Page 7 of August

“I’m going to need everyone to exit,” Sherry called over the din. Her voice droned on in a vague explanation of their emergency.

Fright bit into Gigi’s muscles. “August,” she said, her voice trembling. He was already steering her back down the hall to the manager’s office.

“Down!” he shouted. His hand clamped on her waist as he pulled her to the ground.

Crack, crack!

Glass shattered. A sharp cry sounded, and Gigi looked back to see Sherry sink to the floor, her eyes round with anguish. Blood pumped from a wound on her chest.

“Oh my god,” Gigi cried. She crawled out of August’s hold and clasped Sherry’s hand.

The woman’s soft brown eyes found Gigi’s. Her breathing was labored, her mouth wide with silent cries. August had medical training. Maybe he could help her.

“It’s okay,” Gigi rasped. “You’re going to be okay.” The words were moot, only a pathetic effort to ease Sherry’s pain. Deep down, she knew there was nothing a medic could do now. Crimson blood drenched the woman’s white shirt and apron.

August blasted off several shots. “Move!” He seized Gigi under her arms and hauled her to her feet. Sherry’s fingers slipped from her grip.

“Wait!” Gigi jerked out of his hold. “We can’t just leave her,” she wailed. She reached for Sherry again, but August closed his hand around her bicep.

“It’s too late for her.” His tone was curt as he towed her down the hall. He shoved her into the office.

She stumbled forward and her hands connected with the desk. She wheeled around, fear on her tongue.

August stood at the door, his face grim and hard. His boyish demeanor gone. This was the soldier. The black-ops man who killed without a second thought.

“I’m sorry.” His apology came out rough and lacking emotion. “My job is to protect you and that’s what I’m doing. Barricade the door and don’t let anyone in except me. Understand?”

She inhaled through her nose, the sudden rush of oxygen dizzying. “Yes.” The word came out clipped but missing the sharp sting her tongue wanted to deliver. Now wasn’t the time. The longer he stood here fussing over her, the greater the chances someone else would die. “Just go.”

August gave one nod and slammed the door shut. Gigi swiped the tears from her cheeks and shoved one of the chairs beneath the door handle, as August had instructed. She covered her mouth with her fingers and her shoulders shook.

Sherry hadn’t deserved this. Hadn’t needed to get involved. Now the poor woman was dead because of Gigi. If she’d gone somewhere else, had just hidden in the wilderness rather than endanger innocent people, Sherry would be alive.

Screams erupted from outside the door. Gigi brought her hands to her ears and closed her eyes, wishing she could block out the noise.

Please, God, don’t let anyone else die.

CHAPTER 3

August moved down the hall toward the front of the restaurant, his hackles raised. He’d hated leaving Gigi behind in the office. Not having her where he could see and protect her went against everything in his being.

The bullet that had hit Sherry was intended for Gigi. He couldn’t take the risk of the shooter’s next round hitting his target. Whoever had fired that shot was skilled.

August passed Sherry’s lifeless form. A pang of guilt hit his chest before quickly diminishing. As sad as it was that Sherry had been killed, there was nothing he could do about it. He had one mission—protect Gigi and take out her assassin. And that’s what he’d fucking do.

He lifted his weapon and scanned the empty dining area. Plates of food sat abandoned on tables, chairs were turned over, and glass from the shot-out front window covered the cheap linoleum.

The assailant’s car was gone. What the fuck?

Where the hell had the sonofabitch gone?

He’d shot him. He knew that without a doubt. Right before he’d half dragged Gigi to the back, he’d hit the assassin. Problem was, he hadn’t seen him go down. He couldn’t be certain the guy was dead until he saw for himself. And then put a bullet in his head for good measure.

Glass crunched beneath his shoes as he raced toward the open window. A breeze blew into the now eerily calm space. Tension radiated up his spine like mercury in a thermometer. He stepped through the broken window and scanned the parking lot.

Blood splattered the asphalt. The guy had run because he was severely injured. Had to be.

August lowered his gun and pressure built between his temples. Fuck!

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