Collateral Damage (30 page)

Footsteps sounded outside the rear door.

Everyone tensed. Honor held a finger to her lips to signal for silence then sank back into her crouch. All four of them kept their gazes trained on the far door as the person approached. Her muscles contracted when the person tried the handle. It rattled, the entire door shaking with the force of the person’s frustration when it wouldn’t open.

Honor’s gaze darted to the left in the direction of her CO’s office. The gun safe was right there. So close but still too far away.

She jumped when the door jolted under the force of a solid kick.

Whoever was out there was about to force his way inside.

Liam pushed the Chinook as fast as it would fly with its full load of Rangers and equipment in the back. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered to Freeman as JBLM finally came into view out the cockpit window, visible from miles away because of the towering plumes of black smoke boiling into the sky.

A deep, burning rage built inside him. Details were still sketchy but he already knew the most important points. The cowardly fucks had attacked not only the President of the United States and its military tonight, but numerous civilians and families on base as well. There were freaking kids and babies caught up in this.

And Honor.

She was down there somewhere and he didn’t know if she was one of the victims. If he thought about it he’d lose it so he shelved his fear for her and focused on flying his bird. The sooner he got on station, the sooner he could help end the threat and hopefully find her.

To his four-o’clock he saw several Black Hawks were already in the air on station, as well as one Apache, all hunting for targets. As far as he knew they hadn’t been able to identify any yet.

Liam blocked out everything but the task at hand as they approached the base. They’d been east of Yakima on a joint exercise with their Canadian counterparts to do live fire training, in the midst of delivering a rigid-hulled inflatable boat to a SF team already in the water when the call had come in about the attack. Command had ordered them back to base immediately to help combat the threat, and assist with helping the wounded. Liam’s crew had dumped the RHIB in the middle of the lake and raced back to pick up the Rangers waiting on shore. The 47 behind them carried both Special Forces A-Teams.

Every single soldier in the air with them right now was impatient to get on the ground and start kicking some serious ass. That is, as soon as they identified the tangos, at least four shooters who were reportedly wearing Army uniforms to blend in.

Liam wanted all of them sent straight to hell courtesy of American-made bullets for what they’d done.

“Razor three, you’re approaching restricted airspace. State your intended approach,” the tower said when they were a few miles out.

“Roger, request direct approach to the eastern PT field for touch down and unloading,” Liam responded.

“Roger, Razor three. Turn left to two-seven-zero. Land at your discretion.”

“Razor three out,” Liam confirmed, then banked to the southwest. The wind shifted, clearing the smoke enough to give them their first clear view of the damage on the PT field.

A giant, smoldering crater marked where the stage and VIP area had been. An unknown number of top brass had been killed in the initial strike. The President’s status and location were unknown. Soldiers and civilians were running in different directions, clogging the streets and snarling the traffic for emergency responders trying to reach the wounded.

Freeman shook his head in disbelief. “Damn, that’s a helluva mess down there.”

Liam contacted the other Chinook pilot. “No more drones reported in the area. I’ll take the west side, you take the east. Let’s see if we can help find some tangos.” His gunners had been doing weapons gunneries earlier and had plenty of ammo left over. They would fucking
love
to wipe the tangos out.

“Roger that.”

Over the ICS, Liam spoke to his crew. “You boys ready to rock back there?”

“Hell yes,” the FE replied, the two gunners responding with similar affirmatives.

Turning the helo to take the western edge of the base, Liam dropped altitude and did a low fly-by to allow his crew to take a good look at what was happening on the ground. Twilight had just fallen but their night vision equipment allowed them to see everything clearly. “Anything?” he asked as he finished the first run.

“Negative,” the gunners said.

“I saw plenty of bodies, but can’t tell friendlies from tangos because they’re all in uniform. There’re lots of civilian casualties too,” the FE added.

Liam swung the Chinook around and did another sweep back the way he’d come, slower this time, scanning the ground via the fancy avionics in the cockpit and looking through the chin bubble beneath his feet. Honor was down there somewhere. Knowing she’d been caught up in this, that she might be hurt or worse while he was unable to help made him feel sick to his stomach.

