Page 56 of Falling Fast

Unable to answer, he nodded, pushing his way toward her. The concrete was already lapping at his ankles, thick, sucking at his shoes.

He tried to scramble out of the way, but the tight, square pattern of rebar a few inches off the ground hampered his movement. In her haste to get out of the way of the concrete Charlie tripped over one of the pieces and went down hard on her side.

No.

Jamie lunged toward her, determined to get her up so they could escape the rapid flow of concrete. Somehow he had to get her to follow him and run to the opposite side of the pit.

And then he’d have to come up with a way to climb out while their hands were bound and shooters stood less than thirty feet away, waiting to pick them off.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jamie saw Baker wave at the second truck. More concrete poured into the pit, doubling the rate of flow.

Baker and his men were still up there on the edge. They would shoot at some point, but he and Charlie had no other choice but to run now. Escaping the concrete was the first priority. With how fast it was flowing in, staying put meant certain death, and he was still praying for a miracle in terms of some kind of backup arriving. If Easton and the others had received the signal from Jamie’s watch, they’d be working to find them right now.

He was almost to Charlie now. Her face was a mask of panic when he reached her. He bent to give her the support of his body along her side as she found her footing. Over the noise of the concrete trucks, he heard the sound of more engines. Glancing up, he spotted two more mixer trucks pulling up to the edge of the pit between Baker and the other trucks.

“He’s gonna bury us alive,” Charlie cried, wobbling as the concrete crept higher and higher up their calves. She took a slogging step, tripped on another piece of rebar and knocked him over. They both fell, the thick gray sludge engulfing them, dragging them downward.

Jamie heaved upward, his heart wrenching as Charlie rolled to her knees, most of her body covered in gray concrete. Fuck, he wished he could talk.

“The only way out is where Baker is standing,” she said, concrete-coated hair sticking to her face and chest, the despair in her voice killing him. “What are we going to do?”

Jamie stopped and glanced back at the bastard responsible. Baker hadn’t given his men the order to fire again, apparently satisfied by being able to watch him and Charlie flail around down here until the tide of concrete overwhelmed them.

For now, anyway.

The earthen ramp stood only a half-dozen yards away, but it might as well have been a half-dozen miles. There was no way they’d get to it before Baker’s men shot them down, and heading that direction in the first place was suicide because it meant battling the strongest flow of concrete.

He spun around, searching frantically for another option, fighting to stay on his feet as the gush of concrete increased around them. One more fall and it might prove fatal.

There was nothing on the opposite side of the pit but a sheer wall of earth, slowly disappearing under a thick gray blanket.

Shouts came from behind them up on the edge of the pit but Jamie didn’t dare look back. He threw himself behind Charlie, putting his body between her and Baker’s men. If the fuckers were going to shoot them like fish in a barrel, they’d have to go through him to get to her.

Nudging her forward with his chest, he said a silent prayer, his heart in his throat as she took an unsteady step forward, the wet concrete sucking at their feet. He steeled himself, bracing for the burn of the bullets as they struck his body—

Gunfire erupted behind him.

He flinched, expecting to feel the burn of hot metal punching into his flesh.

It didn’t happen.

He and Charlie both half-turned to look back, and the sight before them shot a yell of triumph and hope out of his taped mouth. Two men with rifles were crouched behind the cab of a concrete truck, firing at Baker and his men, who had scattered to return fire from behind the car they’d driven here in.

One of the men behind the concrete truck cab shifted, and a shaft of late afternoon sun hit his face. Jamie could have cried in gratitude.

Easton.

Relief and hope blasted through him. He didn’t know how the hell his teammates had found them, and he didn’t fucking care at the moment. His only priority was getting Charlie out of this death trap.

Nudging her with his shoulder, he motioned with his head toward the ramp and immediately took the lead, staying between her and the shooting.

Head down, he charged toward the ramp as fast as he could, fighting his way through the tangled mass of rebar and swirling concrete. It was up to his knees now, making every step a separate struggle as it sucked and pulled at his legs and feet.

His right shoe slipped. He stumbled on another piece of rebar, almost fell but managed to regain his balance and keep going.

The volume of fire up above remained sporadic but Jamie didn’t slow, didn’t even risk glancing up to see what was happening, all his focus on getting to that ramp before one of Baker’s men could take another shot at them.

A small river of dirt cascaded down the ramp. Jamie glanced up. Easton was right there near the end of the rapidly crumbling ramp, stretching out a hand for him, rifle slung across his back. “Come on, come on!” he yelled at them, face set in grim lines.

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