Chapter 2

Without looking back, he gestured for Finch to follow him. Noise was inevitable, but he kept it to a minimum by stepping lightly through and around the worst of the trash. He strained to pick up other sounds from the bowels of the building, anything at all he could use. A creak. A thud. A door slamming would be perfect.

In the wide hall, he stopped and tilted his head in the direction of the window he’d seen shut earlier. A low bass throbbed through the floor, vibrating into the soles of his feet. It was faint, but unmistakable, and he glanced back to see if Finch had noticed it.

Finch met his eyes and jerked his chin downward, toward the distant music. At Duke’s nod, he stepped past and led the way toward the stairs at the end of the corridor, surprisingly quiet in the booming silence.

The dust stirred around their ankles, rising high enough to aggravate their sinuses. Duke held his breath to keep from sneezing, but Finch had either forgotten his training or had less lung capacity. He sneezed as soon as he pushed open the door to the stairwell, automatically letting the door go to cover his nose. Duke caught it before it could slam into place again, and frowned at Finch’s devastated flush.

“You better hope nobody’s on the stairs,” he whispered, barely moving his lips.

Finch swallowed and nodded. Duke held the door open until he’d passed by again and started the descent to the second floor. Maybe Finch hadn’t been the best choice to accompany him. He made a mental note to review their files again once the assignment was over.

Finch got lucky. The deserted stairwell emptied onto what appeared to be an even more deserted second floor, in spite of the music beckoning them closer. None of the overhead lights were on, casting the chasm in shadows that made it harder to see beyond, and rats skittered softly behind the walls. Duke let Finch remain several paces ahead, controlling their speed and direction even when Duke’s every instinct told him not to relinquish the lead. He had no choice in this instance. He had done everything he could.

A ringing cell phone muffled from a nearby room. Both men came to a halt.

Seconds ticked by. The phone was cut off by the second ring, but the damage had been done. Finch crept forward first, edging closer to the door, beads of sweat on his brow. They might have been from the stifling heat or his nerves about the situation, but Duke didn’t care. He was too focused on forcibly tightening his grip on his weapon to refrain from stopping Finch from going in. He was back-up. This was Finch’s operation.

He definitely needed to double-check those files.

Except Finch didn’t make the rookie mistake. He stayed out of the door’s way and pressed an ear as close to the hinges as he could get, his pale eyes narrow slits as he listened to what was going on inside. Duke couldn’t hear anything, but he was certain Finch did. The second the knob started to turn, Finch slammed his shoulder into the door.

Shouts erupted from the room. Finch ducked and dove through the narrow entrance. Truong and Rucker exploded from another doorway farther down the hall, racing to cover their teammate. They were smart enough not to waste a second glance at Duke as they followed Finch inside, though the thud that reverberated through the wall didn’t bode well for the one of the pair who’d likely just been jumped.

Duke waited. Someone would try making a break for it. Someone alwaysmade a break for it.

He wasn’t surprised when a familiar blond burst from the room. Duke grabbed his shoulder and slammed him face-first into the opposite wall, pinning him there like a bug on a board as he pressed the muzzle of his Sig P226 to the back of the blond’s head.

“You’re dead, Metcalf.”

Metcalf jerked against his hold, eyes sliding sideways as far as they could go to see Duke watching him. “Goddammit!” His face screwed up into a furious scowl, and his meaty fist punched into the wall.

Duke shook his head. “Yes, because hitting the nearest immovable object is so productive.” He held Metcalf for a few seconds longer to prove his point, then holstered the weapon. Instead of pulling back, though, he dipped his hand into the larger man’s coat pocket and pulled out the cell phone he’d known he would find there.

“I thought it was on vibrate!” Metcalf protested.

“Which doesn’t actually make me feel any better about seeing you armed on the streets.” Duke dropped it back into his pocket and let him go. The other young cadets filled the doorway and hall behind them, waiting in pensive silence for whatever he would say next. “Needless to say, Finch’s team won this particular exercise. Never leave your rear open like that. You never know when someone might be off taking a piss when you bust in.”

“But the door was shut,” someone complained from the back.