Page 1 of Danger Close
Prologue
The hallway explodedwith gunfire.
Ricky dropped low, squeezing three tight rounds into the first shape that moved at the far end of the corridor.The flash of automatic fire lit up the plaster walls in stuttering bursts—like lightning through a tunnel.Someone yelled in Russian.Another voice—closer—screamed as Marsh’s rifle barked sharp and fast.
The air stank of burnt gunpowder, wet wood, and old blood.The walls were too close, the sounds too loud.Ricky’s heart pounded behind his ribs like it was trying to escape.
“Left’s not clear!”Hogan shouted.
“Then we make it fucking clear,” Ricky growled, pushing off the wall and charging forward, rifle steady.A figure stepped from a doorway ahead—too slow.Ricky didn’t hesitate.One shot to the chest, one to the neck.The body crumpled sideways, twitching.
Bateman was behind him, slower than he should’ve been, limping hard.Ricky caught sight of him out of the corner of his eye—face pale, gritted with pain.
“On me!”Ricky barked.“Exit’s twenty feet!”
The steel door at the end of the hallway loomed like salvation.Marsh cleared a path to it, Dale laying down a wall of suppressing fire.Ricky reached it first, slammed his shoulder into the rusty frame, and the door screamed open into a wall of cold rain and deepening twilight.
They burst into the forest like ghosts set loose.
“Slow the fuck down,” came Bateman’s rough voice.“I’m not training for a goddamn marathon here, Ricky.”
Ricky didn’t look back.“Then maybe next time don’t get your ass kicked by a guy named after a salad.”
“His name was Sergei,” Anton muttered.
“Exactly.”
Ricky heard Marsh snort behind them.Bateman grumbled something unintelligible and kicked at a branch, nearly slipping in the mud.Ricky turned back just enough to steady him before he could fall.
“I’m fine,” Bateman snapped, brushing him off.
“No, you’re not.You’re half a step from face-planting into a puddle and I’m not carrying your concussed ass again,” Ricky replied, jaw tight.“Keep up but keep quiet.”
Bateman huffed in a painful breath.“You’re such a dick when you’re worried.”
Ignoring him, Ricky called out.“Van!”
“Yup” Van responded, not taking his eye from his scope, scanning behind them, watching their six like always.
“If he falls behind you and you get him in your scope, shoot him”
Bateman scowled.“Fucking nice.”
Ricky shrugged then moved forward.“No one ever called me nice, LT.”
The trees were tall and close, dripping with rain that fell like glass needles.The air was cooler out here, sharp with the smell of pine and wet dirt.The forest floor squelched underfoot, thick with rotting leaves and mud that sucked at his boots.
They walked on a little more
“You good?”Ricky called.
Bateman shot him a dirty look.“Do I look good?”
“You look like hell and smell worse.Keep moving.”Ricky had always thought honesty was the best policy.
They pushed forward into the trees.Twilight thickened by the second, shadows bleeding across the forest floor like spilled ink.Ricky took point again, the canopy overhead muting the rain but doing nothing for the visibility.He moved fast, scanning for movement, breath fogging in the damp air.
Then, ahead, the trees thinned, and the cracked line of an old road sliced through the woods like a scar.
