Blood Vengeance

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

Drake saw Smyth overcome a ragged bunch of mercenaries below and silently thanked Alicia for her ingenious foresight. Thanks to her, they now had only half as many enemies to deal with. He lingered by the back of the burning chopper, easing the Delta man’s passage with a few well-placed shots. Men twisted and fell before him. The raging fire licked at the buildings all the way up to the roof. The scream of officers giving orders and men shouting in agony sounded little different in the chaos. When Smyth barreled past Drake and rejoined the group, Alicia grabbed him and planted her lips on his.

“Beautiful one,” she shouted. “Very well done, Smythy, ya mad, angry, little bastard.”

Smyth backed away. “Ah, thanks.”

Drake swore. “Look lively, guys. This ain’t gonna be pretty.”

A knot of Kovalenko’s men, temporarily cut off from their comrades by the inferno, charged at them. At the precise instant when their weapons coughed, Drake’s team flung themselves every which way but loose. Drake hit the dirt, landing prone on his back, shooting between his own feet. Dahl threw Karin into a doorway, took a bullet in the vest, and returned fire without missing a beat. Alicia and Smyth ducked and sprinted to the right. Komodo slipped behind the chopper, his face lit by the flames.

The first runners collapsed at Drake’s feet, and he had to roll to keep his legs free. Sand and grit turned into a red mush of spilled blood. A man launched himself headlong, coming down on Drake’s stomach. A knife slashed. Drake watched the blade pass between his armpits. When the blade struck dirt, he fired into the man’s abdomen, making him twitch. Cognizance soon vanished from his eyes.

A merc stamped past. Drake reached out and tripped him. He scrambled until his back was against the wall. The merc came at him with a knife and pistol. Drake kicked the pistol aside as it fired, sending the shot skyward, and danced along with the thrust of the knife. In the first eight seconds the merc didn’t make a mistake, staying sharp and lethal. Two seconds later, he had lunged a few inches too far and paid the ultimate price.

Alicia and Smyth joined Komodo in finishing off the last of the attackers but, by then, another sizable group were negotiating the flames.

“Fall back,” Drake shouted. “Ammo’s low.”

“You hear that?” a voice suddenly screamed. “Did you? They’re almost dry. Take them! Take them now!”

Drake met the eyes of the others. There was no mistaking the gravelly voice of Dmitry Kovalenko, no matter how perversely excited it sounded. Drake looked at his colleagues, searching hard for their inner resolve, and found pure fire and steel and a will tough enough to withstand hurricanes.

“This battle just became worth every fucking cut and bruise,” Kinimaka grunted. “Everyone here owes this bastard the harshest death.”

“Be careful of his bodyguards,” Karin said. “Mordant and Gabriel. I read about them. They’re said to be the hardest, most dangerous men the penal system has ever seen.”

Kinimaka grunted. “I can second that.”

Drake readied his weapon and turned to face the roaring flames. “The cavalry can’t be far away,” he said. “But this battle ends here and now. We stand.”

Dahl stepped to his right shoulder, Alicia to his left. Komodo, Kinimaka and Smyth ranged out behind him. Karin Blake moved to her boyfriend’s side.

“We stand.”