Page 220 of New Storm Rising
Bam!
“Get down!”
Instincts honed through years of surviving in the wild made my body move on its own. Yet I still wasn’t in time.
Crack!
Sparks flew up from the ground and stone splinters exploded in all directions. A moment later, I slammed into my wife, pushing her to the ground and trying to cover her with my body.
Bam!
“Ng!”
Positive news: I had successfully shielded my wife.
Negative news: Bullets hurt. But I knew that already, didn’t I?
“What is it?” A muffled voice full of concern came from beneath me. “What happened to you?”
“Nothing!” I squeezed out through clenched teeth, while quickly checking the wound on my leg. Just a graze. But an infernally painful one. “Grrah…nothing whatsoever!”
That had sounded convincing, right?
“Don’t lie to me!”
Apparently not.
“Where are you injured? How bad—”
“No time!” Struggling against the pain, I forced myself to move. We had to get out of here! We had to—
Bam!
This time, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of light. My head whipped around, and there he was! High up on the huge stone base of the statue, dressed in black, squatted a man with a rifle in his hand. Even from this distance, I could see him reloading.
“Get back inside!” I barked and, jumping up, pushed my wife towards the entrance of the statue. Whirling around, I zeroed in on the assassin’s figure and started forward without hesitation. It might have worked better if I hadn’t been limping. From behind me, I heard Lillian’s protests, but cut them off with a swipe of the hand.
“Now! Go!” Not waiting for an answer, I once more gritted my teeth against the pain and broke into a run. With a roar of agony, I leapt into the air, digging my fingers in the gap between two of the giant stone blocks that made up the pedestal. Without the slightest hesitation, I started to climb, the fear in my heart slightly abated by my wife’s receding footsteps. Yet as the fear vanished, that only left more room for rage. Cold, icy, ruthless rage that was fully focused on a certain man not far above.
I sped up.
The assassin above seemed to have noticed. His movements grew faster, fumbling to get the next bullet into the chamber. I didn’t stop. He slid the bullet into the chamber. Still, I didn’t stop. He took aim—and, just in time, I pulled myself up the last few feet into the safety of his blind spot, right underneath the stone balcony above my head.
Bam! Bam, bam!
“¡Bastardo!”
That one word, that oneSpanishword, was enough to confirm my suspicions as to who had sent the man. Not that confirmation was necessary. I had already known who was responsible. Some dead men who hadn’t found their way under the ground yet.
“¡Maldita sea!”
Accompanied by several Spanish curses, I heard the man shuffle around above me. A moment later, the barrel of a rifle peeked over the balustrade of the balcony where the assassin was skulking—and that was when I struck! Lashing out, I closed my fingers around the end of the barrel and tugged hard.
“Aaaah!”
The Spanish bastard was sent stumbling forward and nearly sailed over the balustrade. Before he could right himself, I grabbed hold of a ledge and pulled myself up towards the balcony. As soon as the assassin came into sight, he took aim—but not soon enough.
Wham!
