The British immortal glanced at Seth, then back at Nick. “He was afraid to wait. Kayla is ill. She needs medical attention and—”
Nick took a step forward. “What’s wrong with her?”
Gunshots sounded, barely detectable by his ears thanks to high-quality silencers.
“Shit,” Oliver whispered somewhere inside the building, his breathing labored. “Come on, Nick. Where the fuck are you? I’m kinda outnumbered here.”
Nick tensed and started to dart forward.
Seth grabbed his arm, effortlessly holding him in place. We’re here, Oliver, he broadcast mentally. Where are you?
“We just left a warehouse full of crates that had a fire-rated overhead commercial garage door,” he huffed, “and are making our way through the building. I managed to seize a couple of weapons but have no extra ammo.”
Halt your escape and seek shelter. We’re on our way in. Seth met Nick’s gaze. “There are commercial garage doors in the back. You, Imhotep, and I will enter there.”
Eliana stepped forward. “Dana and I will go in through the front door and create a diversion.”
Aidan nodded. “I’ll go with them and keep an eye out for reinforcements.”
Roland motioned to Marcus. “We’ll zip past them and make our way back to you. If we find Oliver and Kayla first, we’ll get them out.”
Seth nodded. “Aidan, Roland, you both have telekinetic abilities. Use them to redirect every surveillance camera you see up to the ceiling so none of this will be captured on video. I’ll do the same on our end. I want to make the cleanup as easy and uncomplicated as possible for Henderson and his crew.”
When they both agreed, Seth released Nick. “Okay. Let’s go.”
He and Imhotep shot away in a blur.
Nick followed, heart pounding, worry filling his stomach with acid. What was wrong with Kayla? Aidan said she was ill. How ill? Ill in what way? Was she ill or was she injured? Had they hurt her?
More silencer-muted gunshots sounded as the three of them approached large garage doors at the back of the building. Surveillance cameras that should be focused directly upon them instead pointed up at the night sky.
Oliver spoke inside, keeping his voice low. “From the storage room, we went right, then left, then left again. I’ve taken out two hostiles in green and gray so far.”
Seth waved a hand. The garage door rolled upward at his telekinetic command, issuing metallic creaks and groans. “Stay here.” Ducking, Seth sped inside.
Nick ground his teeth, impatience battering him.
At the front of the building, Eliana greeted some men and started rambling on about surprising a birthday boy inside with a strippergram.
What the hell was a strippergram?
At last, the creaking door reached its zenith and he could see within. Seth stood in the center of an empty, cavernous room. A camera mounted above the door on the opposite wall stared up at the ceiling, guided there by Seth no doubt.
Another garage door graced the wall to Nick’s left.
It rolled up as Seth approached it.
Nick and Imhotep followed.
As soon as he stepped inside, Nick smelled Kayla, Oliver, blood, and vomit.
Even Seth couldn’t keep him from zipping forward through the maze of crates and boxes until he reached two chairs close together. Rope and broken zip ties littered the floor around them, along with sprinkles and small puddles of blood.
His hands curled into fists.
At least one of them had taken a hell of a beating.
The acrid stench of vomit wafted from behind a nearby crate.
Roland’s words came back to him. Kayla is ill. She needs medical attention.
Had they beaten her until she vomited?
A red haze of fury engulfed him. A growl rumbled up from deep inside his chest and spilled from his lips.
Imhotep strode toward a door Nick hadn’t even noticed. “This way.”
More silenced gunshots reached his ears, accompanied by cries of fear and pain. These were farther away than the others.
Seth fell into step with Nick as they raced after Imhotep. Marcus and Roland have taken out four armed men similar to those Oliver described.
Good. Nick wanted them dead. All of them. Everyone who had harmed Kayla and Oliver. Everyone who had allowed them to be harmed. And Richard Roubal perched at the top of the list. That bastard was going to pay for this.
Imhotep led them around another corner and another. Seth kept pace with him and redirected every camera they encountered while Nick brought up the rear.
Running footsteps approached.
Two men wearing olive-green cargo pants and light gray shirts swung around the corner at the end of the hallway. Both wielded semiautomatic handguns bearing silencers. Swearing, they raised their weapons and fired.
Nick put on a burst of preternatural speed. Pain sliced through his arm and shoulder half a second before he plowed into them. Bones cracked. Their weapons fell to the floor. Then they slammed into the wall behind them, went through it, and sailed into the next room. Crashes and clatter arose.
Nick dove in after them. His vision unimpeded by the darkness within, he took in the vacant office, the desk with papers strewn across it, and the computer keyboard dangling over the edge.
Groans drew him around the desk.
A large desktop computer with a shattered screen rested upon one of his targets. The other man rolled to his side with a groan and struggled to rise.
Rage pumping through him, Nick fisted a hand in the man’s shirt and threw him back out into the hallway.
The man yelped as he hit the floor outside and skidded across it until his head rammed into the far wall with an audible crack. His body went limp.
Nick glanced down at the man under the computer. Even as Nick listened, the bastard’s heart gave one last stuttering beat, then stopped.
Marcus and Roland appeared outside the hole, looked at the dead man in the hallway, then looked at Nick.
“Sooooo,” Marcus said slowly, “does this mean we’re not taking prisoners?”
Nick leapt over the desk and ducked through the hole. “I’m killing them all.”
Roland chuckled. “I like him.”
Marcus rolled his eyes. “You would.”
The two British immortals continued along the hallway while Nick caught up with Imhotep and Seth.
Imhotep stopped outside a door. He grasped the doorknob and turned it.
Bullets tore through the door and peppered his chest. A couple missed and hit Seth.
“Cease!” Seth thundered.
Silence descended.
Imhotep didn’t even stagger backward. He just turned the knob again and pushed the door open.
Oliver stood inside, weapon raised, Kayla draped over one shoulder. Relief washed across his features as he lowered the gun. “Sorry, man. I thought you were one of them.”
“No worries,” Imhotep replied in his baritone voice. He was so ancient and powerful the wounds carved by the bullets were probably already closing.
Nick pushed forward.
Oliver looked like shit. His face was bruised and bloody and battered all to hell. And Kayla wasn’t moving. She didn’t rise up and send him a relieved smile or reach a hand out or burst into tears. She didn’t acknowledge them in any way. She just hung limply, her hair and arms dangling down Oliver’s back.
Nick reached for her.
Oliver grunted in pain as he leaned forward to facilitate Nick’s claiming her.