Page 30 of Midnight Escape

Devon came back on the phone when Danny was about to hang up. “They’re on the cliff. Just north of where you arrived.”

“Hell no!” he almost screamed into the phone. “We’ll get pinned down.”

“Your bird will be there before you make it. Trust me, Danny,” Devon requested once again.

With a sigh that couldn’t wash away the cold sweat covering his body, he remembered Devon had never steered them wrong. “Okay, we’re moving.” He disconnected, tossed the sat phone in his backpack, and hurriedly slipped it over his shoulders. Gut deep worry that he would bring them to their death, stuck at the cliff.

“We gotta blow this joint and fast,” Cowboy stated, breathing a little heavy.

“Together, we head to the cliff.”

A frustrated quiet filled the air, so Danny explained, “Devon says they’re there.”

They headed at a fast yet smart clip in the forested part toward the cliff. His heart beat fast and not because of the exertion. Not only were they skirting guards in the woods, they’d be vulnerable in the open where they’d board the helo.

He couldn’t wait for his team leader to get his ass back to work. Filling in for Boss sucked. Just plain sucked.

At the edge of the cover, they knelt to keep from being seen. While Doc—because he had the package—turned from the danger and watched for their ride, the other three had their backs to him prepared for anything.

By now they should hear the whomp-whomp of the rotors bouncing off the walls of the ravine. Nothing. Christ. Devon couldn’t be wrong.

They didn’t need this problem. The four could probably do some damage, even with limited ammo and supplies, but having an unconscious five-year-old on for the ride decreased his confidence in their success. Then they’d still be without a ride.

A small displacement of air warned him before he heard the faint whirl of a helicopter. He whipped his head around and his mind almost couldn’t process the abnormality. What the fuck had Arthur sent?

Then he saw it float above the ravine and land one skid on the ground for them to board. Holy Christ. He’d heard these birds existed, but no one would ever admit it. Stealth-like.

When shots came from the bird, he stiffened a moment with a quick thought of friend or foe, but none of his men dropped, so he took that as a good sign.

He called to his team, “Hot loading!”

Cowboy, a former Air Force Pararescueman, quickly jumped in. “I’ll break ’em in.”

“Good, you go first. Help Doc.”

When Cowboy opened his mouth to say whatever it was, he commanded him, “Go, go, go.”

Danny had to hope everything went right because the gunfight was closing in on them and their only free space was the drop-off.

After Stone made it, Cowboy’s voice halted him. “It’s too hot. We’re swinging around for you. Hang tight.”

“Hang tight” he wanted to mimic. Alone, adrenaline took over. He hot-loaded his weapon—ejecting his clip and quickly replacing it with another—and fired at the nearest tango. Without the sniper on the bird taking out threats, he was busy, which meant his hiding spot had been compromised.

Knowing what to listen for, he heard as the bird neared his position.

“They’ve got you covered, Ball Park. You’re going to like it. It’s a sweet ride. Now we gotta blow this popsicle stand. And I’ve rolled out the red carpet for you.”

He grinned. Cowboy always brought levity when needed and knew he loved all things helicopter, but his smile quickly froze. Did he say “roll out the red carpet?” Oh, holy fuck. Only Cowboy would call one maneuver that.

Swallowing back his fear, he made the dash, found the ropes, and anchored the carabiners on his harness to the SPIE rope and the safety line, wished he had goggles, reminded himself he never wanted to do crap like this on a regular basis, then walked forward, kicking off the cliff into nothing.

Chapter Twelve

The moment the helicopter touched ground in Maryland, Danny exited first and stalked to HQ. He’d only barely noticed that their ride had powered down. He’d eagerly checked it out during the flight and a refueling stopover. HIS needed one of these birds because they were about the next best thing to sliced bread. It sucked because the helo technically didn’t exist, but a man could crave adventure.

He started for a moment. Had they landed on a helicopter pad in the making? Hope jumped up his chest at the thought. He hoped one day he could bring the men and women back and forth from ops. Get them out of all kinds of situations whether light or deadly. There he went again thinking he’d fly, knowing that was unlikely.

At the heavy entry door, with his mind back in the game, he punched in his personal code. When the door opened, he turned to make sure it closed behind him, but his team brought up the rear.

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