Page 117 of Covert Mission

My second kick comes fast on the heels of a punch to his face.

He crumbles.

I launch on him and flip him face down. It’s all over in less than five seconds.

“Owwww!”

“Did you say you wanted to get on the ground?” I twist his arm harder.

The man squeals. But not loud enough to cover up the eerie sound the bus makes as it shifts.

Dirt and pebbles scatter down the hillside below it.

Shrill screams echo around the mountainside.

My blood is a dangerous mix of ice and fire as I pat him down, remove a knife from his belt and throw it under my truck.

Once I know he’s unarmed, I loop an arm around the idiot’s neck and drag him to his feet. With him in a chokehold, I drag out the winch cable, cursing the whole time. “Fuckface. What did you think you were going to do? Cut my truck loose and steal it? Well, guess what. I’m going to leave your fate up to those fine people when they get off that bus.”

He’s wheezing, clawing at my arm. But he’s much too small to have an effect on me.

When I reach the bus, I shove him to the ground. “Stay! If you move, I’m serious as shit, I’m throwing you off the cliff.”

He glares at me but doesn’t move. Not so brave without his gun, huh?

As soon as the cable is rigged, I order him to his feet. Behind me, I can hear the pleads of the people on the bus.

Goddamnit.

I need to see Camile. To know she’s alright.

I shove him along in front of me until I get to the truck.

“On your stomach, hands on your head.”

He hesitates, and I lose my patience.

“Your choice.” I kick his legs out from under him. This time, when he hits the ground, he scrambles into position with his hands behind his head.

“That’s what I thought.”

It takes an agonizingly long time for the winch cable to tighten. Then it starts to pull on the bus.

Please move, baby. Come on.

The longest five minutes of my life follow. It’s plenty of time for me to tie up the guy and go through every horrible scenario imaginable.

But it works.

The ice in my veins warms with every inch the thing moves. As it finally reaches a safe position, a strange light feeling spreads behind my sternum.

By the time I run to the side of the bus, the door is opening.

The sound of a helicopter landing behind me on the road adds another layer to my relief. Evan will be on-site within minutes.

A pale-rattled man vigorously shakes my hand. “Gracias.”

Another grabs me in a hug. He speaks in English. “Thank you.”

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