as the scrape and shuffle of heavy boots grew closer. Pretty soon, the fuckers would be standing right over them, and the scant cover offered by the fallen tree wouldn’t matter anymore.
Knox released a shuddering breath. “Con—”
The gun in Conall’s hand beeped, and he pulled the trigger. The incoming gunfire abruptly ceased, replaced by a breathless moment of silence.
“Now,” Nina said, her voice blending with Knox’s as they both gave the order. Everyone rose in unison and returned fire in a deafening volley.
When it ended, the raiders lay dead or dying.
Rafe and Gray joined Dani and Maya as they went to check the bodies, and Nina holstered her weapon. It was an ignominious end, dying in the middle of the road in a well-timed hail of bullets, but Nina had precious little sympathy to spare.
The raiders had chosen their path.
Gray nudged one of the fallen men with the toe of his boot. “Fatigues. Military weapons that belong in a museum. It’s definitely the Dobbins crew.”
Nina rubbed a hand over her face. It came away streaked with someone else’s blood. “How many of them are there?”
“Enough.” Knox walked to the opposite end of the tree and bit off a curse as he gripped one massive shredded root. “It’s another trap. They brought the tree down with explosives.”
“They must have been pretty pissed about us disabling the last one,” she noted. Pissed enough to track them and set up an ambush. “Are they old friends of yours?”
“No.” With a frustrated twist of his wrist, Knox snapped off the root and tossed it away. “Just nasty and prone to grudges.”
“Well, their mistake.” Rafe grabbed a boot and hauled one of the corpses out of the way. “C’mon, Conall. Help me clear the road.”
Conall’s face was flushed. He started toward the closest fallen raider, his movements stiff and unsteady. After two steps, he tripped over nothing and pitched into the fallen tree with a grunt of surprise.
Then he hit the asphalt, seizing.
“Shit!” Rafe vaulted the tree and skidded to his knees next to Conall. “Knox.”
Knox was already moving. He sank down beside them, his face pale and tight with worry. “Get the med-kit. Con—come on, man. Come on.”
They were freaking out, but not shocked. Whatever was happening, they knew exactly what it was. Nina stood back, giving them room to loosen Conall’s tactical vest and brace his head. “What’s wrong with him?”
Gray unzipped the med-kit with a vicious jerk. “Neural overload.”
Her blood chilled. “His implants are malfunctioning?”
“Yes.” Knox bit the word out like a curse. “He’s gone the longest without having them adjusted. It’s hitting him first.”
Nina knelt above Conall’s head, cradling his neck so that Knox had his hands free to dig through the kit. “How do we treat him?”
He surfaced with a nasal syringe and gripped Conall’s chin. He administered the liquid up the man’s nose, then tossed aside the applicator and brushed the hair back from Conall’s sweaty forehead. “This should stop the seizure. That’s all we can do.”
It took less than a minute—forty-seven seconds that Nina ticked off to distract herself from rising panic—but it felt like an eternity before Conall’s spasms began to slow. They lessened in intensity, as well, growing less and less violent until he finally lay still. Sweat soaked his clothes, and his eyes, though half-open, were dull and unfocused.
Gray slipped a small monitor onto Conall’s fingertip and frowned at the tablet in his hand. “Oxygenation and heart rate are okay. He got lucky.”
“This time.” Knox framed Conall’s face with his hands, the miserable weight of responsibility—and failure—darkening his features. “I’ll get him to the truck. Gray, find us someplace secure to stay the night.”
Rafe scooped up Conall’s abandoned tablet and tossed it to Gray. “I’ll clear the road.”
Nina moved to Conall’s feet. “Let me help you carry—”
“I’ve got him.” Knox rose, Conall’s bulk cradled easily in his arms. Nina hurried to open the truck’s back door, and Knox settled him carefully on the backseat.
Dani had joined Rafe in dragging the raiders’ bodies out of the road. But when she reached for the fallen tree, he waved her off and gripped the trunk with his massive hands.
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” she protested.
“Hurt’s relative,” he growled, then hoisted.
Rafe’s entire body strained as he lifted the trunk in agonizing increments. Nina held her breath, waiting for it to crash back down on him—but it didn’t. With a roar, he hefted it onto his shoulders, the rough bark catching on his clothes and in his hair, and began