Take (Deliver 5)
On the far side, Arturo hoisted one of the rolling garage doors, letting in a flood of morning light.
The distraction allowed Tiago to fire off another kill shot. But more men flooded in, through the open door and from the other side of the garage.
Her heart pounded so hard it made her lightheaded. She felt helpless, useless, her hand clutching her throat as she watched without breath.
Arturo volleyed bullets from the shadows, taking down the men Tiago missed. But there were too many.
They were outnumbered.
Bullets pinged off steel casings and pelleted beautiful cars. Glass shattered. Dying groans sounded from fallen bodies.
Arturo let out an enraged shout, dropping beneath a flurry of fists and losing his gun. A moment later, he found his feet and launched into a bloody brawl with multiple men, punching and choking and spitting blood.
She searched the space around her and spotted a tire iron. Dropping to hands and knees, she crawled to it, curled her fingers around the cold metal, and waited with her heart in her stomach.
Tiago must’ve run out of ammo, because he chucked his last gun and reached back to free the machete from his backpack.
In a blur of incredible speed and strength, he ran through the half a dozen attackers, taking down the ones with guns.
The din of bullets fell silent, replaced by the panting grunts of hand-to-hand combat.
She trained her eyes on the open garage door and spotted a clear path.
Gripping the dangling handcuff against the tire iron so it wouldn’t rattle, she drew in a deep breath and ran.
The shadows along the back wall concealed her escape. No one noticed her. Those who were still alive were fighting to stay that way.
Twenty feet from the exit, Arturo bent over a man, pummeling his fists, over and over. Farther away, Tiago took on three others, slashing the machete with the skill of a professional assassin.
She reached the exit and peered outside.
Bodies scattered the parking lot. The gunfight had moved down the street, and the number of shooters seemed to have been drastically reduced.
Buildings lined the narrow roads. Plenty of places to hide and provide cover as she fled this nightmare.
This was it.
She could make a run for it and find a way to contact Matias.
Her hand slicked around the tire iron as she stepped into the parking lot and tasted the bright light of freedom.
Another step and the space between her shoulder blades itched.
He had come all this way for her. Protected her. Shielded her with his body. And she was bailing on him?
Her chest squeezed, and her throat closed.
Fuck!
She couldn’t leave. Not without looking back. Not without seeing him one more time.Twisting her neck, Kate scanned the garage behind her. As she honed in on the powerful body laid out on the floor, a sudden coldness hit her core.
She’d expected Tiago to be the only one standing, not face down in blood with a man pounding fist after fist into his ribs.
Her hand squeezed around the tire iron, clanking the handcuffs.
She needed to leave.
Right now.
Tiago stretched an arm toward the machete, but it lay too far out of reach.
Her shoes turned into blocks of cement.
Fucking goddammit!
Across the garage, Arturo wrestled another man in and out of a choke hold. The rest were dead or too injured to move.
Tiago continued to lie there as that fucker pounded fists into his back and ribs. He just took it, his legs twitching as he absorbed every strike.
Her heart cried out, and her molars slammed together, grinding hard enough to break enamel.
Before her brain caught up, her legs were moving, carrying her toward him as fast as she could run.
She was neither stealthy nor strong. But she was quick, approaching the man’s back and smacking the tire iron into his head before he knew what hit him.
He toppled over, and she continued to swing, slamming the metal rod into his skull, again and again. She didn’t stop hitting until strong arms banded around her, yanking her back, pulling her away.
The weapon fell from her hands, and she turned, stunned so completely she felt as though she were floating outside of her body.
Lifting her head, she stared into Tiago’s impossibly gorgeous eyes and swayed. Or maybe the room was swaying.
No, it was him.
She grabbed his leather-clad arms and steadied him. “Are you okay?”
“I am now.” He tiptoed ice-cold fingers along her jaw, leaned in, and stopped before their lips made contact. “Got a lot to say and do to you, but we need to go.”
A scream sounded from an office-like room in the front of the garage. A woman’s scream.
His face tightened, and he bent down to snatch the machete from the floor.
On the other side of the room, Arturo snapped up his head, where he stepped through piles of carnage, stabbing anyone who still lived.