Page 70 of Lockout

“Say whatever you want once I walk out of the building,” I told Rip, cutting him off. “Get far enough away that the blast doesn’t catch you.”

Their eyes strayed toward the clock on their way out, as I hit the contact number for Demo.

“Yo. Wasn’t expecting to hear from you so quickly, War. How’d it go?” Demo’s cheerful voice made something inside me settle.

All the patience and calmness I’d learned how to cultivate over the years settled over me. “Demo, it’s Lock.”

There was silence for a minute before he spoke. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m standing on a pressure plate rigged to enough explosives to blow this building apart. And on top of that there’s a timer.”

“Fuck,” he swore. “I’m calling you back on video chat.”

The phone went dead then rang. I answered and was staring at his worried face. “Show me the plate.”

Flipping the camera, I knelt—slowly, or this whole thing would be moot—and pointed the camera at the side of the plate.

“See that green wire there?” he asked, and I leaned a little and spotted the wire he was talking about.

“Yeah?”

“Cut that.”

“You sure?” I asked. “It’s always a blue or red wire in the movies.”

“Fuck the movies, Lock. Cut that so we can go work on the bomb.”

I set the phone on the floor and took my knife out and flicked it open. Sweat slid down my temple as I set the blade against the wire. I was perched on this plate, leaning over enough that if I fell, I was going all the way over and that would set off the bomb. I just hoped like hell my brothers were out of this fucking building. That Keely realized how much I loved her, even though we hadn’t been together for long. That my family knew I had to do this, had to take on this role, because it was what a leader did. Arealleader.

It would be all too easy to command this group from my fucking office and let them take the risks day in and day out. But that wasn’t the kind of man I was. If someone had to die, it was going to be me. Because I wasn’t living in a world without each of my brothers in it. I wasn’t going to comfort their crying widows and children, knowing there was something I could have done to stop their deaths.

If I didn’t make it out of this, I was going to have to find a way to make this right for Keely. I wasn’t sure if haunting a woman in order to grovel for eternity was considered creepy or romantic in a woman’s eyes, but whatever. My Jumper Cables was going to be stuck with me either way.

I put pressure on the little wire and sucked in a breath as the knife slid through it like it was butter. My eyes darted around. “Well, I’m not splattered against the walls,” I announced.

Demo let out a chuckle. The fucker had to have nerves of steel to work with bombs. And other than a faint look of worry, he looked like we were talking on the phone over a beer. “Show me that bomb.”

I faced the camera toward the C4 as I stepped off the plate.

He let out a low whistle. “Hate to break it to you, Lock, but you wouldn’t be splattered on the walls, cause the walls would be decimated.”

“Good to know,” I muttered. “Do I disarm this thing, or get the fuck out of here?”

“Get the fuck out,” he said. “There’s not enough time on that clock for me to walk you through what to do.”

“I can’t just cut the wires?” I asked.

“Not on that. It likely has a switch that will flip if you do. Most you could do would be to dig the blasting cap out of that C4, but it’s too risky with the time you have left.”

“All I needed to hear,” I said, carefully picking my way toward the door. Last thing I needed was to hit another pressure plate. “Thanks, Demo.”

“Anytime. Have Warrant call when you’re out. And Lock?”

“Yeah?”

“Move your ass.”

Chuckling as he hung up, I shoved the phone into my pocket and started running. When one of the shadows moved, I skidded to a stop, eyes widening as I jerked to the side, narrowly missing a bullet. “Fuck.”