Taken By Terror by Lolita Lopez
Chapter Four
Reeling from the shock of being rescued by Maisie and the other woman, Terror fired at the Splinters chasing them through the woods. He and Grim were in the rear, protecting the group from the onslaught of their enemies. Vicious and a wounded Lethal had taken the lead, traipsing after the speckled dog that seemed to have a destination in mind. Maisie and her friend were in the middle with the blood-spattered brown dog racing alongside them. His mind was filled with questions about the crack shot hunter and the dogs, but those questions would have to wait.
Right now, he needed to know how many of the Splinters were left. He tried to calculate, but he didn’t trust his recollection. “Grim, how many?”
“Fuck if I know,” Grim admitted between heavy breaths as they hid behind thick trees and exchanged fire with their pursuers. “The girl killed ten? Eleven? I got three before we got pinned down.”
“I had four and Vee had two and Lethal had one. At least,” he added uncertainly. His gaze darted around the confusing maze of trees and brush. “If we get flanked—"
“We’re fucked,” Grim finished his thought as he changed magazines. “Where the hell are we going anyway?”
Terror shook his head. “Down. Away.”
“Real fucking helpful, Terror.” Grim fired four shots. “Go.”
Terror took off as Grim covered him and caught up to the girl with the rifle, the huntress. She whistled to get Grim’s attention, and he fell back, racing toward them as he kept low. Like a dance troupe that had been performing together for years, they exchanged positions as they ran down the mountain. Two would stop to provide suppressive fire. Four would run. The next two would stop and the two in the back would run toward the front. On and on it went. Stop. Fire. Run. Stop. Fire. Run. Down and down and down the steep slope.
With a streak of lightning and a crack of thunder, the raging storm Terror and his men had missed during the night began to unleash hell again. Vicious and the huntress had taken up the rear covering fire position now. He raced to catch up to Maisie and Lethal, who leaned heavily on her for support. The wound in his leg had been aggravated by their race down the mountain, and blood soaked his pants. Terror gauged the blood loss and knew it was only a matter of minutes before Lethal collapsed.
He tapped his mic. “We need to hold. Lethal is going to bleed out if we don’t.”
“No cover,” Grim answered, scouting the area. “We’ll get pinned down.”
Behind them, Vicious called out to the huntress. Seconds later, he came across the radio. “The girl says to keep following the dogs.”
Follow the dogs? What kind of bullshit instruction was that?
Seeing Maisie struggling to bear Lethal’s weight, he sprinted toward the pair. She sagged under Lethal’s larger frame but kept moving forward, seemingly determined to get him to safety. When Terror reached them, he slipped into position on Lethal’s other side and took over the burden. Maisie flashed a relieved smile his way before turning to take up a covering position. He glanced back at her, his concern clouding his better sense, and stumbled across the uneven terrain.
“Eyes forward, asshole,” Lethal ground out between clenched teeth. His skin glistened with sweat, and he had gone pale from the pain and blood loss. “Unless you plan to let me fall and break my neck before I bleed out.”
“You’re not going to bleed out,” Terror lied, his focus on the two dogs loping through the woods ahead of them. As stupid as the idea of following two dogs to safety was, he had to admit they seemed to be intent on a particular path. Maybe they weren’t as useless as he had assumed.
“I am,” Lethal grunted as he limped as quickly as his legs would take him. “I heard the general call out for QRF when Hazard and Zeph took their first hit. I heard the Valiant’s reply, and I know you did, too.”
Terror avoided Lethal’s gaze. He could feel it burning into the side of his face as they moved too slowly down the sloping mountainside. He had heard the short radio traffic from the Valiant. The attack on their position had occurred at the same time a digital virus had taken out all the satellite and radar capabilities of the entire fleet. It wasn’t a coincidence. Someone on the Valiant—a traitor—had activated that virus to make sure that the Splinter cell stationed on Calyx was able to get their hands on Maisie again. They needed her back for some nefarious reason and had risked outing their double agent aboard the ship to make it happen.
“There are other ways to fix you up,” Terror insisted as he took more of Lethal’s weight. “We don’t need a rescue team and medics. We just need some basic medical supplies.”
“Pass,” Lethal ground out with a harsh laugh. “I’ve seen enough of your work on other Shadow Force guys to know that I don’t want you sewing me back together.”
