Adrenaline had to be what was keeping Wagner on his feet. The syringe had been pretty full when I jabbed him and even though much of it didn’t make it into him, there had to have been enough to knock him out for a long while.
“What the fuck, Wagner?”
Stu opened the door and strode through with his iron grip on my arm. Wagner fell to the floor behind us just inside the door. I stumbled forward and Stu kept me from falling. My heart rate pounded in my chest and my legs were trembling. After getting thirty feet inside, the door burst open behind us.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw two men charge in. They wore black gear, vests, and wielded assault rifles. More were behind them, including Trace, who held a pistol in his hands.
I had never been so glad to see anyone in my life. As soon as the elation hit, Stu jerked my arm hard and pulled me to the right. He pulled a gun from inside his suit and without aiming, fired two shots towards the door. Wagner drew a gun as well and aimed it with a shaky hand at the men at the door.
Stu pulled me between two sets of warehouse shelves, which had pallets of water on them, providing some cover. He fired off three shots behind us. He immediately dashed to the left down another aisle leading back towards the offices.
“Drop the gun, Wagner,” shouted Trace.
“I didn’t…”
Shots rang out. A lot of them, as my brute of a captor, drug me through the warehouse. My legs faltered, and I fell. He hauled me back to my feet, and we ran again. Two more quick shots sounded before he turned to the right at another intersection of shelves. He immediately turned left again, heading towards the back of the warehouse.
Instinct kept my legs pumping, but the more we ran, the more my brain kept telling me not to run. I fell. Again. On purpose this time. I struggled to pull my arm from Stu’s firm hold.
When he tried to pull me up, I struggled by pulling away from him. It only helped for a second and soon he had me on my feet and he pulled me behind him as he ran for his escape.
I could hear footsteps behind us. Beside us. When I glanced to my left, two men had caught up, and I easily saw them through the empty shelves. Soon they raced ahead down their aisle.
“Stop, Stu. There’s no use running.” Trace yelled.
When the two soldiers appeared in front of us now at the next intersection of shelves, rifles aimed at Stu, he stopped. He pulled me into his body and put his gun to my head. The hot metal against my neck frightened me more, and I froze. My head pounded and my stomach churned. Stu had to be holding me up because I didn’t think my legs could do it.
Turning to put me between those following us and him, he growled at them.
“Put the guns down, Trace. All of you. Or I put a bullet through her neck.”
He shuffled his feet, pulling me with him so that I was now between him and the two armed men in the path to the offices. Then he turned back again, facing Trace. Three other men stood in the aisle spread out around Dirk’s driver. I noticed another man in the aisle to our right. They had Stu surrounded.
My ears buzzed from the shots fired. Memories of a gun, probably this gun, pressed to my temple returned, making me nauseous and dizzy. The pressure of Stu’s forearm on my chest pushed the oxygen from my longs. Everything was moving too fast.
“Drop the gun and maybe you make it out of here alive.”
“Fuck that, Trace. You drop your guns. It would be a shame to lose your boss and his woman on the same day.”
He brandished the gun at those that surrounded him, then put it back at my neck. While I seemed to tremble everywhere, he seemed to be in full control. His hand did not shake. He planted the barrel of his gun firmly on my neck. The hot barrel burned my flesh.
“Shoot him, Trace. Dirk’s dead. I don’t care what you have to do to take this son of a bitch out.”
Stu jerked the arm wrapped around my body and squeezed me into his chest. The barrel of his gun pressed even harder into my neck.
“Shut up, Doc. I don’t need you agitating the situation.” His voice was steady.
“Stu. The odds of you getting away are slim to none.” Trace stood about fifteen feet away, handgun raised and pointed at us. At Stu. “Everyone else. Hold your fire. Only fire if I do, and only if you have a clean shot. I don’t want a bullet ripping through him and hitting Miss Davenport.”
Each of the other men—wearing kevlar vests with Baxter Securities printed on them—stood fifteen to thirty feet away with assault rifles pointed at us. There was no way they could all open fire and not hit me. It was their best chance of taking Stu out and stopping him, though.
“You can’t kill him, Trace. He is probably the only one who knows what Scarlet…”
Stu covered my mouth and pulled my head against his chest, trying to keep me from talking. He was strong. I felt like he was crushing my neck. The pain from the hot barrel made it hard to think.
I had to think clearly. A new memory came to me. Dirk’s self-defense instructions slipped into my mind at that moment, and with nothing to lose, I unleashed myself on my captor.
I swung an elbow to his ribs. My foot came up and slammed down on the top of his foot.
