Neve fired off more cover rounds, then grabbed a frag off her vest, tossed it. A few shouts rose in the distance, the echo from within the tunnel bouncing the voices around, before the flash bang erupted —washing the view beyond the exit into bright white. Rocks clattered around the threshold, dust and bark shooting out the hole as the light faded, the lingering shriek still playing along the wind.
She changed out her mag, waving them on. “I’ll keep Ramsey’s men occupied. Zadie, you go next, then Wynn, so you’re ready to help Coulter once he’s over. I’ll cross last.”
Her gaze flew to him, chin set, shoulders braced for a fight. He bit back his reply — that he should be last, take the biggest risk. That technically, he outranked her. Hell, he’d seen more violence in his twenty years in the service than he hoped she ever would, but this was her team. Her choice. And he respected her too damn much to question her decision.
He stared at her the way he had at the start of every mission since they’d realized there was more between them than a shared sense of duty. Since they’d been fighting the pull he should have acted on long ago. The look that said he expected her to get her ass over to the other side in one piece.
That dying wasn’t an option.
She smiled, nodded, then turned her focus back to the tunnel. Smoke poured out the narrow exit, the ear-piercing whine still hanging in the heavy air.
Wynn checked the woman’s vitals one last time, adjusting her head to ensure her airway remained clear as Coulter jostled the woman’s weight, wrapping a set of zip ties around her wrist and ankle before locking them together. While it wouldn’t completely free his one hand, it gave him a few options if things turned ugly on the trek across.
Zadie and Wynn inched over, the wind howling, the constant drizzle slicking the beam. They reached the middle, switched their tethers to the other side of the girder — Wynn leaving an extra for him hooked over the cable so he wouldn’t have to bend over to reconnect — then continued on, arriving on the other side a minute later.
Coulter flashed Neve one last glance before he double checked the case, then stepped out, testing his balance as he moved onto the metal support, nothing but utter blackness and a few white rapids visible beneath him. He twisted sideways slightly to prevent the woman’s hiking boots from hitting the cable and knocking off his balance, as he pushed down the grinding pain in his ribs then started moving.
The cable felt cold against his skin, the old fibers scratching his palm as he sidestepped across, constantly shifting his center of gravity to counter the gusting wind. More dirt rolled down the gorge, the entire structure shaking as if waiting for the perfect moment to drop.
The river roared beneath him, the angry current dragging loose logs off the side as it churned, a constant reminder that the water wouldn’t cushion the impact if he slipped — fell the forty feet to the surface. He focused on the slide of his boots across the metal, the hint of citrus from the woman’s shampoo that swirled around him with every gust. How the stringers shook with each step.
He reached the halfway point, took a steadying breath, then unclipped his rigging before grabbing the spare Wynn had left. The cord slipped through his numb fingers, and he had to juggle the damn thing a few times in order to keep it from falling through the cracks. The gear finally clicked into place, the carabiner a comforting presence on his belt as he adjusted the woman, then started moving, the webbing dragging behind him, that cable helping him balance both their weight.
More shots rang out behind him, the urgency in Neve’s quick bursts spurring him on. He chanced a glance back, cursed when she was forced to change magazines again, ducking behind the side of the tunnel as bullets chewed through the rock next to her shoulder, missing her by maybe an inch.
All the more reason to pick up the pace, get to the other side.
He moved faster, each step twice what it had been as a strong gust whistled through the bridge’s bones, the cable singing in response. He paused, waited for it to pass when the cable sagged, swinging a few times before the anchor on Neve’s side snapped, dropped the braided metal into the chasm.
The sudden loss yanked him sideways, another gust adding to the momentum as his gravity shifted, boots slipping off the wet metal, the woman’s added weight dragging him down. He twisted, managing to snag one hand around the farthest beam as he dropped off the side, air clawing at his feet, that wind blasting through his wet clothes.
Pain shot through his ribs and into his chest as he hit the surface, the impact stealing his next breath. His lower body swung beneath the bridge, the tether holding tight at his waist. He panted through the pressure, the woman’s arm half-choking him as he tried to swing his legs, get one on top of the beam.
“Coulter!”
Neve’s voice cut through the wind and the constant creak of the bridge, another aggressive amount of gunfire barking out by the tunnel before her footsteps sounded on the gravel. He looked over at her, determined to tell her to get back, that it wasn’t safe, when she raced toward the bridge, rifle secured across her back, arms pumping.
She hit the beams and didn’t slow, sprinting across the slick metal stringer like a damn logger running along a floating log. No tether. No safety net. Just her arms darting from side to side, her boots pounding across the surface. She reached the halfway point, then dove at him, sliding across the beam like it was home plate, water spraying out from beneath her, nothing stopping her from simply slipping off the side.
She stopped next to the webbing, her hands palmed along the metal, her thighs hugging the beam. Her hair whipped against his shoulder as she leaned over, burrowed her hand under the woman and around the handle on his vest.
His muscles cramped, his ribcage burning as if it might break apart at any moment, the added weight refusing to move.
Neve grunted, looking down before meeting his gaze. “Hold on.”
“Neve don’t…”
She moved.
Swung her body off the side, let gravity do the work as she slipped — hung over the ravine, legs dangling in the air, just her hand on that handle keeping her from falling into the river. The added counterweight pulled his chest up and over the beam, dropping Neve another foot as he wrapped one leg around the stringer, shifted the woman forward until she was centered over the structure.
Neve’s fingers slipped from the sudden shift, and she slid out, her arm brushing along his shoulder. He lunged, caught her wrist in his hand, the force slamming him into the beam.
Dots erupted behind his eyes, his shoulder grinding in the joint, but he held on as she slapped her other hand against his forearm — locked her fingers around him. The stringer shook, the constant motion and extra weight twisting it slightly as a massive groan echoed around them. The rain kicked up, the downpour soaking his skin until he wasn’t sure if either of them could hold on.
Neve motioned to the beam in front of him, and he clenched his jaw, started swinging her — back and forth, side to side until he had enough momentum that she released his forearm — grabbed the stringer. Her arms slipped, dropped her half a foot, but she clawed her way back, got one leg wrapped around the beam.
Rivulets poured off her face, beading the surface as she slowly dragged her body onto the top, chest heaving, her breath wheezing along with his. She didn’t waste time resting, electing to scoot backward until she reached the other end, Zadie and Wynn dragging her off the far side.