Page 96 of Surge

Garrett fumbled with the harness, snagged on the handle. There was too much torque to free it. He crammed his hand between her stomach and the rim of the hatch. “Hold her legs!” he shouted to Zim, who anchored her with a carabiner to himself and wrapped his arms around her legs.

Garrett found the release and squeezed the D ring. Felt the nylon rope between the chopper and train straining.

“Bear—now!” Caldwell roared in his ear.

The stupid ring fought him, but he finally wiggled the catch. Freed it. And grabbed Delaney by her waist and dropped down. She flopped back inside, whacking her head against the hatch before she crashed to the deck on top of him.

Her body was trembling.

Garrett held on tight for a second, then shifted and laid her on the floor.

Delaney pressed her hands to her face, breaths coming in snuffling gasps.

“Hey.” He rested a hand on her stomach. Gave a shake. “You’re okay.”

“No,” she said beneath her hands. “I’m not.” She lowered her arms, and tears streaked her face. But her breathing was steadying out, and Surge was there, snout stuffed in her face, sniffing, licking the tears. She hooked her arms around the fur-missile’s neck and held on.

Garrett was kinda jealous.

“Boss, sorry . . . but we’re losing time.”

“Copy that.” Garrett sat up, resting a hand on his knee, realizing they didn’t have time to get her back up to the helo, which had to clear off. He looked at her. “Guess you’re with me.”

17

OUTSIDE SURABAYA, INDONESIA

Refocused and geared up,Garrett briefed Zim as Delaney shifted to sit in the operator’s chair, her legs still wobbly. She smoothed her hair back into a ponytail.

“Hakim and Tariq are aboard.” Garrett jerked his thumb into the car portion. “Rashid too, but Rogue neutralized him. Unknown if there are civilians up there, but we’ll also have the train driver to deal with.”

“Understood.”

Garrett eyed her. “Think you’re up to handling Surge as we clear the train?”

Wariness crowded her expression, but she slowly nodded. “I think . . .” She shuddered a breath, and the ghost of a smile hit her eyes. “I’m here, so I might as well do what I know to do.”

He liked that. Liked that she’d rallied, that she had the grit to get back in the fight when things got hard. “I’ll take lead, you’ll stay behind me, and Zim will bring up the rear. Use a shoulder tap to signal in position each time we stop. Zim will tap yours, you tap mine. It’ll tell me you’re both ready. Clear?”

Clipping a lead to Surge, she nodded.

Weapon in a low-ready position, Garrett eased through to the connecting freight car. He moved past Rashid’s body and pointed out the LD3s for Zim to mentally catalog for later use.

As they shifted past the body, Delaney let Surge sniff it again, as if maybe hoping she hadn’t really killed the guy. She met his gaze and swallowed. “There, uh, wasn’t anyone else in the car, so we should be okay.”

“Always check,” Garrett said as he pivoted and advanced with lethal determination. “We’ll let him lead in the next car.”

They moved steady and smooth to the next juncture. “Wait,” he subvocalized, hand on the door. When she gave a nod of understanding, he flicked open the door and stepped in, doing a quick look-see, sweeping from the corner around to the right. He stepped forward and motioned her, keeping his weapon up and trained forward. He shifted to the side and looked to her. “Let him take point. Stay with me.”

She nodded and extended the lead, staying just behind his shoulder as they moved through the crates of freight packing the car. They made it to the other door with no hits and no contact. He called that a win.

“Same thing. Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.”

A wry look creased her pretty face, but she again inclined her head.

Again, he eased in, cleared left then swept around to the right. More of the same—crates packed to the ceiling, leaving little walkway. Delaney extended the lead and let Surge again do his thing. Same result—no hits, no contact.

By the seventh car, they’d fallen into a steady rhythm that made things comfortable. Yet he knew this was like Russian roulette—the more they cleared, the more likely that the next door concealed trouble. The metal-on-metal sound of the train wheels on the track drummed a cadence as they continued to advance.

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