The back of his head smacked against metal. Agony exploded through him. This is it. Black smoke filled the air, and he gave into the force soaring him into oblivion. His vision cleared. Sunlight but no heat. Sand beneath his boots but no wind to disturb it. No smells of baking earth, hot metal or burning fuel. No helicopter.
“Where am I?” His question fell flat in the silence. Where was the team?
The placid view rippled open and a man, with skin as brown as the desert materialized a few yards ahead. He wore high black boots and dark pants, and his long strides easily closed the space between them. Leather strips crisscrossed his bare chest. The grips of what looked like two swords stood out at his back. The set of the man’s muscular shoulders along with the hardness in his probing gaze spoke to one thing. Warrior.
Thane reached for the pistol in his thigh holster and came up empty. His desert camouflage uniform remained intact, but he no longer had the weapons he’d carried into the mission. Shifting his stance for better balance, he watched and prepared. He’d taken down bigger bastards than this one. “Who are you and where’s the rest of my team?”
The dark haired warrior’s brow rose with his indulgent expression. “I am Dalir.” Years of foreign-language training didn’t help in placing his accent. Dalir pointed. “You and your comrades are there.”
The helicopter hung cockpit down, suspended in mid-crash. An innate sense of knowing the undeniable erased Thane’s disbelief. His body, severely injured and on the cusp of death, existed across the desert. His consciousness, perhaps his soul, hovered where he stood.
“This is where fate and chance intersect.” Dalir looked to the impending crash. “Fate decided you will die, but chance has intervened. You and your brothers can die as honorable men. Heroes remembered and rewarded for bravery.” The warrior pointed to a swirling mist. “Or you can follow me there. You and your brothers will give up all you love for a life where no one will cherish your existence. You will sacrifice everything, but you will have more than honor. Come with me, and I will give you the gift of mastering time.” Dalir’s direct gaze held his. “And you will save the world.”
Passing seconds flowed through Thane as easily as the air moving in his lungs. He materialized near the oak staircase on the main deck of the super yacht Loelle. Nausea rolled in his stomach. Reid phased in beside him. The pallor of his friend’s face contrasted with his dark buzz cut, but he signaled good-to-go and popped a TUMS. After five years of working for Dalir, phasing onto moving targets was still a bitch.
Shelving the worry of losing dinner on his tac boots, Thane focused on priorities. The empty passageway, the MP5 in his hands, and the latest intel on the hostages. Red Path Anarchy had taken Jerrold Fineway and his daughter. The specs for the luxury craft designated the section below as the accommodations deck, but Red Path had turned it into a lab. They’d find the molecular biologist there. His twenty-one-year-old daughter, held as an incentive for him to complete his work, was on the lower deck.
Thane signaled for Reid to take point, and they crept down the stairs. No opposition in sight. The crew and a few hired guns snoozed peacefully in their beds, not expecting trouble miles out in the Pacific. Reid took a peep down the passageway and signaled he saw one guard, armed, in front of the door.
Mace’s voice came through their headsets. “Ghost Rider, this is Casper One. Package is secure.”
Thane cued one squelch into his throat mic in response. They had Fineway’s daughter—time to move. He squeezed Reid’s shoulder, and his friend quick-phased. An arch of golden light, caused by speeding short distances in time, followed him. The guard’s mouth dropped open, and he fumbled for his weapon. He jerked and went limp. Reid shimmered back into form. Using the same deft touch making him a master on the keyboard, he sat the unconscious man on the floor.
Heart pumping with adrenaline, Thane advanced down the passageway and phased into the lab with Reid. Sensing movement to his left, he spun and aimed.
Sitting on a cot, the balding, middle-aged man raised his hands.
Thane lowered his weapon. “You’re safe. We’re here to get you.”
Doctor Fineway’s expression wavered between bafflement and concern. “What about my daughter?”
“We have her.”
The scientist’s shoulders slumped with an exhale. Blinking, he sniffed and slid his glasses up his nose. “I have to destroy my samples.”
“That’s the plan, but bring your notes. We leave in twelve minutes. Do you need help?”
Fineway shook his head. “Everything is in the cleanroom, and there’s only one bio suit.”
He hurried to his suit, put it on, and went into the glass-enclosed area sectioned off from the main lab. The door slid shut and pressure locks bolted into place.
Reid glanced at Thane. “I’m with you.”