Page 97 of Lockout

“This is a bad fucking idea, Lock,” Rip muttered. “There’s too much damn open space between here and that Tahoe.”

“Zig zag,” Hellfire said. Everyone glared at him and he shrugged. “Better than running straight at it.”

“The way these fuckers shoot, you’ll zag right into their shot, better to go straight,” Butcher said with a snort.

“Guarantee they’re holding their guns sideways as they shoot,” Toxic replied with a laugh. “Assholes watch too much TV. Never going to hit anything that way.”

Shaking my head with a grin, I stared at my target, then tossed over my shoulder. “Get ready.”

I darted, crouching low as I ran, heading for the wall of the garage. My asshole clenched as the familiar sounds of rounds ricocheting off concrete filled my ears. There were screams interspersed with the gun shots so I could only hope my guys were taking some of theirs out.

My brothers knew I’d be fucking pissed if they got themselves shot. I took Hellfire’s suggestion and zagged back toward the middle of the area. As if I didn’t know to fucking zig zag while I ran. Fire flashed over my left shoulder and I knew someone had gotten close and managed to clip me. Maybe Butcher had been right after all. Should have just run straight.

“Lock! Grenade!”

I slammed into the Tahoe’s side, looking over my shoulder. Rip was standing up, pointing. Then the metallic sound made me look down, right as the grenade hit my boot.

Fuck. Me.

Running backward as fast I could, I beat a hasty retreat. I wouldn’t have long. I managed to dive to the side of the first vehicle keeping our asses from getting punched with holes, right as that fucking grenade went off. The Tahoe blew fucking sky high, gaining air before crashing back down. Its alarm was blaring, but as the fire consumed it, it died down to a quiet chirp before going silent.

I dragged myself behind the rows of cars. My brothers were watching me. “That didn’t work out.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Lockout,” Idaho muttered.

“Looks like they don’t mind drawing attention,” Static said with a frown. “Why do you suppose that is?”

“Because they’re paying off the cops. Probably just bought us some more time,” Butcher muttered.

“Great,” Toxic said. “So we won’t all get scooped up by the cops, but that doesn’t help with how the fuck we’re going to get across this divide to those assholes.”

“Or why they’re not leaving,” Rip added.

“What do you mean?” Pyre asked.

“Elevators right there,” Hush said, eyes narrowing. “Why aren’t they sendin’ their guys down to get the fuck out of here?”

“Probably want this over just as much as we do,” Smoke said with a shrug.

“Probably pissed after they found Ford,” Ricochet guessed.

“But they have the same problem as us,” I added. “They can’t come at us without catching a few bullets.”

“So?” Ricochet asked.

“So, what are they waiting for?” I asked, frowning.

Everyone shook their heads.

“They have some kind of plan,” I muttered. “I don’t fucking like it.”

“Not much we can do,” Idaho said. “Only way down is over there,” he pointed to the elevator, “or over the side.”

“That’s a four story drop,” Rip told him. “If you manage to live you won’t want to for long.”

“So what’s the plan?” Priest asked, looking over at me.

“All we can do is wait,” I told him. “Take out any who are stupid enough to show themselves.”

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