Skin Dive (35 page)

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Authors: Ava Gray

Tags: #Romance

BOOK: Skin Dive
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CHAPTER 25
“We can assume
it’s another trap,” Taye said.
Hawk nodded his agreement. “If we’re lucky, that bountyhunting bastard will be there . . . and so will Kestrel.”
It was after midnight; everything was quiet. Mockingbird’s new “intel”—the shit the Foundation was trying to feed him—suggested a farm as their next target, and it was a little too much like the Exeter facility for Taye’s liking. The difference was, this time they knew they were walking into a minefield. There would be no test subjects here, just Foundation hunters looking to tag and bag them.
God, he felt like shit. He was up to four pills per dose now, and his time was limited. More than anything, he wanted to wrap this up.
Let me see the ending. That’s all I ask.
He had no sense of whether that would happen, though, or if he’d drop dead on this mission. Since he’d eschewed all medical care, it was impossible to know how many weeks he had left, or whether, in fact, the span numbered in days instead.
“You fit to fight?” Hawk asked.
“Yeah, I’m solid.” A lie, but one his partner didn’t dispute.
Taye could always pull, no matter how much he hurt . . . and the pain pills they’d found for him didn’t damp his ability, unlike the sedatives Rowan had pumped through his veins.
“Gull’s going in on the other side. He’s leading his own team.”
Others they’d saved—it was amazing to know they’d made a difference. People’s lives had been changed, thanks to them. In the end, maybe he couldn’t ask for more.
“Let’s do this.”
Geared up and ready to rock, they moved as one. The weight of the flak vest was comforting; the night-vision goggles helped even more. This way, the world had a peculiar green cast. Taye scanned the perimeter and spotted the first Foundation goons. He gestured, alerting Hawk, who gave the orders with two hand signals. No weapons on their end—they didn’t need them.
We
are
the fucking weapons.
Hawk took the first two in a silent kill; their necks popped and they went limp. It didn’t matter what kind of armor you wore if somebody could break your bones from the inside out. His partner crept over to make sure of the body count, and then beckoned.
“You still good?”
Hawk nodded. “I took my meds before the run, no worries. Don’t be jealous. You’ll get your shot before too long.”
He grinned and crept along in the big man’s wake. When Taye went to town, there would be no hiding their position, so they needed to crawl farther inside the line and locate Caleb Dunn, along with Kestrel. The bounty hunter wouldn’t let her out of his sight; she was his ticket to finding his quarry in the dark. Now that Hawk had powered up, she might even be leading Dunn in their direction. In fact, they were counting on it. The pain pills left him feeling faintly euphoric, though not stoned as he’d be if he had a normal metabolism.
Bullets bit into the ground as they moved forward. They tore holes in the barn and Taye flattened himself against the side of it.
Hawk swore, diving for cover. “Shit, they’ve got men on the ridge. Too far away for us to touch them.”
If not for the armor plating he’d jury-rigged last time, they would have killed Hawk and him the first time they tried this. But this location was better for the enemy, with very little he could use in that regard. Their chances didn’t look good this time; the Foundation had factored all the angles, except possibly that so many of their subjects were willing to die to shut them down.
“Snipers.” It was a smart move, but maybe Oliver—Gull—could counter. He was running support on this op, and it would help immeasurably if he could take out the sharpshooters.
“Let’s get inside. We want Kestrel, that’s all. If we hunker down, she’ll come to us.”
As they pushed for the barn interior, where they could hide behind machinery and in the stalls, Taye stayed low, avoiding the headshot, but a round still caught him in the back as he rounded the corner toward the open front doors. The impact forced a curse from him and it took him a minute to catch his breath. Hawk put a hand on his shoulder, steadying him as he drew him out of the line of fire.
“Did it go through your vest?”
He shook his head. “Might’ve fractured a rib. But I’m fine. I can finish this.”
“We’ve got movement.”
Taye wheeled on his haunches, and through the goggles, he could clearly see the bounty hunter edging his way across the yard toward them. He was tall, carrying solid muscle, balding but saying
fuck you
to the problem by shaving his head, so what little hair he had was short and prickly. A scar bisected the right side of his jaw.
Yep, that’s Dunn.
A tall, slender woman clung to his hand quite unexpectedly; it didn’t look as though Kestrel was frightened . . . at least not of the man beside her.
Her whisper carried in the night air. “Cale, be careful. We’re right on top of them.”
Taye exchanged a
what the hell
look with Hawk. The big guy shrugged.
“Then they ought to be able to hear me.” Yeah, definitely Dunn—the accent was unmistakable. “I got no beef with you, mate. I’m trying to hand her off, here. Though the Foundation doesn’t know it yet, I’m no longer on their payroll. They’ve done things to this girl that you wouldn’t believe.”
Yeah, I would.
He cut a look at Hawk, who made the call.
“Come inside. If you’re sincere about helping her, we’ll let you go. If this is a trick, I’ll snap your spine.”
“Don’t hurt him,” Kestrel said as she stepped into the barn. “He’s been helping me cope with the shit
you
guys throw at me.”
Fuck. Yeah. Mockingbird’s bombardment.
“I’m sorry about that,” Hawk said. “It wasn’t my call. But were we supposed to let you hunt us for our enemies?”
She gave a bitter laugh. “No. I thought, for the longest time, that someone would come to
save
me. Mockingbird can find anything in the Internet, right? Why didn’t he find me?”
An excellent question.
Hawk explained, “They never put you in the system. We tried, believe me . . . and that was
after
I signed on. Mockingbird lost a lot of people trying to rescue you.”
Outside, the sound of combat reached them. Foundation goons must be going up against Gull’s team. Gunfire cut the night air, screams of pain and muted explosions.
“You don’t have long,” she said then. “Get this out of my head. They can see what I see, you know. They know I’ve found you. They’re fighting this way.”
Shit, that was his cue. “This won’t hurt you.”
At least he didn’t think so. He hadn’t fried Hawk’s brain anyway. Taye turned her head gently, found the hardware, and pulled a fraction of his power. The resultant jolt sent her reeling, and the bounty hunter caught her, his eyes fearful. Yeah, the poor bastard cared.
“Y’all right, Kes?” Dunn peered down into her face.
She clung to him a moment, her breath coming in deep gulps. “Yeah. He shorted it out. I don’t have Big Brother in my head anymore.”
Dunn let go of her then. “That was the deal then. I get you to safety and walk away. This smells like a goatfuck, and I never liked goats.”
“Thank you.” She didn’t have to stretch far to kiss his cheek. “I’ll never forget this.”
Hawk eased to the front of the barn. “It’s getting hot out there. We need to clear out while Gull’s wreaking havoc.”
“No argument,” Taye said, removing his goggles.
He pulled, lightning wreathing his hands. There was no reason to hide his light under a bushel anymore. Time to make some shit go boom.
They came out of the barn together into a nightmare of automatic weapons and live shadows devouring their prey. Taye threw out his hands, twin arcs of raw power striking Foundation goons, who were taking aim at Hawk. They screamed at the voltage, alarming their teammates, but nobody broke and ran.
Not yet.
“Get her out of here,” he told Hawk. “I’ve got this.”
But before the big guy could move on the suggestion, a shot came down from the ridge. A red jewel blossomed on Kestrel’s forehead, and then she fell forward into Dunn’s arms. The bounty hunter dropped to his knees, holding her, while weapons sparked around him; it was like he saw or heard nothing else. He didn’t head for cover. He didn’t draw his own rifle, slung across his back.
Taye did his best to keep the man alive, slamming goons with electricity right and left. Fucking ironic, when you thought about it. Hawk fell in at his other side, and with his power, they turned the tide. In the distance, Gull’s team mopped up those who fled, until, at last, the yard was quiet, and not a single one of the Foundation hunters still stood.
“They killed her rather than let her get away from them,” Dunn said, straightening at last.
Hawk nodded. “They assigned someone for that eventuality.”
“Why?” The question sounded torn from the bounty hunter.
“Because she strengthens us. She would have found more like us and bolstered our numbers. If she’s not in their hands, they couldn’t let her live.”
Dunn swung Kestrel’s body in his arms, his eyes grim in the moonlight. “She deserved better. I know I said I’m out, but not now. Not like this. They’ll pay for what they did to her.”

