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Then the second.

I counted the vehicles as we moved, because apparently my brain had decided numbers were preferable to thinking about how many armed men were trying to kill one another around us.

Three.

Four.

We were almost to the fifth when Lachlan caught my shoulder.

“Stay.”

A man stepped out from behind the truck.

His attention landed on Lachlan.

Confusion lasted less than a second, then recognition hit.

His rifle started to come up, but Lachlan fired first.

The man dropped beside the rear tire.

Everything changed.

Someone shouted from across the yard, and another voice answered.

Then bullets started hitting the concrete.

“Move,” Lachlan ordered.

Lachlan caught my hand as we broke from cover, keeping me beside him as we ran.

His limp was gone. Or maybe he was just good at ignoring pain.

Rafael fired toward a man near the utility building while Lachlan surged ahead of me with his pistol low in one hand.

We cleared the last truck.

The pallet of crates suddenly looked a hell of a lot farther away than it had from the door.

A bullet struck the concrete off to my right.

Another chipped the pavement behind my boot.

I ran harder.

Lachlan reached the crates first and turned.

His hand caught the back of my backpack and hauled me the final step behind the pallet just as another shot cracked past us.

I dropped into a crouch beside him.

“Stay down.”

“I know.”

“Aye, I’m learning that.”

Rafael slid in behind the crates beside us, breathing hard but still holding his gun at the ready.