Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
A set of soft thumps rang out, like a ball bouncing across the carpet into the bedroom.
The bathroom door saved us from the stunning effects of the flash bang. Even behind closed eyes, I could see the strobe-like flash and jumped at its powerful concussion. The handle to the bathroom jiggled as someone tried to enter and found it locked.
Everything moved too quickly, and I had to fight for each breath.
The lock shattered and flew across the room, bits of twisted metal scattering onto the tile. The door swung open. Jason rolled on his back, flattening me painfully beneath him to give me maximum protective coverage. The man who entered was in tactical gear, including a headlight that cast an eerie glow across the opaque shower curtain. A hand reached out to draw it back, but Jason didn’t give him a chance.
He aimed below the headlight and fired once. The man fell, pulling the curtain down with him, his blood splattering the mirror.
I could hear two more of them in the bedroom.
“She’s in there,” one of them said.
“Let’s give her an invitation to come out,” the other replied.
The ping of metal on tile was followed by the sound of a can rolling toward the tub.
“Ears!” Jason yelled, but I wasn’t quick enough to respond.
Going from the dark to the flash was like suddenly being inside the sun. And the noise . . . there was no way to describe it. Pain seared into my brain, making me wince in agony.
As soon as it was over, I was sure someone had wedged an entire bag of padding wool in my ears. I blinked, unable to really see, and—
Fresh panic seized me when I realized Jason’s weight was gone. There were vibrations of gunfire as chunks of tile and drywall rained down, filling the tub, and I heard a woman screaming in the distance.
Wait, no. Those screams were in my own voice.
A pair of hands hauled me up by the shoulders of my vest—hands that were decidedly not Jason’s. I kicked, connecting with the man’s stomach, and sent him flying back into the counter. I tried to run, but the floor was slippery with blood.
I fell hard, halfway through the doorway.
Shapes and colors returned. The room was dim, but light from outside streamed in through the destroyed door. In my blurriness, I could see two men. The smaller of the two I didn’t recognize, and he seemed to lack the strength and speed of the man he was wrestling with.
Jason pummeled the smaller man with such force, I half expected the guy’s face to cave in.
A hand latched down on my hair and drew my head back painfully, only to drive it forcefully into the carpet. Everything went red, and I tasted blood in my mouth as I bit down on my tongue.
“Get up, bitch,” my attacker barked, releasing his hold on my hair and replacing it with the barrel of his gun.
I wasn’t even given time to obey. The man flipped me onto my back and yanked me up by the arm, drawing a pained cry from my throat. His face was lopsided and full of rage, and it made me struggle harder. But I couldn’t get my feet under me as he dragged me toward the broken door.
“No, no!” I fought against the vise-like hand locked on my arm. “Jason!”
There was another set of hands on me then. It made it so much easier for the men to pull me along. Jason must have been too focused on what he was doing to hear me. He reared back, and then his fist connected with the man’s jaw in a stomach-turning crunch that announced it had been broken, at least somewhere.
“Jason!”
He spun to see the two men dragging me away, blood trailing from my mouth while screaming his name. He launched forward, his back turned on the man he’d just fought—who he hadn’t realized was only down and not out. The wounded man scrambled to the far wall to retrieve his gun and fumbled to raise it.
No, I opened my mouth to scream, but I wasn’t fast enough.
The man fired.
The impact of the bullet kicked Jason’s body forward, so I only got a glimpse of his pain-filled eyes before he fell face-first to the carpet . . .
Where he lay unmoving.
As if the vest had done nothing and he was dead.
It was the last thing I saw as the men yanked me through the broken door and into the dimly lit corridor.
18
LAUREL
It was a war zone. Another man was acting as a sentry by the remains of my room. At least one marshal was still alive and exchanging shots with them in short bursts, but that stopped when it became apparent I’d been taken and might be caught in the crossfire.
The team of men dragged me, kicking and fighting, to the far end of the corridor with skilled efficiency, like I was nothing more than a toddler throwing a tantrum. My bloodstained feet picked up every grain of dirt on the metal stairs as we descended to the ground floor.