 

Gillie received two
injured soldiers from Heron that night. Healing wounds always took a lot out of her, and left a fresh scar, but it was better than disease. Nothing hurt as much as that; the boiling blackness in her veins reminded her of Rowan.
The first patient had a bullet in his gut. Without her, he’d surely die.
What a fucking mess.
He’d gone in wearing a vest, she had no doubt, but this was a high-powered round, and it chewed through the Kevlar and into his belly. Thankfully, he was unconscious and didn’t suffer unduly from her inexpert surgery.
Goddammit. I’m not a doctor. I shouldn’t be doing this.
That didn’t stop her from washing up and donning gloves. By the time she finished, blood stained her hands, nearly to her elbows. But her fear wouldn’t let her give up on him. Once she finished with that part of the process, she stripped off her gloves and got the scalpel. Gillie sliced both her palms—a little blood wouldn’t do for him—and sealed them both over the wound.
The power built at the back of her head and then roared down her spine, flaring into her arms and out through her palms. Heat rose, sparking so she could almost see it. She felt his pain and surprise as the shot tore through his gear and into his gullet. The agony left her seeing black spots, but eventually it dulled, scaling back. By the time she had only twinges, she knew it was safe to pull away. With bloodied hands, she checked her stomach. New scar. It sat neatly next to the vertical slice.
Anymore of this and I’ll look like a merc.
The next patient wasn’t nearly so bad off. She had time to clean up and knock back some bourbon before she tackled his flesh wound; that one hardly marred her skin at all. Heron popped in and out, ferrying the men back from whence they’d come. When he came back the second time, she stopped him.
“What’s going on? Those were both gunshot wounds.”
Heron got out his trusty pad.
They tried to save Kestrel.
“Did it work?”
No,
he wrote.
The Foundation killed her.
“What’s going on now?”
They’re planning one final strike. With Dunn’s help, Mockingbird can track the location of the central facility.
“Who’s Dunn?”
The bounty hunter who was chasing you and Crow.
Shit. That would be a story and a half, if he was working for their side now. It sounded like there was more going on than she could readily squeeze out of poor Heron.
“Take me with you. I want in.”
No more sitting around. No more waiting for word. She could fight if she had to, if she was threatened. She wasn’t just a healer; she’d killed, too. As if she’d known it might come to war, she had been training on weapons—handgun, rifle, shotgun . . . she could use all with equal proficiency—since she arrived in Wichita. And she wanted to fight. It was time to put her inner steel to good use.
Heron merely nodded. And he returned for her once he’d delivered the patient he’d come for in the first place. The world swirled and melted; her stomach turned inside out. And then they arrived at the warehouse where everyone else was gathered. It was a huge, rusty place with broken windows and heavy metal rafters forming a catwalk overhead.
People sat around on oil drums, talking or playing cards.
Shit.
Gillie had never seen such a gathering of weirdoes in one place. Most, she didn’t recognize. A few she did. This was incredibly dangerous, but if Heron had been telling the truth—and they really meant to end this, once and for all—then this was a necessary risk. Plus, if Kestrel was dead, then the Foundation couldn’t locate them anyway.

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