“Grenade,” yelled Hardy, while wrapping his left arm around Dahlia’s waist and spinning toward an open doorway to the right. They landed inside a room and rolled as one, his belly pressed tightly her back. They came to rest five feet from the door, their intertwined limbs made them look like a giant eight-legged bug. Hardy covered her head with his hands and buried his face between her neck and shoulder. His nostrils filled with the sweet scent of whatever shampoo, soap or body wash she had used, while his mind wondered if that would be the last thing he smelled in this world.
The blast was deafening. The room’s windows blew inward. Shards of glass rained down on Hardy and Dahlia. He felt the pressure from the shockwave on his back. Stunned, Hardy opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to equalize the pressure in his head, while he rolled off Dahlia. He looked at her. She was on all fours. Her mouth was moving, but he could not hear a thing. He helped her to her feet, and they both gradually regained their senses.
Shaking her head back and forth, Dahlia put her left hand to her forehead. “Now, I’m back to owing you one, again.” She shook her head and blinked her eyes.
Hardy covered his ears. “We’ve got to get through that door.”
Charity: “Hardy, are you okay?” Panic was evident in her tone. “Hardy, are you there?”
The ringing in his ears made it difficult to hear. “We’re fine, Charity.” His voice was hoarse. He coughed. Dust and debris filled his lungs. “We’re at the door, but taking fire.”
“The chopper is on site. They’re waiting for you.”
“Copy that,” said Hardy. He acknowledged Dahlia. “This is what we’re—”
Dahlia had her hand out, palm up. “Give me the rifle.” When he did not comply, she held up the Walther. “If you want to get out of here, you’re going to have to give me that rifle. I’ll cover you from here. You get to the door and get it open. I’ll be right behind you.” Losing her patience, she grabbed the rifle and put the butt of the Walther in his hand. “Get ready to move.” She raised the MP5 and fired two three-round bursts from the window opening.
Hardy stood alongside her and held up the last MP5 magazine before slipping it into her left thigh boot.
Feeling the cold magazine against her bare leg, she stopped shooting. “It seems you’ve had some practice doing that.” She winked. “Now, get ready to run.” She sent a volley of rounds down the stairwell, raised the muzzle of the rifle and yelled, “Go.”
Hardy took off running. At the top of the stairwell, he opened the door and fired several rounds toward the bottom of the stairs, providing cover fire for Dahlia.
Dahlia came out of the room, but instead of meeting him at the door, she moved to the other side of the hallway and pressed her back against the wall. She inserted the last magazine and threw the bolt forward.
“What are you doing?” Hardy jerked his head. “Let’s go.”
“I’ve changed my mind. I’m just not ready to see daddy, yet.”
“What,” said Hardy, his eyebrows furled downward? “What the hell are you talking about? We’ve got to go.”
“You go. I’ll slow them down.”
“That’s suicide. You don’t know what’s waiting for you down there.”
“It’s been nice working with you, Hardy.” She spun on her heels and fired down the stairs.
Hardy started to go after her, but stopped when he heard Charity.
“The chopper can’t hold its position for much longer, Hardy. People are starting to notice. How far out are you?”
“Damn it,” said Hardy. “Dahlia, wait.” She turned back to him. He slid his Walther and a spare magazine across the floor.
Dahlia stuffed them into her boots, gave him a smile and a wink and disappeared from sight, the muffled shots from the MP5 growing more faint.
Hardy’s feet were anchored in place. He should have gone after her. No, he should have never let her leave in the first place. He heard Charity’s voice again in his earpiece. It was the last voice he wanted to hear.
“Hardy—”
“All right, all right, Charity,” he growled, running for the roof. “I’m on my way, all right. Do you hear me?” His voice grew louder with each syllable. “Damn it, I’m on my way.”