"Hold on," Soren said, as Howard's hand moved toward the ignition. "Let's see what this is first."Out on the street, five vans had swung hard into the hotel's service road and braked along the curb in rapid succession. The doors burst open and more than thirty men poured out, armed with steel pipes and short blades, their faces set with the particular ugliness of people who had been paid to hurt someone and were looking forward to it. The one leading them was lean and wiry, a sleeveless black shirt showing the sharp definition of muscle built through use rather than vanity, a headband pushed back above a face full of cold intent. He pointed at the two Land Rovers and shouted something that carried even through the car windows.The mob surged forward as one.The two Land Rovers were caught in the worst possible position, bottled up at the entrance to the parking structure with a vehicle blocking the road ahead. The drivers threw them into reverse, trying to push back

Everyone gathered around the couch except Wilson, who had been left to one side. Soren, Mark, Evan, Cody, and Hank sat in a loose circle, the stone and its message on the table between them. Mark dialed the number.It picked up on the second ring."Mark Dalton." The voice on the other end was flat and synthetic, run through some kind of electronic distortion. "What you've been doing has been exposed. If you want to live, do exactly what I tell you."Mark glanced across at Soren. Soren gave a small nod."Who are you?" Mark said."That doesn't matter. All you need to know is that I want the same thing you do. I want to stay alive."A picture message arrived while the voice was still speaking. Mark opened it and felt his jaw tighten. It was a complete layout of the Crownline Royal Hotel, detailed and current. He had managed to get hold of the original architectural drawings for the hotel some time ago through a contact, but original blueprints were never t

Cody pressed the handle down and shoved the door open hard.Soren was already moving. One long stride carried him through the frame, his rifle stock dropping from his shoulder into a tight low-ready as his muzzle swept upward in a tight arc, tracing every corner of the stairwell in a single fluid motion. By the time Cody came through behind him, weapon angled toward the upper flights, Soren had already confirmed the ground floor of the stairwell was clear.They moved up, backs to the wall, footsteps measured and quiet.Above them, the stairwell was alive. Flashlight beams strobed down through the gaps in the flights, and the low murmur of voices drifted between the landings. A group of guards, more than a few, moving with the unhurried ease of men who had been called somewhere and weren't in any particular hurry to arrive.Evan's voice came through the earpiece. "This is Evan. All security personnel inside the building appear to have been mobilized. They're conve

A few minutes earlier."A sniper?"Duke Calloway's first instinct, hearing the word, was that Panther had been compromised somehow. He dismissed the thought almost immediately.The guard who had come stumbling back through the casino doors was still catching his breath, his face pale and slick with sweat. "It's real, sir. There's a sniper out there. We've already lost several men. The ones still outside can't move, and anyone who tries to pull them back gets pinned down."Duke stood very still and let his mind work.Based on the Harborview Hotel parking lot footage, he'd estimated Mark Dalton's group at a minimum of three shooters. Panther had reported only two entering the underground garage. That left one unaccounted for. One who hadn't gone inside. One who was now somewhere in the dark above street level, working through Duke's men with a rifle.He pulled out his phone and called Mark directly. No text, no coded message. Just a call.It rang out

The ringing in Duke Calloway's ears was shrill and relentless, drilling through the fog in his skull like something alive.He opened his eyes slowly. The parking garage swam into focus around him, lit by the erratic pulse of car alarms and the dying flicker of emergency lights. For a moment he simply lay there, staring up at the concrete ceiling, unable to immediately account for where he was or why everything hurt.Then it came back. The elevator door. The cord. The fragmentation grenade dropping from the frame.He shoved the weight off his chest and sat up.The guard who had covered him was lying face-down across his legs, the man's entire back a ruin of shrapnel wounds, uniform shredded, blood pooled dark and wide beneath him. Duke looked at him for a long moment. Without that split-second decision, he would be the one lying there.He pushed himself to his feet, legs unsteady, and patted himself down with shaking hands. Some surface cuts. A ringing head.