Silence stretched across the airwaves, the utter nothingness jacking up her heart rate. She clicked the mic, again. “Patch? McGuire?”
Another moment of emptiness, then Patch’s voice. Low. Clipped. “Seems there was more damage than I thought. Network’s dead, but the relay’s still live. If I let go of it, it’ll send a jolt to the pressure plate, and I can’t get under the pallet to wedge in a shim to prevent contact without releasing it. I’m holding on, but…”
“Where are you?”
“Two rows down, three over.”
“On my way.”
She paused just a fraction to see if McGuire would respond, then struck off, praying his silence was a matter of safety and not because he’d encountered resistance — had sacrificed his position in order to cut the wire.
Shadows moved along the rows, the odd muttered word sounding above the engines as she quickstepped across the deck, ducking behind a container whenever boots scuffed nearby.Sweat beaded her skin, the humid air hanging thick around her as she turned down the last row, caught a glimpse of Patch.
Face ashen, hand shaking, he looked as bad as she felt. He frowned when she moved in close, gaze drinking in the aftermath of her fight withMartillo. “What the fuck happened to you?”
She scoffed. “Martillo. Guy doesn’t take no for an answer.”
“Shit, are you okay? Where…”
“Skewered to one of the pallets.” She waved off the way his mouth hinged open. “I’ll explain later. First, let’s see what we’re dealing with.”
She crouched low, gauged the available distance, then crawled under. Mud and gunk covered the bottom, the small unit half-cracked as it pressed against the lip at an unusual angle.
Riven eased back, grabbed a few tools from the small kit she’d brought. “It must have gotten damaged by the forklift. Keane’s damn lucky the whole thing didn’t blow up on him.”
Patch smirked. “Yeah, really seeing how this might bite him in the ass.”
“I think I can carve out some of the wood, stick something inert in there…”
Her voice trailed off as footsteps sounded near the corner, a small beam brightening the darkness before one ofMartillo’smen rounded the far pallet, turned toward them, rifle at his waist.
No time to think, she just snagged her knife, threw it across the dark stretch of deck as she dove forward. The blade caught the guy in the shoulder, had him reeling back, muzzle sweeping their way. She dodged right, grabbed a loose ratchet strap off the pallet and lassoed it around his neck as she slipped past.
The rifle clattered to the deck, the asshole’s fingers scratching at the webbing as she braced her knee in his back,pulled. The material creaked, the metal end thumping against another pallet as they stumbled back, the guy’s size nearly taking her to her knees. She held on, muscles cramping, that line along her ribs stealing her breath until the creep’s movements slowed, head eventually lolling to one side, body collapsing onto the floor.
She followed him down, sucking in a harsh breath before loosening her hold. A couple zap straps, and part of his shirt as a gag, and she had him heaped against one of the containers, silhouette blending in with the shadows.
Patch shook his head as she staggered over, wiped the guy’s blood off her knife before crawling under the crate. “I’m treating those wounds once I can move my damn hand.”
“Nothing life-threatening.”
“Maybe you should let the medic be the judge of that.” He sighed as she started chipping away bits of wood. “Remind me never to piss you off.”
She snorted, the small movement burning through her ribs. “I’ve seen you in action. That’s not something I’d like to be up against.”
“I don’t know. The way you throw those knives…”
“Would barely slow you down.” She slipped out, snagged his med kit and removed one of the emergency splits. Some quick work with her knife and she had the internal metal piece removed and had ducked underneath the pallet, again.
It took her holding the pressure plate with one hand as she worked the strip into place with the other, to eventually get it wedged in tight — trust they wouldn’t blow up the second Patch released his thumb.
She scooted out, nodded. “Moment of truth, I suppose.”
Patch clenched his jaw, easing his thumb back a millimeter at a time, looking as if he planned on covering her if things got messy. The relay clicked into place, everything inside herbracing for impact, as Patch wrapped her in his arms, buried her beneath him.
She waited, heart hammering, sweat slicking her skin until the moment passed, nothing but the deck creaking as Keane’s fast boat roared on the other side of the barge. She peered at the crate once Patch moved over, gave her room to breathe. “Guess it worked.”
Patch shook out his hand as he readied his weapon, darting out to check the area before coming back. “I think I aged five years.”