Page 54 of Fury
Every muscle in Davis’s body was on high alert. The dull ache in his shoulder was morphing into sharp pain, but he shoved away the distraction. Refused to give in to it as they searched the second floor.
No pain, no gain, right?
They followed Chapel into a secondary interior stairwell on the three side. Poured up the steps using their NVGs to see the way once more. He kept his ears trained on Fury for the slightest sign that something was off. Wasn’t making that mistake again.
When Chapel held up a fist at the third-floor landing, they all paused. Didn’t hear a single sound on the other side. “Where are they, Blank?” Chapel was more than miffed right now.
Fury finished sniffing the door and they filtered out. Flipped up their NVGs. Plenty of moonlight filtered in through open gaps in the outer walls. But other than some stacks of cement bags, mixers, tools, and a free-standing TV, screen blank, the space was empty.
Frustration tightened through him—another vacant floor. What was going on?
Chapel shook his head and keyed his mic. “Damocles, sitrep?”
Reports rifled off from the rest of the team—all clear.
“Blank,” Chapel barked into his mic, “what the heck’s going on? It’s empty!”
“Negative,” Blanchard’s reply came over the comms. “They were there!”
“Entering from the north,” Benn subvocalized a minute before a door swung open. As he and the others crossed the room, the bulky operator held up a hand in a quickWhat’s going on?motion.
Chapel glowered as he scanned the room. “Blank, if you plan on having a job tomorrow?—”
“I’m looking,” came Blanchard’s tight reply.
“Look faster.”
Fury sniffed the area around them, and Davis kept track of the RMWD’s body language. Still no alerts. That was good. He wasn’t exactly interested in blowing up today.
Hollyn looked to him without a word.
Light suddenly splashed across her face as the TV screen blinked to life. Weapons snapped toward the screens as Davis and the team turned to the monitor.
Onscreen, Germaine stood next to Archie in one half of the split-screen image. Twerp was gagged and bound to a chair. On the other half, Leila sat, also restrained but obviously in a different room than the other men. The walls behind her were tan, not grey, and almost appeared cushioned. Left eye swollen shut, the other lacerated, she flashed a panic-filled look at the armed guard standing next to her. Her injured face and bloodied shirt betrayed the roughing-up she’d endured.
Give Davis two minutes with Germaine. Guy wouldn’t be able to harm anyone ever again.
“Ah,” Germaine crooned. “Look who finally showed up. The odd squad.” His posture was relaxed, as if he had all the time in the world.
“Blank,” Chapel subvocalized. “Locate the feed’s source.”
“On it.”
Davis studied the backgrounds of both video feeds. Couldn’t distinguish much behind Twerp and Germaine—they were too close to the camera.
“Let’s get down to business,” Germaine started. “All right, Hollyn?”
Davis gritted his teeth and felt Hollyn clinging to the side of his vest.
“I know you’re close with your friends. Don’t make me do something permanent.” Germaine lifted a hand, and the guard next to Leila jerked forward. Jammed his gun into the side of the woman’s head. She yelped, chest rising and falling erratically. “Just tell me where the blueprints are, Sparrow, and everyone here walks out alive.”
Davis didn’t miss Hollyn’s gasp. Adjusting his grip on the M4, he waited for Chapel’s orders.
“I’m not a patient man. You have ten seconds before he pulls the trigger.”
“Wait!” Hollyn shouted, thick tremors in her voice. “I-I don’t know what blueprints you’re looking for.”
“Shut her up!” Chapel hissed via the comms.