A wave of human beings crashed over us.
Fists swung.
Boots smashed.
Bodies flew through the air, leaping toward me and the other five hostages.
I ran towards Sarah even as she walloped a roundhouse kick, kicking the nearest mercenary in the face and making him stumble.
Kylie sidestepped toward Colleen who inexplicably had her hands free, yelling, “Gun in my purse! Gun in my purse!Shoot these fuckers!”
Colleen dipped a hand into Kylie’s brown-patterned bag and came up with a Beretta 92F, which she shoved into the ribs of the nearest mercenary reaching for Sarah and pulled the trigger.
The mercenary bowed sideways and crumpled, holding his ribs.
But Skull Trim already had his handgun out, and he pivoted to point it at Sarah and pulled the trigger, blasting a center-mass shot.
Burning gunpowder peppered my arms still bound behind my back, and I jumped, trying to cover her even though I knew there was no way that I could outrace a bullet.
She stumbled backward like she’d been punched, holding her stomach, and I ran two steps and fell on top of her as she collapsed.
My brain howled, and I knew I was screaming but the world was silent except for the siren wailing in my head.
I love you. You are everything to me. You are my whole world, and I will die on top of you rather than be separated from you.
The memento mori ink in my skin burned like an infinite number of needles were carving every frog skeleton all at once into my flesh, each grind a reminder of the people I’d failed who died because of me.
No, not you, Sarah. Please, God. I trade my life for hers. Send me to Hell, but let her live.
Skull Trim was bringing his weapon around to point at my face where I lay on top of Sarah, rage twisting his features.
A flying body knocked him over like he’d been standing on railroad tracks, and an iron train had taken him out.
My Bully Boys and dozens of veterans I’d counseled over the years swarmed over us, disarming the mercenaries and piling on top of the six of us hostages.
I flipped over, my stupid hands still tied behind my back, and yelled though I could not hear myself. “Sarah?Sarah!”
I was straining against the zip ties around my wrists.
Cold steel touched my skin, and the plastic binds popped.
I wrapped Sarah in my arms, praying, screaming for an ambulance in a voice I could not hear, and then Sarah opened her eyes in my arms and covered her stomach with both hands, scowling.“Ow.”
More people wearing cheap suits poured in from the front doors, yelling,“FBI! Freeze where you are! Hands up!”
The stockbrokers bolted.
The lawyers complied while shouting about their rights.
My veterans continued to fight, making sure every single one of the Russian mercenaries was beaten unconscious, and Logan and Mary Varvara Bell were pinned to the floor.
I held Sarah’s face. “Don’t move. The ambulance will be here soon.”
Sarah pulled her hand away from her stomach, but it was clean.
No blood.
“That felt like I got kicked by a horse.A really big horse.”
