Page 3 of Viral Justice

Max looked at the remains of the lead vehicle, but what was left was little more than a chassis covered in bent metal and melted plastic. No one could have survived that.

Stone.

Fear sank an ice pick into his gut. He whipped around to look at the vehicle behind his and saw her running with the men from her vehicle, returning to the base.

Relief burned away the cold, allowing him to breathe again.

Good, the survivors needed to evacuate in case of a follow-up attack.

Shouts from the other side of the flames grabbed his attention, but no one appeared. He turned to check Franz and discovered Ali running toward him, her rifle in her hands. “Max?” she yelled.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded. “I thought you were escorting the others to safety.”

“They’re in good hands.” She glanced at Franz and the blood on Max’s uniform. “You’re the one who needs backup.”

He couldn’t argue the point. That didn’t mean he liked it.

“Are you okay?” He put his hands on her shoulders, sliding them down and over her body to check for injuries.

“I’m good,” she said, wiggling away from him to inspect him instead. “Are you? Is this your blood?”

“No, it’s Franz’s blood. Head wounds often bleed profusely.”

“Help is on its way. Did you see what happened?”

“No.”

She stared at the remains of the lead vehicle with narrowed eyes. “If we were anywhere else, I’d say that was the result of an IED.”

“It could have been,” Max said. “The Boston bombing was a homemade improvised explosive device.” He looked around. “Any injuries in your vehicle?”

“Nothing besides a few bumps and bruises.”

Another explosion had both of them ducking and stepping back from the flames and smoke.

A bullet struck the mess of debris where he’d been standing a moment ago. A second later, Stone took him by the arm and yanked him behind the wreck of his vehicle.

Stone snapped her rifle into position and fired back, but the bullets kept coming. “Get to cover!” she yelled at him.

Not without her. “You too!”

“Max,” she barked. “What did I say about arguing? Get thefuckout of here, beforeIkick your ass.”

She was right. He could be an idiot later.

Max ducked and found himself using the smoking wreckage to hide from more bullets coming in short bursts all around him. He managed to get back to Franz and move the unconscious man into a sheltered doorway, but he still couldn’t determine where the shooter was. There was probably more than one.

Goddamn it, he didn’t have time to be assassinated. He had too much to do.

Movement from beyond the remains of the lead vehicle caught his attention, and a man—no, a boy, barely a teenager—walked slowly and calmly through the rubble and ruined vehicles. A bulky package was strapped to his chest and his gaze searched for someone or something.

The boy saw Alicia, but he didn’t do anything threatening. In fact, he backed away from her, hugged the wall of the building behind him and kept moving.

That retreat from her, from blowing himself up, was probably the only thing that stopped Alicia from shooting him.

Who the hell would use a child as a suicide bomber?

Extremists, fanatics, madmen. It didn’t matter what anyone called them, they were dead men if Max got his hands on them.

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