“Nope, still nothing,” the right-side gunner said when Liam had completed the second pass. He checked with the other pilot but his crew hadn’t seen any targets either.

Liam radioed the tower to request permission to land and received it. He alerted his crew via their comms. “Gonna land west of the PT field and unload.” The Rangers in the back would be locked and loaded, ready to go to work.

Checking once more to ensure it was safe, Liam descended into position, hovered for a few moments, then touched down. The FE lowered the ramp and the Rangers rushed out.

“Happy hunting, boys,” Liam murmured, wishing he was going with them. He and Freeman kept the rotors turning, checking in with command and the tower while maintaining vigilance about their surroundings. No further threats were reported.

Throttling down the engines, he dug his phone out of the ruck he kept between the seats. As soon as he turned it on, messages began to appear.

He held his breath when he saw Honor’s number on display.

Base is under attack. I’m okay. With Ipman and Smithers, have cover.

Thank God
, Liam thought on a long exhale. Felt like an anvil had been lifted off his chest.

Then, a text time-stamped just five minutes ago.

I love you. Never stopped. Need you to know that.

The desperation in the message grabbed him by the throat. That she’d said those words to him now told him just how bad things were where she was.

Fear and grief welled up inside him, making it hard to breathe. He swallowed and ran a hand down his face. He loved her too, more than she’d ever realize.

God, he couldn’t lose her now that she was letting him back in. He’d give anything to turn back the clock to yesterday and spend the entire night holding her, making love to her. He knew she would have given in if he’d pushed, but he hadn’t wanted to coerce her into anything she wasn’t ready for. He wished he’d spent the night in her bed with her, her naked body pressed tight to his.

“That Honor?” Freeman guessed.

Liam merely nodded, afraid to voice his fear aloud.

“Is she okay?”

He cleared his throat. “As of five minutes ago, yeah.” But she’d been afraid she was about to die. No way she’d have sent him that message otherwise. And a lot could have happened in five minutes, especially considering the damage the drone strikes had caused and an unknown number of shooters on the loose with automatic rifles.

She couldn’t be dead. He refused to think it, and he refused to think of her lying wounded somewhere, scared and hurting. Ripped his heart out to imagine it. The scale of the attack was unprecedented and its effects would be felt throughout the country and around the globe in a matter of hours.

His phone buzzed in his hand. He lifted it, expelling a huge sigh of relief when he saw it was Honor.

At HQ with 2 others and civilian. Locked in, safe for now. Waiting for word.

I’m on base
, he typed back.
Hang tight. Love you.

Her reply came a few seconds later.
Love you too. Can’t wait to see you.

Liam couldn’t wait either. The first chance he got he was going to find her and grab her, hold her so tight she couldn’t breathe and not let her go for a long, long time.

But a minute later another text came in.

Someone breaking down door. We’re unarmed.

Liam’s gaze shot out his window toward where her HQ building was located, his entire body tensing. She must be desperate for help if she was texting him rather than running.

Get out or lock yourselves in an office
, he ordered her, frantic to get to her. He was flight leader, but if he abandoned his helo and crew now he could get there on foot in a matter of minutes.

She’s unarmed, facing a possible shooter with an automatic weapon.

His palms began to sweat as he imagined her huddled in a dark office with whoever else was with her, while a gunman kicked the door in. He kept his eye on the digital clock on the dash, made himself wait another twenty seconds. When no further messages came, he couldn’t stand it and texted her again.

Talk to me.
“Say something, please,” he whispered, ignoring the sharp look Freeman gave him.

No answer.

Fuck protocol, he was outta here. “She’s under attack,” Liam said to him as he tore off his helmet and unbuckled his harness. “Someone’s trying to break into their HQ and they’re unarmed.”

Freeman’s features tightened. “Go.”

Liam grabbed his M-4 from the rack above his door. Heart pounding, he climbed out the helo and raced in the direction of Honor’s HQ.

