Page 70 of In Her Sights
“Fine.” The man looked at Sonny expectantly.
“Let me see the papers first, Lubchek,” Sonny said. “Then I’ll send you the file.”
Bastien stiffened visibly, his head whipping around toward Sonny, but Lubchek didn’t seem to be offended. Pulling a large envelope from his laptop bag, he handed it to Sonny. “The file is complete?”
“Just like we promised,” Sonny assured him as he pawed through the contents of the folder. “It has the personal and financial details of every one of LZH Finance’s clients.”
Molly absorbed that information, a little shocked. She’d expected drugs or weapons or even black-market laptops, but financial data theft was not what she’d thought Sonny would be hocking. The way they were doing this right in front of John was a bad sign. She needed to act before they made sure he could never testify against them.
Lubchek snatched the envelope away from Sonny.
“Hey!” Sonny protested.
“Send me the file, then you get this and the rest of the payment we agreed to.”
Now! she texted.
Praying with everything in her that her hastily cobbled together, half-assed plan would work, she lifted a piece of wood that had broken off one of the pallets. Cocking back her arm, she threw it as far as she could to her left, desperately hoping that Cara was not close to where it landed. The wood hit the metal bracing on one of the shelves and clattered noisily to the concrete floor.
All four of the men turned toward the sound, all but Sonny drawing their guns in unison, as if they’d rehearsed it. The burly guy and Bastien took off toward the sound, while Sonny slipped off in the other direction, leaving Lubchek with John. Without pausing to dwell on the utter insanity of her plan, Molly darted out of her hiding place and sprinted toward Lubchek. His eyes widened as he swung around, bringing his gun up as he turned.
“H—!” he started to shout, but her shoulder hit him squarely in the midsection, driving the air out of his lungs and bringing both of them to the floor. The impact clacked her teeth together and sent a jolt through her. Ignoring that, she grabbed for the gun he still clutched in his right hand. Grasping the barrel, she pushed up and twisted, yanking the pistol from his grip.
As soon as she had the weapon, she pushed off him, drawing another grunt as her knee dug into his lower belly. She backed up several steps, the gun aimed right at Lubchek’s still-heaving chest.
Keeping the gun in her right hand trained on a glaring Lubchek, she yanked a folding knife out of her pocket and used her teeth to open it. Once the blade sprang free, she sliced through the tape holding John to the chair—arms, then torso, then legs.
He pulled free of his chair just as Bastien gave a shout, and he and the bouncer look-alike came charging back toward them, guns raised. Molly threw the knife at them, but it flew wide. John grabbed the back of the chair and shoved it so it barreled toward them, knocking into the bulky guy and tripping him up. Bastien didn’t slow, his lips drawn back in a grimace as he aimed his gun at John.
Aiming her own gun toward the cop, Molly fired twice. The first shot winged his arm, and he dove to the side, taking cover behind one of the plywood partitions as the second shot missed him completely. Turning back toward Lubchek, she saw he was already up and lunging toward her. She brought the gun around, but she knew she was going to be too slow. He was going to take her down, and it was going to hurt.
Before he reached her, John’s booted foot connected with his temple, and Lubchek dropped to the floor. She barely even blinked in reaction before John was grabbing her arm and dragging her behind a nearby toppled shelving unit.
As soon as they were concealed from the others, he squeezed her in the quickest, hardest, most welcome hug she’d ever experienced. “That was amazing. I love you. You’re insane, but I still love you. If you ever do that again, I’ll… Well, I’ll probably have a heart attack, so don’t ever do that again.” As he continued to mutter, he crouched and ran to the opposite end of their overturned shelf, towing her behind him with a firm grip on her hand.
“Maybe don’t get captured and punched in the face a bunch of times, and I won’t have to,” she whispered, handing him the gun. “Here. You take this. I love you too, and I’m very glad that you’re not dead…yet. Cara’s in here somewhere, and Norah’s in the car.” As soon as he accepted the weapon, she checked her phone, but there weren’t any new texts. “I think she’s still parked and waiting for us, but she’s a horrible communicator. She could be driving back to Langston, for all I know.”
“At least my car won’t get shot up, then,” John said, quickly peeking and then firing twice over the top of the shelf. There was an answering volley of shots, and Molly flinched, hoping that the wooden barrier would at least slow the bullets down a little.
“Always the optimist,” she muttered once the shooting stopped. Needing to know what was happening, she poked her head up just far enough to see. Lubchek was still down, apparently unconscious, sprawled where they’d left him. She couldn’t see Bastien, but the burly man was very unstealthily sneaking between the shelves toward them. “Bouncer guy who likes punching at three o’clock.”
“Thanks. May I use your Taser for a minute?” John handed her back the gun. Accepting the pistol with one hand, she dug out her Taser with the other. “You’re pretty comfortable with that,” he whispered as he took the Taser from her. “I thought you didn’t like guns.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t know how to use them,” she said. “Now shoo. Go take care of business.”
With a bloody, crooked grin, he rushed at the approaching man. Keeping alert for any sign of Bastien, Molly also managed to watch John take down the burly guy. As she grinned, finding a deep satisfaction in watching Mr. Punch-A-Lot writhe on the floor, a movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. She turned, bringing the gun up, to see Bastien bearing down on her. Aiming squarely at the center of his chest, she ignored the panicking corner of her brain telling her that she could never kill someone intentionally and pulled the trigger.
Click.
Horror dawned just as he dove at her, bringing her down to the ground. It felt as if a car had landed on her when Bastien’s weight drove the air from her lungs. The empty gun went flying as her arm cracked against the floor. She struggled, but he had her pinned, and no matter how she twisted or tried to turn, she wasn’t able to roll them over so she could get the upper hand. Her right arm was numb and unresponsive, so she swung with her left, but the angle didn’t allow her to get in a solid hit, and her fist harmlessly glanced off the side of his head. She switched from punches to trying to gouge at his eyes, hoping to hit a vulnerable spot, but he grabbed her left hand in his right and wrenched it down to the ground.
His face was grimly satisfied as his free hand wrapped around her throat, cutting off her oxygen. She kept fighting, but darkness started to edge her vision, and panic threatened to overwhelm her brain. All she could see was his stupid, homicidal face, and it pissed her off like nothing else that it was going to be the last thing she saw before she died.
Suddenly, there was a loud thump, and the pressure was gone as Bastien slumped limply to the side. Molly gasped in long, ragged breaths that hurt her throat but still felt incredible. She blinked, clearing the blurry, oxygen-deprived haziness from her vision, and Cara came into clear focus. She was standing over them, a Maglite in her hand and a fierce expression on her face.
“Get him off,” Molly managed to wheeze, shoving at the unconscious man’s shoulder. “He’s freaking heavy.”
With Cara’s help, she pushed him off far enough that she was able to wiggle out from underneath him. As soon as she was standing, she grinned at her sister. “Thanks.”
