Page 26 of Unchained

She narrowed her eyes at his sly smirk. For a guy who’d been in captivity for numerous months, he sure knew how to make a lady’s legs go weak. On the other hand, she hadn’t had the chance to research the drug, and leaving now, when he could be hit with a second wave of side effects, wouldn’t be very ethical.

Voices reached her ears. She swiveled her head toward the window. Two silhouettes hovered near their unit. “Shit,” she breathed.

The door handle turned. She pressed her palm to the wood. It had to be Leonetti’s men. How had they found them already? A tremor wracked her spine. She didn’t need to look at Brooks to sense the rage pouring off his body.

His arm looped around her waist and carried her away from the door. She didn’t fight. He plopped her on her feet in the bathroom, gripping her shoulders. “Stay here. Lock the door and don’t come out.”

Her gun. She had one in her go-bag. “Wait!”

He paused at the door.

“There’s a—”

Crack!

A bullet fired. She screamed and clamped her hands over her ears. Brooks yelled something at her before slamming the bathroom door. Her breath spiraled in and out of her chest in a torrent of wind. She flattened her back against the wall.

Bang!

The splintering of wood followed. They were inside.

And Brooks was unarmed.

CHAPTER 9

Inching forward, Cam turned the lock on the bathroom door. It made a sharp snap. She cringed. She kept her hand pressed to her mouth, as if doing so would stop her sporadic breaths from being heard. Crashes and grunts reached her ears. No more gunshots. Yet.

She couldn’t just sit here. There was no window to escape from, and even if there were, she wouldn’t leave Brooks to fight on his own. Not that she’d be much help, but two against two was better than two against one. He’d told her the drug made him stronger and feel less pain, but would it still benefit him now, twenty-four hours later?

“Back up!” a male voice bellowed.

Crash!

Dammit. She crouched and unlocked the door. Closing her hand around the cold metal handle, she struggled to even out her breath. Instinct made her want to bolt out of the bathroom, but common sense kept her rooted. If there was even a small chance they didn’t suspect she was here, she had to stay out of sight. Opening the door a crack, she brought her eye to the opening.

A man with close-cropped orange hair and skin speckled with freckles held Brooks in a chokehold. Sweat rolled off Brooks’s red face. He snatched the redhead’s arm, tore it away from his neck, and twisted. The redhead screamed and fell to his knees.

The second man stood a few feet away, his body rigid. He held a gun trained on Brooks. Blond hair fell over his forehead. “Stop fighting! Come with us now or—”

“Or what? You’ll shoot me?” Brooks laughed. He stepped forward, arms up, and delivered a roundhouse kick to the gunman’s arm. The weapon careened from his hold and skittered toward the nightstand.

Cam’s chest ached with each pummel of her heart against her breastbone. Brooks delivered a devastating punch to the blond guy’s face, sending him backward against the wall. The redhead on the floor moved. Cam’s senses zapped to attention. Brooks hovered over the other man crumpled on the floor. “Next time you find me, I’ll kill you.”

Cam pulled the door open further. Her bag was just outside the door. All she had to do was reach around the door frame. Wriggling her fingers around the edge of the jamb, she grazed rough canvas. Pinching the edge of the bag, she dragged it into the bathroom, her gaze locked on the man on the floor behind Brooks with his back to her. The redhaired guy sat up and reached for his ankle. A silvery sheath caught the light from the window.

No!

She unzipped the bag and delved her hand inside. Where was the gun? She’d stuffed it near the bottom, cloaked in a shirt. The man lifted the knife and took a step toward Brooks. Shit! Her hand brushed over a hard object covered in cotton. She pulled it out and unwrapped the weapon. Rising on shaky legs, she removed the safety.

“Drop the knife!” Her voice boomed through the room. She swung the gun in front of her, aiming at the redhead with the blade. He turned, and his mouth twisted into a snarl as he slid his eyes up and down her body. Brooks lunged forward, grabbed the guy’s wrist, and squeezed.

“Ah!” he cried, dropping to one knee. The knife fell from his fingers and bounced on the tattered brown carpet.

Brooks’s face blossomed with rage. So violently red, it was almost purple. Cam approached, pointing the gun at the kneeling man. The blond man shifted on the floor, scooting away from Brooks and stopping to rest against the wall near the door. She inched closer to Brooks, until she was between the two attackers. She jerked her head from one to the other.

“They’ll find you,” the man panted, his focus on Brooks. “No point running.”

A vein in Brooks’s neck pulsed. Cam watched, transfixed, as he battled with the small amount of control holding him back from killing the guy. If murder had ever been written in someone’s eyes, it was now.

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