An MP standing guard near the LZ saw him coming and moved to cut him off, holding up a hand. “Sir—”

“I’ve got three unarmed soldiers and a civilian trapped in an HQ building and a shooter’s trying to force his way inside,” Liam snapped without slowing. He’d knock the MP unconscious if he had to, but he wasn’t letting anyone or anything stop him from getting to Honor and he’d accept the consequences of his actions later.

As he neared, the man took in Liam’s rank, glanced at the Chinook he’d just jumped out of, saw the weapon in his hands and must have figured out he was no ordinary soldier because he nodded. “I’ll come with you, sir.”

Liam didn’t answer, just blew past him and sprinted toward Honor as fast as he could, praying he got there in time.

****

Honor sat completely still behind the door they’d just entered into her CO’s office, every muscle rigid as the pounding on the rear door continued. Her heart slammed against her ribs, clammy sweat coating her face and palms. A few more solid kicks to the right place and the dead bolt lock would be useless. She turned toward the cabinets at the back of the room, where the gun safe was hidden.

Then a male voice called out. “There’s another shooter. I can’t get in—somebody open the door!”

Honor held her breath. She knew that voice. She glanced at Ipman and Smithers, who’d both lifted their heads and were staring at the door. “It’s Andrews,” Ipman said in relief, sagging a little.

“Andrews?” Smithers called out before Honor could, needing to verify his identity.

“Yeah! Lemme in!”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes! Now goddammit, somebody open this fucking door!”

Honor started to get up but Ipman stayed her with a hand on her shoulder. “I got this,” he said and rushed toward the door.

“Check first to make sure he’s not under duress,” Honor commanded in a loud whisper, ready to bolt for the gun safe at the first sign of danger.
Or that there’s not a shooter with the muzzle of a rifle pressed to Andrews’s spine.

Ipman nodded and approached the door, keeping his back to the wall. When he reached the door he snuck a peek outside the square-shaped window set into the upper part of it. “He’s alone,” he said, and turned the deadbolt.

Honor didn’t have a clear view from her position in her CO’s office. She caught only a glimpse of Andrews as he stormed in, his gaze cutting back and forth as he visually swept the room, holding what appeared to be a rifle in his hands. Ipman shut the door and stepped in front of him, cutting off her line of sight.

“Could’ve used that about ten minutes ago,” Ipman said to him, gesturing to the weapon. He turned and headed back toward the office they were in. Andrews’s face appeared over his shoulder and in that heartbeat his gaze connected with hers. He stopped walking.

A frisson of alarm streaked through Honor at the odd, fixed way he stared at her. Ipman turned and froze, his half-smile faltering as he watched Andrews uncertainly. “What are you…” He trailed off, his expression transforming into horror as Andrews raised the rifle and turned it on him.

Honor drew breath to scream a warning but it was too late. Andrews pulled the trigger, sending a burst of fire into Ipman’s chest. The bullets went through him and buried themselves in the wall at his back. The specialist fell against the wall, blood pouring from the lethal wounds in his chest, a look of pure disbelief on his face.

No!
The scream locked in Honor’s throat and she recoiled, instinctively moving away as her brain struggled to process what she’d just seen.

“The fuck are you
doing
, man?” Smithers shouted, shoving Honor backward behind him and reaching out one leg to kick the interior door shut with his boot. Honor scrambled to her elbows as Andrews swung the weapon toward them. Smithers dove forward to twist the lock then threw himself backward as Andrews’s chilling voice rang out.

“Girard, I’m coming for you, bitch!”

What
? He was after
her
?

With terrible clarity, she realized he had to be the insider officials had been worried about.

Honor lunged for her sergeant, intent on pulling him behind cover. Her fingers closed around the shoulder of his T-shirt. She hauled him backward, behind the steel desk set in the center of the room. “Smithy—” Her words cut off when Andrews opened fire on the door. Rounds punched through the heavy metal, pinging off the walls and the desk that now served as their only cover.