They knew exactly who they were dealing with and weren’t taking any chances. They’d shot Saint, then finished knocking him out with chloroform. When Jack found Saint, he’d only seen the cloth with chloroform because whoever had shot Saint, took the tranquilizer dart with him. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
Ryden shook his head as he tapped away at the laptop’s keyboard. He cursed under his breath. “I’m sure no one will be surprised to find we’ve been shut out of the system.” With a grunt, he shut the laptop. “No cameras, no calls, nothing. We’re dark.”
“What about our phones?” Fitz asked.
Saint shook his head. “There’s no cell phone service down here. There’s only one way into this room.” He pointed to the huge steel door.
“And one way out,” a voice said from somewhere in the room.
Saint pulled Fitz behind him as they faced the camera in the farthest corner of the room. “Emmett?”
“Hello, boys.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ryden shook his head in disbelief. “You fucking traitor!”
“Who’s Emmett?” Fitz whispered to Saint, who turned Fitz away from the camera to murmur quietly.
“He’s one of Jack’s. Emmett’s been on his team six years.”
How could one of Jack’s own teammates do this?
“Emmett, you need to stop this,” Saint pleaded, turning back to face the camera.
“Oh my gosh! You’re right,” Emmett said with a gasp. “What was I thinking? You know what? I’m just going to go turn myself in to the police right now because that would be the right thing to do.”
Ryden flipped the camera off. “You don’t gotta be such a smartass about it.”
“Smartass is a Four Kings Security prerequisite. I’m sorry, do I need to explain prerequisite? I forgot I need to use smaller words for you jarheads.”
“First of all,” Ryden spat out, “fuck you. You don’t get to use that term. Second of all, Saint’s not a Marine.”
“Whatever. Like I give a shit which mindless group of patriotic thugs you belong to.”
The fact that they couldn’t see Emmett but knew he was on the other side of the camera watching them creeped the hell out of Fitz. He was never going to leave his laptop camera uncovered again.
Ryden turned to Saint. “I’m going to kick his ass; then we turn him over to the police.”
“Let’s make a deal,” Emmett said. “You hand the little homewrecker over to me and I won’t put a bullet in you or your jarhead friend.”
“Or,” Saint replied, “you turn yourself over and we won’t put a bullet in you.”
“Look, I don’t have time for this. Your stupid friends are outside trying to get in, and at some point, they’ll remember the word security and the whole purpose of this building, which means King will have no choice but to let Ace, Lucky, and Joker create their own entrance.”
Ryden pretended he was playing a tiny violin. “Aw, sorry ’bout your luck.”
“Yeah, well. At least I can see out of both eyes.”
“You piece of shit!” Ryden launched toward the camera, only to have Saint hold him back. “When I get my hands on you, you’re going to wish you never set foot in this building!”
It was no secret that Ryden couldn’t see out of his left eye. Fitz had never seen eyes like his. The right was a foggy gray with a ring of amber around it, while the left was half amber, half gray. Some kind of accident while in service had led to Ryden losing his sight in his left eye and being honorably discharged. Fitz never asked, as he felt it wasn’t his place. The fact Emmett would use that knowledge against Ryden was a low blow.
Something clattered loud inside the walls, and Fitz put his hand on Saint’s arm, whispering, “What was that?”
“Sounded like the AC,” Saint murmured. “Shit.” He grabbed a black vest and shoved it at Ryden. “He’s messing with the vents.”
Fitz’s heart pounded in his ears as Saint quickly strapped him into a tactical vest, the weight of it a reminder of the dire situation he was in. A helmet with a visor followed, but when Saint handed him a gun, Fitz shook his head.
“I hate guns. I’m not using that.”
“Fitz, listen to me. Emmett wants you dead. If it comes down to you or him, you need to pull the trigger.”
“I’ve never fired a gun!”
Saint placed the gun in his palm and positioned his fingers around the handle. Was it called a handle? He knew nothing about guns!
“See this? This is the safety. Just move it