Page 39 of Outlaw
Sabrina
Ijust walkedinto an ambush with Cindy at my side.
I wrench my forearm out of the stranger’s grip and stomp down hard on his boot. He’s howling in pain, but his hand won’t release my waist.
“Stop moving!” The man keeps shouting, and every time I pull away, he drags me back into his grip, brandishing a hypodermic needle filled with unknown liquid. I’m not going to stop moving long enough for him to dispense whatever’s in that needle into my veins. He’ll have to knock me out the old-fashioned way.
After shooting a quick glance over at Cindy, I feel more confident. She’s holding her own, taking on the three other thugs in black suits who look like FBI rejects. They barged across the hallway to my condo unit just seconds after Cindy got inside the front door, shoving us inside. The bastards must have been staking out the place all this time.
The guy after me tightens around my waist from behind me and hauls me up off the ground. I can only use my arms and legs. As I pound on the top of his head, I stretch out one leg to the push against wall outside the bathroom, pivoting sharply. It sends him off balance, and he stumbles right into the sofa, flipping it on its back, with me landing on top of him. But shit, he’s still holding on to that needle. I thought for sure it would break.
Hoping to make it to my bedroom, I scamper away. This man is persistent. As I run down the hall, he catches me again and picks me up in the same hold. Thankfully, the force of his move causes him to overreach, and the two extra steps he takes to correct himself lands us squarely in the open bathroom door. I have something to work with. We’re in a confined space with walls and random items to use as leverage and weapons, and his syringe-waving hand will be close enough for me to reach. Getting that tranquilizer out of the equation is my first priority, so I’m relieved as I swat the thing out of his hand. The needle breaks as it hits the granite floor. By the expression on his face, he wasn’t expecting me to manage that move.
Well, he’s going to love this one. My attacker regains his balance, but with my back pressed against his chest, I tilt my head forward then swiftly head-butt backward, crashing my skull into his nose and forehead. His howl of pain gives me bone-deep satisfaction. The rush of energy helps too. He cups his nose with one hand to stop the blood from gushing down his face. There we go. That’s when I wrench my body out of his grasp. Refusing to let him have a second to recover, I knee him in the groin next, and shove him hard toward my bathtub. The audiblethumpsound is his back and head hitting porcelain. It echoes through the space, and he lets out a groan, then his eyes droop, and finally, his body slumps sideways.
He’ll be out for a while.
One down.
I’m not done yet, though. Three goons are still crowding Cindy. She defends herself rather well until one of them pulls out a gun as I step out of the bathroom doorway.
“Shit,” I breathe out, and stop in my tracks.
Cindy pivots to face her attacker, who presses the weapon to the center of her forehead.
“Enough!” The gun-toting prick shouts. “You bitches need to shut up and stay put, or I’ll take you out one by one.” He glances my way, meeting my narrowed gaze with one of his own. He’s not bluffing, and I’ve seen enough to know from the half-crazed yet disciplined expression on his face. This man has to be ex-military, but his threat confuses me. Most most of the people who come after me are under orders not to kill me. Mind you, my father has more enemies than I care to know about. Maybe it’s not who I first thought it was.
“I only need you alive,” he says to me. “Not this other crazy bitch. And no one said anything about flesh wounds. If you don’t want your friend’s brains blown out all over the walls, start cooperating.”
Without a word, I nod blankly and throw up my hands. I’m out of options, as I don’t want anyone getting hurt. Silas will never forgive me if his mother is shot and killed because of me. “Okay, I’m cooperating, see? Please, move the gun away from her face.”
A painful groan comes from the bathtub behind me. The guy I took out is already starting to recover.
“You don’t give me orders, princess,” the big brute with the gun shouts. To prove his point, he takes off the safety and shoves the weapon harder into Cindy’s forehead, pushing her back a step.
I swallow hard, fingers curling into aching, helpless fists. “What the hell do you want from me?” My voice only shakes a little bit, and my spine straightens a bit more because of it, hoping he won’t confuse it for weakness.
“Sit in the corner. My friend here is going to make sure your wrists are nice and tied up, understand?”
“Okay,” I tell him calmly, and cross my legs as I lower to the ground.
“Good, now keep your mouth shut.”
Cindy starts to ask a question, and a loud smack rings out when the man’s open palm whips across her cheek. I can’t keep my panic in check now. Words tumble out of my mouth, but none of them make any sense. Another man snatches me by the hair and one hand until I’m forced to stand again. I let out a surprised scream from the way he nearly wrenches my arm out of its socket long after I got to my feet.
Then the front door creaks. I go from staring into the eyes of this violent prick to smashing my eyes shut in reaction to the blood splattering across my face, hot and thick. The guy with the gun crumples to the floor.
“Shit!”
I jump back a few feet, tripping on the bathroom rug. In my effort not to hit the porcelain tub or granite floor, I over-correct and spill forward onto my stomach, across the unconscious form of the man with the gun, who now has a knife stuck in his side.
Then I see Silas.
I’m still processing the idea that he threw that knife across the room from all the way over at the front door when he takes on the other man closest to him, tackling him to the floor. Cindy moves into high gear with the last man standing. She swivels around and knees the man directly in the balls as if she has eyes on the back of her head. The thug in a cheap suit drops to the floor, and Silas sends him to la la land with a kick in the head. He charges past me and stops in front of the guy waking up in the tub, smashing fist after fist to his face. When this last attacker passes out again, Silas drags him out of the bathroom, across the living room and over to the other attackers.
They’re passed-out heaps of bloodied polyester suits, but at least they’re still alive—barely. I don’t understand why these guys came with guns and were ready to use it. It can be anyone, really.
Crap.
