Page 89 of Rescued

The door blew off its hinges with the force of the explosion, and she could hear the stairway collapsing as she scrambled to her feet and ran away.

The hallway was empty, though she could smell smoke and hear the sounds of battle in both directions.

Following the exit signs, she headed for her escape.

She almost made it.

Breanna rounded a corner to see a hallway scarred by explosives and gunfire, with flames still licking some of the debris on the floor.

Between her and the exit stood Kimberly, holding a gun in one hand and the envelope of bearer bonds in the other. “That’s far enough,” she said. “I want the passwords.”

“So you really weren’t going to share the money with me after all.”

Kimberly said, “I might have. I don’t know. Maybe I still would.”

Right. Sure. Breanna said, “The passwords won’t do you any good.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because the bonds are fake. I have the real ones at home.”

Kimberly laughed. “Nice try, Breanna. But you really think I’m going to believe a ridiculous story like that?”

“Okay, well. I tried.”

Kimberly cocked the weapon. “Tell. Me. The passwords. Or I’ll shoot your fucking kneecap and make you tell.”

Breanna told her the passwords.

“Good girl.” Kimberly’s finger tightened on the trigger.

From the cross corridor, a huge form in army fatigues ran out at full speed and flung itself on Kimberly, knocking her to the ground. The gun skittered across the floor, and the envelope fell into one of the fires.

Sanchez.

He punched Kimberly in the face and stunned her. Guess it was good that he hated women. At least that meant he didn’t mind hitting one.

He stood up, scooped up Kimberly’s gun, and gave Breanna that famous feral grin. “Come on, cookie babe,” he said. “We need to get the fuck out of here.”

Then he caught sight of the burning envelope. “Shit,” he said. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Yep,” Breanna said. “Let them burn.” She stepped over the fire and gave Sanchez a hug, totally freaking him out. “Thanks for coming.”

“De nada. But I want a shitload of cookies.”

“Done.”

Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as it sounded. When they got to the exit, Quentin’s remaining team members had converged on the courtyard at the front of the building, defending against the strike team and inadvertently blocking their escape.

“What about the back?” Breanna said.

Sanchez shook his head. “The whole back of the building is a factory, and it’s on fire. Meth and ammo stockpiles and Boomer’s brother with C-4 are a really bad combination.”

As if to illustrate his words, there was a muffled explosion, and cracks appeared in the wall of the building.

“We have to get out of here,” Sanchez said uneasily. He got on the radio. “This is Hound One. I have Cookie Monster. Southeast exit. We need some cover.”

“Thirty seconds,” came a staticky voice.