Page 94 of Dalla's Royal Guards
Stella exhaled slowly and sighted the two men flanking the group. Adrenaline mixed with the repercussion of the rifle as she pulled the trigger twice in rapid succession.
She watched as both men dropped, blood spraying the damp cave wall behind them.
She couldn’t help taunting them for being found out, their plans ruined so soon, but itwasonly a moment; she got to business immediately after.
“Drop your weapons and put your hands up, Detri. Tell your Pitbull to do the same or I’ll put a bullet between your eyeballs. Sidearms as well. Come on, boys. You know the routine.”
She watched and waited as Detri nodded to Gunther and they slowly dropped their rifles before they pulled and dropped their sidearms.
“Now, the Al-Rashid brothers. Detri might be stupid enough to think you aren’t carrying, but I know you are. Drop your weapons, or we’ll see if your lady friend can regrow limbs,” Stella ordered.
Her lips twitched when Detri cursed as Musad and Nasser Al-Rashid each tossed a pistol into the sand in front of them. Only when she was sure that she wouldn’t face multiple threats did she shoulder her assault rifle, pull her twin pistols, and step out from behind the ribs of the ancient shipwreck like a shadow peeling away from the dark.
Her boots crunched softly in the sand.
Detri’s eyes narrowed. “You crazy bitch!”
She rolled her eyes. “Always the same line. Always the same men,” she retorted, shooting Detri in the chest from less than five feet away.
Gunther released a growling curse and dove for his weapon.
She fired again, striking Gunther in the upper back.
Both men lay face down, unmoving, in the sand.
She turned, leveling her gun at Musad when he started forward. She chuckled when he stopped before stiffly straightening to glare back at her.
“I don’t need the CIA. I don’t need the princes. I just need her,” she said with a serene smile.
Her finger tightened on the trigger, and she breathed in, feeling the excitement of an impending kill. Her excitement turned to outrage when Dalla sprung forward with surprising speed. Stella had already committed to the shot when Dalla shoved Musad hard, knocking him out of the line of fire.
The reverberation of the pistol flowed through her arm. Dalla gasped, her body jerking as the bullet tore into her ribcage.
“Damn you!” Stella cursed
“No!” Nasser shouted hoarsely, diving forward to catch Dalla as her knees gave out.
“Damn you!” Stella cursed again, lifting both pistols at the same time.
Dalla’s arm swung towards Stella. In a strange, pain-filled haze, she watched the gun in her left hand fall from her grasp, feeling her body jerk from some kind of impact. She dove for her weapon, her fingers scrabbling through the sand, while sheaimed the pistol in her other hand at Nasser and Musad. It was as she moved that she registered an intense pain in her chest.
Glancing down, she blinked at the ornate hilt of an ancient weapon sticking out of her chest, near her heart. She slowly lifted her head toward the woman being cradled between the two men. Dalla gazed back at her, her eyes holding determination, defiance, and… acceptance.
Before she could command her finger to pull back the trigger, an explosion of color ripped through her brain, and she staggered as her head jerked back. In the split second before her mind shattered, before death opened its greedy arms to her, her gaze lifted.
A tall, handsome black man was descending the stone staircase with deadly calm. Black coat. Silver pistol. Eyes cold.
Harlem Jones.
Their eyes locked.
You bastard,she thought.
Dalla lay cradled in Nasser’s arms, her breathing shallow, each inhale a struggle against the pain burning through her chest. Musad knelt beside her, his hands trembling as he pressed the cloth of his jacket over the wound. Blood soaked her blouse, pooling around them in the sand.
“Don’t cry…” she whispered, her lips brushing Nasser’s jaw
“Don’t talk. We’ll get you out. Help is on the way,” Nasser said, his voice thick, frantic.
