Page 80 of No Lies No Promises

Muzzle flashes strobe through the windows. Breathing hard, we inch forward until Dante’s voice cuts through the rat-a-tat of automatic fire.

“Abort Plan B.”

Now what?

“Bathrooms.” Lillian points to the east.

Whirring propellers almost drown out the occasional pop of gunfire as we slink under tables and around heavy machinery toward the gender-neutral restroom.

Before I can stop her, she hops onto the vanity, stretches for the overhead ledge, and rises with a pull-up worthy of a gymnast. Hands at her waist, she rests her abs on the sill, squeezing forward until her shoulders disappear through the window.

Worried the damned woman might fall on her head, I jump to secure her wiggling feet. Back inside, she slides along my length, stopping when her toes touch the tops of my boots.

Goggles down, helmet askew, she bobs her head. “No one’s out there. It’s safe.”

Biting back the “Are you mad, woman?” I lace my fingers together for a boost.

Seconds later, ass on the windowsill, she swings her legs and drops to the ground.

“Hurry up,” she hisses in my earpiece.

Unlike her, my shoulders barely fit through the opening. Headfirst, I crawl down the wall, ignoring my throbbing leg. When my hands hit the grass, my feet soon follow. Standing next to Lil, I face a chain-link fence.

Beyond that lies a long, open field. No bushes. No trees. No rocks. Not an option.

“Daed, we’re out. Where to?” I tug Lillian closer in case she’s considering a run.

Before he can reply, a man shouts from the bathroom. “Don’t shoot the drones. Wait for the hazmat team.”

Footsteps crunch gravel to my right. Swiveling on my heel, I double-tap, dropping an armed guy and his buddy. By the time they hit the ground, I have a plan.

“Babe, with me.” No time to explain, I bolt to the bigger of the motionless men, lower to a knee, then unbutton his shirt. Like me, he wears a Kevlar vest.

Ball cap, balaclava, trousers, various weapons… Piece by piece, we become indistinguishable from the men hired to kill us. When we’re finished, we roll the bodies under the shrubs beside the building.

Long guns raised, NVGs covering our eyes, we trot toward a group of eight men guarding the front entrance.

A military drone hovers overhead. If it’s theirs, it’ll no doubt pick up the fading heat signatures of the men we killed. Before I can grab Lilly’s hand and run, a second flying object swoops in, shooting the first out of the sky.

After the wreckage crashes into the sidewalk, an almost seven-foot man stares at our disguises, assessing.

Are we made?

Automatic rifle close, trigger finger ready, I take a calming breath. If necessary, I will not hesitate to mow these men down, starting with him.

The leader lowers his chin toward his comms. “Understood.”

This is it.

As I’m about to shoot, he points in our general direction. “They need you by the loading area. You four. Go. Stay sharp. They made it out of the building.”

Fuck, that was too close.

Lilly and I hang behind the other two who jump into action. Around the corner, no longer in sight of the others, I put a finger to my lips, then signal for her to take the one on the right.

I release the rifle, letting it hang from the shoulder strap. As it bounces at my side, I slide the knife from the utility belt. Lil does the same. Under the bathroom window, my left hand counts down.

Three. Two. One.