“You won’t be awake to argue.” Terror managed a quick look at Lethal. He had gotten paler and sweatier. His eyes were drooping with exhaustion and shock. If they didn’t stop soon and get pressure on that leg, he was going to die.
With a thunder of boots on grass, Vicious suddenly arrived on Lethal’s other side. “I’m out of ammo.”
Terror immediately reached for one of his extra magazines, but Vicious shook his head. He swept Lethal off his feet and tossed him over his shoulder. Yet again, the general’s formidable size had come in handy. He bore Lethal’s considerable weight without complaint. Catching Terror’s eye, he said, “We need to move. The girl says there’s a ravine up ahead. She said to jump and wait.”
“Jump?”
“And wait,” Vicious confirmed and rushed after the two dogs with an unconscious Lethal dangling over his shoulder.
Unnerved by the instruction, Terror slowed down and glanced back to see Maisie sprinting toward him. She had good aim and control of her weapon when she fired behind her, and when she had to switch magazines, she did so smoothly. He caught her gaze, and she made a zero shape with her fingers, letting him know that she was out of ammo. Grim was only a few paces behind Maisie. He flashed a signal at Terror, indicating he, too, was almost out of ammo. Their situation was getting worse by the second.
Lack of ammo didn’t seem to be a problem for the huntress yet. She had switched from her rifle to the pistol, firing scarily accurate shots that nearly always hit their target. Luck had brought her into Maisie’s path, and he could only hope that luck would hold a little bit longer. Whatever awaited them at the ravine had better be something that was going to save their lives.
Up ahead, the dogs started to howl. They didn’t seem to be howling in fear or aggression. It was more like a beacon, a way to alert the humans following them that safety was close at hand. Concerned that Maisie would get left behind and be unable to hear or call out for help, he angled toward and intercepted her. She glanced questioningly at him, and he snatched her hand to swing her forward in front of him.
Vicious, still carting Lethal over his shoulder, suddenly disappeared from view. He had either jumped or fallen down the steep ravine. Maisie sprinted the final bit and jumped without hesitation. He did the same, bracing himself for a painful landing. He hit the ground heels first, his boots digging into the slope and throwing him off-balance. He fell back against the muddy wall of earth and slid down toward the bottom where he flopped into a puddle of murky filth.
As he slung water from his face, Maise reached for him. She was just as dirty, but she seemed to have made a better landing. She grasped his hand and pulled him away from the pool of stinking water. She panted heavily, her eyes bright and her skin ruddy with exertion. Even covered in mud and grime, even with her dirty, rain-soaked hair, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. If anything, her terrible state increased his feelings of protection toward her. He wanted to take her home with him, to bathe her with his own hands, to wash her long hair and brush it out until it glistened. And once she was clean and warm and safe, he would tie her to his bed and use his tongue to learn every inch of her body.
“Shit!” Grim’s curse interrupted Terror’s lascivious thoughts. The assassin crashed down the ravine but managed to stop himself halfway down. He glanced back up and shouted, “Move your ass, girl!”
The huntress appeared above, but she didn’t come straight toward them. She darted off to the right and kicked aside a pile of sticks and rocks. She found whatever she was looking for and rushed to the sharp drop-off. Just before she jumped, she shouted, “Fire in the hole!”
Terror zeroed in on the thin wire in her hand. With a growl, he grabbed Maisie and flung her to the ground. He covered her smaller body with his own and cupped her exposed ear with his palm. She might not be able to hear, but she could still suffer damage and pain. Maisie gripped his wrist, not in an effort to push him away, but in a search for comfort and reassurance. He squeezed his legs around hers, holding her even closer. I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.
A series of explosives detonated, each boom seeming to come quicker than the preceding. They were expertly laid and timed. He had no doubt the bombs had been placed along a path to cut off any advancing enemies. Still covering Maisie, he glanced at the huntress who had both of her dogs under her arms. She wasn’t some simple mountain girl. She had secrets—and he would uncover them all.
When the explosions finally stopped, Grim snarled at the huntress. “You ran us across a fucking minefield?”
The huntress rolled her eyes and gave her dogs gentle pats and scratches to calm them. “It was perfectly safe. Those charges were switch activated, not on pressure triggers.”
