Up From The Deep Vaughn Jackson (book club suggestions TXT) 📖

the base; he heard the sounds of gunfire and quickened his pace into a frantic run. In his sprint, he almost crashed right into Raymond, who motioned for him to be quiet and pulled him into a nearby room just as several black clad figures hurried by.

“We’re under attack,” Devonte said, breathing heavily.

“It seems Tempest did not take kindly to our assault on their base,” Raymond confirmed. “Where are the others?”

“In the machine room. I told them to hide.”

“And the device?”

Devonte looked down. “It’s fully operational once my code is uploaded.”

Raymond looked at him expectantly. “I see,” he said. “Then let’s stop it from being taken. I’ve already sent word to the general, they will be here as quick as they can. Are you armed?”

Devonte flashed the holster at his belt.

“Good,” Raymond said, “I’m afraid we’ll need it.” He checked outside their room, and seeing nobody, motioned for Devonte to follow.

They stayed close to the walls and ducked down low, moving quickly but quietly. Every time Devonte heard a volley of gunfire, he felt his chest tighten with anxiety. They turned a corner and saw the back of a man in black body armor. Devonte jerked up his gun in response, but Raymond pushed the weapon down. He pulled a knife from a sheath on his boot and crept up behind the man, sliding the blade effortlessly into the exposed space around his neck. The man gurgled, and Raymond twisted the knife, silencing him completely.

Devonte mouthed, “What the fuck?”

“You pick up some things when dealing with the nastier sides of the criminal underworld,” Raymond said with a solemn face. “Let’s go.”

“Not going anywhere,” a deep voice said.

Devonte watched as a nearly seven-foot man rounded the corner. His fists alone looked to be about the size of a person’s head. He had no weapon on him, but his body armor covered every inch of him. No room to stick a knife.

“You come with me,” the man said in his thick Russian accent.

Raymond put himself between Devonte and the man. “And if we refuse?”

“I break you. Then you come with me. In pieces.” The man grinned a slow, malicious smile. “Please resist.”

Devonte sized up the man, determined there was no chance of beating him, tugged on Raymond’s sleeve and said, “Run.”

The man was faster than expected. Before they’d even made it a few steps, he was on them. He caught Devonte first, by the back of the collar, and flung him to the floor. The force of the impact forced all the air out his lungs and left his head ringing. Raymond didn’t stand a chance as he wheeled around to face his pursuer. To his credit, he put up his fists and prepared to fight anyway.

“Down!”

Instinctively, Raymond hit the floor with a slight exhalation of pain just as the rat-a-tat of the assault rifle sounded off from behind him. The towering man stumbled backwards as the hail of bullets pounded into his body armor.

“Wow, you won’t got down easy, huh?” Brannigan emerged from the smoke-filled hallway. “Happy to see me?” He winked at Devonte. “Don’t get up, I got this.” He tossed his gun to the side. “Now that I’ve got your attention, bruiser, how about you pick on somebody your own…eh, you know what, fight me you ugly motherfucker.”

“What are you doing?” Devonte shouted.

“I’m about to kick his ass while you get away,” Brannigan said, dodging a punch that surely would have shattered his skull if it had made contact. “So, get away!” He caught the follow-up punch and used the man’s momentum to knock him off his feet. The heavy thud echoed in the corridor. Devonte didn’t waste any time; he grabbed Raymond and ran around the fallen man, in the direction of the machine room. He heard the man get up with a bellow of rage as he turned the corner and ducked into the machine room.

Chapter 10

Brannigan steadied himself. The other man was certainly faster than he looked. The captain almost regretted throwing away his gun, but the appeal to the other man’s bravado had worked all too well. Every punch the man threw was a haymaker, but his training was obvious in the way he moved with each punch. Brannigan wouldn’t win this in a fair fight. But he did have an ace in the hole.

“So, what’s your name, bruiser?” Parry. Dodge. Counterattack the jaw. Like punching concrete. Uppercut to the solar plexus. Less concrete, more iron. “Please tell me it’s Doug or something.” He said between each heavy breath.

“You face Ivan Cole, dead man,” the man said before landing a solid blow directly in Brannigan’s side.

Brannigan felt like one of his kidneys had popped, and he wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that it actually had. He staggered back and spat blood on the floor. He grinned at the other man through bloody teeth. “Nice shot,” he said. “My turn.”

“Take your best,” Ivan said, returning Brannigan’s grin. He spread his arms wide, taunting and welcoming the next attack.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Brannigan stalked forward, hand clutching his side, until he stood just in front of the man. Please don’t let him change his mind about this. While he pulled back with one hand, he reached into one of his side pouches with the other. He thrust both of his hands forward, and shouted, “Tag, you’re it.”

Ivan laughed and kicked him square in the chest, launching him back down the hallway.

Brannigan clamored to his feet and scrambled away from the now approaching man. He put as much distance as he could between them and hid behind a nearby door ripped off its hinges.

“You run, little man?” Ivan said.

“Yeah, but not from you.” Brannigan motioned for the man to look down. Hooked onto one of the straps of the man’s body armor was Brannigan’s ace. One live grenade, pin not included. “On the bright side, at least you’re going out with a—”

The sound of the grenade set Brannigan’s ears ringing as he was launched backwards