They moved stealthily down the corridor. Sam pressed, almost at a run. When they rounded a bend, he blinked as a distant light source came into view. He held up his hand and motioned silently for his brothers to fan out.
They inched toward the opening, and Sam strained his ears to hear something, anything. As they got closer, the hum of fluorescent light tubes filled the space. Otherwise it was quiet. Too damn quiet.
Sam and Donovan on one side of the tunnel, Garrett and Ethan on the other, the two pairs faced each other, guns up. Sam held up one finger and then two. On three they burst into the opening.
Sam pulled up short at the sight that greeted him. A black Hummer was parked several feet away, and to the side lay Alex Mouton. Or what was left of him.
“Holy fuck,” Donovan breathed. “Someone blew half his head off.”
Garrett cocked an eyebrow. “Our girl?”
Sam looked around and then in the direction the Hummer was pointed, to see another tunnel. “Tomas must have her. If she shot Alex, where is she now?”
Ethan moved in front of the Hummer and stared down at the concrete. “There was another vehicle here. There are tire marks. Looks like whoever left was in a big hurry.”
“Sam, I have a relay from Resnick.”
Sam cupped a hand over his earpiece.
“Go ahead, Steele.”
“Resnick’s in the air. Currently tracking a Hummer driving balls to the wall off road toward Del Rio. Kicking up a dust trail and evidently not too worried about being seen. He thinks he saw Sophie in the passenger seat. He’s going to stay on it.”
Sam’s pulse kicked up. Nervous energy plowed through his veins and made him jittery. He hadn’t felt this kind of adrenaline rush since his first mission.
“Copy that, Steele. We’re on it. Are you and Rio okay?”
“P.J. and Cole are kicking some mercenary ass. We’re laying low and letting them clean up the stragglers. We’re good. Go get your woman.”
Sam looked over at Donovan. “Time to show me your skills, tech guy. Get us the hell in that Hummer.”
Donovan raised a brow, walked around to the driver’s seat, opened the door and stuck his hand in. A second later, the jangle of keys sounded, and Donovan held them up with a smirk.
“Too easy, drill sergeant.”
SOPHIE bounced and pitched forward as they hit another rise. Tomas was single-mindedly focused on the path in front of them, and she watched closely while the gun inched lower as his attention became less focused on her.
She didn’t say anything. Didn’t make a sound even when her head smacked the side of the window. The last thing she wanted was to draw his attention to her. As haphazardly as he was driving, it probably wouldn’t take much for that damn gun to go off, and right now it was still aimed at her.
Where were they going? What could he possibly hope to accomplish? He didn’t have the key. All his “protection” was back at the house, hopefully getting their asses handed to them by Sam and his men.
Which left her with Tomas. A suddenly scary thought given the fact that he’d just manned up for the first time in his life and stood up to his brother. The last thing she needed was for him to be high on adrenaline and confidence.
She glanced nervously at Tomas when he juggled the gun and tried to reach into his pocket, all the while holding his finger way too damn close to the trigger. She was going to die because this idiot was an inept fool.
He swerved, hit a rock, and his hand fell off the wheel. For a moment they careened dangerously to the right. He swore and yanked the wheel back to the left. Miraculously, the vehicle righted, and they continued on their haphazard trek across the rugged terrain.
Tomas yanked a cell phone out of his pocket and thrust it—and the gun—in her direction.
“You call him,” he demanded. “You call him and tell him I want that goddamn key or I’ll kill you and his brat.”
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. An hysterical bubble rose in her throat and escaped through lips that flapped like a fish gasping for air on dry land.
“I don’t know how to contact him, Tomas. I’ve never called him. Shouldn’t you know how to call him? You were holding his mother hostage for God’s sake.”
He swung at her with the stock of the pistol, but she dodged and his hand hit the headrest instead. The Hummer swerved again, and something snapped inside her. Sam wasn’t going to get her out of this. Neither was Garrett or the fourteen jillion other men KGI employed.
If she was going to survive this, if she was going to protect her child, she was going to have to do it herself.
When Tomas started to swing at her again, she reached up and grabbed his wrist with both hands and yanked as hard as she could.
Curses filled the air. The Hummer swerved, and he grasped the wheel desperately with his left hand to keep control. He punched his right hand back, trying to hit her in the face, but she dodged and then sank her teeth into his wrist.
She gagged as the taste of blood filled her mouth. He wrenched away and then swung at her with his left hand. As soon as his hand left the wheel, the Hummer hit a huge bump and the world went crazy around her.
Up became down and down became up. She had the vague sensation that she was in deep shit, and then she closed her eyes and prayed.
Her head cracked against something hard. Pain speared through her hand. And then suddenly everything went still.
Though her head throbbed, she cautiously cracked her eyes open. The Hummer had righted. She looked over at Tomas to see him slumped over the steering wheel. Blood splattered the windshield in front of him and she could see it dripping down the side of his head.
Her hand hurt.
Oh God, she was losing it. Was that all she could come up with? She’d just flipped a gazillion times with a man holding a gun, and the only thing that registered was that her fingers ached like a son of a bitch.
She looked down to see her pinkie and ring finger already swelling. The angle of her ring finger looked off, but her brain was so fuzzed all she could do was stare dumbly at her hand.
Out. Get out, Sophie.
She reached across her body with her left hand to open the door. Let it open. Please. She didn’t want to have to crawl out the window.
It popped open a few inches and stuck stubbornly.
She bumped at it with her shoulder but only managed to move it a bit. Swearing in frustration, she rotated her body and leaned back toward Tomas, praying the whole time that the bastard was dead. She braced her feet against the door and pushed with all her strength.
The metal shrieked in protest, but she managed to pry it open enough that she could get out. Eagerly she scooted forward until her legs stuck through the opening. When she automatically reached for the door frame to brace herself, she hissed in pain and yanked her injured hand back.
She shook it to try and assuage the horrible ache, and finally opted to rest it firmly against her chest.
“Let’s try this again,” she murmured.
Realizing the vest was in the way and that she had a better chance of squeezing through the opening without it, she fumbled with one hand on the fastenings until she loosened the vest enough to shrug out of it. Then she sucked in all her breath and eased her way between the door and the truck frame.
As soon as she was clear, she sagged against the beat-up Hummer and blew her breath out in a long exhale.
Somehow she’d come out of this alive. She took it as a sign that someone was looking out for her. The thought bolstered her flagging spirits, and she stared out over the rocky terrain. They’d driven several miles from the house, and the logical thing to do would be to retrace that path.
As she pushed away from the truck, she heard the sound of a vehicle in the distance. She put her uninjured hand to her forehead and scanned the horizon.