Page 91 of Welker

“Surprised, Mick?” Moira taunted, circling. “You thought I was going to play helpless?”

“You will when I’m finished with you,” Mick snapped.

“Seriously? You believed all my back-up was far, far away?”

Mick’s face reddened with outrage. It was just the out-of-control response she was looking for.

He sputtered angrily, taking a few imprudent steps toward her. “You may have a sniper, but they’re not right here to help you. And I’m going to kill you with my bare hands. There’s no way?—"

“Need any help taking out the trash?”

A Texas drawl cut through the air as Boone prowled dangerously from the cover of trees where he’d been hidden.

Mick’s attention turned incredulously toward the newcomer, and that’s all Moira needed. She attacked.

A kick to the back of his knee had Mick going to the ground, but he was tenacious, and when Moira didn’t move away quite fast enough. Mick grabbed her ankle, tumbling her down on top of him. She hit hard on her ribcage, and the instant pain had her almost seeing stars, but she wasn’t about to let the asshole see her weakness, nor get the upper hand.

Before Mick could figure out his next move, Moira reared up to her knees, straddling his prone body and pummeling his face with a series of rapid blows.

One to the nose. Crunch. An intense strike to both ears that had the man howling, then both thumbs honed in, aiming for his eyeballs.

Mick, however, wasn’t done yet. He managed to grab her hands and keep her from connecting, then used all his strength to tip her to one side and off his body.

Once again, Moira landed on her bad ribs, and this time the sharp pain that ensued had her gasping for breath.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Had she separated her muscle wall again?

Mick let her wrists go as he gained the upper position. He sneered as his fist cocked back and blood dripped down onto Moira’s face from his busted nose. Moira wanted to move, to retaliate, but she was too busy trying to drag air into her lungs to dodge the blow she knew was coming.

She braced, and…

Mick’s weight was suddenly lifted from her.

Moira blinked up to see that Boone had collared the man, who was easily five inches shorter than him, and was proceeding to shake him around like a dog with a toy. Now that was a bitch… Not.

Finding Hayden suddenly in her peripheral vision, Moira wondered if she’d arrived to help Boone, but the ballsy woman simply grinned and saluted her husband, then circled around the pair to poke her toe into a still yowling Pidge’s hip, making sure he was no longer a problem.

Once Hayden had determined he was incapacitated for the duration, she hurried over to Moira’s side and dropped down.

“Are you okay?” she asked, a worried look on her face that was apparent by the crease between her brows. “I’m seeing blood.”

“I…” Moira wasn’t exactly able to speak. She held up a wobbly finger, letting Hayden know she needed a few seconds, then she ordered her body to relax.

It’s okay, Moira, she told herself. The danger had passed.

Right. At least the threat from Mick and Pidge. Now all she had to do was determine if she was headed back to surgery.

Suck it up.

Moira placed a hand on her own chest and slowly inhaled.

Come on. Come on…

Hell, yes! Her chest inflated as it should. If Moira ever managed to get up off the ground, she might just do a fist-pump.

She gradually let out her breath. As the air passed through her pursed lips, her chest reacted appropriately again as it contracted. Awesome news, but it was still painful as all get-out.

Maybe if she could just get her body to move…

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