Page 128 of Nothing to Fear

In a loud screech of old metal, the fire escape gave way. The joints folded in, the last of the bolts popped from the wall, and the staircase buckled.

Laurel screamed.

Gideon jumped just before the platform crashed, sending up a cloud of dirt. Landing with too much weight on his injured leg, his ankle twisted. He tucked into a roll away from the wreckage, but he couldn’t take in enough air to make sound.

Laurel was still screaming. “Oh God. Oh God. Are you okay?”

He dragged himself upright, shifting his weight to his right leg with a grunt, and gave Laurel a weak thumbs-up. He hobbled inside the building through the rear doors Reece had blown open.

Pressing a hand to his leg, he ran as fast as his injuries allowed, more of a hurried limp really. Sheer determination and rage fueled him. Daedalus wanted to take away Hannah and destroy the Gray Box. Gideon was going to take his life.

He found one of the cases he’d passed earlier, swiped an RPG, and hustled outside.

Not pain, not fatigue, nothing would stand in his way. Nothing.

He pushed the gut-wrenching hurt in his body from his mind and ignored the warm, sticky blood seeping from his abdomen and leg.

Backing up from the building, he searched the sky. He used his ears as well as his eyes. His heart went from a furious pounding to a desperate throb in the hollow of his throat.

There! To the east, he spotted the helicopter. It was within range.

Taking Daedalus in alive and squeezing every dirty secret out of him before killing him would’ve been better for the Gray Box and the country. But that fucker had murdered his wife and threatened Willow and now Hannah. Daedalus had the resources and the motivation to keep coming after Gideon until he made good on his promise to take away what he loved.

Daedalus had to die.

Gideon opened the sights and the grips on the yard-long firing tube and removed the safety cap from the tip of the rocket.

Dropping to a knee in the grass and wincing from the agony, he put the antitank grenade launcher on his shoulder.

He had to get this right. If he missed and Daedalus lived…

No. That was not going to happen.

The target was almost out of range. Cocking the hammer, he closed his left eye. He lined up the sight with his right. Sweat dripped from his forehead, stinging his cornea. His vision darkened, and he shook it off. He focused on the beat of his internal metronome.

He wiped his face with the back of his hand, then scrubbed his palm on his pants.

The slightest jerk, the tiniest slip of his finger would throw off the shot. For the kill, he had to be dead-on. No mistakes.

Panic bloomed as his window of opportunity narrowed. He reacquired the target in his sights and inhaled. The acquisition display beeped. A tiny red light flashed. The helicopter had just slipped out of range. If he fired now, he’d hit nothing.

His chest heaved. He set the RPG on the ground. This couldn’t be over, not like this.

When you go into a fight, it isn’t to lose. You don’t stop. Go all the way. Ben’s words were so loud in Gideon’s head, it was as if he were beside him. He couldn’t succumb to defeat.

Daedalus was due a comeuppance and Gideon was going to be the one to give it to him. Today.

The drone. Gideon had the chopper’s tail number and hopefully the drone was overhead somewhere. They could track that slippery bastard and still end this.

Gideon estimated his position on the ground was about thirty feet from the building, far enough outside the range of the jammer, and got on comms to the Gray Box. “Do we have a drone on site?”

“Yes,” Sanborn said.

Gideon didn’t bother looking for the small UAV. “Patch me through to the operator. Now.”

“Hold,” Sanborn said, trusting him and not wasting time asking for an explanation.

Gideon loved him for that. His breath came in ragged pants. The pain and the sting of his mistake burned through him.