Page 108 of Her Mercenary

“Just this second.” He exhaled, then kissed my nose. “Just this second.”

My smile faded as I considered his bruised, dirty face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Hell of a fight.”

“Yeah. He’s definitely my brother.”

I laughed. “Well, you got him in the end.”

Roman didn’t respond. Instead, he carried me across the dirt road.

But Roman didn’t get him in the end because he let him go—for me. I wondered if he would ever regret that decision.

“Where did you get the truck?”

“Divine intervention.”

I cocked a brow. “God gave you the truck?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, can he turn it into an army of soldiers to defeat the guards, then into a jet to zoom us all away?”

“At this point,” Roman peered down at me, “I don’t know what the hell to expect—from me, or anyone else for that matter.”

He slid me into the passenger seat, taking time to buckle my seat belt and make sure I was comfortable. After making a U-turn, we took off, speeding down the dirt road to the lodge.

The clouds overhead were dissipating. The early morning sun was beginning to peek through the cracks, like golden swords of fire spearing down from the sky. I imagined the beam of light a supernatural army, readied to support us for this final mission.

Four vehicles were parked in front of the lodge, and next to them, the same U-Haul that had transported me days earlier. They were preparing to load up the slaves.

We were out of time.

“Get down,” Roman said.

We drove past, turning into a narrow clearing a few yards from the lodge, and parked behind a group of trees.

“What’s the plan?” I asked, my body thrumming with adrenaline.

“You’re staying here.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Sam—”

“Roman, I am not staying here. You need me, and you know you do. You can’t kill all the guards yourself, and then get every one of those slaves out of there alive. Who knows how many guards are inside, or on their way here.”

Roman glanced in the rearview mirror, then scrutinized the lodge, a deep line of concentration forming on his brow. I was right, and he knew it. There was no way he could do this and make it out of there alive.

He looked at me. “What do you suggest, Rambo?”

“Well, I’m glad you asked, because I actually do have an idea. I want to create a diversion.”

“A diversion?” His eyes narrowed.

“Yes. Me.”

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