Page 58 of Surge

Garrett staggered back with a bloody nose, straining to hear where his Sig went, but the slugger—a second Pakistani—lunged at him.

Not today. He slid in with a right hook. Knocked the guy backward, the impact ricocheting through his fist. He drove his heel into Two’s chest. The man hit the side of the plane. Garrett rolled to his shoulders and arched to his feet.

Two punched at him again, but Garrett ducked. He grabbed Two’s shoulders and slammed him up against a shipping container.

Two swung up between Garrett’s arms, forcing them apart.

Garrett lost balance, grunted as he hit the ground. Hooked his legs around Two’s, flipped himself on top, bashed his fist into the Pakistani’s cheek.

The man’s head slammed into the ground.

Garrett clouted him again.

Two slumped, unconscious.

Straightening, Garrett scanned for more unfriendlies, relieved Delaney and Surge had hidden. He scrambled for his weapon, searching the deck of the cargo plane. Shadows had swallowed it. On his feet, he moved toward the first, now dead, attacker. Felt more than saw movement.

A black blur streaked from behind the LD3 in front of Garrett. Surge charged toward him. He braced himself . . . but the black fur-missile sprinted past. Leaped at Pakistani Three—who’d been headed for Garrett!

Surge’s jaw sank into Three’s arm, eliciting a feral scream. Three shook his arm hard, slamming the black maligator into the nearest container. Surge fell but jumped back up, chasing the man as he ran for the access ramp. Garrett joined the chase.

Delaney stepped out. “Surge, out! Heel!”

The Mal skidded to a stop on the loading ramp. As Three bolted down the ramp just like One had, Surge returned to her side, blood at the edges of his jowls.

Delaney caught his lead and drew him around. Pointed past Garrett to the others. “Surge, attack! Get ’em!”

Surge hurtled past them, down the hold.

What was Surge after? Andwherewas his gun? Garrett spun and couldn’t believe his eyes. Atop one of the containers, with barely enough clearance to stand, Zim was fighting off three more Pakistanis. How’d they get up there?

Garrett sprinted after the Mal, who sailed through the air and landed atop the container. Bounded and latched onto the nearest Pakistani, shook him like a rat. Screams filled the hold.

The Pakistani wrestling Zim was startled by his buddy’s agonized howls, giving Zim an opening. The wiry guy threw a hard right into the terrorist’s jaw. The man stumbled backward and fell off the container.

He lay there in obvious pain, his ankle at an awkward angle. Broken.

Not willing to give the guy time to get up, Garrett landed on him. Yanked out a zip tie and restrained him even as a second Pakistani thudded to the deck next to him, Zim twisting in midair so the terrorist cushioned his fall.

“Dropping like flies,” Garrett muttered, sliding in to help secure the second.

With a grunt, Zim flew upward. Collided with the third, who had high-ground advantage this time and pitched the tech nerd backward. He thudded to the ground. “Augh!” Grimacing, he grabbed his left wrist even as Surge barreled into Third. The two careened off the container.

Garrett tossed the flex tie to Zim, who caught it with his right hand and flex-cuffed the Pakistani with one hand. He reached up to the rim of the container, swung himself onto the LD3.

Surge was relentless, snarling and using that powerful Malinois neck to do serious damage to the fourth terrorist, who shrieked and writhed on the ground, his arm tearing to shreds.

“Surge, out!” Delaney ordered from below.

The intense force multiplier complied. Panting, he sat, laser-focused on the Pakistani.

Garrett grabbed Four’s arms and flex-cuffed him. He sucked in a breath through his teeth as he saw the man’s ink—that S tattoo. Sachaai. “Eagle Three, we have four unfriendlies in need of escort.” His gaze then hit on a dark spot—his weapon! It was somehow wedged beneath one of the container corners. He retrieved his Sig, checked the chamber, and holstered it.

“Already on it, Bear. Local assets en route to retrieve them.”

Garrett took Four by the elbow, forced him to the edge of the container. “Let yourself down,” he ordered.

Shredded Arm sneered at him. With a grunt, he sat at the edge of the LD3 container, and Garrett lowered him down.