Page 39 of Sweet Deception (Irish Kings #4)

Chapter Thirty-Five

We make it to the Red Hill operations base just before dawn.

Donal came to get us around eleven the evening before, and by the time we’d hashed and rehashed the plan and loaded up into armored vans, it was approaching three in the morning. A two-hour drive from the city to the target location followed.

Rory managed to pinpoint the vicinity of the base—about ninety minutes northwest of Philadelphia, almost in the middle of nowhere. The multi-story industrial building is situated at the edge of what looks like a defunct manufacturing plant.

Most of the property appears dilapidated as we approach from the shadows in our all-but-completely camouflaged vehicles, taking our positions along the perimeter of the factory grounds.

The building Darren and I will infiltrate sits dead ahead.

Usually, I’m pretty good under pressure, but truthfully? I’m more than a little apprehensive about going in there even though I know Darren will be with me. The place is reminiscent of a horror movie set.

The plan is simple.

Based on Rory’s long-range tech imaging, he’s triangulated the most likely location for the server.

Finn and his squadron will create a distraction at the front of the property, drawing Red Hill fire and attention away from the back, while Rory uses his technological skills to hack the electrical systems from out here and create a secondary diversion that’ll cover Darren and me as we hightail it inside.

The property sits on an incline about one thousand feet away from a polluted pond that we can smell from here. Even in the dark, I can tell that thing is a cesspool of rot.

Cian’s in the driver’s seat of our caravan, Rory beside him and furiously typing on a laptop he built himself. Darren and I are hunched by the door, ready to rip it open and run toward the water as soon as we get the signal.

Bisecting that acrimonious pond down there is a small dock.

A large drainage pipe opens up just next to it.

Based on the blueprints of the compound we’ve all studied in these past few hours, that pipe leads straight into the building’s basement.

Considering the stench wafting our way, I can’t say I’m eager to use it.

Once we’re in the basement, we’ll navigate up to the main floor of the building, which appears to be an all-concrete loading dock lit with floodlights and heavily guarded by Red Hill soldiers. I can make out their AK-47s from here.

We’ve given ourselves fifteen minutes to sneak across the loading dock, get to the server, bug it, and get out. Darren’s job is to monitor the exits, set traps in case we need them, and keep me informed about what’s going on while I find the server room, do the deed, and book it out of there.

My pulse roars in my ears as we wait in painful silence.

“You’re insane to volunteer for this.” Darren’s fingers squeeze mine. “You know that, right?”

I glance over at him as a blast shakes the earth beneath us. In the distance, we see fire and smoke rising from the far side of the property.

That would be Finn and his crew with Distraction Number One.

“On my mark,” Rory barks from the front seat.

“Here we go.” Darren gives my hand another big squeeze, the excitement on his face visible even in the darkness.

After more furious typing from the front seat, I hear a series of affirmative beeps.

“Now!”

Darren rips the caravan door open and flies out into the night, yanking me with him. I work to keep up with his long strides, and as we scramble downhill, the momentum carries us toward the pond’s horrible stench and rickety dock.

I slap a hand over my mouth and nose, the acrid scent threatening to unleash my gag reflex. “What do they put in there? Toxic sludge?”

“Try the bodies of everyone they’ve ever taken care of.”

I want Darren to be kidding, but I don’t glimpse even a hint of humor on his face.

Oh, god…

“So this is where I would’ve ended up if you hadn’t saved me the other night.”

Our footsteps thunder onto the dock. A small metal staircase leading to the drainage pipe below materializes on our left, and Darren grasps my arm as we carefully climb down. “Yeah, you and Napalm.”

One wrong move, and we’ll be swimming in body parts soup.

Thankfully, the drainage pipe interior is shockingly clean.

No sign of the sludge. And actually, it even smells kind of normal in here.

It’s big enough that we only have to hunch over a little to fit inside as we hasten through the darkness.

This is an access tunnel for Red Hill, too, then. It has to be.

Darren flips on a miniature flashlight and guides us through the pipe, taking forks and turns without any hesitation.

I’m glad he memorized the map in minute detail because I sure didn’t.

After a few heart-pounding minutes of underground navigation, we come to a cross-hatched drain grate overhead that casts a crisscrossed spotlight on the ground beneath our feet.

