Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
The moment the elevator doors start to open, Mad Dog tosses two grenades through the crack. Smoke hisses from them as soon as they touch the floor, coming out so fast it makes the grenades spin down the hall.
Scared yells and a couple of random shots that hit nothing tell us the grenades are effective. The smoke will clear fast, but it's enough to give us a moment to get the jump on the goons that didn't expect it. Two moments later, we got three down, only one of them dead. We could've done worse.
The whole building rattles with gunshots, cut with screams. There's no way there aren't cops on the way, at least. Given that this is government property, I wouldn't be surprised if we’ve got a fucking battalion of soldier boys coming too. We gotta finish this and get the fuck out.
There’s an improvised barricade blocking the next hallway ahead. We don’t know if Rory’s back there, but they didn’t set up that barricade for nothing. What's actually going on here? We stay in cover until we can control the situation.
Holding up my hand for the others to stay in position, I dare a peek around the corner. “Hey! Fuckers! Whatever they're paying you, it's not worth it. We already got control of the building, and we're fucking armed to the teeth.” There's still shooting going on, so I might be stretching it a little, but it won't be long. These guys might be professionals, but they're acting like rent-a-cops with no real world experience up against a club full of men who are used to getting shot at. “How much is your life worth to you? They really throwing that much green your way?”
A gun goes off, the bullet kicking up plaster off the wall two inches above Bull’s head. “You almost messed up my hair, motherfucker!”
I snort as the halogen lights in the ceiling reflect off his shaved head, but the next shot hits about six inches lower. We probably shouldn't be helping them aim.
“Don't think they're gonna give.” Bull aims his iron around the corner and squeezes off a couple rounds. I listen for a shriek, but nothing.
“Got more of those smoke grenades?” I nudge Mad Dog with my foot.
He grins at me. “Thought you'd never ask.” Unhooking another one from his belt, he pulls the pin and throws it. He's got a hell of an arm. Bouncing off the wall, it knocks into the corner of one of the desks, back into the wall and then drops down behind the barricade. It's already spinning and throwing out smoke by then.
“Nice toss.” Bull gives an appreciative nod.
“Enough bullshitting.” Shrapnel pushes through and runs down the hall, obviously favoring his right leg. “We've got a girl to save.”
Fair enough. Me and Bull are right behind him, with the rest of the gang following. I fire into the barricade, hoping to do some damage before we get there. I can't imagine those desks are bullet proof. When someone screams, it turns out that I'm right.
And then we're there, climbing over it and looking for faces to punch. I don't recognize the first one I see through the smoke, and it gets my fist.
“Down!” Bull shouts, right before swinging a whole fucking desk into one of the goons. It slams the guy into the wall so hard his skull bounces before he drops to the floor like a sack of flour.
Shrapnel catches one of them and yanks him close, jamming the barrel of his gun right inside the goon's mouth. I wince as it snaps off a tooth. “Where the fuck is she.” That voice promises a brutal death to anyone who doesn't answer his question.
The guy can only mumble wide-eyed around the barrel, but he does his best, pointing at a door behind the barricade that's firmly shut. Shrapnel nods briefly, then returns his attention to the guy in front of him. I can almost see the tendons in his arm tighten as he prepares to pull the trigger.
“Shrapnel!” It's like he shakes out of it when Bull yells his name. “Eye on the prize.”
“Fuck.” Shrapnel pulls the gun out and knocks the guy in the side of the head instead. He drops, knocked out, but at least not dead.
“We're not here as a fucking execution squad.” Bull examines the door while Viking, Mad Dog, Piston and Wild Child clean up. “Rory's all that fucking matters. Back up.”
“Careful.” I aim my gun at the door, pulling the trigger one, two, three, four times, knocking splinters out around the lock. “Ok, go.”
Bull charges, followed closely by me and Shrapnel, with our guns up, ready for anything.
35
RORY
The door bursts open in a shower of particle board and splinters, and coming out of the cloud is Bull, his arm up to shield his face and a gun in his free hand. He keeps going, rolling deeper into the room as he gets his bearings and his gun aimed. When he stops, he's on one knee with his barrel pointing right at Leon.