Page 83 of Don't Let Go

“Good.”

The silence stretched excruciatingly. The sound of something burning echoed into the rig. They were cutting into the side door. I closed my eyes a split second before the lights targeted the door as it opened.

Then I opened them as I took aim.

And I fired.

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

PATCH

“Patch?” Remy’s voice penetrated the dull roar left behind by firing the gun. It didn’t matter how steady my aim had been, I couldn’t look away from the two bodies piled on each other. I’d emptied half the magazine into the pair.

Pulling the trigger repeatedly had left me deafened. But I couldn’t look away. The lights had gone off. The car was still out there. My screen was still on and the guys were on the line.

“Almost there, Sugar Bear. Are you secure?” McQuade’s voice trickled past the ringing. It sounded like he was a thousand miles away.

He wasn’t there. Neither was Remy. It was just me and the two dead men.

“Just keep breathing for us, luv. Let out another long breath, you don’t have to say anything.”

Remy was in Dallas. Locke and McQuade were…

“Sugar Bear, in three minutes, you’re going to see our headlights on the monitor. The alarms will probably go off again. It’s us.”

They were close. That was good. My chest hurt, and my lungs burned. Oh. I was holding my breath. I blew out a long sigh.

“There she is,” Remy said. “Don’t let go of the line now, luv. We’ve got you and we’re not letting go.”

“Two minutes,” McQuade counting it down helped. Particularly when it was an eternity between three minutes and two.

“We’re on the dirt road,” Locke added as McQuade said “one minute,” and another shuddering breath left me. Their headlights glowed on my computer monitor.

“Can you see their headlights?” Remy verified.

“Yes.” Oh, that word came out so very small.

“Good girl,” McQuade said, the rubble in his voice adding more of a growl than normal. “That’s my sugar bear. I’m doing a little dance as we walk up… can you see me?”

I had to drag my gaze from the downed bodies to the screen again. It was hard to refocus but there were two men, just like there had been two who came in the door.

The air backed up in my lungs.

“I’m dancing, Sugar Bear. Tell me you can see me.” McQuade’s order snapped through the haze and I blinked. One of the men was dancing. It was a lot like John Travolta in that movie…what was that movie?

“I remember that one,” I said slowly. “Wasn’t Uma Thurman in it?”

Why couldn’t I remember the name?

“Pulp Fiction,” Locke said. “You’re right. He’s doing that weird dance. Remind me to get you real lessons, McQuade.”

“Fuck. Off.” The familiarity in the teasing and grousing helped to crack more of the wall that separated me from the rest of the world. I didn’t even know when that wall went up.

My hand trembled.

“They’re coming, luv,” Remy said, his accent seemed softer somehow, kinder. “Hang on. Are you still pointing the gun at the door?”

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