His eyes widened. “What the?—?”
I didn’t give him time to finish.
I lunged for him.
He grabbed for his comm, but he was too slow.
I slammed the bolt into his thigh. He howled, buckling instantly. I kicked him hard in the side, grabbing his wrist and slamming it into the crate’s edge until the radio clattered to the ground. His head hit metal a second later.
Then there was silence.
My chest heaved.
I looked down at the bolt, now slick with blood.
One man down.
An unknown number more to go.
I snatched the radio from the floor, pulled the earpiece free from his ear, and ducked behind a stack of containers. I pressed the comm to my ear, heart thudding.
Voices crackled through.
“Unit six, status check.”
Then nothing. Oops. I guess I took down unit six.
I swallowed hard.
No time to wait for rescue.
I had to move now.
CHAPTER 27
Kara
The cargo hold stretched around me like a steel graveyard. Crates stacked four high, chained pallets swinging lazily with the ship’s early sway.
I crouched behind a wide container stamped with Cyrillic markings, listening for footsteps. The guard I’d taken down was still unconscious. I’d dragged him into the shadows, but his absence wouldn’t stay under the radar for much longer. I had minutes, maybe less, before someone found the body and started asking questions. The bolt I’d used was still slick in my hand, but I needed a better weapon. Something that wouldn’t snap in two the next time I shoved it into someone’s femoral artery.
I was just about to search the guard for weapons when a voice echoed from deeper in the hold. A guard, an older man with a radio clipped to his vest, moved through the corridor of crates. He hadn’t seen me yet.
I pressed my back against the crate, my breathing shallow. The earpiece I’d yanked from the first guard crackled again in my ear.
“Unit six is down. Crate 417 breached. Possible extraction attempt. Lock it down.”
Shit.
I crept forward, bare feet silent against the chilled steel. The bolt was still in my grip, held low. I rounded a corner and spotted another guard.
He was younger than the first. Twitchy. Nervous. His eyes scanned the shadows as he moved toward the breached crate, rifle slung low and swinging.
I had to act immediately, so I surged forward, fast and low.
He turned, just in time to see the blur of me. He started to raise the rifle.
I jammed the bolt into his wrist.
