Page 56 of Ryder

“You get hit?” I moved closer to try and inspect it, but he shook his head.

“Just grazed my skin. Nothing serious.”

“Jesus, what the fuck is goin’ on?” I asked to no one in particular. It seemed like I was drifting through a nightmare, one where all of our lives could be snuffed out in a split second. Only it wasn’t a nightmare at all.

I saw movement to my left and when I turned, gun locked and loaded with my arm outstretched, index finger playing with the trigger, I was two seconds away from firing. Then I saw it was Marek running at us.

“I almost fuckin’ shot you.”

“Good thing you didn’t.” Marek was calm, calmer than he should’ve been in those circumstances. Then again, if he freaked out, where would that leave the rest of us?

“Hey, look who just snuck inside,” Jagger interrupted, glancing from the window to us and back again. When we all turned to look at who he was referring to, we saw Koritz rifling around inside the back of some ol’ truck, seemingly oblivious that there were four of us watching his every movement. All he had to do was look up and he’d see us, but like always, the crooked DEA agent was only worried about himself.

As I pried my eyes away from that bastard, I caught a glimpse of Stone hovering close to the side of the building. He appeared to be hurrying in our direction, but then he stopped, his feet seemingly frozen in place. The popping sounds of guns being fired were still prevalent, so I was baffled as to why he wasn’t seeking cover.

Is he looking for us?

Why isn’t he moving?

I swore the man had no fear, even when he should, and I was sure it all stemmed back to him not being able to feel pain. He could still be killed, however, and the sight of him just standing there pissed me off. Not only for him, but for us in case we bore witness to a sight that would haunt us forever.

Him being taken out.

“What the hell is he doin’?” Marek asked, shouting a barrage of obscenities before moving past us and toward his best friend.

But he was too late.

My mouth wouldn’t open to warn him. I couldn’t move, frozen in place much like Stone. Time slowed but didn’t allow me the ability to do a goddamn thing other than watch. My heart skipped a beat and my vision blurred.

A man came out of the brush and walked up behind Stone, standing a few feet from him and pointing the gun at the back of his head. He was unaware that our leader was rushing toward him, and right before Marek tackled him, the light from the gun flashed brightly.

Stone’s head jerked forward before he was thrown to the ground, his lifeless body sprawled out in front of us. As soon as Marek saw what happened, he went crazy, jamming his gun into the man’s mouth and pulling the trigger. When he finally rose to his feet, his right shoulder jerked backward, his feet stumbling to keep him upright.

At that point, I’d come unglued and raced past Jagger and Tripp, intent on running right into the crosshairs of the bullets still relentlessly being fired.

I was feet from Marek when a pain sliced through my thigh, my leg locking up and suddenly becoming dead weight. I lurched forward, my arms reaching out to find something solid to brace me, but there was nothing. I’d made it to the edge of the building and unfortunately had a clear view of the scene continuing to unfold in front of me.

Another bullet pierced Marek, that time in the chest. He was thrown backward, his gun falling to his side and not in front of him to ward off another attack.

As my legs gave out and I fell to the ground, Tripp and Jagger were next to me. Jagger threw off his cut, ripped off his shirt and made quick work of tying it around my thigh, instinctively knowing where I’d been hit. Did they see it happen?

“Did you really think you’d win, you piece of shit,” Koritz shouted, stepping from the building with his weapon raised to finish off our president. He spit on the ground near Marek’s head. “You made a big mistake making Carrillo cut off all ties with the Reapers. That decision affected me too, ya know.” Koritz’s foot connected with Marek’s wounded shoulder. “Now you’ll finally get what you deserve.” Laughing, he turned and looked toward Stone’s body. “Looks like you’ll be joining your VP soon enough,” he threatened, stepping forward to snatch Marek’s life.

“I don’t think so,” a gruff voice said, walking up behind the DEA agent and shoving a gun into his back. Whoever it was remained in the shadows, hiding so I couldn’t get a good look at him. His voice sounded familiar, though.

Koritz whipped around, lowering his gun because he obviously knew the man; otherwise, he would’ve fired on him. It was then that Tripp made a move toward Marek, but before he got too far, I grabbed his leg. If he had any chance of not getting shot himself, he needed to assess the situation.

Thankfully Koritz was engaged at the moment, but how long would that last? Who was he even talking to?

“Be careful,” I urged, releasing him and wincing as Jagger tied the material tighter around my wound. Seconds later my vision started to tunnel, but I fought like hell to stay alert.

“What are you doin’? We’re on the same side,” Koritz said, lifting his weapon back in front of him.

The mystery man laughed. “No we aren’t.”

Koritz wasted no time in pulling his trigger, but nothing happened. Two more clicks sounded before he tossed his weapon to the ground at the man’s feet. He knew he was out of ammo and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to defend himself, so he started spouting off at the mouth instead.

My attention flicked to Tripp, who’d been able to sneak up next to Marek, but as soon as he looked toward the two men in front of him, he froze.

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