Page 106 of Extracted

Dallas moved down the drive, ducking low and keeping his body close to the foliage and away from the beam of the sensor light. He passed the first SUV then reached the second, Silas’s, and dropped to his knees. Sharp gravel dug through his pants, but he didn’t budge.

Three men stood back from a concrete slab. Silas was one of them, his profile unmistakable. He pulled one of the men under his arm.

Where the hell was Gemma? He had to get closer. He stayed low and moved to the front of the car. His shoes crunched softly against the gravel. He peered over the hood. Gemma’s long dark hair caught his eye. She wore a bright red dress, and her head rested to the side as if she’d been knocked out.

Her makeup was smudged, her face pale, and . . . why the hell was she wet? Strands of her hair stuck to her body, and a puddle surrounded her. A breeze wafted the stench of gasoline into his face.

His bones stiffened.

No.

Jesus Christ, she was covered in gas. Panic fired through his synapses. If he shot at the men, he could miss and hit the line of gasoline and set her ablaze.

If he got their attention, they’d surely spark the fire before he could get close.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He couldn’t even signal for Cole’s help.

The hairs on his body stirred. He had only one chance at this. Forcing a mouthful of saliva down his throat, he picked up a rock. One small distraction might not make Silas panic and react.

Might not.

He hurled the rock at the house. The stone smacked the siding, and the sound echoed in the night.

“The fuck was that?” One of the men stepped forward, shining a flashlight down the mouth of the driveway.

“Go check it out,” Silas commanded. “Make it fast. Shane needs to work up the guts anyway.” He roared with laughter.

The guard with the flashlight broke away from the group and moved toward the side of the house.

He had to act now.

Staying crouched, Dallas backtracked to the end of the vehicle and tucked his gun away. He had to do this with his bare hands.

He stood and crept over the gravel. The guard walked along the side of the house, the orb of light bouncing ahead of him. Dallas reached the grass, and the softer terrain cushioned his footsteps. He broke into a run and grabbed the guy from behind.

Locking his forearm around the man’s neck, he reared back. The guy fought, sharp gasps coming from his mouth. The flashlight fell to the ground. Lifting his free hand to the asshole’s forehead, he shifted his hold with his arm and gave one sharp snap.

The man’s neck twisted abruptly. A gurgle sounded from his throat and his body went limp in Dallas’s arms.

“All good?” Silas called from the back.

Dallas laid the man down on the lawn and scooped up the flashlight. “Yup!” he called.

Drawing his gun from the waistband of his pants, he made his way along the side of the house.

He stormed the grass, his feet pummeling the earth with determination. Lifting the flashlight, he held it in front of him.

“Here he comes, Shane,” Silas said to the guy standing near him. “You almost missed the show,” he called.

Dallas shined the flashlight at the men’s faces, blinding them temporarily. Silas squinted and turned his head away and Shane dipped his chin.

“Lower that, would ya?” Silas turned his back to Dallas and lifted a lighter.

Gemma let out a scream that pierced his eardrums.

“Light ’er up, Shane.”

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