Page 66 of Thorn

“Everyone’s out of the building,” Nutsbe said. “I’m seeing jostling. All black clothing. I’m saying that’s the Omega crew playing salmons and swimming your way. You’ve got to get off that X, man.”

“Wilco,” Thorn muttered as he bent his legs and pulled his arms back. As he swung his hands over his head, he thrust up with his legs, catching the ladder by the second rung. He used the momentum and a flex of his biceps to pop his feet up to either side of the window. Walking his feet up the side of the wall, he let his heels slip until they found the miniscule ridge of mortar between the bricks.

“The only easy day was yesterday,” Thorn reminded himself as he pulled up, lifted one hand from the rung, and reached to grab the next one.

Feet sliding, hands slick from sweat, off balance from the pack and the tethered precious cargo, he pulled up again, scrambled his feet again, moved his hands up to meet the other, pulled and grabbed upwards.

Three stories above ground, a feverish disoriented woman balanced on his shoulders, a daunting ratio of bad guys, and only make-do weapons.

Could be worse, though.

Juliette could be a bad partner, and she could start freaking out.

He moved another rung. Thorn pulled that image back. People in stressful situations could suck thoughts out of the air, and the last thing he wanted was to plant the freak-out seed. Instead, Thorn said, “You’re doing great. You’re so damned brave, keep it up.”

“Hey, spidey,” Nutsbe was in his ear. “You’re going to need to hurry that up.”

Thorn exhaled three puffs, grit his teeth and focused. Now that he had done a couple of swings, he’d figured out the mechanics of the movement and was able to move through each step more fluidly.

The faster he moved, the more things shifted, his pack, and Juliette.

She screamed from behind tightly pursed lips, grabbing at his shirt with both hands.

As Juliette slipped the few inches down his back, it yanked the cord on his belt. His pants cut into his balls. That was enticement enough to get him moving, to bring the boys some relief.

He hoped it didn’t make him puke.

Juliette struggled then went lax, and he appreciated it.

Later, he might consider what it had been like to be in her position, blood rushing to her throbbing, feverish head, zip tie cutting into her wrist, trusting a stranger who appeared in the room, and staring straight down three stories to the pavement below.

He wouldn’t have trusted the situation. He’d wonder about why she did later. Right now, he flexed his back muscles and pulled another rung upward. He could hear shouting from the ground. People had spotted him. He heard confusion in their yelling.

Well, hopefully they’d point the rescue crew this way – that or maybe they were yelling that the bad guys were at his heels.

“They’re at your heels,” Lynx said.

Of course, they were.

Three rungs, two, one, Thorn was at the top of the ladder. He reached over the lip, clenched his abs, and swung a leg over the edge. The momentum of the shifting weight on his back pulled him over the lip. But he caught himself before he drove Juliette’s face into the gravel.

On all fours, he pawed his way to the side and looked over.

Billy was looking straight up at him, pissed as hell.

Thorn grabbed at the ladder and shook it viciously.

Billy lost his grip and fell to the landing outside the window.

A beam of light caught him in its glow.

Billy swiped a bloody arm through the air to signal his guy to cut that shit out. Billy stood and grabbed at the rung. This time when Thorn shook it, it loosened, and Thorn was able to yank it upward out of the reach of even someone as tall as Billy.

He patted Juliette’s hand. “Are you hanging in there?”

“Yes.” Her voice shook.

“All right here we go. We’re working on an exit strategy.” His phone buzzed. This time it was a phone call.

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