Good luck, she mouthed, and suddenly Misha managed a smile after all.
“I love you,” he told them, because chances were this was the last time he’d have the opportunity to let them know. And then, because he also needed to make sure they knew the score, he added, “Anybody comes after Riley, I’ll kill them.”
Riley’s fingers wrapped around his wrist. For a second, Misha thought it was meant to reassure him and while the idea made his heart pitter-patter joyfully, he also made a mental note to let Riley know not to hobble Misha’s gun hand when showing his support.
“We gotta go. Now,” Riley whispered tersely, and that busted that bubble.
Misha frowned. “I know. We’re leaving. I just gotta—”
The grip tightened, reminding Misha once again that the man used to wrangle big-ass animals for a living. There might’ve been a hint of metal.
He didn’t look down to check.
“Helicopters,” Riley snapped. “An even dozen. We gotta go.”
Heli— Shit.
“How close?”
Misha scanned the sky, listened hard, but he couldn’t hear anything yet except for a distant rumble. He looked around, assessing their situation, and didn’t like what he saw. The canyon was a kill box and there was nothing around but flat desert for miles. No cover, no way to outrun a fleet of helicopters. It was a frying-pan-versus-fire kind of deal.
Riley shrugged, grim and tight-lipped. “Too close to run.”
Misha heard the worry beneath the rough tone and a dark, twisting coil of fear. Thanks to McClane, Riley’s options were severely limited; death might actually be preferable to some of the other possible outcomes.
Where Misha’s morbid mind had tortured him with the specter of comas and brain damage before, it was now whispering encouraging things like lifelong imprisonment and, much worse, vivisection. Riley, so used to wide open space, locked in a tiny cell. Riley, strapped to a table, bared to the merciless stares of faceless spooks, reduced to a piece of flesh to be studied.
No, Misha thought, torn between terror and the cold, vicious madness that had woken in him when he’d seen Dotty’s Diner go up in fire and smoke.
This was not going to happen. Not while Misha was still alive.
That was when Andrej lost his marbles. “J.C.!” he bellowed. “Cheat sheet! Now!”
J.C. unhesitatingly joined the madness by calling back, “Coming!”
and ran for the house.
Misha blinked. “What the hell?”
“Don’t look at me,” Kolya growled testily. “Nobody tells me anything.”
FORTY
COWBOYS, aliens, hit men, and now a canyon full of survivalists. Young stared down into the chasm and the flurry of movement their approach was causing and shook his head in disbelief. How was this his life? It was over the top, completely unreal. Butler had been right, this could’ve been a bad action movie. All it needed was a ruggedly handsome hero and a damsel in distress running for their lives. He scanned the ground suspiciously and felt his eyes widen when he promptly spotted a tight formation of people making their way across the canyon. They were the only group that didn’t fit into the smooth pattern of activity going on as the survivalists scrambled to get into position to defend their territory.