While the huntress and Grim argued, Maisie wiggled out from under his cover. Even in their dangerous circumstances, he couldn’t stop the reaction of his body to the feel of her soft bottom brushing side to side across his cock. He cursed his lack of self-control and didn’t try to keep her close as she crawled away from him toward Vicious and Lethal.
As soon as she reached Lethal’s side, she tugged at the man’s belt. With the practice of someone comfortable in emergencies, she fixed the belt above Lethal’s wound and tightened it as a tourniquet. She yanked his uniform shirt free from his tactical pants and bared his belly. Not caring that Vicious was a general or that single women were generally forbidden from touching men, she grabbed Vicious’s arm, turning his wrist for a brief glance at his watch, and then swiped her finger through Lethal’s blood. She painted the time she had applied the tourniquet on his belly in large red numbers.
Her bloody fingers moved to Lethal’s neck, and she counted his pulse and then put her hand on his chest to count his respirations. Her brow creased, and she reached went for the hole in his tactical pants. She tore at the fabric with her fingers, forcing the hole to gape wider so she had a better view of the wound. She lifted her worried gaze to his and signed something that he couldn’t understand. When he couldn’t understand, she made an exasperated sound and searched for the huntress. Maisie waved her hands to get the other woman’s attention, and once she had it, she began to sign urgently.
To his utter shock, the huntress slipped her rifle into her back holster and answered Maisie with fluid hand movements. Taken aback by the easy way the two women communicated, he instantly suspected the woman was a Splinter plant. Before he could voice his suspicion, the huntress explained, “Maisie wants to know if you have something called Hemo-Block.”
“It’s a medication for stopping blood loss,” Terror said, shaking off his suspicion and surprise to rush to Maisie’s side. “I don’t have it.”
“I think I do.” Vicious stopped trying to contact the Valiant or any ship in the vicinity for help. He removed his pack of emergency supplies and opened the pocket with a red stripe on it. He grabbed a handful of the pre-packaged medications and held them out to Maisie who snatched up the correct syringe. She wasted no time uncapping the syringe and sticking it into the meat of Lethal’s thigh, a few inches above the jagged wound. She recapped the syringe and dropped it aside. With blood dripping from her fingers, she signed again to the huntress who translated for her. “Trauma dressings?”
“Here.” Vicious had already taken them out of another compartment on his pack and tossed them. Terror caught them and ripped open a package with his teeth. Maisie reached over and plucked the knife from his boot holster. She used it to widen the tear in Lethal’s pants to make more room for them to work. While Terror slapped a dressing on the wound, she prodded Lethal’s thigh, following a line up his leg until she was near his groin. She felt something then and glanced at the huntress who had knelt down beside her to help.
“She says it’s a prototype bullet the Splinters have been trying to perfect,” Fay explained. She signed as she asked aloud, “What does it do?” Maisie answered, and Fay grimaced. “Sharp prongs eject from the sides of the round when it impacts the target. It tears through the skin and muscle while it travels through the body.”
Maisie touched Lethal’s upper thigh again, her hand disappearing under his bloody boxers to feel the point where his thigh and groin met. She made a face and moved her fingers.
“Femoral artery,” Fay said gravely.
“It must have moved while he was running,” Terror said, placing his hand over Maisie’s and moving her fingers out of the way to feel the hard outline of the round under Lethal’s skin. “It’s just metal? The prongs?”
She nodded and then looked to Fay for help as she signed a longer answer. “The engineers are trying to make the bullets capable of carrying toxins. They haven’t succeeded in the delivery system yet.”
Terror caught the worried expression on Vicious’ face. He said what they were both thinking. “If they can deliver toxins when they shoot us, they’ll be able to clear a battlefield with one-hundred-percent casualties. If the rounds don’t kill you, the poison will.”
“We need to get that bullet to Menace,” Vicious decided. “He may need to take it back to the defense lab on Prime.”
The huntress lifted her head suddenly and listened. Terror hadn’t heard anything that seemed out of place, but she knew these woods better than any of them. He strained to listen and heard only the call of birds. A relieved smile relaxed her stressed face, and she made the most delicate and surreal whistling sound, like some kind of songbird.
“What’s that?” Grim asked, his weapon at his shoulder and fully loaded after rifling through Lethal’s things for extra ammunition.
The huntress stood up and dusted off her pants. “Our rescue.”
