“Where’s Barbara?” he asked, muscles in his arms bulging as he carried two heavy boxes.
Sami swallowed and shook her head, pointing to the small blanketed form in the front of the truck bed.
Raze paused, his jaw ticking. His hands clenched. “Ah, shit.”
Sami nodded, her chest aching like she’d been punched.
Raze’s jaw hardened. “Rest in peace, sweetheart.”
Tears pricked Sami’s eyes again.
“Fall apart later, Sam. Mission now.” He pointed to a bunch of crates. “Everything. Get it all.”
The guy was right. Deal now, feel later. She bent her knees to grab a crate of what looked like C4. Maybe. She’d only seen the stuff on television. The box was heavy, and her back ached, but she hustled to the back of the truck and shoved it in, careful not to disturb Barbara’s body.
“Where’s Justice?” Raze asked over the gunfire.
“Out cold.” Sami turned back for another crate.
A bullet impacted the shack above her head, and Raze knocked her inside with his shoulder. She stumbled and regained her balance, half hunched over.
“Stay in here and hand me boxes,” he ordered, lifting two crates and heading back outside.
“No.” She lifted a crate, and the top fell off. Her breath stopped cold. Grenades. She was holding a huge box of grenades, people were shooting at her, and there was a fire roaring out of control. Smoke filled the air.
Raze returned and caught sight of the grenades. “Perfect.” He took the box and disappeared.
“If they hit the truck, everything will blow,” Sami yelled, reaching for a stack of semiautomatic weapons.
“Yep.” Raze returned, wiping blood off his forehead.
“Were you hit?” she asked, reaching for him.
“Scraped.” Raze pivoted and put his body between her and the door. “I said to grab boxes.”
“I don’t work for you.” If he was going to put himself in danger, so was she. Worse yet, Tace was defenseless in the front of the cab, and Barbara’s body lay in the back. The woman deserved a burial.
Bullets sprayed through the right side of the shack, and Sami tackled Raze to the ground.
“Defend to the west,” Raze bellowed, jumping up and in front of Sami.
More gunfire echoed, and somebody screamed in pain.
“Hurry,” Sami said, scrambling to her feet. Her ears rang, and her head ached. Smoke was messing with her equilibrium, or maybe that was adrenaline.
Jax crashed through the door with two guys on him.
Sami leaped up and kicked one in the chin, throwing him back outside. She followed, going into training mode, using her feet to stop his advances, her father’s lessons in her head. The guy was of medium build with angry blue eyes. His knife flashed, and she pivoted, bending his hand back until he dropped it.
She threw an elbow into his gut, went up into his chin, and punched him dead center in the temple. He fell hard.
“Nice,” Raze said, throwing the second unconscious guy toward the lake. The man landed, rolled, bounced, and then smashed into a narrow pine tree.
“My dad was the best,” she said, more than thankful for her odd upbringing.
“Wish I could’ve met him,” Jax said, hauling three more crates outside.
“Sami.” Raze bent at the waist to lift two long crates. “Grab the other end.”
