Page 22 of K-9 Guardians

A forced exhale reached her ears as she waited for King’s answer. The files? All of this—the deaths of two federal agents, the kidnapping of a ten-year-old boy—for information for an off-the-books investigation. What the hell had Agents Dunkeld and Roday uncovered?

King’s groan turned into more of a growl.

“The files, Agent Elsher,” Muñoz said. “Please.”

“I’ve got a little itch. On the right side of this blade.” A hardness Scarlett had never witnessed seemed to roll through King as he faced off with Muñoz. “Do you mind?”

A frustrated laugh punctuated Muñoz shoving to his feet. He threw his chair backward, barely missing one of the cartel soldiers stationed behind him. The lieutenant latched on to the blade and twisted it deeper into her partner’s thigh.

The sound of King’s pain etched deep into Scarlett’s memory, to the point she would hear it every time she closed her eyes. It took everything she had not to get to her feet and find another home for that blade, but she’d already failed King once tonight. She wouldn’t let it happen again. Gruber echoed King’s lament and doubled the amount of agony washing through her.

She took the opportunity of distraction to make more progress on the inside of her waistband. To the razor blade she’d sewn into the fabric there.

It wasn’t much, but it would have to be enough.

“No, to the right, Muñoz. I said to the right.” A half laugh, half sob contorted King’s usually even voice, shaking through him. His body wasn’t going to be able to take much more. Shock hit everyone differently, but judging by the sweat coating his entire face and neck, Scarlett bet he didn’t have much time before the laughs died. “Now everyone’s going to know you died scratching my itch.”

“I died?” Muñoz’s voice didn’t reflect his amusement.

“Yes.” The tremors had settled in the past few seconds, giving her a raw look at the man holding out as long as possible to save the people he cared about. “Because no matter what you do, I’m not going to give you the location of those files, which means your bosses are going to hunt you down and cut you into tiny little pieces. And if you kill me, hurt my son or my partner, there will be nowhere for you to hide.”

Scarlett pulled at the removable stitches and opened up the small slit in the fabric of her waistband. The razor blade was inside. No bigger than half of her index finger but deadly enough in a pinch.

“That’s where we disagree, Agent Elsher.” Muñoz leaned down toward King’s face, his back to Scarlett. “Because even after I get rid of your bodies, the DEA would still welcome me with open arms. They need what I know.”

“Seems you’ve thought this through.” King was struggling to breathe. Exaggerated. Short.

“I have.” Muñoz, out of breath, sank down onto one knee, effectively ruining that pretty suit. Though maybe the blood stains on the right sleeve had beaten the floor to it. “Now, give me the location of the files, and I will at least let your son live.”

But not Scarlett. Not Hans or Gruber. And not King.

Short bursts of breath escaped King’s control as the dip in his brows suggested his inner fight with what might happen next. That intense gaze settled on her, and in that moment, she locked her full attention on him. And he knew. He knew that she wasn’t going to give up or give in. Scarlett pulled the razor blade free, letting the sharp ends bite into her palms. She nodded. Just a little longer. That was all she asked.

Muñoz slapped the DEA agent’s face, bringing him back to the present moment. “Do it soon enough, and Julien might even walk away in one piece.”

King’s laugh hiked his smile higher. Despite the blood loss and the overall agony he must have felt, he was going to hang on. To give them a chance of escape.

“You really aren’t going to tell me, are you?” The cartel lieutenant wiped at his own brow, as though torture took more out of him than his victims.

“No.” King shook his head.

“In that case.” Muñoz shoved to his feet and kicked at King’s chair. The agent tipped backward and landed with a hard thud against the cement floor. The lieutenant unsheathed a smaller blade than the one sticking out of King’s thigh. “I’ll start sending you back to the DEA one piece at a time.”

Scarlett put everything she had into rolling, throwing herself into the back of Muñoz’s legs, razor blade in hand. Her Kevlar vest threatened to slow her down, but that bright spot of determination was all she had to hold on to. Muñoz fell backward, slamming into the floor with his legs draped over Scarlett’s side.

She swiped the blade across the tendon in the back of one ankle. “Can’t have you following us.”

Muñoz’s scream outdid King’s and called the other three soldiers to action. Only two of them were preoccupied with their captives. Julien and Gruber.

Eyes on the third soldier coming at her from across the room, Scarlett sawed through the ropes around King’s wrists, then launched herself at the attacker closing in. “Get Julien out of here!”

The soldier pulled a gleaming steel blade and arced the knife down. Scarlett ducked, feeling every strike from her previous fight bruised into her sides and face.

Her attacker overextended, putting his back to her, and she took full advantage. She kicked him down as Gruber’s growls grew louder with each passing second. She angled her back to the Doberman and the man at the end of Gruber’s leash. Dragging her belt from her waistband, she wrapped it around her left forearm as the knifeman got back on his feet.

He came at her a second time, straight to the chest. Scarlett stepped to the side, letting him slide right past her. Into the cartel member at her back. The knife hit home, and the choke chain hit the floor.

Gruber was free, and he didn’t waste a single second letting everyone in the room know about it. The Doberman launched at the knifeman as Scarlett caught the bastard’s wrist and turned his own blade on himself. Shoving back with everything she had, she cornered both soldiers. Then kicked at the knee of the soldier with the knife.

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