Don’t Let Go

Excerpt

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Prologue

Locke

Everything about the plan went great—until it didn’t. One moment Remington guided Patch through the quad of the outdoor mall, cold air nipping at them. The next he suddenly veered course and started running.

I barely had time to acknowledge the abrupt shift when a brick wall barreled into me and slammed me to the walkway. Three things registered at once: the pop of gunfire, the plumes of shattered clay exploding where the bullets struck, and screams.

Lots and lots of screams.

I twisted and managed to stay behind the oversized concrete planter as McQuade moved upward, braced on one knee. He raised his gun, and waited a beat until there was another shot. The crack of it was almost too quiet but it might have been muffled by the screaming.

McQuade barely reacted as little plumes of debris went up from the planter and the ground right in front of him. The bullets were close, but he raised his gun slightly higher, eyes narrowed and then squeezed the trigger.

No silencer could muffle the explosion of sound as he fired three shots. The last one silenced the gunfire coming from above. I caught movement in my periphery, and flicked my wrist, releasing the catch on the knife holster on my forearm. The slim handle landed in my palm.

I threw the blade even as I sat. At this range, accuracy was relatively easy. Anticipating the guy’s speed was not. Still, the cold steel struck true, lodging right in the guy’s throat. He went down with a spray of bullets upward, gurgling as he clawed at the blade.

“Nice,” McQuade commented before he fired twice more. Two more targets went down.

“Can you see them?”

“No,” McQuade answered. “You hit?”

“No.”

“Good, then get ready to move.”

“Getting my knife first.” I didn’t wait for his agreement or not. I had a gun, despite being familiar with firearms, I was far more comfortable with my knives. They gave me more non-lethal methods, but since these assholes were targeting Patch, I was fine with the painful ones.

“Comms are out.” The constant buzz of static betrayed a weakness in the plan. One I really didn’t want to think about.

People were still running, the screams had left the main quad where we were and retreated. Sporadic gunfire erupted and I moved swiftly to yank out the knife. The blade might be staunching the wound, but the guy was definitely dead.

Wiping the blood off on the guy’s jacket, I ripped open the pockets and emptied them. He mostly had more weapons, but I found a plain white security card and a phone. I also lifted the guy’s ear piece. The pop and crackle of speech over it carried.

Guess their comms weren’t out.

Assholes.

“Oh,” McQuade exhaled. “I like that plan.”

I tossed it to him. He tucked it over his free ear, then did a sweep. Squealing tires ripped through the parking lots around us. The piercing shrill of sirens approached.

“We need to go,” McQuade said. “British fucker isn’t answering.”

He wasn’t…

Son of a bitch.

“I’m right behind you.”

He took me at my word and headed in the direction we’d last seen Remington and Patch. Movement flickered and I’d no sooner caught sight of it than McQuade fired. He stalked across the open shopping center, a man on a mission.

The gray skies and cold weather did nothing to deter him. When we were almost to the clock tower, he froze for a minute, head cocked.

When he motioned to the earpiece, I nodded. Not that he glanced in my direction. The shift in his posture was my only warning. Something was up.

From minute one, this plan nagged at me. Not because it was a bad plan—it wasn’t a great one, but I’d definitely done more with less. No, what I didn’t like was putting Patch out there. She would be exposed.

Remington went with her. Of the three of us, I think I might have preferred McQuade, only because he was a mad dog and would likely gut someone as look at them. That was definitely the kind of energy I wanted protecting her.

Where McQuade blew hot, Remington was cold and precise. He might not look like he’d burn the world down, but I really didn’t like the chances for anyone going up against him directly. He had been the one to notice the assassins before we did. Right, so maybe not my first choice, but definitely a good one.

“They’re pulling out, but I want to get eyes on them or one of them to question…” McQuade scowled.

“Do we risk it?” Cause I saw the benefits. “Or do we extract and find Patch?”

My choice was pretty easy, but I was far more about stealth than open warfare. Fighting our way through the streets? That was McQuade’s bread and butter.

“Split the difference,” McQuade said as he flattened his back to the clocktower. “Go east.” He pointed to a breezeway between the shops. “They came in on a containment pattern. They are gonna have to withdraw the same way.”

And there were cars that way.

I had the keys for the car we’d used to get here. No guarantee that wasn’t compromised—why we hadn’t left anything in it.

Never thought my car boosting skills would get this much work. I jogged ahead, not rushing out but playing decoy. It took almost reaching the end of the breezeway where it opened to the parking lot to work.

The man in all black combat gear just stepped out of the shadows and swung. Apparently, we weren’t the only ones looking to take prisoners. I blocked, then swung, rotating his arm as I flipped the blade’s angle and brought it down and stabbed him through the back of his shoulder.

The jacket was designed to be bullet resistant and to pad from the impact. Digging the knife right through the seams planted it right into the fleshy part of the muscle.

Then McQuade was there and he jerked the gun from the guy’s hand before coldcocking him with his pistol.

It was almost anticlimactic how fast he went down. “Get a car,” McQuade ordered. “Big one.”

Since that was already my plan, I scanned the lot before I sprinted toward one of the larger Land Rovers. It was the upgraded luxury type.

Good.

It took me a minute to pull out the scanner and plant it against the door. Two buttons and it was skimming signals, testing them. There were only so many—the locks clicked and it was open.

No electronic key, but since I had the frequency, I waited until all the lights went green then pressed the start button. All the gadgets were fun, but I kind of missed digging a knife in and popping the ignition or just twisting some wires in the engine.

The past had a lot more fun.

I backed out then drove straight toward McQuade. Right up onto the sidewalk, I cut the wheels and spun so the rear faced him and I could push the button to release the tailgate.

He loaded our passenger in with a distinctive thump, then slammed the door shut before he climbed into the back seat. Good, I didn’t fancy our guest deciding to attack us if he woke up. I didn’t wait for him to close his door before I was already speeding for the exit. So many vehicles were trying to leave, I didn’t want to get caught in a choke.

I also didn’t miss the black-garbed men moving between the cars in the lot.

They were looking.

For us? For Patch?

I touched the comms at my ear again. Still static, then shot a look at McQuade.

He shook his head once. “They don’t have her. Fucking Brit got her out.”

That was good. I turned onto the green, jumping the curb and driving over the dried mud and dead grass to hit the street on the far side. Apparently, I started a trend, because more cars did the same.

How the hell had they known we were there? Had she been set up? Dammit.

Ten minutes and several blocks later, the comms were still static, but we had no tail.

“Call him.” It was my turn to give the orders. McQuade already had his phone out. It took three attempts before Remington answered.

“Where are you?” McQuade demanded.

“Patch was hit…”

He said something else, but I barely registered it. She was hit? Where? How bad?

“Meet us there. Stay off the open air.” Then Remington was gone, the call cut off.

“He’s taking her to our secondary rallying point,” McQuade told me.

That was almost an hour away. Was she okay for a drive that far?

Goddammit.

“Go faster,” McQuade snapped, but I was already accelerating.

“We need to make sure our passenger doesn’t have any trackers.”

“We will. Just drive.”

end of excerpt