Holy fucking fuck.He was absolutely dead, his neck at an odd angle, while the gun he'd been holding clattered across the ground. The gun disappeared as a familiar hand wrapped around it, and then there were two barely audible shots as Dylan fired.
"Come on, Brooke," he hissed, face appearing next to dead guy one. "Let's get out of here."
I had to hold my breath as I slid past all the bodies, worried I might throw up on them, and seriously, nobody had time for that.Come on weak stomach. Sort your shit out.
As I stood, Dylan wrapped an arm around me, half hauling me across the room and toward the door. Before we reached it, more of the black-clad men burst through. Or I was guessing male due to general size and build, but who knew for sure.
Dylan didn't hesitate, shooting them, one by one. They were armed as well, but none of them moved with the speed of the guy holding me. Even without the gun, he was a fucking weapon.
When his bullets were out, he dropped the pistol and, in two quick steps, used his hands to take out more of the men, dropping bodies like this was some kind of computer game.
If this weren't the sort of life or death situation that had terror tearing through me until I was about to piss myself, I'd have been a tiny bit turned on by his badassery. He was impressive.
"Brooke, move," Dylan snapped, and I did, trying my best to ignore the bodies I tripped over.Just pretend they’re piles of clothing.
We got out the door this time, and even though Dylan had to have taken out ten or more men, at least that many, if not more, waited for us on the other side. Dylan went straight to work, and I tried to back up. But one of them had been waiting just beside the open door, hidden in a small alcove.
His arms wrapped painfully around my body as he hauled me against his chest, lifting my feet off the floor. "Got you, bitch," he said, sounding gleeful as he yanked me around, smashing my arm against the doorframe. "You're going to regret stealing from us. Now where the fuck is the blueprint?"
Blueprint? Was... this Delta? I mean, surely Dylan would have had a head's up, and Delta didn't seem the type to send a massive squad of trained mercenaries in through the night to attack one of their own CEO’s.
Was there another player on the board? Was this who Blake had been planning on selling the plans to before he got caught by Delta? He’d probably already taken their money, and unsurprisingly, they were pissed, ready to break shit to get what they wanted back.
Shit like me.
"You have the wrong person," I choked out, struggling against his hold as he walked along the hall with me. I heard Dylan curse as he fought harder than ever, but with half a dozen or more agents still around him, there was no way he'd get to me in time.
Which left me to save myself. Drawing on whatever strength I'd learned from Ruth in the short time I’d known her, I focused on the surroundings, trying to formulate a plan.
"I didn't steal anything," I added. "It was Blake. He has your plans, and you idiots have fallen for his false stories."
My captor laughed, a low rasp that told me this dude was probably a heavy smoker or drinker. "Not likely, love. Your brother folded like a house of cards; it just took a little torture and he was spilling the entire story. He stashed it on you then sent you right into the Delta lair thinking you’d be hidden off the grid. Now we have to get it back, or our bosses will murder our asses. It's nothing personal."
My fucking piece of shit brother. If he were here right now, I'd be trying to murder his ass. I’d do jail time for that piece of shit, no worries. "Then it’ll be in my bag or something. Just let me go and I’ll get it for you.”
I was almost positive it wasn’t. I’d emptied that bag before repacking it to leave camp and there hadn’t been any stolen files stashed there. But maybe I could at least distract them long enough to either escape or get back to Dylan.
He grunted. "We checked all of your belongings, and that leaves one option," Raspy Voice said. "It's on you somewhere. Maybe even imbedded under your skin. Which means one of us is going to do averythorough examination of your person." His lips brushed against my ear. "I'm hoping it's me."
We were nearing the stairs, and I caught sight of another guy waiting at the top to help this asshole take control of me. If I ended up with them, there would be no chance of escape. Since Raspy Voice was distracted being asleazy motherfucker, he didn't notice what I was doing with my feet. Swinging them out, I hooked my leg into the banister, and using all of my strength, pulled myself out of his grip.
I knew I was going to fall awkwardly, but I managed to roll so I landed flat on my back and not on my stomach. The shock still probably wasn't good for the baby, but I had to hope it was better than the alternative.
Somewhat winded, I managed to drag myself up, coughing and spluttering. The guy was cursing, already coming for me, so I swung my foot again and slammed it into the side of his leg. When his knee buckled, dropping him down, I scrambled away.
"Get that fucking bitch," he called.
Yeah, not happening, asshole.
The other guy dashed from the stairs, but I remembered seeing a second staircase at the back of the house. A small one down to a laundry room or something. Maybe I could get there before he caught me…
Even though it was darker here, I remembered the way pretty well from the tour last night, and when I rounded the corner, the guy on my ass, I could have sobbed at the lack of tall, shadowy figures trying to block my path.
Yes. Thank fuck.
My feet had never moved so fast as I sprinted, determined to get to a phone and call 911, but just as I started down the top step, I tripped over an obstacle I hadn't noticed on the floor. Arms flailing, I fell hard in the dark, something heavy going down with me.
When I landed in a painful heap on the floor at the bottom, whatever I’d tripped over slammed into my side, and I tried to gasp in some air. I was winded, my side aching, and the real fear that I’d fallen too hard on my stomach had panic detonating in my system.
