Adrenaline sizzled in Reese’s blood as she clicked the radio and hissed, “Now. Rylan, Beck. Go.”
A moment later, she and Sloan tore out of the woods and opened fire. Their aim was spot on—both Enforcers dropped like stones, blood pouring out of newly created bullet holes. The gunfire from the front of the outpost died just as fast, but before Reese could bask in the triumph of such an easy takedown, Rylan’s voice burst out of the radio.
“Sloan! I need you. Beck’s been hit.”
Reese’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach. Shit. So much for easy.
She peered at the side of the building, waiting for Rylan to appear, but there was no sign of him. “How bad is it?” she barked.
“Not sure, but he was hit in the leg and can’t put any weight on it. And I can’t man the door and carry him at the same time.” Rylan cursed. “Sloan, get your ass over here.”
Reese glanced urgently at Sloan. “Go. I’ll stay here, Rylan can handle the front. You take Beck back to the trucks. Sam can cover me if I need it.”
“I’m not leaving you,” he said instantly.
“You have to. Go take care of Beckett, damn it. We can’t have him bleeding out or slowing us down. The interior guards are going to rush out any second.” Already she could hear footsteps beyond the metal door. Her team had used the communication jammer Xander had given them to distort any signals going in or out of the outpost. The Enforcers inside were trapped, and soon they would burst out to make their last stand.
“Go,” she begged him.
His reluctance was etched into his face, but then he spun around and ran toward the side of the building.
Reese kept her rifle trained on the door, her heart pounding as she waited for another report from Rylan. “It’s a flesh wound,” he finally said. “But he’s bleeding a helluva lot.”
“Sloan’s coming,” she assured him.
Half a second later, he said, “Yup, he’s here. Hold on.”
Reese held her breath, then released it in a shaky gust of relief when Rylan checked in again.
“Sloan’s taking him to the truck. Looks like it’s just you and me, gorgeous. Ready to storm the castle?”
She checked her ammo situation and nodded to herself. She was ready to go. All that was left to do was kill the bastards inside, scavenge for supplies—though she didn’t expect to find any—and call it another successful victory.
“On my count,” she told Rylan. “One. Two—”
The back door swung open, and the number three died on Reese’s lips.
When she saw Eric’s face, his smug smile stretched from ear to ear, she immediately recognized the grave mistake she’d made.
As her pulse shrieked in her ears, she had only a split second to scream into the radio. “Rylan—abort. Now. Run.”
She didn’t hear his response because someone had yanked the radio from her hand. The two guards she’d expected to find charged out the door, except they were followed by two more, and two more, and two more, until she finally lost count of the number of armed uniform-clad men streaming out to surround her.
Eric, meanwhile, stood there with his gun pointed at her forehead, still smiling like this was the happiest night of his life. “Evening, Reese,” he said warmly. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Her gaze darted to the side of the building, her ears ringing from the gunshots blasting through the air. She prayed that Rylan had made it to the woods, that he was throwing his big body over the back of the motorcycle stashed there and speeding away. The alternative—that he was lying in a pool of his own blood on the other side of the building—was too terrifying to contemplate.
“Drop the weapon,” Eric ordered.
She obeyed, because she had no choice. There were a dozen Enforcers pointing guns at her. Even if she managed to kill one, or six, or eight, one of them would blow her brains out.
“That’s a good girl,” Eric said as he kicked her discarded rifle away.
Another wave of gunfire drowned out his next words. Reese’s heart pounded in fear. Fuck. Why were there still gunshots? Where was Rylan? And Sam?
Eric stepped closer and fingered a strand of hair that had fallen out of her hat. He tucked it underneath the black wool, then rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. Reese almost bit that thumb right off, but even she was able to recognize when she was beaten.
“What now?” she asked tiredly.
“Now we go for a little ride.” Eric’s smile widened. “Excited?”
She pressed her lips together and didn’t answer.
“Aw, not feeling talkative? Don’t worry, that’ll change.”
He took her arm and forcibly dragged her to the truck near the gate, while his sharp-eyed men continued to aim their weapons at her as if they were afraid she’d somehow manage to escape.
“Get in,” Eric said cheerfully. “We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.” With a chivalrous bow, he opened the back door for her. “The commander is dying to meet you.”
23