Darren and I get directly below it and poke a tiny camera through the metal cage.

The feed pops up on his phone. He examines a three-sixty view of the space above, then thrusts the rusted grate open with one impressive show of upper body strength.

He shoves the grate aside to make room for us. “Coast’s clear. Come on.”

Like he does this all the time—just another day at the office—Darren heaves himself up and through the hole, then reaches both hands back down for me. I clutch his forearms as he lifts me right up.

The basement floor of this building is fit for a supervillain’s lair.

The air is damp and dank and oddly cold, as if a malfunctioning air conditioner has transformed the place into a meat locker.

Creaks and bangs bounce through the echo chamber at random intervals, each one causing my heart to toss in my chest and amplifying my terror that we’ve been discovered.

Gruesome shadows cast by the chained lights hanging overhead stripe the space.

“Let’s take the stairs.” After replacing the drain grate, Darren twines his fingers with mine. We cross the space and shuffle down a hallway and around a corner. At the end of another creepy industrial corridor, we find a heavy-looking door.

Darren pushes it open a crack, peering into the stairwell beyond and listening.

On the floor above us, someone’s barking orders. Feet shuffle about.

They don’t know, specifically, that Darren and I are down here, but it’s clear they believe intruders are on the property. We’ll have to work fast.

Darren pushes the door open enough for me to slip under his arm. Then we hurry up the first flight of steps to the main floor.

Slung around Darren’s waist is a small, lightweight satchel.

He brought “supplies,” as he calls them, which is definitely his term for deadly explosives and other weapons and tools.

He plans to stash a few of those babies around the main floor while I get to the server room and do what needs to be done.

Though our proximity makes me feel so much safer, I’m glad we’re splitting responsibilities.

If he came with me, he’d discover I’ve got a mission of my own. I want to believe that if Darren were in my shoes, he’d do the same. If he had someone he cared deeply about who was in trouble, who no one else would lift a finger to save, he’d swoop in to help, by hook or crook.

I know I’m just attempting to comfort myself, to rationalize my soon-to-be deviant behavior.

When we reach the door that leads out to the main loading dock floor, Darren pauses to review our roles in the plan.

“You know where the server room is?”

“Third door on the left.” I memorized my hallway from the blueprints Rory and Cian managed to retrieve.

“I’m going to get you to the opening of that hall?—”

“I’ll go there while you set traps?—”

“And we’ll meet back at the intersection in six minutes flat.”

I nod, holding up the watch he gave me.

Darren hits the timer button on both his watch and mine to ensure we’re synchronized, and with adrenaline flying through my veins, we slip noiselessly through the door onto the main floor while I pray I don’t make a mistake.

The guards we saw patrolling in here from outside have disappeared.

Darren scans the whole place before we take a single step forward. He grabs my hand, and together, we creep onward.

As soon as we reach the official entry-exit point, Darren rips little pouches from his bag and starts to nestle them into the foundation, grinning all the while. Just in case , he mouths to me.

His wild energy spikes my anxiety. My internal timekeeper screams that we’re moving too slowly, that we’ll be caught any moment.

I peer down the hallway ahead of us. Empty, though I can see hulking shadows moving across the wall at the very end of it, suggesting that Red Hill guards still lurk nearby. I want the passageway between where I’m standing and that far wall.

With Darren still laying traps, I gravitate toward the hall. He glances up at me, eyes wide.

I throw my chin toward the passageway I need, pointing and mouthing, I’ll go ahead .

You sure? he mouths back.

I nod.

Darren doesn’t look okay with it, but I spin on my heel anyway and jog the short stretch of hallway between here and there before turning the corner.

In the dimness, I pass the first door on my right, another, then one on my left, two on my left… Here. Door Number Three.

With the code breaker Rory gave me, I’m through the door’s digital lock in fifteen seconds.

The room is about what I expected. Small and crammed with hardware, cords, and blinking lights.

Once I’m tucked safely inside, I find the central server and remove two wireless backdoor trackers from my pocket. First, I install my tracker to the server and confirm it’s working. Then I install Rory’s tracker and wait for the upload to start.

Next thing I know, Darren’s voice is whispering through my earpiece. “Did you make it inside?” Static from his end. “Nika, someone’s headed your way?—”