Page 123 of Nothing to Fear

Her glassy eyes went wide.

“And me, of course. I’m the star of this production. Do you want to know what’ll happen if those men make it to you?”

Laurel shook her head like the answer was the last thing on earth she wanted to hear.

“I’m going to pull a pin on one of those grenades strapped to your vest. Then you’re going to go pop!” He slammed his heel down on a bug crawling on the floor. “Just like that.”

Laurel started crying.

There was no sign of the jammer in the bathroom from that angle. The only thing for certain was that he had to put down Omega first. If Gideon gave that bruiser the chance to get the drop on him, he wouldn’t live long enough to regret it.

This small element of surprise was all he had, and he was going to make it count. He crept back to the main air duct rear first and reoriented himself at the T-juncture so that he had the advantage of seeing everyone’s position in the room.

Rho stood behind a concrete column. “Our men are holding their own out there. The last car of guys will be here in five minutes. When they creep up behind those motherfuckers, this will be game over.”

As if Gideon’s team didn’t have enough to contend with. Their attention would be focused on the ongoing assault, and the gunfire would mask the sound of anyone coming up on their six. He considered making the slug-slow crawl back to give them a heads-up, but it’d eat up precious time, and he might lose a possible window of opportunity to get into the office and finish this. Finding the jammer and disabling it would solve the problem.

Besides, the team had Ares. They’d manage.

“But I agree with you,” Rho said. “The chopper is ready. It’s better for Daedalus to wait this out someplace safe.”

“He won’t go without me, and before you say it, no. I agreed to this COA and I’m going to finish it. But I’ll try to convince him to leave one last time.”

Heavy footfalls headed back toward the bathroom.

“Hey,” Rho said, moving a few feet away from the pillar, gifting Gideon with the right positioning for a shot. “Daedalus is the primary objective. We’re supposed to do anything to protect him. Maybe that means setting your colossal ego to the side and getting the hell out of here with him.”

“Fuck you.” Omega’s voice boomed underneath the intersecting ductway—four feet away. He would be to Gideon’s five o’clock once he was out of the vent. “I’m not leaving you guys behind to fight our battle for us.”

The heavy thud of boots hitting the floor resumed.

Gideon took the butt of the shotgun and popped out the vent. He shifted the angle of the weapon quickly and pulled the trigger, pumping a round of lead into Rho, up high near the throat. The force sent him sailing backward to the ground like a ragdoll.

Getting out of the air duct was part art, part math, and the rest was physics.

Moving with speed and agility that would make a ninja proud, Gideon dropped out of the vent, rolled, made it to his feet, and spun around with the shotgun raised.

Omega descended upon Gideon like the damn apocalypse.

There wasn’t time to pump the shotgun, loading another shell, aim, and fire. Gideon flipped the short-barreled weapon in his hands and swung it like a baseball bat.

The metal butt connected with a steel chin. Omega stumbled but grabbed the gun with both hands, and Gideon found himself in the unfortunate position of being on the wrong end of the barrel.

Omega’s finger slid to the trigger. Gideon moved his head out of the way just in time. The shotgun blasted a hole in the door instead of his skull.

The .50-cal in the other room was in full gear, taking out chunks of the cinder block wall Gideon’s team was using as cover.

Adrenaline spiked. Gideon swung his right elbow up and around, thrusting it hard into Omega’s head. The guy was strong and didn’t release his grip on the weapon despite the blood that had been drawn.

Gideon twisted the barrel with his left hand and slammed his palm up into the bruiser’s nose. Blood flowed, and the big guy’s grip loosened on the shotgun, but then Omega threw a knee into Gideon’s injured side again and again.

Skin tore around the staples, the wound reopening. Omega secured a hold on the shotgun and yanked it away. Gideon reeled back into a roundhouse kick, driving his foot forward and knocking the gun from Omega’s hands. But the maneuver cost him. A shockwave of scorching pain radiated along his wounded side.

Somehow Gideon drew his Maxim 9 from his holster thigh. Yet Omega was right on top of him, matching him move for move, and whipped his forearm up, jarring the Maxim loose from Gideon’s grip. It went spinning to the right onto the floor.

Neither man stopped or slowed. Vicious blows volleyed back and forth. For a nanosecond, the inevitability of this moment registered. They were two high-speed trains locked on a collision course.

Gideon couldn’t afford to lose, couldn’t afford to give an inch.