Page 171 of Reckless

Static hits the guard from the side before the barrel can come level, driving him sideways through a row of folding chairs. Metal screams across the concrete as both men disappear in a tangle of limbs, the pistol flying free and skidding beneath the table.

The second guard reacts exactly the way he’s been trained to.

Protect the boss.

His hand dives inside his jacket, dragging another weapon free just as Koa launches across the space between them. They collide hard enough to shake the table, Calloway stumbling backward as Koa’s shoulder buries itself in the man’s ribs.

A shot cracks through the warehouse.

Concrete erupts a foot from Bear, chips spraying across his boots as everyone moves at once. “Get him!”

Nitro catches Calloway by the front of his jacket before the senator gets two steps, hauling him backward so violently the expensive suit tears clean down one side. “You ain’t going nowhere.”

Calloway swings an elbow, catching Nitro high in the cheek.

Wrong decision.

Nitro smiles. “That all you got?”

Behind them, Koa and the guard crash into a steel support beam with a deafening clang. The weapon slips loose for half a second.

But half a second is all the bastard needs.

He lunges.

I beat him there.

My boot pins the pistol to the concrete just as his fingers brush the grip. He looks up, and I shake my head. “Bad choice, asshole.” He comes off the floor anyway, driving into me with enough force to shove us both sideways. We slam into the edge of the table, paperwork scattering across the concrete as he throws a wild punch toward my head.

I duck underneath it, and my elbow folds into his ribs.

Once.

Twice.

The air leaves him in a harsh grunt, but he keeps coming.

Stubborn bastard.

I catch his wrist, twist until I feel his balance disappear, then use his own momentum to drive him face-first onto the concrete. His forehead bounces, and the fight goes out of him. Zip ties are already in my hand before he thinks about trying again, and I tie his hands up behind his back while his forehead bleeds all over the concrete.

Across the room, Static finally wins his own fight, wrenching the first guard’s arm behind his back while Slate strolls over, picks up the loose pistol, drops the magazine into one hand and the round from the chamber into the other.

He tosses both onto the table. “Think you dropped somethin’.”

The guard growls.

Slate grins. “You’re havin’ a rough day.”

Silence rolls back into the warehouse one breath at a time.

Nitro dusts off the front of his cut like he hasn’t just rag-dolled a United States senator. Bear kicks the second pistol across the concrete until it stops beside my boot. Koa hauls the guard upright by the back of his jacket and marches him into the nearest support beam before I finish locking the zip ties around his wrists.

Calloway stands in the middle of the warehouse, breathing harder than he was thirty seconds ago, his jacket hanging open, one sleeve torn, his security detail zip-tied against opposite support beams.

His gaze sweeps the room, searching for an opening.

There isn’t one.