from Runner’s motorcycle boot puts him out of the fight, knocking him out.

I’m just a few feet out when the roar of an engine catches my attention. I swing my head toward the Sundown Motel entrance to see yet another unmarked charcoal-gray van speeding into the lot.

Come on!

Wraith’s sniper fire rings out in the next moment, giving way to a cacophony of noise. The sound of screeching tires, the truck lurching to a jarring stop, glass exploding as he wails on it, no longer taking strategic shots, but just ripping into the thing.

I’m not surprised. The time for the slow, easy, and methodical approach was shot the second the Gatekeepers provoked Cal by going for the motel room his daughter is hidden inside.

There’s no movement from inside the van for several moments and Wraith ceases fire.

I inch my way toward it, just about to turn the corner to the rear where I know they’re hiding.

But then something pulls me up short.

A grenade comes into view, someone behind the cover of the van holding it up.

“Cal! Get back! Now!” I bellow across the lot.

His head shoots up and his eyes meet mine.

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